The Dragon Hunters

by Christian Warren Freed

  “I come with warning. You are being used, hero. Dark forces drive you and your band. It was they who are responsible for summoning me.” His visage darkened with anger. “As if I were a tool to be summoned at will. Fools. I, who has crushed worlds beneath my heel as if they were nothing more than dust.”

  Lord Death stalked away, pausing at the edge of vision, that blurred space where reality and dream mix. He pointed his crooked staff at Grelic and smiled. “We shall see one another soon, Grelic of Thrae.”

  Grelic awoke with a puzzled expression. His body was cold, as if death’s presence lingered on his soul. A quick glance around the small camp showed the others were fast asleep. The sun was beginning to break, encasing the lands in that hazy blur of color and gloom. Grelic allowed himself to relax, if only a bit. There’d been no sign of the dark wolves since their battle early in the night though he doubted they’d given up the hunt so easily. Thoughts swirling through a thousand different scenarios, he pulled his sore body from his sleeping bag and stretched.

  We’ll see each other again soon enough.

  He shuddered at the memory. “Damnation. I need a drink.”

  Trying to shake the disturbing images from his mind, he headed towards the nearby stream they’d crossed en route to the campsite. It seemed peaceful enough. The forested hills had an eerie calm to them, as if the world still slept. He stepped lightly over fallen branches and dead leaves, still crisp, hearing the stream before seeing it. Grelic sighed when he gazed upon the cool water. The area seemed peaceful enough. A large stag elk bowed to drink, pausing only to determine whether or not the big man was a threat.

  Grelic ignored the elk and stripped his blood-stained jerkin before shoving his head in the water. It was ice cold, forcing him to catch his breath and keep his mouth shut before drinking half the stream. The water revived him, shaking loose old feelings of dread and leaving him cleansed. He jerked his head free. Water splashed and ran from his face and hair, dripping down his heavily muscled, scarred chest. He fondly traced a few of those scars, studying the white lines forever etched into his flesh. No time for nostalgia, Grelic tried to wash the blood from his jerkin.

  “Mind if I join you?” Dakeb’s tired voice sounded from behind.

  Grelic frowned but kept working on his jerkin. “Feel free.”

  The old Mage sat with an exaggerated sigh. “An eventful evening, wouldn’t you say?”

  “You definitely proved your value. I don’t know what would have happened without your magic,” Grelic admitted after long moments of silence. He paused to skip a pebble across the undulating water.

  “Magic I’ve not used in a long time. Mages aren’t fondly remembered. We did nearly destroy the world after all.”

  Grelic shrugged. The Mage war was well before his time and of no consequence to his thinking. “If not you then it would have been someone else. Seems to be the way of things. I think we’re bent on destroying each other.”

  “Aye. Sadly enough it is.”

  The giant sense something important unsaid and wasn’t sure if he wanted to know or not. Meddling with a Mage was bad enough, meddling with the past only led to trouble. Dakeb took the choice away from him.

  “If last night is an indication, our path is filled with peril. Dark wolves don’t hunt without a master guiding them. Whoever’s stalking us sent them. But to what purpose?”

  “Then we need to find their master,” Grelic said without trying to think of what might be. Cold shivers ran down his spine.

  “There is no time. I don’t yet understand what is happening or why, though I have suspicions. What I do know is that war is coming to Thrae regardless of our task. We need to hurry.”

  Grelic’s eyebrow rose sharply. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “It usually doesn’t. Foul times have befallen us. Every generation has demons to fight, whether self created or not.”

  We’ll see each other again soon enough.

  “How’s your thigh?” asked Dakeb in an attempt to relieve some of the growing tension.

  They both examined the wound. Caked blood surrounded the gash and the interior was soft pink. Dakeb closed his eyes and sent invisible tendrils of power into the cut, searching for infection.

  “I’ve had worse.”

  “I don’t sense any poison, though it is difficult to tell with Gwarmoran. When we reach Gend remind me to make a poultice for it. For everyone. Dark wolves are no better than Dwim when it comes to pain and poison.”

  Grelic laughed. “What other foul creatures did you bring with you, old man?”

  “I’m sure I can think up a few more,” Dakeb said and chuckled. “Be fortunate there are no Gnaals on our trail yet. Nasty creatures made purely from hatred and magic. It would be nice to live in a simple world, wouldn’t it? I can remember days, long before the veil of night fell on Mage-kind, filled with merriment and hope. Kingdoms strove towards common purpose and achieved wondrous achievements. Everyone prospered. Even the Goblins.”

  “What happened?”

  Ancient pain flashed through his eyes. “The crystal of Tol Shere. Our council decided to forge the wealth of our knowledge into a single entity for generations to use as they saw fit. A noble idea but filled with flaws. The crystal allowed evil to return to the world after nearly a millennium. Several of the orders fell under the sway of darkness and used the crystal for unholy purposes. These we named dark Mage and our war began. With the crystal as a weapon they would be unstoppable.”

  “I assume they failed.” Grelic knew very little history. The subject of Mages and their kind left his head swooning so he never bothered delving into that tragic past.

  Dakeb nodded. His eyes bore a hallow, distant look. “A few of us managed to sneak back inside Ipn Shal, our fortress-temple, to stop the ceremony. The crystal shattered into four pieces. That’s when I was forced to combat my best friend, Sidian. Darkness’s hold on him was the greatest of all. We fought for a day and night, neither side gaining an advantage until I managed to pry the last shard of the crystal from his hands. When the dust settled there was no sign of him. I alone stood living. All of my brothers, both light and dark, were dead.”

  “It is a hard thing, killing a friend,” Grelic said with empathy. The truth buried in his words ran too deep.

  “If only that were so. There was no sign of Sidian whatsoever. I searched but never found a trace. What was left of the order tried to rebuild in the aftermath of the war, but we were few and the rage of the world stood against us. Some were killed in a great purge, others fled across the sea to distant shores. A handful of us went into hiding. As far as I know I am the last.”

  Grelic nodded solemnly, his mind wandering down strange roads.“What of the crystal? Could it still exist or hold power?”

  “It does exist, though I took the four shards to different locations across Malweir. No one but I knows of their locations.”

  Grelic finally relaxed. Magical creatures were bad enough, but still killable, and he didn’t want to think about the potential nightmare of an enemy with powers that nearly succeeded in destroying the world.

  “Why are you up so early? It’s not yet dawn,” Dakeb said. “The others are too exhausted to rise.”

  Grelic passed a quick look back to the campsite. “They are young still. Too much emotion comes out when they fight. You and I have been around for a while. There’s no emotion in battle left for me. I fight to stay alive, nothing more. Let them sleep. They will have need of such rest in the days to come.”

  “I started a stew a short while ago. Hopefully some of the herbs I added will give us a little extra strength. The road ahead is long and winding, filled with many dark places. We’ll need all the help we can get. A little luck would be nice too,” Dakeb said.

  A small trout swam by. Grelic sighed. Life would be much simpler if he’d settled down and married. Images of Kialla naked and tempting danced in his head, despite knowing it hadn’t been her. Still, how can I look upon you the same? “I don�
��t believe in luck. Seen too much for it to be real.”

  “What do you believe in?”

  “A good sword. The only thing I trust completely. A sword won’t let you down.”

  Grelic practically saw Lord Death coming for him. We’ll see each other again soon enough. He shivered again. Dakeb felt the wrongness of the moment but stayed quiet. He knew the big man would talk when he was ready.

  “Perhaps Brother Ibram’s Harr can help,” Grelic finally said with a jovial tone. “Though I doubt he’ll be too keen on one of his flock leaving the fold. Come, let’s see if this stew of yours follows the rest of your reputation.”

  They ambled back into the campsite in slightly lighter spirits. The others were slowly getting up and doing their best to forget the night prior. Wounds hampered some, bleak memories the rest. Kialla flashed Grelic a smile and it was all he could do to return it without turning away and blushing. A naturally stubborn man seldom beaten in battle, Grelic struggled not to walk away from Kialla. It took his last measure of fortitude to sit down and ladle a large bowl of stew.

  “How long before we reach Gend?” he asked Dakeb after the last bite of hard biscuit was chased out of his throat by a hearty belch.

  “Tomorrow I’d say. I think it’s safe to assume travelling at night is not viable.”

  “Damned well isn’t. Neither is spending the night in the open,” Pregen followed. The bandage covering most of his right bicep had bled through in the middle.

  For once Grelic agreed with the thief. “Mage, you know this land better than myself. Is there sanctuary for us tonight? Somewhere safe this evil won’t follow?”

  Dakeb gave it a moment of thought. “There are caves in some of the hills. I’m sure young Fitch here can guide us better once we get closer.”

  * * * * *

  Codel Mres sank back in his ebony chair. His face was paled, covered with perspiration. His muscles ached down to the bone. He was weak from exhaustion and failure. Not a natural Mage, magic came hard for him despite decades of training. At best, all he managed to perform were menial feats and party favors. His body threatening to rebel, he wondered what made him audacious enough to think he could handle performing such an intricate and brutal spell that could upset the balance of the world.

  His arrogance, aided by lore from the Hooded Man, led him to believe he could control even death itself. So that’s exactly what he tried to do. Lord Death would not be mastered by any man, however. None but the gods controlled him. Codel mired in failure and knew Lord Death would soon be stalking him. His only hope lay in the protection wards the Hooded Man gifted him with. He doubted they would. Life was just not that kind to men like him.

  “What have I done?”

  TWENTY

  The Long Road to Gend

  “I’m glad you’re on our side, Dakeb,” Fitch carefully said after an hour or so of internal deliberation.

  It wasn’t that he was afraid. The old Mage had a welcoming persona, like the men in Gend who’d always been around the tavern tables after a long day of hunting. Fitch respected and admired Dakeb. The Mage reminded him of Father Seldis and that in itself was comforting. They’d taken to riding together since the ambush after Grelic forced him to take the lead, reasoning they were close enough to Gend for Fitch to be able to get his bearings and guide them in.

  Dakeb chuckled softly. “There are times when I wish I’d never learned such tricks and spells. Times have changed so much since the war.”

  “They must have been awful,” Fitch replied, unsure what else to say.

  A tear clouded Dakeb’s eye. “Worse than you can possibly imagine. That’s why I am here now. I don’t want to see Malweir torn apart again.”

  “Do you really think this is going to come to war?”

  “Difficult to answer. Sometimes a Mage can see the future. Not all of it, mind you, but enough to allow us a chance at preventing certain things. War among them. Ah, there are times when I wish I’d been born a plain, ordinary farmer.”

  This shocked Fitch. He didn’t understand why anyone would give up a life of palaces and luxury for the daily toil and hardships associated with farming. He saw the way old Murray would go to the inn and drink his troubles away. Or the way Dettin looked after a season of poor crops. Farming just wasn’t worth it from his point of view. As a hunter he took what he needed off of the land, rather than spent a lifetime of backbreaking work in the soil.

  “Why would you want to be a farmer? There’s no satisfaction in it. I’ve watched farmers all of my life and they’re a miserable sort,” Fitch said after a spell.

  Dakeb replied, “Farming is the ultimate satisfaction, Master Iane. The power to create. Think of all of the families who are able to eat because of the selflessness of the farmers. Think of the gift Malweir bestows upon us as crops take root and fill the fields and gardens with bounty. Mankind’s greatest success comes from our smallest achievements. To be so free is intoxicating.”

  “I suppose.” Fitch really didn’t understand what Dakeb was talking about.

  Hunters provided just as much food, with equal variety. Of course there were days when the arrows went back to the quiver un-bloodied. Fitch wasn’t a dreamer by any means. He knew the limitations of his life all too well. Before demons robbed him of his future he knew he was going to die an old man without much to show. Demons stole all of that and left him with dying embers. Not a vengeful man, he had no interest in finding the monsters responsible and hunting them across the face of Malweir. Killing them wouldn’t bring Shar back and without her…

  Dakeb hid a sad smile. “Just to feel the dirt beneath my fingernails I would trade all my long years of knowledge and wanderings. Life, Fitch. I’m talking about throwing off the shackles of responsibility and truly living.”

  Neither of them spoke for the rest of the morning. Too many old pains had resurfaced between them. Yet Dakeb never left his side. He found Fitch perplexing. There was an untouched emotion lurking deep within. An almost overpowering urge to do good hungered to be set free, as if seeking to make amends for past failures. Deeper, closer to the hidden areas behind Fitch’s soul lurked a vicious hatred. Evil slept within Fitch Iane. Dakeb was frightened.

  Grelic halted the beleaguered band shortly after midday. The sun was hot, too hot for the early spring weather. Looking skyward, he frowned at the bright blue sky. Not a cloud was in sight and the wind had stopped blowing. Grelic took it as an ill sign. Kialla rode up alongside him and slid from her saddle. Her grace made many men sigh over the years despite the rough edges she maintained.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked with a weary tone.

  He avoided looking down into her eyes, just as he’d avoided getting too close to her since his dream. Whether from embarrassment or something else he wasn’t sure. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right here. When have you known such heat in Thrae this early in the spring?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it. Winter was long this year. Spring is nearly finished. Perhaps it has something to do with the goings-on under Druem?”

  It was an empty question. Without having been to the Deadlands there was no way to find a reasonable answer. So much had happened so quickly they were left almost numb. From the attack on Gend to their flight from the Gwarmoran, nothing had gone according to plan. Grelic felt like they were constantly one step behind their enemy. The implications proved unsettling.

  “Grelic, why don’t you look at me anymore? What have I done to you?” Kialla asked after a short time. She couldn’t take the distance.

  The giant turned away, not wanting her to see the hurt riddling his eyes. “I don’t want to talk of it. Trust me when I say that you’ve done nothing, Kialla. I have personal demons to exorcise.”

  She closed on him, gently placing her slender hand on his muscled arm. “When you want to talk, I’ll be here. Just like always.”

  Kialla walked heavily back to the others. Her shoulders sagged and her head hung just a bit low. She was beginning to wonder what
it was going to take to get the giant to open up. Dwim and Gwarmoran. All the evils of the underworld were upon them and dissention threatened to tear the group apart. Mistrust and blind hatred gnawed away at their resolve. She needed to know why.

  Sitting on a small boulder half buried in the mud and weeds, Pregen Chur thumbed the edge of his sword. His casual demeanor remained, though shaken from recent events. It was almost as if nothing had happened back in the ravine. Kialla suspected he was in just as much pain as the rest but refused to admit it. They’d thought for sure he’d died when the dark wolf landed on him. Momentarily dazed, she found herself staring at his almost boyish charm and naturally handsome features, almost forgetting who he really was.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  He gave her his best smile and lazily answered, “I’ve been better. The wounds are minor though. I’m flattered you care so much about me to ask. Hard times when a pretty lady doesn’t see to her friends.”

  “Save it,” she scolded. “I’m not in the mood for games. I was merely making my way through the group.”

  Kialla stomped off with him smiling.

  “Besides,” she called over her shoulder, “you’re not my type. I prefer men who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty.”

  “I have no doubt, but you’ll be begging me for a kiss before this is all said and done,” he sang after her.

  Kialla stormed away, cursing under her breath. Satisfied his sword was sharp enough, Pregen slid it back into the sheath and chuckled softly.

  She marched past Ibram, who never bothered looking up. He numbly chewed on a piece of dried venison, staring back at the forest. When she finally found a place to sit and collect her thoughts she was surprised it was next to Dakeb. That’s when she realized just how exhausted she was. Dakeb smiled and passed her a full canteen.

  “Take heart, Kialla. All is not darkness,” he said with a warm tone.

  She drank deeply. “I’m afraid I can’t let myself believe that. Not after what we’ve been through in such a short period of time.”