Demons of the Hunter (War of the Magi Book 2)

by Stephen Allan

  She gave a curt nod to Abe and to Eric. Eric noticed a blue crystal hanging around his boss’ neck, an ornament that he had not seen on her before, but before he could examine it closely, she had left the room. She left even more abruptly than Eric typically would.

  “You would be wise to listen to her, Eric,” Abe said. Eric started to roll his eyes, but stopped, deciding to at least let Abe speak. “The most dangerous thing a man can do is to rush into action. Give me half a day to destroy a dragon, and I’ll spend the first ten hours of that time sharpening my blade.”

  “I’ve got a sharp enough blade, thanks.”

  “Eric. Actually think about what I said before you just snap at me.”

  Eric didn’t bother to hide his contemptuous glare for Abe, but he did as commanded.

  Perhaps there was something to what Abe had said. When he slowed down the swirling lust for vengeance, he thought rationally about the task ahead.

  Could Eric defeat Ragnor without being at full health? Could Eric survive the journey there without being at full health? Would one extra day really make that much of a difference, all things considered?

  His thoughts continued for several seconds.

  “Remember that things are about to get a lot worse,” he said. “You know that Ragnor is significantly larger than Indica. Think of how much it took to bring down a creature like that. You know that the journey to reach Ragnor will be far more treacherous. Think of how dangerous it was crossing the great lake just to reach Indica’s lair. Think of how many men we lost. And now you want to run out by yourself? Even if we get magi from Dabira. Think about it. I don’t think it will take much thought on your part to realize if you let your emotions dictate your actions, you will follow a fatally flawed plan.”

  Eric knew rationally what Abe said was true. In no world would going from dozens of men to just a few work, especially when going from an extremely dangerous enemy to an even greater threat.

  But…but he couldn’t shake the dream he had just had. He couldn’t shake that what he had fought to discover for the last six years was finally revealed to him, and he couldn’t just let that slide. He had to take matters into his own hands. He had to.

  And besides, a few strong magi far surpassed dozens of average hunters.

  Even if it was a suicide mission, his soul wouldn’t know pain anymore if he perished.

  He would grant Artemia her extra day off, even as he knew that the rest of this day would be spent in his head, a miserable experience that begged for him to be free of the nightmare at hand. It was as much as he would give her. And it’s all I’m going to give her or anyone else here.

  Before he even mentioned his thoughts to Abe, his mentor sighed and shook his head.

  “I can already see that I will make no difference in your thought process, something which I am not surprised by,” Abe said. “Only promise me that you will not let unnecessary blood be shed as Artemia did. I will be resting all of today. I suggest you do the same as well. The more sleep and the more recovery time you have, the more prepared you will be for our mission. Maybe your shoulder will actually heal with a full night’s of rest. Think about what I’ve told you here, Eric.”

  Abe didn’t say another word as he left in frustration with young Eric. What was Eric supposed to do, though, acquiesce his wishes to Abe’s? Abe hadn’t lost anyone like Eric had.

  It was for the greater good, anyways. Humanity would not exist in true peace as long as the legendary dragons did. They needed the breathing room without these monstrous dragons firing at them every chance they got.

  That was his throwaway answer if anyone who didn’t know him asked why he hunted. But his real answer did not change. It hadn’t changed in six years and wouldn’t change for another six centuries if Ragnor didn’t fall.

  Eric took Abe’s advice and rested for the duration of the day. He tried to keep his mind occupied by reading about Ragnor, although as Eric did this, he suspected he could have chosen a more tangential topic than the one of hunting his current target if he wanted to sleep better.

  In his reading, he learned that Ragnor possessed great physical powers. Its sheer size enabled it to seemingly move mountains, though that seemed more myth than truth—although distinguishing between the two when it came to legendary dragons was as much an exercise in guesswork as it was in fair analysis. After all, all of the tales said that Indica possessed beautiful blue skin that would have been majestic if not so fatal, and that beast turned out to have more bone exposed than it did scales.

  It was also said that Ragnor was guarded heavily by monsters that could only exist through the imagination of something profoundly disturbing and imaginative. The rumors said that Ragnor himself brought about the monsters through the summoning power of a god named Iblis, but to Eric, it seemed far more likely than the other monsters sensed a chance for a symbiotic relationship in which they got to benefit by being near the legendary dragon.

  But, again, who was Eric to say? As long as Ragnor died, the dragon could be a bastard descendant of Garo for all he cared.

  Finally, it stated that Ragnor’s magic, though not as strong as Indica’s, was still quite powerful, capable of blasting hot fire that was actually red and capable of producing significant damage. Its magic, though, mattered little compared to its physical capabilities and its supposed summoning powers.

  What laid beyond would not be something Eric would explore until his current battle was finished.

  When he went to sleep, he prayed that he would not have another dream so emotionally heartbreaking as the one from the night before. As much as he loved seeing his mother and Rey again, he didn’t need to see them again. He needed to become hard to fight Ragnor, not emotionally weak and soft.

  As he drifted off, he felt confident. Soon enough, he was no longer in his private quarters, but…

  Fire surrounded him. Buildings lay in rubble, smoke smoldering from the ruins and fires still blazing. Eric stood on wobbly knees as Ragnor came into view, the shaky vision of the smoke blurring his line of sight. Ragnor roared to the heavens, and then Eric noticed the dragon missing its wings. It did little, though, to diminish the size of the monster.

  “This is what you wanted, it is not?” Ragnor said.

  This Ragnor was a little bit different than the one from the last dream. Its voice was different, not as deep but somehow just as dark. Its eyes were a brighter yellow, as if designed to intentionally stand out against the night.

  “You sought the destruction of the world so that you could get to me. It looks as if you have accomplished your goal. Entirely too well, in fact.”

  Eric looked down. The bodies of Artemia and Abe, as if hugging one another, lay in the dirt. The corpse of Tyus and the emperor lay about twenty feet to the side. There was no doubt there was no one else alive here.

  Bodies lay everywhere. Soldiers. Magi. Citizens. Eric had truly destroyed the world for this opportunity.

  “You thought that I was the harbinger of death, but instead, it is you, Eric, who has brought about the death of humanity.”

  Abe’s words echoed in his head, the ones warning him not to shed blood as Artemia had. Was this… this was what he meant?

  Then he gasped, his legs giving out as they could no longer support him.

  Appearing between him and Ragnor, lying face down in the dirt, were his sister and mother.

  “Now, you will face me!”

  “Ragnor!”

  But Ragnor, as if by magic, bellowed, and his wings began to grow back. And not only did they grow back, he was joined by a new dragon. One that was barely visible because of the clouds, but whose broad, multi-colored chest, massive wings, and elongated snout marked it as the king of kings, the greatest of them all.

  Bahamut.

  No. No! This isn’t fair! This isn’t what I wanted!

  Eric struggled to his feet as Ragnor laughed. Eric ran. He turned and ran to the sea, but every time he looked back, Ragnor had gained ground while Bahamut watch
ed from afar, its arms crossed in smug satisfaction. Eric dove for a small hole in the ground and hid there. Ragnor, at first, flew by. He also saw Bahamut shrieking from the heavens.

  Both of them? No. No. I can’t. This isn’t what I wanted.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are, boy.”

  Eric bit his lip. Perhaps a preemptive strike would do the trick?

  What good would a trick do if the dragon just grew its wings back?

  It was hopeless. Eric had entered into a battle he could not win.

  If I cannot win, then I must fight with honor.

  Eric climbed out of the hole to see Ragnor facing away from him. Eric gave a great yell and charged at Ragnor. The great red dragon turned, and Eric leaped to drive his sword into the beast’s hide. Ragnor launched a pillar of flame at him, and Eric closed his eyes, prepared for the heat. At least he would die with his sword striking Ragnor. At least the king of kings would witness his fellow legendary dragon bleeding.

  But then Eric awoke.

  It was not morning, though. In fact, as far as Eric could tell, it was midnight. The sky was as dark as it would get in the evening.

  It only intensified the sick feelings Eric had.

  The nightmares… would they ever end? Would Eric ever have a dream of peacefulness once more? Would a day ever come when he could go to sleep sure that he would not have a horrible dream full of death? Would he ever live without stress?

  Or was he doomed to have these terrifying, horrendous nightmares?

  And would they continue to wake him up?

  Would he ever, ever, ever have a truly good night’s sleep?

  Eric went to drink some water and he sat on the edge of his bed. He shook his head, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not escape his own mind and the damaging thoughts.

  Now he had a bigger problem. His thoughts of Ragnor were becoming a cycle that ruined his subconscious. On the surface, he projected confidence, an ease, and a certainty that he was on the right path

  But deep down, if he really admitted it… this was something akin to a suicide mission, wasn’t it? Three dragon hunters and a few magi against a dragon stronger than Indica. Not as strong magically, but physically, much more so. It had taken the magi’s help to finally bring down Indica.

  Eric needed to get help. He hated admitting it. This was his battle. He alone needed to get revenge! He alone needed to see Ragnor die! No one else had the right to slaughter that dragon!

  And yet…

  He didn’t just need help on the battlefield. His soul needed help. But not even magi could cure that. Not even magi could peer into a person’s spirit and release him of his pain.

  Only I can do that.

  But every time Eric considered releasing his lust for Ragnor to free his soul, guilt at leaving his mother and sister behind gnawed at him. Nothing he could do short of seeing Ragnor take his last breath could end him.

  Eric needed to clear his head. So he put on half-respectable clothes—his black tunic with sandals—and walked out of the room. Perhaps a simple midnight stroll would alleviate some of the pain. Perhaps glancing at the stars would provide inspiration, or at least a distraction from his own head.

  He came to the main atrium after going down two small hallways and saw only three figures. Two guards at the entrance, which was standard.

  And then a third one with a hood up.

  At this distance, it was impossible to make out who it was. It definitely wouldn’t be the emperor. Maybe one of their own? The guards obviously could see the figure and didn’t care, so it wasn’t a mage. Even with the peace reached in the last month, old feelings died hard.

  Eric shrugged and decided to pass by. If the person said something, he’d turn.

  “I see you, too, struggle with sleep.”

  Artemia. What bothers you this late at night? What do you think about?

  Eric turned, just about at the last step, and saw Artemia’s blank eyes staring back at him. She approached Eric and motioned for him to sit on the steps. She went down about three steps so that she was eye level with him.

  “What is happening?” she asked. “Why are you still awake?”

  Eric shook his head as if embarrassed to tell her the truth. He even cackled a short laugh. But Artemia’s gaze was unyielding and she did not respond in any way. Eric knew he wouldn’t get out of this one.

  “I had a bad dream. Ragnor and Bahamut teamed up to attack me. This right after one of the previous dreams I had.”

  “Previous dreams,” Artemia said, not in a question but in a way that expected an answer all the same.

  “Yes. A few nights ago, I…” Just tell her. She’s not going to stop you. “I dreamed I saw my mother and my sister again. It was so real. So frighteningly real. It affected me. I could see them. I could feel them. I talked to them. And now this evening… my dreams just seem real. I feel like my consciousness in my dreams and here are the same, they see the same experiences.”

  “I see.”

  A silence filled the air. Eric looked up to the stars, glistening as brightly as they had in weeks. An ugly storm had started the night of their last attack and continued in the days since, lasting nearly two weeks. Then it left, but the clouds remained, and it wasn’t until last night that the general haze had vanished.

  He tried his best not to look to the streets, though, for what laid there. That, though, was an arguably even tougher task than eliminating the thoughts in his head.

  “This quest for Ragnor has overtaken your mind,” Artemia said. “This is the truest case of a double-edge sword that I have ever seen. On the one hand, the focus that it brings to you promises good things on your hunt. But on the other hand, you must make sure to control your quest, not let it control you. I don’t want to see you die in your quest for vengeance, Eric. We are not going to stop at Ragnor if we are successful.”

  Eric didn’t have to ask for clarification. There was only one thing beyond Ragnor.

  “I’m well aware.”

  “And yet you continue to have these dreams. Worse, you continue to let them affect you.”

  Eric had no retort for that.

  “Our dreams often tell us things that we wish to admit but cannot do so, not only to our loved ones and closest allies but also to ourselves,” Artemia said. “Some will tell you that dreams foretell of the future, but this is nonsense. No one can foretell the future. There are many possible futures, some in which we succeed, some in which we fail, some in which we do not fight for whatever reason. But we shouldn’t ignore our dreams, for they tell of our true desires or our true fears.”

  Again, silence came. Artemia seemed to expect Eric to fill in the gap, but when he did not—choosing instead to process what Artemia had said—she continued.

  “From the sounds of it, you fear fighting a battle that you cannot win. You fear fighting a battle that will cause more harm than not. It would seem that you fear these things. Yet you would fight and burn the world down if you could. You would rather fight Ragnor knowing there is no chance you would succeed than to stand by and face these thoughts and emotions head on.”

  “Yes,” he said quickly.

  But with what he had learned, maybe it was just what he wanted to say. Maybe he didn’t want to have the world catch fire. Maybe he wouldn’t actually sacrifice Hydor for his own personal satisfaction.

  But then…

  “We are still going to leave tomorrow, Eric,” she said, and then she came closer. “I am going to recruit the magi in Dabira to join us. I thought of telling the ones here to leave the ceremony and come with us, but just as I told you not to expend political capitol unnecessarily, I do the same for them.”

  “Do you think they will join us? I have heard Dabira is not as willing to fight as the Shadows.”

  Artemia shrugged.

  “I don’t need more than a few. But in any case, we should act as if it will just be the three of us. In the meantime, Eric, try and get some more sleep. But as you do so, hones
tly confront your fears. You can fight Ragnor and still acknowledge what you fear. But if you don’t, then your dreams and rage will consume you and you will die when you finally face Ragnor, for you will be too weakened by the idea of him to face the reality.”

  She stated it so simply she might as well have been telling Eric he would be eating eggs the next morning. She also left so quickly that Eric had no chance to ask or clarification.

  Eric rose, but the words didn’t die. They danced in his head even more as he came to his room.

  He had a lot to think about. One minute, he was convinced he needed to slow down. The next, he was imagining himself never fighting Ragnor and dying with the regret of not facing his family’s murderer. The mind toyed with the body, refusing to let it sleep.

  For as long as Ragnor existed, it was clear that the war with the demon would take place as much in his mind as it would on the fields of Hydor.

  * * *

  For once, Eric didn’t have an emotional nightmare involving Ragnor or his family.

  But that only happened because by the time he finally did fall asleep, dawn had nearly broke. He did not sleep long enough to dive into his nightmares.

  An abrupt, hard hand on his shoulder woke him. Instinctively, Eric swung his fists as he rolled over. He dropped his attack when he saw Abe fully dressed for the road ahead—sporting his brown boots, uniform, worn out bow and arrows, scratched sword, and a backpack of supplies.

  “Rise and shine,” Abe said.

  “I’ll rise,” Eric said.

  Abe gave a short snort. Eric couldn’t tell if Abe still lingered on what had happened in the days before; frankly, at this hour and on such little sleep, Eric didn’t want to know.

  “Just make sure you’re ready to depart within the hour,” Abe said. “The emperor and Tyus are going to give us a farewell sendoff. The last thing we need to do is make them wait.”

  “OK, OK,” Eric said, shorter on temper than he had thought.

  “I’m not saying that for me,” Abe said. “I’m saying it because… well, it’s the emperor.”