When they sat down to eat lunch the next day on the side of the road, Corwal looked at Arawn. "Why haven't I seen you training today?"
"What does it matter? It's going to happen again anyway," Arawn answered after chewing on a piece of jerky.
The idea of touching ether again repulsed him. It was a murderer's tool, and he was so very tired of being one. At least while not holding it he could pretend he was better than that.
"And you think it's gonna get better if you don't try? Control isn't something that comes to you just because you wish for it hard enough. You have to train and train, maybe for the rest of your life. Even if it serves to stop only one extra massacre, don't you think it would be worth it?"
Arawn found himself unable to deny the man's words. Every life saved would be a life allowed to grow and blossom. Even if his constant practice could save only one person, wouldn't it already be a lot? Each innocent life was sacred.
He looked at the ether surrounding him. It was still white, still pure. Unlike swords and daggers, it never got dyed red. It was the perfect deceiver.
The white particles rushed to him like a stream the moment he called upon them. They coated his fingers and arm like a glove. It took a moment for Arawn to remember his practice, and he halted the ether. The time it spent still was minimal, but Corwal let out a sound of surprise.
"When did you learn that?"
"Right before I was stabbed in the back," Arawn answered in an off-hand manner. He was still staring at the ether he'd released, trying not to imagine how it would feel to send it at everyone around him. Had he been grinning? Laughing maniacally?
Corwal's eyes flew to his face. "What do you mean stabbed in the back? Someone betrayed the caravan?"
"That person Dres who stayed around me. When the attack started, he siddled near me and plunged his dagger straight into my heart from the back." Arawn shook his head. "If he knew wh—"
"What do you mean plunged a dagger in your back? Aren't you fine?"
Standing up, Corwal strode behind Arawn and looked at the torn and slightly bloodied coat. While traveling, Arawn had carried a travel bag on his back, so it had covered the damage, but there was no mistaking it now. Although he'd changed his other clothes, he'd kept the old coat.
"But you don't look like you were stabbed. Not at all. How could you even be alive if you got stabbed in the back?"
There was disbelief in his voice, and Arawn found himself recalling certain events from his youth. "Do you remember when you pointed out that I don't have scars and I said that no one dares to come close to me? I lied.
"I've been… killed—" a corner of his lips curled up in self-mockery at that word—" at least a dozen times. Each attack had been fatal, but just like Dres, those people didn't know that they were taunting the devil himself. I can't die. And when anyone tries to test it, the monster inside me gets angry. It then wipes out both friend and foe."
"That's…"
Something flashed in Corwal's eyes, something that Arawn had seen many times before. "Are you finally scared? You freed a monstrous being."
With a shake of his head, Corwal denied the accusation. He looked at Arawn's back for a moment more, then returned to his seat. "Just surprised. You're not a lost cause. Even if you say the monster-you kills indiscriminately, it didn't touch me. I got growled at, but I think I'll live."
Out of the two of them, Arawn didn't know which one was more crazy. Why did Corwal refuse to accept reality? Some people were just born as monsters and demons. There was no helping them.
Once they ate and returned to walking, they fell into a comfortable silence. Arawn forced himself to work with the murderous ether while Corwal got lost in his thoughts.
By the time the evening rolled around, they had yet to reach any settlement and had to make their camp in the wilderness once more. They had little besides the blankets and some food, so it was quick work.
"Will you ever tell me your story?" Corwal asked when they were about to go to sleep.
Arawn shuddered. The idea had never crossed his mind, and now that it did, he shooed it away as far away as possible. His life was a horror story. He didn't want to think about it himself, let alone share it with others.
There were no open wounds on his body, but it wasn't the same for his soul. It was a ragged thing, barely holding itself together. Blood and puss still trickled out of the many wounds on daily basis. It was harder to find an intact stretch of skin rather than one with a scar or a still bleeding wound.
"Once you tell me yours."
"Don't you know almost everything already? I've never hid from you that I'm a hound and what's my mission."
It was not a lie, but a twisting of the truth. Arawn didn't blame Corwal for that though. After all, he himself didn't feel like sharing his past either. "And I haven't hid that I'm a criminal and a monster, did I?"
Corwal narrowed his eyes, then rolled them and dropped the subject. They went to sleep and woke up the next morning to continue on their journey.
Once they got closer to the border, Arawn expected to see something new, something different, but there was only the same old trees around him. They stood on both sides of the road like guardians, watching over everyone passing from high above.
With the start of summer, the sun was out all the time. It didn't bother Arawn at first, but at midday, he wanted to kick it out of the sky. Was it necessary to attempt to burn them alive? Sweat rolled down his face and back in slow rivers.
Sometimes they stopped to take a small break when the sun reached its zenith, but only once every couple days. Corwal was in a hurry, and he didn't care if they had to face some discomfort because of that.
It took them a whole week to reach the border city. There had been a couple towns on the way, but they were too close to where the caravan had been attacked. If they were unlucky, they could have been grabbed for questioning there, and it would have taken a lot of their precious time away.
"I have to go somewhere by myself now," Corwal said upon checking them into an inn. "I need to take a look at something."
Arawn nodded and went up to their room. He dropped onto the better of the two beds and basked in the strange sensation of lying on a bed. It was too soft yet strangely comforting.
All he wanted was to fall asleep for a week and not have to get up.
Just as he thought that, there was a knock on the door. With a sigh, Arawn went to open it and saw a twelve year old boy standing there. He was dressed in dirty clothes full of holes, but there was a bright smile on his face.
"Your friend told me to lead you to a bathhouse!"
"My friend?"
The boy bobbed his head. "Yes! Tall man with a sword and dark brown hair."
That sounded like Corwal, so Arawn locked the room behind himself and left the inn. He wasn't too bothered by his smell, but he had learned that people of higher status frowned upon it. They were said to shower at least every two days.
It sounded like a great waste of water for Arawn, but who was he to judge. He went to the bathhouse, and the boy paid for him. Corwal had probably given him the money, but it still bothered Arawn a bit. Was he that useless?
All such thoughts disappeared when he was led into the public bathhouse. Heat was the first thing he noticed. It washed over him like a tidal wave and left him barely able to breathe. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck after two steps inside.
There was a servant which collected and washed the clothes while the men bathed near the entrance to the next room, and Arawn dressed down. He didn't want to let the clothes out of his sight in case they were never returned, but that did not seem to be an option.
He took in a deep breath and placed them before the servant who smiled and thanked him. Arawn then turned to the door before him. It wasn't large and pretty thin. He could already hear boisterous voices coming from behind it.
Once he opened the door, steam surged over him, burning his skin. He closed the door and went to the large bath. There were already a good dozen people inside, but there was still plenty of space.
As he lowered himself into the water, warmth surrounded him, relaxing his tired muscles. The water reached a bit above his waist, but he crouched down a little so only his head was above the surface.
At that moment, he noticed a fragrance in the air. It was very faint, but it reminded him of flowers and something else. Maybe some fruit?
"Can't do that," someone said in a loud voice nearby. "I'm taking a break for the next couple months from dealing with Mairyans. There's been too many attacks for the route to be profitable."
"You can't be serious! It's the deal of a century! Are you sure you want to miss it just because a few beasts were sighted in the area? They've always been a hazard."
The word beast attracted Arawn's attention, and he looked to his left. Steam got in the way, but he could see two figures leaning against the edge of the bath. The two men were rosy-cheeked, but otherwise having nothing in common.
The closer one was short and thin. His movements were rushed and jagged while his speech swift. His companion was middle-aged and with a mighty moustache. He was built like a working man with wide shoulders and thick arms, but it didn't seem like he worked tilling the fields.
He was the one who was talking about taking a break. "Deal of the century? Tren, do you think I was born yesterday? You should at least try."
"Fine, fine." The thin man laughed. "Still, it's a really good deal, and I need a couple more people to help me carry all the goods at once. We'd get rich in one go."
"We are rich," the strong man said. He smiled and lowered himself into the water. "And we've been for years. I don't see why I should risk my fortune to get a few more coins into my pockets."
The thin man frowned, but didn't say anything more on it. "Are you really that worried about the beasts? There's been more of them lately, but I don't think it should encumber the trade."
"There's been twenty turnings in the border area alone in the past five months, and you tell me it's not much? Before this, we'd get one turning a year in the whole country, or not even that. Something is happening here, Tren, I'm telling you, and I don't like it. Until the area calms, I'll be trading with Tarhun and that's it."
The two men soon began talking about good trade routes in Tarhun, and Arawn stopped listening to them. He swiftly washed himself with soap placed in small baskets around the bath and left. After listening to the gossip, all his interest in relaxing had evaporated.
The freshly cleaned clothes smelled nice, and he came to understand why everyone enjoyed their baths so much. It was a calming experience.
Yet the news he'd heard were disturbing. Why were the people suddenly turning into beasts in this area? He wasn't conceited enough to think it was because of his escape, but it couldn't be natural.
And the whole thing pained him. There was no doubt that everyone who turned was killed on the spot, even if their actions had not been of their free will. Logically, it made sense to destroy the creatures who were so powerful, but he couldn't help pitying them.
They reminded him too much of himself. Once pushed too far, they would change and lash out. The only difference was that he couldn't be killed, not unless someone stronger than him showed up to defeat him.
When he returned to the inn, Corwal was already there. He ordered them lunch and found a corner table to sit. "Feel a little better?"
"Yeah, but I've heard some rumors about the beasts."
Corwal listened to what he'd heard with concentration, his expression hardening with every word. "Decline in trade with Mairya won't affect us much, but Mairya will be furious. They don't have any other trade partners bordering them, and it would take a long time to establish new sea routes."
"What does that mean?"
"That someone actually wants war between the two countries."