The Dragon Hunter and the Mage (64 page)

Hagon and Doric exchanged a look.

“Would you… like me to take you to the Rebellion’s leadership?” Hagon asked, excitement seeping into his voice. “Because I can tell you for a fact that they would be thrilled to have you join.”

“I’m the Prince, Lord Hagon,” Fadan replied, turning his gaze back to the sea. “I’m not joining any Rebellion. The Rebellion, however, might be interested in joining me.”

Epilogue

Cassia had been dozing in and out of sleep, woken occasionally by the constant rattle of the carriage. When it stopped, she immediately sprung up in alarm. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Without a word, Venia stuck her head out the window. “Why are we stopping?” she called out.

“We need to rest the horses,” the guard Captain replied. “We’re far enough from the capital.”

Venia’s head returned inside and gave Cassia a questioning look.

“He’s right,” Cassia said. “We can’t just keep on going without rest.”

“I’m pretty sure we could,” Venia argued lightly, “but you’re the boss.”

The two of them stepped out of the carriage. Forest surrounded them, golden sunlight streaming between the swaying branches. They had been following an ancillary Imperial road, that much was obvious, but she wasn’t entirely sure where they were exactly.

With unsurprising efficiency, the Legionary escort dismounted, tied their horses, then dragged the carriage off the road.

It had been so long since Cassia had felt this way. So…
light
. There was an intoxicating, earthy smell coming from the damp forest floor, and it called to her in invitation. Cassia ambled around, her fingers running through the moss patches on the tree trunks. Venia followed.

“Your majesty?” the Captain called.

Cassia swung around. “Am I?” she asked. “Still the Empress, I mean.”

“Of course,” the man replied. “An Imperial marriage is not easily broken.”

“I suppose. Anyway, we haven’t even been introduced. Might I know your name?”

The Captain smashed a fist over his heart. “Darian, your majesty.” He wasn’t particularly well built for a Legionary, but his chiseled jaw would have made most of the statues in Augusta jealous.

“I like that name,” Cassia said. “Tell me, Captain Darian, where are we headed?”

“I was coming to ask the same.”

“You don’t have a plan?” Venia asked. “So… what, we’ve been going in some random direction?”

“Easy, Venia,” Cassia soothed. “The Captain is on our side.”

The spy wasn’t so sure. “Is he? How much gold do you have? What happens when you can’t afford his soldiers’ wages?”

“Maintaining unit cohesion is my responsibility,” Darian replied in Cassia’s stead. “If the Empress cannot afford the Maniple’s pay, I will procure it.”

“
Procure
it?” Venia asked.

“I think he means steal it,” Cassia explained.

Venia sent Cassia a bored look. “Yes, thanks for clarifying that to the closest thing to a thief here.”

“Watch your tongue!” Darian warned, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

Venia was going to bark something back, but Cassia stopped her with a gesture. “Will you both calm down!”

“This woman cannot speak to you this way, your majesty,” Darian objected.

“She…” Cassia took a deep breath. “Just ignore the way she speaks to me, alright? Now, can we focus on the matter at hand, please?”

Venia and Darian shared a bitter glance, but both gave up on the argument.

“Our priority was to put as much distance as possible between us and the capital,” Darian continued. “We can plan our next move calmly now.”

“Which makes perfect sense,” Cassia told Venia. The spy rolled her eyes.

“One possible destination could be the Empress’ home in Fausta, but that will likely be where the Emperor will look for us first.”

“Yes, that would be a bad idea,” Cassia said. “What I want is to find the Rebellion. They can keep us hidden, and they can lead me to Fadan.”

Venia sent Darian a smile. “How would you like to join the Rebellion, Captain?” she teased.

“The military does not hold political opinions,” Darian replied coolly. “It’s something spies could do well to learn.”

Venia snorted but did not reply.

“So how do we contact the Rebellion?” Cassia asked. “Any ideas?”

“I infiltrated a Rebellion cell years ago,” Venia offered, “but those people were arrested shortly before I entered your service.” She shrugged. “Does speak to my credit, though.”

“Very helpful. What about you, Captain?”

“I’m afraid this sort of thing is not my field of expertise,” Darian admitted. “I have nothing.”

“Well,” Cassia sighed, “there is one person… If she’s not with the rebels, then no one is. The Arch-Duchess of Pharyzah.”

The others considered that for a moment.

“We can be in Pharyzah in a week, at most,” Darian offered. 

Venia crossed her arms thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s as good an idea as any. You know this woman well? Can we trust her?”

Cassia shrugged. “Not very well, no. But if she is with the Rebellion, we should be fine.”

There were no objections from any of the others.

“Alright, then,” Cassia said. “We have ourselves a plan.”

Darian gave her a curt nod. “Very well. I will inform the men. Meanwhile, you should make yourselves comfortable. Unfortunately, we can’t risk entering city centers, so finding inns will be hard. I expect we’ll be sleeping by the side of the road most of the times.”

He gave a salute, turned on his heel, and left under Venia’s suspicious stare.

“Oh, relax Venia,” Cassia told her. “If Intilla chose him, it’s because he can be trusted. Besides, we’re free.” She opened her arms and took a deep breath. “When was the last you just enjoyed the wonderful forest air?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Venia reluctantly unfurled her arms. “We’ll see how wonderful you feel after sleeping in that carriage for a week.”

This was three times as far south as Aric had ever been. The sun was so mercilessly hot that everyone had to keep their heads wrapped in white turbans at all time so it wouldn’t cook their skins. Horses wouldn’t have survived the journey, and walking this far south would have been torture, so the Company and the other senior Hunters had ridden atop saddled camels. Everyone except for Prion, of course.

It hadn’t taken long for the deserter to be caught, mostly because of his own stupidity. Paladins had arrested him trying to swindle Glowstone shards, stolen from Lamash, in the streets of Radir. The Paladins hadn’t had too much of a hard time figuring out he was a Conscript on the run. The sentence, of course, had been the Pilgrimage.

Prion had begged for mercy for the entire first day and the better part of the second’s morning. But being dragged across the Mahar for miles and miles eventually took its toll, and he became quieter and quieter. Now he only mumbled from time to time, pleading to rest or for some water.

By order of Grand-Master Sylene, everyone ignored Prion’s pleas, but every now and then one of the senior Hunters gave him something to drink. Aric felt like it was a cruel joke.

“This is sadistic,” Clea told Aric as they crossed a dune crest. “It’s inhumane.”

Aric agreed. No matter how much he disliked Prion, he surely didn’t deserve this. No one did.

Without a word to Clea, Aric spurred his camel forward and galloped along the line of over fifty Hunters until he stopped next to Sylene.

“Grand-Master,” he greeted. “A word, if I may?”

Sylene nodded.

“This…” Aric waved towards the back of the caravan, where Prion was being dragged on foot behind a camel, “is this really necessary?”

“I think you already know the answer to that, Captain,” Sylene replied.

“This is needless cruelty. It would be more humane to just kill him.”

Sylene shot him a glare. “This isn’t just an execution, Captain. That Conscript abandoned his Company, his fellow Guildsmen. Is that the kind of person you want by your side when you enter a Dragon’s cave? Someone willing to turn tail and leave you? The Pilgrimage is a
symbol
. You all belong to the desert now, and you do not turn your back on the Mahar.”

Aric gritted his teeth in frustration. How could anyone agree with this? Even if Prion was well fed and hydrated, leaving him all by himself so far south into the desert was certain death. They weren’t teaching Prion a lesson. They were needlessly prolonging a miserable death.

“Grand-Master I must insis
t
‒
‒
”

“No, you will not,” Sylene interrupted sharply. Aric obeyed and simply looked away. “Good. Now, there’s something I would like to tell you. I received a visit from a Mage.”

Aric perked up. “Eliran?”

The Grand-Master shook her head. “It was a man. An old man.”

“And you can be sure it wasn’t an Archon?”

“It was a Mage,” Sylene replied flatly.

“What did he want?”

“To offer the Academy’s gratitude. They are apparently in our debt.”

“Are we sure that’s a good thing?” Aric asked.

Sylene smiled. “He also informed me the Frostbound’s security has been…
enhanced
. Whatever that means. I can’t say I’m comfortable knowing that creature is sleeping beneath my desert, but…” She shook her head. “What can I do about it?”

“Keep the place under close watch?” Aric suggested.

“Yes, of course. Which reminds me. We will be starting a new class as soon as your Company graduates.”

“You have new recruits?”

Sylene nodded. “Ten Conscripts, and two Cyrinian Honor Guards. They couldn’t have arrived at a better time. Every Company in the roster needs reinforcements.”

Aric looked over his shoulder at Prion. “Including mine. After today.”

“And I will be sure you get first pick of the new batch,” Sylene replied.

Aric sighed. “Thank you, Grand-Master,” he said flatly. “By your leave.”

Kicking his camel’s haunches, Aric turned around and trotted back to the rear, settling his mount next to Dothea’s. He glanced at Prion, staggering at the end of the column. His lips were cracked in a dozen places, and gruesome blisters littered his face.

Aric checked around him, making sure no one was listening, then whispered to Dothea.

“Find a way to disappear without anyone noticing. When Prion is released, wait for the caravan to get far enough away from him, then kill the poor bastard.”

Dothea nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

What could possibly be so urgent that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? After spending months and months in that dreadful desert and nearly getting herself killed, Eliran was sure she deserved, at the very least, a bath. Sometimes Eliran was sure Persea spent more time coming up with ways to make her life miserable than actually leading what was left of the Academy.

She knocked on the tall, double door of her mistress’ study and waited. From another door down the corridor, a Mage left his own study, gave her a polite nod, and left towards the stairwell at the other end of the hall. Persea’s door, however, remained closed.

Eliran fumed.

Now she’s just making fun of me,
she thought.

Not that it was surprising. Eliran and Persea’s dance had begun years ago, shortly after the Purge. For fear that the facility’s secret, underground location would fall into the wrong hands, only a few of the Purge’s survivors had been directed to Ragara. Yet even among those few, only a handful ever caught Persea’s attention. Eliran had been one of them.