The Dragon Hunter and the Mage (33 page)

“Aric!” Clea shouted.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Left.”

That was all he needed to know. Without slowing down even a bit, Aric obeyed and ran left.

“Now right,” Clea shouted. She was following him closely.

Using the banner as a towel, Aric cleaned his eyes as best as he could, stumbling from one wall to another, using Clea’s instructions to keep going. The problem was, were they headed in the right direction? 

Some shapes started to form as Aric’s eyes cleared. Not enough to actually see what was in front of him, but enough to keep him from banging his head against the walls.

He reached a gigantic, square hall, much wider than any room he had been in yet. At least ten different corridors fed from it, and Aric looked from one to the other.

Panting, Clea finally caught up with him. “What happened to not stopping no matter what?” she asked.

“I…” Aric was having trouble coordinating his breathing with his speech. “I don’t know where the gate is.”

“There!” Aric heard someone yell.

It was Ashur again. He had somehow trailed him.

Cursing, Aric fled through a random corridor. Behind him, the sound of an arrow being fired was followed by the crackling sound of shattering stoneware.

“I think I missed!” Clea shouted.

“Hit them with another one!” Aric replied.

This time, there were painful screams when Clea fired her arrow, and Aric allowed himself to stop again when he reached a bifurcation.

“I’m down to my last one,” Clea said as she caught up with Aric once again.

“What do you say, left or right?” Aric asked.

They had to be close to the exit now. They
had
to.

“How should I know?!”

“Just say one at random.”

“Oh, Goddess damn this,” Clea complained. “Alright, left.”

Aric grabbed her hand and darted left.

This corridor was much narrower than the previous ones. It snaked left and right a couple of times until it turned into a straight line, at the end of which stood the grated gate that led outside the Gauntlet.

That was it. One final sprint and he would win.

Aric let go of Clea’s hand and raced forward, his fuzzy eyes completely focused on that gate alone. Until he caught movement from the corner of his eyes.

His heart sunk for a moment, but then he recognized Leth. The Akhami had come through one of the several doors leading to the hallway and stopped midway between Aric and the gate. He looked at Aric, then over his shoulder.

“Oh, crap!” he said.

The meaning became instantly apparent. Jullion and the others were still chasing him, and he had just led them straight to Aric.

I’m not stopping for anything.

Roaring, Leth turned around and rammed Jullion to the ground, dragging Orisius and Athan with them. An instant later, an arrow landed next to them, wrapping the group in a thick white blob.

“I’m out,” Clea shouted. “Run!”

But she didn’t have to say it because nothing on this side of the sun or beyond it would stop Aric. He zoomed past the pile of blind recruits and saw the gate slide open.

Three more steps.

He tripped, lost his balance, and crashed spectacularly.

It didn’t matter, however. He was already outside.

“You were incredible!” Clea said, her eyes glowing.

Aric was surrounded by the entire Company, getting everyone’s congratulations. Well, maybe not
everyone’s
, but, at least this time, Ashur wasn’t barking at his own teammates for congratulating Aric. Even Prion and Jullion shook his hand.

“Good job,” Leth told him, winking.

“Good job, yourself!” Aric replied. “That was brilliant!”

Leth shrugged. “Well, you know me…”

The two of them laughed, slapping each other’s backs.

“Settle down,” Saruk demanded, his hands in the air. “You’ll have plenty of time to celebrate. In fact, you all get the day off.”

The whole Company howled as if a pile of gold had just been handed to them. Saruk asked for silence again.

“As I said, the celebration can be done later. Right now, your new Captain needs to be sworn in.”

“What does that mean?” Irenya asked.

“It means Aric needs to fill in an entry on the Guild’s record about himself and the Company,” Tharius said before Saruk could answer.

“Wait,” Jullion said. “You mean he has to write? What if Ashur had won? He can’t write.”

All recruits burst out laughing, except Ashur, who punched Jullion on the shoulder.

They all hopped out of there, the mood far brighter than it had been on the way down.

Tharius had been right. Aric was escorted to the Grand-Master’s office where he was handed a massive tome. When he opened it, every page was blank. The only thing written on it had been engraved on the leather cover:

LOG

TWENTY THIRD COMPANY OF DRAGON HUNTERS

FOURTH BANNER

UNDER CAPTAIN ARIC AURON

“Start by filling out the date,” Sylene told him, handing him a quill and some ink. “Then state your name, date, and place of birth, and, since you are a noble, ascendancy, rank, and place in line for the throne.”

Aric started scribbling quietly, but fast. Everyone was celebrating his victory and he was stuck in here.

“State that on this day you won the right to Captain the Company, then briefly describe each of your Hunters.”

Aric’s quill stopped. “Briefly describe?” he echoed. “What exactly should I say?”

“Ideally? Everything you know about them.”

What?!

This was going to be a long day…

“This log is now your most important possession,” Sylene said. “Upon your death, it will be taken to the Guild’s Records in the lower levels and added to our accumulated wealth of wisdom. You must register all of your experiences as a Company. Omit as little detail as possible. You never know how many lives your words may one day save.”

“Yes, madam,” Aric replied, writing furiously fast.

The Grand-Master slammed the palm of her hand on the table in front of Aric. “I’m serious,” she said. “This is one of your most sacred duties as a Captain.”

Aric held her stare. Her eyes were burning.

“I understand, Grand-Master,” Aric said. “I do.”

“Good,” she said, slowly retracting her hand.

“Is this enough detail?” Aric asked. He had just finished describing Leth.

Sylene inspected the paragraph and snorted. “How did he react to your orders as your teammate?” she prompted. “How was his overall performance in each challenge? Does he eat a lot, wake up on time? Come on, Captain. Be specific.”

Oh, dear Goddess…

This was going to be worse than any class he had ever had in the Citadel, and it was, if not worse, certainly longer. By the time he was finally done describing the Company to Sylene’s liking, the sun was already setting. The day – his day – was gone.

He closed the log with a sigh and Sylene sent him on his way, finally congratulating him for the victory as she closed the door to her study.

Aric rushed to the Company quarters, but instead of a large, ecstatic welcome, all he got was a white banner hanging from Skully’s teeth. It said: Welcome to the twenty third Company – The Half-Princes.

“You like it?”

It was Trissa. She was in the common room, but she could see Aric standing in the lobby from where she was sitting.

“Have we been officially named?” Aric asked, joining her in the common room. To his disappointment, there was no else in there.

“No,” Trissa replied. “But that’s what most of us think we should be named. We took a vote. ‘The Desert Farts’ nearly won.”

Aric chuckled. “Sorry I left you alone out there.”

“Are you kidding me? You guys did all the work, I just stood there.”

“What do you mean?”

“No one came, Aric,” Trissa said, smiling. “I just stood there waiting. The whole time.”

“You’re kidding me!”

The two of them burst out laughing.

“I’m serious,” Trissa said, wiping away a tear. “I just sat there holding ten blind bombs and nothing happened.”

“Oh, goddess…” Aric exhaled, gasping from the laughter. “Where is everyone?”

“Most of them have gone to sleep,” Trissa said. “Dothea made Tharius drink an entire bottle of wine by himself. The poor guy passed out hours ago.”

Aric grimaced. “What about… Clea and Leth?”

“Hmm… I think I saw Clea on that balcony outside.”

“Oh yeah, I know the one.” That was perfect. He could still give her the daisy. Tonight would be the perfect night to do it –
His
night. “There’s this thing I need to discuss with her.” Aric was already on his way out.

“Sure,” Trissa said. “Hey, Aric?”

He turned. “Yes?”

“Congratulations.”

Trissa smiled, and Aric found himself smiling back. He had never been this proud of himself.

With his chest swelling, Aric sauntered out of the Company’s quarters and headed for the balcony down the corridor. He tried to picture the moment and rehearsed his speech a couple of times. Carefully, he removed the daisy from the small pocket he had kept it in. The tiny flower had flattened a bit, but with some careful prodding, Aric restored the daisy to its former beauty. Clea would love it.

As he neared the balcony’s threshold, he stopped, straightened his clothes and ran his fingers through the curls of his hair. Finally, he cleared his throat and crossed out to the balcony.

The sight stopped him dead in his tracks, and for a moment, it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the world.

Leth and Clea were in each other’s arms, lips touching.

A hand reached inside Aric and ripped out everything inside his chest. His whole body felt like a hollow casket.

At first, Leth and Clea didn’t notice him, and Aric was too shocked to do or say anything. When the two of them finally noticed him, they caught the fright of their lives. Leth nearly fell off the balcony.

“Aric!” Clea squeaked.

“Ava’s mercy,” Leth said, gasping. “You want to kill us?”

“I…” Aric’s mouth moved but nothing really came out. He put his hand behind his back and crushed the desert daisy between his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

If Leth and Clea said anything else, Aric did not hear it. He just spun around and disappeared.

Chapter 13

The Legionary waved Fadan into the room. The man looked extremely uncomfortable with what he was doing, but not enough to disobey his orders.

Fadan walked inside and heard the lock clicking shut behind him. The room was quiet and peaceful, a gentle draft swaying the window’s curtains. He walked to his bed and let himself fall onto the soft feather mattress, his eyelids suddenly impossibly heavy. He hadn’t even realized how exhausted he was until this moment.

His mind drifted, surrendering to sleep, and soon he was dreaming about the tavern. He was inside, surrounded by a loud group of sailors, but the tavern looked exactly like the Imperial Palace’s Great Hall. The sailors cheered, toasting with wooden mugs brimming with beer. They screamed at Fadan, laughing obscenely.

“Look at his boots.”

“Look at his legs!”

“Ha! Skinny as a little girl.”

“Pretty as one too.”

Fadan wanted to leave, but the circle of sailors tightened around him as if the crowd was about to swallow him.

Three knocks on the door woke him up. Fadan looked around, his fuzzy eyes finding his room instead of the mocking sailors. He got up slowly, his legs’ muscles complaining from the effort. It felt like one of those mornings after a particularly painful session with the weapons-master, but when he looked out his window and found the moon perched high above the Palace’s towers, he realized that he had only been asleep for a couple of hours, at most.

There were three more knocks on the door.

“Fadan, it’s me.”

The Prince recognized his mother’s voice coming from the other side of the wood. “Come in,” he said.

The door creaked open and the Empress glided inside. One of the Legionaries standing guard outside quickly closed the door behind her, and the two of them stared at each other in silence.

“You were sleeping?” Cassia asked awkwardly.

Fadan shrugged. “Not much else to do in here,” he replied.

“Of course…” The Empress glanced around as if she hadn’t been in this room thousands of times before. “I tried to soften your punishment as much as I could, but, to be honest, for once I have to agree with your father.” She stepped towards her son. “Why would you disappear like that, Fadan?”

Fadan sighed, looking down. “I already said I was sorry.”

Cassia shook her head. “Aric used to be the rash one, not you.”

Fadan walked to his window. “Even you are siding with him, now?”

“What are you talking about? Fadan, you disappeared for
three
days!” She received no reply from her son. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Because you’re angry? You think you’re angrier than me?”

“I’m not
doing
anything,” Fadan replied. “I came back, I apologized, and I’ve accepted my punishment. What else do you want?”

“I want you to be safe,” Cassia said gently. “I want to make sure I don’t lose another son.”  

“I’ve told you, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yes, you did tell me that,” Cassia said. “And then you disappeared for
three days
!”

Fadan sighed. “I disappeared for two days and a few hours,” he said. “And as you can see, I’m fine.”

“Fine!? You have blood on the back of your head, Fadan.”

“What?” The Prince sent a hand behind his head and felt a crust of dry blood sticking to his hair.

Damn it!

“This is… this looks worse than it is…”

“Stop it!” Cassia demanded. “If you’re going to lie to me, then I’d rather you stayed silent.”

Fadan opened his mouth, to say something but ended up obeying his mother.

“I’ve lost Aric,” the Empress said, her voice shaky. “I might lose Doric at any moment. Please, Fadan, I can’t handle being afraid for you as well.”

“You haven’t lost Aric,” Fadan said. “He’s still alive.”

And I’ve made him a promise,
he thought.
Two, in fact.

“Please, just promise me you won’t do anything foolish,” Cassia said, bringing her hands together in a plea.

Fadan swallowed. What was he supposed to do? He surely couldn’t confess his plan.

“I… I promise,” he ended up saying.

And there it was, another promise though this time he didn’t even intend to keep it.

For the first time in his life, the Prince arrived at Macael’s classroom before his tutor. The old man frowned at Fadan, already sitting in wait, as he walked inside, but made no comment. The morning went by, and Fadan did a wonderful job pretending he was paying attention to the mathematics lesson, or, at least, he assumed he did. The truth was, the only lesson on his mind was of a very different kind.

After lunch, Fadan attended his history and philosophy classes, and this time, he was pretty sure both tutors realized he wasn’t listening to a single word they said. Not that Fadan cared. He had far more important things to worry about, like how exactly he was going to flee his room with two guards stationed outside his door.

As the sun began to set, Fadan went for a walk, skirting the perimeter of the core Palace. He used every trick he could think of to make sure that he would detect anyone who might be following him. He doubled back without warning three times, sneaked behind bushes after turning a corner, then waited for someone to come following him. He even used the blade of his knife as a mirror to check behind him.

Unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched, Fadan studied the wall outside his bedroom. The Imperial family’s hallway was on the third floor of the Palace, which meant getting out through the window would require some climbing. Unlike other wings of the Palace, this wall had no odd bricks sticking in or out that could be used to climb. Everything was beautifully leveled. On the other hand, there were ribbon-like low relief sculptures framing the windows, as well as wooden window shutters, all of which could very likely handle Fadan’s weight. These ledges, of sorts, were further apart from each other than what would be ideal, but they could be used as a ladder.

The problem was, Fadan could bet there would be someone stationed outside his window that night. It had been the reason he had postponed his return to the Palace. For as long as his father remained angry at Fadan, there would be people watching his every move.

Throwing one last glance around him, trying to notice if anyone was watching, Fadan left towards the Palace’s main gate and, just as he turned a corner, bumped head first into someone.

It was Sagun. “Your majesty, what are you doing here?”

Of course…
Fadan thought. The Akhami Castellan had probably been looking for him.

“That’s none of your business, Sagun,” Fadan said.

“Ah, I see,” Sagun said. “The Prince has forgotten about his punishment. No wonder he’s disobeying his father’s orders.”

“I’m not disobeying anything. I’m free during the day.”

“I’m afraid your majesty is only free to attend your classes, nothing else.”

Fadan did not reply this time. He stood there, holding Sagun’s stare.

“Will your majesty allow me to escort him back to his room?” the Castellan asked after a moment.

“I know the way back to my room, Sagun. I’m sure you can make yourself useful somewhere else.” And with that, Fadan brushed past the Castellan.

Grumbling something inaudible, Sagun followed the Prince back to the Palace but made sure to keep a few, respectable paces of distance. Fadan considered running and disappearing through one of the myriads of corridors of the Imperial residence, but he was trying to keep a low profile. And with good reason. Besides, it wouldn’t be long before nightfall. His waiting was nearly at an end.

Back in his room, Fadan did not have to wait long before the Legionaries escorted him back down to the Great Hall for dinner.

Lord Fabian was one of the guests that evening, along with the rest of House Lagon, a pompous group of men and women who droned on and on about commercial rights contracts, financial investments, and tax exemptions. No one would have guessed how fabulously rich they were considering their ceaseless complaints. Apparently, the market was dreadful nowadays.

Other guests included the Count of Belleragar and his wife, seven high ranking officers from the Paladins, and most of House Portar-Ravella, which included a niece of Lord Calva named Livia, a pretty, blond girl from Aparanta who was visiting the Citadel for the first time in years. The girl spent the whole meal sending Fadan odd stares. By the time the Prince was done with dessert, he looked redder than the raspberry pudding.

As dinner approached its end, the courtesans rose. Not to leave, though. Imperial dinners were usually divided into two phases. Fadan thought of them as the public and the private dinners. During the first, everyone sat together at the table, while in the latter, guests mingled in smaller groups. Tiny tables, covered with all sorts of liqueurs, brandies, and vermouths, were set inside the open-sided hallway built around the hall. Guests casually walked around, gathering for more discrete conversations over a glass of some exotic beverage. This part of dinner was exactly what courtesans looked most forward to. In fact, for some of them, it was the only reason to ever come. The curious thing, Fadan found, was that for the first time in his life, he had actually been looking forward to it as well.

“Lord Fabian,” Fadan greeted the old soldier after dodging one of Livia’s approaches. “So nice to see you.”

Fabian and a small group of his cousins bowed. “Your majesty,” he said.

“Remember the conversation we had the other day?” Fadan asked. “About military logistics in the northwestern campaigns?”

“Of course,” Fabian replied.

“I have to say, I found the subject fascinating,” Fadan mused. “I wonder if you could elaborate further on the matter.”

“It would be my pleasure, your majesty,” Fabian said.

Sensing a boring conversation, Fabian’s small entourage immediately excused themselves. They hadn’t come to the Citadel to entertain the Prince.

Fadan waited until they were alone. “I’m going to need your help,” he said.

“Already?” Fabian asked.

Fadan shrugged. “I need to be somewhere tonight, and as you may have heard, my freedom of movement is…” He looked at Sagun, hunching next to the Emperor across the hall, whispering something in his ear. “Let’s say,
limited
.”

“May I ask where you must go with such urgency?”

Fadan shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Also… it’s not just for tonight.”

Fabian frowned.

“It’ll be every night from now on,” Fadan continued.

“You’re going to make me regret helping you,” Fabian said.

“Can I count on you or not?” Fadan asked.

Fabian exhaled loudly. “You’ll need to come out through your window,” he said.

“I had figured as much. What I don’t know is if my window is being watched.”

“It is,” Fabian replied, “but I can handle it. Wait by your window. No candles or lamps. I’ll signal when the coast is clear, so pay attention to the courtyard.”

“I will,” Fadan agreed, nodding.

The Count of Belleragar walked by and the two of them fell silent, politely greeting him.

“I assume you can find your way once you’re out of your room,” Fabian said when the Count was gone, “and that you’ll be back before morning. Otherwise, there is nothing I’ll be able to do to help.”

“Don’t worry, I will. But how will I know if the coast is clear when I do?” Fadan asked.

“Just make sure you’re back before dawn,” Fabian replied. “I’ll take care of the rest. If the worst happens we’ll just say you were out seeing some girl.” He motioned towards the statue of a general besides which Livia stood, staring penetratingly at Fadan. “Which is what you should be doing anyway.”

Fadan blushed. He saw the girl smile, then start towards him. Like a cornered animal, the Prince looked around. Where had Fabian gone? He swallowed.

Oh, goddess…