Caracara's Hunt 120 Val's Doubts

No one spoke a word while leaving the city. They just rushed their horses, urging them to gallop faster through the empty streets. The guards at the gate weren't sure whether they should let them pa.s.s or not, so Mutallu sent b.a.l.l.s of fire their way. It made them come to a quick decision and the group left without any problems.

Once out of the city, Mutallu motioned to slow down. The horses were starting to get tired, and there was still a long journey ahead of them. It was better to settle into a comfortable trot.

Val moved his horse beside Arawn. "Why are you here?" He spoke quietly, but everyone turned their heads to hear the answer.

"I heard you were in a pinch." Arawn shrugged, finding the attention uncomfortable. "I didn't go through the trouble of helping you back then just so you could get executed in your own country."

A strained smile stretched across Val's face. "It wasn't what I had in mind either." His mirth disappeared quickly though, and he turned serious. "Why are you in Mairya? It's too dangerous right now."

Arawn rode in silence for a moment. "After we separated, I was forced to run and hide to avoid pursuit. Mairya was my best bet to escape detection."

"Didn't you just give away your name?"

"I…"

Arawn looked away. He wasn't too proud about that moment and would rather forget it. Yet as stupid as his action had been, it meant nothing. The act of controlling enough ether to light up the whole square was enough to clue anyone who knew him onto who had saved the prisoners.

They rode till evening and made camp in the woods, away from the main road. Val's family went on their knees to thank Arawn and called him their benefactor, which he found a hard time accepting.

Guilt nibbled at his insides. If not because of Val, he would have never gone to aid them. They were strangers to him, and while he would have helped them if they were right in front of him, he would have never rushed such a long distance to do it.

They were praising a man that he was not.

"Please get up!" he begged them and helped the old woman up. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she clutched onto his hand with great strength.

"Thank you, thank you so much for saving us! Our family will forever be in your debt! We couldn't repay you for bringing Humaya back to us, and now you helped us again! We—"

"It's nothing," Arawn said with a strained expression. He pulled the woman up and freed himself with a little more force than it was necessary. "You don't owe me anything. I helped Val because he's a friend and because I have a debt to pay him of my own."

His words confused the woman, and she narrowed her eyes at him. Before she could question him, however, he struck a hasty retreat.

"I need to check the perimeter. We don't know what animals may be lurking in these woods."

He was gone before even finishing his words. There was no sign of predators in the area, but he dutifully went to patrol around their camp to make sure of that. He didn't return until the old woman had gone to sleep with her daughter.

Sylvester met him with a mocking smile when he returned. Arawn ignored it and sat down on the ground. They didn't light a fire to avoid any soldiers that might have been sent after them, but Sylvester had loaded the horses with proper gear in advance, so they had warm blankets to keep them warm in the cold night and did not have to suffer through the cold wind.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I'd like to ask: Where are you taking us?"

The person who spoke had a thick, unwashed beard, and his eyes were almost invisible in his gaunt face. It took Arawn a long moment to recognize him as Keith, the oldest son of the Katalans.

"We… didn't plan that far," Arawn admitted. "My priority was to get you out of the prison and away from the city."

The oversight surprised no one, and Sylvester yawned a few meters away. "You only know one n.o.ble in Mairya. I really wonder who you could ask for help in this troublesome situation."

"You think Bernard would help?"

For some reason, Arawn really doubted it. The lord had seemed kind enough, but housing a family of traitors to the country was more than just a small favor. Even if Sylvester abandoned his pride and begged for it—which was never going to happen—it was unlikely to succeed.

"That old fool? Never. Someone else in that house, however, owes you their life."

Sylvester's words sparked a memory in Arawn's mind, and he realized that he did help Irene. In a way. He had stopped Lord Bernard from taking away Sylvester, who was the only one who could bring Lorick back from death's door.

The siblings may have been of different importance to the father, but they had a close relationship. Irene had even fallen on her knees to beg Sylvester to save him.

"Lord Bernard is not our ally," Keith said with a scowl. "He never liked how our father worked in Ayersbert and called him a traitor to our values. Our families have never seen eye to eye."

Sylvester waved him away. "Have you ever met Miss Bernard? Saints aren't as generous and accepting as she. If you tell her your tale, she'll cry with you and set you up in a manor more comfortable than your own."

There was acidity in Sylvester's voice, which made Arawn take a look at him. The doctor's expression was relaxed, but his eyes were cold. A few sparks of ether were jumping between his fingers in a set pattern.

"You don't approve of it?" Arawn asked carefully. He wasn't sure if he had gotten it right.

The doctor scoffed. "What do her actions have to do with me?"

Arawn did not believe him, but it was clear that Sylvester did not want to talk more about it, so he turned away from him. "Let's go there then. If we push the horses, it won't take us long."

Keith furrowed his brow. He looked around the area, then sighed and found himself a more comfortable patch of gra.s.s. There were no more arguments coming from him.

It was a late hour, and Arawn thought to go to sleep when he saw Val standing a short distance away. The man looked pensive, like he wanted to say something but was not sure if it was okay.

Arawn stood up and went to his side. "Something wrong?"

Val glanced at the camp before shaking his head. "What happened after I left? Did you see Corwal? Who is Sylvester? And that Mutallu, I thought you two didn't get along?" Val hesitated a moment, then added, "How do you know Lord Bernard? I thought you weren't from around here."

"This…" Arawn scratched his head and looked down at the ground. "It's a long story."

Arawn wondered if he could bury the memory of it to never be found again. The beast him had lost its mind and become an animal, while the true him had become a nuisance and brought trouble for everyone with his unruly actions.

"Can I hear it?" Val's voice was soft, barely above a whisper. He sounded worried that he would be refused, but could not resist asking about it anyway. "I know I don't have the right but…"

"Why not?" Arawn looked up at him in surprise.

While Val stood stunned, Arawn took a couple more steps away from the camp, so his voice wouldn't wake anyone up, and sat down on the roots of a large tree. "Come! I'll speak first, and then you'll tell me what happened to you."

Val nodded in a daze and sat down next to him with stiff movements. His actions puzzled Arawn, but he attributed it to his own lack of understanding and launched into his tale. Without any embellishment or exaggeration, he described the fight with the king's guards, how he saved Mutallu, and then ran away.

His memory vanished soon after that, so he skipped those events and spoke about how he woke up, met Sylvester, took a trip to Lord Bernard's, and what happened afterwards. The whole story was more of a recollection of events rather than a proper story, but Val was still left slack-jawed.

"I thought you said you came to help me because you were in the area…" he murmured after hearing how Mutallu and Sylvester had planned everything out.

"Well…" Arawn scratched his temple. "Something like that. Now your turn! How did you end up captured?"

At the mention of that, Val's face darkened. He pressed his lips together and glared at his feet for a moment. When he spoke up, his voice was low and harsh.

"I got careless. I didn't consider what being labeled traitor truly meant. Right after I crossed the border with Humaya, we were accosted by a patrol team who sent us straight into the dungeons. We stayed there for a week before soldiers from Nairyãm came to escort us.

"They chained us like animals and didn't give us anything to eat for the whole journey." His hand clenched around a few stalks of gra.s.s and he pulled them out of the ground with force. His eyes roamed over them for a moment, then he threw them away and exhaled heavily.

"It was h.e.l.l. I thought we were going to starve to death. Luckily, it rained on the second day. The carriage's roof was full of holes, so we could raise our heads and drink to our content.

"When we came to the capital, we were sent before the king and had a trial." Val laughed without any humor in his voice. "It was the biggest joke I've seen. We were thrown before his majesty like potato sacks, our hands and feet bound and our mouths gagged. As one may expect then, we were found guilty of high treason and sentenced to death by hanging."

Arawn raised his hand, then lowered it, then raised it again and put it on Val's shoulder. He squeezed it lightly. "Your family is safe now," he promised. "You won't have to go through that ever again."

Val glanced at him, then looked away with his eyes glistening in the light of the moon. "I failed my family. If not for you, we would all be dead. I'm not only a cripple, but also a fool who almost got his family killed."

His voice was raw with emotion, and Arawn shuddered for a reason he could not name. The concept of family wasn't one he understood, but he was well aware of the sense of failing those around him.

"Do you blame me for the loss of your arm?" he asked softly.

"What?" Val looked up at him in confusion. "No! I went to fight that beast myself. You had nothing to do with it."

Arawn nodded. "Yes, but if not for me, Corwal would have helped you and you would still have your arm." He pushed himself up and stood up. After taking two steps forward, he turned around and looked at Val. "You don't blame me, so why do you blame yourself?

"Isn't your situation similar? If not for the scheming of King Bretan, would you have ever been in such a position? I thought I was doing good by helping to fight the beast, and you thought you were right in going back home. Neither of us knew that it was a trap.

"We're at fault for being naive and trusting people who did not deserve it, but that does not say that what we did was wrong. We just have to get smarter and learn how to judge people better."

Arawn paused to take in a breath. "Even if you don't blame me, I blame myself for what happened, but I'm going to pay you back in any way I can. Your enemies are my enemies and your family the people I must protect. That's my way of atonement.

"I know it's not gonna return you your arm, but it's the next best thing I can do. And you should do the same. You can sit here and hate yourself, or you can go to your family and ensure that they never get hurt again. What do you think they'd like more?"

An owl hooted somewhere in the distance. Arawn tilted his head to listen, but his eyes did not move from Val. The man had covered his face with his left hand and did not raise it.

"I never thought I'd hear a motivational speech from you…" he muttered in a thick voice. "I wasn't prepared."

Arawn plopped down on the ground in his previous spot and grinned. Although he still had no idea how to solve his life, something had become clear in his mind. It wasn't in his blood to be a bystander. A quiet life in the middle of nowhere did not suit him.

He clasped his hands before his chest in a manner similar to praying, but he did not beg any G.o.d or G.o.ddess to hear his wish. He only hoped that his newly born dream for the future would not die in its infancy.

There was a king with a whole country's army in the way, but Arawn did not let it dampen his spirits. While talking to Val, he had realized his purpose in life, and he was going to hold onto it with an iron grip.

He would have to fight many battles and learn a lot more about the world to not be taken advantage of, but he had friends and companions for it. With their a.s.sistance, he was sure to succeed in the end.

There was nothing in the world he could not do if he believed in himself and the people standing by his side.