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

by Stephen Allan

  For every question that had an answer, another half-dozen popped up for which she had none. She had barely considered the question of “What does Kara want in all this?” before the woman herself appeared in the main room, facing the other magi present. Calm down, Zelda. Relax. Don’t let the dark thoughts get to you before they actually happen.

  “All of you are to be honored today,” she began, her voice slow and calculated. “This is a moment we have been waiting for for quite some time. More than being honored, though, you are being freed. This is a moment the magi have fought for for centuries, if not an eternity. It has taken us quite some time to get here, and we must fully appreciate the moment while being prepared for the worst of the empire. While we have protections in place, one can never be too safe in a spot like this. I will not assume that we are safe until all of us have pressed both feet upon the soil of Dabira and the empire’s ship has long left our sights.”

  Zelda made no motion. She was fearful doing so might lead to Kara calling her out for any reason. Her goal was to blend in with the background, first to become like stone in the hideout and then to become like dirt on the surface. If she so much as looked like a pebble against the smooth roads, she would have failed. It would make any action she would have to take easier.

  But in her mind, she realized Kara had just answered one of her questions. They don’t know she’s planning on killing the emperor. There’s no way we’d get a ship back to Dabira if we did that.

  “We depart now. Though the emperor preferred for this meeting to come later, we as the Shadows of the Empire do not follow the schedule of the emperor. We go at our pace. I have told the imperial representatives to meet us at the entrance of the library, where they will escort us to the main stage in front of the palace. Keep your daggers close and do not let them become visible unless it is necessary.”

  She paused and eyed each magi individually. When she got to Zelda, a small smile came across her face. The young girl tried to figure out its meaning, but Kara quickly moved on.

  “When we are up there in a little bit, I want you to think of all you have accomplished. Many magi have died over the years for this to be possible. Some of you, I am sure, have lost loved ones. Remember all you have fought for, and let that carry your feet. Now. Let’s go.”

  No one said a word as Kara brushed by. Gaius stepped as far back as he could, allowing the other magi to go before him. Yeva started to move, but Zelda grabbed her arm. She motioned with her head to stay near the back. Yeva made no gesture in response, but she stood still until it was just her, Zelda, and Gaius left to depart.

  If I never see this place again… thank you, Kara. For showing me my potential.

  But I hope I never see it again all the same. I hope that I can live out in the open here in Caia.

  If sanity prevails.

  They ascended the spiral stairs and exited into the library. The place was entirely clear, even of soldiers. Zelda wondered why the guards just didn’t patrol the entire area, looking for their secret entrance, so that they could use that for future reference. It made her both hopeful and queasy at the same time—hopeful, because maybe it meant the emperor’s offer for peace was genuine; and queasy, because it made her wonder if the emperor already knew about their secret hideaway.

  They passed by many of the aisles of books that Zelda had once spent her entire days indulging in. She wondered if the empire knew of Gaius’ secret collection of books, or if that too was cloaked from the eyes of the emperor. Nothing was out of the question—the emperor lacked the intelligence to pick up on such things, but his wrath was so great that his cohorts may have done the hunting for him.

  She felt sad, knowing that she would never see the books that Gaius had protected for her. No, you will. Stop assuming everything is about to become chaotic. You can come home. Maybe Kara changed her mind and spoke the truth. Maybe we are going on a boat to Dabira.

  They went into the atrium of the library. Zelda glanced up once more to see the mural of Bahamut. She shuddered to imagine a dragon more powerful than Indica, one that a long-dead magi had barely defeated.

  What would happen if he returned? No one in this world had the power that Garo supposedly possessed. I couldn’t do it. If I can’t…

  “Keep moving,” Gaius said, his voice was kind and gentle.

  They came to the outside, and a smaller-than-expected but still rabid crowd awaited them—along with the corpse of Indica. A month in, and Zelda still had not gotten used to the sight.

  Though Indica had inflicted great damage on many of the buildings, reducing several to dust, the damage to the library was mostly aesthetic. Some of the columns were singed with black burns, and the long, wide steps leading to the road had some holes and large cracks, but one could still easily climb without tripping or lunging as long as one paid attention.

  Out in the streets, guards had parted the crowd of people, including around the corpse of Indica. The dragon reeked, an odor no one else seemed to notice—or had just adapted to. Why the emperor had not had the corpse of the dragon cleaned up, Zelda couldn’t figure out. She would’ve thought that to make the citizens feel more at ease, he would’ve had his guards remove the very beast that had killed many of their friends and family.

  But then again, the emperor rarely acted in the interests of his people.

  Zelda looked at Yeva, who shared the same obvious concern that she did. There was no place for them to blend into the crowd. If they broke off, at least one of a dozen guards within range would push them back forward, if not kill them. They might get away with using their magic on a few of the soldiers, but there were more than enough here that Zelda felt like a single rat at a giant banquet, surrounded by feet waiting to stomp her dead.

  Zelda monitored the crowd. The citizens did not seem especially pleased to be here, but they weren’t jeering. They weren’t taunting the magi. Gone were the mindless chants of killing magic or the haunting cries of a dying mage.

  Instead, the crowd seemed to regard them with the utmost curiosity. It was like they had just learned a minute ago magi could make great allies instead of great enemies. They still put their faith in the guards, but at least they had stopped treating the magi so contemptuously. A couple even applauded but quickly stopped when no one else joined them.

  Zelda had the feeling she stood under a swath of storm clouds, and as soon as one exploded in lightning, the rest would follow suit. She might get lucky and dodge lightning once, but twice…

  Would you stop thinking in such wretched terms?

  The Shadows of the Empire continued marching toward the area where the emperor spoke. There, Zelda saw the emperor—she shuddered just thinking about him; seeing him made her shiver worse than the crystal had. Many guards dressed as if prepped for combat—a sight that raised the queasy factor—and… one of the boys she’d seen as she escaped Caia the first time.

  That made no sense. Why was a dragon hunter…

  Tyus?

  Why is he here?

  But she ignored the question. Instead, she and Yeva were led to a platform where they were lined up in a row, guards about five feet behind them, the citizens of Caia before them. There were ten of them in total. Zelda glanced behind her and saw the guards, their faces blocked by their helmets, standing with swords at the ready. It was no different than a soldier standing at attention for the emperor, but this left Zelda feeling nauseous.

  She elbowed Yeva, who leaned forward to her.

  “I don’t like this,” Zelda whispered. “Be ready to run. Even if Kara goes first. Use magic to defend yourself.”

  Yeva’s face went pale.

  Zelda could only pray Kara would not act out on her wishes now. Because no matter what, all it took was a single drop of blood to open the floodgates of death and chaos.

  CHAPTER 3: ERIC

  The three hunters moved through the town toward the docks, adulation raining down upon them from the citizens who recognized their faces and names. Artemia gave cold
smiles, raising her hand politely, but never stopping. A couple of very attractive women compelled Eric to stop, but Abe grabbed the teenage boy by the wrist and yanked him away before Eric’s hormones took control of him. Abe was the only one of the three to not enjoy the praise, his facial expression that of an aggravated man who wanted nothing more than isolation from the masses.

  “Crowds,” he said. “The worst thing humanity does.”

  Eric didn’t disagree with Abe’s assessment, but he had some sympathy. The city needed a true hero, a true reason to celebrate, and not an arrogant caricature of a god to worship. He felt mostly uncomfortable playing that role, but on a small, barely noticeable level, he enjoyed playing that role given that it gave the people a small amount of joy. Perhaps someday, when he didn’t have the stress of defeating his parent’s killer, he could enjoy the role of hero and savior of Hydor.

  “Stay focused, gentlemen,” Artemia said, snapping Eric out of his daze.

  “I am focused,” Abe retorted.

  “I said gentlemen and not gentleman for a reason.”

  Eric’s eyes widened when Artemia looked away. He looked to Abe who adopted a stoic, guarded expression. Whatever argument had erupted between the two senior members of the guild seemed to threaten the very cohesiveness that helped them defeat Indica in the first place.

  When they came to the docks, a single soldier awaited them. Eric recognized him as the guard Abe had gone with to Dabira.

  “Frederick,” Abe said.

  “Welcome, hunters, to your ship,” the soldier said, completely ignoring what Abe said.

  He sounded bored and annoyed at having to run to Dabira again. Eric took a look at the ship and felt the same way.

  Run down, full of barnacles, rusted, broken, tattered, creaky—any description that would reflect negatively on the ship’s status would apply. The empire somehow did not see fit to equip the only non-magi who could fight dragons with a boat that could actually travel. It’s almost like they don’t care if we succeed in our mission. Such a strange thing.

  “That’s our ship,” Artemia said. Eric could not quite tell if she was mocking the selection or simply accepting it.

  “Yes,” Frederick said. “And it’s the only one we will spare. The alternative is to ride horses which will take you far longer. And then you’ll have to go through the mountains, and—”

  “Thank you, Frederick, we understand,” Artemia said, cutting him off abruptly as she walked past him.

  Frederick looked at her, back to Abe and Eric, and contorted his face.

  “You would allow a woman to speak to us like that?” Frederick said, trying to keep his voice low.

  “I would allow someone who has earned respect to speak to me like that, yes,” Abe said.

  Something about how he had retorted, however, sounded too defensive to Eric. He didn’t disagree with the message, but the tone sounded almost protective. It marked such an odd contrast compared to their interactions moment before.

  “Just another sign the empire’s great culture is rotting away,” Frederick said. “I am only coming with you to ensure you do not hijack the empire’s great ship. We are very guarded about who we allow on imperial property.”

  Eric didn’t even bother to hide his bemused smile. What would Frederick do, attack them outnumbered? The soldier probably couldn’t even defeat any of the hunters in one on one combat.

  “After we drop you off at Dabira, I am taking this vessel straight back here. We’ll send ships in two months time after to pick you up, if you’ve survived. I trust that you will find a way to survive in that magi-infested town. Not that I think you actually will.”

  Abe snorted. Eric crossed his arms. Frederick said nothing.

  “We’re wasting time,” Artemia said, coming from behind. “Let’s board, let’s sail, let’s go.”

  When Eric got on the ship, he realized he had somehow undersold the poor condition of the ship. Mold spread in every dark corner and filled every space. The wood didn’t just creak, it sounded like it would break with any step harder than a casual walk. The ropes to pull the masts was frayed. Even the imperial crest had discoloration and holes. Of all the things Eric saw on the boat, he couldn’t believe the empire would actually let that one pass. He began to wonder if they’d actually given the hunters a decommissioned ship.

  He walked downstairs into his quarters and laughed. They only had two beds, meaning for the next five days, if more than two people wanted to sleep, they’d either have to share a bed too small for a petite girl, or they’d have to risk the elements and the sky.

  And it wasn’t like the beds had much either. The blankets were tattered, and when he lifted them, bugs spread quickly. He couldn’t even address the putrid, rotting smell that permeated everything below deck.

  “The Shadows had better sleeping conditions,” he muttered.

  But then he felt the ship pushing out and he dropped his bag on the bed. Complaints would not make the ship move faster. And since Eric didn’t imagine doing any hunts after this one—for any reason—it wasn’t like he felt compelled to argue for future improvements on boats. That was a fight for a different hunter to take up.

  He went up to the top of the deck and observed his other three travelers. Frederick sat near the rear of the boat, his arms crossed, a sigh escaping his lips, looking like he’d rather dive off the boat and swim back to Caia than to spend the next five days with the hunters. If the imperial soldier took that approach, Eric wouldn’t mind.

  Abe leaned against the mast, looking deep in thought. Eric thought about approaching him, but the sight of the guild master caught his eye the most.

  Artemia stood at the bow the ship, her gaze out at the sea ahead. Eric rarely saw her in silent awe. She always focused on a specific task or a specific person, but for her to just lose herself in the serenity of the sea seemed unusual. Was she thinking about Ragnor? The days ahead? Power? Glory?

  Curious, he approached her, though she never turned to him.

  “It seems like this hunt means as much to you as to me,” Eric said.

  Artemia did not answer for several seconds. Eric knew better than to leave, but it felt like a good half-minute of silence passed. He looked away, perhaps wondering if Artemia might react in some way to indicate her interest or lack thereof.

  “You could say that,” she finally said. Her voice sounded strangely emotional.

  But she didn’t add anything else, even as Eric waited for an explanation.

  It seemed so unlike her. Even when hunting Indica, Artemia had kept her calm and her normal demeanor. Even as the losses mounted, she remained the same. She’d never acted like this. She’d never let herself become embedded too deep in a mission.

  I suppose that’s good. Ragnor can mean so much to both of us it’ll increase our chances of success.

  But something about her attitude left Eric feeling like he needed to know more about the coming mission. Unfortunately, he also knew he would never get any answer until he couldn’t do anything about it.

  * * *

  The first night passed without incident. The seas remained gentle and the sky presented no clouds or precipitation. Artemia rarely left her post at the bow of the ship, as if gazing at every ounce of water that they passed over. Frederick kept to himself, reading a couple of books authored by the emperor. Abe and Eric conversed, but rarely did their conversations turn to the serious or the practical. They instead spoke of their last journey across the sea, with Abe sharing stories of previous adventures across the sea.

  So, too, did the next two days pass without trouble. The thoughts of Ragnor, his mother, and Rey still plagued Eric’s mind. But at this point, like a chronic disease, he had learned to live with them, only acknowledging them at their worst rather than having them cripple him. In flashes, sure, he would have to go downstairs and find some privacy, but on the whole, it did not debilitate him.

  They passed time by watching the dragons from the mountain ranges of the south soar th
rough the air. They looked similar to the dragons from the northern lands, except a bit more colorful. Their size looked the same, their flight patterns similar, and their cries sounded as before. Eric imagined fighting one once more on a boat, but that came out of habit of preparing for the worst. He would not be caught off-guard if he could help it.

  He also passed time by looking for creatures of the sea, but those were less visible and far less frequent than the beasts of the sky. Aside from the occasional whale breaking the surface or a fish flopping out of the water for half a second, the waters rarely threatened the psyche as much as a dragon would. The most dramatic moment came when a black whale’s blow hole expunged water so close to the ship that Eric felt some of the drizzle.

  On that third night, however, the seas became less forgiving.

  A storm from the northwest approached, visible at least a couple of hours before it would strike their dilapidated ship. With numerous lightning strikes, torrential downpour, and voluminous thunder, Eric knew this would not be a merciful storm.

  They made all the necessary preparations for the storm, but to some extent, they would have no choice but to ride it out. The ship would rock, the rain would sting, and the lightning would blind.

  When the storm hit, all four of the passengers on board assumed precautionary positions. Abe and Eric stood near the masts, while Artemia and Frederick prepared to guide the ship as necessary.

  “It’ll be just like fighting Indica,” Eric said.

  “Let’s pray it has a similar outcome,” Abe said as he braced himself.

  “You want me to sprain my ankle and damage my shoulder?”

  The levity of the moment gave Abe a laugh, and in return, Eric smiled.

  But then they felt a heavy bump on the bottom of the ship.

  That was not the storm. That was too powerful. Too strong.

  Eric didn’t even need to ask if Abe had felt it. The expression on the older hunter’s face said much more than any amount of words would have. He looked back to see Artemia bracing herself. Only Frederick had moved, closer to the edge to take a closer look.