The Dragon Hunter and the Mage (2 page)

The moon was so full and bright that no one had remembered to light up the torches in the courtyard. Eliran was happy for that, at least. She had no idea what she would do, or where to go, but at least, they wouldn’t have to feel their way across the alleys. Dormitory number eighteen was sitting in a circle, singing softly. She looked at her own dormitory girls and wondered if they should do the same, if maybe singing could distract them. They were looking around, eyes lost as if they were waiting for someone to arrive. Maybe they still believed someone would come and tell them that it had all been a big mistake, that everything was going back to normal.

A Wizard in a dark blue tunic came through the door that led to the kitchens, baths, and latrines.

“Dormitory number eighteen, come with me.”

The chant of the twelve boys died awkwardly and they stood up. Allard, their delegate, glanced at Eliran. There was fear in his big blue eyes, but still the boy found the courage to smile at her.

“IN THE NAME OF TARSUS V, OPEN THE GATES!”

Tersia pushed the boys from dormitory eighteen into the corridor, and a dozen Wizards hurried to the main gate. They heard the crash of a battering ram pounding against the wood and Eliran watched Pherlam approach the apprentices that were still left. She had always thought that he looked too young for a Headmaster, but the school of Niveh was famous for its illusion spells, and she suspected that his looks were probably not entirely his.

The voice from outside spoke with the authority of someone reading instructions. “Open the gates, surrender, and you will be treated in accordance with the law!”

“What are these apprentices still doing here!?” Pherlam asked.

“We can’t make them leave all at once,” Tersia replied.

“Well, we can’t have them in here for much longer, so get them out. Now.”

Once again, the thundering sound of the battering ram echoed across the courtyard and Pherlam returned to his post. Tersia called the remaining two dormitories, glancing anxiously at the Wizards gathering in front of the main gate and the apprentices surrounded her.

“We can’t wait another half hour,” she said.

Eliran’s heart suddenly became much heavier.

“We will have to get you all out at the same time. Try to separate as soon as you reach the river. Dormitory nineteen goes one way, dormitory twenty goes another.”

As she finished her sentence a burning projectile crashed in the courtyard, breaking and spreading its fuel everywhere. Some Wizards put the small fires out with a hand wave as if dismissing them, and while they did the furniture blocking the gate jumped with another blast from the battering ram.

Tersia put a soft hand on Eliran’s face and every hair on her body stood up.

“Now, go.”

The Wizard with the blue tunic signaled them to follow him, and Eliran felt Tersia’s hand pull her back. The Arch-Mage dropped a scroll of parchment in her hand.

“This is for you, and only you,” Tersia told her.

Eliran didn’t even have time to ask a question before Tersia turned her around and pushed her after the rest of her dormitory girls. At that moment, she was sure her heart forgot to beat, but she stepped forwards nonetheless.

The dark corridor swallowed them, and suddenly several tiny blue lights flickered into existence. Low ranking Wizards were lining the walls, each holding a sphere of light. Eliran knew that spell.

“Go on, little ones,” encouraged one of the Wizards.

They went through two hallways, past the access to the cantina, and once they arrived at the latrines, the corridor officially became a sewer. They stepped down a ladder and landed on a tunnel whose floor was a knee deep river, the noxious smell rising around them. There was one last Wizard down there, and he pointed in one direction.

“Go that way,” he said. “The exit to the river is right beneath a bridge, so you will have to dive in the water and swim to the other side. There you will find a small dock.”

The delegate of dormitory twenty stepped forward determinedly and his boys followed him, but Eliran hesitated. She looked back at the Wizard and realized that he couldn’t be much older than her. Two, three years at maximum. Eliran herself should graduate within a year.

“I should stay and fight beside you.”

The Wizard took a little while to reply. There was no despair in his eyes, but there was no hope either.

“You can’t help us… but you can help them.”

Flara, a nine-year-old novice, grabbed Eliran’s sleeve and pulled, somewhat brutishly.

“Eli, please….”

“Eli, come with us,” Rissa sobbed.

Eliran sighed. She smiled at them and told them not to worry. She took Flara and Rissa by the hand and took them away, looking back over her shoulder to see the Wizard climb the ladder back to the school. There was no one up there to force him to come back. No one to stop him from following her, from saving himself.  

The Duke’s palace had been looted. Almost everything worth anything was gone. Tapestries and paintings had been ripped, broken, or somehow deformed. The few doors still standing had had their locks broken, and most of the furniture was either cracked or missing. Tigern walked through several corridors beneath the inexpressive eyes of Legionaries until he found the door to the Duke’s study. Inside, he saw the Imperial Marshal rolling a chair over with a kick, revealing a forgotten silver jar.

“Ah, Tigern, at last.”

Marshal Intila was a tall and powerful man. His golden armor had the Imperial lion sculpted in his chest, and the cape flowing down his back had the light blue of Augusta’s Legion’s.

“I need names, Tigern.”

“Names? Of what?”

Intila sighed and walked over to the Duke’s secretary – a bloc of ebony too robust and heavy to suffer at the hands of the mob that had pillaged the palace.

“The Emperor’s orders were refused. Then Imperial agents were arrested, just for trying to uphold those orders. And finally, when my Legions arrived, the city was closed. I had to mount a siege.”

“And the Lord of the city, the Duke, is nowhere to be found,” Tigern replied. “The city is yours again. What other names do you require?”

“I cannot return to Augusta empty handed. Someone has to pay,” Intila said. “You are not going to convince me that the Duke was alone in all this.”

“Of course he wasn’t. Even the people supported him until the Legionaries arrived.” Tigern aimed a finger at Intila. “I was guaranteed you would be reasonable if the problem was taken care of.”

“You’re not behind bars,” Intila said matter-of-factly. “Even though you are a member of the city’s government. I would say that part of the agreement is being kept.”

Tigern paused. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How am I supposed to take over the city if I don’t have the trust of the noble families?”

“Listen to me,” Intila said. “The Emperor cannot afford to not punish the families who openly affronted him. I am here, Tigern. Me, and not others. You know there are others far less reasonable than me.”

Openly affronted him? Tigern wanted to scream. Those families had done only what any decent human would have done. Tarsus was a tyrant, and his Purge was an unforgivable crime. If Tigern were a brave man, he would have said so.

“How many names?” he asked instead. “Is two enough? I want you to assure me their families will be spared.”

Intila said no with a shake of his head. There was no irony or malice in his expression, just the pragmatism of a soldier.

“Tigern, rebels are like Dragons. The problems they don’t cause today will become twice as bad tomorrow. That’s why we hunt Dragons, and that’s why you will tell me all the names. All of them.”

They had been hiding in that shack for three hours and their clothes were still wet. It had taken them too long to find a place to hide, and twice they had almost crossed paths with Legionary patrols. On a square that Eliran thought was the fruit market, she had seen the body of Allard lying over a pool of dark blood, his blue eyes staring at infinity. She was the only one who had seen him because as soon as she recognized him she turned the girls around and fled though an alleyway where they crouched in the shadow until the metal steps of a patrol drove them off.

She didn’t really know what the place was, but it looked abandoned and, at least, it protected them from the skin slicing wind. To warm themselves they nested against each other, but Eliran made sure she was the only one with a view to the hill where the school rose. It was visible through a slit in a closed window, but the scenery was terrifying. Red fire, black smoke, green lights, blue explosions, and the most sinister noises Eliran had ever heard. It had been going on for hours.

Flara had cried uninterruptedly for a whole hour, as had Sarina, Lassira, and Tajiha. Now they slept deeply, culled by exhaustion. Eliran herself was making an effort to stay awake as if that macabre spectacle was a vigil she was bound by duty to attend.

Suddenly, a noise distracted her. It was just a small crackle, but it was close that it was enough to make her stomach tighten. Then the door spun open, and a man with a messy, grey beard entered the shack. Confusion took over the stranger’s face for a moment.

“What’s this? What are you doing here?”

Eliran jumped up and the other girls did the same.

“I am so sorry. We thought this was abandoned.”

“Abandoned? My house?”

“
M‒
my apologies,” Eliran mumbled. “That’s not what I meant.”

The man grabbed the girl closest to him, Rissa, by her arm, making her scream.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Eliran felt alarm flash through her, but going back to the Legionary filled streets wasn’t something she looked forward to.

“We just need to spend the night. We won’t cause you any trouble….”

“Won’t cause any trouble?” The man pulled Rissa closer to him and she squirmed. “Who are you hiding from? The soldiers?”

“From no one.” Eliran had her eyes fixed on Rissa. The man was clearly hurting her. “Please let her go.”

“It’s the soldiers, isn’t it?” The man smiled. “Yes…. You’re little Wizardesses, aren’t you? And if the Legionaries catch you, they’ll snap your little necks.” To demonstrate, he took Rissa’s neck and squeezed it.

“Let her go, now!” Eliran stuck her hand in her satchel and fumbled inside, looking for the flask of Runium. She would need it to cast a spell, put him to sleep, whatever.

“Shush, little Wizardess. Do you want the soldiers to hear you?”

Eliran’s arm twirled inside the satchel. She caught coins, cookies, more coins.

“You are all going to be very quiet if you don’t want to end up like your teachers.” Once again he squeezed Rissa’s neck until she turned blue. Then he pointed at Lassira. “You, take off your shirt.”

Like a flock of birds, every girl took a step back.

Eliran was about to give up and throw a bunch of coins in the man’s face
‒
wherewas the damn flask
?
‒
until she touched something cold. She wrapped her fingers around the object and felt the blade’s metal. Desperate, she pulled it out and held it awkwardly in front of herself.

The man’s eyes became wide and in that moment, she realized he was drunk. He let Rissa go and stepped towards Eliran. She aimed the knife at him defiantly.