The Dragon Hunter and the Mage (13 page)

The Paladin gave a satisfied nod, then left, locking the cell behind him. “I’ll get something for you to eat,” he said as he walked away.

When Aric finally remembered to thank him, Corca was already gone. On the cell across from him, the old man laughed.

“I guess you’re not that unlucky after all.”

The days went by, as monotonous as the red landscape around him. He tried his best to do everything as they told him, to be as discreet as possible just as Corca had instructed him. For more than once, though, he had the feeling that the Paladins were trying to provoke him. It was as if they were looking for an excuse to unload their frustrations on him. In the beginning, he had no idea why a defenseless prisoner bothered them so much, but he quickly realized he wasn’t just any prisoner. He was a member of the Imperial House. What did they care if he wasn’t a son of the Emperor, or that Tarsus hated his guts? To the Paladins, Aric was nothing but a spoiled brat who had had the gall to throw it all away by defying the Emperor.

No wonder they felt jealous. A little brat had been braver than they ever could.

Cowards….

In Samehria, cities and villages were few and far between, so they were able to sleep under a roof only a couple of nights. The remaining five nights, they camped by the side of the road, but Aric refrained from any other escape attempt. The trip would last only a week or so. Nish was way down south in the Cyrinian March, a thin strip of land stretching from the Western Sea to the Eastern Sea, that separated the Mahari desert from the rest of Samehria.

They arrived after the sun had set on their ninth day of travel, but not even darkness could explain how empty the city felt. Through his carriage window, Aric did not see a soul, and most buildings looked abandoned, with broken windows and doors sealed with wooden boards. The carriage finally stopped in front of an enormous white building where they were greeted by an old man wearing a Samehrian tunic. The Paladins marched inside with Aric in front and were visibly upset when the old man told them the Hunter who was supposed to pick him up hadn’t arrived yet.

“What does that mean?” Urin, the escort’s Sergeant, asked. “He arrives tomorrow? After that?”

The old man shrugged, not looking very concerned with that matter. The Paladins cursed and complained loudly about the time it would take to get back home. Ignoring them, the old man signaled Aric to follow him to a staircase.

They were on the last step when they heard, “Where do you think you’re taking him?” Urin asked.

“To his room,” the fragile old Samehrian said.

His skin was the color of wheat. He had lost most of his teeth, so his lips curved inward, slightly disfiguring his tender expression.

“He can’t leave our side,” the Sergeant said.

“The boy belongs to the Guild, now. He’s no longer your prisoner,” the old man informed them.

“He’ll belong to the Guild when the Hunter picking him up arrives. Until then, he’s my prisoner, so get him down here.” 

“This Bloodhouse belongs to the Guild.” The old man motioned towards Aric. “So, if the boy is here, he’s not your prisoner. He’s our Conscript.”

He might have looked fragile, but he showed no sign of fear.

“Every Bloodhouse belongs to the Emperor, old fool. Now get him down here unless you want me to get him myself!”

The old man did not even flinch. He frowned challengingly.

“Admirably brave, threatening a toothless old man. I might not hunt Dragons any more, or be young enough to teach you a lesson, but you can’t leave here before my fellow Guildsman arrives and takes the boy from you.” He held onto the railing and bent towards the Paladins. “I can assure you, he does not possess my limitations.” He turned his back to them and continued climbing the stairs.

Aric was unable to suppress a smile on his face. He might not have any intention of joining the Guild, but he couldn’t picture anything better than those jerks being humiliated by an elderly man that could barely walk.

The Samehrian opened the door to one room and showed Aric inside. He walked in but stopped midway through.

“I don’t mean to abuse your generosity, but….” Aric showed his cuffed hands.

“Don’t worry,” the old man said. “As soon as they fall asleep, I’ll steal the key.” He winked, then left.

The man kept his promise. One hour later, he showed up carrying a tray of food. There was goat cheese, slices of grilled ostrich meat, dried dates, bread, a large mug brimming with beer, and a small key. He helped Aric get rid of his cuffs, then stood watching him devour his dinner.

“Are you scared?” the old man asked as Aric licked some fat from his fingers.

He wasn’t anymore. Not since Corca had promised he would help him escape. But before that he had been, a lot, so he decided to say yes.

“That’s natural. You would be a fool not to. In the desert, everything conspires to kill us. Hunger, thirst, the sun, dune lions, scorpions. Dragons, of course. Even Eliran.”

“Who?” Aric asked with a mouthful of cheese.

“Eliran, the desert Witch,” the old man replied as if everyone knew that.

“There’s a Witch in the desert?”

“Wherever there are Dragons, there are Wizards.”

“But… why would she want to kill me?” Aric had never harmed any Mage. He actually wished he was one.

“Ten years ago the Empire killed everyone like her. Can you imagine surviving that? What would you do if you were in her place? Would you have any friends among the non-magical folk?”

Aric did not know how to answer that.

“The Guild will teach you to survive in the Mahar,” the old man continued. “Where to find water, how to protect yourself from sandstorms, even how to kill a Dragon. But they can’t teach you how to protect yourself from Eliran.” He paused and there was a small silence. “Oh, many will tell you she doesn’t exist. They’ll tell you she’s just a story to frighten young children. But she’s real, and she’s out there. So if you see her… run, boy.
Run
. Or you won’t live to tell the story.”

Aric felt a chill drum down his spine but told himself it probably was just a story to frighten young children. Besides, he wasn’t really going to Lamash. Corca would help him escape.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” the Samehrian asked.

Aric replied with a shrug. “I have no reason to believe or doubt you. I just got to Nish. I know nothing about the desert, or Witches, or about what a Witch might want in the desert.”

“Ah!” the old man said. His eyes shone. “That is the question, is it not?”

Was it? Aric wasn’t sure he was still following the conversation.

“There is plenty that she might want in the desert. Come with me,” he said, then stood up and left. He didn’t even wait for Aric.

They went downstairs. The Samehrian didn’t seem worried about the Paladins, but Aric could not avoid walking on the tips of his toes. They walked along two corridors until they arrived at a huge, barricaded door. Above the door, a small inscription had been scraped away and was unreadable, but the symbol of the Academy was still obvious – a flaming drop of water.

“We call the whole building Bloodhouse, but truly the
proper
Bloodhouse is down through this door,” the man said. “There are many of these across the Empire, but none is as close to the desert as this one. When magic was forbidden, this Bloodhouse, like all others, was shut down. The city itself suffered a similar fate,” he said longingly. “With the exception of a few spice traders, there is nothing left here to attract people, but once Nish was the heart of the magic trade in the Empire. Where there is Runium, there is magic, and where there is Dragon blood, there is Runium. No other city in the Empire had access to as much Dragon blood as Nish, and it was all transformed in there.” He indicated the door.

“I saw no other Paladins beside the ones who brought me,” Aric said. “Who guards this brewing chamber?”

“There is no need anymore. The brewing chamber was destroyed a couple of months ago. And before you ask, no, it was not an order from the Emperor.”

Aric was confused.

“So… who? How? Why?”

The old man chuckled.

“Exactly.” He crossed his arms, hugging himself. “I woke up in the middle of the night. There was a scream, no… a shriek.” His eyes were distant now. “Something no human mouth should be able to produce. It chilled my every bone. The other Paladins and I ran down here. The door was cracked open, and the two men who should have been guarding it were gone. We found them both inside, their naked bodies nailed to the wall above the blood pool, except that their bodies had been drained of all their blood and the pool had been smashed to pieces.” The old man shivered. “I don’t know for sure what happened, but I know it was magic and not the kind the Academy used to make.”

That was the creepiest thing Aric had ever heard.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

“You must know. All Hunters do,” the old man said, shaking. “She is out there in the desert, and whatever she is doing is unnatural. She must be stopped.” He looked downright terrified.

They heard someone clear his throat and both jumped, turning towards the noise. It was a Paladin – Corca.

After a small sigh of relief, the old man said, “Don’t worry, sir. I was just showing the new recruit our facilities.”

“The boy should rest,” the Paladin said, pretending politeness. “Your fellow Guildsman could arrive tomorrow and if so,” he nodded towards Aric, “it will be a long day for him.”

Aric nodded back and agreed. The old man did not object, so shortly after, Aric was back in his room.

That night, Aric dreamt he was having lunch in the main hall of the Citadel with his mother, his father, and Fadan. The mood was joyful and there was no sign of Tarsus anywhere. Then, a Dragon had appeared in the sky above Augusta, and in the middle of the fire and destruction, Aric got lost from his family and ended up in a desert at the gates of the city. Suddenly alone, lost, and with the scorching sun searing his skin, he walked along the dunes until he found shelter beneath a formation of red rocks. He got scared after seeing a scorpion on the ground, and when he tried to leave he saw another one, and then another, and another, and another. There were scorpions everywhere, sprouting from the rock itself. He searched for a piece of ground free of the deadly animals, but there was none. Then, he heard a sinister laugh, the laugh of a woman. She came from behind one of the boulders, her gray face like that of a cadaver floating above a white tunic that flowed shapelessly as if there was no body underneath it.

“You shouldn’t be here, Hunter!”

He woke up covered in sweat, breathing heavily as if he had just run for hours. He shook his head, trying to remove that image from his mind, her scream still hammering in his ears. 

Someone knocked, and Aric opened the door as he wiped the sticky sweat from his face. It was Corca.

The Paladin looked over his shoulder and said, “The Hunter has arrived. We are on our way, and you should leave soon as well.” He looked over his shoulder again. “I’ll follow you and as soon as the sun sets,” he nodded, “your prison is over.”

Aric smiled, feeling a mix of relief and excitement.

The Paladin turned to walk away, but Aric stopped him.

“Won’t your friends notice you’re missing?”

“My friends will be wasting what little they have on prostitutes and wine. By the time they realize I’m gone we’ll be at the gates of Victory.”

“I thought they couldn’t wait to get home?”

Corca laughed.

“Their home is whatever brothel cheap enough for our miserable salary. Don’t forget, it will be tonight, so don’t fall asleep. I might need help.”