Even with that explanation, Eric just couldn’t understand.
“Why? Why is she like this?”
Surely, she could have overcome this.
“Part of it is how she is. It’s almost as if the soul of Iblis is within her. Some of that is her childhood. It’s true that her parents ignored her and her brother bullied her. But it’s also true that her brother changed at some point, but Artemia never did.”
“And her parents?”
“Dead from dragon hunts. Her parents died when she was ten.”
Almost too perfect.
“Her brother raised her from there. Abuse, violence, breakdowns, you name it, it came to her. While I feel sorrow for her past, that does not allow for her current situation. You must do everything you can to stop her, Eric. She is the greatest threat that Hydor faces now. She is going to go and hunt Bahamut. If she succeeds in killing it, the balance of the world will be in peril and ruined. And it won’t be just because she will have the essence of the king of kings.”
It seemed obvious enough to Eric. That’s what she’d wanted to accomplish this whole time. Then…
“So why am I here?”
Rey smiled that same guilty-but-playing-innocent smile as before. For the briefest of moments, it lifted him out of his anger to Artemia.
“You have lived your life for vengeance, seeking to kill the dragon Ragnor at first, believing it was it who killed Mom and I,” she said. Hearing the words “killed Mom and I” still stirred deep emotions within. Learning the truth hadn’t erased six years of false beliefs that easily. “And now, surely, a part of you will seek to kill Artemia for vengeance. That will alleviate Hydor’s most pressing problem. But that’s not enough, Eric.”
“What do you mean?”
But he already had a feeling about the answer before he’d even asked for it.
“Remember how empty you felt after defeating Ragnor?” Rey asked. Of course I do. It feels like it just happened. “Defeating Artemia will only produce the same empty feelings. You must ask yourself why you are fighting Artemia. And if you want to have the rest of your life live out with meaning, it must be for a reason beyond vengeance.”
Eric understood that on some level. He thought about the doubts he’d experienced during his journey to the south. Even before Ragnor had dissolved to dust, he knew he hadn’t found a purpose deep enough.
But what was it, then? What would he fight for that existed outside of himself? His difficulty in finding the answer had pushed him away from questioning before.
“I can see you’re thinking about it,” Rey said. “That is good. That’s very good! It means you want to learn. This is promising, Eric. I’m happy.”
“Thanks,” Eric said, more reflexively than appreciative. “But Rey…”
“What?”
“How do you know all this?”
Rey smiled. Then her body slowly began to become hazy and smoky. She never disappeared entirely, but a sort of blue fog appeared around her. Above her, faint yellow eyes appeared.
“I took on a form that I thought you would find most appealing,” a voice inside Eric’s head said. “Had I shown my true form earlier in conversation, I fear it would have driven you mad and I would not have been able to save you.”
Eric looked at what his sister had become. The blue aura around her swayed and moved, as if alive, and the yellow eyes just above it narrowed and widened as if examining the hunter closely.
“At a time like this, you would normally join me in the afterlife. But there is a great danger in Hydor, and you are one of the few people capable of stopping it. Before I can return you to Hydor, I must know that you will continue to think of your purpose.”
“To fight dragons, or in this case, Artemia, no?”
“That is a start. But man cannot have a temporary purpose, for that will leave him empty and unfulfilled when he accomplishes it or gives up. Your purpose need not be so concrete as to have a defined moment of success or failure, but it must drive you for the duration of your lifetime.”
“I don’t even know—”
“You do not need to, Eric Garland. It will come in time. But know this. Your mother and father wanted to ensure that dragons did not encroach upon humanity’s cities and vice versa. Before Artemia slaughtered her brother, he desired to use the guild not as an offensive weapon, but a defensive guard against wayward dragons. Use that as an example to help you. The longer you wait to find your answer, the less fulfillment you will have in what remains of your short life.”
The vision of Rey began to fade as a more towering figure, one with blue skin, a larger body, and what looked like thick fur appeared. It had what looked like two antlers as it rose high above Eric.
“You cannot stay here for long, Eric, or you will pass on into the afterlife forever, at which point there is no return. You must leave behind your sister and your mother. You can keep them in your memories, but once you leave here, you will not see them in your dreams again. Only in death will you see them again. So I ask you, Eric—do you want to help save Hydor, or do you want to see your family again?”
Even two days ago, the answer would have required no thought. Let the world rot as he held Rey and his mother close to him. Hydor didn’t matter. The empire, the magi, the dragons, they could all slaughter each other in the days to come.
Now, though, he remembered clearly his feelings when he’d defeated Ragnor. How empty it felt. How he realized all that he’d fought for felt like an illusion. He couldn’t fight for what he held onto in the past, but what he hoped to see in the future.
It was a future without Rey or his mother. But it was a future with Hydor—only, however, if Artemia fell. But if Artemia fell, he swore that his journey would not end there. The enemy was an individual, but it was also a mentality, a fear of others. He would fight to end that for as long as it took.
It sounded good in his head. He didn’t entirely believe it. He had a feeling in the coming days, he would doubt the validity of his new focus.
But… it made sense on some level. And if it kept him alive, even if it meant he’d never see his family until death came…
“I will help save Hydor,” he said with some sadness in his voice. “I will… I will do that.”
He could not bring himself to say “I will leave my family in the afterlife.”
“I understand the pain of your choice. Know that many throughout history have made sacrifices like you have and many will in the future. All will be rewarded when my time to enter Hydor comes.”
Suddenly, in the most concrete form since the blue aura appeared, his mother and his sister appeared. His mother had her hands on Rey’s shoulders.
Then a third figure appeared, placing his arm around Eric’s mother and his hand on Rey’s shoulder.
Dad. Father.
“I will let you have one last goodbye,” the voice said. “You will see them when the time comes for you to move on.”
Eric ran up and embraced his mother and sister tight, sniffling. No dream would pull them away now. No illusion would disappear. He knew, in his heart, the souls of his family stood before him.
Then he looked to his father, and the way he smiled at him, he knew it was genuine. Perhaps in real life, Auron had not shown much emotion. But here, he couldn’t stop smiling.
“You are a very brave soul,” his father said. “No matter what happens, know that your mother and I are proud of you.”
“And me!” Rey piped in, drawing laughter. Eric bit his lip, wondering why only in the hazy purgatory between life and death, kept conscious by some god-like being, could he have a memory with he and his family together.
“Do not cry,” his mother said as she gently placed her hand on his cheek. It was soft, without callouses, unmarked by the days of being a hunter. “This is not a dream. This is real, Eric. You may not see us again, but you will know us. You will carry us with you. We are but a legend to you now. You must go and make your own. Do you understand?”
; Eric grabbed his mother’s hand. He didn’t want to let go.
But unlike before, when he clung to her in his dreams, he could let her go. He would see her again. And when he did, it would come at the right time. And I know there will be days I’ll want her back. But I know I’ll see her someday.
“I do,” he said. “I do understand.”
He and his mother embraced tightly. She even sniffled too.
“I love you, Eric,” she said, her voice wavering. “Go save Hydor. We’ll wait patiently for you.”
Eric pulled back. He pulled in Rey and messed with her hair as he had loved to do as a ten year old.
“I’d say Chrystos did quite a good job of me!” she said, giggling. “I miss you, Eric. But I see you every day. And I know you’ll make Hydor a better place. I love you, Eric!”
Eric couldn’t say anything. The emotions of seeing his sister not as a representation of a god, but as a real person, overwhelmed him. He pulled her in, kissing her on the forehead.
“Love you, Rey,” he blubbered.
Then she pulled back, leaving him with only one figure in the circle. Auron, his father.
“Father,” he said, almost in disbelief.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t around to see you grow,” he said. “I’m sorry that I kept my distance. I only visited you in secret. But the truth is, I did it to protect your mother. If Artemia had known we loved each other, she would’ve killed her when she killed me and would’ve killed you both too.”
Eric looked to his mother, who confirmed what was said with a head nod.
“Your mother died protecting you, Eric. Artemia still does not know that you are of her blood. Had she, you would not be here. I wish I could say that you can bring my sister back. But we all must pay for our sins, and I paid for mine with my life. For the sins I committed to my sister, it is a fate that I deserved. But, sadly, at this point, there is no changing Artemia back.”
“I know,” Eric said grimly. “I will do what I must.”
“It is time.”
The souls of his father, mother, and sister began to fade.
“I’ll fight for you all,” Eric said. “For you, Mom. For you, father. For you, Rey. For all of Hydor. I promise!”
“We love you, Eric!”
It became impossible to tell who had spoken it. It all blurred together. But it was real.
Then, suddenly, the world went black. The light that Eric had seen moments before exploded, retreated, and then disappeared. The yellow eyes appeared with a flash.
Then Eric awoke with the light of a blue, turquoise crystal next to him. The essence of Indica.
“You have a second chance at life,” the voice said. “Spend it well and with a strong purpose. I can hide you from the eyes of evil as long as you remain where you are. But once you step out, Eric, the fate of Hydor depends upon you and your allies.”
Eric looked up as far as his eyes would take him. He recognized the multi-colored bird flying just over the edge of the descent, shrieking. Then he heard the terrifying familiar voice of his former superior and he froze, fearful of moving. He did not even let his stomach move as he breathed, fearful that just as he’d gotten his life back, Artemia would take it once more.
“I can hide you from the eyes of evil as long as you remain where you are.” The words of Chrystos gave Eric a small measure of comfort, though he still braced himself for a battle.
He waited a good five minutes before he did not hear her voice. He could still hear the battle cries of dragons, the bellicose bellows of monsters, and the sudden crackling of magic, but the voice of a human had faded from the real world, looping only in his head.
When even the sound of the chaos of war had ceased, he slowly—almost like that of a glacier—leaned over and grabbed the crystal.
He felt its surge of energy grow in his hand. It felt even more powerful than before—it certainly glowed a brighter shade of blue than before. In fact, when Eric held it, he could look around in the cavern, holding it like a blue torch, dispelling what remained of the red hue from his previous battle.
He had landed probably a hundred feet beneath the crack. How he’d survived had truly been the work of magic or a god. Pebbles lined the nearly perfectly smooth ground. Small strands of steam rose.
Steam?
He moved toward the first fissure of steam that he saw. He saw a crack in the ground, but even with the crystal, it did not lead to an obvious location. Unsure of what to make, Eric chalked it up to being closer to the center of the world. He knew that was not good enough of an explanation, but he had bigger threats than a mere crack to Hydor.
Then a thought came to him. He didn’t feel any pain. He did not see any blood on the ground. He didn’t feel sore in any other part of his body. He didn’t see any newly formed scars, nor did he feel any in places on his body that he could not see.
He still, in fact, had his sword sheath attached at his hip. His actual sword remained, as well, lying about a foot in front of him.
“OK,” he said, testing his own voice.
He still had it. He still couldn’t believe that he had lived. Magic and a god had given him more than just a second chance—it had strengthened him for the fight against Artemia.
He looked to the wall and saw several divots on which he could climb. He hadn’t climbed a wall like this in months, not since his time in Mathos, but a few weeks did not make him forget what he’d learned over the previous six years. With some difficulty at first, he hoisted himself up, relying on the strength of his fingers to keep him on the wall as he found his footing.
The ascent would have felt dangerous to just about anyone else, even the most experienced of hunters, but Eric felt he had died and come back to life. Death hadn’t hurt that much. If anything, it brought more emotional scars than it did actual physical pain. What was the fear of falling a couple dozen feet? He’d done that before as well when he fought Indica, and aside from a sprained ankle, he suffered no damage.
Still, when he reached the top and threw his feet over, he stood up triumphantly. He had risen from the depths of Hydor. He held his arms out and roared in victory.
Artemia had not killed him. If she thought she’d won, she would have a fatal realization coming to her later. Eric would make sure of that.
It doesn’t stop with her. Remember you must fight forever.
Eric smiled at the thought. A permanent purpose seemed a lot more appealing than it would have the previous sixteen years.
But then he heard the sound of more screeching from above and became paranoid. His roar had echoed through the caverns and reached Artemia. He’d have to defeat her. He could do it, but it would be his toughest fight yet.
He pressed up against a nearby wall away from the entrance, watching his breath. He listened carefully, his breathing shallow and his grip on his sword tight, for the echos of a hunter’s boots.
But none came.
Slowly, he came to understand that if Artemia had not found him before, she would probably not spend the time to search for him. He was dead to her. She was never the type to wonder if a man might be recovered, even when she knew it was very possible. She especially wasn’t the type to give a moment of remembrance to the dead.
For now, at least, Eric had his freedom. He could leave the temple—probably slowly, for the mountains surrounding it would not be scaled in a matter of minutes—and head home to…
Well, that next step he hadn’t thought of. But the first thing that came to mind was finding Abe at Dabira. That seemed as good a first step as any, if for no other reason than he had no family in Caia, no pleasant memories in Mathos, and no other assigned hunts or targets. If Abe had left Dabira, he’d find a way back to Mathos. Surely, his mentor would’ve returned to the home they shared.
He made sure he had the turquoise crystal tightly gripped as he ascended the stairs. He felt a great relief when, on the second level, he came across no ice king, no soldiers, no magic. Had he needed his magic, he had little doubt
he would defeat the monsters, but the less energy he needed to exert, the better.
But then he climbed to the hallway just before the top atrium and stopped, his hand inches away from the door.
Monsters that he had heard croaking, monsters that threatened to paralyze his fight response, monsters from the depths of the underworld had been frozen in ice just before.
The multi-colored bird was one of them.
Did the rest of them escape?
He pressed his ear up to the door, listening intently for any sound of life. None came.
Then he heard footsteps. Slow, methodical footsteps. Eric gulped.
The steps came closer. He stepped back about three feet, close enough that he could move in for a quick-kill strike on Artemia. Perhaps she had heard him coming back and had laid a trap, but recognizing Eric wouldn’t fall for it, had come to slay him herself. So be it. If I die, at least I’ll die knowing who killed my family. All of them.
The steps reached the door. Eric sucked in a breath and slowly moved his hand back, preparing to chop his blade onto his former superior.
The doors opened.
“Artemia! Die! For my family!”
“No! Wait!”
Eric’s momentum carried his blade forward. But at the last second, he pushed it to the side, narrowly missing his target. For the source of the marching was not Artemia.
It was Romarus.
“You… live?” Eric said as he brought his sword back.
“I could say the same for you,” Romarus said, shivering. It was hard to tell if it was because of the cold or the near-fatal strike Eric had thrown, missing by about three inches. “As soon as I saw Artemia leave this temple, I assumed she had slaughtered you.”
“That is not entirely inaccurate,” Eric said, drawing a curious gaze from Romarus. He briefly gave consideration to explaining himself but decided such a story would waste precious time that could be spent heading to Dabira. “How did you survive? I figured having hundreds of dragons come after you would be your end. Or, for that matter, just now coming down the mountain.”
Legends of the War (War of the Magi Book 3) Page 5