The Dragon Hunter and the Mage (40 page)

With deft hands, she undressed her garment and turned its black side outward again before putting it on once again. The Palace’s front door wasn’t locked, and Venia pushed it open slowly so it didn’t make a sound. Unfortunately, the first foot she laid inside made the hardwood creak.

She closed her eyes, cringing.
I
hate
old floors,
she thought. 

Venia was forced to walk nerve-wrenchingly slow to make sure the floorboards didn’t betray her again as she explored the enormous, four-storied mansion. There was no sign of the Prince inside, so she moved to the second palace, still keeping to the shadows, still stepping like a feline on the prowl.

At this rate, it’ll be dawn before I’m finished…

Once again, there was no sign of Fadan anywhere in the Palace. The third one was slightly smaller than the other six, but it was still just as tall and infuriatingly large, considering how slowly she had to move.

There was no one on the first or the second floors. Wind swept in from the broken windows, sending shredded curtains into a wild dance. Venia climbed to the third floor and, once again, there was nothing indicating someone had been there recently. It was then that she caught the scent of something burning. Pine and… parchment?

She found a stairwell leading up to what she assumed was an attic. She walked carefully, her hands to the wall to make sure she didn’t trip. There was absolutely no light after the stairwell made the first turn.

The burning smell grew stronger and Venia shrunk against the wall as she reached the top of the stairs. There was definitely something burning on the other side of the threshold. She could hear the flames crackling softly.

Venia tilted her head only enough so that she could peer into the attic. It was a long, wide room, empty save for some furniture pushed into a corner and a dinner set lined against a wall.

The Prince was not inside. Instead, there was a bucket right in the middle of the room, smoke and an orange hue rising from it.

Carefully, Venia walked into the attic, then spun around like lightening, as if she expected to be jumped from behind, but there truly wasn’t anybody inside.

The Prince had been there, set something on fire, and then he had left. Venia stepped up to the bucket. There was a book inside, flames eating away at its pages and hardcover.

Very careless, kid,
she thought.
Not such a good boy after all.

She ripped a large patch of her skirt off, then kicked the bucket, its burning content spilling over the floor. In a quick motion, Venia covered the book with the piece of her skirt, then stepped on it repeatedly until she was convinced the flames were out.

A small cloud of smoke puffed into the air when Venia lifted the cloth. The book had nearly disintegrated, but not completely. Its bindings remained stubbornly intact, and so did its cover, despite the cindered look.

It was strange. Venia had never seen a book cover made out of wood. As for the pages, none remained intact, and most of them had burned away completely. A few of them, however, the ones at the center, still had portions where the text was still readable, even if most of the sentences were now cut by at least two thirds.

Venia’s fingers ran through the pages with the softness of a caress. She wanted to be sure she didn’t damage the book further.

“Fire take me!” she heard herself say as she read. “What the heck
is
this!?”

Chapter 16

Aric slammed the door shut. Outside, clamoring bells joined a rising chorus of terrified screams.

Geric ran under a table, and the whole group shrank as the Dragon’s deep, rolling roar appeared to fly over the Blood House. Even the beams on the ceiling seemed to tremble.

“Shouldn’t we go underground?” Jullion asked, looking as pale as a ghost.

Like a reply, the shattering sound of a crumbling building exploded nearby.

“Jullion is right!” Ashur said. “We need to hide.”

“I could open the door to the Brewing Chamber,” the old keeper said.

“Do it!” Ashur ordered.

The old man turned to comply, and was already on his way with several of them in tow when Aric said, “Wait!” He paused, looking at the group with steely eyes. “We can’t just hide. We have to
do
something.”

Feet shifted and nervous glances swung from one side to the other.

Ashur was going to yell something in return, but Irenya cut him off. “Aric, we’re just recruits,” she said softly. “We’re not even halfway through our training…”

“I know,” Aric said. “But there’s a Dragon out there and we are the closest thing to a Dragon Hunter for miles.”

For a moment, no one knew what to say.

“It’s… a Dragon, Aric,” Orisius eventually uttered. Everyone else seemed to be thinking the exact same thing.

“Yes, it is a Dragon,” Aric said. “It will set the whole city on fire, and kill anyone in sight. By the time that thing is done, there will be nothing left but ashes and rubble. We have to do something.”

Irenya and Orisius opened their mouths to reply but said nothing.

“Aric is right,” Clea said. “We have to do something.”

Her plea received no echo. Aric saw Athan reach for his prayer box, while Nahir and Trissa closed their eyes, mumbling something inaudibly.

“It’s suicide!” Ashur declared. He took a step forward. “What exactly are we supposed to do?”

Somewhere in the city, high pitched screams followed the thundering sound of what was probably the collapse of some other large building or tower.

“We have Glowstone weapons,” Clea replied, her hand reaching for a sword handle at her hilt.

“So what!?” Ashur asked. “Even if we
were
fully trained, you can’t fight a Dragon if it‘s flying.”

“I’m afraid the young man is right,” the old keeper told Clea. “Airborne Dragons are almost impossible to defeat. That’s why we only ever attack them inside their lairs.”

“Exactly,” Ashur said, turning to Aric. “Listen to the old man if you don’t want to listen to me.”

“I’m not saying we attack the Dragon,” Aric said.

Ashur looked stunned. “Are you making fun of me, or have you just gone mad!?” he asked.

“Settle down,” Leth told him. “What are you saying, Aric?” 

“I’m saying we go after the Witch,” Aric replied. He raised a hand, stopping the chorus of protests before it erupted. “Yes, I know. You all think I’m crazy, but I’m not.”

He looked at Leth and Clea. At least those two had to believe him.

“I know what I saw out in the desert. A woman walking towards a Dragon as if it was no more intimidating than an untrained stallion. I understand how insane that sounds, and I probably wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t seen it myself. But today I saw her again. I saw her just as clearly as I can see all of you right now. It was the same woman I saw in the desert. She walked into a tavern a few blocks from here, then, moments later, a Dragon swooped down from the sky and attacked the city.” He shook his head. “I don’t care how crazy I sound because either I’m right, or my hallucinations have the power to summon Dragons, and
that
sounds much crazier.”

That was a good point. Aric could see it in their eyes, even if no one wanted to admit it.

“So what?” Ashur asked. “We go after this… Witch? What happens when we find just some random woman?”

Aric ignored him and instead addressed the whole group. “We might be just recruits, but I
am
your Captain. That means I don’t need you to agree with me before I give you an order. However, I can’t be your Captain in name only. I can only lead you if I have your trust, and I know I haven’t earned it yet. So…” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Let me prove myself to you. Follow me and I’ll show you this Witch. I’ll show you she’s real, and together we’ll stop her. I’m not asking you to commit suicide. I’m telling you that even though we are only recruits, we
can
save this city from that Dragon.” Aric swallowed through a dry throat. “What do you say? Are you with me?”

A frightful silence took over the room, interrupted by muffled, distant screams.

“I am,” Clea said.

Aric felt like jumping to her and hugging her but instead gave her a calm nod.

“Well,” Leth smiled, “between insanity and fear, I will much rather have the first, thank you. Count me in.”

“I’m in as well, Aric Auron,” Nahir said. “A Cyrinian Honor Guard will always follow his Captain.”

Three yesses in a row… Aric would have felt proud if it hadn’t been for the spine-chilling growls and screams outside. They had to hurry.

“I don’t need to be a Cyrinian Honor Guard to be loyal,” Tharius said. “I’ll follow my Captain.”

“Screw that,” Trissa said, her hands on her hips. “The only thing Aric said so far that I agree with is that he hasn’t earned my trust yet. But…” She sighed and looked at Aric. “Clea’s right. We have to do something, and I’d rather go on a Witch hunt with you than stand here looking like a jerk.”

“I would rather look like a jerk and live than go on a Witch hunt and get roasted by a Dragon,” Dothea said. “But, you know… if you are all going, then I suppose I’m in too.”

A smile grew on Aric’s face. “What about you, Athan?” he asked. “We need the Goddess’ favor if we are to pull this off.”

“For the thousandth time,” Athan pleaded. “I’m not a priest!”

“Who cares?” Leth said. “We’re not Dragon Hunters either.”

There were some smiles. Athan even laughed. “Well, anyone fighting a Dragon has the Goddess’ favor. That’s why I joined the Guild in the first place. To fight Ava’s enemies, not to hide. So, yes. I’m with you, Captain.”

“Thank you,” Aric said. He looked at Orisius and Irenya and wondered if the two of them realized their hands were together. Not that it mattered. Their secret affair was a secret to no one in the Company.

The couple exchanged a nervous glance. “We’re with you,” Orisius said, sighing. “Let’s get this Witch.”

“Great,” Aric said. “Ergon? Lyra?”

“We’re with you, Aric,” Lyra said, smiling and grabbing hold of her brother’s arm.

Ergon remained quiet, letting his sister tug at his arm as if he was a lifeless doll. He did not contradict her, however, so Aric thanked them with a nod.

“Alright,” Aric said, smiling. “That leaves you three.” He indicated Ashur, Prion, and Jullion.

“Well, that’s a surprise…” Trissa said.

“What happens if we say no?” Ashur asked, ignoring Trissa’s comment.

“To be honest,” Aric replied, shrugging, “nothing. The punishment for disobeying orders is the Pilgrimage, but I’m not giving you an order. I’m asking you to come with me voluntarily. I’m asking you for a chance to earn your trust.”

“Trust?” Ashur sneered. “You’re an idiot, half-prince. But if you want to chase after some imaginary Witch, I’ll indulge you. Just so you know, though, if we
don’t
find any Witch, and we
won’t
, I’ll be requesting that you are removed from command on the grounds that you’re insane.”

Jullion agreed with a nod while Prion smiled fiendishly.

It was still better than a no, though. Or, at least, Aric hoped it was.

“Fair enough,” Aric said. He took a deep breath and looked at Geric, still cowering beneath the wooden table. “Geric, come on,” he called, slapping his own thigh. The cat, however, refused to move. “Coward… Alright, no time to lose. Cloaks off.” He removed his own cloak. His Dragon scale and Glowstone armor shimmered like a frozen lake under the sun. “Single file, heads low, and weapons at the ready. I’m in the lead. Leth has the rear.” He walked up to the door and grabbed the knob.

The rest of the company formed behind him quickly and precisely, Saruk’s exercises taking over their movements. Looking over his shoulder, Aric approved the formation and tried to steady his breathing.

“Good luck,” the old keeper said.

Aric had completely forgotten about him. “Thank you…” he said. Then, as if remembering something, he added, “You’re the one who first warned me about Eliran. Anything else we should know?”

“Yes,” the old man replied, his wrinkled hands shaking. “Dragons aren’t the only thing she can control. Give her a chance and she will twirl and shape your mind like a mound of sand.”

“Right…” Aric said. “No pressure, then.” He took a deep breath, swung the door open, and jumped outside.

Flames crackled everywhere. A dark, thick cloud of smoke made it hard to breathe, and a stone bridge connecting two taller buildings had collapsed into the street below, blocking its southern end.

Aric had memorized the way back to the inn, but the landscape had changed so radically he had to take a moment to recover his bearings. He looked east and saw a massive pillar of black smoke billowing towards the sky a few blocks away. The dark shape of the Dragon was swirling around it, jets of fire gushing down at the hopeless city below.

“We should hurry,” Clea said.

She was right. Without taking his eyes from the massive beast slashing through the air, Aric agreed with a dull, “Yeah.”

Could anyone ever get used to a sight such as that?

But there was no time for such thoughts. Springing back to life, Aric spun around and fled north, ordering the Company to follow him. They crossed debris covered streets, dodged smoldering objects, and bumped into panicking civilians. After turning several corners, Aric found the flagon shaped plaque.

“The thirsty Dragon,” Leth read from the plaque. “Somebody will be changing the name of his inn later today.”

“If he’s still alive…” Dothea added.

The door was locked. Aric shook the knob violently, but all he got was the rattling sound of wood banging against metal.

“Fire take this!” Aric yelled. “Dothea, can yo
u‒
”

“Excuse me, Captain,” Nahir said, cutting Aric off and pushing him aside.

The tall Cyrinian raised a foot, and it recoiled like a snake getting ready to attack. With a loud
crack
, the lock broke and the door smashed open. No one waited for a signal. The whole Company poured inside at once with blades in hand.

It was a sorry excuse for a tavern. The only two tables were overturned, and shards of stoneware littered the floor. Behind a tall, black counter, a middle aged man covered in soot froze with the handle of a trap-door in his hand.

“There’s no more room,” he squeaked, a thick, gray moustache covering his mouth. “Find some other place to hide.”

“We’re not looking for your basement,” Aric told him. “We’re looking for a woman.”

“There are no women here,” the inn-keeper said, stepping down the trap-door hastily. Somewhere down there, a little girl whined and a baby cried.

“One of your customers,” Aric said. “With copper hair and flowing white robes. She came in here earlier.”

The man stopped, his eyes rolling thoughtfully. “The Samehrian girl?” he asked.

“Of course, she’s Samehrian,” Leth said beneath his breath.

Aric ignored him. “Where is she?” he asked.

“I don’t know…” the man mumbled. “She paid for a room on the third floor.”

“Which one?” Aric demanded, storming towards the staircase.

“There’s only the one,” the inn-keeper replied with a shrug.

Aric was already halfway through to the first floor when the trap-door closed above the man’s head.

Striding two steps at a time, Aric climbed the narrow staircase with the Company in tow.

“Aric,” Clea whispered, grabbing his hand and stopping him in his tracks. They were nearly at the top. “If she really is a Witch, how do we fight her?”

He had been asking himself the same question for a while.

“She’s still human, like you and me,” Aric replied, showing her one of his swords. “We can take her.”

He looked at the closed door at the top of the flight of stairs. His palms had never felt this sweaty.

“Come on,” he urged, addressing the entire Company this time.

Steadying his hand, Aric opened the door and stormed in, ready to charge whomever he found.

But there was no one in sight.

Warily, the Company walked inside, the wooden floor creaking beneath their boots. The room was so large that all fifteen of them still weren’t enough to fill it. Above them stood a skewed ceiling, and several windows surrounded them. If it wasn’t for the two beds at the other end, the room would have looked like an empty attic instead.