The Dragon Hunter and the Mage

by V. R. Cardoso

  “Are all Mages that arrogant?” Aric asked, smiling.

  “You’d be surprised, but most of us are actually kind of wimpy.”

  Aric laughed. “I’m sure you’re the exception,” he said.

  “Exceptional does suit me,” Eliran said with a smile. “Thank you,” she added after a small pause, “for trusting me. And also for being smarter than me. Breaking the sword in half was pretty damn genius.”

  Aric bowed his head, faking humility. “You can always count on me to wreck your rare, magical artifacts, my lady.”

  Eliran chuckled.

  “So, what now?” Aric asked.

  “Well, first we put mister snowman here with his buddy over there.” She gestured toward the frozen god beyond the gates. “Then, I’ll close the gate shut and report to my bosses.”

  “Are they all as bad as Persea?” Aric asked.

  “No,” Eliran replied, “but that’s not saying much.” Aric chuckled and helped Eliran back to her feet. “What about you?” she asked.

  “Me?” Aric looked across the hall. His Hunters were laughing at Tharius’ impression of a Dragon as he narrated their pursuit across the valley. “I’m going back home.” He turned back to face Eliran. “I still need to finish my training.”

  Chapter 23

  The Escape

  Fadan had not been taken with the other prisoners to the lower decks. Instead, the Paladin Commander, a tall man as thin as a needle, had ordered the Prince be taken to his own quarters within the fore castle of the ship. It was a wide, almost luxurious cabin, with finely sculpted woodwork covering the furnishings and the ceiling.

  Rain clattered ceaselessly on the cabin’s large window. Through it, Fadan could see the dark mass of water outside, shifting and rolling as if a god was playing with the world, creating mountains only to quickly turn them into bottomless chasms. Aboard this larger vessel, however, the ocean’s turbulence felt somewhat less violent. It still forced the Prince to hold on to something every once in a while, but that was only because he couldn’t bring himself to sit down.

  The Paladins had taken his sword but otherwise had not restrained him. Most importantly, they had not Syphoned him. Which meant his father knew he was collaborating with the Rebels, but not that he was a Mage. It was beyond puzzling

  Whomever the mole was, he or she had known about both the rescue and Fadan’s involvement, but not his abilities. That ruled out everyone he had travelled with, as well as his mother’s spy. The problem was… that was it. No one else knew.

  There was a knock on the door. The Paladin Commander stepped in.

  “Your majesty,” the man said with a small bow. “I believe we have not been introduced. I am Commander Therian. Third Inquisitor of the Augustan Paladin Cadre. I trust you are comfortable?”

  Fadan nodded. “What about the men and women who came with me?”

  “They’ve been taken below, to the cargo hold,” Therian replied, pacing around Fadan as if inspecting a subordinate. “We were already carrying quite a few rebel prisoners. They’ll fit right in.”

  “What is to happen to the prisoners?” Fadan demanded. “All of them?”

  “That is for your father to decide, and for us to obey.” Therian paused. “Your majesty.” The words seemed to have left a bitter taste in his mouth. He extended a hand. “I will require the Glowstone device. Now.”

  Fadan returned the Commander’s cold stare but did not flinch.

  He can’t possibly mean the Transmogaphon, he thought. Otherwise, I would be wearing a Syphon.

  Slowly, Fadan reached inside his shirt and removed his mother’s pendant, taking care not to reveal his other Glowstone necklace.

  “Thank you,” Therian said, collecting the pendant. He turned on his heels and marched to the door, then turned around. “One other thing. I have kept you unshackled, and even offered my own quarters out of respect for you father, but should you give me any trouble at all…” His eyes narrowed on Fadan. “Well, let’s say my orders are quite clear. Your survival is preferred, but it is not mandatory.”

  The door slammed behind the Commander, leaving behind a dumbstruck Fadan. What did that mean? Had his own father ordered his death?

  Thunder drummed outside, and a flash of lightning illuminated the cabin for a moment. It was too late for such thoughts. He had made his decision, and now he had to stick with it. Even though everything seemed lost, he still had one spell card up his sleeve. His magic.

  He stepped to the cabin door and peeked through the lock. There were guards standing outside, their shadows moving and their voices loud enough that he could almost understand what they said.

  Carefully, Fadan picked up a chair from the Commander’s desk and fitted its back under the door handle. It felt like a somewhat useless precaution, but it couldn’t hurt his chances either. Then, he took a deep breath.

  I really hope there’s an empty room down there, he thought.

  He exhaled, reopening his eyes, and fell through the floor.

  Something appeared in his way and Fadan reacted, rematerializing long before reaching the floor. He landed on top of a barrel and it swooned with the impact. The Prince flailed at the ceiling, and his feet danced with the barrel until it stabilized.

  His heart was pounding, and he tried to steady his breathing, fearing it was too loud. Fadan checked his surroundings. He was in some sort of storeroom. Shafts of light slithered in through the door frame, revealing the contours of all kinds of containers. That had been phenomenally lucky. Not only was he alone, but he had also not lost his legs by rematerializing inside a barrel. How he had seen it despite the darkness was beyond him.

  Carefully, Fadan got down from the barrel and went for the door. It would have helped if he knew the ship’s exact layout, but he did know carracks tended to be triple-deckers, which meant there would be a third deck below him where the prisoners would be held.

  Fadan peered through the door lock, checking the other side. He had expected a silent corridor or a cargo hold. Instead, he found a wide, open area that resembled the attic where he’d practiced his magic in Citadel. The problem was, every single Paladin on the ship seemed to be right there. There were dozens of them, spread across the area as if it was their barracks.

  Fire take me! Fadan thought.

  The good news was that most of them looked to be asleep. The bad news, that plenty of them weren’t, and there was no way he would be able to sneak past them.

  What in the world was he supposed to do now? Falling through the floor once again was an obvious option if he wanted to go further down, but he had already risked too much doing it once, and he had no intention of losing a limb or finding himself in the ocean below.

  Fadan opened the door a tiny slit to get a better look at the other room. There were barrels, benches, and crates here and there, but they were too far apart from each other. He wouldn’t be able to sneak behind them. Magic was his only option.

  Then, he saw it. A small pile of equipment tucked in a corner. Some of the sleeping Paladins had taken their armor and weapons off. There were swords, cuirasses, crimson Paladin waistbands, even helmets.

  It wasn’t exactly an invisibility spell, but it was better than the alternative. Maybe…

  Of course, he still had to sneak out of the storeroom and get to the equipment.

  Unless the equipment comes to me…

  Fadan decided to experiment with the waistband. It was just cloth. If something went wrong and it fell to the floor, at least, it would be silent.

  Tapping his power, the Prince focused on one of the red stripes on top of the equipment pile and willed it to come to him. The waistband came alive, like a snake being charmed by a Cyrinian piper. It glided towards Fadan like an eel across a pond when‒‒

  CLANG!

  The band had had its other end stuck beneath a sword. As Fadan pulled it towards himself, it had tilted the weapon sideways, sending it clattering to the floor.

  Fadan shrunk back behind the door, ho
lding his breath.

  A nearby group of Paladins played cards around an overturned crate. They swung at once, startled, shooting angry looks at the bundle of gear.

  “Damn storm…” one of them complained. “Who in their right mind sails this far into the broken sea anyway?”

  “Just play your card, Nor.”

  “I’m telling you,” Nor said. “That Commander is gonna get us all killed.”

  “Yeah, right. It’s not the storm that’s losing all your money.”

  “No. It’s the lousy hands you’ve been dealing me all night.”

  The group chuckled and scolded as they returned to their game.

  Exhaling heavily with relief, Fadan peeked outside again and focused on the crimson waistband laying on the floor. He tugged at it with his mind and it glided, drawing serpentines inches over the floor, until it finally reached the door. Fadan was so happy he almost giggled.

  He brought a sword to him next, followed by a helm, and finally one of the black cuirasses.

  The Paladin uniform didn’t exactly fit him perfectly, but it would have to do.

  Alright, Fadan thought. Now for the hard part.

  He had no idea if those Paladins all knew each other well or not. If this was a single unit that had been together for a while, this was going to be a very short lived plan.

  Muttering a silent prayer, Fadan opened the door and strode out, brushing past the card players. One of them glanced at him, but everyone else was far more interested in their game.

  Fadan’s heart was hammering in his chest as he meandered through the crowd of Paladins. He made sure to keep his head low and avoid any eye contact. There was a staircase leading below, right in the middle of the deck. The prisoners would surely be down there. If Fadan could somehow find a way to release them, they would outnumber the Paladins. It would be a hard fight, but they could take the ship.

  There was no one guarding the stairs. No one tried to stop him or asked any questions as he descended into the prisoner’s hold. These Paladins had already decided they had won. They were about to have a very bitter surprise.

  There was barely any light in the lower deck. A forest of silhouettes littered the floor. At least three hundred people piled on top of each other, their chains clinking with their every move. A couple of Paladins had been stationed down there as well. One of them slept over a wooden crate, snoring loudly. The other tilted his head when he saw Fadan.

  The Prince glanced over his shoulder, just to make sure no one had followed him, then returned his gaze to the guard.

  Right, time to end this.

  He saw a hammer, hanging on a beam in the ceiling, right behind the Paladin who was staring at him.

  “What is it?” the guard asked. “You lost?”

  Fadan extended an arm forward and tapped his power. The Paladin must have found it very odd to see him waving his hand around, but before he had time to ask any questions, the hammer smacked across the back of his head and he fell flat on the floor.

  There was a commotion among the prisoners, which Fadan quickly silenced with a shush before racing to the body of the fallen Paladin. He searched the man’s belt and removed a thick bundle of keys, held together with a metal ring

  “Your majesty?” someone whispered.

  Despite the darkness, Fadan recognized Lucilla’s hairless features and rushed to her. He found the lock on her shackles, trying several keys until one them finally clicked, and opened the metal braces.

  “I knew you wouldn’t just give up on us,” Shayna whispered. She was sitting next to Lucilla and Fadan released her next.

  “Use your shackles to bind those Paladins,” Fadan said lowly, proceeding to the next prisoner. “And find a way to gag them.”

  Whispers filled the hold as the crowd of prisoners realized what was happening.

  “What took you so long?” Sabium asked when it came his time to be released. “Girls chasing you again?”

  Fadan chuckled, then looked over at Lucilla and Shayna. “This time, I was the one chasing the girls, master.”

  “I suppose my lessons weren’t in vain after all,” the old Mage said, rubbing at his now free wrists.

  Alman was next. He took over for the Prince, releasing the remaining prisoners while Fadan joined Lucilla and Shayna near the staircase.

  “What now?” Shayna asked. The two guards were bound and gagged at her feet, struggling uselessly.

  “Now we take the ship,” Fadan replied.

  “There’s whole lot of Paladins up there, though…”

  “Most of them are asleep,” the Prince said. He indicated the Paladin cuirass he was wearing. “And not even armed.”

  More and more rebels stood, released from their chains, and a sense of excitement began to fill the hold. Then, among the faces, Fadan recognized someone.

  The Prince knelt and grabbed his arm. “Doric?”

  “Let me go!” Doric begged, skidding backwards.

  Fadan did as requested, standing back up.

  “Not everyone in here will be able to fight,” Shayna told him.

  The Prince nodded, studying Doric’s vacant eyes. “Will he ever recover?”

  “He’s stronger than he looks,” Shayna replied.

  “We should hurry,” Lucilla intervened. “Before someone decides to come down here to check on things.”

  “Agreed,” the Prince said, stepping forward.

  “Your majesty.” Lucilla cut in front of him. “If you don’t mind, this is my part. You’ve certainly done yours.”

  Fadan smiled. “Of course,” he said, taking a step back. “You take this from here.”

  “Alright,” Lucilla addressed the entire hold in a low voice. “Everyone ready?”

  Nods and whispered yeses filled the deck. Lucilla double checked the top of the stairs.

  “Good. Now, there’s more of us than there are of them, so let’s give them the wrath of Ava. There may be weapons laying around. Get to them fast, and most importantly, don’t linger at the top of the stairs. We can’t get bottled up down here. Now,” she took one last look at the upper deck, “let’s make these bastards pay. For the Rebellion!”

  “FOR THE REBELLION!”

  Fadan didn’t exactly climb the stairs. He was dragged as the crowd flooded upstairs. Lucilla and Shayna lead the charge and single handedly took down a group of five Paladins, stealing their weapons.

  At first, the Paladins were frozen, and those near the stairs fell quickly. Eventually, they overcame their stupor and began to put up a fight. Alarm bells tolled and the screams of battle filled the air.

  Fadan saw a sword falling towards Shayna’s head. Before he could even think about it, he pushed with his power. The attacker was sent flying away, knocking down two of his comrades with him.

  “Clear the staircase!” Lucilla ordered, her sword moving in a blur. “Push to the edges of the deck!”

  Fadan obeyed and rushed forward to aid Lucilla’s vanguard, but a hand pulled him back.

  “No.” It was Sabium. “Stand back. Where they can’t Syphon you. You’re not a frontline fighter. You’re a spell caster. Stand back and provide support.”

  A sort of battle line was starting to form as the Paladin officers managed to organize their defense. Some of the prisoners had found weapons and were giving their jailors one heck of a fight, but most were forced to make do with whatever they could find – benches, crates, rope, hammers, whatever. It made for a poor fighting force. Luckily, they still had their numbers on their side.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of Runium would you?” the old Mage asked Fadan as he scanned the fight.

  “No,” Fadan replied. His head was spinning around, trying to keep track of what was happening.

  “Well, couldn’t hurt to ask,” Sabium muttered.

  The battle was quickly deteriorating into absolute chaos. Bodies were beginning to pile on both sides, and the bloodied and wounded tried to limp or drag themselves to safety, wailing in pain.

/>   Fadan spotted a Paladin going for the kill on one of the rebels and lifted him into the air, smacking him against the ceiling. Not even the helmet kept the man from being knocked out.

  “Well done,” Sabium said. “There!”

  Fadan saw it. A spear headed straight to a rebel’s chest. He focused on the weapon, yanked it from the Paladin, and smacked him across the head so hard the weapon cracked in two.

  “Mage!” one of the Paladins yelled. “They got a Mage.”

  The howl of a horn joined the chorus of alarm bells.

  “Crap, they know,” Fadan said.

  “Never mind about that,” Sabium told him. “Focus on the fight. There!”

  Fadan lifted a barrel into the air and hurled it at a cluster of Paladins, pieces of wood flying everywhere as it smashed on its target.

  “Remember,” Sabium added, “we’re on a floating torch, so no fire.”

  Fadan nodded in agreement and swung, looking for anyone else needing his assistance. He saw a rebel fighting with a wooden board. The poor man tried to parry a blow from an axe, the board splitting in two. As the attacking Paladin swung his axe back for another attack, Fadan noticed the glint of a blade and focused on it with his power. He hurtled it through the air just in time to parry a blow to the rebel’s head. Unfortunately, the man was outnumbered, and a dagger from a second Paladin struck him down before the Prince could do anything about it.

  The casualties were growing, and dozens of men and women now covered the floor, holding onto bleeding wounds. Their numerical advantage was steadily disappearing.

  “Over there! The Prince!” Fadan heard someone yell. “Syphon him!”