The Dragon Hunter and the Mage (14 page)

The Hunter was probably the strangest person Aric had ever seen. His clothes were a tapestry of metal and leather plates from which claws and fangs of all sorts of predators hung, along with feathers from exotic birds and other objects. His thighs were covered with overlaying steel plates. His hair had been shaven on the right side above his ear, but grew down to his shoulder on the rest of his head, braided through with metal rings and colored ribbons. Beside these decorations, the man carried as many weapons as an entire Legion. Aric counted five daggers, one katana, four throwing knives, and a hatchet. He was even wearing brass knuckles on his right hand, and apparently he had cut himself with every single one of those blades. His face alone had three scars, each longer than the other. One of them crossed his left eye which, inexplicably, was intact.

The Hunter must have noticed Aric staring at that scar. “We still had Mages back then,” he said. “A damned Physician would not have saved this eye.” 

Aric asked his name.

“Saruk,” he replied. “Volunteer. Back in my day, most of us were. You could make a lot of money hunting Dragons.” His voice was rough and deep as if it came from a dark, endless well. “Now that Runium is forbidden… let’s just say the Emperor should be more grateful that his skies haven’t seen a Dragon for centuries.”

Aric wondered how many Dragons this man had killed, but he was saved the question. Saruk wore the Hunters mark on his right arm. Under the fire branded V were ten triangles packed in a rectangle.

“Ten!” Aric blurted. “That’s a lot of Dragons….”

Saruk looked at his tattoo as if it was nothing.

“It’s only hard the first couple of times. Most Hunters die from lack of experience. After your fifth, you learn to deal with the panic. That helps.”

“How many survive until their fifth?” Aric asked. Maybe the stories about Dragon Hunters were a little exaggerated.

“Most never get to their third.”

“Oh….” 

Once again, Aric felt grateful he was escaping later that night but this time, it was different. In the middle of his relief, there was some guilt. After all, right beside him was a man who had volunteered to hunt Dragons. Hundreds of cities across the Empire could sleep peacefully at night thanks to men and women like him. Aric himself had never even seen a Dragon, and he could thank them for that.

He shook his head. There was no point in wasting time with those thoughts. Besides, Saruk himself had admitted that he had joined for the money, not some noble cause. But if that was the case, why hadn’t he left the Guild after the Purge?

When the sun finally neared the horizon and the sky became smeared in red, that very question was still hammering his mind. Was it pure altruism, and if it was, what did that say of himself if he ran from that duty?

Saruk stopped his horse and told him they would be sleeping by the roadside tonight. They were already in the desert, but there was still some vegetation here and there. Cacti and other kinds of bushes were spread around them like spilled beans across a kitchen floor.

It shouldn’t be long now. Aric caught himself scanning the landscape, hoping to find Corca hiding behind a rock. He scolded himself for that. Saruk could have noticed. It would have made him suspicious.

Aric decided to help the Hunter light the fire, and when the flames began to crackle he couldn’t handle his curiosity anymore.

“Why haven’t you left? If hunting Dragons isn’t lucrative any more than why stay? You’re a volunteer, you can leave.”

Saruk smiled with half his mouth. “What for?” he asked.

That was certainly not the answer Aric was looking for.

“What do you mean what for? In the desert, everything conspires to kill you. Even Eliran.”

“Eliran?” Saruk chuckled. “Eliran is a foolish story told by fools to frighten other fools. As for the desert….” He looked around, as if to an old friend. “It’s not more dangerous than the Western Sea or the Shamissai Mountains.” He tilted his head towards Aric. “Or the Citadel, wouldn’t you say?”

Aric was still not happy. “But you have to risk your life hunting Dragons. Ten or twenty Dragons worth of experience matter for nothing if one them spits a fireball on you.”

“That’s true,” the Hunter conceded as he finished skewering three sand sparrows. “But after you kill a Dragon… what else is there?” He paused. “After you go through the anxiety of entering a cavern, not knowing if the monster sleeps or is waiting for you, after you feel the panic of facing a creature the size of a fortress….” He stopped, looking like he was at a loss for words. “Can you imagine its tail, capable of splitting a boulder, crashing down on you? Can you imagine its claws, bigger than a man, burying themselves onto the rocky ground where you had stood moments before, its paws shaking the ground with every movement?” There was awe in his voice. “Nothing can prepare you for the moment you face your first Dragon, but nothing compares to the frenzy of watching it fall at your feet.” Saruk took a deep breath as if he was feeling it right then. “After that, what else is there in the world for you? It’s weird, I know but a man needs a horizon, something bigger than himself to look forward to, to follow or,” he shrugged, “to hunt.” Saruk turned his sparrow skewer and the fire crackled. “Besides….” He smiled. “If I left, my wife would shove a lance through my chest. She’s a Lancer,” he explained.

He had a wife? Aric didn’t even know Hunters married. On the other hand, why shouldn’t they?

They ate in silence for a bit, lit only by the fire now that night had fallen. Aric gave up thinking about what Saruk had said. After all, he would soon be on his way north again. It didn’t make any sense to worry about it now.

At that moment, he saw a shadow a few feet from Saruk. His eyes bulged, and he looked away immediately, fearing Saruk would notice something. To his satisfaction, the Hunter was still thoroughly focused on the bones of a sparrow he was chewing on.

This was it. He was finally going to escape. He had no idea how he would manage to contact his mother, but he would make sure Corca was well rewarded. It would be more than fair.

He casually glanced behind Saruk, who was still busy with his roasted bird. Corca’s shadow advanced carefully, without making a sound. Aric realized he was holding a knife, obviously aimed at Saruk’s throat.

What is he doing?!

Aric wanted to escape, sure, but not at the expense of the Hunter’s life. He tried making a gesture, but it came out too timid for fear of alerting Saruk. Corca was already on top of him, and Aric decided that he had no choice. He jumped and, to his surprise, Saruk did the same. With his back to Corca, the Hunter grabbed the arm holding the knife as if he had always known where it was. He disarmed the Paladin with a swift, invisible movement that ended with Corca laying on his back.

Aric took a step back. He could run. Saruk did not look to be in danger any more, but now Corca was.

Once again he was wrong. The Paladin rolled to his right, just in time to miss Saruk’s boot aimed for his face. It gave him enough time to stand back up. Without his knife, now in the hands of the Hunter, he unsheathed his sword and entered a guard stance.

Aric gave another step back, feeling that this was his chance. He could easily escape now, but his feet refused to move. “Easy!” he said. “There’s no need for this. Me and the Paladin can go and no one has to get hurt.”

Saruk chuckled. “You’re a Conscript of the Guild, boy. You’re not going anywhere.”

“The kid is right,” Corca said. “What do you care if he goes to your fortress or not? Are you going to die for a spoiled, useless recruit?”

“He’s one of my brothers, now. I’ll do what is best for him, whether he wants it or not.” He turned to Aric, but his knife stayed at the ready. “You don’t want to spend the rest of your life as a fugitive. Sooner or later you’ll find yourself in the gallows an
d‒
”

Corca tried to catch him off guard with a thrust to his head, and the phrase was left unfinished. Using the knife he had taken from the Paladin, Saruk parried the blow at the same time as he unsheathed a second dagger from his belt, striking at his opponent’s belly, all in one single, fluid movement. Corca managed to jump backward, evading the Hunter’s blade by the thickness of a hair.  

“I could use your help now, kid!” the Paladin said.

“Huh?” Aric wasn’t going to attack the Hunter. It wasn’t right.

“Listen, kid,” Saruk said as he charged with his blades drawing long arches. “I know who you are, and where you’re from.” His knives seemed to be everywhere. “In the Guild, we’re all equal. All brothers. The Guild can be the home and the family you never had. Don’t waste that.”

As he finished the sentence he struck a downwards blow so powerful it disarmed Corca and threw him to the ground, completely helpless.

Saruk raised one of his knives and Aric saw Corca lift a hand as if it could somehow stop the fatal blow.

“No!” Aric screamed. “I’ll go with you,” he promised.

Saruk froze. He looked at Aric and nodded, satisfied. Corca wasn’t as merciful. He grabbed a fistful of sand and threw it at the Hunter’s face. Blinded, Saruk staggered back, waving his blades randomly to his own protection.

The Paladin was quick. He recovered his sword, jumped back up and attacked the left flank of the hunter. Blood burst out from Saruk’s arm, and the knife it was holding fell to the ground. Still unable to see anything, the Hunter spun, trying to parry the next blow with his other dagger. Corca did the opposite movement, placing himself on the other flank, but when he raised his sword a burning log crashed into his face.

The Paladin released a grotesque scream and instinctively stepped back.

With the flaming log still in his hand, Aric yelled, “Run! Get out of here! Quick, before I change my mind.”

Corca did not need to be persuaded. He dashed away in a random direction, covering the burned flesh with his hands.

Aric dropped the log and turned to Saruk. The Hunter was still cleaning the sand from his face, but could already see through a slit in his watery eyes.

“Dragon Hunter…” Aric said in disbelief. “I’m going to regret this.”

Saruk smiled. “You have no idea…” 

Chapter 6

It took them three days to reach the mountain fortress. Three days under that merciless, scorching sun, the heat swirling up from the sand in waves. The “
never ending desert”,
they called it. It was a great sea of dunes under an ever clear sky, gold and blue for as far as far could be.

Night had fallen when they finally reached the home of the Dragon Hunters Guild turning the desert into a silver ocean beneath the moonlight. Lamash could be seen from miles away in any direction; four mountain peaks as tall as Demigods standing watch over the desert. Lights shone from the countless windows, balconies, and turrets draping the mountain. One of the peaks, wider and taller, stood proudly at the center, connected by long stone bridges to the other three.

A path wound up the mountain, leading to the main gate, and the sprawling dunes became smaller and smaller as they climbed.

The drawbridge opened, crashing against the rocky ground. There was no moat to cross, just a seven-hundred-foot drop into the cliffs at the base of Lamash. Aric had to force himself not to look down.

Their horses were taken by one of the sentinels, and Aric followed Saruk into the fortress. The entrance hallway was a series of archways. They marched between the slanted columns supporting the ceiling and their steps echoed a thousand fold. It felt like being inside a Dragon’s ribcage. The entire area had been carved from the cinnamon colored mountain rock, but the walls had been polished to a gleam. Everything was so sharp and angular Aric was sure he would cut himself if he leaned against a corner. Even the doorways stuck out like knives.

At the end of the hallway stood a glorious staircase that led them to the upper levels. They climbed it and went through a wide corridor until they arrived at a large, black door. Saruk knocked, and shortly after they heard someone granting permission to enter.

It was only a study but was as large as a dining hall. The walls were lined with shelves bursting with rolled parchments and books. Some of them were open on top of a large mahogany desk at one end of the room, but Aric’s attention was drawn to something else. A massive, rectangular table bearing the largest piece of parchment he had ever seen.

It was a map, detailing every pass, hill, or rocky crag in the Mahar. Small wooden sculptures patrolled it, each one like a toy soldier holding a flag with a number.

“Grand-Master,” Saruk greeted. “The new recruit I picked up in Nish. Aric, this is the Guild’s leader – Grand-Master Sylene.”

At first, Aric did not see who Saruk was talking about. The Grand-Master was in a corner, reading from a book. She turned, and her black braids danced around her shoulders.

“Another Conscript…” she said, placing the book down. “That’s all we get these days. I’m supposed to protect the Empire with vagrants and thieves.”

“I’m no thief, madam,” Aric replied.

An eyebrow jumped on the Grand-Master’s face and Aric felt Saruk’s hand squeeze his arm.

“You will speak when authorized, recruit,” the Grand-Master told him. She looked at Saruk. “At least, he has manners. I don’t remember the last time someone called me ‘madam’.”

“Well,” Saruk replied, “he is….”

“I know who he is.” She paced herself along a line of book shelves. “Is he going to be any trouble, Saruk?”

Aric clenched his teeth. He hated when people talked about him as if he couldn’t hear them. It reminded him of Sagun.

“I don’t think so,” Saruk replied. He looked at Aric. “He had his chance to run away… and didn’t.”

Grand-Master Sylene frowned. “He did?”

“Let’s just say,” Saruk replied, “the boy had a choice to make, and he made the right one.”

The Grand-Master crossed her arms, pondering Saruk’s words. She was very tall and lean, and wore black leather armor with a scorpion on her chest. The desert and her duties had clearly taken their toll, but she was remarkably beautiful nonetheless. She glanced at the table where the wooden Hunters stood watch.

“I don’t care where you came from,” she said, then looked him in the eyes. “It has no importance here. In fact, who you are, or even why you’re here will have no impact on your life as a Dragon Hunter. You’re one of us now. Any crimes you’ve committed or injustices you’ve suffered, they’re forgotten.”

She approached Aric and grabbed his shoulders tightly.

“Welcome to Lamash.”

Crackling torches flickered in every corridor and tunnel of the mountain fortress. Each of their steps echoed a thousand times.

“The dining hall is on the main level, where we came in,” Saruk explained. “These upper levels are the sleeping quarters.”

Wind drafts whistled here and there, even though all doors were closed and there was no window in sight. It was almost surprising to look up and not see dripping stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

“Why are so many of these doors locked?” Aric asked.

“They’re not locked, just closed,” Saruk replied. “There was a time when Dragons numbered in the thousands, and so did the Guild. But the world changed. Dragons no longer haunt the entire Empire. We’ve confined the scourge to the desert.” He shrugged. “So our numbers dwindle and our fortress becomes emptier every year.” They turned a corner into an ante-chamber of sorts. “Even more so ever since magic was forbidden. Dragon blood used to be the most precious commodity in the Empire, and now a single drop can send you to the gallows. Turns out that’s a terrible way to get new people volunteering to hunt Dragons.”

Saruk stopped in front of a large double door. Above it hung a tattered banner with the number twenty-three written in every language in the Empire. Aric could only read Arreline and Samehrian, but the Akhami and Cyrinian numerals were easy enough to understand.

“We’re here.”

Aric stared at the massive wooden door. “What’s on the other side?” he asked.

“Your Company’s quarters. The people you will spend the rest of your life with.”

That made Aric swallow dryly.

“They’re trainees, just like you,” Saruk continued. “The twenty third is a Company we are reforming. With you, it’s now only two recruits away from being at full strength. At that point, you will begin your Dragon Hunting training.”

Aric sighed.

“I don’t belong here…. I don’t even know how to hold a sword.”

“Trust me, nothing anyone could teach you outside this mountain could prepare you for a Dragon.” He paused. “Don’t try anything stupid again, kid. You won’t make it, and there will be a punishment this time.”

“I know… I just wished…. I don’t even know what happened to my father. Is he even alive?”

Saruk considered his words for a moment.

“How about this. The Grand-Master has contacts in the Citadel. She can find out, and she will if I ask her to. But you have to promise me that you won’t try to escape again, no matter the news. Agreed?”

Aric pursed his lips as if he wanted to forbid himself from answering, but he gave up with a massive sigh.

“Alright,” he said. “Agreed.”

Saruk pushed, and the door opened with a creak. On the other side, a Dragon skull the size of a cow greeted them with sword-like fangs. It hung from the ceiling, and Aric felt his breath leave him.

“Wow!” he let out.

Saruk smirked. “Congratulations,” he said. “Skully here scares the life out of most recruits the first time they see it. I’ve seen boys and girls older than you soiling their pants.”

“May I?” Aric asked with a hand frozen a couple of inches from the massive jaw.

“Sure. Skully doesn’t bite.”

The surface of the bone was smooth and shiny. It had obviously been polished for better preservation.

“This must be worth a fortune…” Aric muttered.

“Gold was never a problem in Lamash,” Saruk said. “Until Runium became illegal, of course. Come on, let me show you the place.” He signaled Aric to follow him. “This is the common room, the dorm is through that corridor,” Saruk explained as he pointed to his right. The Hunter pushed him through the dormitory’s threshold. The room was a large rectangle filled with bunk beds. There were five windows, but they had been closed for the night, so the only available light came from a couple of lanterns casting long, twisting shadows all over the place. Two young boys were playing dice on the floor, and a tall, black bundle of muscles was dripping sweat from what looked like the one hundredth push-up in a row. Everyone else was laying on their beds, some sleeping, the rest about to.

“Anyone still awake?” Saruk asked.

The question worked like an alarm bell. Everyone jumped to their feet, forming a double line along the row of bunks.

“Guess so….” The Hunter glanced around the trainees. “Goddess damn you, Tharius, how many times do I have to tell you this is not the freaking Legion. Stop saluting.”

A boy with bushy black hair and blue eyes lowered his arm.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said.

“And stop calling me sir,” Saruk replied. “From now on, I’ll make you run up and down the mountain each time you do that again, understood?”

“Yes… Instructor.”

“Good,” Saruk paused and faced the room as a whole. “This is Aric, your new fellow trainee. Make him feel welcome.” He grabbed Aric’s shoulder. “Good luck, kid. And welcome home.”

As the Hunter left everyone quietly returned to their beds, except for the boy named Tharius. He offered Aric a hand.

“Hi,” he said with a smile. “Are you a volunteer too?”

“No,” Aric replied, shaking the boy’s hand.

“I’m from Nosta. You?”

“Are there any free beds?” Aric asked instead. “I’m really tired.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tharius replied. “Those three are available. Just pick one.”

Aric thanked him and found one of the free beds. It was right across from another bunk where a boy was reading quietly.

With a sigh, Aric dropped his satchel and removed the only thing inside – the leather parcel containing the Glowstone and Dragon scales armor his father had gifted him. He untied the parcel and laid the cuirass on the straw mattress, running his fingers along the shiny scales. The incrusted shards of Glowstone hued like frost on a sunny winter morning.

Someone whistled.

“That’s beautiful,” Aric heard someone say.

He turned around. It was the boy across from him who had spoken. He had closed his book and was now sitting straight. He had long, sharp features and his hair was cut in the Akhami fashion, with long braids in some places and completely shaven in others. The hairstyle was quite similar to Saruk’s, except he didn’t have any feathers, fangs, or jewelry hanging from it.

“Family heirloom?” the Akhami asked.

“Yeah…” Aric replied.

It was more than just an heirloom, though. It was the only thing the Emperor hadn’t taken away from him, and that was probably only because the Emperor didn’t know about it.

“I’m Leth,” the Akhami said. “I know you didn’t ask, but Saruk already told us your name, so I thought we should take that out of the way.”

“Huh, ok,” Aric replied. “Thanks.”

Leth gave Aric a ‘don’t mention it’ nod and leaned back on his bed, resuming his reading. Intrigued, Aric glanced around Leth’s bunk. It had to be the neatest in the dormitory, probably in the whole fortress. It had a shelf attached to the bed, holding dozens of books as well as several statuettes, among them a dancing woman, a prancing panther, a bull’s head, and a small dragon. He was also wearing a silk tunic, far too expensive for any plebian.

Somewhere, someone blew out one of the lanterns and the dorm suddenly became near dark. Exhaling loudly, Leth closed his book and slid under the bed covers. Feeling his muscles ache from the trip, Aric decided to do the same, and soon the last lantern was extinguished, covering the dorm with darkness.

Despite being exhausted, he didn’t feel sleepy at all. The room had apparently accumulated so much heat during the day that it was as hot as though they were inside a baking oven. Was it going to be like this, every night?

Aric turned from one side to the other and tried every possible position, but sleep simply refused to come. The mattress felt weird and lumpy, the covers felt harsh and made him scratchy, not to the mention the countless snores coming from every direction.