The Raven's Chronicles. Rage of the Wraith

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.