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

by Stephen Allan

  A couple of times, when Tetra moved forward and gestured wildly, Garo tensed, his arm flexing. Zelda felt the presence of energy within her, ready to explode forth as a weapon for the magi. She didn’t like admitting it, but she was curious to know what sort of power she could use in a fight like this.

  But then Roland emerged a second time to stop Tetra. Zelda feared that Tetra might kill him first, but when she noticed Garo’s posture relax and his hand leave his sword, she slowly let the energy fade from within.

  The other magi in the area took note of Roland’s orders, their shoulders dropping and their faces becoming less taut. Tetra may have been dangerous, but she was not stupid. The enemy of her enemy was her friend, and that was true even if the true enemy was not present at the dock of Dabira.

  But the way Tetra looked as she stormed toward Zelda, Yeva, and Garo, she knew that peace hadn’t come. She knew the soldiers still hated her kind. She knew Tetra and other sympathetic magi still sought the annihilation of the soldiers.

  That boy, Tyus. The son of the emperor—he was at the ceremony. He didn’t look like he wanted to be there. Tetra wouldn’t listen to him.

  Maybe…

  Maybe I can reach him. Maybe I can talk to him. Maybe I can bring peace to us all.

  “Tetra—” Garo said, but Tetra stormed past him.

  She also stormed past Yeva and Zelda. Yeva said her name, but that did not draw a response from Tetra either. The name caught in Zelda’s throat as she thought better of speaking her real name in this town. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted Tetra’s attention. An angry, thwarted Tetra had to be the most dangerous form of Tetra possible.

  “Let her go,” Garo said. “I know it does not look it. But she will return soon enough in a calmer state.”

  “I hope she’s OK,” Zelda said. “She doesn’t seem like she is now.”

  “She will be. The question, as it always has been for the past few decades, is how long it will take before she gets there.”

  Zelda’s shoulders slumped. She looked back at the guards, many of them ones who had probably tried to hunt for them in Caia. How many had emerged from the west gates, thirsty for their blood, only to see them vanish into thin air? How frustrated and rabid would that make them?

  Tyus spoke to them, and though they looked at him, Zelda did not get an overwhelming sense of support and loyalty on their behalf. Their eyes glazed over, and they looked to be staring at the distance beyond Tyus, not actually at the young boy. How tough it must have been to be the son of a brutal dictator and how awful it must have been for him to have a nearly completely opposite personality.

  She almost had sympathy for him. No, not almost—she did.

  Did that make her weak? If it did, Zelda didn’t mind feeling so weak. Sometimes, weak people softened the damage that “strong” people produced. Like light and darkness, magi and humans, dragons and nature, lightning and sun, storms and cloudless days, dualities needed to exist even when it seemed one side bogged the other down.

  “Come,” Garo said. “Though Kara will eventually calm, the tension in this place is distressingly high. We cannot control if this is the wrong time, but we can control if you are in the wrong place. We must retreat to Maria’s home quickly.”

  Zelda tried to walk at an amiable pace, but she felt her legs wanting to carry her further, her feet desiring to match the speed at which her thoughts went, her heart beating faster the closer she got to the home. She both wanted to believe Garo’s words and feared Tetra disappearing to plot a quick strike against the soldiers. She could see the men setting off to sail just as easily as she could see the light of flames illuminating the town long after the sun had set.

  I have to speak to Tyus. He’s my age. I can speak to him. I can do good like Mama said. We can bring peace to Hydor. Unlike Tetra and his father.

  They reached the house and saw a hooded figure sitting on the steps, mindlessly playing with their hands. It took barely any time to register Tetra hiding under that hood, especially when it sighed and exhaled heavily.

  “About time.” Tetra spat. “Come. Inside. Now.”

  Tetra, indeed.

  I’m not sure I’m happy I’m right, though. It’s going from scared to nervous.

  Zelda, Yeva, and Garo entered the house. Garo groaned as he opened the door, saying something about his knees feeling stiff. Zelda looked back, observing the elder who had begun to show his true age. Whatever years he’d taken off after the victory over Indica had returned after the imperial ambush, and the groaning had only amplified it. She had a feeling it wasn’t his knees that bothered him, but seeing his wife in such an enraged state.

  Maria and her children were nowhere to be seen or heard. Zelda could only wonder if the woman had offered the group shelter, only to realize what she’d brought upon herself. She would have immediately taken her children to a neighboring home where such extremism did not reside and where death did not follow like an unrelenting predator. Frankly, Zelda would’ve done the same with her mother if she’d only heard stories of “Kara” before encountering her.

  As soon as Garo entered, Tetra went over and slammed the door. She fiddled with it as it bounced off the frame, cursing under her breath as she jammed it into a closed position. When she finished—seemingly having accomplished nothing of actual value with the door—she stood at the edge of the hallway to the kitchen. Almost instinctively and deferentially, Zelda, Yeva, and Garo all sat down.

  Tetra removed the hood of the robe from her face. If Garo had seemed to age as things got worse, Tetra seemed to have her anger etched further into her face. It created an almost haunting image to see the body and face of a girl no older than her mid-twenties but the subtle markings of a woman who had lived through centuries of warfare, lies, and hostilities—and to have it come to all but a full head at this moment.

  “Any of you who assume that something bloody is not going to happen are beyond foolish,” she said. “I am not letting Tyus leave us. I am not letting any of them leave us. I—”

  “Tetra.”

  “You will give me my space to speak, Garo. After that point, if it still pleases you, you may retort. Don’t you dare interrupt me before then.”

  Garo went silent. Zelda wondered how long had Tetra become this cold-blooded dictator of a wife—and then tried to imagine her as Garo had described her. Was this just a case of a man yearning for the youth of a woman who had grown old in the soul and ragged in the mind to him? Or did he genuinely remember her in that light? How did he see his wife now, a woman who looked as young as Zelda but as wicked as… dare she say Emperor Syrast?

  Zelda wished she had lived a bit longer than her fourteen years so that she could have a better perspective on the matter. But she knew she would get no such benefit without the only way forward—with the passage of time. Not even magic could help her with that.

  “The last time he came near us, we captured him and made use of him as a hostage. I plan on doing the same thing here. However, the previous time, we also took the boy I manipulated and his master into captivity due to their effective combat skills. They were also not completely, blindly, stupidly loyal to the empire. I will have none of that here. I will have the soldiers all slaughtered before sunrise, preferably in front of Tyus so he knows what he is up against.. This has gotten us an audience before, and it will get us an audience again. And this time, I will not wait for the most dramatic or presentable moment. I will kill the emperor, even if it comes in the basement of the palace with no one but the two of us around, and then I will drag his head around the city for all to see. I no longer care if people doubt the sight, for if they do not fear the visual, they will fear my power. The message will be sent, even if I cannot do so in the moment. And when we are done with the emperor, we will give Tyus two options—to live as a slave of the magi, or die.”

  Her voice had risen throughout her speech, nearing complete anger unlike anything Zelda had seen from her before. Zelda wondered if Tetra would even bother
to listen to the rebuttals of the three seated magi—and if they declined, Zelda couldn’t see that stopping Tetra from carrying out her plan. If the emperor transformed into Bahamut, Tetra would probably fight him alone.

  “A wise plan based on past results, my dear,” Garo said, bringing a noticeable twitch to the cheek of Tetra. Zelda tried to analyze it, but Garo quickly resumed, forcing her to focus on his words, not her actions. “But past results do not guarantee future outcomes. I think you overestimate the love that the emperor has for his son. In fact, I daresay that you make a mistake in even acknowledging its existence.”

  “Wrong,” Tetra snapped. “Wrong. Wrong! I know the emperor. You are right that he is incapable of love to people. But. For one thing, he has love. Love of power and relevance. Nothing would drive him more mad than to know that when he dies, his empire goes with him. He may despise Tyus as a person, but he loves him as a symbol and as a last name to continue the Syrast Empire. He has no one else who would carry the name forward. His last breath may be to call his son weak or to curse him, but he will do what it takes to bring him back. Think of how much it will stress Rufus to know that his son—no, his name—is in danger of vanishing from Hydor.”

  “And what would you do with an audience?” Garo said.

  Tetra coiled her fists. Zelda could almost see an illumination of magic appearing on her fists, a sort of blueish glow that resembled the crystal’s turquoise color. What sort of powers had Tetra unlocked with this crystal? What… what could she do? No, what would she do? And would she do something to the three magi before her?

  “Do I need repeat myself, Garo?”

  The words lacked any semblance of love, compassion, or openness. It was as frightening a note as anything Zelda could observe between a husband and a wife.

  “I said I wish to kill the emperor,” she said. “Don’t make me repeat my words again.”

  “And what then? We have an audience. Look where it’s gotten us. People continue to die. Let the boy go. Let him run back to his father. I watched the boy and his friends when we had him captured. He has the bravery of a deer seeing a behemoth chasing after it. Yes, I support you Tetra, but I want to support your wise choices. I know what I have said about supporting you, but I believe the best thing we can do with the power that we have here is hold the line in this city. Make it known that anyone who comes here armed will be killed. We can erase the empire from our lives without bringing more destruction and death. If we kill people here, we condemn the lives of the magi here. If we send a party at a later date to take out the emperor, we minimize the damage to ourselves. I know I said I would follow your lead. But I want your lead to step in the right direction with what I believe.”

  Tetra’s eyes narrowed with anger and unbridled rage, but Zelda noted that she did not necessarily disagree with Garo. Which was good, because nothing Garo had said seemed unintelligent. In fact, it seemed ideal. Less dangerous, definitely.

  “What say you, Zelda and Yeva?” Garo said. “You are two of the most powerful magi I have ever come across. You are the future. You are what I refer to when I say the power we have here. It is only right that if we make decisions that echo through time, that you two have some say in which direction those actions echo.”

  “Don’t kill Tyus, please,” Zelda said.

  Her words started as a plea, but after clearing her throat and pausing for a second, she found herself. Even though Tetra’s eyes pierced her soul, even though they burned with more fire than Indica’s, she stood, a woman who had grown stronger not just with magic but with her confidence with each passing day.

  “I can only imagine what Mama would have felt had I perished. The emperor is a sick man and needs to go, but I really believe Tyus is a good person. He’s just in a bad spot.”

  “Is he?” Tetra said, but her voice sounded desperate, almost pleading for an excuse. That didn’t make her words any less intense, though. “Did you know, Zelda, that he cut off a mage’s head? Did you know that those around him laughed as he did it?”

  Zelda did not know that. It sickened her to hear the words said so… callously. But then she noticed Tetra had not mentioned one name.

  “But not Tyus? Did he not laugh?”

  Tetra went silent. Her intensity remained unwavering, a force that threatened to create chaos with magic in a matter of seconds.

  “No matter what happens here, girls, I want you far away from Caia from here on out,” Garo said. “And, frankly, I’d rather us be on the other side of town this night. I do not wish for you to be involved in this any further, at least while the guards are here. I did not even consider fighting Bahamut until I was sixteen, and did not get dragged into it by the emperor until much later. At fourteen… I cannot comprehend what that must be like. You may be the future of this city, but you’re not the present. You’ve witnessed enough.”

  “Garo!” Yeva said. “I witnessed Norius die. I’m sure Zelda has seen many other things too. How much worse can things get? Why should we stand on the sideline when we killed Indica? What else can there be?”

  “Do not make me answer that,” Garo said.

  “My mom died,” Zelda said softly.

  Even Tetra’s aura diminished some at Zelda’s words.

  “And for that, I grieve terribly,” Garo said. “But you should know, Zelda, that it can get worse. How? It’s not because someone else can die. It’s because something can die. Hope. Hope can die. The more death you see of life, the less you cling to the strength of hope. Once you lose hope, it all falls apart. No matter how powerful you are. Hope is what keeps me going every day. Hope to see peace. I’ve experienced every worldly pleasure that there is, every emotion, every joy, every pitfall. Every ‘once in a lifetime’ experience, and every supposed daily moment that comes around less often than most think. I don’t need to be alive, nor do I need to know what death is. Only hope keeps me going. Yes, my hope for peace has all but vanished. At times, I may even say that I have lost hope. But my words do not quite literally reflect my beliefs and thoughts. If you see hope die, you will see everything else fall with it. That is true for everyone—for me, for you, for Tetra, for Tyus, even for the emperor. What we hope for may vary, but we all must have hope if we wish to keep going.”

  Zelda said nothing as she bit her lip.

  “Tetra, I will stay up with you tonight. I do not want you making plans of death and serious consequence when you are controlled by your emotions. Zelda and Yeva, go upstairs. It is my hope that when the sun rises, Dabira also rises as an independent state, one unencumbered by constant warfare.”

  “Wait,” Zelda said. “You say it can get worse if hope dies. My hope… I have a hope that I can speak to Tyus. I want to speak to him myself.”

  “You?!” Tetra said, making no effort to hide her disgust. “And what makes you think that the son of the emperor is going to listen to a fourteen year old mage?”

  “Tetra!” Garo snapped with surprising anger. Tetra snorted but added nothing more. “Zelda, continue.”

  Zelda felt terrified speaking of her plan. It wasn’t even a plan. It was, in the truest sense of the word, a hope that she hadn’t given more than a passing thought to. But now the other three magi expected her to come up with something, and so she spoke, the words entering her mind moments before they came off her tongue.

  “I have not spoken to Tyus before, I will not say that we have done so. But when I saw him at the ceremony… I saw a boy who didn’t support his father. His words seemed genuine. I felt like he really wanted to bridge the gap between magi and humans.”

  Tetra rolled her eyes. Zelda paused, collected herself, and continued.

  “I… I think if peace is going to come, it should come from us. Tetra, I… I think you want to fight the empire too much. Tyus barely got a word in—”

  Tetra left mid-sentence, walking up the stairs, the door above slamming so loudly that dust from the ceiling fell, coating Zelda’s hair. Zelda bit her lip, emotional that one of her biggest support
ers had walked out on her so viciously, so cruelly.

  “Do you have anything more to add, Zelda?” Garo asked.

  No. Nothing more needs to be said. She shook her head.

  “I appreciate the sentiments, Zelda, but I stand by what I said earlier. I truly believe we cannot act upon our emotions, and it is an understatement to say that emotions are running at their highest right now. I ask that you two go upstairs, obviously to a separate room from Tetra. I will go to her. I will not pretend that Tetra will be calm the next time you see her, but she will be calmer than she is now.”

  Zelda bit her lip and looked to Yeva. The other girl looked worn down, unsure of who to support. There would be many more intense, difficult conversations, but this was not the hour for them. It was just a silly hope, I suppose. I’m just a young girl. Garo and Tetra have lived for centuries. They’ll figure it out.

  Zelda begrudgingly departed with Yeva to the upstairs bedroom as Garo watched them carefully.

  “I’m so tired, so, so tired,” Yeva said with a yawn. “I barely slept last night. If it weren’t for Garo’s orders, I’d be back at my parents’ house.”

  She then curled up on the far side of the bed, turning away from Zelda and facing the corner where she would more easily sleep. Parents. How many more parents will die without peace? How would Yeva feel if her mom perished?

  “Wake me up if anything happens.”

  Zelda said she would. Within a few minutes, the sound of Yeva breathing gently filled Zelda’s ears. She looked outside the window and saw the sun just beginning to dip below the horizon. She knew if she were to make a move, she would have to do so now. There was no chance Tetra would put aside her plans of mass murder. There was very little chance, from her own observations, that the guards had listened to Tyus. He needed a stronger message. The magi needed a less violent spokesperson and leader.

  But to openly defy Garo… he was the most powerful mage of all time! He was the one who had defeated Bahamut, founded Dabira, lived for centuries, and seen just about everything. If anyone knew what the right approach was, it was him. Was going against his wishes such a wise move?