For a second, she considered not doing so. It didn’t matter to Abe who this man was, only that he had perished and that, as a human, he deserved a decent burial and respect. That alone had convinced Zelda this former dragon hunter was not a monster.
Then she changed her mind. It was the erasing of history, the forgetfulness of the past, the deliberate destruction of the truth that the empire pushed so hard. Garo, as a legend, could not be forgotten. Even if most people did not care, she had to spread his story to as many people as she could until someone listened to her. If Abe listened, wonderful.
If he didn’t, that was his choice, but he had to at least know the truth.
“His name is Garo, actually,” Zelda said. “He went by Gaius while in Caia to hide his identity, but his name is Garo. He was the greatest mage that ever lived. And more than that, he was the greatest man I ever knew.”
“You speak of him in awe.”
Zelda wanted to explain what it was that made Garo so great. A mage of great power, of great influence, of great historical relevance—but beyond that, a father figure to her, a man who taught her to read and to write, a man who had done many things to ensure she did not wind up like so many other magi in Caia had.
But she couldn’t. She just found tears welling in her eyes whenever she started to speak. She gave up after the third attempt. Abe didn’t have to know everything. He’d heard enough.
“I’m so sorry, Zelda,” Abe said. “To lose someone like that…”
He did not finish the words.
“Let us finish this burial site. You need some rest. We can figure out what to do in the morning.”
Zelda agreed with him. After about an hour of digging, they had completely buried Garo, his body now belonging to the world of Hydor. She collapsed to her knees, with Abe stepping back out of earshot.
“Garo,” she said as she sought the courage to speak. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. Thank you for what you did for the magi. Thank you for what you did for me. You will not be forgotten. You will live forever through the stories of the magi. Thank you.”
She paused. She had one last step to take, but before she could, she wanted to reflect on what had changed. Because once she finished burying Garo, her time in Dabira was over. She and Abe would have to leave for either Caia or Ragnor.
Deep within her, she knew, laid a demon capable of destroying the entire world. The demon would destroy anyone who so much as glanced at her the wrong way.
But the demon had to exist in order to destroy evil. She had to fight fire with fire. Only by embracing her dark side could she control it, and only by controlling it could she fight the empire and those who threatened Hydor.
She disliked having to fight on evil’s terms. She wanted to believe that all of her actions followed Mama’s words.
But perhaps she had just misunderstood Mama up until now. Using her magic for good did not mean every action was good. It meant that her purpose, her cause, was good.
She looked at Abe, who had turned to look at the waves gently crashing. Garo had perished, but it was like his wisdom had passed into this new man before her. As long as she had someone just to fight with, that was good enough. She’d figure out a more nuanced, achievable, realistic cause later.
“OK,” Zelda said as a single tear fell from her right eye. “Garo. May your soul find peace with Chrystos.”
CHAPTER 19: ERIC
The doors creaked open at a slow, grinding pace, the noise amplified by the growls that now had no ceiling, no wall, and no obstacle in the way. These doors, much like the others, had accumulated layer upon layer of dust, ice, and rust, making their opening difficult.
But if the other doors had gradually built up some momentum upon the hunters’ first push, these doors provided no such luxury. Each inch was as difficult as the last, and Eric and Artemia silently reached an agreement with a head nod to open the door only wide enough so that they could enter. When they’d gotten enough space, Eric paused. Even Artemia slumped forward, her hands resting on the wood.
A groan came, slightly more voluminous and threatening than the growls before it.
Eric sucked in as much air as he could, held his chest high, and prepared for perhaps his final battle.
A final battle with Ragnor. A final battle with death itself.
The door did not shut. It would remain still where it was opened to, neither opening nor closing another centimeter. Eric, though, would not run, no matter how much damage he sustained in the coming minutes.
“Ready?” Artemia asked.
Even she sounded nervous. Gone was the thirst for power, the insanity from chasing limitless potential, and the greed for more. A true sense of respect and fear had taken over the guild master.
“Ready to find peace,” Eric said. He bowed his head and, thinking of Rey and his mother, mumbled quietly, “My soul will not know peace until yours does.”
He extended his head just beyond the opening of the door, trying to sneak a peek at his nemesis.
Within, he saw a stone floor with numerous cracks lining the ground. Chains hung from the ceiling. A small amount of red light from the magic made its way down, but the illumination provided gave only a rough outline, like holding dirty glass in front of a torch. Skulls and skeletons of different kinds littered the massive room.
And there, in the center. Eric could only see the outline, but he knew it to be him. The legendary red-scaled dragon.
“Ragnor.”
Its jaw jutted out to a sharp point, instead of the rounded feature that most dragons possessed. The bottom of its jaws were massive. He could make out what looked like a horn protruding, but he couldn’t say for sure. Everything else fell into the shadows of darkness.
He gulped. Finally, after all of these years, he’d come face to face with his killer.
As if by magic, the room became more illuminated. He saw Artemia come to his side in his peripheral vision, and slowly, Ragnor came further into view.
Fire itself seemed to brew within the dragon’s chest, for the luminosity of red light from Ragnor’s chest flickered. Its back had rough, pointed grooves going all the way to the tip of its tail, a spear in its own right. Two massive horns, like that of a demon, started on each side of the dragon’s head, curled up and back in.
But one thing struck Eric as peculiar. For as much as Ragnor looked like he had seen in the paintings—red-and-black scales, burning yellow eyes, four limbs, massive red wings—it didn’t quite have the size that the legends had told. Everything he’d heard, dreamed, and read said that Ragnor had the kind of size that could crush multiple buildings just by placing his claws upon them.
Ragnor’s current size was nothing to laugh at. It could probably have destroyed a building on its own. But it looked more like Indica, not a destroyer of worlds.
“This is Ragnor?” Eric said.
But when the dragon bellowed, it did so with such a roar that debris fell from the ceiling, raining ice and dust upon the hunters. It reared its head back. Oh yes. This is Ragnor.
“Run!”
Eric and Artemia split up as a massive burst of red flames shot out of Ragnor’s mouth, engulfing the spot that the two hunters had occupied less than a second ago. Eric’s skin seared even with the distance he had gotten. He slammed himself against the wall as Ragnor bellowed once more. It moved forward, coming closer to the hunters. Eric looked back and saw that the ground it had rested upon was cracked, the two lines cutting each other perpendicularly. It’s guarding something. Its essence?
But he had no time to waste, for the legendary dragon turned its eyes toward Eric and launched more fire. Eric moved, but the dragon’s fire followed.
“Artemia!”
Ragnor’s fire had nearly reached him when it cut off abruptly, letting out a surprise cry of pain. Eric saw Artemia, her sword embedded with the element of ice, hacking at Ragnor. The monster spun with shocking ferocity, staring down the guild master. Eric cursed as he charged at the dragon, hoping
to give Artemia a chance to get some ground. He ducked under its tail, sidestepped it again, and then jumped on the creature’s rear, slicing at its scales with his sword.
Ragnor howled and bucked Eric back, but Eric rolled when he landed, avoiding the kind of injury that had damaged him so badly in his fight against Indica.
“Ragnor!” he yelled as the dragon turned to him. “I am going to make sure your soul never knows peace!”
Ragnor roared back.
“Artemia!”
“This is working, Eric!” she yelled on the other side. “Take turns striking the monster when it is not paying attention!”
And so, for the next several minutes, they did just that. Ragnor roared in pain, blood spewing from behind as the two hunters alternated strikes on the legendary dragon. They’d figured it out so quickly, Eric wondered if it was too easy. Indica killed dozens of our men. There’s no way Ragnor would fall to just two of us.
But Eric’s confidence and bravado proved short-lived.
When he had his turn to draw the dragon’s attention, Artemia charged once more. But this time, Ragnor baited the guild master in, and when she came to close, it whipped its tail violently into her. The impact sent her flying against the nearest wall. She dropped her sword and slumped over, unconscious.
Eric swore as Ragnor roared in almost sheer laughter, knowing it had tilted the battle drastically in its favor. As if to prove a point, its wings flapped, creating such strong wind Eric had to take a step back with his rear leg to ground himself. The monster rose about fifty feet in the atrium and reared its head back.
“You worthless—”
Eric moved before he could finish as Ragnor’s fire cascaded from the ceiling. Eric escaped, but not without feeling his neck burn. He saw that the ground had actually sunk and was still burning, so intense were the great dragon’s flames.
Now alone, now staring down his mother’s and sister’s killer, he understood why Artemia’s previous hunt had failed. Hunters alone could not defeat legendary dragons. Humans, period, didn’t have that capability. Only the magi could, and their one willing mage, Romarus, had sacrificed himself to get Eric and Artemia inside.
Only magi.
Or…
A prayer of an idea came to him. He had no idea if it would work, but given his limited options—reduced to one—he had to try it. Otherwise, he would die staring defiantly at Ragnor, but not exactly having done much to bring the soul of his mother and sister to peace.
Dodging the fire of Ragnor from above, Eric zigged and zagged his way to Artemia, still lying unconscious on the ground. He eyed her neck and saw his target—the crystal which had endowed her with magical power.
Just as Ragnor launched a fury of fire, Eric rolled out of the danger, swiping at her necklace. He had to rip it from her neck, breaking the chains and preventing him from putting it neatly on himself, but that would suffice. He gripped the crystal and waited for magic to happen.
Nothing happened.
“C’mon, c’mon,” he mumbled to himself as he continued to dart around the room, cognizant of but not focusing on the massive legendary dragon above him and its fire. He ran to the far side of the room, as far away from Ragnor as he could get. He clutched at the crystal and tried to imagine using magic.
But how would that work, exactly? How had Artemia figured it out in the first place? He didn’t expect to suddenly become a god of magic, but he would’ve thought his sword would’ve at least become colder as he thought of using an ice spell on it.
He swore repeatedly, a sense of frustration overtaking him as Ragnor slowly approached. He knew the dragon felt overconfident about its place in battle, for with Artemia out of action, it barely had to move to get into firing range.
“Come on!”
Then he heard a loud thump. The ground shook underneath him. He looked up with a start to see Ragnor literally inches from his face, staring him down.
Ragnor sneered, snorted, and opened its jaws. On pure instinct, Eric swung his sword up, but he knew he was dead. The size, the strength, the sharpness of the teeth all meant Eric would die. Death. Come. Take me. I’ve earned it.
But when he closed his eyes, he didn’t feel anything.
He could hear Ragnor crying in pain, a shriek of a cry. But he didn’t feel his nemesis’ teeth piercing his skin. He didn’t feel his bones crunch, his organs crushed, or his life fading.
He opened his eyes and gazed in awe at the sword.
It glowed so bright, Eric had to cover his eyes. Beyond it, Ragnor shook its face wildly and even brought its claws up to its jaws, trying to shake off whatever the sword’s magic had done to it. It staggered haphazardly, off-balance.
In the presumed moment of death, Eric had found a new depth to his soul. Mom. Rey. I don’t know if this is because of you. I don’t know if you gave me that magic.
But I know that everything I do after this is in your name. Your souls are about to know peace.
“Ragnor!” Eric bellowed.
His eyes narrowed, his breathing intensified, and his gaze bore into the soul of the dragon before him. Hatred flowed through his veins with as much ease as his blood. For six long years, he’d waited for this moment. He finally had the legendary dragon staggering after staring death in the face multiple times.
Now it was time to laugh at death. It was time to finish off Ragnor.
It was time to give peace to the souls of Rey and Mom.
“Your time is at an end!” he cried. “Die!”
Ragnor bellowed back, but Eric didn’t care. He had the dragon wounded. His sword glowing white, the legendary dragon rearing in pain, Eric charged.
Ragnor shot flames, but its own injury prevented it from shooting effective fire. Eric easily dodged whatever flames the beast shot and reached Ragnor within seconds.
It was like the demon inside Eric had awoken. He struck with such a fury and screamed with every hack with such rage that he was barely conscious of what he was doing. He wanted to tear every scale off of this dragon. He wanted all the blood poured out of Ragnor. He wanted it to suffer in agony for the next six years before it would die. He wanted to tear its wings off, its claws off, its limbs off, its horns off, all of it.
Eric had not just unleashed his inner demon. He had become it.
His cries became incomprehensible, like a tiger mauling its prey. Ragnor bucked and tried to fight back, but Eric had straddled its neck and cut so viciously that the dragon couldn’t do anything.
How long passed with Eric slicing and destroying Ragnor, he could not say. It wasn’t long enough. It wasn’t six years worth.
The dragon collapsed, unable to support itself, and let out a weak cry. Eric got off the beast and came face to face with the monster. Its eyes narrowed in hatred of the hunter before it.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” Eric said, his arms trembling. “No matter. I’m not waiting a second longer.”
He lifted his sword.
But he paused when he noticed something.
The eyes of Ragnor, formerly yellow, had begun pulsating with a dark red color. It went from yellow to a barely visible red to a darker red to a blood red, its power seeming to rise by the minute.
“No!” Eric shouted. “You die!”
He slammed his blade through the skull of Ragnor, but still the beast’s eyes pulsated. No longer, though, did the dragon before him move like a living being. Instead, it seemed to shake like a puppet, its eyes moving, limbs sporadically shaking, but with no cohesion to it.
The ground beneath Eric’s feet shook, as if an earthquake had just struck. Beyond the dragon, Artemia awoke but remained on the ground.
“What did you do?” she shouted.
Eric had no idea. He looked back down at the dragon and saw the eyes pulsating with red faster than it had before. The crack which it had covered split wider apart, and the very ground on which Eric stood seemed to groan in pain. Was this Ragnor’s final strike? Even in death, could he haunt Eric wit
h an attack that would destroy the world with him?
He braced himself as Ragnor shuddered and shook as if having a seizure. Soon, the shaking on the ground knocked Eric off his feet.
Then he watched in horror as Ragnor lifted in the air without its wings beating, the puppet metaphor feeling a little too real right now. The dragon’s shaking no longer followed what was physically possible, as its wings bent out of their sockets, its jaw broke open, and blood poured forth.
“This whole place is going to collapse!” Artemia said. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
But every time both of them rose to their feet, the ground shook with more force. Above them, chunks of the ceiling collapsed. Eric had to roll twice just to dodge the debris.
Then, without any warning whatsoever, the shaking stopped.
Ragnor dropped to the ground, its body a gruesome, disembodied mess. Still, after all that, its eyes remained blood red.
“Not yet.”
Eric looked around. He swore he had just heard someone or something demonic speak. It was twisted, inhuman, and deeper than the harshest of growls from any dragon he’d ever met.
“Did you hear that?” Eric said. He quickly pulled his sword back out of Ragnor’s skull, preparing for another battle.
“Hear what?” Artemia said.
“It sounded like a demon,” Eric said.
“She cannot hear me,” the voice said, followed by a dark laugh. “Not yet.”
Suddenly, Ragnor began dissolving with no apparent cause. Its skin turned to dust, the black and red scales transforming into specks of sand that fell into the cracks that had now become large enough to fall into. Eric and Artemia could easily leap across them, but they had to be aware of them.
The dust settled and there appeared another crystal.
This one was red, like the eyes of Ragnor. But it was only about the size of the one that Eric had in his pocket, and Eric could’ve sworn that Artemia had gotten her crystal off of something much larger.
Something about this didn’t add up.
Yes, he’d fought Ragnor. He’d won. He’d gotten what he’d hoped to achieve.
Demons of the Hunter (War of the Magi Book 2) Page 33