The Raven's Chronicles. Rage of the Wraith

Chapter 14. The Night Pearls

They escorted Lord Kedmon to the edge of the forest, then watched him gallop toward the Stone Town while watering their horses by the bridge. Opal walked into the shallow river, splashing the water. Grumbler observed him from a safe distance, making sure the waterdrops wouldn't reach him.

"Rai told me what happened when you fought a wraith before," Jules squatted on the river's bank by Ravin. He scooped water in his hands to drink. "I know everybody died. How are we going to kill the wraith now?"

"You don't 'kill' a wraith," the hunter reminded, standing up. He clicked his tongue at Opal and the black stallion trotted toward him. Grumbler followed, whining unhappily. "You don't kill an undead, Jules."

"What do you do with it, then?" the boy insisted, mounting his horse. Grumbler turned his head to nib at his riders' calf. "Maybe can we still convince Melissa to give up revenge? Rosalie claims she was a good person. Maybe, if we talk to her again -"

"Jules, ghost and wraiths fall into different categories," Ravin nudged Opal's sides and the stallion walked up the road. The tubby steed followed reluctantly. "A ghost is a soul deprived of a body, but it has all the characteristics and consciousness of the living person. A wraith is an undead, created through the darkest magic when a ghost reunites with its corpse. The soul gets damaged, and the thing left is a mixture of hatred and cruelty. You can't reason with it anymore."

"I think I get it now," Jules gave a slow nod. "But it sounds bad."

"A wraith is fuelled by bloodlust and animosity. It doesn't think like the person it used to be," Ravin raised his hand to shield his face. "While the ghost, even if it has ill intentions, can still change its mind and abandon taking revenge, a wraith is fixated on its goal. The only purpose of its existence is killing Kedmon and his family. It won't rest until they all are dead or it is destroyed."

"And we have to stop it," Jules bit his lower lip. His hands tightened on Grumbler's rein.

"I have to stop," the hunter motioned at the boy to turn into a narrow patch that weaved between meadows. "I won't let you anywhere near it."

The boy was about to protest - with Raimont gone, it was his job to assist Ravin - his honour and his duty - but there was a difference between dealing with a ghost, even the evilest, and fighting against a wraith. But the very thought of his master facing a monster that could slaughter twenty knights made Jules' stomach tie in a knot. He balled his fists until his knuckles turned white.

But then, the wooden roof emerged from behind the spruces and the boy realised the hunter was leading him to his old house. The spruces disturbed the view till the last moment; only when they reached the front yard Jules saw a house built of wood and stone. Tendrils of ivy snaked up the walls and clambered over the roof of old, wooden tiles. A rocking chair stood on the porch, just by a planter full of weed. A smaller building clung to the house side - a workshop or a stable, Jules though.

"You're strangely quiet," Ravin dismounted Opal and approached his apprentice. He patted Grumbler's neck and motioned at the house. "So? What do you think?"

Jules jumped down from his horse's back. He walked toward the porch, climbed the three creaking steps, a choking feeling filling his chest. How would it feel, after the long five years, to say 'I'm going home' and really mean it? To sleep in the same bed every night, to eat every breakfast in the same kitchen?

For the last five years, ever since he had met Ravin and Rai on the way to the town while pirates ravaged his home village - ever since his mother and little sister had been killed in the attack - they had been on the road, never staying in once place longer than Ravin's job demanded it. Jules had gotten used to that - to meeting people and leaving without knowing them, with no friends and no regrets.