At that, Zelda noticed Tetra coming back into view. Zelda nodded, trying to draw Garo’s attention to his returning wife, but he only looked, smiled, waved, and turned back.
“I said that my will to fight is dying and that my will to live is not. My will to support my wife is as strong as ever, and in fact grows by the day. For as long as she lives, I stand by her side. If she says that she wants to see the emperor disposed of, then I will now do whatever I can to help her in that cause. My days of compromising with her are done. I cannot ignore that my beliefs have failed. So if she wants the empire gone, I will support her. If not… well, I still stand by her.”
“So you would do anything for her?”
“Anything,” Garo said, with such emphasis that there was no doubt in Zelda’s mind to the validity of it. “Anything. When someone stays by your side for over hundreds of years—even if not all of them are as passionate as others—you don’t forget it. You repay that person however you can.”
“Garo.”
Tetra had come back into earshot. The elder turned, smiled, and Tetra rushed to him, embracing him. Zelda tried not to pay too much attention, lest she look like she was gawking, but she couldn’t help the huge smile that came over her face.
Perhaps… maybe Tetra, in her walk out, had found her love for Garo.
It was not too late for Garo and Tetra. If anything, the timing was just right. Now they could drop their fake identities and carry on. They could fight a singular purpose—and they wouldn’t have to live under the names of Kara and Gaius to try and pretend they weren’t in love.
The two murmured something silent to each other, and though they did not kiss, Zelda knew they would get to that point eventually. Love would take time to bloom. If they peeled it open too quickly, then it would break and die, unaccustomed and too weak for the outside world.
But what she did hear was them talking a bit later, with Garo raising his voice a bit more, seemingly for the purpose of Zelda hearing.
“So you’re telling me you won’t stop until the emperor is dead,” he said, more asking for confirmation than a question.
“I won’t stop until I get my way,” Tetra said firmly. “You know what that means.”
It was an odd thing to imagine that the girl just a few feet away from her, in physical appearance no more than six years older, was actually several hundred years older. Not only did she look barely a few years older, she sounded like a young girl too. Zelda supposed if she sounded like an old woman, the mismatch would have drawn enough suspicion, but still.
But then Garo pierced the ensuing silence with a question that only exacerbated the quiet sounds.
“Will you ever have done enough to have your way, Tetra?”
The tension seemed unbearable. Zelda wished Tetra gave an answer, one that spoke to an end goal. But given that more than a few seconds of awkward silence filled the air, that was gone. So much for complete peace and reunion.
“I…”
She started and stopped several times. Zelda admired the patience that Garo showed in not pressing her.
“I… I don’t know,” she said, which, while unsatisfactory, was probably the most accurate thing she could say. “I would like to think I would. I feel like I did when I was with you. But…”
“But times have changed,” Garo said, finishing her sentence. “Times have forced us to want more so that what we wanted originally wouldn’t get trampled.”
“See, when I hear it like that, I don’t think so,” Tetra said. “I don’t want more than I did before. I’ve always wanted freedom for the magi and the assurances we wouldn’t be fought. I was that way when you first married me, when we founded Dabira, when we assumed new identities, and at this moment.”
“But the methods of acquiring those freedoms have changed.”
“They’ve had to. The empire hunts us down. First we became a distant civilization that they could not control. Then we had to become a shadow that they could not see to survive. And now they have drawn us out and are hunting us. We can’t pretend Dabira is safe anymore. We can’t pretend anyone or anything is safe anymore. Now we have to become an uncontrollable fire that incinerates the enemy to survive.”
“I don’t think we ever pretended,” Garo said with a sigh. “But I understand what you’re saying.”
Another pause came.
“Do you still worry about your place in history?” Tetra said. “About how the first emperor said that he would make sure you were erased from the books, forgotten from time?”
Garo snorted, making it clear Tetra had hit upon a dark, touchy subject for the old mage. Perhaps one of the few for him.
“I’m afraid I’ve given up on that ideal,” he said. “I should have given up on it a long time ago. But I still hold out hope.”
“How so?”
Garo swallowed.
“We can’t predict how the future will look upon us in the present. We could just as easily be cast as the small outcasts who threatened the stability of the world, or we could be the ones who toppled evil and brought peace to the land. Or we could be the ones who are just forgotten. This story, the one with the magi and the emperors… in a thousand years, it might be known. Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? Who knows? There are as many years, as many stories, as many legends as there are stars. It just depends on what the world wants at that moment. I can’t control it. Living as long as we have has already taken a toll on us. Even if we succeed in this, I do not think we should live much longer. I think we have to give up on controlling our image and fighting the fight we believe in. If the future looks favorably upon it, so be it. We fight for justice, peace, understanding, and the eradication of evil and oppression of magi. I’ll take my chances.”
Tetra sighed, but it sounded like she did so with a smile.
“I wish I was at that point,” she said. “But I’m not quite there yet. I still want to set the narrative for the future.”
“I hope you do,” Garo said before ominously adding, “And I hope it doesn’t come back to hurt you.”
“Or you.”
Zelda started to wonder what he meant by that, but before she could get too deep into the thought process, Garo said it was time for bed. Tetra agreed and the two laid side by side. They didn’t touch, but they laid as close as Zelda imagined they had in decades.
Perhaps they would never reach the levels of love that they had in the past. Perhaps one of them would die before they could. Perhaps this would all result in annihilation, the magi and the empire.
But for at least one night, in keeping her world small, Zelda saw what love looked like, even through passionate disagreements, and what was possible when humanity—not just magi—focused on love instead of what divided them.
CHAPTER 12: ERIC
For the next week, Artemia, Romarus, and Eric settled into an easy groove. For breakfast, they ate the leftovers of the hunt the night before. Romarus used Eric’s sword to gently reheat the meat. The group traveled further south, conversation kept to a minimum. Eric already didn’t have great conversations with the guild master, and whatever conversations he would have with Romarus would typically require Artemia to be absent.
After about five days, in the far distance, the mountains of the south became visible. They looked like mirages, their features barely distinguishable, and as they had come several hours after their last meal, Eric truly did wonder if the mountains were just an illusion. But Romarus said they were real, and Eric believed the wizard who might have traveled there before.
The diversity of creatures rapidly increased as well. Some, they had already seen before. Dragons, small canines, vultures, even a couple of snakes. Their colors, size, and speed differed from similar animals in Mathos, but these were known dangers, and Artemia and Eric never even had their heart rate rise upon seeing one of these creatures. Romarus, too, seemed unfazed by what he had seen. Then again, Eric imagined if he had magic, nothing would faze him. Not that anything really does now. Other than my
mom and sister…
The vegetation, too, shifted. The grass became duller and shorter, but the trees and bushes became more dangerous. Leafs with soft, gentle ends became pointed, sticky, and painful. Bushes with leaves and fruits turned into thorns and weeds. Even some of the more exotic plants near those trees became more dangerous. Eric swore more than once that the plants moved with the humans, their thorns seeming to protrude forward.
It made for an ominous sign, given that they’d only made it a third of a way to their destination and it wasn’t about to get any safer.
But the first truly dangerous moment came on the tail end of the seventh day.
The three hunters had just finished a day’s worth of walking and now sought game to eat. The boars, pigs, and other game they would normally search for had become less frequent. The air had become colder, with Eric wearing his coat much more frequently. A couple of times in the early morning, he’d even asked Romarus to ignite his sword to provide warmth. The day wasn’t too bad, but he knew it would only get worse. The mountains now had clear definition, but that only teased how much further they had to go.
Finally, they saw a thick bear. It would have to do.
“Romarus,” Artemia said.
The elder mage nodded, crouching into position. He lined up his bow while Eric waited to the side, prepared to charge the monster with his sword to finish it off if necessary. Romarus nocked the bow, pulled the arrow back…
And dropped it.
“What’s wrong?” Artemia said, her question more accusatory than curious.
Romarus said nothing, but Eric could already see the problem. Beyond the bear, a great four-legged creature with a sharp, red mane over its black hide, starting from its skull down to about halfway to its tail, prepared to hunt the bear as well. It bore sharp teeth, and psychotic, snarling eyes that looked like it wanted to murder any living being south of Dabira. Despite these pronounced features, it had moved so quietly that Eric had not noticed it until Romarus had become uneasy.
He’d heard hunters from Mathos speak about these monsters. Many an elder spoke of these creatures with even more fear and nervousness than a dragon. Dragons, they had spent their entire lives hunting. But these beasts only appeared in the south, and when a hunter saw one, they kept as great a distance as possible.
“Behemoths,” Artemia said quietly and coldly, though her voice seemed a lot more precise than it usually would be. “Arguably more dangerous than dragons. Certainly faster and stronger, albeit without the tactical advantage of the air or fire or, in a few cases, magic. We would do well to avoid them.”
As if on cue, the behemoth leapt through the air, tackling the bear. The bear, to a man, stood several feet taller, weighed significantly more, and could kill him with a single swipe of his paw.
And yet when the behemoth crushed the bear, it gave the appearance of swallowing it whole. A single groan came from the bear before the vicious sound of flesh tearing and teeth boring into bone reached the humans’ ears.
“More will be here,” Romarus said. “We must hunt earlier when the behemoths sleep. If ever there was an apex predator in this land, this is it.”
Romarus put his bow back under his robes and his arrow back in his quiver. Eric tried to peel his eyes away from the behemoth, but a creature of such awe-inspiring power, size, and ferociousness could not be ignored. Whatever threat Ragnor posed, at least it was one dragon, far removed from Dabira, having attacked only once in the last six years. If there were multiple behemoths, and they ever made their way to Dabira…
Then, to make matters even worse, howls filled the air.
“This early?” Eric said.
“The normal rules of life do not apply this far south,” Romarus said.
“He’s right,” Artemia said. “We are not that far from the point where the wind bites more, the temperature drops, and human control ceases,” Artemia said. “We are probably still quite a ways from wolves. But the larger ones, their voices carry far. They are also creatures not to be trifled with. We may soon become the prey for the next two weeks. Such is the price for hunting Ragnor.”
The price?
So be it. If it means fighting through to Ragnor, we do it. Whatever it takes.
“In any case, having the mountains in view gives us a clear goal. For beyond it, the cave of Ragnor awaits.”
The behemoth bellowed to the side. Eric crouched into fighting position, his sword drawn. Romarus and Artemia backed up to him. Eric had direct line of sight on the behemoth. His heartbeat accelerated. His senses heightened. He could hear his own breathing.
All thoughts vanished. He had become a purely instinctual fighter.
But the behemoth never made eye contact with him. It never even paused to look their way. It had found its dinner and satisfied its primal urges. It turned the other way and bounded, but even going in the opposite direction, the speed of the behemoth left Eric in awe.
He looked up to the sky. The sun had gone halfway beneath the horizon. They didn’t have much time before the dangers of darkness dominated their destiny. They had to hunt now or wait until morning.
But wherever Eric looked, he saw danger or he saw no prey.
“We shouldn’t stay out in the fields,” Artemia said. “We run the risk of getting hunted down by nocturnal creatures. We should hide in the trees. I would rather not subject us to the dangers of a behemoth. We’ll risk the vegetation over the wildlife.”
“Agreed,” Eric said.
“And we’ll need to take turns watching through the night.”
“Agreed on that as well,” Eric said.
“It is a wise move, but I will need your assistance tonight,” Romarus said. “Even magic has its limits. I need my rest.”
“So be it,” Artemia said, which seemed like a rather unsympathetic response. “Eric and I will split the duties of watching on this night.”
It was at that moment, more than any single one during their journey, that he missed having Abe around. Abe would help provide a watch. Abe would encourage Eric to stay focused. Abe would give Eric tough love while helping him defeat Ragnor. Abe would buffer Artemia’s critiques with some well-placed encouragement. Abe would temper Eric’s cyclical thoughts and keep him under control.
But now, he was alone with a woman who had given him so much and told him everything he wanted to know but left him uncertain about how she saw him, and an elder mage whom he didn’t know anything about.
Now that Eric was with Artemia without his mentor or any other hunter, he became more curious for information about her. Her motivations. Her desires. Her goals. It felt like since Abe was gone, Eric had to take up the mantle for trying to find out the tough questions.
Abe. When we get back, I might just join you in quitting the guild. I won’t have anything left to fight for after this, anyways. So there’s no might in that, actually. We’ll just remain in Dabira until we die.
But the very thought left him feeling like he hadn’t found a big enough purpose yet. Quitting work before he had even hit his twenties just seemed… preposterous. He would live, if he stayed healthy, until at least his fifties or sixties. What would he do if he had to live his life several times over? Would his soul know peace if it didn’t have anything to do for the next several decades?
Is what he fought for actually something that would keep him going for the rest of his life? What purpose would he find if he lived past the death of Ragnor?
He wished he had someone whom he could have these conversations with. His mother. His sister. Abe. Wow. Even Tyus.
Tyus. Eric wondered what it would be like to have the rival-turned-brat-turned-friend by his side. He wondered how the son of the emperor and the emperor got along now. Was Tyus back in good graces? Or had he merely earned the right to be the first person yelled at when Emperor Syrast had one of his childish outbursts?
Wherever Tyus was, Eric hoped he was doing well. He genuinely did. He actually wished he had him here now. Funny how that works.
“I am going to sleep,” Artemia said surprisingly soon. “Wake me up upon the darkest hour of the night. At that point, we will switch roles. Romarus, please feel free to sleep as much as you want.”
She then scampered up a tree, maybe ten feet high, and found a comfortable branch to rest upon. Romarus followed, sleeping on a branch about four feet above her. Eric, left to his own thoughts, sat down, unsheathing his sword and watching the fields and sky from afar. He looked at the stars and tried to form shapes out of the star patterns. He tried to imagine what a battle with Ragnor would look like. He listened intently for every sound.
For the first couple of hours, his shift went like most watches went—boring, and requiring a great deal of concentration to not fall asleep.
Then danger rose.
The first hint came from a barely audible but intimidating, deep growl about a hundred feet to the north. Eric looked over and saw a large figure with wisps of hair rising from its back approaching slowly, like a cat trying to stalk a mouse. A behemoth.
Eric mumbled several swears as the creature seemed to eye him. But then it played coy. It zigged. It zagged. It never directly approached.
But it kept getting closer and closer by the minute, even as it played dumb. Eric recognized this method. It meant to lure the prey into a false sense of security and make the victim believe that the behemoth just happened to be in the same area.
Eric knew, though, someone or something would die in the next few minutes.
“Artemia,” he whispered loudly. “Romarus.”
He got no verbal response. That wasn’t necessarily a bad sign, given that oftentimes, communication was a luxury in the guild, but it didn’t reassure Eric either. He wanted to believe Artemia had heard him and was preparing to spring a trap on the behemoth, but how could he know?
And the mage. He probably had drifted off into eternal sleep for how old he was.
Demons of the Hunter (War of the Magi Book 2) Page 20