123 Bandits

The abandoned fields were not a hard terrain to pass through, and Arawn found himself nodding off. The excitement of finally having a plan and going to see Rain soon waned, leaving him worried and exhausted.

There were many things that could go wrong, and he had no idea how to prevent any of them. His only proficiency lay in ether, so he focused on it to distract himself.

He called and pushed the white particles away; he held them in his grasp, ready to launch an attack; he asked Mutallu to create balls of fire and tried to snatch the ether from them. The last exercise was the hardest, and he often failed, but four hours into it, he found the crux of the problem.

It wasn't willpower or anything of the like. Ether was not conscious and could not judge who to serve on its own. Instead, it was attracted by something within a person, and Arawn had a lot more of it than other people.

So as long as he made a command, the ether would come. The reason why he had never managed it before was that he simply never tried it. He was told it was impossible and believed it.

"You're growing scarier by the hour."

Mutallu watched as the ether from his screen of fire streamed to Arawn's hand and winked out of life with a dark look. He motioned with his hand to send a fireball in Arawn's direction, but it fizzled away a few centimeters from his palm.

A soft curse left his lips, and white ether jumped toward his raised hands. His face twisted with the strain of controlling it, but he didn't let go.

Arawn understood what was going to happen moments before he woud be hit by a blast of ether. He instinctively raised his hands in a protective manner and willed the ether to come to him.

It took a fraction of a second to come under his command, but it was too long. The blast was right in front of Arawn. He braced for impact, ready to be blown off his horse, but nothing happened.

Blinking rapidly, he looked over at Mutallu, who was grinning now. "Got you!"

"Right…" Arawn muttered while trying to calm his beating heart.

They had been training for some time while riding, but not once had Mutallu come close to hitting him. The ether had never been his strong suit, and it easily left him to come to Arawn's aid.

They rode in silence for a moment, and Arawn thought of what had happened. He had been certain that he mastered the skill of stealing the enemy's ether for his own, but then Mutallu almost struck him down. Didn't that mean that all his practice was for naught?

"Think of how to counter that," Mutallu said after some time. "Then remember that the enemy is not a puppet. Be ready for the unexpected. Never believe that you have prepared contingencies for everything that can happen."

Arawn glanced at him, finding his words and his previous action strangely familiar. He was about to name it when Mutallu spoke up again.

"Corwal always taught me that no defensive method is perfect and that every power has its weakness. That is why I always have to be learning and mastering new things."

His voice was a little wistful, and Arawn found himself seeing Corwal in his place and hearing the speech in his voice. The hound had never missed a minute to teach others and help them improve, even if they were total strangers, let alone his companions.

In a corner of his heart that even he didn't want to acknowledge, Arawn missed him. Everything had been simpler and brighter when he was around. His wealth of knowledge was neverending, and he had the ability to turn the odds ever in his favor.

'Until he couldn't…'

Arawn shook his head and nodded to Mutallu. The assassin had tired himself out with the last attack, so Arawn worked with the ether on his own.

When evening came, they reached a road leading northwest. The horses increased their speed on the hard ground, and they continued riding deep into the night.

A caravan of three wagons passed them at midnight. The drivers could hardly see anything, but they were urging their horses to gallop as fast as possible. None of them paid any attention to the two riders.

Arawn sent Mutallu a questioning look, but the assassin knew as much as him. He shrugged and they continued riding.

Not an hour later, they saw three riders gallop past them. After that, it was a family on a battered wagon. At last, there was a large group of people with mules covered in packs to the point the animals could barely be seen.

"What's happening?" Arawn asked after slowing down by their side.

Many people glanced at him, but only one man deigned to answer him. "The army," he said like it was a curse and spit on the ground.

"The army? Has it come this far?"

For a moment, the man stared at Arawn like he was speaking a foreign language, then he started cackling. "You little fool. It's OUR army."

He began laughing so hard that he could not speak anymore, and a woman by his side spoke up. "They're drafting everyone for battle: young and old, male and female," she said in a voice without any emotion. "Even children. And they send them as scouts."

A few women began to cry, and sobs filled the dark night. No one spoke again, and Arawn did not ask anything. He had a strong feeling he did not want to know what other atrocities were happening in the nearby city.

"Let's go," Mutallu said once they were alone again. "We cannot help them."

"But…" Arawn looked back, unable to just leave the people to their suffering. The band had left them, but his night vision allowed him to see the sorry figure it cut in the distance. "This is not right."

Mutallu grabbed his reins and pulled him in the direction of the city. "As are many things. This lord may be more cruel than others, but nothing will change until we stop this war. Only then would things like cleaning up the corrupt and cruel nobility will be a possibility."

It was a hard truth to swallow, but Arawn nodded. He closed his eyes and swore to himself that once King Bret was deposed, he would ensure that Mairya got a just and kind ruler as well.

They made camp a few kilometers from the city and the next day went around it. There were numerous patrolling soldiers around, but most of them were normal citizens or villagers from surrounding areas and they did not bother with two young men riding about. A few times they did stop them, Arawn gave a few ether warning shots, and they were free once more.

The next four days passed in a similar fashion, and Arawn got into the habit of coalescing ether the moment anyone approached them. It was the fastest way to ensure that no one bothered them and they did not have to waste time fighting or explaining themselves.

When on the fifth day a group of armed men jumped out of the woods, he didn't even think twice before bringing a curtain of light into existence before the would-be attackers. It would blind them as well as scare them, so he continued on riding without paying them much attention.

An arrow whisked past his ear, missing him only by a hair's breadth.

His breath hitched, and he whirled on the armed men. While the ones a few meters from him were stumbling about with covered eyes, a group of archers stood on a raise behind them. They were led by a man with a goatee who was taking out another arrow from his quiver.

"Leave the horses and we'll let you leave in peace," he shouted out in a voice that carried through the distance.

Arawn glanced down at his horse, which had become a close associate of his throughout the journey, then raised his head back up to frown at the bandit leader. Although a fight was not something he desired, he could not just give up on his mount and companion.

"Go back, and I'll let you live," he shouted back. "If we fight, none of you will survive to tell the tale."

To punctuate his words, he raised his hands and called ether to them. It shone with white brilliance that was as pure as it was deadly.

The bandit leader's expression hardened at the sight of his magic, but he still raised his hand to give the signal to fire. Eight arrows let loose and flew straight at Arawn.

He sent an ether blade and cut them all apart before coalescing another toward the bandit leader, who suddenly looked sick. The man jumped forward and rolled on the ground to avoid the strike.

His archers weren't fast enough to react, and the blade struck the ground at their feet. It cleaved a meter long ditch and raised loose earth into the air.

Two of the archers screamed and dropped their bows. They turned tail and ran away like the devil himself was behind them.

The others remained standing, but their faces were white as a sheet and they stared wide-eyed at Arawn, who had prepared another two strikes but had yet to unleash them.

"Leave!" he ordered.

The men glanced at their leader, who nodded in resignation. He picked himself from the ground and sent Arawn a complicated look. He wasn't sure how to take it, but didn't let go of the ether. If anyone so much as grabbed their weapon tighter, he would shower them in death.

The swordsmen who had been blinded at the start regained their sight by then and looked around in confusion. Most turned to go with their leader, but one of them stared at Arawn with narrowed eyes.

"You…" he murmured. "I think I've seen you before."

"Seen me?" Arawn asked.

The man was in his late forties and wore brownish green breeches and a jacket. His face was shadowed beneath a cap, but Arawn could tell that it was unfamiliar. He could swear that he had never seen the person before.

"Fighting with ether… Wait, are you not the kid who fought in the Challenge? It's you! It has to be you! No one else is that crazy!"

'Challenge?'

The word struck a memory, and Arawn remembered the duels he fought in Rain's name. They were his first battles and the first time anyone saw his abilities with the ether.

He jumped off the horse and jogged to the man. The bandit was still unfamiliar, but hope blossomed in Arawn's heart.

"Do you know where I can find Rain?"