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

by Stephen Allan

  There, Artemia sat on a couch, her legs crossed. Another woman—likely the hostess of the place—left with a bow.

  “You are past your ten minutes,” Artemia said.

  “It was my decision,” Abe said. “Do not blame Eric for being late.”

  “I will blame whomever I want as leader of this guild,” she said, sounding particularly snappy. Does she know? Does she know Abe is not coming? She sure seems more on edge than before. “With that said, Abraham, I am curious as to why you say it was your decision. Seems to me that you would be setting a poor example.”

  Abraham again. This is getting bad.

  Abe, however, did not flinch at the words of his superior. In fact, he raised his own words when he spoke.

  “I had concerns that I had to address to Eric here, and they are concerns that I will now address to you.”

  To Eric’s shock, before he could persuade Abe to change his mind, the elder went into his speech as he had with Eric. He spoke with a bit more tact than he had with Eric, but the impression left by Abe was undeniable. The accusations and the fears were spoken without concern for their consequence.

  For her part, Artemia seemed unfazed. Eric did not even sense an underlying tension or aggravation from her. She seemed preternaturally poised. It was almost intimidating how nothing seemed to affect her, not even one of her own accusing her—probably accurately—of attempting a coup of the empire. If something could get under Artemia’s skin, Eric didn’t want to face it.

  When he finished, Abe held his hands by his side, as loose as he’d seemed since leaving Mathos. Artemia uncrossed her legs and slowly rose.

  “Well, Abe, I certainly appreciate an open voice here and can understand your concerns,” she said. “However, as a member of the Dragon Hunter’s Guild, you took a promise to take on all missions that I assigned you. In turn, I promised not to assign you missions you could not handle, for it would do me no good to assign suicide missions to my men. You have broken this promise tonight by refusing to join Eric and I on the hunt for Ragnor, a mission I thought you would surely be capable of handling. As such, you are permanently banned from the Dragon Hunter’s Guild and you are asked to leave this building right now.”

  Silence.

  The words stung like a thousand bees. The words burned like a hell of Indica’s fire. The words cut like a thousand daggers. Just like that. Just… in a single sentence, with no emotion, no concern, no wavering whatsoever, Artemia had banished Abe. Not even a warning was given.

  For just refusing a mission?

  “If I may—” Eric began, but Artemia’s eyes penetrated him so quickly and left him reeling so hard he nearly literally stumbled backward.

  “You are next if you are not quiet,” she said, her words perfectly annunciated for emphasis. “Do not think I will not go alone to Ragnor.”

  This was certainly not a bluff, Eric knew. He swallowed and bowed his head. He did not dare even speak an apology for fear of what might follow from her. If he did not have the hunt of Ragnor, what did he have in his life? What would compel him to do, to fight, to live?

  “Is this what you really want, Artemia?” Abe said, who did not have the same concerns, having already been banished from the guild.

  “Quite,” she coldly replied.

  “Really,” Abe said, becoming emotional. This, Eric had not expected. “Really? How could you forget how we started together? How we vowed to always fight together, no matter what? And you want to just throw that away because of some concerns that I have fairly presented? Artemia. Please. Think about your decision.”

  Artemia took two steps to Abe, coming close enough to poke him in the chest. Eric had a very awful feeling that something bloody was about to happen. He located his sword on his hip, just in case the worst came to pass.

  Instead, Artemia seemed to pierce Abe with words, not weapons, but creating a wound all the same.

  “Get out. You mean nothing to me now. You have never meant anything to me outside of your hunting skills. And you will never mean anything to me again..”

  She turned to Eric, speaking as she walked past him. Her words never contained any emotion.

  “We leave tomorrow morning. Don’t let me catch you talking to former members of the guild after tonight.”

  With that, she left. Abe bowed his head, his eyes watering. Eric felt he had missed something crucial between them, but Abe just walked out before Eric could ask anything more. There was no changing the mind of his mentor now. There was no changing anything in those two stubborn souls.

  Eric realized walking outside to meet Abe was a risky proposition that would easily draw the ire of the guild master. Technically, he had tonight to talk based on how Artemia had chosen her words.

  But he had to know. He couldn’t just throw away nearly a half-decade of mentoring and friendship just because the man had gotten tossed from the guild. The bond he shared with the old man crossed past job titles.

  He found Abe at the house across the street, sitting on the steps. Abe was not crying, but he had his head hung low and his arms crossed on his knees. He had the look that Eric had had in his darkest moments.

  Eric approached, aware but not caring of potential consequences, and sat by Abe. He hoped to provide just a tenth of the comfort that Abe tried to give whenever Eric got wrapped in his head.

  “What was that all about?” he asked.

  Abe just gave a short laugh, breathing hard, pushing away tears.

  “I hope, Eric, that when you reach my age, you are not ready to throw decades of friendship away just because of a simple disagreement of your use of power,” he said. “Not just friendship, though. Well, at least on my end.”

  Eric suddenly sat up straighter and paid more attention. He knew he didn’t need to say anything to encourage Abe to go on.

  “I first met Artemia when I was in my late twenties, a few years into my service in the guild. She had just joined with her brother, since deceased, a young woman whose demeanor, confidence, and focus surpassed that of just about anyone in the guild. She was stunningly attractive, as I still consider her to be in a more mature way, but the intensity and skills she had as a dragon hunter were unsurpassed. Like many men in the guild, I fell for her, but unlike many men, I was not intimidated by her presence. I eventually began to court her.

  “Artemia, however, is not the type of person given to love. Truthfully, I am not sure if she has ever loved anyone at all other than her parents—although when I asked her about them, she merely said they were no longer present. Thus, she refused my advances. However, I believe that she was impressed by my courage to approach her, for many men simply could not bring themselves to talk to a woman of her beauty and stature. And so we became good friends.

  “Even now, after all these years, we remained close, at least in the sense that we talked freely in a way most hunters would not with her. So for her to have just tossed me out so coldly…”

  Eric could not even fathom such a thing. They had known each other longer than Eric had lived. And yet, he had witnessed Artemia execute the “friendship” with the guillotine of a single sentence.

  Unfathomable. Brutal. Cruel. Unfair.

  But reality.

  And would she say the same thing about Abe? Or just see him as a means to an end as well?

  Am I nothing but a means to an end?

  Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.

  “Really, I should have seen this coming. Ever since she became the guild master, her demeanor has changed. She has always been reserved, but she took on an air of mystery and recluse. It was as if no one could know her once she obtained power. Even those closest to her did not know what she was doing. I suspect if Artemia had her way, half the time she would not truly know what she was doing, just so she could avoid blabbing it out loud to someone. In any case, though, the result is that while I am saddened… I am a little surprised. I can say that. But I can also say I am not as surprised as I would have been a decade or
so ago.”

  He sighed heavily.

  “And the sad thing is, I was angry not because I wanted to stop her by hurting her or killing her. I wanted the calm Artemia back. I wanted to help her, not stop her. But…”

  Eric bit his lip and nodded. It was just too much to comprehend.

  Artemia was even colder and more brutal than Eric had imagined her to be. Almost impossibly so. And yet, here he was, about to work with her for the next month as he embarked on a quest to destroy Ragnor and avenge his own personal hardships. Maybe this was his bargain. The only fortunate thing for Eric was that he did not have the relationship with Artemia that Abe did, so he could keep it more neutral and professional than Abe could. He could easily imagine a life without Artemia; in fact, he hoped it would come to fruition in the coming weeks.

  “Eric, as you journey with her, protect yourself and keep an eye on her.”

  “You think—”

  “I don’t know what to think, honestly. In a way, I have been thrown out over a giant thought loop I could not get myself out of. I have no proof to back up what I have said about Artemia, and there is a massive chance that my expulsion has come because of my stupidity. But a man never loses anything by making sure his allies don’t see him as expendable or, worse, actual enemies. I don’t think Artemia is suddenly going to kill you. But I do think she won’t be afraid to sacrifice you if she thinks it will help her kill Ragnor or, if it comes to it, Bahamut.”

  Sacrifice me. If Eric suffered mortal wounds in this battle, but he got to witness Ragnor die, he could live with that—no, he could die with that.

  What was of greater concern was the idea that Artemia might trap him or leave him to die a slow, painful death in some fashion if she got Ragnor’s power.

  It left him in an awkward state where he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

  “I don’t know how to act upon—”

  “That? Just make sure her behavior is consistent with killing the dragon for the peace of the world. If she wants to declare war on the emperor, then you must make your own decision. But I would make these decisions now before you get into the heat of the moment. It is far easier to decide these things now when you are calm and at ease than when you are in a battle or, worse, facing the persuasive skills of Artemia. I don’t need to tell you how effective that woman can be in convincing people to follow her orders.”

  “Not at all.”

  He thought about it briefly. He would do whatever he could to defeat Ragnor. If it took his life, he would live with that. If it took Artemia’s life, he would live with that. If they both… really, he realized he could list all the hypotheticals known to humanity, and as long as they included “him defeating Ragnor” he would live with them. He even figured he’d accept the burning of a city if it meant the defeat of Ragnor.

  Even just “fighting Ragnor” qualified as a fulfillment of his hopes.

  But once that finished… would he support Artemia in attacking the empire? Was that something that he could get behind to help her on?

  That was a far harder question. And it was one in which no good answer came to. The more Eric pondered it, the more he realized he had to get past Ragnor first. Maybe it would open him up to Artemia’s persuasion, but if it came with Ragnor gone, so be it.

  Fortunately, Eric figured, he had plenty of time to figure that out if he won.

  “And you?” Eric said. “What will you do?”

  Abe laughed, far harder than Eric expected. It even caused Eric to laugh slightly.

  “You give me more credit than you should, Eric. I appreciate it, but you do. I am just an old man who lost his job of thirty years. Who knows what I’ll do? I don’t even have a place to sleep tonight! If I knew what I would do, I wouldn’t be on this stranger’s steps.”

  But Abe said it more with jocular chuckling than anger. Like all other dragon hunters, he had spent some time sleeping in the wild. Sleeping in a civilized town would pose no problem for Abe or any other hunter who’d had more than a couple months of experience.

  “I suppose I will just stay here and help the magi. Now that I am free, I do not need to serve any ideology but my own. The emperor and his city are full of fools, not to mention construction jobs that are needed. I suppose I could take the ship back to Caia once I know that you two have left for the southlands, but frankly, I kind of like it here.”

  “I do too,” Eric said as he imagined settling down here.

  “Exactly. So, this is home,” Abe said, raising his arms and taking it in. “I think I’ll come in handy. You never know what moments will come in which you need someone who knows how to fight.”

  Abe then patted Eric hard on the back.

  “But you need to get some sleep. Artemia will have you move out whether you want to or not tomorrow. Don’t worry about me. If you do, come to Dabira when you finish with Ragnor. If I’m not there, come to Caia. You’ll find me, I promise.”

  “OK,” Eric said, leaning over to hug his mentor. “Abe. Thanks for everything.”

  “No, Eric, thank you.”

  The two shared a deep embrace, one that spoke to their bond forged over the last six years. It was not a bond shattered by Artemia’s words, and if Eric had anything to say about it, it was a bond that would not end at the conclusion of his quest with Ragnor. Nothing but death would break Eric’s admiration and appreciation for Abe. He would see the old man again.

  If nothing else, someone had to put him back in his place when he got carried away with executing wild dragons.

  “Now then, go,” Abe said, pushing Eric away. “You will see me again.”

  And you will see me again. I promise.

  ***

  A hard knock awoke Eric from something he hadn’t had in a while—a deep sleep without horrifying dreams. Though too tired to wonder why that had happened, he awoke as the knocking on the door came simultaneously with the sun peering over the horizon.

  “Eric, be downstairs in five minutes. Do not keep me waiting.”

  Eric didn’t muster a reply. Artemia didn’t need one. Artemia didn’t require one. She knew that if she asked something, she got it, and if she didn’t get it, she’d ensure she got it next time.

  He rolled out of bed and stretched. He threw on his tunic, then his boots. He noticed that they were beginning to look worn, and not the positive, experienced worn but the threatening to tear worn. But they had no time to gather supplies. Even if someone could make new boots in Dabira, it would take at least a couple of days, and Eric knew Artemia wouldn’t give him a couple of minutes, let alone a couple of days. It would already take at least three weeks to reach Ragnor—adding another day or two seemed downright cruel.

  He found his sword and examined it. It still had the shine and the power that it had had for years. If it did not break against the bone of Indica, it would not break against just about anything. As far as Eric was concerned, his weapon was indestructible until proved otherwise. And if it breaks against Ragnor, no better spot for it to do so.

  He grabbed his bag of supplies with rations and water. He glanced out his window just before heading downstairs. The window gave him a view of where he had last seen Abe, but his mentor was nowhere to be seen at the moment. If he was anywhere in the area, it was not to be seen from his window. I hope you slept well last night, Abe. He looked out over the rest of the city, glancing at a few of the elder magi wandering the streets. He looked to the skies and did not see a cloud within sight. Some of the stars still glistened but were being swallowed by the light of the sun. Hydor had provided Eric a picturesque sunrise on his last day in a bed.

  He headed downstairs and saw Artemia sitting on the couch, her right leg crossed comfortably over her left. She wore her hunting uniform with her sword by her side, unclipped from her hip. Her necklace with the small, turquoise crystal, though, remained all but glued to her. She sipped on some water and ate two small bread rolls. Beside her was a second full glass of water and some more bread. She motioned for him to sit and dr
ink and eat, looking as at ease as Eric had seen her since arriving in Dabira.

  “Enjoy it now,” she said. “After this, we must rely on our supplies. It is practically a guarantee that we will have to forage for food and water on this journey. This will test your mental fortitude and perseverance, more than anything else has. But unlike Abe, I know that you won’t falter.”

  Don’t talk about him that way. He’s still my mentor.

  But despite the thoughts, Eric decided no response was best. He pressed the glass to his lips and swallowed the cold water, water colder than he expected, one that brought his mouth to life with a single drip. When he swallowed, it was like the water poured through his entire body, starting from his throat, going to his stomach, and spreading to his chest and then his extremities. It brought him to life, shaking him of whatever doldrums of sleep still clung to him.

  He grabbed the bread, already smothered in butter, and bit into it. It was slightly crunchy, but not so much that it felt sharp. If the water had brought him to life, the bread invigorated and ignited his energy. He devoured it and the glass of water in less than two minutes. When he finished his glass of water, he placed it back on the wooden table with an audible thud and put his hand on his sword, signifying he was ready.

  Artemia, however, was strangely still taking her time.

  “I told you to enjoy it,” she said. “You think I would choose my words that poorly?”

  She then hummed a short tune, one that Eric had never heard before. He thought better of asking it, though, and simply remained on the couch. Only because Artemia leaned back against the cushion did he feel comfortable doing so as well, for before that he had sat erect and at attention. After last night, he took nothing for granted when it came to even skirting Artemia’s authority.

  Artemia ate at a deliberately slow pace, one that Eric decided was either genuinely for her own good or a way of teasing Eric for rushing too hard. Each chunk of bread she bit off took at least twenty bites, leaving Eric to gaze in boredom around the room. It had a minimalist style to it, with their couch and table the only furniture in a room that could have easily fit another two large pieces. Even the wooden floor had no carpeting, and the walls featured no paintings. To Eric, it positively represented the lack of extrinsic, meddlesome activities that defined Caia and the Syrast Empire.