The Dragon Hunter and the Mage

by V. R. Cardoso

  Chapter 13

  The Lessons

  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 gr
oup 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…

  “You’re late,” Sabium said as Fadan walked into the house.

  The old mage was sitting in an old rocking chair, its wood creaking each time he swayed himself back and forth. Candles burned here and there, casting flickering shadows across the entirety of the apartment.

  “I got delayed,” Fadan replied, closing the door. “This girl just wouldn’t let go of me.”

  “Poor you.”

  “It’s not like that,” the Prince said. “I wasn’t interested in her at all. I would’ve gotten here sooner if I had managed to ditch her, believe me.”

  “Well, you should’ve ditched me instead. I can promise you’ll regret you didn’t.” Sabium pushed himself up, cringing from the effort, then ambled to one his wooden chests. “Alas, that’s what youth is. An opportunity for stupidity.” He began rummaging inside the chest.

  “What is old age, then?” Fadan asked, annoyed. “Confusing hindsight with wisdom?”

  Sabium looked at Fadan, narrowing his eyes. “Yes,” he replied after a while. “And complaining a lot. Here, put this around your neck.” He handed Fadan a strange wooden necklace.

  Fadan obeyed. “What is it?” he asked.

  “A young Mage’s lifeboat,” Sabium explained.

  It was an ugly old thing. Unevenly shaped wooden plates with Glowstone shards encrusted on them, all tied together by rusty metal rings that looked about snap.

  “It’s called a Transmogaphon,” Sabium continued. “The spells on those shards will help me monitor your progress and, most importantly, keep you from killing yourself. You are to wear this anytime you practice Magic, especially if I’m not around, but be careful. Paladins are trained to recognize Transmogaphons. Conceal it as best you can.” Sabium grabbed a Runium flask from a drawer, drank half of it, and handed to rest to Fadan. “Bottom’s up.”

  Red strands swirled inside the metallic liquid as Fadan looked through the vial’s glass, frowning. The last time he had drunk Runium the experience had been less than enjoyable. The Prince took a deep breath, then swallowed the reddish liquid in a single gulp. A burning sensation spread though his body, and he began breathing out blue puffs. He braced himself for the overwhelming experience he had been through the last time, but nothing else happened. His vision remained the same, his mind stayed clear, and there was no loss of balance.

  “Surprised?” Sabium asked.

  “Yes…” Fadan replied. “The last time I felt… powerful. A little overwhelmed, but powerful.”

  “Powerful?” Sabium chuckled. “Well, wine will do that to you as well. It’s the Transmogaphon.” Sabium pointed at Fadan’s chest. The Glowstone shards were hueing powerfully. “It’s keeping you balanced, keeping the Runium’s effects in check. Which reminds me. Do you have a place to practice in the Citadel?”

  Fadan confirmed it with a nod.

  “Good,” Sabium continued. “Practice as much as you can, but always remember to bring the Transmogaphon back to me so I can recharge it. Each time I do, I will make the spells weaker, until there is no Magic in the Transmogaphon at all. This way, you will learn to control Runium and Magic intuitively.”

  Fadan nodded.

  “Now, some ground rules,” Sabium continued. “Rule number one. I talk, you listen. If you have a question, raise your hand, but never interrupt me. Never.

  “Rule number two. Don’t pretend you understand something if you don’t. You’ll be wasting both our times if you’re just waving your arms around like an idiot, not really sure what you’re supposed to be doing.

  “And finally, rule number three. Never be late again. I don’t care if half the damsels in the Empire are after you. I’m not one of your servants, and Magic isn’t your fresh new hobby. It is the grandest of human endeavors, and you will show adequate respect.” Sabium paused, but his frown did not soften. “Understood?”

&n
bsp; “Yes,” Fadan replied.

  “Yes, Master…” Sabium corrected.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Good. Let’s move on. I remember you saying you had a book on Magic, is that correct?” Sabium asked.

  Fadan nodded.

  “Then you must know a thing or two about Magic already,” Sabium said. “In theory at least.”

  Fadan smiled uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I don’t… To be honest, the book read like gibberish.”

  Sabium rolled his eyes. “Of course it did.” He began pacing along the room. “From the start then. What is Magic?” Obviously, no answer came from Fadan, but Sabium didn’t look like he was expecting one anyway. “Magic is the ability to manipulate, control, or change things, material or otherwise, through will alone. Conversely, Magic is not the ability to do it permanently. This is why spells stored inside Glowstone shards wear off with time. Yes?”

  Fadan’s hand had just shot into the air.

  “You said through will alone, but that’s not true,” Fadan said. “Runium is required.”

  Sabium stopped pacing. “Correct. Runium is the fuel which your will must burn for it to produce Magic. In fact, the amount of Runium in your system determines how much Magic you are allowed to cast. Simple spells, like moving a pebble, will consume very little Runium. Moving a mountain, on the other hand, would take more Runium than any man or woman could possibly consume.”

  “What about experience?” Fadan asked. “Are we able to learn how to use our Runium more efficiently with experience?”

  “Yes, and no. All beginners tend to be clumsy in the way they burn Runium, but it doesn’t require full mastery of the Magical arts to burn Runium at optimal efficiency. What experience, and most importantly, knowledge grants you is the ability to cast more sophisticated spells. You see, any idiot can set a house on fire, but it requires a degree of finesse to gently warm up every cup of tea in a party.”

  “So… how exactly do I do it?” Fadan asked.

  “We will begin with a simple exercise.” Sabium grabbed his rocking chair and dragged it in front of Fadan, then placed the empty vial of Runium on top of its seat. “I want you to move that flask.”