The Raven's Chronicles. Rage of the Wraith

Chapter 27. Feast on the farm

They had set our right after collecting the pears, picking up Captain Rogre and Grumbler on their way. Even the moody horse sensed the fraught atmosphere around them and hadn't protested when Jules saddled him hurriedly.

They had been riding until the darkest night hours, then took a short stop to wait for the sun to rise. Once the sky turned red-gold on the east and the dense darkness of the forest yielded to the light, they had mounted their steeds left their makeshift camp.

It had been early morning when they found the leshy's jointed body. The majestic creature had been rotting on blood-soaked grass, his flesh torn and ripped off, devoured. Broken bones had propounded from the wounds, pointing into the grey sky.

They barely reached the castle when guardsmen brought news of a beast attack.

"Sir, a murder!" he breathed heavily as ran across the yard to assist Rogre as he dismounted. "Bodies found... The whole family... The Ackers. They are all dead. Sir Lenster's people found them."

"Dead? All of them?" The Captain gave the hunter a meaningful look.

"They are massacred, all of them!" the servant's hand on the mare's bridle shook as he spoke. "As if by wild animals... But there were only human tracks. Someone, something came from the forest..."

Ravin tossed his saddleback onto the ground and turned back toward the gate. Opal sped into a trot despite his hard night's riding.

"Sorry, buddy," Jules patted Grumbler's side. To his surprise, the grumpy horse neighed and lumbered after Opal. He gained speed slowly, but eventually, they caught up with the hunter and his black stallion.

"You could have stayed," Ravin reined in his horse. "Still, I guess it'll be easier to track the wraith with you. Only you could perceive Melissa's ghost after all."

The Ackers were said to be one of the first families that had settled down in Arvene, and Ravin remembered the way to their house well. Their farm was the northernmost one in the fief, and the one closest to the woods - it was probably the only reason why the wraith had chosen them. She'd been gaining strength after feeding on the leshy - as Ravin assumed - and still avoided confrontation. A single man living with a bunch of little children alone on the outskirts of the village was a perfect prey.

Jules saw the farm from a hilltop: a small poor hut with a thatched roof and a cranky barn. Dozens of ravens perched on the roofs and the branches of an old apple tree. Behind the farm, the forest was encroaching old pasture lands.

"I can already sense it," Jules hunched in the saddle as a cold wind lashed his face. It blew from the woods. Only those blessed with the Sixth Sense could feel the unnatural chill it carried. It was like a breath from the spirit world, itching and acrid, and it carried the odour of death, rottenness, fear, and despair.

Ravin reined in Opal and turned toward his apprentice. His face grew tense and his eyes took on a cold seriousness. Jules knew that expression; whatever Ravin would say now, he was to be obeyed.

"Listen, Jules. Wraiths dig burrows where they transform and hide from the daylight. If we can find it, I could end it all before anyone else dies," the hunter said, his eyes never leaving the boy's face, not even blinking. "I need your help to track the wraith. But if I fight it, you mount Opal and ride away as fast as he can carry you. Do you understand me?"

"But Ravin, Rai's not here to assist you, so..." Jules hesitated. "I want to help you. No matter what. I gave Rosalie my word..."

"Jules," Ravin interrupted him sternly. "You should never promise anything to the dead!"