“Are you insane?” he whispered. “Want him to send me away for good?”
Fadan shrugged and signaled him to follow him. They re-entered the building and followed along corridors and stairways, being careful enough to choose only the ones that were in the dark.
Aric kept looking over his shoulder. It wasn’t the first time the two of them had snuck out like that. In fact, he couldn’t remember spending more than brief moments with his brother unless it was at night, sneaking around, somewhere in the bowels of the Citadel.
But today was different. He had heard Tarsus’s threat, and he didn’t like the idea of never seeing his mother or brother again.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Shh!”
They were on the top floor of the north wing by now. Fadan tiptoed up a spiral staircase and Aric followed, still unable to stop looking over his shoulder. At the top of the stairs, Fadan pushed open a door that squeaked from the effort. Aric went in and his brother closed the door behind him.
It was some sort of attic. There were tables and old chairs, some paintings, rolled carpets, and books, piles of books. Everything was thoroughly covered in a thick layer of dust, however, everything had also been moved close to the walls, leaving the center of the room empty as if it were a corridor.
“What is this? A storage room?”
Instead of answering, Fadan threw him a training sword. Aric’s mouth dropped as he wrapped his fingers around the handle and felt its weight. It had to have a metal core, it was too heavy to be made of just wood, and Aric figured that was exactly how a true sword should feel. He admired it as if he had just been handed a relic from the unification wars.
“You want to learn or not?”
Aric snapped out of it. Of course he wanted to. It was all he could think about.
Fadan began by explaining how to properly hold the sword, then demonstrated some guard stances, trying to impersonate his master-at-arms.
“Wait, I got lost. How was the previous one?”
“Let me finish this one. You place your right foot‒”
“But I don’t remember the last one! Go slower.”
Fadan sighed.
“You hold the sword at waist level, like this. No, don’t bend that much.” He grabbed Aric’s hand, placing it in the right position, but his brother got angry and pushed his hand away.
“Would you mind going slower!?” Aric yelled.
Fadan rolled his eyes.
“I’m the one who got the crap beaten out of him today, alright? You have to be patient. You don’t snap your fingers and learn this. It’s not a magic trick.”
SLUMP!
The two brothers jumped and their hearts buried into their chests. With every hair in their bodies standing up they stared at the center of the room, their eyes widening.
Right there, in the middle of the floor, where previously there was nothing, now stood a tall, thick book. They staggered towards it, trying to understand what had just happened. There was no shelf, table, or chair from which it could have fallen, and the nearest pile of books was a good five paces away. They looked up. The ceiling was like the hull of a ship turned upside down, but there was no beam from where it could have wobbled and fallen. How was it possible? The book was much larger than any Aric had ever seen, and he had seen just about every book in the Citadel’s library.
Fadan picked it up. The cover was made of wood instead of leather, and he wiped the dust from it with a swipe of his hand. The two of them read the engraved title.
INTRODUCTION TO THE MAGICAL ARTS – TOME I
Fadan opened the book to a random page. The pages and text looked perfectly preserved as if the book had just been written.
Aric glanced around the room again and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Was someone watching them?
Chapter 2
The Forbidden Book
“I don’t understand. Where did it fall from?” Fadan looked in every direction, but they were as alone as they had been when they had walked in.
Aric stole the book from his brother’s hands and flipped through its pages as if he wanted to read it all in one fell swoop. He caught a few terms here and there but understood none of them. Singulums, Cognitive Projection, Entropic Abstraction, Aric felt like he was in a class with Macael if the old man had decided to speak in another language.
“I wonder if one of us has the Talent…” he mused. “There has to be some kind of test in here.”
“What do you mean? What are you planning to do with this? We have to get rid of it. Right now! If my father so much as dreams‒”
“How is he going to find out?” Aric asked.
Fadan groaned as Aric kept flipping the pages in his hand, studying them like a new puzzle.
“Test… test… there has to be a test.”
“Look for a stupidity test as well,” Fadan muttered. “I’m sure you’ll get the highest score.”
Aric gave his brother a disappointed look.
“Are you telling me you’re not curious? What if one of us could do magic, wouldn’t that be incredible?”
Fadan didn’t answer him right away. “A little bit, maybe,” he admitted, at last, shifting his weight nervously. “It would also be a great way to end up in the gallows.”
Aric didn’t care. All he could think about was everything he would be able to do if he was a Mage. Leave the Citadel any time he wanted, see his mother whenever he felt like it, maybe even visit his father….
Aric cascaded through the pages. “This is an introduction book. There has to be a section about discovering the talent,” he said.
Fadan tore the book away from his hands. “Give me that. You’re getting on my nerves,” he said, then turned the book back to the beginning and stuck his finger in one of the first pages. “Check the index!”
Aric ignored his tone and quickly found what he was looking for. With the book in his brother’s hands, he flipped the pages until he got to where he wanted. The two of them read in silence.
“Ah… I see…” Aric said. He didn’t sound too sure about it, though. “It’s not that complicated.”
“Not that complicated? How is this not complicated? Where are you going to find Runium? Are you going to hunt a Dragon in the courtyard?!” Fadan asked.
Aric shrugged. “We would need Runium anyway. How else did you want to cast spells?”
“I don’t want to cast spells! You do!”
“There is a place…” Aric said, looking through a window.
“No. Don’t even think about it.”
But he was thinking about it, and he even knew how he could get there.
The Paladin shifted his weight as the Emperor read his report. Tarsus was sitting at a Dragon bone table. The Paladin calculated it had to be worth more money than he would ever see in his entire life.
“Contraband is up. Again…” the Emperor murmured. “Have we ever had this many apprehensions as this winter?”
By his side, with a hand on the back of the Emperor’s chair, Vigild said no with a shake of his head. “The Paladins are becoming ever better at their job, your majesty,” he said.
Tarsus threw the report onto his table.
“Don’t pretend to be naïve, Chancellor,” Tarsus said. “The more Runium we catch, the more gets to the streets. It’s almost as if trafficking has become normal.”
“I already gave orders to double the patrols on the docks and customs offices,” Vigild assured.
“And the contrabandists will find someplace else to bring the Runium through,” Tarsus replied.
Vigild held his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t see that there’s much else we can do, your majesty. Not with the resources we have available.”
“More resources? How many more times will I have to raise taxes, Vigild?”
“Not every resource is money,” the Chancellor replied. “If the Paladins had more authority, if they could carry out their searches without the bureaucracy to delay them. Am I righ
t, commander?”
The Paladin shuddered. “Yes!” he blurted out. “Yes, of course.” He tried to pull himself together. “In most cases, when the magistrate’s authorization arrives, the smugglers have already had time to move the merchandise. Right before our noses.”
“Probably tipped off by tribunal clerks on their pay roll,” Vigild added.
Tarsus rose, walked to a window, and contemplated his capital. The Citadel was the highest point in Augusta. From there you could see all twenty bridges that crossed the Safya River, as well as the Docks’ district – the commercial heart of the Empire and the shadiest part of the Imperial city.
“And the nobility will protest, once again….” Tarsus lost his gaze in the city. “When will I lose them for good, Vigild?”
The question went without an answer and the Chancellor moved nervously.
“No,” Tarsus said. “We are already preparing a controversial law. I will not risk another provocation.”
“Maybe we can do more at the source of the problem,” the Chancellor said. “After all, there is no Runium without Dragon blood.”
Tarsus didn’t move. Down there, in the docks, a ship untied itself, released a sail, and was pushed down the Safya. Towards Capra, the Emperor assumed.
“The Paladins have a mandate to control the Dragon Hunters, Chancellor. If the problem resides there, then this mandate is not being well executed.” Tarsus spun to face Vigild.
“That’s where all Dragon blood comes from, your majesty,” Vigild replied, “and I will be the first to admit the mistakes of my men. There are two possibilities. Either the Hunters aren’t delivering everything they hunt to my Paladins or the Paladins themselves have found… a new source of income.”
Tarsus glared at the Paladin in his office. The man shifted his weight from one leg to the other while swallowing through a dry throat. “I shall begin an inquiry immediately, your majesty!” he said.
“Do that, commander. It would be a horrible thing if you found yourself, not controlling the Hunters, but keeping them company in some Dragon cave in the desert.”
The Paladin kept still, but color abandoned his skin. Vigild gave him permission to leave with a gesture.
“One more thing, commander.” Tarsus was once again looking at his city. “From now on, it would be best if the apprehensions produced not just the Runium, but also the Mages buying it.”
The day dragged itself endlessly. Aric spent the whole morning in a Samehrian literature class. When he finally finished analyzing page after page of an anthology of pre-unification poems he headed for the kitchens to have lunch, wondering if the place they had chosen to hide the book was safe enough. He considered moving it, but it would be stupid to do so during the day.
As he walked into Macael’s class in the afternoon he bumped into Fadan, but to the great amazement of the mathematics tutor, they simply exchanged a nod. This time, Macael forced him to sit away from the window, where the courtyard would not be visible. But it wasn’t the weapons training that filled Aric’s mind that day. He tried his best to keep up with the lesson but was unable to take his eyes off of Macael’s hourglass. If only he was able to speed up time….
Unfortunately, today, the sun seemed to have decided to move slower. When Macael finally dismissed him Aric headed for the battlements, and sat there with his eyes wandering between the setting sun and a small window way up high in the north wing, his legs frantically beating against the bricks of the wall.
When the sun decided to leave at long last, Aric returned to the kitchens. A pair of grilled trouts waited for him on top of two slices of corn bread. He imagined himself using only his mind to lift them through the air. He saw himself summoning a jar of wine with a flick of his fingers. In the end, though it was a servant who brought the wine, throwing the jar in front of him on the table. It twirled and threatened to tumble, but only a couple of droplets spilled onto Aric’s shirt.
He returned to the battlements once more and sat there, this time watching the moon rise in the sky. He stayed there for hours, counting every moment. It would be insane to try to leave the Citadel before everyone else was asleep. Actually, it would be insane no matter what time he did it, but he was still determined to do it anyway.
When the castle finally looked quiet enough, Aric went back inside. He went to his room and put on a dark brown cloak. Then, with silent steps, he crossed the main hall and climbed the great staircase in the castle’s lobby, being careful enough to drop on all fours as he reached the final steps. At the top, two Legionaries guarded the hallway that led to the Imperial family’s rooms. He heard a soft whistle coming from the one on the left, and a heavy snore from the one on the right.
One hand and one foot after the other, he slid through the marble flagstones. When he finally left the guards behind him he rose up and resumed walking. There should be no more guards from there onwards.
He turned the first corner. Torch lights made his shadow dance, and he stuck his tongue out at a series of portraits of former Emperors hanging on the wall. Finally, he turned another corner and his body froze. Right there, five steps from him, was Sagun, at his mother’s bedroom door. The Castellan was saying something, but Aric could only hear his own heart beating on his chest. From the other side of the door, he saw his mother’s gaze finding his and immediately return to Sagun’s.
“What was that, Castellan?” Cassia asked.
Sagun sighed and indicated Tarsus’ room with a hand wave
“The Emperor requests your presence tonight.”
Cassia nodded repeatedly, as if her head was stuck on a loop, but said nothing. Her gaze met Aric’s again, very quickly. He was still frozen in the middle of the corridor.
“Very well,” the Empress said but stood motionless nonetheless.
Sagun looked extremely confused.
“Huh…. Your majesty wishes something else?”
“Something else?” Cassia asked. Aric was still in the same place, paralyzed halfway through a movement. “Something else, yes,” she said.
Sagun frowned, unsure whether to say something or not. To Cassia’s great relief, Aric finally decided to move. He gave one step, then another as he drew nearer to Fadan’s room.
“And… what will it be?” Sagun asked.
“It will be…” Cassia mumbled, “a jar of wine.” She saw Aric get to his brother’s door, right behind Sagun, and shrink against it.
“A jar of wine. Right away, your majesty.” Sagun made a small bow.
Cassia held her breath as he turned to leave. On the other side, Aric pushed himself against the door so hard he almost went through it.
“Sagun!” Cassia grabbed his arm, squeezing it.
The Castellan looked at her as if it was the first time in history something like that had happened. Cassia thought it probably was. To her great relief, at that moment, Fadan’s door opened and Aric disappeared into the bedroom.
“White, Sagun. A jar of white wine,” Cassia said, then shut her own door in his face.
The Castellan nodded. The Empress had definitely lost her mind.
“Are you thirsty?” the Emperor asked.
Cassia was standing at the room’s entrance, holding a jar of white wine and two glasses.
“Not really.” The Empress set the wine and glasses on a mahogany table by the door. “You look tired.”
Tarsus let a sigh answer in his stead. He did not remember not feeling tired. He shrugged and got closer to her. Softly, he held her waist and smelled the hair around her neck. Cassia’s body tightened.
“Help me undress,” he said, turning his back to her. “Did you have a nice day?”
Cassia moved his once black hair out of the way and unlocked the pin holding the blue cape around his shoulders.
“Yes,” the Empress replied.
How he hated when all he could get out of her was a yes or a no. He nodded affirmatively, pretending the answer pleased him.
“Fadan behaved nicely today,” he said. “No
nonsense in the kitchens or that sort of thing.”
Cassia exhaled loudly. She grabbed Tarsus’s blue cape and carried it to a corner. The Emperor stood watching her folding the cape over and over before laying it down. He could not remember one single time in his life he had not thought she was the most magnificent thing he had ever seen.
With her back to Tarsus, Cassia folded the cape. Then folded it again, and again.
“Come here,” Tarsus said.
She straightened, exhaled loudly again and turned around.
“Take off your dress.”
Cassia looked outside through the window and recalled a time when she had believed that one day she would get used to this. Then she remembered one other time before that, when she had been in another man’s room. He had had blond hair with misbehaved curls and hadn’t needed to ask her the same thing.
The light from Fadan’s torch burned on Aric’s blond, curly hair. In front of him, the corridor stretched like a well. The Crown Prince had the feeling that the darkness might never end.
“Are you sure this is the way?” he asked.
“Of course, I’m sure,” Aric replied in a whisper. “Now be quiet.”
Fadan protested inaudibly. They tiptoed across the corridor with the light of the torch trembling on the stone walls. Eventually, they arrived at a rust eaten railing, and Aric dislodged two metal bars with a kick. On the other side, a black river flowed silently. The smell told them it was a sewer.
“You want to know something really exciting?” Aric asked. “If you go that way, you’ll get to the dungeons.” He stretched an arm, pointing in the same direction the river was running.
“I’m sure they’re charming. We should spend an evening there one of these days.”
Aric shook his head in disappointment and walked the other way. They ran along the sewer until they reached a crossing. There, three rivers of dark, foul smelling water joined in a large circle to then leave through the canal they had just come from. Aric pointed at a trap door in the center of the crossing’s ceiling.
The Dragon Hunter and the Mage Page 4