Caracara's Hunt 43 Clean Up

He kept yawning and almost fell asleep on his feet. Corwal had to catch him before he went down to say hi to the cobbles of the street.

The Challenge was illegal, so the event couldn't take place near the town. They boarded a carriage that belonged to the woman and left. In no more than five seconds, Arawn was asleep. Even the continuous shaking and b.u.mping of the shoddily made carriage didn't manage to keep him awake.

"Get up. We've reached our destination."

Only a few moments seemed to have pa.s.sed when Arawn felt his shoulder being shaken. He cracked one eye open and glared at Corwal. "Leave me be," he murmured before closing his eyes back again.

Instead of saying anything more, Corwal grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out. Arawn scrabbled to catch his balance, finding himself on all four. A few chuckles came from around him, and he raised his head to see a number of men standing in small groups nearby.

He pushed the sleep away and forced his mind to function while standing up. Slowly, he recalled what Corwal had said. If they were at the location, then the people around him had to be the woman's faction.

At first glance, they didn't look too bad. Most of them wore leather armor and had swords at their hips. A few had s.h.i.+elds attached to their backs or smaller ones bound to their off hands.

Unlike the Gutter's residents, they weren't all muscle. More than half were as lean as birch trees. Yet the scars on their faces and hands revealed that it wasn't because they were useless in battle.

Once Arawn paid more attention to them, he noticed an interesting detail. The scars were mostly burn marks and various cuts that didn't seem to have been made by any blade. 'Could they all be mages?' he wondered.

Corwal walked to where the woman stood, and Arawn followed. The woman looked no different from before. She was dressed in brown leather clothes while her hair was pulled up in a tight bun. Two daggers were still on her sides as well.

"You're finally here," she said upon noticing them. "Still want to partic.i.p.ate?"

"Wouldn't want to miss such an exercise," Corwal said with a smile toward a circle of men surrounding the woman.

There were scowls on most of their faces, but they didn't dare to say anything. For whatever reason they followed the woman, it was clear that it meant they would not question her choices. Or maybe she had told them that they were threatened to cease existing if they refused. That could have worked like a charm as well.

It could also explain the open disgust on their faces.

"I'll put you in the second challenge then, is that fine?"

"Perfect. I might join the first as well if I get too bored."

"Be my guest," the woman said. A few men around her sneered, not believing Corwal.

From what Arawn had heard the day before, no one with a brain would start the second challenge. It was almost certainly a death sentence. One could surrender, of course, but it was a hit to the pride and the prestige of their faction. In other words, people rather died than did that.

Since the woman didn't want them in her inner talks with her lieutenants, they stepped away and Arawn decided to practice a bit. He began counting the people. The first ten were easy, but then they started moving and he lost his concentration. With determination, he restarted a couple more times before reaching forty-two.

"Forty-four," Corwal said when Arawn told him about it. "You forgot the two of us, but good job. You remembered the numbers."

That was because it was easy. The bigger problem lay in trying to add and subtract.

Before he could practice that though, a horn sounded somewhere in the distance. Everyone raised their heads, listening to the three calls, then the woman ordered a person nearby to answer. The horn they used was a lot shriller and painful to the ears.

When it finished, the mercenaries formed a ragged line of three people per row and marched off in the direction of the sound. Corwal didn't bother joining them. He walked by the side, whistling a melody Arawn had never heard before.

In a while, a large field opened up before them. On the other side of it, something like an army dressed in black emerged. The men wore dark armor with a talon symbol above their hearts. They walked as one, and the one in the lead even rode a beast Arawn had never seen before.

It wasn't as tall as a horse but at least twice as wide. It had the face of a bull, but one that had been flattened by a giant hammer, and miniature doleful eyes.

There was a thick horn that was a bit longer than a hand above its nose. When coupled with the creature's stocky form and muscled body, it presented a nasty image. Anyone who the creature didn't like would face a really painful death.

"There's around a hundred fifty of them," Corwal muttered, his merriment from a moment ago gone.

"Isn't it a bit too large a difference?" Arawn asked quietly.

Corwal shook his head. "The Challenge needs six people at most, plus the leader. The real problem is that they have a lot more talent. I can recognize a few of those people, and they're good."

The man on the weird beast called a halt, and his people stopped. He then rode toward the open field. The woman also did the same, and they met in the center.

"So you're still alive, Rain. I'm quite amazed," the man shouted out with a sleazy smile. He wasn't the least bit ashamed of checking out the less than appropriate body parts of his opponent. "With whom did you sleep to keep your position for so long?"

A soft grumble went through the crowd of mercenaries near Arawn. They glared at the man on the beast with murder in their eyes.

The woman named Rain didn't look ruffled though. She put her hands on her hips and grinned at the man provocatively. "Is that jealousy I hear? Did no one agree to sleep with you?" She then raised her hands and made a thinking pose. "Was it the smell? The stinky hair? The unwashed clothes? Oh, wait, I know! Was it the beard? It has to be the beard! I can still see what you ate for lunch two weeks ago!"

"Rain…" The man's expression twitched at her mockery, but a lecherous smile soon appeared on his face. He licked his lips while keeping his eyes on Rain. "Once I win the Challenge, you'll be mine. I'll beat that wildness out of you."

"Are you sure you're man enough for that?" Rain asked with raised eyebrows. "I've seen you, and you're not that great down there."

Red colored the man's cheeks, and he pulled on the reins of his beast. The creature made a weird sound that was between a cow's moo and a horse's neigh and dashed forward with its horn aimed at the woman.

She seemed to have expected it, for she lunged to the side and rolled out of harm's way. Before the beast could turn around and go for her again, she was on her feet and running toward her mercenaries. When the man on the beast turned to glower at her, she waved and sent a kiss his way.

Her people cackled and jeered at the other leader, but Arawn paid more attention to Rain. There was a smile on her face, but it was shaky. Sweat covered her brow, and her hands were trembling.

Yet before anyone could make note of that, she reached them and beamed at her people. "Ready to bash them to the ground and show who's the real core of the Broken Talon?" Her voice was strong and steady, igniting the fire in the mercenaries' hearts.

They shouted with hands raised, ready to fight and win. Some men adjusted their weapon belts and flexed their fingers. They wanted to go out and slaughter their enemy for disrespecting their leader and them.

"She's got the support of her crew, but it won't be enough," Corwal murmured.

His eyes were on the enemy camp which was quiet in comparison. The men there welcomed their leader without a word, standing still like statues.

Once Rain's people calmed down a little, she sent ten people forward. The other side did the same, and they met in the middle. Without a word shared, they began forming the arena. Earth mages dug a ditch around a fifty meter in diameter circular area. It was soon filled with water brought over by both sides.

Next, each side brought out four torches and secured them at the back of the circle as well as to the sides. They were lit up right after, and the arena was prepared. There were elements for all types of mages.

The two camps advanced forward. Each formed half a circle a meter or so away from the ditch on their side. There was silence for a moment, then two people stepped forward. They were from different camps and stopped right after jumping over the ditch.

Rain's man was in his early thirties. He looked splendid in his s.h.i.+ny new leather armor when he drew his sword. It reflected the sunlight on its blemish-free surface. There wasn't a single nick on the blade.

His opponent was a man in his forties. He stood with a relaxed posture, not even bothering to draw his sword in preparation to the duel. This unsettled Rain's man, but he swiftly put on a c.o.c.ky smile and shouted, "Too afraid to even draw your weapon? Knew you were all dogs in Garshta's camp."

The black-dressed man moved at that moment. Ether gathered in his hands before surging into the ground. Like a land shark, it swam toward the unprepared fighter. Rain's man noticed what was happening only when the attack was halfway up to him, and he jumped to the side in fear.

This earned him a chuckle from the enemy camp, and he glared at them before realizing he was in a dangerous situation. The ether in the earth followed his every move, not giving him a moment to get his bearings.

He wasn't totally useless though. The ether was fast, but it needed a fraction of the second to shape the earth to trap the man's feet. Whenever it attempted that, Rain's man would jump away and create momentary distance between himself and the ether.

At first, the crowd watched the chase in silence, but then someone could take it no longer. "Rohan, stop playing around! Kill that idiot!" This shout was soon followed by another, and all of the mercenaries began to holler their advice.

The enemy camp stayed silent, however. There were a few sneers and mocking glances sent toward Rain's people, but no one took the initiative to speak.

"They're very certain in their victory," Arawn said in a soft voice. With the constant noise around them, no one but Corwal could hear him.

"Because they're going to win," Corwal said. He watched the fight for a moment more before shaking his head and sighing. "The man's not bad, skill-wise, but he's an idiot. He should have rushed the opponent at the start, when he was still full of energy. Now he can only keep dodging until his strength runs out."

It was the first time Arawn saw a real duel, so he listened to Corwal's commentary and tried to understand what it meant. Rain's man didn't look like he was in too much of a disadvantage. He was moving about at the same speed as before, dodging the earth that was trying to trap him from below.

Something suddenly came to Arawn. Wasn't it a mage duel? Why was he not using any elements? It was impossible that Rain would have sent someone without any talent for ether.

He watched for a bit longer and realized the problem. The man could still dodge without much trouble, but he didn't have the time to counter-attack. If he stopped for a moment to call upon the ether, he'd get caught and locked in place.

In a while, the others also noticed it. Their excited shouts grew quieter, and they began to glare at the enemy. The black-dressed man smirked at his opponent. He hadn't moved from his position since the very start.

After a couple more painful to watch minutes, Rain's man also realized what was happening. His eyes went wide, and he made a mad dash for his opponent.

Corwal sighed again. "He should have surrendered."

The next moment, the black-dressed man lunged forward and stabbed his sword into Rohan's chest. It happened so fast, no one managed to react before the man with s.h.i.+ny new armor and blade fell to the ground.

With confusion on his face, he tried to say something, but life fled his body. The strength that had held his head gave out, and it hit the ground with a soft thump. The sound echoed through the silent field like the loudest fireworks.

The black-dressed man pulled out his sword and cleaned it on the dead man's pants. He turned to walk back to his camp, then stopped and looked back. "Trash. You're all nothing but trash. It's time we cleaned up our ranks."