Caracara's Hunt 29 Hired

"How far is that city? Can we walk there?" Arawn asked.

"Too long. I don't have much money left either, so we'll be selling our services."

Money was a concept that Arawn had yet to explore. He knew it were the s.h.i.+ny circular things people exchanged, but Corwal had said he should leave it alone for the time being. After all, Arawn's counting ability didn't go past his ten fingers.

Near the gates, they took a sharp turn to the right and reached a large square which was full of wagons. People were only getting out of them and yawning while s.h.i.+elding their eyes to look at the sun. Most of them were dressed in plain tunics, with few looking better off.

Corwal led them to one of the larger wagons with a red roof. A man with a sword at his belt raised his hand to stop them. "What is your business here?"

"I'd like to meet the caravan master. I heard she's looking for hired help."

"And you think she'd take you?" the man sneered. He was middle-aged and with grey hair at his temples, but still spry. The way he moved betrayed his military upbringing.

A woman's head popped out from the back of the caravan at that moment. She was no more than twenty, and her red hair looked like flames in the morning light. Arawn almost took a step back at the sight; he'd never seen such a weird thing.

"What's the noise?" she asked, eyeing them with interest.

"Are you the owner of this caravan?" When the woman nodded, Corwal continued. "Then I'd like to offer my services. I'm a water based mage and my friend here is good with ether."

The woman watched him with her brow creased, then her eyes lit up with recognition. "You're the two from the day before! I saw you put down that beast!"

She clapped her hands while Corwal inclined his head, and she jumped off the wagon. "My sister wanted to find and thank you, but you seemed to have disappeared in the chaos after the attack. Come! She really wants to meet you!"

In the next wagon, the woman spent a few minutes waking up her sister and explaining to her what was happening. When she emerged, she was followed by a young woman Arawn recognized. She was the person with the two children before which Corwal had jumped out to protect from the beast.

Upon seeing him, the woman went on her knees and bowed. Tears flowed from her eyes. "Thank you, thank you!" she repeated. "You saved the lives of my children and me. I don't know how we could ever repay you. Thank you. May your soul go straight to heaven."

Caught a little off guard, Corwal took a moment to lift the woman up from the ground. "You don't need to do this. I just did what anyone would have done."

"But they didn't," the woman said with a sneer. "They all ran away like cowards, all the high-paid guards we had hired." There was such vehemence in her words that even Arawn felt a chill go down his back.

"That's… They probably had good reason…"

"Yeah, to save their own pathetic lives. They—"

"Lis," the younger woman said, giving her older sister a chagrining look. "They're not here to hear about your troubles. They came looking for employment."

This seemed to surprise the elder sister. She stopped and gave them a onceover. "You want to be hired by us?" At a nod, the woman leveled a dark stare at her sister. "And you haven't already drawn up a contract? We can't let them change their mind!"

Corwal pretended like he wasn't there at that moment, and Arawn did the same. The exchanges between the sisters were too fast for him to understand what was happening. One moment there were tears, then smiles, anger, and then annoyance. What was even happening?

"What will we have to do?" Arawn asked while the sisters argued about the contract details among themselves.

"Nothing, if we're lucky," Corwal said with a shrug. "But if the caravan gets attacked, we'll have to risk our lives to protect it."

Some time later, the younger sister waved for them to follow her. She led them to her wagon and came out with two pieces of paper. Fresh ink still glistened on the two sentences on each one.

"I'm Deena, by the way, and this is my family's caravan. We'll need today to sell some of our excess goods, but we'll be bringing the rest to Mairya, so be here early tomorrow morning, okay?"

Corwal didn't say anything while reading through the few lines scribbled on the paper. "This is more than you'd offer your average guards."

"We already know your capabilities, and it would be a shame if you found a better offer. There are a couple caravans leaving toward Mairya at this time." Deena flicked her hair back and grinned at them. "So who are you? Ex-army? Some personal guards running away from their lord? Wait, could you be royal guard?" Her hand went to cover her mouth at that speculation.

"Miss, you sure have a wild imagination." While saying that, Corwal pocketed the two pieces of paper. "We're just some mercenaries down on our luck. Our outfit disbanded, and others around here would rather see us dead than let us join."

The girl seemed disappointed by such a common story—at least Arawn guessed it was common from her reaction—and changed the topic. She told them about their goods, which were mostly precious stones and fabrics, and how they would receive a bonus if they didn't lose a single wagon on the journey.

She then led them to the wagons a.s.signed to the guards who didn't have their animals and presented them to the man they'd met before. The middle-aged swordsman wasn't too happy to see them, but once he heard they were Lis' saviors, his expression relaxed a little.

They were a.s.signed to a wagon which already housed four men, and then were left to their own devices. Deena had to go sell some of their wares while the middle-aged man named Arthur never left her side, acting as her bodyguard.

Sitting on the wagon's edge, Arawn looked around. There were around forty other guards around them. Half of them were in similar leather armor and seemed like they belonged together, while the rest were a ragtag bunch of colors. Some had simple clothes, others mismatched pieces of armor, while a few were sweating buckets in full plate armor.

"Is armor really that useful?" Arawn asked after a moment. He could just cleave through it with ether like it wasn't even there, so what was the point of even suffering under it?

Corwal followed his gaze and smirked. "They think it makes them look strong. It has some value against normal people, but mages… he'd be fried, choked, or tripped straight away."

"So those in armor are definitely not mages. What about others?"

"Most, probably. And even those in armor should have some ability. Few people would hire guards who can't protect them from sorcerous attacks."

"What about you, why don't you wear any armor?"

Instead of answering, Corwal sent a needle of ether his way. Arawn leaned back, barely dodging it on time. "What was that!" he shouted out, angry.

"Your answer. Do you think I could be able to dodge and evade while weighted down by armor? Armor is good when fighting against normal warriors, but when faced with mages… Are you going to block the earth that opens up beneath you? The fire that threatens to scorch you? In mage battles, agility is more important than any defence. The first attack that lands usually determines the winner."

The talk of battles reminded Arawn how terrible was his own control of ether. Some people were not only able to fight with their chosen element, but even add some sword skills to compliment it. Compared to that, he was quite pathetic.

His fighting spirit blazed up, and he called upon the ether. As always, it rushed over, coating his hands. The white dust was barely noticeable in the bright morning light, but Arawn could feel the ether about to burrow into his skin. He ordered it to stay still, to not move, to remain stationary, but all of it was in vain.

No matter how he phrased it, the ether acted on its own. It was as if it only knew two commands: come and leave. Nothing else was going through its thick head.

"You're trying too hard," Corwal said from the side. He raised his left hand, and soft white light covered it. "Ether is not active in and of itself. Unless we call, it never moves. So when it comes to you, just stop calling to it. Don't give it any orders, and it will remain collected in your hands."

It sounded simple enough, but when Arawn tried to do it, he realized something he'd known before—he had no idea how he called the ether. He thought of it as calling, but he wasn't actually saying anything, or even consciously thinking about it. Like his hands, he just moved it somehow.

Still, he tried to shut off the weird connection with the ether when it came to him. This slowed the ether, and he was about to cry out in joy when he saw something strange. Why were some of the white particles drifting away from his hands? There was a weird whirlwind about his hand, with the ether going back and forth.

"Now you're telling it to come and leave at the same time. Try imaging it as pulling on a kite. If you roll the line, the kite comes closer to you, while if you let go, it would drift away. Instead of doing either of that, just hold it still."

"What's a kite?" Arawn asked, turning his head away from the ether for a moment.

Corwal covered his eyes with his hand. "I think the biggest problem with teaching you is not your lack of talent, but that you don't understand anything I tell you." He sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Just try it while I think of another way to explain it to you."

Arawn nodded, ready to call for the ether again when he saw four men standing before them. He wasn't sure when they'd come, but they didn't look like they were dangerous. One of them was holding his cap in his hands and crumpling it like it had done something to him.

"Master Mage, could we bother you to guide us as well? It would be an honor to learn from someone as great as you." The man's voice shook when he spoke with his head lowered. He didn't even dare to raise it to see Corwal's reaction.

"Why would you call me such? I'm nothing but a mercenary like you."

"Master Mage!" the man shouted out, finally raising his head. There was a fervent look in his eyes. It was full of admiration and exoneration for Corwal. "How could you compare yourself to n.o.bodies like us! We've never seen anything more glorious than your fight with the beast!"

Ignored, Arawn couldn't help scrunching up his brow. All Corwal had done was block one attack with a sword and send a bolt of ether at the beast. After that, they just ran around the field like fools until the army came and cornered it so Arawn could blast it to smithereens.

How exactly did that make Corwal a hero?

Arawn had a question for the four men: were they bad on the eyes or totally blind?