The Dragon Hunter and the Mage

by V. R. Cardoso

  “Up there is the Paladin’s headquarters. This is where they dump the apprehended Runium.”

  “That’s your plan? Wait for them to dump a shipment?”

  “Of course not! They only do it every once in a while. They must store their apprehensions and only dump them when their storage is full. All we have to do is go in, find the storage room, and take a small vial.”

  “A small vial… it’s as if you’re talking about strawberry jam. Are you mad?! That place must be crawling with Paladins.”

  Aric placed his torch on a wall hanger, climbed up an iron ladder nailed to the wall, pushed the trap door, and disappeared into the Paladin headquarters. One short moment later, his head popped back out.

  “Do you really think they expect someone to have the nerve to walk into their main headquarters? They don’t even lock this thing.”

  Fadan stood motionless for a moment, staring in utter disbelief at Aric’s face hanging from the trap door. Then he shrugged, put down his torch, and climbed up as well.

  The room was a dark cubicle with nothing except for the trap door. What little light there was inside came from its only entrance. Aric walked up to a corner and snuck a peek, then called his brother with a gesture. Gliding through the wall, they penetrated deeper into the Paladins headquarters and stopped at a door. Aric opened it carefully and looked inside. He saw only a few shelves covered in spider webs and an upturned bucket.

  They kept going, tiptoeing along the same corridor until they heard voices. They had arrived at an intersection where one of the corridors seemed to lead to a common room or dining hall where the voices came from. Obviously, they chose to go through the other one.

  With each step they gave, Fadan looked over his shoulder twice. Until Aric shoved a palm on Fadan’s chest, making him stop. With an index finger over his lips, Aric made a silent shush.

  With careful steps, Aric peeked around a corner, then signaled Fadan to do the same. The Prince stepped in front of his brother and leaned forward. On the other side, a Paladin was sitting on a small wooden stool with his head hanging over his chest. Was he sleeping? Fadan made the question with a gesture. Aric shrugged.

  They peeked again, this time simultaneously. Suddenly, a noise made them jump. The two brothers shrank against the wall and heard a voice becoming louder. They looked in one direction, and then the other. There wasn’t much choice. They turned the corner and darted past the sleeping Paladin, slipping into the room behind him.

  It looked to be a library, with bookshelves reaching as far as darkness allowed them to see. In a hurry, they snuck in between two of them and crouched, waiting. The voices grew louder and louder. Aric felt something slapping his shoulder and looked at his brother. Fadan was staring at the shelf next to them, his eyes ready to pop out. Aric could not believe it.

  Those weren’t books, those were flasks. Thousands of them.

  For a moment, Aric forgot fear entirely, grabbing two of them. The red liquid inside was thicker than stew but shone like a plate of armor in front of a fireplace. If that wasn’t Runium, nothing was. He slid the two vials into his jacket.

  “HAHA! Look at him, bravely guarding the storeroom,” a rough voice sneered from outside.

  “Nothing gets past you, big guy,” another voice said in an annoying tone.

  “Huh?! Wha‒… let me go, you bastard,” a third, sleepy voice protested.

  Aric felt the hand of his brother pulling him back. They both held their breaths. This place had only one way out, and apparently it was now crowded with Paladins.

  Crouching, Aric moved towards the end of the shelf so he could take a better look at the exit. Fadan’s arms protested, but Aric just signaled him to be still. At that moment, he wanted to be a Mage more than ever. All it would take would be a sip from one of those flasks and with a simple gesture, he could make the Paladins go away.

  “What’s that?” the annoying voice asked.

  The two brothers froze.

  “A shelf, idiot,” the rough voice replied.

  “Seriously. I saw something move.”

  There were several laughs, followed by comments on the amount of wine the Paladin with the annoying voice had drank. Aric looked behind him and saw Fadan dislodging a wooden box from the lower shelf, and then cross through to the other side. He looked at the entrance once again and saw a shadow growing into the storeroom.

  “Over there. I swear I saw something,” the annoying voice said.

  The one with the rough voice really didn’t care, replying, “Of course you did. A rat. Good luck finding it.”

  “Fire take the both you!” the sleepy one said. “Won’t you shut up!?”

  Aric saw the shadow grow bigger and bigger. He tried to find some place to hide, but all he could see were vials and more vials.

  “It wasn’t a rat,” the annoying voice insisted.

  “Right. If you won’t let me sleep, I’m getting myself a drink.”

  “Good idea.”

  Aric heard a slap on someone’s back, followed by disappearing footsteps. The two men had clearly walked away, and the third must have turned around because Aric saw his shadow become thinner.

  “Bastards!” he cursed.

  Then, the shadow grew thicker once more, and Aric could see the contour of his head and shoulders again. He looked everywhere for a hiding place, but the only thing he saw was the box Fadan had removed from the shelf. He ran and placed himself behind it, but immediately felt ridiculous. A small dog would not have been able to hide behind it.

  At that moment, he looked up and saw the Paladin. He was a tall, thin man, and wore the black cuirass and red waistband of the Paladin uniform. For a moment, the Paladin did not see him and Aric walked back instinctively, trapping himself against the wall. Then, the man turned, gaze locking on him.

  The Paladin’s eyes bulged and his hand drew a long knife from his belt. He opened his mouth to yell something, but before he could, Fadan came out from behind another shelf case, a massive wooden board in his hands. The Prince smacked the man across the head and he collapsed.

  “Quick!” Fadan said, then dashed away.

  Aric didn’t need to hear that twice. He raced after his brother, the two of them running through the corridors. If someone had heard or seen them they had no idea. How they found the right way back to the trap door was a similar mystery. They opened it, dove into the sewer, swam to the walkway, and then kept running. They only stopped when they reached the railing they had broken on their way in.

  Panting heavily, they stood before it, collecting their breaths, hoping their hearts didn’t jump out from their chests. Aric felt his jacket pockets and removed the two vials. One was broken and its content had disappeared. The other, however, was as intact as when he had picked it up in the storeroom.

  Panting, Tarsus wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead. He looked at Cassia beside him and stared at her naked chest, rising and falling with her breath. He laid a caring hand on her arm, but she rolled onto her side, turning her back to him. What he would have given for her not to do that….

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I’m tired.” Cassia pulled a blanket and covered herself. “We should sleep.”

  Every man suffers the same, people had told him. It’s the curse of marriage, he had heard between laughter. Tarsus wasn’t so sure.

  “Everything I do for you, I do out of love,” he confessed.

  Cassia turned and faced him.

  “Everything you do… everything you did… that’s not love. That’s selfishness.” Cassia turned her back to him once again.

  Tarsus stared at the ceiling without an answer. If only she could understand.

  “Your birthday is coming,” he said.

  “I know. I’m sure you won’t spare any expense to make sure the festivities are magnificent.” There was no joy in her voice.

  “You call me selfish…” Tarsus said. “Very well. Ask for anything.”

  Cassia turned to the emperor.
“What?”

  “I’m going to prove to you that while you are mine, I am willing to give you anything. As your birthday gift, you can ask me anything.”

  Cassia looked at him suspiciously.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  “Anything.”

  There was a silence while the Empress studied her husband. Was he serious?

  “Alright…” Cassia sat up in the bed and Tarsus did the same. “I want Aric to see his father.”

  Aric and Fadan washed away the sewer stench with water buckets, then ran up to the attic on the north wing. They didn’t even bother drying their clothes. Fadan dragged a table to the center of the room and placed a candle, two glasses of pure crystal, a jar of water, and the precious flask on top of it. The candle flame danced, and inside the vial, red waves swirled within the silvery liquid.

  Across the attic, Aric dug the book from its hideout. He felt his stomach tighten and his eyes closed as he muttered a plea. Would Ava grant him his wish? It would certainly be a first.

  He dropped the massive tome on the improvised table and quickly found the page he was looking for.

  “One portion of Runium, five portions of water,” Aric read.

  Fadan measured and poured the liquids in each crystal glass. He gave one to his brother and picked the other one for himself.

  Aric reached for his belt and removed a small kitchen knife. He looked up, searching the heavens, and closed his eyes in a plea. Then, he made a small cut on the palm of his hand, dropped the knife, and squeezed some blood droplets into his glass.

  Please….

  He reopened his eyes. The blood drops unraveled inside the translucent liquid and he waited, watching each undulation of his blood threads as they dissolved.

  Please….

  The red became duller and duller until it turned white. Other than that, nothing happened. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his body sunk and he let a long sigh escape him. Devastated, he lifted his head slightly.

  Across the table, Fadan was staring at his own glass with his mouth wide open. He lifted his cup and showed it to Aric.

  The liquid inside was as bright blue as an Imperial flag waving in the sun.

  Chapter 3

  The Traitor

  Ava looked at him from above. Serene, crystalline, glowing, the stained glass where she was portrayed stretching across multiple stories up to the temple ceiling. Aric wondered if the star floating above her head was not a more accurate representation of her. After all, had she ever even stepped on Arkhemia?

  He heard steps from behind.

  “We don’t usually get visitors this early.” The Priest wore a white tunic with Ava’s Dawn Star embroidered on his chest. By the complicated, filigree-like cutouts of the cloth covering his head, Aric assumed he should be an important member of the Temple. “Why don’t you return in an hour, when the morning celebration begins?”

  “Does she ever reply back?” Aric asked.

  The Priest pondered the question for a while.

  “It depends on the answer you are looking for. Mother Ava does not grant wishes.”

  “Why not?”

  “The city is full of fountains,” the Priest said. “The naïve throw gold coins into them, the wise quench their thirst in them.” He stepped besides Aric, searching for his face. “You’re the Empress’s son, Aric!”

  “What’s the point of praying to a Goddess if she can’t hear us? Or just won’t?”

  The Priest looked at his glass-made Goddess.

  “Ava did not create us, yet she cared for us as if she was our mother. She risked her own life to protect us.” The old man turned to Aric. “We pray to her because we are thankful. Because if it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t be here.”

  “Risked her own life!? She just gave us weapons,” Aric protested.

  “Dragons have their own Gods, you know. By taking our side, Ava crossed them. She lost her own lover because of it.”

  “Now there is a God worth praying to,” Aric said. “He was a warrior. He came down to fight on our side. Ava just watched…”

  “I thought you saw no point in praying to a God that doesn’t answer your prayers. How is a dead God going to help you?”

  Aric opened his mouth but no answer came.

  “At last!”

  Aric and the Priest turned around at the voice. At the other end of the temple, by the entrance, stood Sagun.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for hours,” the Castellan said as he walked through the temple’s seating. “My apologies, Holy Brother. I hope the boy was not disturbing you.”

  If there was something Aric did not want to see right now, that thing was Sagun.

  “Not at all. He’s just a curious boy.”

  The Castellan returned the Priest’s bow, then turned to Aric.

  “Your mother wishes to see you in the main hall,” he said.

  His mother? In the main hall? The last time he had entered the main hall he had been removed by the steel gauntlet of a Legionary and then locked in his room. The time before that…. He could not recall a time before that.

  With his black braid snaking at his back, Sagun lead Aric out of the temple and back through the myriad palaces of the Citadel. The Castellan left a trail of perfume behind him so intense that Aric felt nauseous. On the other hand, everything about Sagun gave him nausea, from the shaven top of his head contrasting with the gigantic black braid, to the overly decorated and colorful Akhami tunics. Even the way his brown skin always glowed without a single drop of sweat was repulsive. Were all people of Akham like him? If so, it had to be a horrible place.

  The gates of the main hall were open when they arrived at the Core Palace, and Aric could see the blue dais where the two thrones rose. Their backrest, covered in blue satin, climbed up to the ceiling like two veils dropped from the heavens. But what truly intrigued Aric was that, standing up there, waiting for him beside his mother, was the Emperor himself.

  Had Fadan said anything about the book? Or the Runium?

  I’m going to be thrown away! Or worse….

  Tarsus had a rigid expression, his eyes piercing through Aric. Cassia, however, gave him a delightful smile that made Aric feel warm inside.

  “Aric, my love,” his mother said, “your father is in Augusta. Today, my dear, you will be allowed to see him.”

  Aric’s chin dropped. He turned to the Emperor, sure he would forbid it at once, but Tarsus did no such thing. He just kept his eyes locked on Aric without saying a word.

  That was not possible.

  “Seriously?!”

  His mother nodded affirmatively. The smile had not faded from her face yet, and it didn’t look like it was going anywhere anytime soon.

  “I need to stop.”

  The Sergeant leading the escort gave him an astonished look.

  “Again?!”

  Doric shrugged. “Horse riding makes me want to piss,” he said.

  “I imagine drinking four wineskins probably doesn’t help either.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s all I brought.”

  “The city gates are right up there,” the Sergeant told him. “You can piss when we get to the inn.”

  Doric did not reply. He stopped his horse, dismounted, and tied him to a branch. Then, he lowered his pants and started relieving himself.

  “What are you doing?!” the Sergeant asked.

  Doric looked down his own body, then back at the Sergeant.

  “What do you mean, what am I doing?” he asked.

  A Legionary started laughing but was quickly silenced by the Sergeant’s look. Doric finished, pulling his pants back up. He climbed back onto his horse and took the view in.

  The Imperial Citadel rested like a crown above Mount Capitol. Its sharp towers jutted upwards like swords challenging the sky, and somewhere inside was Cassia and his son.

  Around the Citadel, Augusta spread like a mantle of houses, streets, and plazas. Throughout the centuries, the city
had grown so much it already had three separate, concentric walls protecting it. Doric still remembered when there were little more than a few shacks outside the outer wall, but the last couple of decades had brought so many people to the Empire’s capital that soon it would be necessary to build a fourth one.

  With his escort surrounding him, he crossed the city gates. They rode through cobbled streets, crowded squares, and avenues so large you could fit entire villages inside. It was incredible how so much had changed, and yet everything was exactly the same. The Safya still flowed as wide and blue as ever. The towers of the temples, public buildings, and nobility estates still competed among themselves for the place closest to the sky. Even the Legionaries still guarded their posts everywhere he looked. To Doric, the only change were the Paladins. More than a dozen times, he saw columns of twenty of them, marching around with their black cuirasses and red waistbands. As if the Legionaries weren’t enough….

  They arrived at the Maginus field, a colossal, rectangular plaza around which gathered a collection of public buildings from post offices to courts. In the center of the plaza, cutting it in half like a spine, was the largest collection of statues Doric had ever seen. In it, the Legions of Maginus II triumphed over the last army of Akham.

  “It’s a breathtaking monument, is it not?” Doric asked. When no one answered, he added, “If you’re into ultra-realism, of course.”

  Once again, silence.

  “I prefer Fyrian, myself.” He waited for an answer again, and once more none came. “Saggad is full of Fyrian pieces. Have you ever been to Saggad, Sergeant?”

  “Yes,” the Sergeant replied at last.

  An entire day of journeying and that was all he had gotten out of him. Yes, or no. Doric hadn’t even discovered his name. In fact, all he had heard from him had been orders to his men. He was too young to be an officer, which meant he was no plebeian. Besides, the clean way in which he moved gave him away. Doric had also noticed the obsessive way in which he cleaned the silver plates of his armor as if it were the most valuable thing he possessed. It was curious, considering he could obviously afford a Sergeant’s rank.