Caracara's Hunt 39 The Three Camps

The old woman still sat behind the desk with Keith by her side. He had calmed down by then and looked quite determined. Whatever they had decided, he was ready to rush out and execute it.

"You said you're interested in the mercenaries that escorted my daughter, right?" the old woman asked in a strong voice. All her sorrow had been hidden away, leaving only steely resolve to get back at people who had hurt her family.

Corwal inclined his head, not saying anything.

"I have a good idea who they might be, but you'll have to investigate them yourself. Can you do that?"

"It is no problem, Your Ladys.h.i.+p. Our stop here was mainly for information anyway."

The woman nodded, finding this to her liking. "Good. Val will come with you. He's my youngest, but few know him outside of family, so he won't be recognized."

At her words, the youngest of the three men took a step forward and gave them a slight nod. He looked to be in his early twenties and was dressed immaculately, but he lacked the air of a n.o.ble. For some reason, he didn't move with the grace and dignity of someone who'd lived his whole life above others.

"It's an honor," Corwal said, lowering his head in the man's direction. "Shall we leave straight away?"

"You're quite eager," Val said with a smile. His voice was light and pleasant to the ears.

"Two young lives are at stake. I'd rather they didn't get extinguished because I was too busy dilly-dallying."

This sobered the man up, and his smile vanished. "Let's go then."

Without another word, they left the study and walked toward the stable. On their way, Val explained that they suspected Broken Talon for being the one to have kidnapped their sister. The outfit was quite famous in Mairya, but recently, there had been unrest within it.

One of the three original leaders had died, and the power balance was shaken. The two old ones fought to take over the third's faction and become supreme while the third faction tried to reestablish itself with a new leader. After two months of this, one of the old ones had picked up his people and left for Ayersbert, leaving the other two to fight it out.

There was less infighting with one of the main initiators gone, but the tension inside the outfit only grew. The two leaders could separate, but both of them wanted to hold onto the outfit's name, since it was known all over Mairya and held a lot of power and respect.

"And you think they'd have time to play around with you in the meantime?" Corwal asked with some dissatisfaction. He didn't look convinced that they were going after the right target.

"Broken Talon was known for never colluding with other n.o.bles to betray the person who hired them, but it was before the infighting. Right now, they're the ones most likely to seek power through connections and wouldn't mind doing some risky jobs."

They reached the stables at that moment, and Arawn was forced to explain his troubles with horses. Val didn't believe it until he saw it with his own eyes. "You crazy Bretians," he muttered and found a carriage for them.

The mercenaries had their stronghold a day's ride away, and they traveled there without taking a break. Val explained more about the outfit during that time and what they were going to do once they reached their destination.

Their plan was as simple as it could get. First, Val would try to get in contact with one of the leaders to see what they could learn from them. If nothing, they would have to attempt sneaking inside under the cover of darkness and look for some proof of what the outfit had been up to in the last month.

The simplicity of the plan didn't mean that it wasn't dangerous. When Arawn heard the two's words, he thought they were crazy. How could they possibly sneak into the mercenaries' stronghold defended by at least fifty battle-hardened warriors?

Val and Corwal ignored that problem, though. They hit it off like they were long lost best friends and discussed everything surrounding the mercenaries and the kidnapping of the girl, but not their plan. It was like they were specifically avoiding that topic for some reason.

Bored, Arawn went to sleep. The shaking of the carriage was uncomfortable, but it was nothing compared to the cart before. He closed his eyes and let his mind rest.

Images of torn apart corpses filled his vision. They bled onto the ground, painting it a bright red. The crimson liquid trickled over the gra.s.s to Arawn's legs. He tried to back off, but he was surrounded. Dead bodies lay all around him, their humanoid forms twisted beyond recognition.

Only their faces remained undamaged. And they were all staring back at him with a single word on their lips "Why?". He tried to say something, but his mouth was glued shut. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn't pull his lips apart.

As dread surged through him, he saw the blood touch his feet. It rushed up his legs like a rac.o.o.n and filled his mouth, nose, and ears. He tried to grab at it, throw it away, but it was blood. It slipped past his fingers and continued to rush up to his head.

He coughed and choked, unable to breathe. His legs gave out and he fell to the ground where even more blood rushed to him.

When he thought he was about to die, long white fingers pulled him up by the neck. A familiar face entered his vision, but it belonged to a corpse. It smiled at him with savageness and laughed.

"Join me, brother," it whispered while breaking his neck.

"Arawn!" someone shouted, and he opened his eyes, blinking a couple times to get rid of the nightmare.

His heart was beating fast, and cold sweat covered his back. He could still feel the blood clogging his throat and the freezing touch of the corpse. The mere memory of it sent a shudder down his back.

"Are you okay?" Corwal asked, giving him a meaningful look.

Arawn was too busy trying to force the nightmare back to care about what was expected of him. He took hold of his breathing and forced it to slow down. Once that was done, he closed his eyes and thought of everything but the nightmare. It was a familiar one, but that didn't mean he couldn't get rid of it.

His fingers shook, and he focused on the ether. Call over and let go, call over and let go. He lost himself in the rhythm, paying attention to nothing but it.

"What's wrong with him?" he heard Val ask after some time.

"He's been through some stuff," Corwal answered in a soft voice. "There's still time till we reach our destination, so just let him be."

Val mumbled something too low to hear, but didn't bother to speak more. He rested his head against the headboard and closed his eyes, but Arawn doubted he was sleeping.

He himself felt fine by that time. Or as fine as he ever felt. Nightmares were a constant for him, but they weren't often this vibrant. It had been some time since he'd last seen the bleached corpse.

When they came to the city in which the mercenaries had set up their stronghold, Val left to go on his own. Corwal had planned to accompany him, but in the end chose to stay with Arawn.

"What happened?" he asked when they were alone once more. "I thought you were going to blast the whole carriage apart back there."

"I called to the ether?" Arawn asked in surprise. He found it quite unsettling. It was hard to control the ether while awake, so how long would it take him to learn to control it while asleep?

Corwal started to nod, then frowned. "Even I'm not sure what happened. Instead of being called, it was like the ether was sent into you by someone. It reminded me of Sly's healing. Ether rushed into you like it was going to repair some damaged part, but found nothing and swirled at an increasingly faster speed in confusion. Did something happen to you in the dream?"

"Does dying count?" Arawn asked with a dry smile.

He already knew what had happened. Ether would never let him die, and he had been certain that he was dying at that moment. This was contrary to the ether's wishes, so it rushed into him to heal all the damage he'd imagined.

"Was it about the caravan?"

Arawn looked away, glancing at the bustling street around them. They were walking through the city without any real goal besides wasting some time and maybe hearing some interesting rumor.

People milled to the right and left of them, busy with their own lives. A street trader was shouting about the various herbs he'd collected while two women were dissing him not two steps away. An urchin was hiding in a side street, watching them with s.h.i.+ning eyes. He was preparing to target them for some nefarious scheme to get food for that day.

"Is it another secret you cannot tell?" Corwal asked. He sounded a bit annoyed, but not on the verge of demanding answers.

"I... " Arawn hesitated, not able to put his emotions into words.

It was something that had happened a long time ago, but… But it was as fresh in his memory as if it had happened five minutes ago. He could recall every word he said, every move he made. There was not a second missing from his recollection.

Maybe because of it, he couldn't speak of what had happened at that time. The memory was too fresh, too painful. He knew that if he allowed himself to dwell on it for even a moment, he'd break down right there and then.

And breaking down wouldn't help anyone. He would have to collect the scattered pieces of himself once more, and there would be even less than before. Many had already been ground to dust, and with every shattering, he could find fewer and fewer.

"I was a normal human once," he said quietly, staring at the people around them. "I was young and happy, unaware of the power within me. I had family and friends. Now they haunt me like vengeful ghosts." He glanced back at Corwal for a second. "Not all wounds scar and heal."

Surprise flashed through Corwal's eyes. He gave Arawn a long look before sighing and looking away. "Yeah, they don't."

Couple hours later, they met up with Val at the tavern in which they had stabled their horses with the carriage. The young man looked exhausted and annoyed.

He ma.s.saged his temples upon sitting down at the table. "They're about to begin an all out war. The old man refused to even see me while Rain, the new girl in charge of the third camp, told me to come in two weeks. She said that by then the winner will be decided and I'll be able to hire Broken Talon."

"She's on the weaker side then. Mhm… Do you know anything about her? Is she trustworthy?"

Val looked at him in confusion. "What does it matter? It's obvious that she's fis.h.i.+ng for help, but so what? I'm not gonna march my family's people here on the off chance that she knows something about my sister."

"How cold," Corwal said with a laugh. "Don't worry, we won't need your people. Me and Arawn will be enough to determine the outcome."

"A bit conceited?" Val looked at him with disgust. "Who do you think you are? The second coming of Saint Theus?"

"No, but someone even better in this case. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to win us over some mercenaries. Arawn come, I'll introduce you to some old friends of mine."