The Dragon Hunter and the Mage (11 page)

The four of them got out of there, treading fast. Hagon looked everywhere, checking inside every cell until they reached the end of the cell block. All of the cells were empty. Hagon stopped.

“Wait. Where are the others? Eirin, Lerica, and Tarnig?” he asked.

“This was the first block we searched,” Aric said. “The sewage exit is right around the corner, to the left.”

There was a moment of silence. Hagon’s eyes wandered, indecisive.

“We have to go,” Fadan begged.

Hagon looked at Doric as if his soul was bleeding. He had to save his friends.

“I can’t stay here,” Doric explained, indicating Aric.

“I understand, but I can’t leave my people here to die.”

Doric swallowed through a dry throat, then placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t do it. It’s not cowardice when the alternative is suicide.”

“Someone’s coming,” Fadan whispered. “A guard.”

The four of them shrank against the wall simultaneously. Around the corner, a shadow stretched, and someone coughed.

“Doric,” Hagon called in a low whisper. “Good luck.”

Without saying anything else, Cassia’s cousin broke into a run and turned the corner. They heard the sound of Hagon tackling the guard, who immediately started screaming. Doric peeked around the corner and saw Hagon picking himself up and running away until he disappeared into another corridor. The guard chased after him, yelling an alarm.

“It’s clear,” Doric said.

The three of them turned the corner and Fadan led them to the sewage exit. They opened the trap door and jumped down. Once on the other side, Aric removed a metal block from his pocket, placed it against the door’s wood, and dragged it to the left. From the other side came the sound of the metal lock sliding back into place.

Doric was deeply impressed with that. “Wow!”

“I told you.” Aric smiled. “I have lessons about everything.”

They strode through the sewer tunnel until they reached a rusty railing, and once on the other side, Fadan and Aric placed two iron bars back in the railing. Then, they walked a few more paces until they reached a steep, narrow ladder, on top of which was the metal cover of a manhole. Doric climbed up first and held the cover open so the two brothers could go through it.

They had done it. It was unbelievable, but they had. Around them, the empty Palaces of the outer Citadel stood quietly in the shadows.

Doric let himself fall onto his back panting as Fadan dusted his jacket off.

“We have to get your father down to the river,” the Prince said. “It’s possible they’ll shut the city walls as soon as they figure he’s missing.”

Fadan received no answer.

“Aric…?”

His brother was studying the darkness with narrowed eyes.

“What is it?” Fadan asked.

Aric spun around, grabbing Fadan’s collar. He opened the manhole cover and threw him in. As he slammed the cover shut again, two dozen Legionaries emerged from the darkness, forming a circle around them, their spears at the ready.

Chapter 5

Tarsus paced along his office with his eyes on the floor.

“I can’t just kill him,” he said, walking by his desk for the third time. “Cassia already thinks me a monster. What would she say if I did that?”

“And your majesty wishes
my
advice?” Intila asked. “Why not Vigild’s?”

“Vigild is an efficient man, no doubt,” Tarsus said, “but, in this case, I need someone a bit more… humane.”

The Marshal nodded an agreement. “Lock the boy in a dungeon for a couple of months, in the dark, on bread and water. Then confine him to his bedroom for another couple of months. He will learn his lesson.”

The Emperor looked as if he was about to vomit. “Never! What is wrong with you, Marshal? Are you getting soft?”

“He’s just a child. He tried to help his father, nothing more.” He paused. “If your majesty were caught by an enemy, Fadan would certainly not rest until you were freed.”

Tarsus gave Intila an intense look. His mouth moved to say something, but nothing came out. His eyes flickered and he turned away from Intila. “Ah, of course…” he finally said. “It’s because he’s Faric’s grandson. The mighty Faric Auron. The dead can’t collect debts, Marshal.”

“I owe Faric nothing, your majesty. Nor his family.”

Tarsus did not look the least bit convinced. He walked to his window. From there, Augusta always looked serene. “The boy cannot stay in the Citadel,” he said. “Or Augusta.”

Intila could almost see the thoughts taking shape inside the Emperor’s mind. He stepped closer, cautiously. “Very well,” he said. “Some form of exile then. There are loyal nobles that could take Aric as their ward. They would maintain the boy under a watchful eye.”

Tarsus shook his head, his obsessive stare locked on some point down in the city. “No… that’s not enough. It is a punishment, after all.”

“Out of the Empire, then,” Intila suggested. “We can choose an Aletine Tribune, for example. Any one of them would consider it an honor.”

“I’m not sending him on a nice vacation abroad, Marshal,” Tarsus replied. “But you do have one point. Some sort of exile….” He paused. “Some place far from here, but where he would be kept under close watch.” Tarsus spun with a glint in his eyes. “Where he can redeem himself.”

Intila felt a shill going down his spine. “What do you have in mind, your majesty?”

But the Marshal already knew the answer.

“Lamash. I’ll send him to Lamash.”

  Intila marched across the Palace halls under a succession of salutes until he arrived at the Imperial family corridor. Cassia’s door was guarded by two Legionaries standing at attention.

“Open the door.”

The two soldiers exchanged a glance.

“Sir… we have orders to… not to….” Intila’s glare made it impossible for the man to finish his sentence.

The Legionary stepped aside and opened the door. Without so much as a look, Intila walked past him, into the Empress’s room.

Cassia jumped out of bed and stormed towards Intila, her eyes blood red. She slapped him with her right hand. The Marshal exhaled loudly as a red hand print grew on his cheek.

“There wasn’
t‒
” Intila was interrupted by another slap, this time from the left hand. He shut his eyes.

“Tarsus told me that this was your idea,” Cassia said. “That you advised him against being too soft. Is this true?”

Intila didn’t even blink. “The penalty for what Aric did is death. At least this way he has a chance.”

“A chance?!” Cassia screamed. “At what? What’s the life expectancy of a Dragon Hunter? Five years? Ten?”

“Many Hunters live to grow old.”

“Yes. The ones that are lucky enough to be mutilated. Or become mad….”

Cassia let herself fall into a chair, too tired to even cry.

“Aric is a strong boy. He takes after his grandfather,” Intila said. “He will pull through, you’ll see.”

Cassia did not reply. Giving up, the Marshal sighed. There was nothing else he could tell her. He turned around and headed to the door.

“And Doric?” Cassia asked.

Intila stopped. “The execution has been postponed.”

“I need you to delay it as long as possible,” Cassia said. “Please, Intila. At least until my birthday.”

“Very well,” Intila said after an overlong pause. Then left.

He had been locked in for hours. Instead of the dungeons, the soldiers had taken him to a wheeled cell in the middle of the courtyard. It was just like any other carriage, except the wood it had been built with was much thicker, and its only window was blocked with iron bars.

In the middle of the night, the Legionaries guarding him were replaced by Paladins, and one of them was kind enough to let him know where they were taking him. Lamash, the home fortress of the Dragon Hunters Guild.

It wasn’t worse than the gallows waiting for his father, but it wasn’t much better either. He was being exiled to the confines of the Empire, to spend the rest of his life on the scorching, Dragon riddled desert.

I’ll be Dragon lunch.

His thoughts were interrupted by voices from somewhere outside. He rose, bending so he didn’t bump his head against the ceiling. When he got to the small, barred window, Fadan’s face appeared on the other side.

“Are you alright?” the Prince asked.

“I think so…” Aric said with a shrug.

There was a brief silence.

“It was a dumb question,” Fadan said. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. Did they allow you to speak to me?”

“I didn’t ask for permission.”

Aric nodded, and the awkward silence returned.

“Thank you,” Fadan saidat last, his voice cracking. “It should have been the other way around. If they had caught m
e‒
”

“You’d be in trouble and I’d be blamed anyway,” Aric concluded in his stead.

“Maybe… I don’t know.” Fadan couldn’t take his eyes off the ground. “Maybe not.”

Aric summoned a chuckle. “I’m the older brother. It was about time I took care of you instead of the other way around.”

Fadan looked over his shoulder briefly, then removed something from his jacket.

“I went to your room and found this on your bed.” He handed Aric a parcel through the bars. “It looked important.”

Aric smiled. It was the armor Doric had gifted him. There was surely no place in the world where he would need it more than where he was going.

“I found this as well.” Fadan showed a small packet.

“No,” Aric said, pushing his brother’s hand away from the bars. “That’s for mum. My father told me it belongs to her.”

The Prince nodded his understanding and put the packet back in his pocket. At that moment, they heard the rattling of horse hooves. Fadan looked behind and saw a group of Paladins turning a corner. One of them, sporting a red feather on his hat, barked a sequence of orders and the rest of them spread across the courtyard, performing their tasks.

“Majesty.” The Paladin Commander bowed. “It is time. We must take the prisoner.”

“One moment, Captain.”

“Certainly.” The man bowed again, this time just with his head, then he turned to his men and resumed his barking. “Why is that gate still closed? Sergeant, I want six horses pulling this carriage.
Six
. This is not your father’s potato cart.”

Fadan drew closer to the barred window as if he could get away from the noise. Aric started shaking, and Fadan watched his color disappear.

“Calm down. It’ll be alright,” Fadan said.

Aric said yes with his head, but his face seemed to disagree. “Fadan, I’m scared,” he said.

“I know….” He had no idea what else to say.

“Majesty.” The Captain was back. “We really have to go. Your father’s orders, I’m afraid.”

Fadan nodded, then turned to his brother. Aric looked like he was about to vomit.

“I’ll get you out,” Fadan said, but his brother didn’t seem to be listening. “One day I’ll get you out of there. I promise.”

At that moment, the carriage drove off, and Fadan watched his brother move away with a tear rolling down his face. It reminded him of one other promise he had made the night before.

“
We’re going to save your father
,” Fadan had told his brother.

How many promises would he have to make before he could start keeping them?

Aric watched the gates of Augusta become smaller and smaller until they disappeared behind a hill. It was hard to believe he was headed south, never to return. He would never again sneak to his mother’s room to share a secret meal. He would never scour the library again for another book about his ancestors, or cross the Palace on the tip of his toes, chasing Fadan through the night.

Reality began to set as the green, flower covered fields of Arrel became sharp, copper colored hills. In less than a day they were in Samehria.

He had been locked in his room many times, but this experience was very different. The rough wooden floor transmitted every single one of the road’s imperfections, which at first was merely bothersome, but quickly became painful. He tried standing up, but that only managed to throw him face first against a wall, twice.

When the sun finally set, the carriage stopped, and the six Paladins made a small camp by the side of the road. Soon, the only visible light was that of the fire where they roasted three hares. Aric was given two slices of bread and a gulp of wine. He stood by the window, watching as the Paladins devoured their dinner. After finishing, one of them threw the bones of his meal into Aric’s cell.

“Here, you can chew on those,” he said with a sneer.

The others laughed. All except one, who simply stared thoughtfully at Aric. He had a huge mole on his nose and a twisted, grumpy mouth. Aric watched him take a bite out of a roasted leg with an absent-minded look on his face.

With their bellies full, it didn’t take long until four of them were snoring loudly. The remaining two stood watch – the thinker with the mole on his nose, and the Sergeant who lead the escort and whom everyone simply called Urin.

Aric scanned his cell. He would have to find a way to sleep in there. The dark, naked wood wrapped him like a coffin and he shrank, holding his own legs tight for warmth. He had never felt so alone.