Alone in the dim room of the uninhabited tower, Jules slumped in a chair, resting his head on the arm he lay on the table. Beside his hand, strong tea was getting cold at the bottom of a clay mug. Watching the fire cracking in the fireplace, the boy let his thoughts wander in silence.
Usually, Sokal would be there, under the table, and Jules would stick his feet into the dog's thick fur to keep them warm. Or they would lie together close to the fire, the hound being a licking furry pillow under the boy's head. But the hound was gone. Jules balled his fist and slammed it against the tabletop.
"What is this noise?" the door opened, revealing the hunter standing on the threshold. He rested one hand on the door handle while holding a grey package under his armpit. "I thought you would be already asleep. It was a rough day, not mentioning the night before."
"I'm fine, and coming to the wetlands with you," Jules rubbed his eyes to get rid of the few tears that gathered in their corners. "I mean, I can at least carry the bag, if you -"
"Of course you're coming," Ravin cut him short. He closed the door and approached the table to lay the package on the tabletop before Jules. "You're my apprentice after all, aren't you? We're short of time, so I'll kill the swamper, but you should see how it's done."
Jules nodded, relief washing over his face. He had half-expected Ravin to leave him at the castle; after what had happened the last night, he wouldn't be surprised if his master refused to take him along. But now the hunter motioned at him to unwrap the package, shifting Jules' attention back to reality.
It was long and rather thin, and when Jules pulled it closer, it clattered. The grey cloth revealed a reila's parts: two metallic bars and a sword-like blade.
"Woah! Don't tell me - is it for me, really?"
"I used it when I was an apprentice myself," Ravin watched the boy screwing the parts together with a hint of pride in his dark eyes. "You still need to grow into it, but it's better than none, and it'll be useful at the swamps."
"I'll take the best care of it, I swear!" Jules reached for the blade. It was the basic type that every hunter used. Other ones, resembling forks or hooks or even saws were usually owned by the Lords for whom the hunters worked.
When he screwed the blade to the shaft, the weapon dwarfed him. Jules looked in the mirror that stood in the corner of the bedroom and grimaced - he had to grow about a head taller to use his reila comfortably. Now he readjusted his grip to hold it firmly and gave it a swing.
It would have been a perfect right-to-left cut if Ravin didn't grab the reila's shaft.
"It's not a stick wrapped in cloth anymore," the hunter took the reila out of his apprentice's hands and leaned it by his own one, awaiting him by the door. "I haven't sharpened the blade yet, but it's still a potentially deadly weapon. Do not swing it carelessly."
"Sorry. I've just got excited," Jules couldn't help smiling despite Ravin's stern expression. "I can't wait to see Rai's face! You'll teach me to fight with it before he's back, won't you?"
"For now, just get dressed," Ravin closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he exhaled deeply. "The sun's already low. We're leaving."
The Stone Town was nearly deserted; as they rode down the narrow streets they met only several workers scurrying in shadows back to their homes. They cast the hunters' hostile glares; each time, Jules pulled the hood of his black cloak down to hide his face. Looking at Ravin's back, he wondered how his master felt about it - he had grown in Arvene after all, and those people must have been people he used to know.
YOU ARE READING
The Raven's Chronicles. Rage of the Wraith
FantasíaJules Jones, a fourteen years old orphan is an apprentice to a grumpy hunter - a mage warrior whose profession is to fight demons and monsters. When they are hired to repel the curse hanging over Arvene Feud, Jules discovers the Lord's dark secret:...