But after all this time. After everything that he’d fought for. He felt incomplete. Defeating Ragnor hadn’t given his soul peace.
It just made his soul more restless. What was the voice that spoke to him? Why was Ragnor not nearly the threat that the legends told of? Or the size? Everything about the fight…
“He’s dead,” Eric said. “Gone.”
Artemia did not respond at first. Eric turned to her, as if to drive the point home further, but she didn’t face him at all. Instead, her eyes focused on the crystal in the middle of the room. She walked over, but Eric didn’t care about the crystal. He just cared that he didn’t feel any better after what he’d accomplished.
This was the monster that killed Mom and Rey?
How mad had revenge made him? Did he really think killing Ragnor would have made him felt better?
Stupid. Stupid. So stupid. Not like Mom and Rey are coming back. I’m so stupid.
Artemia bent down and grabbed the crystal, her eyes widening as she felt something rush within her. Then she looked at Eric, and her eyes disturbed Eric to the soul.
“You have my other crystal, Eric,” Artemia said coldly. “I need it back.”
And look what you’ve done. You’ve followed a power-obsessed woman to an ancient castle full of monsters all so she could have more magic.
“I just needed it to defeat Ragnor,” Eric said.
“And you have done a marvelous job of that. Now, give it to me.”
Eric gulped. But it took him less than a second to know what he wanted to do.
Forget it. I’m done. I’m finding Abe and figuring things out on my own. Sorry, Abe. You were right.
She’s mad. She’s insane. I can’t let her have more power. And I don’t want any more power.
He didn’t want anything to do with dragons anymore. They hadn’t given him peace. Vengeance didn’t do anything but leave people feeling empty and wistful.
He didn’t want anything to do with the guild anymore. Artemia had given him what he wanted the previous six years. He’d fulfilled his mission based on the information she gave him. He didn’t need anything else.
He didn’t want anything to do with Artemia, most of all.
Eric had already begun to take a step back as he reached into his pocket, but when Artemia glared at him, he wished he’d taken several steps back. He wished he’d done it many months back. He wished he’d refused to join the guild when Artemia first approached him six years ago. He’d wished he’d found out his mother’s and sister’s killer on his own.
For the eyes he saw were not just the eyes of Artemia anymore. They were the eyes of a demon, a demon of a hunter.
“What are you doing?” Artemia asked. “Don’t make me ask for that crystal again.”
“I’m done,” Eric said. “This isn’t doing anything. I came here for vengeance. I came here to kill the dragon. The dragon’s dead. I guess I got what I wanted, even though it feels completely empty. I don’t have any reason to be here. None of us need this anymore. Good luck.”
“I said give it to me!”
No one can have this. No one needs it.
He tossed the crystal to her as if placating her, but he deliberately threw it short. It wound up falling into the crack.
“No!”
Artemia’s howl was unlike anything Eric had ever heard. It reeked of desperation and horror. Artemia never showed emotion. But now she showed pain, agony, and distraught grief.
And when she looked up at him, she showed something much worse.
She showed the eyes of a killer. A cold-blooded, sadistic, ruthless killer who would do anything to get her way.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Eric,” she said. “I needed that crystal to make the world right again. To change what needed change. It would have given me power!”
“I don’t care about your power,” Eric spat back. “I never have. I only cared to help you because you helped me. I’m sorry about your crystal. But I’m done. I got my revenge. I’m leaving.”
But Artemia unsheathed her sword and pointed it at Eric, and her cold gaze froze Eric in place.
“Let me make one thing clear, Eric,” she said. “You are going down that crack and you’re going to find that crystal. And you’re going to give it to me.”
“No,” Eric said.
Artemia’s eye twitched.
“You bloody waste of a life,” she said. “Do you know what happened to the last hunters who defied me? Who tried to resist my ultimate commands? Do you know what their fate was? I’ll give you a hint. It happened six years ago.”
It all came to Eric even before Artemia finished speaking.
No one in the town of Dabira actually spoke of an attack by Ragnor. Everyone talked about the day of death and death following you, but they never said it was because of Ragnor. We never saw any sign anyone had come here before.
You.
It was you who killed Roland’s daughter.
It was you who killed all those people in Dabira.
It was you who killed Mom and Rey.
You…
“I can see in your eyes you finally understand,” Artemia said. “I’m glad it took you this long to realize it. You truly are talented, but you are also so easily persuaded by your emotions you couldn’t see the truth even if it screamed in your ear. That is the benefit from approaching everything without emotions, Eric. You can see who you can control and who you can’t. Those whom I can’t control, I get rid of. Those who witness what I do to maintain power, I get rid of. However it takes.”
“I hate you!”
Eric charged, his sword aloft, no longer white, but containing all of the fury the young boy had in his soul. Now he knew the truth. And the truth hadn’t set him free so much as it had set him off.
He swung his blade at Artemia, but the guild master had such great skill that within three strikes, she had the young dragon hunter on the defensive. She pushed him to the edge and knocked his sword away from him, clanging into the crack.
“You actually thought you could kill me,” Artemia said, followed by a mocking laugh. “At least you fought back. You should have seen your mother’s face. Your sister’s, too. Both of them cried as I killed them.”
Out of weapons and out of options, Eric did the only thing he could. He knew he was dead. But at least this way, he would go out having the last strike on the demon that had haunted him for the last six years. He would have some small measure of vengeance on his family’s killer. He would not let himself become an additional conquest for the demonic dragon that was the guild master.
He spat on Artemia.
And then, with his feet lifting up, his hands crossed over his chest, his head tilted forward, and his eyes closed, Eric fell into the chasm.
EPILOGUE, PART 1
A cloudy, chilly night had descended upon Caia, one so full of wind that it seemed to reach into the deepest chambers of the imperial palace. Inside his own personal room, sitting alone, his nearest companion his personal guard outside the door, Emperor Rufus Syrast sat, drinking wine as he tried to prepare for another night of restless sleep.
His own physicians had begged him to improve his health. They asked him to drink less wine, eat less meat, and move more. They didn’t want to see him die so soon.
But Rufus didn’t see the point. His wife had died years before. His own son was… no, he wasn’t weak. No matter how much he tried to believe it, he knew he didn’t raise Tyus well. He had followed in his own father’s footsteps. He had berated his son as his father had mocked and abused him.
And his own empire was threatening to crumble around him. No matter how much he wanted to blame it on the magi, no matter how much he wanted them exterminated from Hydor, he knew he’d never get rid of them. And even if he did, he knew it would only temporarily placate the masses. They were not the real threat. His own weakness, his own failures were to blame.
But he could never admit that. For as long as he was the emperor, whatever f
ears, whatever terrors, whatever qualms he had with himself could not be shown to the world. Hydor needed a strong leader, one who acted like a god. Even if Rufus did not know what to say at such critical moments, even if he often spoke with the precision of an excited homeless person on the west side of town, he grounded himself by refusing to show weakness.
And the good news was, when his son returned shortly with the last of the magi, he wouldn’t have to show weakness, because he wouldn’t have any. The last of the imperial threats would fall, and Hydor would be his to rule as he saw fit, without any true threats. Yes. My son. You will finally earn the right to be a part of this empire. You will have earned your place in it.
He thought of what he would do to Kara, a thorn not just in his side, but buried deep in him, so embedded he wondered if he would die cursing her name. Oh, he’d make sure she suffered. He wasn’t stupid. He knew she’d planned something on the day of the ceremony and had to kill her first. He thought he’d given it away too soon, as she was able to escape, but he had never feared for his life. Not with the Shadows as predictable as they were.
A knock came at his door.
“Who dares to speak to me at this hour?” he barked as he put his glass of wine down, nearly spilling it in the process. “Don’t you know an emperor needs to rest so he can carry out his duties?”
“Sir, it’s important,” the guard on the other side of the door said. “One of our own has returned from Dabira.”
That got the emperor’s attention. He barely bothered to throw on royal robes over his wine-stained night gown as he brutishly shoved open the door and sat on his throne. He had had far more to drink than he realized, for his world swirled and blurred around him as he tried to focus on a long soldier sporting burn wounds at the bottom of his steps.
“Speak,” the emperor said as he felt a belch coming on that he didn’t bother to suppress.
“Emperor Syrast, I have returned from the town of Dabira. We did as you requested, sir. We burned the entire place to the ground.”
“Very good. And the escaped magi?”
“We didn’t find them, but I swear to you, no one could have survived that attack. We burned every building and left everything to waste. If you go where Dabira was, you will find nothing but rubble, ash, and bones.”
“Truly, you have done well. I would expect nothing less from the finest of my empire.”
But inside, Rufus felt his stomach clench and his mind knot. He’d known the Shadows were like vermin that escaped every attack, no matter how potent, no matter how far-reaching, and no matter how well-executed. Kara, especially, would be the bane of his existence, and he wouldn’t believe that she’d died until he saw her dead body—and even then, it wouldn’t hurt to remove her heart, for he did not trust her to not fake her death as a means of ambushing him.
“There is some grave news, however.”
“Let it out, no battle ever went as smoothly as planned,” the emperor said, again belching in the middle of his words.
The guard hesitated, visibly shaking. The emperor had a bad feeling from this, but he refused to show any weakness. That would be worse than anything.
“I escaped on a ship back here. I am the only survivor. I am afraid… I’m afraid, Emperor Syrast, that your son perished.”
Tyus. My only son. The future of the empire.
“But you took out Dabira and all of the magi there?”
“Ye-yes, Emperor.”
The emperor harrumphed in his chair. He couldn’t process what had happened here in front of his soldiers. Not with as much as he’d drank. Not on a night like this. Not anywhere, not anytime.
“Then we have accomplished our mission,” the emperor said, rising. “Return home, soldier. You will be rewarded for carrying out what you have done.”
Before the guard could even thank Rufus, the emperor quickly heeled and returned to his room. As soon as the door shut, he took a breath, looked down at the ground, and sighed.
Then he let out a loud curse, one that reverberated through the room. He grabbed the bottle of wine and slammed it on the table on which it sat, spilling its contents and spreading shards of glass everywhere. He took what remained and kicked it. He didn’t care that he got cut on the legs, nor did he care for the damage. Someone else would take care of it later.
He shoved the table over and kicked it, ignoring the pain in his foot.
But when he kicked the frame of his bed, he stubbed his toe too much to ignore, and he sat on the bed in agony.
He still felt as much rage as Indica had when it came to Caia. But here, the emperor knew he had placed his legacy in a dangerous spot.
He’d destroyed the asylum of the magi. But the ones who had escaped would come for him in retaliation, there was little doubt about that. And in doing so, it had cost him his only son.
My only child. My boy. The one whom I swore to not raise as I was, and then…
The emperor felt tears welling in his eyes. He swore some more and yelled, not caring that guards on the other side would hear him. If they asked him, he’d behead them. He had no time for inquiring minds to know about his feelings and thoughts.
He never cried. What tears that could have come went back down.
But as he looked out at the windy night, the howling of the wind seemed to taunt him. It seemed as powerful as if conducted by magic, and it told him that his time was at an end. His empire was coming to a close. And he’d sent his only son to die.
He didn’t know which of those hurt the most. But he knew that from now until his death, he would never forgive himself for allowing either of those to come to fruition.
EPILOGUE, PART 2
Artemia heard Eric bounce off the inside of the earth as he plummeted. She wiped away the saliva off her cheek and looked down. As she gazed, she heard the loud, definitive thud of the boy landing on rock.
For a brief moment, she contemplated going down there. The magic of elements, the external magic, that the turquoise crystal gave her was a crucial part of their victory over Ragnor. If she wanted to go north and take on the final legendary dragon, she would need that power once more.
But she saw no way down. And as it was, she didn’t think it was that necessary.
For one, she could easily find Kara, the leader of the Shadows of the Empire, back in Caia. She could either persuade her politely for the entirety of the crystal, or just kill her if necessary. To some extent, it depended on what sort of power the dark-red crystal from Ragnor would give her. She didn’t see Ragnor use magic in the fight, although she strongly suspected something was coming before Eric had finished him off.
It was almost a shame, really. The boy had so much skill as a hunter. Too bad he’d lost his mind. Too bad he’d decided to openly defy her. She never had plans to kill him, but she didn’t care much for his life either way. He had found out the truth, and it had cost him his life. The Dragon Hunter’s Guild now only had one member—her. It suited her quite fine. She wouldn’t have any competition for power. She’d always hoped for the day when she had consolidated enough power to render all other humans meaningless, and she suspected she had done just that.
She pocketed the red crystal and turned around, climbing up the stairs from which she had descended minutes ago. She made her way through the empty throne room, ignoring the darkness rapidly descending upon the temple. She climbed the next flight of stairs, went down the long, narrow hallway, and entered into the main atrium.
She’d taken two steps when a massive demon dropped in front of her, bellowing.
The blue-skinned woman in light robes appeared behind the fiery, brown-skinned demon, her fingers curling in and out. The knight with the curved sword and the horse came to her rear. She found herself surrounded.
In turn, she snickered.
“You want to kill me, is that so,” Artemia said mockingly. She raised the blood-red crystal and gazed upon each monster with a callous smile. “I slaughtered your master moments ago. Ragnor is now a bucket o
f sand in the caverns below. If you don’t believe me, take a look yourself. You’ll find that your so-called legendary dragon is now nothing more than a part of the history books.”
She prepared for an attack, but to her surprise, the demon knelt before her. So did the blue-skinned woman. So did the knight. So did all of the creatures and monsters which had escaped their ice encasements while she and the boy had slaughtered Ragnor.
“You have the power of Iblis,” the demon said. “We follow your lead. You are our master now. You summon and command us as you please.”
“Is that so?” Artemia said. Her imagination ran wild. What was elemental power compared to the ability to control monsters? Demigods? Whatever these things were? Magi looked like ants beneath a hard sandal next to these monsters. “Tell me your name, demon.”
The demon breathed hard, and its warm breath nearly caused Artemia to sweat.
“Ifrit,” it growled.
“Ifrit, rise,” Artemia said.
Ifrit stared into Artemia’s eyes. For the first time in her life, Artemia saw someone as vicious and determined as her. Ifrit—and, presumably, the other monsters—would not suffer the foolish emotions that humans and magi did. They would help her accomplish her tasks. They would overthrow the empire. They would give her the power to control all of Hydor.
They would give her the power to destroy anything that displeased her.
“I can summon and control you as I please,” Artemia said.
“Yes,” Ifrit said. “The power of Iblis, which was bestowed upon Ragnor, is to summon the great demons of the past and the present to your aide. The power you have is but a fraction of the total power of Iblis, but it is enough to control those of us present.”
Good enough, Artemia thought. When the time came, and she came across this Iblis, she would figure out her next step. But that could wait.
So, too, could the destruction of the empire and her ascent to the queen, the goddess, of Hydor. Before she could even do that, she had one last task. She had one last source of power she had to gather.
Demons of the Hunter (War of the Magi Book 2) Page 34