Aftermath Chapter Two
Sep. 3rd, 2010 11:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Here we are, at chapter two. Huzzah! Chapter one can be found here.
Title: Aftermath
Genre: Fantasy, Action, Drama, Gen (aka no focus on romance, either het or slash)
Size: approximately 81K words
Warnings: some graphic images, memories of past torture, violence, strong language
Summary: Seven heroes try to pick up the pieces after vanquishing evil and protecting what is most important to them. But nightmares haunt the night, and restless stirrings keep them wandering. The real battle begins as they struggle to remember what it means to have a normal life.
Tennyson Manor is no less opulent than before; the six months Rai had spent away from Weirth enough time for it to flourish. Despite the autumn season and the debilitating drought, the trees and flowers thrive. All traces of the Ruhin invasion have vanished from the grounds, a direct contrast to the rest of Weirth, where abandoned homes and destroyed buildings can still be seen.
Rai is unable to fight his apprehension as he rides to the front gate of the lord's estate, discomfort crawling over his skin. He has overheard rumors in his short journey through the city. Rumors that point to a very discomfiting realization. But Rai is not one to jump to conclusions; he will see the truth for himself.
His approach is noted by one of Tennyson's personal guard, and the soldier steps out of the guardhouse, frowning over Rai's disarrayed state. “State your purpose,” he demands, his features hidden by the concealing helmet, only his cleft chin plainly visible.
Dismounting, Rai loops Flynt's reins around his left hand and pulls back his hood. “Just a visitor, nothing more,” he replies, the need for polite pleasantness overrode by his annoyance.
The soldier's eyes widen in recognition and Rai desperately hopes he doesn't do something stupid like bow to him. “S-Sir S'raiya! I didn't realize it was you.”
The 'sir' is a bit much but Rai doesn't feel like arguing honorifics.
He waves dismissively. “Rai,” he corrects, and glances around, making sure no one has seen this man's display. “Is the master of the house in?”
“Of course,” the guard replies quickly. The glint of hero-worship in his eyes unsettles Rai and he shifts uncomfortably. “I'm sure Sir Haiden and Lady Rynneth will be pleased to see that you have finally visited.”
Sir Haiden? Oh, this just keeps getting better.
“I'm sure they will,” Rai says and takes a rather impatient step forward. “You're going to open the gate then?”
The man nearly trips over himself when he realizes his mistake and ducks back into the small guardhouse. Seconds later, a short dong echoes through the front of the manse.
“Visitors!” the guard all but yells. “It’s Sir S'raiya!”
Another 'sir'; Rai winces. He hadn't wanted to be announced like this, but he also knew that Tennyson is guarded closely. Unless he identified himself, Rai wouldn't be allowed close to the lord.
Muttering a particularly vile invective under his breath, Rai grips Flynt's reins and enters the Tennyson estate. From here, it is a good hike to the main manor, but rather than mount Flynt once more, he chooses to walk.
Behind him, the portcullis drops again, cutting off the guard's farewell.
Around him, the estate bustles with activity. Rai sees people darting here and there, some conferring in small groups before abruptly splitting and heading to different directions. There is the distinct sense of urgency and excitement in the air, far different from the trudging pace of uncertainty outside the gates.
The moment he is in sight of the manor, servants pour out to attend to him. He would not be surprised if the guard at the gate had sent a runner to the manse to warn them. One young lad leads Flynt away, giving Rai scant time to grab his smallest satchel, while assuring him the rest will be taken to his room.
Another young boy reaches for Rai's blade and Rai is quick to stop him, his hand falling over the hilt. “This blade doesn't react well to touches it does not recognize,” he warns the tow-headed child.
Blinking up at him with frightened eyes, the boy merely nods and leaves the sword to Rai, who fastens the belt and sheath around his waist before someone else attempts to take it from him.
A third servant appears, barely older than the others, all smiles and politeness. “I will take you somewhere to freshen up, Sir S'raiya,” the last arrival says, the dulcet tones revealing that beneath the short cut and baggy clothing lies a woman and not a young man as Rai had originally thought.
“I'm fine,” he says before they go so far as to offer him a bath and perfume and fancy clothes – all things that Rynneth would have demanded before seeing anyone. “Just take me straight to them.”
“Yes, sir,” she replies and actually does bow shallowly to him, a reaction Rai had hoped to avoid.
He squirms inwardly, and for the briefest of moments, considers grabbing his things and riding back out the way he had come. Let Haiden wallow in the mess of his own making.
But then the servant moves on and Rai follows, allowing the moment of weakness to pass. He doesn't like to think of himself as a coward, and doesn't plan on starting to be one. He won't run from a slip of a girl and her overbearing father.
They walk quickly through a manor that Rai barely recognizes. It is nearly reconstructed in its entirety, not that Rai is surprised. Tennyson needs to project a sense of poise and he can't do that with an estate that lies in shambles. Broken windows have been replaced; shattered furniture either fixed or substituted for something similar. Torn draperies have been restored or taken away completely. It looks like an entirely new manor.
New manor; new Haiden. The idea of it makes Rai's skin crawl.
He is grateful when they finally arrive in the east wing, where Rai and the others were housed during their recovery six months ago. The common room is behind a set of double doors, and the female servant gives him a snaggle-toothed smile as she holds one of the doors open for him.
Rai tips his head in gratitude and enters the room, immediately looking for his hosts. The room is large, opulent like the rest of the castle, draped in shades of scarlet and gold, the furniture hard but expensive. Haiden and Rynneth stand amongst the finery, talking softly to each other near a warm hearth, turning when they notice his entrance.
“S'raiya!”
He winces at the near squeal of excitement that emerges from Rynneth's painted lips, and isn't prepared for the woman to hitch up her skirts and close the short distance between them in an eager sprint. She throws herself at Rai before he can so much as move out of the way, enclosing him in a warm hug that smells of vanilla and cinnamon, her body flush against his.
Rai stiffens in the onslaught of expensive, fine cloth in the form of a frilly, yellow dress. He had forgotten how very demonstrative and affectionate Rynneth could be. She could afford to be more circumspect.
“It is good to see you!” Rynneth continues, giving him another fierce squeeze before drawing back, her painted nails grasping his shoulders like a mother looking over her prodigal child. “We haven't heard from you in months! Haiden was so worried!”
She smiles at him, all brightness and bubbles, her pale green eyes surrounded by lines of artfully applied kohl. Her brown hair is no longer the practical ponytail that Rai remembers, but the twists and coils of a noblewoman, one that requires the hands of a servant to put together and that must have taken an hour at least.
“I'm sure he was,” Rai responds, and sidesteps Rynneth, moving away from her unwanted touch. She is an attractive woman, the sort of beauty only fine breeding could give, but Rai looks at her and feels only rolling nausea. Her rose-tinted world would suffocate him.
“I didn't think you would ever set foot in Weirth again,” Haiden says, finally joining the conversation, heavy boots no match for the thick rugs that blanket the floor. One hand dangles loosely at his side, the other lying on the pommel of his sword in a manner of habit and not threat. The blade once belonged to Suerte, its hilt recognizable for the obvious scratches and gouges in the decorative plating.
Rai has to do a double-take, for the clothes Haiden wears strongly resemble the uniform of the castle guard. A guard that had, in effect, been wiped out by the Ruhin's first attack on Umbra. Dark trousers are tucked into black boots and belted at the hip. A long-sleeved tunic tucks into his pants, and a dark grey cloak clasped across his right shoulder tops off everything. The clasp carries the symbol of the guard, a purple columbine wound about a shield.
“I hadn't planned to,” Rai admits, distracted by the sight of that uniform. “But hearing of your pending nuptials made me realize that I was missing out on something.”
Rynneth breaks into a wider grin and looks as if she might try and hug him again.
Rai isn't ashamed to move a few steps further away and closer to Haiden, thinking if she rushed him again, he could divert her attention to Haiden. Thankfully, instead Rynneth clasps her hands together in a sound of joy, an eager bounce making her sun-colored dress rustle. Yellow had always been her favorite color.
“It's great news, isn't it?” Rynneth gushes, tossing a lovesick smile at Haiden. “Father is making it such a grand affair, too. He wants this country to have something to celebrate.”
Something to celebrate? As if that is the first thing on Umbra's mind at the moment. Rai thinks that the people would probably rather see an end to the drought. Or a more cohesive effort to drive out the Ruhin and protect the citizens from the rampant banditry. A wedding is of the least importance.
Rai bites back his sarcastic retort and looks at Haiden, who, though grinning, appears uneasy. For the first time, Rai recognizes the hint of something not-quite-right in the room. Has Rynneth even noticed the knot of tension that ripples like a bad smell through the air?
A knock on the door saves Rai from struggling to search for a response that isn't overwhelmingly condescending.
“Enter!” Rynneth calls out cheerfully, though the door is already in the midst of opening.
One of the servants pops in, eyes darting around nervously as though fearing punishment for interrupting their conversation. Or perhaps she bears bad news. Rai would hate to be the one to bring that sort of thing to Rynneth as well. Her temper is a loud, obnoxious thing.
“I apologize, milady, but there are a few matters that need your attention,” the middle-aged woman explains to the floor, her deep bow making it impossible to meet anyone's eyes. “Lord Tennyson requests that you handle a few matters while he makes another visit to the castle.”
Rynneth pouts. “Father is always saddling me with the uninteresting matters,” she says with a sigh. “Very well. I'll be there in a moment.”
“Yes, milady. I'll inform Lord Tennyson.” The servant leaves as quickly as she arrived, closing the door behind her.
Rynneth huffs as though her decision had been a major concession on her part and turns towards Rai, an apology in her eyes. “I really want to chat more so don't abruptly vanish, yes?”
“I wouldn't miss it,” Rai lies without missing a beat, feeling no shame in doing so.
Rynneth smiles brightly, pecks Haiden on the cheek, and leaves in a swirl of fine clothing, thick perfume, and bubbling happiness in her flower petal-shaded universe.
Is she even affected by the past? Does she find her nights long and dark? Or does she sleep soundly because she lives in delusion, telling herself that it didn't happen to chase away the nightmares? Rai doesn't know, doesn't want to know. Her presence alone is enough to bother him.
Her absence clears something from the air, and Rai is free to turn his attention to his friend. “Marriage?” he asks.
Haiden shakes his head and rakes fingers through his black hair, disarraying strands that look to have been oiled down for sleekness. “It was what she wanted.”
But not what Haiden wanted seems implied here.
“Seems a little fast,” Rai begins doubtfully, not convinced that there was true affection to be found between them. “I didn't even know you had a thing for her.”
Haiden shrugs, and looks away, his gaze trapped by the window where he parts the curtains and peers out into the bright afternoon again. The action gives full view to the dark ink that snakes up the side of his neck, vanishing into his hairline. “She helped me out a lot, helped us all. Her and Lord Tennyson both. Things happen when you're stuck in one another's company.”
“Is she pregnant?”
Rai knows Haiden better than anyone else, even if there is years between them. He knows that if Haiden had inadvertently made the little noble girl with child, then he would marry her out of duty and responsibility.
Haiden rolls his eyes. “No, she isn't.”
Working his jaw, Rai searches for something else to say when he fixates on Haiden's clothing, something else that has yet to be explained. “And what's with the uniform?” he demands. And finally feeling comfortable enough to move, Rai dares find a chair and plop down into it.
A slight puff of dust accompanies the motion and he raises a brow. Well, well, the Tennyson Manor only looks perfectly undisturbed. Beneath the fancy fabric it is still very much the victim of the Ruhin king's madness. For some reason, that makes Rai feel better.
Haiden shifts uncomfortably. “Lord Tennyson's offered me a position as captain of the guard.”
“The castle guard,” Rai repeats skeptically. “The guard that is still pretty much nonexistent since that damn Ruhin did a good job of wiping them all out?”
Haiden's fingers curl around the hilt of Suerte's sword. “Yes, that guard. I haven't decided if I'll accept or not.”
Rai flops back against his chair and rubs fingers across his forehead. “Is that what all this is?” he mutters. “We nearly died so now all you can think about it is settling down?”
Haiden says nothing. At least, not immediately. Instead, he pulls a folded piece of parchment from the folds of his shirt. This he drops into Rai's lap with little ceremony, forcing Rai to open it on his own.
Silently, Haiden has just declared the questions about his personal life over. Obviously Haiden doesn't want Rai digging into his current circumstances, probably because Rai is logic where Haiden is emotion. Haiden knows good and well that Rai will pick apart all the incongruities and how him how much he doesn't actually want part of Rynneth's picture-perfect world.
“What's this?” Rai asks, glancing quickly over the letter. The writing is difficult to read since it is fancifully looped in some places, and scribbled in others. Worse, some of the sentences aren't complete and abruptly switch topics from one line to the next.
Haiden sighs and drops down into a chair across from him. “Fate really has it in for us,” he says, leaning forward and clasping his hands in front of him. “I received that earlier today, but a few hours before you showed up.”
“Yeah, well, I'm through with Fate and whatever she wants to toss at us,” Rai mutters, dropping the papers to the floor. “We got a shitty deal out of the last gift and this--” He prods at the letter with the toe of his boot “--is more of the same.”
“She needs our help, Rai.”
'She' refers to Loka, formerly one of their companions. And the help she needs is as vague as a letter can get. Something is wrong, she doesn't know what. She doesn't have much time. She can only trust Haiden. Et cetera. Rai doesn't understand a damn thing of what she's asking for in the letter because it doesn't make any logical sense.
Rai hadn't wanted to be a hero then, and he doesn't want to start now. He has no interest in climbing onto a horse and riding into the sunset with sword raised high. Rai's jaw sets, his determination sitting solid within him.
But Haiden is also giving him that look, the same Rai couldn't say no to before they traipsed across Umbra to rescue the entire kingdom from the Ruhin.
“The battle is over. We've no duty to help her,” Rai argues. “For Solan's sake, we're not even friends, Haiden. Fate threw us together, that's all.”
“For someone as proud as her to actually ask for help means that something is really wrong,” Haiden says quietly, and the pad of his thumb brushes across the marred emblem on the pommel of his sword.
The symbol beneath had been scraped over by a sharp instrument -- Suerte's doing. And Haiden hasn't bothered to have it repaired. To honor Suerte perhaps? Rai isn't sure.
Rai sinks deeper into his chair. “The guild is halfway across Umbra. It would take weeks--”
“She's not at the guild,” Haiden interrupts, stormy eyes darkening with thought. “In fact, she never went back. At least, according to her letters.”
Rai narrows his eyes in suspicion, distinctly recalling that Loka had claimed she had to return to the guild to handle pressing business. What it had been she had not elaborated, or why it was able to wait three months but not another few days for her to handle. In fact, Loka had been among the first to leave, riding out of the Tennyson manor within days of taking down the Ruhin king, despite her fatigue in working the complex magic required to close the gate between worlds.
“I don't like this,” Rai says, the atmosphere growing heavy between them. “It's not sitting right with me. And I really don't know why you're practically leaping at the chance to rescue her. That's more like Su--” He pauses and retracts himself, wondering why it feels taboo to say the kid's name. “Heroism isn't really either of our style.”
He watches, and hates himself for watching, Haiden flinch at the near mention of Suerte. Suerte, the kid all of them mourned. It isn't that they all expected to survive their fight against the Ruhin king, but they never would have anticipated that only one of them would fall. Or that it would be Suerte, the only one who ever truly gave a damn. It had been Suerte who had asked them to fight, and Suerte who had urged them forward, even while hiding the shame of his cowardice.
Not that the rest of them emerged entirely unscathed. Trahern was blinded and Rai carries more scars than before. Gaelin has seen more than a child his age should ever witness and Rai can only guess what effect the battles had on Rynneth.
As for Haiden... he never says it, but Rai is certain that Haiden is bothered by Suerte's death, probably more than the rest of them. He can see it in every wince and the proof lies in the roles Haiden has filled himself: a position in the guard that he may or may not take, and the inheritance of Suerte's blade, which none of them could leave to rust in his grave. The spoils of victory, everything the hero should gain. The weapon, the acclaim, and the girl. Rai wonders how much of it Haiden actually wants.
Haiden squares his shoulders, jaw setting stubbornly. “I’m not leaping. I respect the effort it must have taken for her to lay down her pride and make the request. I can't, in good conscience, ignore her.”
“Dammit, Haiden, why do you have to drag me into this?” Rai curses, and hates himself for feeling his resolve weaken.
The other man lifts his shoulders. “Well, I would take Ryn--”
“Rynneth,” Rai absently corrects, the nickname the noble girl had insisted they use for her irritating him for some reason.
Haiden shoots him a look and continues, “Rynneth, but she's too busy--”
“--planning the nuptials no doubt,” Rai mutters under his breath.
“--and you're here now so I might as well abide by Fate's whims and bow down to her tender mercies,” Haiden finishes with a lazy drawl, and for a moment there, Rai sees a hint of the friend he remembers and not this solemn creature that Ryn has created for her own purposes. “Honestly, Rai, have you anything better to do? From what I hear, you've done nothing with the past six months but hunt Ruhin.”
From what he hears? What, has Haiden had him followed or something?
Rai snorts. “And it's served me well enough this far. I'm not exactly hurting for coin.”
Haiden looks disappointed in Rai, making Rai feel lower than dirt. “Fine. I won't ask again,” Haiden acquiesces, and sounds like he had expected that result and only asked because he hoped he would be surprised.
Feeling a growl burble up in his throat, Rai throws his head back against the opulent chair and closes his eyes. He didn't turn Haiden down back then either.
Rai crouches and pokes listlessly at the corpse in front of him, fascinated by webbed wings and long, thin limbs. Visible in the light of the flickering fire, the corpse is utterly empty of life, spattered by bluish blood that further denotes its alien existence.
The Ruhin resemble a human, for the most part, but the wings and claws completely betray its status as an otherworldly creature. Markings around the eyes, most notably the corners and drifting back towards the hairline are dark enough to resemble ink. Lines also encircle bony ankles and wrists. The Ruhin tower over humans, even what seem to be the smallest.
Boots crunch over the ground behind him and the wind shifts direction, bringing the scent of metal, leather and something else – juniper perhaps.
“What do you think?” Haiden asks.
Shaking his head, Rai rises to his feet and dusts off his hands, as though trying to wipe himself clean of the stain of death. “Mostly human, I guess. But not invincible. They can be killed, and I guess that's really all that matters.”
“Well, I figured that myself, Rai,” Haiden remarks with a hint of humor, lips twisting in amusement. “I meant, about Suerte's story and what he claims is the cause of all this.” One hand waves vaguely towards the charred town behind them.
Starkly is little more than a husk of its former self. Its residents have been scattered to the four winds, fleeing the winged menace, and most of the buildings hadn't survived the flames. Rai doubts that even a rat remained behind.
Frowning, Rai shifts his attention to the motley assortment of strangers that had successfully fended off some of the invaders and emerged unscathed. Except, they are not strangers so much any more. Not after fighting together in Alliele and, coincidentally, fighting together once more here in Starkly. In fact, Rai can probably put a name to each face now, even as they sit huddled around the fire, conversing in low tones. Just seconds before, Suerte had shared his story with them.
A nearly fantastical story of how the would-be king had failed, and how it was his failure that had triggered the arrival of the Ruhin. How Weirth had succumbed to the Ruhin's rule, and the creatures now spread across Umbra like wildfire. How the Ruhin false-king needs to be stopped before all humanity was engulfed.
It sounds so much like those fairy tales of Rai's mother that he can hardly believe it, if it weren't for the proof that lay dead at his feet, slain by his own blade.
The Ruhin are real, and so is the threat of them.
“Do you believe him?” Rai asks, slate grey eyes watching as Suerte speaks with Trahern, animatedly describing something to the self-proclaimed blacksmith. The older man humors him, listening patiently.
The toe of one leather boot pokes the corpse in the side, watching it rock back and forth on the ground. “Hard not to,” Haiden remarks tonelessly, and draws his cloak tighter around his frame. The winds are changing, bringing the heavy scent of oncoming rain. It will be a long, wet night, especially with no shelter to be found. “It's not like there's a better explanation.”
Rai grunts, focusing on the others huddled around the fire. Ryn attempts to draw Loka into conversation, and receives nothing for her efforts. The child, Gaelin, hasn't spoken a word since they had been introduced, leaving Rai to wonder if the kid could.
Even more telling is the final member of their group, sitting on the far reaches as though trying to blend into the night. An impossibility considering the pale shade of her hair and skin.
Maro is a bonelord and it is well-known that they prefer not to associate with humans. Yet, Maro had been the first to volunteer for Suerte's suicide mission to Weirth. The companion she lost in Starkly's fall might have something to do with it. But since she has started snubbing everyone after her initial declaration, Rai isn't inclined to wander over and ask.
“It's foolishness,” Rai mutters, wondering if any of the others planned to join Suerte's cause. If they have been moved by his tale and his desire to play hero.
Haiden shifts, and his sword rattles in its sheath, the clanking carrying through the dim. “He has a point. How much of a coincidence can it be that we all left Alliele, only to arrive in the same place. And choose the very same inn?”
“Fate is nothing more than an excuse, Haiden. You know that,” Rai counters sharply as the first sprinkling of rain drops down onto face, slightly warm as Spring showers usually are. “A place to lay blame when people don't want to take responsibility for their choices.”
“Hmm.” Haiden doesn't sound convinced, but then, he suscribes more to destiny than Rai. “I still think he's right, though. Someone has to do it.”
Rai snorts. “Yeah, that's probably true. But no one says that someone has to be us either. Risking my life for a bunch of strangers who won't even be grateful? Don't think so.”
“And what if no one does? Where will Umbra be then?” Haiden asks, and Rai realizes that his friend has already made up his mind. Somewhere in the middle of Suerte's passionate speech, Haiden decided to help him.
Rai curses under his breath, fixing Suerte with a glare that the young man can't see from his position. He really wants to burn a hole through Suerte's back for filling Haiden's head with that hero nonsense.
“You that eager to die?” Rai spits in Haiden's direction, half-angry and half-afraid as well. Because he doesn't want to join this fight and yet Rai knows that he may do just that.
“Not particularly, no,” Haiden replies honestly and looks past Rai, to the mountains on the horizon, dark forms against an even darker sky. “We can do this. Because if we don't, and no one does, then we might as well all prepare to die.”
“Or run away,” Rai mutters bitterly.
Haiden forces in a deep breath and releases it slowly. “I doubt you'll do that, Rai. You're not a coward.”
“No, I'm not. And I'm also no knight. Or a paladin. You'll have to preach Suerte's nonsense to some other fool.” With a final glance towards the corpse at his feet, Rai turns away from the group with the intention of locating Flynt and leaving the others to their ludicrous heroics.
Fingers grab his arm before Rai manages more than two steps, dragging him to a halt. He whirls to find Haiden glaring at him, stormy eyes flashing. It is a sight that used to be familiar to Rai, before his abrupt departure from Lathe.
“You wanted adventure, didn't you?” Haiden demands. “Well, this is it. You left Lathe for this very thing!”
“I didn't want to leave so I could save the world,” Rai retorts, but he can already feel himself wavering. The fingers around his arm are like iron bars. Still, he isn't trying all that hard to escape either.
“Maybe not, but you wanted something. And I'll bet anything that you still haven't found it.”
When Rai doesn't immediately budge, Haiden growls in frustration. “Come on, Rai. I need your help. I can't protect these scrappers on my own.”
It is rather shameful of him to be swayed by those few words, but most convincing is Haiden admitting that he needs Rai in some fashion. Heaving a great sigh, Rai reaches up and pulls Haiden's fingers from his arm. Rai has the feeling that he succumbs far too easily, and that he really is just as a big an idiot as the rest of them for even considering this madness.
“Stop begging,” he says tiredly, forcing himself back towards the fire and their new companions. “It's pitiful. No wonder I always beat you when we spar.”
Haiden laughs and claps a hand on Rai's shoulder. “I should have known you wouldn't let me down. Between the two of us, what's a couple of hundred Ruhin, ne?”
“A couple of hundred Ruhin,” Rai muses aloud, snapping out of his recollections with a shake of his head.
They had been so naïve back then. A couple hundred Ruhin had only been the start of the madness. Giving in to Fate like that had been folly and even now, Rai wonders why they couldn't have just let things lie. Or why he had let Haiden talk him into it.
Haiden stirs at the sound of Rai's voice, his forehead crinkling in confusion. “I doubt that's the problem here,” he says, giving Rai a strange look.
“Probably not,” Rai agrees, rather than explain his trip into the past. He stares at Haiden. “But it's still probably something you can't handle on your own. I'll help you play the knight again.”
The smile that cracks Haiden's face is enough to make Rai feel it's worth it. Even if he still can't shake the sensation of something not-quite-right.
* * *
Dawn barely peeks over the horizon when they ride out of Tennyson manor, horses plied with supplies and weapons sharpened and at the ready. Rynneth had accepted Haiden's departure with grace, merely pouting that she would miss him and hoping that nothing untoward was wrong with Loka. She promised that by the time they returned, she and Haiden would be wed. Rai would've had to have been blind to miss the faint look of uneasiness Haiden had given her.
Following Haiden's lead, they take the west gate – the “back” gate – out of Weirth, where they are least likely to run into any fans. Most specifically of Haiden's, since Lord Tennyson had gone to great efforts to expound on Haiden's deeds. In fact, every one of the so-called heroes are becoming well-known thanks to the lord, except for Rai; he prefers it that way.
“If Loka's not at the guild, then where is she?” Rai asks the moment they are out in the open, and he can breathe a bit easier without being surrounded by opulence and servants catering to his every whim.
Stormy eyes lock on the horizon, pinking with golds and oranges as the sun rises behind them. “Yule,” he responds. “It's a few days ride from here.”
“That's the opposite direction from the guild.” Rai finds himself even more confused. Just what in Solan's name is wrong with Loka? “Why didn't she just go to them for aid?”
“Because she doesn't want them to know,” Haiden explains with an exasperated noise. “Allmighty, Rai, did you even read the letter?”
The hunter shrugs dismissively. “Enough of it. I got the important bits,” Rai replies defensively. He hadn't originally planned on helping, after all. Why would he care enough to gather all the necessary information?
Haiden rolls his eyes. “Glad to see nothing's changed. How about I just point you in the direction of the enemy and you can slash from there. Will that work?”
He snorts, shifting as his shoulder starts to throb. “Give me some credit, Haiden. I'm not that reckless.”
“You might as well be, now and then,” Haiden counters. “I distinctly remember a time when Ryn--”
“Ugh,” Rai groans, interrupting Haiden with a grimace. “Let's not talk about her at all, shall we? It's bad enough that you're marrying her.”
He expects Haiden to be affronted, but instead, the other man regards him with curiosity. He doesn't even make an effort to defend his intended. “You never did like her.”
“No, and I still don't,” Rai replies bluntly, seeing no need to mince words. He's always considered Ryn about two steps from useless and he finds it amusing that where she once used to try to cling to him, she has now switched her attention to Haiden.
He has every intention of explaining further, perhaps even calling Haiden on what appears to be mixed feelings on his own marriage, when a scent floats his direction. Lemon spice and leather, a familiar odor that he has come to learn in the past six months of hunting. His instincts sharpen, and the prickle on the edge of his scalp is all the warning he needs.
The wind stirs again and Rai reacts quickly. “Down!” he orders and is glad that Haiden obeys without question as they drop to the ground, narrowly avoiding arrows that shoot from seemingly nowhere.
Rai knows these enemies, however. They intended to miss, wanting to drive their prey from their horses to fight on even ground. The Ruhin love a good fight as much as any human. Especially when they have to work for it.
“Damn tiharire,” Rai mutters under his breath, fumbling at the strap for his sword and drawing it free. He meets Haiden's gaze. “Sure you can still fight, captain?”
He is greeted with a challenging stare before Haiden draws his sword and disappears around the side of his horse, the ringing sound of blade meeting blade filling the air.
Rai smirks and follows Haiden's example, rising to meet the studded mace of his own opponent. A face that is too pretty to belong on such a bloodthirsty creature grins down at him. But Rai has been hunting the Ruhin for the past six months. He knows their strengths and their weaknesses.
Ducking under a swing, Rai drops into a crouch and slams his elbow into the tiharire's knee. A satisfying crack accompanies the motion, and the tiharire howls, cursing in his own language. Rai leaps to his feet, blocking an angry swipe and slicing his blade across the tiharire's abdomen. Blood gushes out and Rai nimbly avoids the blue spray, as well as the last dying strike in the form of raking claws.
Rai has no time to savor the victory, whirling to face another opponent swooping down from above. Their blades meet and the force of the attack drives Rai back a pace. He grits his teeth, pushing against the Ruhin's greater strength.
He hates it when they attack from above; it puts him at a disadvantage. In the background, the clash of metal on metal assures him that Haiden is still fighting as well, not that Rai considers asking for help. He has survived the past few months on his own after all.
The Ruhin above him cackles, wings flapping to hold him aloft. He shouts something that is likely a taunt, but is difficult to tell considering the language barrier. Rai sneers and shifts his weight, directing the force of the Ruhin's attack to the side. It catches the tiharire off balance and he careens to the side, causing the metal of their blades to screech as one slides down the other.
Rai grunts, the Ruhin's weight making him lose his grip on the hilt. He lets the sword slip through his fingers and lashes out with a boot, catching his opponent in the side. He hears a crack as his kick crunches a few bones, easy to do with an enemy as thin as the tiharire. A wing – resembling something a dragonfly bears – nearly slaps him in the face but he avoids it, and the subsequent kick that the Ruhin directs his way. The damn things are fast.
The tiharire rolls out from under him, trying to regain his footing, and Rai catches sight of the hilt of his sword. Rai dives for it, fingers wrapping around the cold bone and in a split-second, he throws his body to the side, narrowly avoiding the claws aiming for his body. The Ruhin snarls again, but Rai is already catching his footing, swinging the blade through the air.
It connects with the Ruhin's neck, slicing clean through and sending the head flying off into the bushes. The body totters for all of a second before crumpling, wings twitching in death throes.
Panting, Rai turns towards Haiden, only to see that the last of the Ruhin is sneaking up behind him, fully prepared to kill. Honorless cretin. He hurriedly snatches the dagger out of his boot and flicks it across the road, the blade neatly slamming into the back of the Ruhin's head. As the body tumbles forward, it reveals Haiden's astonished face watching the tiharire fall.
“Getting soft in your life of luxury,” Rai taunts, smirking victoriously. “Is this how the captain of the guard plans on protecting his king?”
“I haven't accepted it yet,” Haiden reminds him, toeing the corpse at his feet with some disinterest. “Good throw though. Right on target.”
Rai shakes his head and reaches for his leather pouch. No need to waste a good bounty after all, even if they are only tiharire and not nearly as lucrative as a shedim or zafrire.
* * *
a/n: Feedback, as always, is perfectly welcome.
Onwards to chapter three!
Title: Aftermath
Genre: Fantasy, Action, Drama, Gen (aka no focus on romance, either het or slash)
Size: approximately 81K words
Warnings: some graphic images, memories of past torture, violence, strong language
Summary: Seven heroes try to pick up the pieces after vanquishing evil and protecting what is most important to them. But nightmares haunt the night, and restless stirrings keep them wandering. The real battle begins as they struggle to remember what it means to have a normal life.
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Chapter Two
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Chapter Two
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Tennyson Manor is no less opulent than before; the six months Rai had spent away from Weirth enough time for it to flourish. Despite the autumn season and the debilitating drought, the trees and flowers thrive. All traces of the Ruhin invasion have vanished from the grounds, a direct contrast to the rest of Weirth, where abandoned homes and destroyed buildings can still be seen.
Rai is unable to fight his apprehension as he rides to the front gate of the lord's estate, discomfort crawling over his skin. He has overheard rumors in his short journey through the city. Rumors that point to a very discomfiting realization. But Rai is not one to jump to conclusions; he will see the truth for himself.
His approach is noted by one of Tennyson's personal guard, and the soldier steps out of the guardhouse, frowning over Rai's disarrayed state. “State your purpose,” he demands, his features hidden by the concealing helmet, only his cleft chin plainly visible.
Dismounting, Rai loops Flynt's reins around his left hand and pulls back his hood. “Just a visitor, nothing more,” he replies, the need for polite pleasantness overrode by his annoyance.
The soldier's eyes widen in recognition and Rai desperately hopes he doesn't do something stupid like bow to him. “S-Sir S'raiya! I didn't realize it was you.”
The 'sir' is a bit much but Rai doesn't feel like arguing honorifics.
He waves dismissively. “Rai,” he corrects, and glances around, making sure no one has seen this man's display. “Is the master of the house in?”
“Of course,” the guard replies quickly. The glint of hero-worship in his eyes unsettles Rai and he shifts uncomfortably. “I'm sure Sir Haiden and Lady Rynneth will be pleased to see that you have finally visited.”
Sir Haiden? Oh, this just keeps getting better.
“I'm sure they will,” Rai says and takes a rather impatient step forward. “You're going to open the gate then?”
The man nearly trips over himself when he realizes his mistake and ducks back into the small guardhouse. Seconds later, a short dong echoes through the front of the manse.
“Visitors!” the guard all but yells. “It’s Sir S'raiya!”
Another 'sir'; Rai winces. He hadn't wanted to be announced like this, but he also knew that Tennyson is guarded closely. Unless he identified himself, Rai wouldn't be allowed close to the lord.
Muttering a particularly vile invective under his breath, Rai grips Flynt's reins and enters the Tennyson estate. From here, it is a good hike to the main manor, but rather than mount Flynt once more, he chooses to walk.
Behind him, the portcullis drops again, cutting off the guard's farewell.
Around him, the estate bustles with activity. Rai sees people darting here and there, some conferring in small groups before abruptly splitting and heading to different directions. There is the distinct sense of urgency and excitement in the air, far different from the trudging pace of uncertainty outside the gates.
The moment he is in sight of the manor, servants pour out to attend to him. He would not be surprised if the guard at the gate had sent a runner to the manse to warn them. One young lad leads Flynt away, giving Rai scant time to grab his smallest satchel, while assuring him the rest will be taken to his room.
Another young boy reaches for Rai's blade and Rai is quick to stop him, his hand falling over the hilt. “This blade doesn't react well to touches it does not recognize,” he warns the tow-headed child.
Blinking up at him with frightened eyes, the boy merely nods and leaves the sword to Rai, who fastens the belt and sheath around his waist before someone else attempts to take it from him.
A third servant appears, barely older than the others, all smiles and politeness. “I will take you somewhere to freshen up, Sir S'raiya,” the last arrival says, the dulcet tones revealing that beneath the short cut and baggy clothing lies a woman and not a young man as Rai had originally thought.
“I'm fine,” he says before they go so far as to offer him a bath and perfume and fancy clothes – all things that Rynneth would have demanded before seeing anyone. “Just take me straight to them.”
“Yes, sir,” she replies and actually does bow shallowly to him, a reaction Rai had hoped to avoid.
He squirms inwardly, and for the briefest of moments, considers grabbing his things and riding back out the way he had come. Let Haiden wallow in the mess of his own making.
But then the servant moves on and Rai follows, allowing the moment of weakness to pass. He doesn't like to think of himself as a coward, and doesn't plan on starting to be one. He won't run from a slip of a girl and her overbearing father.
They walk quickly through a manor that Rai barely recognizes. It is nearly reconstructed in its entirety, not that Rai is surprised. Tennyson needs to project a sense of poise and he can't do that with an estate that lies in shambles. Broken windows have been replaced; shattered furniture either fixed or substituted for something similar. Torn draperies have been restored or taken away completely. It looks like an entirely new manor.
New manor; new Haiden. The idea of it makes Rai's skin crawl.
He is grateful when they finally arrive in the east wing, where Rai and the others were housed during their recovery six months ago. The common room is behind a set of double doors, and the female servant gives him a snaggle-toothed smile as she holds one of the doors open for him.
Rai tips his head in gratitude and enters the room, immediately looking for his hosts. The room is large, opulent like the rest of the castle, draped in shades of scarlet and gold, the furniture hard but expensive. Haiden and Rynneth stand amongst the finery, talking softly to each other near a warm hearth, turning when they notice his entrance.
“S'raiya!”
He winces at the near squeal of excitement that emerges from Rynneth's painted lips, and isn't prepared for the woman to hitch up her skirts and close the short distance between them in an eager sprint. She throws herself at Rai before he can so much as move out of the way, enclosing him in a warm hug that smells of vanilla and cinnamon, her body flush against his.
Rai stiffens in the onslaught of expensive, fine cloth in the form of a frilly, yellow dress. He had forgotten how very demonstrative and affectionate Rynneth could be. She could afford to be more circumspect.
“It is good to see you!” Rynneth continues, giving him another fierce squeeze before drawing back, her painted nails grasping his shoulders like a mother looking over her prodigal child. “We haven't heard from you in months! Haiden was so worried!”
She smiles at him, all brightness and bubbles, her pale green eyes surrounded by lines of artfully applied kohl. Her brown hair is no longer the practical ponytail that Rai remembers, but the twists and coils of a noblewoman, one that requires the hands of a servant to put together and that must have taken an hour at least.
“I'm sure he was,” Rai responds, and sidesteps Rynneth, moving away from her unwanted touch. She is an attractive woman, the sort of beauty only fine breeding could give, but Rai looks at her and feels only rolling nausea. Her rose-tinted world would suffocate him.
“I didn't think you would ever set foot in Weirth again,” Haiden says, finally joining the conversation, heavy boots no match for the thick rugs that blanket the floor. One hand dangles loosely at his side, the other lying on the pommel of his sword in a manner of habit and not threat. The blade once belonged to Suerte, its hilt recognizable for the obvious scratches and gouges in the decorative plating.
Rai has to do a double-take, for the clothes Haiden wears strongly resemble the uniform of the castle guard. A guard that had, in effect, been wiped out by the Ruhin's first attack on Umbra. Dark trousers are tucked into black boots and belted at the hip. A long-sleeved tunic tucks into his pants, and a dark grey cloak clasped across his right shoulder tops off everything. The clasp carries the symbol of the guard, a purple columbine wound about a shield.
“I hadn't planned to,” Rai admits, distracted by the sight of that uniform. “But hearing of your pending nuptials made me realize that I was missing out on something.”
Rynneth breaks into a wider grin and looks as if she might try and hug him again.
Rai isn't ashamed to move a few steps further away and closer to Haiden, thinking if she rushed him again, he could divert her attention to Haiden. Thankfully, instead Rynneth clasps her hands together in a sound of joy, an eager bounce making her sun-colored dress rustle. Yellow had always been her favorite color.
“It's great news, isn't it?” Rynneth gushes, tossing a lovesick smile at Haiden. “Father is making it such a grand affair, too. He wants this country to have something to celebrate.”
Something to celebrate? As if that is the first thing on Umbra's mind at the moment. Rai thinks that the people would probably rather see an end to the drought. Or a more cohesive effort to drive out the Ruhin and protect the citizens from the rampant banditry. A wedding is of the least importance.
Rai bites back his sarcastic retort and looks at Haiden, who, though grinning, appears uneasy. For the first time, Rai recognizes the hint of something not-quite-right in the room. Has Rynneth even noticed the knot of tension that ripples like a bad smell through the air?
A knock on the door saves Rai from struggling to search for a response that isn't overwhelmingly condescending.
“Enter!” Rynneth calls out cheerfully, though the door is already in the midst of opening.
One of the servants pops in, eyes darting around nervously as though fearing punishment for interrupting their conversation. Or perhaps she bears bad news. Rai would hate to be the one to bring that sort of thing to Rynneth as well. Her temper is a loud, obnoxious thing.
“I apologize, milady, but there are a few matters that need your attention,” the middle-aged woman explains to the floor, her deep bow making it impossible to meet anyone's eyes. “Lord Tennyson requests that you handle a few matters while he makes another visit to the castle.”
Rynneth pouts. “Father is always saddling me with the uninteresting matters,” she says with a sigh. “Very well. I'll be there in a moment.”
“Yes, milady. I'll inform Lord Tennyson.” The servant leaves as quickly as she arrived, closing the door behind her.
Rynneth huffs as though her decision had been a major concession on her part and turns towards Rai, an apology in her eyes. “I really want to chat more so don't abruptly vanish, yes?”
“I wouldn't miss it,” Rai lies without missing a beat, feeling no shame in doing so.
Rynneth smiles brightly, pecks Haiden on the cheek, and leaves in a swirl of fine clothing, thick perfume, and bubbling happiness in her flower petal-shaded universe.
Is she even affected by the past? Does she find her nights long and dark? Or does she sleep soundly because she lives in delusion, telling herself that it didn't happen to chase away the nightmares? Rai doesn't know, doesn't want to know. Her presence alone is enough to bother him.
Her absence clears something from the air, and Rai is free to turn his attention to his friend. “Marriage?” he asks.
Haiden shakes his head and rakes fingers through his black hair, disarraying strands that look to have been oiled down for sleekness. “It was what she wanted.”
But not what Haiden wanted seems implied here.
“Seems a little fast,” Rai begins doubtfully, not convinced that there was true affection to be found between them. “I didn't even know you had a thing for her.”
Haiden shrugs, and looks away, his gaze trapped by the window where he parts the curtains and peers out into the bright afternoon again. The action gives full view to the dark ink that snakes up the side of his neck, vanishing into his hairline. “She helped me out a lot, helped us all. Her and Lord Tennyson both. Things happen when you're stuck in one another's company.”
“Is she pregnant?”
Rai knows Haiden better than anyone else, even if there is years between them. He knows that if Haiden had inadvertently made the little noble girl with child, then he would marry her out of duty and responsibility.
Haiden rolls his eyes. “No, she isn't.”
Working his jaw, Rai searches for something else to say when he fixates on Haiden's clothing, something else that has yet to be explained. “And what's with the uniform?” he demands. And finally feeling comfortable enough to move, Rai dares find a chair and plop down into it.
A slight puff of dust accompanies the motion and he raises a brow. Well, well, the Tennyson Manor only looks perfectly undisturbed. Beneath the fancy fabric it is still very much the victim of the Ruhin king's madness. For some reason, that makes Rai feel better.
Haiden shifts uncomfortably. “Lord Tennyson's offered me a position as captain of the guard.”
“The castle guard,” Rai repeats skeptically. “The guard that is still pretty much nonexistent since that damn Ruhin did a good job of wiping them all out?”
Haiden's fingers curl around the hilt of Suerte's sword. “Yes, that guard. I haven't decided if I'll accept or not.”
Rai flops back against his chair and rubs fingers across his forehead. “Is that what all this is?” he mutters. “We nearly died so now all you can think about it is settling down?”
Haiden says nothing. At least, not immediately. Instead, he pulls a folded piece of parchment from the folds of his shirt. This he drops into Rai's lap with little ceremony, forcing Rai to open it on his own.
Silently, Haiden has just declared the questions about his personal life over. Obviously Haiden doesn't want Rai digging into his current circumstances, probably because Rai is logic where Haiden is emotion. Haiden knows good and well that Rai will pick apart all the incongruities and how him how much he doesn't actually want part of Rynneth's picture-perfect world.
“What's this?” Rai asks, glancing quickly over the letter. The writing is difficult to read since it is fancifully looped in some places, and scribbled in others. Worse, some of the sentences aren't complete and abruptly switch topics from one line to the next.
Haiden sighs and drops down into a chair across from him. “Fate really has it in for us,” he says, leaning forward and clasping his hands in front of him. “I received that earlier today, but a few hours before you showed up.”
“Yeah, well, I'm through with Fate and whatever she wants to toss at us,” Rai mutters, dropping the papers to the floor. “We got a shitty deal out of the last gift and this--” He prods at the letter with the toe of his boot “--is more of the same.”
“She needs our help, Rai.”
'She' refers to Loka, formerly one of their companions. And the help she needs is as vague as a letter can get. Something is wrong, she doesn't know what. She doesn't have much time. She can only trust Haiden. Et cetera. Rai doesn't understand a damn thing of what she's asking for in the letter because it doesn't make any logical sense.
Rai hadn't wanted to be a hero then, and he doesn't want to start now. He has no interest in climbing onto a horse and riding into the sunset with sword raised high. Rai's jaw sets, his determination sitting solid within him.
But Haiden is also giving him that look, the same Rai couldn't say no to before they traipsed across Umbra to rescue the entire kingdom from the Ruhin.
“The battle is over. We've no duty to help her,” Rai argues. “For Solan's sake, we're not even friends, Haiden. Fate threw us together, that's all.”
“For someone as proud as her to actually ask for help means that something is really wrong,” Haiden says quietly, and the pad of his thumb brushes across the marred emblem on the pommel of his sword.
The symbol beneath had been scraped over by a sharp instrument -- Suerte's doing. And Haiden hasn't bothered to have it repaired. To honor Suerte perhaps? Rai isn't sure.
Rai sinks deeper into his chair. “The guild is halfway across Umbra. It would take weeks--”
“She's not at the guild,” Haiden interrupts, stormy eyes darkening with thought. “In fact, she never went back. At least, according to her letters.”
Rai narrows his eyes in suspicion, distinctly recalling that Loka had claimed she had to return to the guild to handle pressing business. What it had been she had not elaborated, or why it was able to wait three months but not another few days for her to handle. In fact, Loka had been among the first to leave, riding out of the Tennyson manor within days of taking down the Ruhin king, despite her fatigue in working the complex magic required to close the gate between worlds.
“I don't like this,” Rai says, the atmosphere growing heavy between them. “It's not sitting right with me. And I really don't know why you're practically leaping at the chance to rescue her. That's more like Su--” He pauses and retracts himself, wondering why it feels taboo to say the kid's name. “Heroism isn't really either of our style.”
He watches, and hates himself for watching, Haiden flinch at the near mention of Suerte. Suerte, the kid all of them mourned. It isn't that they all expected to survive their fight against the Ruhin king, but they never would have anticipated that only one of them would fall. Or that it would be Suerte, the only one who ever truly gave a damn. It had been Suerte who had asked them to fight, and Suerte who had urged them forward, even while hiding the shame of his cowardice.
Not that the rest of them emerged entirely unscathed. Trahern was blinded and Rai carries more scars than before. Gaelin has seen more than a child his age should ever witness and Rai can only guess what effect the battles had on Rynneth.
As for Haiden... he never says it, but Rai is certain that Haiden is bothered by Suerte's death, probably more than the rest of them. He can see it in every wince and the proof lies in the roles Haiden has filled himself: a position in the guard that he may or may not take, and the inheritance of Suerte's blade, which none of them could leave to rust in his grave. The spoils of victory, everything the hero should gain. The weapon, the acclaim, and the girl. Rai wonders how much of it Haiden actually wants.
Haiden squares his shoulders, jaw setting stubbornly. “I’m not leaping. I respect the effort it must have taken for her to lay down her pride and make the request. I can't, in good conscience, ignore her.”
“Dammit, Haiden, why do you have to drag me into this?” Rai curses, and hates himself for feeling his resolve weaken.
The other man lifts his shoulders. “Well, I would take Ryn--”
“Rynneth,” Rai absently corrects, the nickname the noble girl had insisted they use for her irritating him for some reason.
Haiden shoots him a look and continues, “Rynneth, but she's too busy--”
“--planning the nuptials no doubt,” Rai mutters under his breath.
“--and you're here now so I might as well abide by Fate's whims and bow down to her tender mercies,” Haiden finishes with a lazy drawl, and for a moment there, Rai sees a hint of the friend he remembers and not this solemn creature that Ryn has created for her own purposes. “Honestly, Rai, have you anything better to do? From what I hear, you've done nothing with the past six months but hunt Ruhin.”
From what he hears? What, has Haiden had him followed or something?
Rai snorts. “And it's served me well enough this far. I'm not exactly hurting for coin.”
Haiden looks disappointed in Rai, making Rai feel lower than dirt. “Fine. I won't ask again,” Haiden acquiesces, and sounds like he had expected that result and only asked because he hoped he would be surprised.
Feeling a growl burble up in his throat, Rai throws his head back against the opulent chair and closes his eyes. He didn't turn Haiden down back then either.
Rai crouches and pokes listlessly at the corpse in front of him, fascinated by webbed wings and long, thin limbs. Visible in the light of the flickering fire, the corpse is utterly empty of life, spattered by bluish blood that further denotes its alien existence.
The Ruhin resemble a human, for the most part, but the wings and claws completely betray its status as an otherworldly creature. Markings around the eyes, most notably the corners and drifting back towards the hairline are dark enough to resemble ink. Lines also encircle bony ankles and wrists. The Ruhin tower over humans, even what seem to be the smallest.
Boots crunch over the ground behind him and the wind shifts direction, bringing the scent of metal, leather and something else – juniper perhaps.
“What do you think?” Haiden asks.
Shaking his head, Rai rises to his feet and dusts off his hands, as though trying to wipe himself clean of the stain of death. “Mostly human, I guess. But not invincible. They can be killed, and I guess that's really all that matters.”
“Well, I figured that myself, Rai,” Haiden remarks with a hint of humor, lips twisting in amusement. “I meant, about Suerte's story and what he claims is the cause of all this.” One hand waves vaguely towards the charred town behind them.
Starkly is little more than a husk of its former self. Its residents have been scattered to the four winds, fleeing the winged menace, and most of the buildings hadn't survived the flames. Rai doubts that even a rat remained behind.
Frowning, Rai shifts his attention to the motley assortment of strangers that had successfully fended off some of the invaders and emerged unscathed. Except, they are not strangers so much any more. Not after fighting together in Alliele and, coincidentally, fighting together once more here in Starkly. In fact, Rai can probably put a name to each face now, even as they sit huddled around the fire, conversing in low tones. Just seconds before, Suerte had shared his story with them.
A nearly fantastical story of how the would-be king had failed, and how it was his failure that had triggered the arrival of the Ruhin. How Weirth had succumbed to the Ruhin's rule, and the creatures now spread across Umbra like wildfire. How the Ruhin false-king needs to be stopped before all humanity was engulfed.
It sounds so much like those fairy tales of Rai's mother that he can hardly believe it, if it weren't for the proof that lay dead at his feet, slain by his own blade.
The Ruhin are real, and so is the threat of them.
“Do you believe him?” Rai asks, slate grey eyes watching as Suerte speaks with Trahern, animatedly describing something to the self-proclaimed blacksmith. The older man humors him, listening patiently.
The toe of one leather boot pokes the corpse in the side, watching it rock back and forth on the ground. “Hard not to,” Haiden remarks tonelessly, and draws his cloak tighter around his frame. The winds are changing, bringing the heavy scent of oncoming rain. It will be a long, wet night, especially with no shelter to be found. “It's not like there's a better explanation.”
Rai grunts, focusing on the others huddled around the fire. Ryn attempts to draw Loka into conversation, and receives nothing for her efforts. The child, Gaelin, hasn't spoken a word since they had been introduced, leaving Rai to wonder if the kid could.
Even more telling is the final member of their group, sitting on the far reaches as though trying to blend into the night. An impossibility considering the pale shade of her hair and skin.
Maro is a bonelord and it is well-known that they prefer not to associate with humans. Yet, Maro had been the first to volunteer for Suerte's suicide mission to Weirth. The companion she lost in Starkly's fall might have something to do with it. But since she has started snubbing everyone after her initial declaration, Rai isn't inclined to wander over and ask.
“It's foolishness,” Rai mutters, wondering if any of the others planned to join Suerte's cause. If they have been moved by his tale and his desire to play hero.
Haiden shifts, and his sword rattles in its sheath, the clanking carrying through the dim. “He has a point. How much of a coincidence can it be that we all left Alliele, only to arrive in the same place. And choose the very same inn?”
“Fate is nothing more than an excuse, Haiden. You know that,” Rai counters sharply as the first sprinkling of rain drops down onto face, slightly warm as Spring showers usually are. “A place to lay blame when people don't want to take responsibility for their choices.”
“Hmm.” Haiden doesn't sound convinced, but then, he suscribes more to destiny than Rai. “I still think he's right, though. Someone has to do it.”
Rai snorts. “Yeah, that's probably true. But no one says that someone has to be us either. Risking my life for a bunch of strangers who won't even be grateful? Don't think so.”
“And what if no one does? Where will Umbra be then?” Haiden asks, and Rai realizes that his friend has already made up his mind. Somewhere in the middle of Suerte's passionate speech, Haiden decided to help him.
Rai curses under his breath, fixing Suerte with a glare that the young man can't see from his position. He really wants to burn a hole through Suerte's back for filling Haiden's head with that hero nonsense.
“You that eager to die?” Rai spits in Haiden's direction, half-angry and half-afraid as well. Because he doesn't want to join this fight and yet Rai knows that he may do just that.
“Not particularly, no,” Haiden replies honestly and looks past Rai, to the mountains on the horizon, dark forms against an even darker sky. “We can do this. Because if we don't, and no one does, then we might as well all prepare to die.”
“Or run away,” Rai mutters bitterly.
Haiden forces in a deep breath and releases it slowly. “I doubt you'll do that, Rai. You're not a coward.”
“No, I'm not. And I'm also no knight. Or a paladin. You'll have to preach Suerte's nonsense to some other fool.” With a final glance towards the corpse at his feet, Rai turns away from the group with the intention of locating Flynt and leaving the others to their ludicrous heroics.
Fingers grab his arm before Rai manages more than two steps, dragging him to a halt. He whirls to find Haiden glaring at him, stormy eyes flashing. It is a sight that used to be familiar to Rai, before his abrupt departure from Lathe.
“You wanted adventure, didn't you?” Haiden demands. “Well, this is it. You left Lathe for this very thing!”
“I didn't want to leave so I could save the world,” Rai retorts, but he can already feel himself wavering. The fingers around his arm are like iron bars. Still, he isn't trying all that hard to escape either.
“Maybe not, but you wanted something. And I'll bet anything that you still haven't found it.”
When Rai doesn't immediately budge, Haiden growls in frustration. “Come on, Rai. I need your help. I can't protect these scrappers on my own.”
It is rather shameful of him to be swayed by those few words, but most convincing is Haiden admitting that he needs Rai in some fashion. Heaving a great sigh, Rai reaches up and pulls Haiden's fingers from his arm. Rai has the feeling that he succumbs far too easily, and that he really is just as a big an idiot as the rest of them for even considering this madness.
“Stop begging,” he says tiredly, forcing himself back towards the fire and their new companions. “It's pitiful. No wonder I always beat you when we spar.”
Haiden laughs and claps a hand on Rai's shoulder. “I should have known you wouldn't let me down. Between the two of us, what's a couple of hundred Ruhin, ne?”
“A couple of hundred Ruhin,” Rai muses aloud, snapping out of his recollections with a shake of his head.
They had been so naïve back then. A couple hundred Ruhin had only been the start of the madness. Giving in to Fate like that had been folly and even now, Rai wonders why they couldn't have just let things lie. Or why he had let Haiden talk him into it.
Haiden stirs at the sound of Rai's voice, his forehead crinkling in confusion. “I doubt that's the problem here,” he says, giving Rai a strange look.
“Probably not,” Rai agrees, rather than explain his trip into the past. He stares at Haiden. “But it's still probably something you can't handle on your own. I'll help you play the knight again.”
The smile that cracks Haiden's face is enough to make Rai feel it's worth it. Even if he still can't shake the sensation of something not-quite-right.
Dawn barely peeks over the horizon when they ride out of Tennyson manor, horses plied with supplies and weapons sharpened and at the ready. Rynneth had accepted Haiden's departure with grace, merely pouting that she would miss him and hoping that nothing untoward was wrong with Loka. She promised that by the time they returned, she and Haiden would be wed. Rai would've had to have been blind to miss the faint look of uneasiness Haiden had given her.
Following Haiden's lead, they take the west gate – the “back” gate – out of Weirth, where they are least likely to run into any fans. Most specifically of Haiden's, since Lord Tennyson had gone to great efforts to expound on Haiden's deeds. In fact, every one of the so-called heroes are becoming well-known thanks to the lord, except for Rai; he prefers it that way.
“If Loka's not at the guild, then where is she?” Rai asks the moment they are out in the open, and he can breathe a bit easier without being surrounded by opulence and servants catering to his every whim.
Stormy eyes lock on the horizon, pinking with golds and oranges as the sun rises behind them. “Yule,” he responds. “It's a few days ride from here.”
“That's the opposite direction from the guild.” Rai finds himself even more confused. Just what in Solan's name is wrong with Loka? “Why didn't she just go to them for aid?”
“Because she doesn't want them to know,” Haiden explains with an exasperated noise. “Allmighty, Rai, did you even read the letter?”
The hunter shrugs dismissively. “Enough of it. I got the important bits,” Rai replies defensively. He hadn't originally planned on helping, after all. Why would he care enough to gather all the necessary information?
Haiden rolls his eyes. “Glad to see nothing's changed. How about I just point you in the direction of the enemy and you can slash from there. Will that work?”
He snorts, shifting as his shoulder starts to throb. “Give me some credit, Haiden. I'm not that reckless.”
“You might as well be, now and then,” Haiden counters. “I distinctly remember a time when Ryn--”
“Ugh,” Rai groans, interrupting Haiden with a grimace. “Let's not talk about her at all, shall we? It's bad enough that you're marrying her.”
He expects Haiden to be affronted, but instead, the other man regards him with curiosity. He doesn't even make an effort to defend his intended. “You never did like her.”
“No, and I still don't,” Rai replies bluntly, seeing no need to mince words. He's always considered Ryn about two steps from useless and he finds it amusing that where she once used to try to cling to him, she has now switched her attention to Haiden.
He has every intention of explaining further, perhaps even calling Haiden on what appears to be mixed feelings on his own marriage, when a scent floats his direction. Lemon spice and leather, a familiar odor that he has come to learn in the past six months of hunting. His instincts sharpen, and the prickle on the edge of his scalp is all the warning he needs.
The wind stirs again and Rai reacts quickly. “Down!” he orders and is glad that Haiden obeys without question as they drop to the ground, narrowly avoiding arrows that shoot from seemingly nowhere.
Rai knows these enemies, however. They intended to miss, wanting to drive their prey from their horses to fight on even ground. The Ruhin love a good fight as much as any human. Especially when they have to work for it.
“Damn tiharire,” Rai mutters under his breath, fumbling at the strap for his sword and drawing it free. He meets Haiden's gaze. “Sure you can still fight, captain?”
He is greeted with a challenging stare before Haiden draws his sword and disappears around the side of his horse, the ringing sound of blade meeting blade filling the air.
Rai smirks and follows Haiden's example, rising to meet the studded mace of his own opponent. A face that is too pretty to belong on such a bloodthirsty creature grins down at him. But Rai has been hunting the Ruhin for the past six months. He knows their strengths and their weaknesses.
Ducking under a swing, Rai drops into a crouch and slams his elbow into the tiharire's knee. A satisfying crack accompanies the motion, and the tiharire howls, cursing in his own language. Rai leaps to his feet, blocking an angry swipe and slicing his blade across the tiharire's abdomen. Blood gushes out and Rai nimbly avoids the blue spray, as well as the last dying strike in the form of raking claws.
Rai has no time to savor the victory, whirling to face another opponent swooping down from above. Their blades meet and the force of the attack drives Rai back a pace. He grits his teeth, pushing against the Ruhin's greater strength.
He hates it when they attack from above; it puts him at a disadvantage. In the background, the clash of metal on metal assures him that Haiden is still fighting as well, not that Rai considers asking for help. He has survived the past few months on his own after all.
The Ruhin above him cackles, wings flapping to hold him aloft. He shouts something that is likely a taunt, but is difficult to tell considering the language barrier. Rai sneers and shifts his weight, directing the force of the Ruhin's attack to the side. It catches the tiharire off balance and he careens to the side, causing the metal of their blades to screech as one slides down the other.
Rai grunts, the Ruhin's weight making him lose his grip on the hilt. He lets the sword slip through his fingers and lashes out with a boot, catching his opponent in the side. He hears a crack as his kick crunches a few bones, easy to do with an enemy as thin as the tiharire. A wing – resembling something a dragonfly bears – nearly slaps him in the face but he avoids it, and the subsequent kick that the Ruhin directs his way. The damn things are fast.
The tiharire rolls out from under him, trying to regain his footing, and Rai catches sight of the hilt of his sword. Rai dives for it, fingers wrapping around the cold bone and in a split-second, he throws his body to the side, narrowly avoiding the claws aiming for his body. The Ruhin snarls again, but Rai is already catching his footing, swinging the blade through the air.
It connects with the Ruhin's neck, slicing clean through and sending the head flying off into the bushes. The body totters for all of a second before crumpling, wings twitching in death throes.
Panting, Rai turns towards Haiden, only to see that the last of the Ruhin is sneaking up behind him, fully prepared to kill. Honorless cretin. He hurriedly snatches the dagger out of his boot and flicks it across the road, the blade neatly slamming into the back of the Ruhin's head. As the body tumbles forward, it reveals Haiden's astonished face watching the tiharire fall.
“Getting soft in your life of luxury,” Rai taunts, smirking victoriously. “Is this how the captain of the guard plans on protecting his king?”
“I haven't accepted it yet,” Haiden reminds him, toeing the corpse at his feet with some disinterest. “Good throw though. Right on target.”
Rai shakes his head and reaches for his leather pouch. No need to waste a good bounty after all, even if they are only tiharire and not nearly as lucrative as a shedim or zafrire.
a/n: Feedback, as always, is perfectly welcome.
Onwards to chapter three!
