The Dragon Hunter and the Mage

by V. R. Cardoso

  Fadan’s eyebrows jumped in the air. “Using my will?” he asked skeptically.

  “Using your will,” the old Mage echoed.

  “Alright,” Fadan said, relaxing his arms. “Here goes…”

  A slew of wrinkles appeared on the Prince’s forehead as he frowned and gritted his teeth. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the tiny piece of glassware.

  Move, he thought.

  “No, no, no,” Sabium said. “I don’t even need to read your mind to know you’re doing it wrong.”

  “You can read my mind?” Fadan asked, suddenly worried.

  “I’ll teach you how to protect yourself from that later, but don’t worry, I’m not doing it. I can tell you’re giving orders. Don’t you see how ridiculous that is? Even if you could already perform a spell as complex as telepathy, that is a flask. An inanimate object. It can’t understand human language. You have to will it.”

  “What does that even mean?” Fadan asked heatedly.

  Sabium raised his hands. “Alright, calm down,” he said. “There’s no need for this to be frustrating.”

  Oh really? Fadan thought. Who would’ve known…

  Calmly, Sabium walked behind Fadan and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Close your eyes. Try to visualize the chair in front of you. Do you see it?”

  “Sure…”

  “Imagine it exactly as it is. How far away is the chair from you?” Sabium asked.

  “A couple of feet,” Fadan replied.

  “Very good. Now I want you to visualize the rest of the room. The hardwood floor beneath our feet, stretching towards the chair. The cabinets lining the walls. The bed at the other end of the room. Do you see it?”

  “I do,” Fadan replied.

  “Excellent,” Sabium said. “Now, visualize the vial sliding across the seat of the chair. It doesn’t matter which direction it slides, just chose one at random and watch it move. That’s right, very good.” He slapped Fadan on his back. “Now open your eyes.”

  Fadan obeyed, and his jaw dropped. The flask had moved a couple of inches to the left and was now teetering on the brink of falling to the ground, just as he had pictured in his mind.

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Sabium asked.

  “I… I moved it,” Fadan mumbled.

  “You certainly did,” Sabium said, stepping towards the chair. “I actually expected you to shatter the flask. It’s what most people do on their first attempt. Don’t let that go to your head, though. Some of my best students showed no potential whatsoever when they were beginning, and I can also remember a couple of worthless Mages who could have rearranged this whole room’s furniture on their first lesson.”

  “So, you mean each Mage has a different amount of… what, aptitude?” Fadan questioned.

  “Oh yes,” Sabium replied. “We are all made differently. Some of us are smart, some of us are dumb as a doorknob. Some of us have a knack for music, others for physical tasks. Why would it be any different with Magic? Having the Talent means you can use Runium for more than just hallucinating, but not all Mages are equally powerful. Some people are born to be Arch-Mages. Others will never be more powerful than the average Novitiate.”

  Fadan nodded. That certainly made sense. “What was your rank?” he asked.

  Sabium grabbed the chair and dragged it back into its place, staring at nothingness. “I was ordained Grand-Sorcerer, first class, three weeks before the Purge edict was issued.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s carry on. I want to teach you to cast fire. The technique is‒‒”

  Sabium was interrupted by a cacophony of tumbling crates and cracking wood from outside the apartment. Both Sabium and Fadan froze.

  “You were followed,” Sabium hissed.

  Fadan shook his head. “No,” he said. “That’s not possible.”

  “This was stupid,” Sabium growled, marching towards the door with a closed fist and a blue aura glowing around him. “We’ve doomed us both.”

  “I…” Fadan staggered back. “It can’t be.”

  Sabium grabbed the door knob, sparks flying from his free hand. He swung the door open, far too fast for his age, then jumped outwards.

  “You?” Sabium asked.

  Fadan stood on the tip of his toes, trying to look outside, but saw nothing besides the dark shape of his master. Someone replied something inaudible, and Sabium turned around to face Fadan.

  “Look who came for a visit,” the old Mage said, pushing someone’s bulky shape into the house.

  Alman came stumbling in, looking like a brat that had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

  “You were supposed to stay away,” Sabium added, this time speaking to his brother.

  Fadan shook his head, crossing his arms. “I knew it… I shouldn’t have trusted you.”

  “I was just curious,” Alman said. “I wanted to see how you were doing, that’s all. I wasn’t going to interrupt or anything.”

  “Except you did,” Sabium grumbled, sinking into his chair.

  “Well, I tripped,” Alman said. “Have you seen the mess you have outside? You should really tidy up a bit.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Fadan said, walking to a corner and picking up his cloak. “I’m leaving.”

  “No!” Alman begged. “I’ll leave. You stay.”

  “There’s no point you know?” Fadan said. “You think you can persuade me to join your rebellion? I know that’s why you want me to learn Magic, but you’re wasting your time.”

  The Prince stormed to the door, but Alman stepped in front of him. “Please wait,” the old man said. “You’re right… I shouldn’t have come, but there is nothing for you to be mad at. I do want you to join us, but only to do what you already plan to.”

  Had the old man lost his mind?

  “What are you talking about?” Fadan asked. “I have no intention of conspiring against my father.”

  “I’m talking about releasing Doric and the other prisoners,” Alman replied. “The rebellion is planning a rescue operation.”

  “A rescue operation?” Fadan asked. “In the Citadel dungeons? Are they mad?”

  “Are you?”

  “That’s completely different,” Fadan said. “I’m the Prince. I’m supposed to be in the Citadel.”

  “But not in the dungeons,” Alman said. He stepped towards Fadan. “You and your brother already tried to release Doric once and failed. You need our help.”

  Fadan stepped away from Alman. “How do you know that?”

  “We have an agent in the Paladins,” Alman replied. “We know the guard rotation, what cells the prisoners are being kept in, I could even tell you what they had for breakfast yesterday. We already have a plan, but we’re missing someone else on the inside. Someone who knows the Citadel and can move freely about. Someone who could hide us in one of the empty Palaces both before, and after the rescue.”

  “After?” Fadan asked, confused.

  Alman smiled. “Exactly,” he replied. “Hiding. That’s what you and your brother did wrong. You went for the exits, and that’s exactly what they were counting on. The moment the alarm was sounded, you had only one shot at not being found.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Fadan said, but he didn’t sound too sure of himself. “They will look everywhere, even the empty Palaces, I’m sure.”

  “Are you? If you could keep us supplied with food and water, we could remain hidden under the Emperor’s nose until the dust settled. It might take a week, maybe a month, who knows, but it could be done. And in the meantime, the Paladins will be running around like headless chickens, trying to find us in all the wrong places.”

  The Prince did not reply. He shuffled his feet, his hands fidgeting restlessly, then glanced at Sabium, who refused to return his gaze.

  “I’m…” Fadan sighed, turning back to Alman. “I’m sorry. It just feels wrong. I can’t help you. You’ll need to find someone else.” He looked at Sabium once again. “Am I excused, Master?”

  The old Mage gave
Fadan a wave and the Prince fled out the door without so much as looking at Alman, leaving the two siblings alone in the twilight of Sabium’s candles.

  “You just couldn’t give it up, could you?” Sabium asked after an overlong pause.

  “No,” Alman replied, heading for the apartment’s door. “That would be your department.” He slammed the door behind him.

  Chapter 14

  The Blood Carriers

  Aric’s first day as Captain of the twenty third Company had begun mostly without incident. Saruk had decided that they should start out slow, giving Aric a simple, half-day desert patrol. Nothing the recruits couldn’t handle. Aric’s troubles, however, had more to do with his unexpected encounter the previous night.

  All recruits had gathered at the fortress’s main gate, getting ready to roll out, when Leth tried to give Aric a morning greeting. Without stopping his inspection of the Company’s gear, Aric simply looked the other way and pretended not to hear him.

  Soon, the Company was on the move and Aric got to empty his mind with the race across the sand and the vastness of the desert. It was funny how a place this dangerous could feel so calm and peaceful. Later, during a short resting pause under the shadow of a tall ridge, Leth approached Aric.

  “Can we talk?” he asked.

  “Pull your scarf up,” Aric replied. “You’ll dehydrate faster if you don’t cover your mouth.” Then he turned his back and signaled the Company to move out.

  Leth, however, wasn’t about to give up that easily. The patrol ended shortly before nightfall. As soon as they arrived, some of the recruits dove straight for the water fountain in the fortress’s lobby while others shook sand off their clothes. Leth neared Aric as he took off his weapons and laid them in a small pile.

  “Aric?” Leth said. “Aric, can we please talk?”

  Leth received only a quick glance.

  “Tharius,” Aric called. “You’re on weapons duty today. Get everyone’s blades to the storage room.” He received a ‘Yes, Captain’ then turned around and walked away.

  Groaning, Leth chased him. “I was talking to you,” he said. “I know you heard me.”

  “Yeah,” Aric replied at last without slowing down. “I’ve noticed your sudden interest in talking,” he said. “Too bad you didn’t feel like that sooner.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Leth asked.

  “Well…” Aric said as he began to climb the great staircase leading to the dining hall. “You had plenty of opportunities to let me know about you and Clea. But I suppose it was a lot more fun to watch me make a fool of myself.”

  “There was nothing to let you know about when we last talked.”

  “Oh no, of course not,” Aric said. “The two of you just developed a relationship overnight.”

  “Actually, yes. That’s kind of what happened.”

  Aric rolled his eyes so far up they nearly disappeared into the back of his head. “Right,” he said, turning his back on Leth and pushing the door to the dining hall open.

  “Will you grow up for a moment?” Leth asked.

  “Oh, so now I’m a child?” Aric chuckled. “Is that because I thought I could trust you, or because I asked for your advice?”

  “Listen to me,” Leth said, stabbing Aric’s chest with a finger. “I did nothing wrong.” At that moment, the rest of the Company walked into the dining room as well and Leth was forced to lower his voice. “You’re mad at me because you like a girl and she chose me instead. Well, I’m entitled to like her as much as you, so deal with it.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  It was Clea. She had walked up behind Leth. Aric froze, unable to answer.

  “Everything’s fine,” Leth assured her. “We were just… discussing an issue with today’s patrol.” He turned to Aric. “Will you take what I’ve said into consideration, Captain?”

  Aric didn’t reply right away. “I don’t think we were talking about the same issue. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m getting something to eat.”

  Aric mindlessly filled a tray with flat bread, dried dates, and some cheese he didn’t even like. Calculating how far he could sit away from Leth, he walked to the Company’s usual table to find them huddled around something instead of sitting down as always.

  “Is anything wrong?” Aric asked.

  “Look Aric,” Clea said. “Tharius found it in the weapons storage room.”

  “It was on one of the top shelves,” Tharius confirmed. “Behind a whetstone.”

  Pushing Prion out of the way, Aric found what that fuss was all about – a Lagaht board.

  “I bet you and Leth are really good at it,” Tharius told Aric, his eyes gleaming.

  “Yeah,” Clea agreed. “It would be really exciting to see a match between two serious players.”

  “What do you expect will happen?” Leth asked Clea and Tharius. “Just because we’re nobles doesn’t mean fireworks will go off every time we make a move. Besides, I don’t think Aric will want to play.”

  “Aww, I’m sure he would,” Clea said. “Wouldn’t you Aric? I bet you would love to beat Leth’s ass.” She smiled.

  It made Aric smirk. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind that.”

  “As if…” Leth said, shaking his head.

  “You think you can beat me?” Aric asked.

  Leth didn’t answer right away. Slowly, he looked at Aric and said, “Wouldn’t be the first time I beat you at something.”

  Aric’s eyes narrowed. “Tharius, take the board out.”

  There was a collective cheer. Clea even clapped. The two players sat across from each other as Tharius placed the Lagaht board between them. The Company gathered around, and even some senior Hunters eating nearby joined them, looking curious.

  “Looks fancy, doesn’t it?” Tharius said, placing the game’s contents over the table.

  “Looks like Samehrian dung,” Leth replied.

  Aric was forced to agree. This was certainly not the kind of board made for a Duke or an Emperor. It was an ugly old thing, with washed out paint and ridiculous woodcraft. The horses had bulgy, disproportionate eyes; the spears looked mostly like swords, and the swords looked mostly like spears. Not to mention that every single piece was chipped in places or outright missing something. Its problems, however, weren’t merely esthetic.

  The deck of spell cards, for example, was extremely small, with only forty cards, the bare minimum allowed in a Lagaht board. The cards themselves were also as bland as Lagaht spell cards could get. Aric flipped through the deck three times and didn’t find a single one that could really make a difference. Then, there was the layout of the board itself; an extremely basic design with only a couple of choke points. The sort of board that would make for predictable matches after a while. Still, since none of them had ever played in it, that shouldn’t be much of a problem. And, at the very least, it did look fairly balanced.

  Well, at least this way, he can’t complain about luck.

  That had always been Fadan’s excuse. What Fadan had never known, however, was that Aric had read just about every single book on Lagaht in the Citadel’s library. Some of them twice.

  “I shuffle; you break?” Leth asked.

  “Sure.”

  The cards moved swiftly between Leth’s fingers. He obviously had a lot of practice. Then, with a thump, Leth placed the deck down and Aric broke it. It was a rushed movement, and Aric regretted it immediately. He had just split the deck into two highly uneven piles. One being at least twice as big as the other.

  Leth chuckled. “Well, well… Someone’s feeling confident,” he said. “Suit yourself, I’m not stupid.” He promptly grabbed the taller pile of cards.

  Making a huge effort to hide his gritting teeth, Aric grabbed the remaining pile of cards and flipped through them. Thirteen cards. Thirteen lousy cards. It didn’t give him much choice, considering he could only keep ten. Still, there wasn’t any point in complaining now. The overall quality of the deck was so bad that the lack of choice would hard
ly make much of a difference.

  After discarding the three spell cards he felt were least useful, Aric began laying out his pieces on the board. He picked the blue pieces, took them out of their wooden case, and then used the case as a blind, to keep Leth from peeking at his formation.

  Aric had decided on a strategy the moment he had seen the board, so it didn’t take him long to knock on the table, signaling he was ready. It also meant he would get to move first. Leth, on the other hand, had decided to take his time. He carefully placed his pieces one by one, arranging and rearranging them over and over again.

  “Think you’ll be ready before dawn?” Aric asked.

  “I’m almost done.”

  Aric made a sleepy face and pretended to yawn.

  “Only fools trade moving first for a better starting position,” Leth retorted.

  It made Aric roll his eyes. This was typical of players who thought they were better than they really were. Fadan was the same, confusing indecision with thoughtfulness.

  At last, Leth signaled he was ready and the two of them revealed their formations. Leth had clearly gone for an aggressive approach, with most of his horses at the front.

  He’s going to rush for the choke point, Aric thought.

  The logic was sound. Controlling that choke point was key to victory on a board like this and horses did have the most movement of all three kinds of pieces. But without cover from other units, horses were useless. Aric’s spears would make short work of those horses if they found them isolated.

  Which means he built a hand to protect horses.

  And there it was. Leth hadn’t even made a move and Aric already knew exactly how the game would play out. This was the problem with players like Fadan and, apparently, Leth. They always overplayed their smartness.

  The initial rounds played out without incident as both armies marched forward. As predicted, Leth moved his cavalry forward, rushing to the choke point.

  Not wishing to disappoint him, Aric sent some spears to meet Leth’s horsemen.

  Always good to allow an enemy to commit to the wrong strategy.