The Dragon Hunter and the Mage (45 page)

The real flames reacted immediately. The explosion of fire wasn’t as impressive as the one Fadan had imagined, but the spell did its job and the guard jumped, startled.

Cursing, the sergeant looked up, readjusting his helmet. Fadan had to force himself not to giggle out loud. The man was probably questioning his own sanity. Torches didn’t do something like that.

Just as the man seemed to decide he had imagined it, Fadan sent another burst of power, making the flames taller, and twice as bright. The Legionary probably felt the heat on his face.

The poor man staggered back, tripped on a step, and fell backwards, yelping. Then, Fadan made a fist as he visualized the fire burning out. The real flames died as well, sending the staircase into darkness.

“Ava mother!” the sergeant cried. “Odrian! Odrian, are you there?”

Fadan heard the clanging of the sergeant nervously getting up and climbing the stairs in the darkness.

“Odrian!” the man repeated. “Sergeth? Anyone!? Where are you?”

Making himself as small as he could, Fadan stood still as the sergeant scurried past him in the darkness.

“Odrian? Sergeth?” the soldier kept calling, his voice getting further away.

The Prince did not waste any time. As soon as he knew the sergeant had turned a corner, he raced downstairs, reigniting the torch so that he could see. He jumped towards the door and went right past it, as if it wasn’t even there, then landed softly on the stone floor on the other side.

He looked back through the bars on the door’s tiny window and chuckled, feeling tremendously happy with himself. He sure could get used to these abilities.

He was standing in some sort of main hallway, from which several cell blocks fed. It looked almost like his father’s wine cellar; a succession of low archways where three men would have had a hard time fitting side by side. There were only a couple of torches in sight, their fuel seemingly about to run out, giving the place a cold, grayish light. Echoes of water drops falling on puddles reached him from every direction, and Fadan could swear he heard mice screeching in a corner. The smell was nearly overwhelming. The last time he had been here, he had assumed the stench from the sewers had followed him, lingering in his nose. It appeared, however, that the two places smelled exactly the same.

The sergeant would surely be back soon, so Fadan walked away. The poor man would have a hard time explaining to his friends what had happened.

Voices alerted him to the presence of guards inside. He had been expecting to find them, so the sound was actually welcome. It was far better to know where they were than bumping into them by accident.

He turned into the first block and walked between the rows of cells, inspecting them. Most were empty. The ones that weren’t though, did a horrible job of housing the inmates.

There was no furniture of any kind. Not even a carpet. Everyone was just lying on the ground, snoring next to foul looking puddles and rats. At least they weren’t too crowded. Usually, prisoners stood in pairs, with the occasional cell holding either three or just one lone prisoner.

It was impossible to see the faces of every single prisoner, as the darkness inside the cells obscured their features. Unfortunately, waking them up to check if any of them was Doric didn’t seem like a sensible idea, so Fadan just kept looking.

He had no luck in the first block, so he doubled back, heading for the second.

“Water…” a hoarse voice said from one of the cells.

Fadan froze, turning to the source of the sound, a bald man whose bare chest displayed a mess of scars.

“Please,” the prisoner continued. “Water.”

Where was he even going to find any water in this place?

“I’ll… see if I can find some,” Fadan replied in a whisper.

“Please,” the prisoner begged, rolling and dragging himself across the floor. “Please!”

The man was becoming too loud. Fadan had to rush away. He got back to the main hallway, peeking to make sure it was clear before turning the corner. He could still hear the guards’ voices. It sounded like a casual chat.

Fadan tiptoed to the edge of the second block and the voices became louder. Carefully, he took a peek. There were two shapes at the other end of the cell block, one of them holding a bright torch. They seemed to be discussing the contents of a particular cell.

Well, I hope Doric isn’t in this corridor,
Fadan thought.

With a hop, the Prince skipped across the hallway and headed to the next block. Just like the first, the third block had no guards. It was safe to inspect.

Fadan found no one inside the first couple of cells. The next ones were occupied by a pair of mice chewing at something in a corner. Then, Fadan saw him.

Doric was lying on the ground, his head resting on what looked like a bag of flour, although that was very unlikely. He was mindlessly playing with a gem tied around his neck, his eyes glued to the ceiling. Dark stains covered his gray, linen clothes, as if someone’s dirty boots had been walking all over him.

Realizing he had not been noticed, Fadan cleared his throat. Doric jumped, startled, and quickly hid the necklace under his raggedy shirt. 

“What do you want?” Doric demanded, raising on his elbows.

“Quiet,” Fadan whispered. He took a quick look over his shoulder. “Are you alright? Is there anything you need?”

Doric frowned, suspicious. “Wait…” he said. “It’s you. What are
you
doing here?”

That had been way too loud.

“Shh!” Fadan whispered. “There are guards nearby.”

“Where is Aric?” Doric asked, jumping up and grabbing onto the bars of his cell. “What happened to him? Is he alright?”

“You don’t know?”

Doric shook his head. Now that he was closer, Fadan noticed how feverish he looked. His hair and beard had grown like a wild bush. His skin was pale, and hung to his bones like dried leather, dark smudges covering it, and there were deep, dark circles carved under his blue eyes.

“Aric is… He’s gone to Lamash,” Fadan replied.

“Lamash?” Doric asked, his shoulders sinking. “Oh no… what have I done?”

“You didn’t do anything,” Fadan said reassuringly.

Doric didn’t seem to listen. He covered his eyes and began to sob loudly, tears rolling down his dirty cheeks.

“Doric,” Fadan pleaded. “Doric, please!”

The Prince slid a hand between the metal bars and squeezed Doric’s arm. It seemed to do the trick, as the man went silent. His watery, blue eyes gave Fadan an empty stare.

“It will be over soon,” Fadan told him. “I promise. Just hang in there a little longer.”

“Over? What do you mean?”

The Prince weighed his words. “I’ll help you.”

Once again, Doric gave him nothing but an empty stare, but his hand moved up to touch the necklace under his shirt.

“That necklace,” Fadan said, trying to sound friendly. “Can I see it?”

“No!” Doric backed away. “They won’t take it from me. Not this.”

That had been too loud again, and Fadan heard voices coming from the main hallway. He was running out of time.

“Damn it,” the Prince said beneath his breath, then turned to Doric again. “I’ll be back. I promise.” 

Doric said nothing, his eyes lost somewhere far away.

What the heck did they do to you?
Fadan thought.

He left Doric, racing towards the main hallway, but stopped before turning the corner. The voices had become loud enough that he could almost understand what they were saying. And, worst of all, the hallway had become much brighter than before.

They’re coming this way,
he realized.

Fadan’s head spun. The cell block was a dead end. The only exit was into the main hallway. He had nowhere to go. Excluding, of course, the cells.

Both cells flanking him were empty. He tapped his power, then jumped to his left and landed on the other side of the bars. Outside, two shadows turned the corner. Fadan shrank against the furthest, darkest part of his cell. He began to shake, and his stomach turned upside down.

“As you can see,” Fadan heard one of the men say as they walked by his cell, “these cells are smaller, but they could still easily fit five prisoners each.”

Those weren’t guards. The man who had just spoken was a Paladin commander, and the other one was Chancellor Vigild. What if he recognized Fadan?

The two men kept walking, finally passing him. If any of them noticed Fadan hunching in the corner, they must have assumed he was just another prisoner.

Fadan released the air from his lungs and started panting. How long had he been holding his breath?

“Well, I’d say they’ll do,” Vigild said, somewhere beyond where Fadan could see. “The Prisoner’s comfort isn’t exactly our first priority anyway.”

“And when can we expect them to arrive?” the Paladin asked.

“The raid is taking place tomorrow,” Vigild replied. “Commander Therian is leading it.”

Fadan perked up.
Raid?

“And he is confident that every Augustan Rebel will be at the meeting?” the Paladin commander asked.

“Not every one of them, no,” Vigild replied. “But our infiltrator has the location of all the other safe-houses. I don’t expect many of them to slip through our fingers this time. Mages or otherwise.”

Oh, no,
Fadan thought.
Alman…

Chapter 18

“You weren’t even close to being prepared!” Saruk yelled. “Have you any idea how lucky you got?”

Aric remained quiet, his eyes avoiding Saruk’s and his lips pressed against each other so hard they became a white line across his face.

“Let it go, Saruk,” Grand-Master Sylene said, getting up from her desk. “It might have been stupid, but at least they aren’t cowards. Besides,” she waved the letter in her hands, “we have much bigger problems.”

“That bad?” Saruk asked.

“It’s worse,” Sylene replied, handing him the letter. “See for yourself.”

At that moment, the door to the Grand-Master’s office creaked open and a man’s head peeked in.

“Grand-Master,” the man said, “you called?”

“Andraid,” Sylene said. “Yes, come in.”

The man walked inside, exchanging a nod with Saruk.

“This is Captain Aric Auron,” Sylene continued, “of the twenty third Company under instruction.”

“Ah!” Andraid smiled. “Saruk’s sand maggots. I already had the pleasure the other day in the dining hall.”

Aric suddenly recognized him. There were always so few Hunters at any given time in Lamash that seeing a familiar face wasn’t unusual. This, however, wasn’t just any familiar face. It was the same Hunter who had forced Ashur to insult one of the cooks the day before the final challenge for the leadership of the Company.

The man ran his leathery fingers through his long, strangely well-kept hair as he stepped inside. “So, why am I here?” he asked.

“Because of that,” Sylene replied, indicating the letter in Saruk’s hands. “It’s from the Governor of Nish himself. Captain Auron here just brought it from the city, where his Company fought off a Dragon.”

Saruk handed the parchment to Andraid, whose eyebrows had shot up.

“So it’s true?” Andraid said. “I mean, that’s all the people are talking about downstairs, but I thought it was hogwash.”

“No,” Sylene assured him. “It’s very true.”

“A Dragon over Nish…” Andraid mused pensively. “And you kids fought it? Brave!”

“Don’t tell him those things,” Saruk said. “He’s reckless enough without the encouragement.”

Andraid concentrated on the Governor’s letter, reading silently until a whistle escaped his scar crossed lips. “Man is pissed,” he said. “And rightly so, I would say. A Dragon attacking a city? When was the last time that happened? Three hundred years ago? Four?”

“We didn’t mess up at all,” Aric said. He turned to Sylene. “You’re not telling him the most important part of my report.”

“You’re not?” Andraid asked Sylene.

The Grand-Master rolled her eyes. “Captain Auron claims he saw the desert Witch herself. That she helped him fight the Dragon.”

“Oh?” Andraid said, lifting a very doubtful eyebrow.

Aric, however, ignored their skepticism. “The attack is not the Guild’s fault. The Dragon was under the control of a Mage. Eliran didn’t tell me much about him, but he must have found a way past our patrols and slipped the Dragon into the city.”

“Impossible,” Andraid told him. “Dragons can’t be controlled.”

“They can if you’re a Mage,” Aric replied.

“You’re not listening,” Saruk said. He unfolded his arms and stepped closer to Aric. “Mind control spells don’t work on Dragons. The Academy of Mages tried to create a spell such as that for centuries. Why do you think they moved into a whole tower right next to us? They were here to study the Dragons. They were obsessed with the idea of taming them, but they failed.”

Aric was taken aback. He didn’t know what to say. Was that really true?

“Their intentions were good,” Sylene told him. “The plan was to turn Dragons into a docile, harmless herd that would supply them with the all the blood they needed for their Runium. It would also end the Dragon threat for good. It was a thousand-year-old dream, really. One they never gave up on, but one that never bore fruit either. When the Purge came and destroyed the Academy, they weren’t any closer to taming a Dragon than they were five hundred years ago.” 

“But… I saw her,” Aric mumbled. “We all did.”

“You saw a Mage,” Saruk explained calmly. “Probably scared the life out of her. I mean, just imagine living your whole life being hunted down like a dog, then a group of fifteen armed people barge into your room. What would you have done in her place? She lied her way out of it, of course.”

“Scared? She didn’t look scared at all,” Aric said. “Besides, I saw her in the desert as well. With a Dragon.”

“You hallucinated,” Saruk said. “Just like you hallucinated with the sand storm. I’ve told you, it happens. The dehydration, the sun… it messes with our brains.”

Aric opened his mouth, rehearsing a retort, but what could he say? He knew what he had seen, knew Eliran was real. Everything else, though… Had she lied?

“It’s true,” Sylene added. “It happens even to the most seasoned of us.”

Silence covered the room while Aric stared at the floor. It was as if his whole life had suddenly stopped making any sense.

“Now, to the pressing matter at hand,” Sylene continued, recovering the letter from Andraid. “I will not allow this Guild to be handed to the Paladins. This,” she raised the parchment in front of her head, “is exactly what the Emperor has been looking for. An excuse. We
must
do something, and it has to be something drastic. Otherwise, we will find ourselves on the wrong side of a very short leash.”

“You have something in mind?” Saruk asked.

“I do,” Sylene confirmed with a nod. “A show of force, a demonstration of our capabilities. The largest Hunt the Empire has seen in decades.” She got up from her desk and paced fiercely. “We need to prove that we are in control of this desert, so let’s drown the bastards in Dragon blood.”

“And are we?” Andraid ventured. “In control of the desert?”

Sylene stopped her pacing but instead of replying, shot him a furious look until Andraid raised his hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright,” Andraid said. “You want a full mobilization and need our support, is that it?”

“What I need is your opinion,” Sylene replied. “I did not know your support was in question.”

Aric found his head swinging back and forth from the two of them as if he was watching a very fast game of Lagaht.

“Sylene, peace,” Andraid pleaded. “Of course, it isn´t. And I agree. A Grand Hunt should appease the capital.” He sighed. “I mean, if that doesn’t do it, nothing will.”   

“What about you, Saruk?” Sylene asked.

“I agree as well. My problem is the execution.”

“Go on.”

Saruk turned and paced along the study. “It’ll take a few days to round up the Companies in the field, but it
can
be done. Then there are the Companies stationed here, none of which are fully rested. However, the situation is dire, and I’m sure they will understand. The problem is the reservists. I mean, we can sort them into reasonably functional Companies in a matter of hours, but none of them will be capable of facing a Dragon. Not one.”

“Then we won’t let them fight,” Sylene said. “But if we are going to comb this desert from one end to the other, our regulars aren’t enough. We need the extra pairs of eyes. They can be our scouts.”

“They can, yes,” Saruk said, halting and resting a fist on his chin. “They won’t be fast, but they should be effective enough.”

“Excellent,” Sylene declared. “It is decided then. Andraid, please break the news to the regular Companies. Saruk, you handle the reservists.” She received two nods. “Also, Saruk, I’m reinstating you as Captain of the seventh.” She smiled. “Hopefully, your wife won’t mind.”

“Oh, it’ll make her sour as Cyrinian cider,” Saruk replied, smiling as well. “Still, better than being stuck here as a babysitter.” He turned to Aric. “No offense, kid.”

“None taken,” Aric replied. “Does that mean I should tell my Hunters to get ready to depart?”

“No,” Sylene told him. “We can´t just vacate Lamash. Someone has to stay behind, and your Company was the last one to see any action. If anyone deserves some rest, it is definitely the twenty third, so…” She stepped closer to Aric and laid a hand on his shoulders. “Captain Auron, you have the Fortress.”

Aric had read and re-read about every recorded war in southern Arkhemia, and this was exactly how he had imagined the armies of the world marching out of their castles. The Guildsmen lacked the shiny, steel armors of Augusta’s Legionaries or their colorful banners, but it more than made up for it with its wide array of protective gear and weaponry, exuberant hair styles and tattoos, and what Aric could only describe as the Guild’s very own demeanor.

There was no clear order of March, or even any apparent form of hierarchy for that matter, but Aric had been in Lamash long enough to know that everyone down there knew exactly what their place and job was, as well as who would kick their asses if they failed to do so. Guildsmen always looked relaxed, independent even, as if they answered to no one. You never saw anyone bowing or saluting their superiors. A nod was the highest display of respect he had ever witnessed in Lamash. Hunters also seemed to fight all the time. Discussions would erupt during a meal over insignificant matters and end in a bloody fistfight on one of the courtyards. Officers would not only refrain from stopping these fights, they would actually be the first to make a wager on the winner. Yet nothing was regarded higher than efficiency. Not even honor. Some men were downright hated by everyone else in their Companies, but no one minded Hunting with them so long as they did their job right. In fact, wasting a couple drops of water was far worse for your reputation than being caught lying.

Not that Aric had grown familiar with these things yet. It was all still extremely outlandish to him. He did not see himself as a Guildsman yet, but at the same time, for reasons he could hardly explain, Aric had to admit that Lamash was growing on him.

Maybe that was why he was feeling so anxious about the idea of being responsible for all of Lamash. The centennial mountain fortress, where countless thousands of men and women had lived, fought, and died, the Empire’s first defense – and nowadays the last – against the great Dragon scourge, and it was
his
job to take care of it. It would only be for a few days, a couple of weeks at the most, but still, it was daunting to say the least.

The column of Guildsmen was long gone when the sun touched the horizon, but Aric had still not left the main gate, as if he wanted to personally make sure no intruder got through.

“Grand-Master Auron,” someone said.

Aric looked over his shoulder to see Leth sauntering towards him.

“Your sentinel rotation scheme works splendidly,” Leth continued. “We should maintain good surveillance over all quadrants.” He stopped next to Aric, taking a good look over the desert. “Just one problem.”

“What is it?” Aric asked.

“You forgot the food, you idiot. The entire kitchen staff is gone. Who the heck is going to cook our meals?”

Aric slapped his own forehead. “Damn it! I knew there was something. You have the rotation schematic with you?”

“Here.” Leth handed him the piece of parchment they had created that morning.

“Hmm, everyone’s on a pretty tight schedule.” Aric scratched his chin. “This is what we’ll do. You and me, we’re cooking.”

Leth did not move. “Don’t make me insult you.”

“We either unman one of the watch-points or remove a couple hours of rest time from someone’s schedule. I’m not going to leave us blind on one quadrant, so that leaves option two, in which case, I refuse to ask anyone to rest less than me. So…”

“Leave us blind!? What are you talking about? We’re not going to be sieged by a rival neighboring kingdo
m‒
”

“There are raiders out there. Thieves, free-lances, and smugglers who would love to plunder this fortress. If they find out the whole Guild is out Hunting, what do you think they’ll do?” Aric turned around and headed inside. “Come on, it’s late. We need to prepare dinner.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Leth said, helping Aric close the main gate. “The Dragon blood stockpiles are empty, remember? We just returned from a blood run.”