The Raven's Chronicles. Rage of the Wraith

Chapter 28. The Boneswood

Jules observed Ravin covering his forearm with runes that would sharpen his senses and strengthen his body. Uris, Turra and Yww - the three signs standing for sharp senses, clear mind and physical strength. Jules nervously played with his fingers - the choice of runes proved that Ravin was gearing up for a fight.

"Do you think you'll really use it?" the boy asked as the man finished the last line. The hunter's eyes flashed with golden light as the magic of the runes bounded with his own. "But it's only the second time the wraith has fed... It can't be strong already, can it?"

"It's the second time we know about," Ravin straightened his sleeve. Then he walked into the forest and motioned at his apprentice to follow him. "Wraiths are unpredictable. And they are rare, so we don't know much about them. They transform and strengthen their bodies as they feed. It's why a wraith must be destroyed as soon as possible. The longer she exists, the harder it will be to defeat it."

Jules nodded slowly. They didn't mount their horses, but walked arm by arm, leading their steeds up the line of tracks the wraith had left on her way back from the Ackers' farm. An odour of decay mixed with the wild scent of the forest.

The tracks were clearer than Jules wished them to be - a part of him hoped they would find nothing. It was a selfish desire, to go back to Arvene with Ravin and return to the warmth and safety of the castle.

Absentmindedly, the boy reached for his badge and clenched his fists around it. He remembered the evening Ravin had given it to him. "I got if from my master when I was an apprentice myself," Ravin had told him as he put it around Jules' neck and tied the thong tightly. "It means that you belong with me, and with the Hunters' Guild. But it also sets out your duties as an apprentice hunter. Really, child," he remembered the way Ravin looked at him, his eyes filled with care and concern. "I wish you'd chosen a safer profession, but if you are sure about it, I'd rather train you myself."

The badge had given Jules a sense of belonging and safety back then. He used to fall asleep holding it, and his nightmares finally eased. Until now, he hadn't really cared about the "duties" part of its meaning.

Now he reached for his badge. His thoughts wandered back to the children ghosts they had left at the farm. He rubbed his thumb against the carving of the flying raven. He had to accept the truth: no matter how hard they fought, there always were victims. They couldn't save everyone.

The hunters' motto was a lie. Even if they were to fight 'till their last breath' it was still not enough.

He gave his master a sideways glance. The hunter's face remained focused, his eyes following the tracks. Would Ravin fight 'till the last breath' as said the motto carved on the badge?

A stream crossed their way and Ravin halted. Jules stopped by his side. The forest grew darker and denser in front of them; the trees seemed older, their branches more twisted. It emanated the aura of despair and anxiety.

"This part of the forest is called the Boneswood," the hunter answered Jules' unspoken question. "In the past, the local tribes used to make ritual sacrificed to their gods. It was ages ago, but it's said you can still find bones scattered between the trees. Locals believe the forest is cursed."

"You know what? First the Moaning Hills, now the Boneswood... I'm not sure if I like Arvene," Jules grimaced.

"Arvene has its charm, doesn't it?" Ravin stepped into the stream. "Stick close to me."

The air of fear and despair engulfed them the very moment they stepped on the opposite bank. Grumbler whinnied and tucked his muzzle under Jules armpit. The boy petted his mane.