The Dragon Hunter and the Mage

by V. R. Cardoso

  As he moved through the city, carefully cobbled streets were gradually replaced by mud paths, while stone houses, five or more stories high, were replaced by wooden shacks with three floors at the most. Then, the wide curve of the Saffya became visible. Ships of every shape and size were anchored to a tapestry of docking peers, wooden scaffolding rising here and there. Lamps and torches disappeared, and the streets became lit by the moon alone, helped by the massive, mirror-like surface of the Saffya. Barrels and crates seemed to be lumped together everywhere. Dogs rummaged through garbage piles, and cats fought each other in back alleys.

  He had arrived at the Docks.

  What was he supposed to do now, though?

  There were plenty of shady characters lurking here and there, but Fadan couldn’t bring himself to approach any of them.

  A man walked past him, stepping into a puddle and splashing Fadan’s boots with muddy water.

  “Hey!” Fadan complained. “Watch where you’re going.”

  If the man even heard him, he made no sign of it. He simply kept walking until he reached a door and opened it. Light and wild chatter poured outside until the door closed behind the man.

  A tavern.

  Fadan felt like going in there as well. Not to chase the man, of course. It should just be easier to strike up a conversation inside a tavern than in the streets. Someone in there would have to know something or someone that could help. He decided to go in.

  Muffled sounds of laughter came through the wooden door. Hanging above it, shaped like a tiara, was a plaque that read The Boring Princess.

  Fadan chuckled and walked inside. The air was thick with smoke and the tang of bad wine. Two long tables occupied most of the space, and a crowd of what Fadan guessed were sailors gathered around both of them, drinking, yelling, and laughing obscenely loud. There were other, smaller tables, lining the walls, where a myriad of different patrons sat. Fadan chose one of the only two vacant tables and sat down, pulling his hood back. Behind him was a pair of old men playing cards while at the table across from him a Cyrinian tuned a sitar.

  It was a strange, diverse crowd, certainly much different than what he was used to, but that was to be expected.

  One of the girls waiting tables walked by but completely ignored Fadan. Not that he was in any hurry to try their wine. That was when he noticed one of the sailors at the long table staring at him with a wicked smile. The man scratched his chin, weathered skin under a couple days’ worth of old beard. His hand had the thickest knuckles Fadan had ever seen.

  The Prince averted his eyes, pretending like it was nothing with him.

  “Hey you,” a hoarse voice called.

  It was the sailor. Fadan turned and the man widened his smile.

  “You lost?” the sailor asked.

  “I’m fine,” Fadan replied. “Thank you for the concern.” He averted his eyes once again.

  “Nice boots you got there,” the man insisted.

  Fadan looked down and realized his mistake. Before heading for the sewers, he had snuck into his bedroom to change his clothes. He had chosen something warm, dark, and simple. The idea was to blend into the crowd, of course. He had also grabbed a pouch of silver coins with which to buy the Runium, and lastly, a dagger, just in case something went wrong. But he had forgotten to change his boots. They were dark, sure, but they were also made of the finest leather, with silver straps and rivets. Not even the muddied water that had spilled over them made them shine any less. No commoner would ever wear something like that.

  “Thank you,” Fadan replied. “I enjoy them very much myself.”

  “I think I would enjoy them too,” the sailor sneered.

  Fadan felt his heart speed up a little, but stayed quiet, hoping the man would just give up and ignore him.

  “You didn’t hear me?” the sailor asked.

  “Oh, leave him alone,” one of the serving girls said, walking up next to Fadan. “What will it be, dear?”

  “Uh…” Fadan mumbled, “a beer, please.”

  “Please?” the woman said, surprised. “You hear that?” She wasn’t talking to Fadan anymore. “Boy has manners. And he’s pretty like a button.” She turned around and left, her wide hips bouncing. “I gotta find myself one o’these.”

  “Yeah,” a white bearded sailor said. “But you’d still need to find yourself a man!”

  Half of the tavern burst out laughing and Fadan felt his cheeks warm. At least, the sailor with the thick knuckles wasn’t staring at him anymore.

  The tavern woman returned a moment later with a wooden mug, brimming with frothy beer. Fadan thanked her and took a sip. It was by far the worst thing he had ever tasted, and that included Aric’s dares to try weird flowers from the Empress’ Orchard. Fadan was forced to summon all his strength in order not to grimace.

  “Will that be all?” the woman asked. “Maybe something to eat? We have the best pork stew in the Docks. Ask anyone.”

  Fadan was indeed hungry. He had skipped far too many meals that day. However, after tasting that beer, he wouldn’t dare to eat anything prepared in that place.

  “I’m not really hungry,” Fadan said. “Thank you.”

  “Alright then,” the woman said. “That’ll be a silver crown.”

  Fadan hesitated.

  A silver crown? he thought.

  There was no way he had any coin that small. He mumbled something incoherent as he rummaged through his pouch, trying not to draw too much attention to it. He finally found a smallish, twenty silver crowns coin.

  “Hum… listen,” he said, leaning closer to her. “I need some… information.” He showed her the coin, making sure no one else saw it.

  The woman frowned. “Information?” she asked, far too loud for Fadan’s liking.

  “Yeah…” Fadan whispered. “I need to buy something.”

  The woman took a step back. “All we sell here is food and drink,” she said flatly. “We have plenty of it, and you can obviously afford it. So, what’ll it be?”

  Fadan sighed. “Right,” he said, leaning back away from her. “I’ll… have some of that stew, I guess.”

  The woman swung around and left without another word.

  Stupid! Fadan admonished himself.

  Then, a body landed with a thump in the chair across from his. It was the thick knuckled sailor who had talked to him before.

  “Hello again,” the man said, taking a sip from his beer. “Couldn’t help but overhear.”

  For some reason, the man now had a rather pleasant smile about him.

  “Oh, I bet you could if you wanted to,” Fadan told him.

  “What?” the sailor asked, confused. “Never mind. I know what you’re looking for. You’re looking for a drink. But not the kind they sell here, am I right?”

  Fadan looked into the man’s beady, blue eyes. They made an eerie contrast with his leathery skin. He was obviously offering to help, but Fadan wasn’t sure he would like to be helped by someone like him. Problem was, what other kind of character would be involved in something as illegal and dangerous as the Runium trade?

  “Maybe,” Fadan said. “Why? Are you in the… ‘drinks’ business?”

  The man smiled with all his yellow teeth. “I knew it,” he said. “I always recognize your kind. Anyway, I am a… let’s say, ‘middleman’ in the drinks business. I don’t actually sell drinks, but I know who does.”

  “Ah, I see,” Fadan said. “And you’d be willing to introduce me?”

  “Not possible,” the sailor said. “You see, drink sellers, they’re cautious people.”

  “What is it you do then?”

  “Well, you pay me the price of the goods,” the man explained, “plus a small fee for my troubles. Then I go and fetch the merchandise and hand it to you.”

  Fadan chuckled. “You think I’m stupid?” he asked. “You’ll just run off with my money.”

  The man put on a frown. “No, you must think I’m stupid. You people can never have enough of that thing. I k
now sailors that can go longer without rum than your kind without….” He never finished his sentence. “Why would I waste a profitable, steady business from a fine patron as yourself?” He leaned back and motioned towards Fadan’s feet. “I mean, look at those boots.”

  That certainly made sense. The man did not look the least bit trustworthy, but he was clearly not an idiot either. Finding himself a frequent Runium buyer would be far more profitable than traveling the Saffyan route, and Fadan could certainly make it worth his while.

  “Alright,” Fadan said after a while. “We’ll make an experiment of it, see how it goes. If I’m happy with the transaction, I’ll be back for more, and I’ll even increase your fee.”

  The man opened his arms in celebration with a smile. “Excellent!”

  “You’ll find I can be a very generous patron,” Fadan told him. “If you keep your end of the deal.”

  “Believe me, I’m very much looking forward to that generosity. Now, head outside, turn left, and then take the second turn on your right. You’ll find this alley. It’s discrete and quiet. We don’t want anyone nosing around in our transaction. I’ll meet you there in a moment.”

  Fadan nodded in understanding. “And then what? I give you the money and wait for you there?”

  “Not for me, no,” the sailor said. “A third person will come by and hand you the goods. It might seem convoluted to you, but trust me, this is the safest way to conduct this type of business.”

  “Let me guess,” Fadan said. “That third person will charge me a fee as well?”

  The sailor shrugged. “That third person will be risking his neck as much as me,” he said. “He deserves pay.”

  “I won’t argue with that,” Fadan said. “As I mentioned before, I’m prepared to be generous.” He stood up. “Very well then. I guess I’ll see you in a bit.”

  The sailor raised his beer mug as if in a toast, and Fadan left, tossing the twenty crowns onto the table.

  Fadan felt a chill as he closed the tavern door behind him. A dog barked somewhere, but otherwise, the street was quiet. He followed the sailor’s instructions, realizing he hadn’t even asked the man’s name. But, then again, the less they knew about each other, the better.

  The alleyway was a muddied path squished between two abandoned houses. It smelled as bad as the sewers and was almost as dark.

  Fadan waited, pacing around a dark puddle until he finally heard sloshing steps. The sailor walked into the alley and smiled, only he wasn’t alone. Three men followed him, with clubs across their shoulders. Fadan took a step back.

  “I thought you’d be coming alone,” the Prince said.

  “Oh, me and these guys are inseparable,” the sailor replied. “We always do our business together.”

  The four men surrounded Fadan with hawkish stares.

  “I thought we had a deal,” Fadan argued. “A long-term deal.”

  “Well,” the sailor replied, “I understand your disappointment, but you should look at this as a learning experience. I’m actually helping you. In the long-term.”

  Fadan drew his knife. “Back off,” he warned.

  “Oh, cub’s got fangs!” the sailor jeered.

  All four men chuckled.

  “Listen, kid,” the sailor continued. “We don’t want to hurt you. All we want is that fat pouch of yours. Just toss it my way, and we’ll leave you be. As I said, it’s a valuable lesson for you.”

  “Never to trust people like you?” Fadan asked, circling to keep all his attackers in sight.

  “No,” the sailor replied. “I mean, yes, if you’re carrying enough money to buy a brand new ship.”

  Again, the sailors laughed.

  Fadan was going to reply something, but one of the men swung his club at him. Fadan parried the blow, but it left his back exposed and another of the attackers struck him on the back of the head. The world blurred and his ears started ringing. He staggered, swinging his knife blindly to keep the attackers at bay.

  Never let yourself get surrounded, his instructor’s words echoed in his mind. When outnumbered, funnel your opponents.

  Roaring, Fadan charged the sailor between him and the back of the alley. The man swung his club, but in a predictable angle, and Fadan ducked past him. He ran towards the wooden wall at the end of the alley, boxing himself between two piles of empty crates.

  The four sailors closed in on him, eyes narrowed. Two of them hopped onto each of the piles beside Fadan as the others moved head on.

  “Alright,” Fadan said. “I’ll give you the money.” He searched his pockets, hands shaking.

  Then, out of nowhere, a club smashed against his chest, followed by another blow on his knees, and another right across his head. Fadan collapsed, the alleyway spinning over him. He heard muffled voices, but couldn’t understand a word. Hands tugged at his jacket, his trousers, and his boots.

  Then, he heard yells as shadows moved around him until there was nothing but silence.

  “Are you alright?” someone asked. It wasn’t a voice Fadan recognized. “Hey, kid, can you hear me? Goddess damn it!”

  The spinning alleyway became darker and darker, and the stranger’s voice became farther and farther away until Fadan passed out.

  Chapter 10

  Tracker-Seeker

  There had always been plenty of people who didn’t like Aric. The Emperor was obviously probably at the top of that list, closely followed by Sagun, the Citadel’s Castellan. Then there was that cook that always pushed Aric out of the kitchens before he could finish swallowing his dinner, not to mention just about every Legionary he had ever come across. He had become so accustomed to being surrounded by people who didn’t like him it was almost weird not having to hide from any.

  In Lamash, he was just another recruit. Most senior Hunters loved to annoy recruits, cutting ahead of them at the food line in the dining hall, or making too much noise on the rare occasions Saruk allowed a nap. It was certainly irritating, but everyone could tell it was done in a spirit of camaraderie. It was the Guildsmen’s way of welcoming them into the family.

  Ashur, however, was a different matter altogether. He and Aric weren’t exactly enemies, the exercises demanded that they rely on each other far too often, but that didn’t mean they had to get along. In fact, Ashur had found the perfect attitude towards Aric – rivalry. For Aric, it was a baffling experience. Most of the times it felt preferable to being constantly harassed by Sagun, but it was also much more intense. Especially considering that they spent every moment of every day together. From the sparring lessons where Aric had learned to disarm Ashur in a few quick parries, to the races across the desert where Ashur would push Aric down the tallest dunes. Even in the mornings, when the Company woke up, Ashur always made sure to leave the dorm ahead of Aric, closing the door in Aric’s face just to slow him down a little. It was almost as intense as Saruk’s training itself.

  “Come on, hurry up!”

  There was only one thing that didn’t change in Saruk’s daily training– the morning sprint across the desert. The instructor was perched atop a small crag with Lamash standing starkly in the background.

  As the last members of the Company climbed the final feet of the small crag, Aric looked over his shoulder and counted the recruits lagging behind him. Every one of them felt like a small victory. Only Nahir, Leth, Clea, and Tharius were now faster than him, which was really impressive considering he had always finished dead last up until only a couple of weeks ago.

  Shoving aside everyone in his path, Ashur pushed up to the front as if that could change the fact that he was now among the slowest half of the Company. Aric was forced to hide a proud smile.

  “Does anyone here know how to find a Dragon?” Saruk asked as the gasping recruits lined themselves to face him. “Except Tharius.”

  Tharius lowered his arm with a disappointed look.

  “I’m serious,” Saruk continued. “One day you’ll learn how to kill a Dragon, but you have to find one first, and the Maha
r is a huge place.”

  “I always thought Dragons found us,” Clea said. “Aren’t they supposed to hear and smell us?”

  “That’s exactly right.” Saruk jumped down from his rocky pedestal and landed beside a large leather case, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows. “But that is also a problem for you. Anyone knows why? Lower your arm, Tharius.”

  Tharius obeyed with a sigh.

  “Because if we try to fight them out in the open, we don’t stand a chance?” Aric ventured, his arm half raised.

  “Exactly!” Saruk clapped. “So, if we can’t fight them out in the open, where do we fight them?” He picked up the bow and an arrow. “Go ahead, Tharius.”

  A smile swelled across Tharius’s face. “We ambush them in their own lairs.”

  “That we do,” Saruk said, nocking the arrow into the bow. “That we do.” He stretched the bow, released the string, and the arrow flew away, disappearing as it dove into the dunes. “Now, Tharius, if you answer the next question right, I’ll run down to the dunes and I won’t return until I find that arrow.”

  Everyone in the Company exchanged a hopeful glance. Saruk had spent the last month torturing them around the desert. A role reversal would sure be a welcome change.

  “Alright,” Tharius said, raising his chest.

  The others cheered him on.

  “Come on, volunteer,” Dothea told him.

  “Yeah,” Clea said. “Forget Aric. If you get this right, I’m voting for you to be our Captain.”

  Tharius blushed.

  “Let me make this more interesting,” Saruk said, nocking another arrow. “If Tharius gets it wrong, the lot of you will have to find these arrows for me.”

  He released the bow string and another arrow disappeared somewhere down into the sand.