Chapter 2. The Night Visitor

"I'm sick of you and your damn rules!" Raimont stormed into their rented room before Ravin and Jules reached the stairhead. The door wailed on its hinges. The occupant of the neighbouring room banged on the wall, demanding silence. The young hunter responded with a thump so hard the plank barely survived it. "I'm a grown man! I didn't need anyone to rescue me!"

Jules balled his fists, imagining them hitting Rai's face. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see Sokal's last look, and he still seemed to hear the hound's raspy breath. He'd risked everything for Rai, yet the older apprentice behaved like it had been Jules' fault. The boy could swallow Rai's ingratitude - yet, he couldn't accept how easily Raimont shrugged Sokal's sacrifice off.

"That licher almost bit off your face!" Jules realised that he'd yelled only after his words echoed between the walls. Then, a strong hand fell onto his shoulder and squeezed it.

"Enough," Ravin's voice left no place for an argument. "Quiet, both of you."

"I didn't need help," Raimont spat the words out. "I had it under control!"

Jules' eyes flashed with golden fire. The empty jugs shook on the small table as the boy tried to squash his anger. Two mugs joggled, one of them nearly reached the table's edge. The strong hand squeezed his shoulder harder, a calloused thumb rubbing his arm. Jules held his breath. The jug and the mugs stopped rattling.

"You two almost got killed," The hunter glared at his older apprentice. He let go of Jules's shoulder to approach the young man. He took a hold on the reila that Raimont was still gripping and whipped it from his hands.

In the fireplace, flames recoiled to hide under the logs. Raimont gritted his teeth. Different emotions washed over his face: a mixture of anger, regret, and guilt. He glared at his teacher, his honey eyes ablaze.

"I'm fed up with this!" Raimont turned on his heels and stormed out of the room.

Jules froze with his mouth open to call after him - torn between his own anger and the desire to run after Rai and drag him back. He pursed his lips into a thin white line. Then, he turned toward his master - the hunter stood there, staring at the door, his expression unreadable.

The boy inhaled deeply, fighting against the tears that gathered under his eyelids. He closed the door; he knew Raimont would be back once he cooled down - he always was, fighting with Ravin, leaving and returning to mutter a meaningless apology. Ravin always forgave him, and Jules also did - after all, it was Rai, impulsive and reckless, who had offered to be Jules' big brother when the boy had lost his family.

"Rai can take care of himself," Ravin tossed his cloak away. He walked to the bathtub that waited at them across the beds and washed his face. Removing his shirt, he exposed a muscular chest marked with old, white scars. "Get yourself clean, Jules. Lichers' blood causes a rash."

Dark blood had already clotted on Jules' shirt and trousers, making the material stiff. A wave of nausea washed over the boy. He pressed his hand to his mouth as he felt his dinner fighting its way out of his stomach. He had never felt this way about blood before; maybe the possibility that it was Sokal's made it worse.

Black gore covered also his hunting knife. In the quiver, arrows stuck in all directions, most of them broken, their feathers unkempt. Jules unstrung his bow; a bloody imprint of his hand remained on the grip as a reminder of the dreadful night. It had soaked deep into the wood and would not wash out.

The boy tossed his clothes onto the pile in the corner of the room. He stepped into the washtub, grabbed the soap and started scrubbing fiercely at his dirty hands.

"Jules," Concern replaced the grimness in the hunter's voice. "Easy, you'll rub your skin off."

The boy raised his head; in the old mirror that stood propped against the wall, his reflexion stared at him, his face pale with red strains of blood around his nose. The blue eye appeared navy in the light of the fire, while the other, the brown one, seemed almost black.

The boy bit hard on his lower lip, freezing for a second or two, his bi-colour eyes becoming hazy and distant. Then, he took a bowl to pour water over himself, soaped his hair and rubbed them madly until he was sure all the blood was gone. The brown locks stuck in all directions, the strands frizzing from moisture.

"Did Sokal..." Jules slumped down to sit in the tub. "When you... Did it hurt him much?"

"No," Ravin handed him a towel. The boy pressed his face into it, giving out a painful sigh. "He had a quick death. Don't dwell on it."

"But how?" Jules' voice came out muffled. He raised his head a bit, his reddened eyes gazing at Ravin as the hunter knelt by the tube to wash his face.. "Sokal died because of Rai... Or did he die because of me?"

"Sokal died protecting you both," the man motioned at him to get out of the water. He scrabbled at the crust of blood that dried on his short beard, then took off his shirt and threw it away. His shoulders and chest, broad and muscular, were marked by old, white scars; some of them bitemarks or claw marks - like the one that cut across the hunter's face, changing each of his rare smiles into a grimace. "We were his pack, and he would always stand between us and any danger. He had a long, happy life, especially with you spoiling him rotten. Think of the good memories."

Jules looked away, blinking away the tears that burnt his eyes. He scrambled out of the washtub, towelled himself dry and pulled on a pair of clean trousers. Then, he flopped onto his bed, sinking into the fur sleeping bag spread on it for protection against the bedbugs that could be dwelling inside the bedtick.

He felt the bedtick sink under Ravin, as the hunter sat by his apprentice. Jules ignored him, not eager for the lecture he fully deserved, yet he had no strength left to listen to.

"I'm sorry I went against your orders," he muttered into his small, flat pillow. "Gods know I'm sorry that Sokal died. But I don't regret helping Rai. If I hadn't, and he'd died, then how would I live with it?"

"I understand why you did it," the admission made Jules look up at his master. The hunter's eyes were black like a lump of coal that had burnt out and lost its fire. "But what you must understand is that you had no chance against such a beast like the licher."

"So what?" Jules' voice trembled, "I couldn't have stayed on that damned tree and let Rai die!"

"You couldn't have helped him. Maybe you would have had a chance if you had taken your bow, but you left it," Ravin placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You're not a hunter yet, Jules. You're a boy. A child under my care."

"I'm not a child!" the boy protested. "I'm fourteen!"

"Tonight we've lost Sokal," Ravin ignored him. Jules glared, pursing his lips, "I wish he had survived. But at the same time, I'm glad it's him who lies in the forest now. Not you."

The boy didn't respond. He couldn't - his throat was too dry and tightened to speak. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he blinked furiously to hold them back.

"Get some sleep," the hunter let go of the boy's arm and headed out, "I still need to clean the weapons and find Raimont."

Once he closed the door, Jules let the tears finally fall. The bed pitched under him like a boat, and the room slowly disappeared. The snores that came through the walls from other rooms turned into a quiet hum of gentle waves - the exact sound Jules used to fall asleep to before he'd left his home village.

The boy had barely fallen asleep when a bang woke him up. He jumped off the bed and reached for the hunting knife that should be on the bedside table - but he tripped over his shoe and fell to the ground with a loud thump.

"Raimont, for gods' sake!" Ravin conjured the glowing magical ball and blueish light filled the room. He opened the door. "What the -?!

On the threshold, there stood a stout dark figure - Jules froze on the floor - and it was about to step into the room when the hunter's blade stopped just by its throat.

"Woah!" the stranger jumped back, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "Is this how you greet your old friends, Ravin Blake?""

Now the bluish light reached the man's face - grey with tiredness, surrounded by a bushy red beard. The hunter's lips twisted in a little smirk and the scar cutting his cheek bulged. He withdrew the knife and put it in the sheath by his belt.

"John Rogre, thoughtless like always," the hunter shook the stranger's hand. "Did you want me to accidentally murder you?"

The newcomer walked into the room and closed the door. He rested one hand on the hilt of a sword he carried by his belt - the other was smoothing his ginger beard as he noticed Jules standing up from the floor.

"He has Vivienne's hair," a grin spread on his greyish face when he motioned at the boy. "And her -"

"He's my apprentice," Ravin interrupted him drily. His dark eyes sparkled dangerously, and John Rogre's smirk disappeared from his face. "What are you doing here? How have you found me?"

"Kedmon sent me to search for you," the man said in a low voice. "We heard rumours you were around. Strange things happen in Arvene. People are scared. We need a hunter, and you're the only one we can trust."

The men shared a meaningful look - there were no words exchanged, and Jules couldn't guess the meaning to it. But then Ravin broke the eye contact, nodding sharply.

"Water your horse. We'll be ready in ten minutes"

The stranger turned around and left as suddenly as he entered. Jules stared at the door, rooted to the spot, while Ravin pulled his shoes on.

"What's going on?" the boy motioned at the door. "Who is he?"

"John Rogre. My old friend," the hunter reached for his cloak. "And Kedmon," he continued before the boy threw another question at him. "He's either the son of the Lord of Arvene or the Lord himself if his father has died. It's been a while since I've last heard from them."

"But - "

"Pack our things. I'll saddle Opal," Ravin cut him short. "Hurry up."

He walked into the corridor and closed the door, leaving his apprentice alone with his thoughts.

Jules pulled on his shoes and reached for his backpack. Over the years he'd spent with the hunters he got used to packing quickly and leaving in a hurry.

There wasn't much to pack as he didn't own many things besides an old bestiary and three white stones from his family's graves. Now he grabbed his clothes, rolled and stuffed them into the backpack. Then, he put the healing potions into Ravin's saddlebag and walked to the third bed. Raimont hadn't come back yet, so packing his things rested on Jules' shoulders.

Rai's backpack had disappeared from where Jules had last seen it. Scanning the room, he realised there was only one reila's shaft resting against the wall. On the table, only one blade dried after oiling.

The door burst open and he jumped in alarm.

"Are you done here?" Ravin entered the room. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find Rai's things," Jules gestured around, puzzled. "His backpack and weapon are gone."

"Raimont left," a note of worry sounded in the hunter's voice as he gathered his saddlebags and motioned at Jules to take his backpack. "He decided to go to Ree. He wants to take the Master exam. When I heard the banging I thought he came back, but I guess he's too stubborn."

"He left!?" The boy gaped at Ravin. Ree, the capital, was at the other side of the Limra Kingdom, days if not weeks away. "And you let him go?"

"Raimont is an adult. If he wants to take the exam, I can't forbid it," Ravin's eyebrows hung low above his eyes like storm clouds. "I know you're upset, but right now, we have to go. Rogre wouldn't have ridden all this way if the problem wasn't urgent."

Jules balled his fists. They had just lost Sokal, and now Raimont was gone too. How could he leave after what had happened, without a word of goodbye?

"He knows where to find us," Ravin's face condemned no emotions as he screwed the reila's blade to its long shaft. Then he took the saddlebag, pitched it over his arm and headed out of the room. "Take your things. We're leaving."

Jules hung the bow case and quiver over his back, then grabbed his backpack and ran after his master.