Chapter 14

Raiel sat engrossed in his trance, focusing on the energies flowing through his body. In the last few days, he hadn’t really managed to improve his control over the flow. However, the ease with which he had become able to establish a connection with the substance was very motivating. All he really had to do now, was feel for it, and it would make itself known to him. It wasn’t exactly a visible thing, this substance – at least not yet. If he had to describe the way he perceived it, he would say it was like a feeling in the back of the head. Not unnoticeable at all, yet still giving way to his other thoughts and feelings without causing unnecessary distraction.

Only after a couple of hours did he emerge from the focused state, ready to devour the chocolate cream puff he had set aside earlier. A line of ants worked diligently to transport his pastry to their home in tiny pieces and he looked at the small creatures with curiosity, as they marched in a remarkably ordered fashion. He smiled and broke off a sizeable piece of the snack, setting it down for them to take. He was in a sharing mood. He stuffed the pastry into his gaping maw and bit off more than half in a single bite, chewing with gusto.

Raiel made to eat the last piece, but his ear twitched as a small sound was picked up by his senses. He froze and sat as still as he could manage, listening attentively for a repetition of the sound. He wasn’t sure what it had been, but it sounded strange. Of that he was certain. He sat up properly, scanning the vicinity and looking for a source of the odd noise, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

For a while, no sounds came and Raiel sat back again to finish the last of the pastry, quickly forgetting the disturbance. As he munched on the delicious snack, the noise came again. A sharp crack that echoed through the forest. The sound was barely audible, and only by concentrating on his hearing was Raiel able to discern the general direction of the source. He looked towards it, but the forest was dense and did not allow him to see very far.

He abandoned his plans to study human history under the waving branches of the wooden titan he had come to love sitting by, and instead collected his backpack, slinging it over his back as he stood up. The crack sounded again, same volume. Then it came again, and then a third time. Weird. This was becoming increasingly mysterious – and interesting.

He started in the direction of the noise, slowly, as he listened for the noises. They weren’t rhythmical or regular, but instead echoed through the trees with no distinguishable pattern. Sometimes three cracks would sound out in rapid succession, and other times, minutes would go by without a single crack. A few times Raiel even thought he might have lost the source of the noise or gone in the wrong direction. But every time, it would happen again, like a fish jumping out of the water to catch an insect out of the air. He couldn’t predict it.

He walked for a good twenty minutes, making slight changes to his direction every time he heard the telltale snap. Other sounds had begun to sometimes follow the crack, but it was still difficult to identify the source of either of the sounds. What followed was a bit more prolonged and drawn out. But he knew he was definitely going in the right direction and getting closer, since the sounds were much louder.

The snap tore through the air once more and Raiel stopped. The sound that came in the wake of that crack… he knew what it was now. A woman’s voice. A woman’s cry.

Raiel immediately changed his pace from the leisurely stroll he had maintained so far, and instead adopted one of his old and swift sneaking techniques, where he rolled from his heels, through the outer sole of the foot and unto his toes. Like such, he made his way through the woods, listening carefully for the woman.

Soon, muffled chatter broke the quiet tranquility of the forest, indicating a fair number of people gathered together ahead. As Raiel neared the source, laughter and sobbing became audible, as well.

Up ahead was a narrow trail, clearly uneven and animal-made. The first thing Raiel noticed was the procession of defeated and dirty humans, as they waddled along the path, crude ropes binding their ankles and wrists, making it awkward to move without pulling the person behind or in front off balance. There were people of all ages in the line. Even children and elders. Most of the children were crying openly, and many of the adults sobbed quietly, as well. Five humans made up the vanguard and another three trailed behind in the rear. A few more were spread out across the flanks. They were laughing and joking, but Raiel saw their wary glances into the woods. Most of them kept a hand on the pommel of the sheathed swords on their belts, or the bows slung across their shoulder and arrows in their waist quivers. Maybe they weren’t expecting an ambush, but they certainly looked prepared for one.

Had they captured the bound humans? What for? Raiel laid flat on his stomach in the thick vegetation, patiently waiting for the group to pass him. They were moving away from the school grounds, but the trail didn’t look like it had come from there in the first place. If Raiel had to guess, this was the same story as the one from his history book: A small, rural village raided, the defenseless villagers taken from their homes by force. Could they be outlaws? Humans who supposedly acted however they desired, openly disregarding rules and laws, committing violent crimes and sometimes murder for the sake of money or entertainment.

Raiel knew how painful and frightening it could be to find oneself among hostile people, far from home. A tiny ember of anger ignited in his stomach and he exhaled to calm himself. There would be no use in storming headfirst into the midst of that many armed opponents.

Flat as he lay, they went by without noticing him and carried on with their organized escape. Raiel wondered what they intended to do with the captives. He couldn’t think of a good reason for anyone to go to the trouble of taking that many people along. Maybe they too, would be tortured and killed as an example – just like the events described in the book.

Keeping an eye on the withdrawing group of humans, Raiel stood up, inspecting the trees around him. He quickly climbed the first- and best one he found, scaling the length of the trunk, until he reached what he thought would be a suitable height. The group continued forward at a slow, but steady pace, Raiel following above, jumping silently from branch to branch. A crack rang out, piercing Raiel’s ear painfully.

Below, a little girl who had been walking close to the back of the line shrieked in agony as the length of a whip lashed across her back. The flimsy and dirty dress she wore tore easily under the force of the whip, opening a long, ragged hole in the cloth, revealing an angry, bloody gash from shoulder blade to lower back. Her mother fell to her knees, sobbing with teary eyes, powerless to aid her wounded daughter. As a punishment, the mother received the same treatment, but got three lashes instead of just the one. She too, screamed, falling limply to the ground. Her back bled profusely.

“Oi! Don’t do ‘at so much!” one of the men yelled out with a frown and an annoyed tone. “It’ll only slow us down, if we have to carry ‘em, ya dumbshit! The price’ll drop, too!” The man sighed loudly and kicked a rock into the trees.

The bandit with the whip glared at his packmate with a glint of anger in his eyes, sulking, whip raised for a fourth strike. He lowered his arm and rolled the whip up, fastening it tightly to his belt with a mumble of curses, unable to justify a hostile response when he was clearly in the wrong. He kicked the downed mother, to the dismay of her daughter. The rest of the prisoners looked on without acting against the bandit, teeth clenched in anger, but no hope remaining in their eyes. Bound and weaponless, the weary captives could do nothing against a whole group of bad-tempered and armed outlaws, and they knew it.

The man who had whipped the mother and daughter stopped with a bemused look plastered on his rather ugly face. He crouched down by the mother, who still lay unmoving on the trail. He poked her in the side unceremoniously with a frown, and then put a finger on the side of her neck, holding it there for several seconds. He looked up towards his comrades and called out to them.

“Hey! This one’s dead, guys.” He did his best to hide it, but he was clearly nervous about having killed one of their captives. These goods were valuable and difficult to come by, after all.

“Are you kidding me? Fuck!” one of the guys in the front roared back, clenching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Do you always have to be such a fucking idiot, Geen? That was even one of the pretty ones! The boss’ll kill you when we get back, you know.”

The man called Geen visibly paled at the prospect of facing the wrath of his superior, but refused to reveal the terror he felt to his packmates. “Nuh uh, not if he dun’ know about it.” he declared. “Leave ‘er here, and the boss won’t know the difference.” Geen spoke with an odd dialect that Raiel hadn’t heard before.

The man from the vanguard considered his words for a moment. “Whatever, but it’s your ass if he finds out. I ain’t gonna risk lying if he asks.” He turned and continued the long march, snorting in derision.

Before anyone could react, a male captive bellowed in fury as he began to rain punches down on Geen. Unfortunately, his fists were largely ineffective due to the ropes restricting his movements. A rusty blade pierced the man’s back, one of the rearguards having been quick to come to his comrade’s aid. The bandit shoved the blade even further in, and the victim emitted a wet gurgle as his own blood bubbled in his throat. The bandit pulled his sword out in one forceful pull and the dying man fell on his face, the gleam of life rapidly leaving his tired eyes. The remaining captives sobbed mutedly, but dared not follow the man into a meaningless death.

Having observed the events from above, Raiel saw the ember in his stomach intensify, and the empathy he felt for the mother, daughter, and the dead man fueled his anger towards the outlaws. He wanted to do something about it, but he didn’t want to be recognized. If he didn’t, then who would? The bandits likely had no ties to those powerful nobles, but one couldn’t be too careful, as he had found out. He looked down his own body, searching for a way to ensure his anonymity. His gaze fell on the shirt he wore, a piece of fabric that covered his torso to provide both warmth and this thing called common decency, which humans seemed to value to a great degree.

He pulled the shirt over his head, holding onto a branch to keep his balance. Tying the sleeves around his skull, the shirt fit snugly, covering up his facial features perfectly. Breathing behind the cloth was uncomfortable, but he could endure for a while, if it was for the sake of concealing his identity. With his hands, he adjusted the improvised mask, lining up the collar of the shirt with his eyes, so he could see properly.

The scars covering his body were numerous, with everything from the remnants of small puncture wounds to long, tan marks from claws of beasts and antlers of stags. What he was about to do did not scare him particularly. In a way, it was familiar to him. He had been in battles to the death many times before, and the fact that he sat in this tree right now was proof, that he was also used to prevailing in such situations. It might be a bit trickier this time around, but he also knew he had become both stronger and smarter.

Raiel followed the procession for a while longer, as he tried to assess the best point of engagement. If a captive fell to their knees, slowed too much, or even whispered a bit too loudly, a whip would meet their backs with a crack, followed by an agonized squeal of pain. Most of the captives had at least one or two bloodied lines from the whips across their shoulders, but Raiel guessed that some of those came from the time when they were captured and probably resisted.

The best angle of approach seemed to be the rear, where the immediate group consisted only of two men and a woman, their nearest allies a distance away on the flank. One of the two men was Geen, which only served to tempt Raiel even more. Should the ambush fail, Raiel would like to at least have taken out that disgusting piece of shit before retreating.

Now, all that was left was to wait for the right time to drop from the trees. The anticipation was exhilarating, sending the blood pumping through his veins at explosive speed. The energetic substance within him reacted to his state of mind, powering up his entire body like a stoked fire. Infusion, which was currently a feat of such limited control and power, seemed to flow easily and instinctively when he needed it to.

If he had to be honest, he wasn’t even sure why he was doing what he was about to do. Frankly, he had never consciously fought to save someone like this before. It had always been for the sake of his own survival – wholly and purely. This was unprecedented and yet, he felt like this was something he had to do. He no longer had to only think of himself and his own needs. Food was readily available in the canteen and all he had to do was ask for it. He had an almost excessively comfortable bed in a safe and cozy room. And best of all was the friends he had managed to make. Perhaps, there weren’t too many of them, but that didn’t matter, when they seemed truly genuine.

Yes, he was finally in a position where he could afford to extend a helping hand and care about someone else, willingly providing aid where aid was needed. And this time, at least, he would. It was a gratifying feeling to decide to help others. He smiled. And then it warped into a bestial grin.

As soon as the last man in line passed by below, Raiel leaned forward on the branch he was perched on, letting himself fall until he was at a downwards forty-five-degree angle. He kicked off the branch hard, its leaves swooshing with the abrupt movement. Like an arrow, Raiel rocketed toward his target, who was walking on the path with no knowledge of his imminent death.

Raiel came upon him in deathly silence with both feet on the shoulders of the rearmost man, eliciting a loud crack from the neck, as the man’s torso was forced forward suddenly without his head following along. Raiel pierced the muscle tissue between neck and shoulder on each side with two fingers and pulled upwards, gouging gruesome wounds all the way to his jaw with a wet squelch. The slaver hardly had time to realize what was happening before his vision blackened and his life ended.

The woman in front managed to turn around in curiosity before her throat was slashed violently by four elongated, claw-like nails, her eyes going wide in shock. She attempted to scream in fear and surprise as she clutched at the bleeding and bubbling wound, but not a sound came out. She collapsed to her knees, blood and strength rapidly leaving her. Raiel had learned, that the longer one could keep the element of surprise, the better, and was already dashing for the third bandit in line – that bastard Geen.

When the woman turned to see what was going on, so had Geen turned. He’d seen the sudden and ugly death of his packmate and was sounding the alarm.

“Wha- what the fuck?” he exhaled in horror. “Ambush. Ambush! He fuckin’ killed Alin and Myre! Hey! There’s an attack!” Geen was rapidly shuffling backwards, fumbling at his belt, trying desperately to unsheathe his sword. He was screeching like a crazed maniac and his round, panicked eyes clearly showed what side of an unfair battle that coward was used to be on. When Geen finally managed to pull his sword free of his belt sheath with a metallic wheeze, Raiel could hear the commotion of a warband reacting to a threat. From all directions came the sounds of swords being drawn and commanding voices calling for order.

The procession erupted into a panic at the sight of the grisly scene of gore, women, men, and children all screaming. Geen, yelling incoherently, waved his sword in front of him in an ungainly display of his lack of skill. Raiel exploded forward, ducking low under Geen’s awkward swing as he twisted his torso and thrust his hand up under the hateful bandit’s ribcage with enough force to penetrate as deep as Raiel’s elbow. The man coughed weakly twice, blood spattering onto Raiel’s face. The boy ripped his arm out, leaving the slaver to die in a pool of his own blood and organs. He’d sent the previous two bandits to a quick death, but Geen had deserved a slower one. Long enough to feel the life seeping from his bones.

With but a glance at the preparing force in front of him, he spun on his heel and dashed into the dense foliage. He knew when to retreat and find a new and unexpected angle of attack. That time was now. He would let the slavers simmer in their own nervousness before going in for the second ambush. There was no reason, that Raiel could think of, to stand alone against a horde of warriors when he had the speed and ability to appear and disappear so quickly in a fight.

As he darted into the vegetation, Raiel heard the bandits’ furious cries, calling for death. If only they knew, that the death would be their own.