The Dragon Hunter and the Mage

by V. R. Cardoso

  Flattened against the floor, he felt the heat of flames as they flooded through the windows.

  Then, as abruptly as they had come in, the flames stopped, replaced by a growl that made Aric’s belly turn to water. Expecting the entire creature to burst through the wall, Aric scrambled across the floor as far into the building as possible. The Dragon, however, did not come. Instead, wild screaming and yelling echoed from outside.

  No, not screaming, nor yelling. Those were battle cries.

  Right on time, Aric thought.

  He strode towards a window, hurrying back outside, but stopped at the threshold.

  Where’s the spear?

  Aric cursed as his head spun around, searching every corner of the room. The Dragon fire had destroyed the furniture inside, and charred pieces of wood smoldered everywhere.

  “There you are,” he let out, hurrying to pick up the lance.

  When he did, however, he found that the pole was broken in half. Dragon Hunter’s lances were built to be particularly long so as to give the Hunter some distance from the Dragon’s deadly paws. Now, all that was left was an arm’s length worth of spear, making it barely safer than a knife. …

  Well, it’ll have to do.

  Aric jumped out the window and found the Dragon whipping his tail back and forth at the Hunters behind. The narrow street kept it from circling around to face them. It had also become a much easier target. Arrows kept raining down on it, sending it into a blinding fit of rage.

  In fact, the creature was so distracted, its neck curved backwards, that it did not notice Aric as he emerged from the building.

  Taking a deep breath, Aric felt the weight of the spear in his hands and snuck closer to the Dragon. With its long neck stretching backwards, looking for the attackers harassing his hind legs and tail, the beast had left its chest wide open. It was perfect!

  Too bad the spear was now too short to reach that high…

  Well, why approach a Dragon if you can strike it from afar?

  Aric raised his arm and pulled the spear back, then hurled the half spear in the air, his entire body lending strength to the throw. The weapon flew away. It climbed and climbed until it carved itself right into the base of the Dragon’s neck.

  The whole world shook. Howling and roaring at the same time, the Dragon staggered, colliding into nearby buildings, its head swirling around madly.

  Walls crumbled all around, and a chimney crashed down right next to Aric. Bricks rained from every side, ricocheting to the ground. He felt a powerful blow between his shoulder blades, stumbled, lost his balance, and fell face first against the ground.

  Somewhere in the distance, a deafening roar shook his body. He tasted iron, and a rattle filled his brain as darkness swallowed him whole.

  Aric’s ears were ringing.

  Hunter!

  “Aric!”

  His nose and his mouth felt wet. He tried to move, but it was as if his entire body was made of led.

  Hunter!

  “Aric!”

  A burst of light flooded his eyes and the world came into focus. The first thing he saw was Geric, lavishly slapping his tongue across his face.

  “Are you alright?” Lyra asked. She was kneeling beside him.

  The rest of the Company was huddled around him, anxiously waiting for a reply.

  “Yeah…” Aric said, his voice as hoarse as if he hadn’t spoken in days.

  Pushing Geric’s tongue aside, he sat up, cringing as every bone and muscle in his body complained.

  “You are positively insane,” Leth told him. “Did you know that?”

  “I think you were brilliant,” Clea said cheerfully.

  Hunter, a voice rang in his head. Are you alright? Can you hear me?

  Yeah. Yeah… I’m okay. Aric replied.

  “It’s a miracle you’re alive, you know?” Lyra said. She sounded almost angry.

  “I’m fine,” Aric replied. “Just help me up, okay?”

  Leth and Ergon slid their arms under Aric’s and hoisted him up.

  It seems your plan worked, Aric thought. It still felt very weird to talk with his mind.

  I know. I’m in pursuit of Sohtyr as we speak.

  Who is he? Aric asked. Why did he attack the city? I think I deserve to know.

  You’re right, Eliran said. You do deserve to know. But not right now. I can’t afford to lose him.

  Do you need help? He’s obviously dangerous.

  Is that worry, Hunter?

  Aric felt an amused drumming in his skull that mildly resembled a chuckle.

  Don’t worry, Eliran said. We evil Witches can handle ourselves.

  So when will I see you again? Aric asked, but it was too late. She was already gone.

  “Dragon Hunters, I assume.”

  Aric turned around towards the voice. A tiny man wearing a colorful jacket and the largest golden pendant Aric had ever seen navigated between the wreckage as if he was trying to avoid getting dust on his pointy shoes.

  “We are,” Aric replied. “Who wants to know?”

  The man stopped and gave a flamboyant bow. “I am Kortush, Nish’s Master of Keys. His Lordship Narim Parvad, Imperial Governor of the city, demands your presence immediately.”

  “Really?” Aric asked. He turned to his Hunters, looking impressed. “I guess we get to be rewarded. Nice.”

  The Company smiled, exchanging proud looks.

  “I hardly think so!” Kortush said indignantly. “A Dragon in the skies of Nish? The whole Guild should drown in shame. His Lordship will see you immediately, and you better have a very good explanation for this.”

  Chapter 17

  The Infiltration

  Sabium waved Fadan inside with his usual, suspicious frown. The old man never really worried himself with making the Prince feel welcome.

  “Did you burn the book?” Sabium asked, shutting the door behind him.

  The Prince nodded his confirmation. “It’s done,” he replied. “I even took the opportunity to practice the fire spell.”

  “Good.” That seemed to relax the old Mage a bit. “You never know what sort of magic could be attached to that book.”

  “There was no Glowstone on the book though, master,” Fadan said. “I checked.”

  “You can’t know that. Glowstone can be powdered and hidden just about anywhere.” He moved to his desk and sat down.

  “Ah, clever,” Fadan said. “And fire can destroy Glowstone?”

  “High temperatures will render the crystals useless, yes,” Sabium explained. “If the book has burned, it is no longer a threat.”

  “I see. But I still don’t get what makes these people so dangerous.”

  “They’re fanatics,” Sabium replied. “That’s what makes them so dangerous.”

  “So what? Who cares what they worship?”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sabium argued, opening one of the books piled in front of him.

  “Because you haven’t explained it to me!” Fadan said. “I know next to nothing about the Academy. How am I supposed to know anything about their creepy cousins?”

  “I don’t really have the time right now,” Sabium muttered, his eyes scanning the pages in front of him. “You really think you found that book just by chance? It was planted for you to find it and I need to figure out why.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, master. Even I didn’t know I had the Talent when me and Aric stumbled into the book. And even then, I couldn’t make any sense of it.”

  Sabium raised his head from the book. “I find it very hard to believe that a member of the Circle would just ‘forget’ one of their forbidden books in the Imperial Palace. In fact, what would an Archon even be doing in the Citadel in the first place?”

  “A what?” Fadan asked.

  “Archon,” Sabium repeated, returning to his study. “It’s what they call themselves. They despise the term Mage. For them, it is a synonym for heretic.”

  “It doesn’t make sense.
How can these… ‘Archons’ be such a big secret?” Fadan asked. “I mean, who else knows about them? Does my father? Because if they’re dangerous–”

  “He probably does not,” Sabium said, cutting Fadan off. “The Circle’s existence was a very well-kept secret. By both the Circle and the Academy.”

  “Why would the Academy keep them secret?”

  “The Circle was born inside the Academy,” Sabium replied. “They were Mages who felt Magic was a gift from the gods, so they searched for answers among the sacred texts. They were obsessed with excavations of holy sites and relics. They shunned the Academy’s scientific pursuit of knowledge. Their vision for the magical community was of a religious order, not a place of learning. There was a divide, and eventually, they were cast out. They became an embarrassment, but were not seen as a threat.”

  “Wait,” Fadan said. “Before, you were saying they aredangerous. But now you’re saying‒”

  “Because they always were a threat!” Sabium interrupted heatedly. “They just weren’t seen as one because of their relatively small size. It is always easier to pretend like a problem doesn’t exist instead of facing it and fixing it. Especially if that problem makes sure to remain out of sight, which is what they did for centuries. The problem, young Prince, is that the world has changed. The Mages are gone. Your father got rid of them. Which means there’s no one left to keep the Circle in check.” Sabium massaged his temples, his eyes closed. “It’s only a matter of time before their agenda comes crashing down on the rest of us, because believe me. What the Circle of Archons wants involves us all.”

  “Which is?” Fadan asked.

  Sabium sighed, reopening his eyes. “This is a matter for old Mages, not young Princes. I need to do some research. In the meantime, you can practice.”

  “You want to me to just stand back here and practice all by myself?”

  “No, Goddess, not here,” Sabium said. “You’ll distract me. Get back to your Palace. Practice there.”

  “I just came from the Palace,” Fadan said.

  “I know,” Sabium told him. “Now go back.”

  The Prince exhaled impatiently, placing his hands on his hips, but eventually turned, cursing beneath his breath, and left for the apartment door.

  “And young Prince?” Sabium called.

  Fadan turned to his master.

  “Try not to lose an arm, please.”

  A group of five maids twirled back and forth around the Empress like butterflies competing for a flower. A couple of the maids focused on turning Cassia’s dark hair into luscious, thick curls. A third maid played with shades of pink on the Empress’ lips and cheeks. A fourth one fixed every small imperfection of the dress while the fifth and last maid sprayed delicate puffs of perfume around Cassia.

  Venia found the ritual almost beautiful. She watched it from across the room, her hands crossed in front of her. The Akhami Castellan, Sagun, stood beside her, nodding his approval.

  “Excellent,” he said as the last touches were applied. “The Emperor shall be pleased.”

  Venia saw Cassia inspect herself in the mirror, but she knew the Empress was only pretending to care how she looked like. If it had been up to her, Cassia would have gone to dinner every night looking like a beggar from the Docks.

  “It will do,” Cassia said.

  Venia had always found it spectacularly impressive how, despite her humiliating condition, the Empress always maintained a regal bearing around others. She had seen the Empress’ mask slip, of course, but that was because Cassia trusted her. In public, however, the woman somehow always found the strength to not falter, especially around her children.

  Venia hadn’t always been loyal to Cassia, of course. She had originally been placed among the Empress’ maids to spy on her. However, it hadn’t taken Venia long to become a double agent. Cassia hadn’t been surprised when Venia revealed herself a spy – the Empress had always suspected that her husband would want to know what she did in private – but she did become tremendously grateful. Venia didn’t just feed the Emperor with fake reports, she was also Cassia’s eyes and hands, making it possible for the Empress to do things Tarsus forbade her to even imagine.

  Lately, however, even Venia hadn’t been able to maintain what was left of the Empress’ world from falling apart. As if the poor woman hadn’t been through enough as it were.

  “I’ll be down momentarily,” Cassia said. “You may all go. Except Venia. I want you to help me with my shoes.”

  “Yes, your majesty,” the spy said, lowering her head.

  Cassia received a curtsy from the other maids and a bow from Sagun, after which the Castellan shooed the maids out of the room, leaving after them and closing the door behind him.

  The Empress exhaled with disgust, her whole body deflating slightly. “You have news?” she asked, heading for a chair.

  Venia cleared her throat. “I do, your majesty.”

  “What is it?” Cassia asked, sitting down and grabbing a pair of shoes.

  “I… I found out who’s helping your son,” Venia said.

  Cassia slipped her foot into a shoe. “Oh, who is it?”

  “Lord Fabian Lagon,” Venia replied. “I saw them chatting last night. In the Empress’ Orchard.”

  “Fabian?” the Empress asked, her other shoe dangling in her fingers. “Are you sure it was him? I don’t think he is a spy…”

  Venia chuckled. “Trust me, your majesty. He is.”

  “If you say so,” Cassia replied with a shrug. She slipped on the second shoe and stood up. “Well, let’s go.” She took a deep breath. “My husband awaits.”

  The Empress started towards the door, but Venia stopped her. “There’s more.”

  Cassia turned. “What is it?”

  “I found… something else,” Venia replied.

  The Empress frowned. “You’re hesitating… Something bad happened. What is it? Is Fadan alright?”

  “He’s fine,” Venia replied, raising a soothing hand. “But I found out something important. Yesterday, I managed to follow your son to his hiding place, here in the Citadel. He is using one of the abandoned Palaces.”

  “Using it for what?” Cassia asked.

  “It took me some time to figure out which Palace he was in, so by the time I got to it, the Prince was already gone,” Venia said. “However, he left something behind. A bucket, with a book burning inside.”

  “What!?” Cassia was thoroughly confused.

  “I didn’t bring the book,” Venia said. “I decided it was better not to give him any clue that he’s been discovered. It would prompt him to change his hiding place. I allowed the book to burn so he could find its ashes upon return, but I did discover what the book was about.” Venia took a step forward. “Your majesty, I believe your son possesses the Talent. He is trying to learn magic.”

  It usually took Fadan around an hour to go to Sabium’s apartment in the Docks, which meant he spent two hours just crossing the city every night he visited his master. Two hours he had completely wasted tonight with his fruitless visit.

  He climbed out of the sewage manhole inside the Citadel and studied the night sky. He hadn’t exactly left early for Sabium’s, which meant it had to be really late. For a moment, he considered calling it a night and taking the opportunity for a few hours of sleep, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He couldn’t let an entire night go wasted. Not when he had been making so little progress.

  Pushing back a yawn, Fadan started towards the Palace. He was going to spend a few hours practicing if he could remain awake. Usually, the empty Palace was where he did his practicing sessions, but he felt like his own room was a better idea this time. His plan was to attempt the wall traversing spell, which wasn’t entirely safe to do on his own. Being somewhere where he could cry for help in case something went wrong seemed like a prudent idea. Besides, it was a silent spell that made no noise or flashes of light. It should be safe enough to practice in his bedroom.

  Fadan strode throug
h the usual way back to his room, then climbed up to his window. Fabian always kept the way clear of any unwanted eyes. How the old general did it, however, was a complete mystery.

  “Alright,” Fadan said to himself, closing the window and pushing his sleeves up. “Let’s work.”

  The Prince lit a couple of oil lamps, then double checked the lock on his bedroom door. Still not satisfied, Fadan picked up a chair and fitted its back under the door handle, blocking it from being pushed open.

  Satisfied with his security measures, he removed his dark cloak and grabbed a vial of Runium from one of its inner pockets, then downed the metallic red liquid in a single gulp.

  He felt the familiar, burning sensation, quickly offset by the Transmogaphon around his neck. Breathing small blue puffs, Fadan tested his powers. It was a small ritual Sabium had taught him that helped him adapt his mindset. The idea was to teach his brain to switch from regular life rules to magic rules. From that moment on, anything was possible.

  “I can do this,” he told himself, eyes closed.

  Fadan had learned that magic was a tricky business. A single fraction of a moment of doubt and the spell was gone, sometimes, literally up in smoke. The problem was that most spells weren’t as intuitive as moving an object. Causing fire, for instance, was more of an intellectual process. He had to imagine objects and substances and what particles they were made of. Then, he had to visualize them heating up by friction while providing the right amounts of fuel and oxidizer to maintain the required flame and so on. It was a deeply rational thing that required tremendous amounts of previous study of the physical world, which conflicted with the deeply irrational feat that was believing it was possible.

  No, not just possible. That it was actually happening as he visualized it in his mind. It could be as frustrating as it was overwhelming.

  Fadan tried to relax, shaking his arms and steadying his breathing.

  This is easy, he thought. I’ve done it before. Well, kind of… No, stop it! No doubts.

  “Ah crap!” he heard himself say, punching his bed’s mattress.