“To hunt and kill Ragnor, preferably with assistance from magi in this town.”
Noticeable gasps went up amongst the council members. When that finished, it was like someone had dropped a mute spell upon the entire city. Even people strolling nearby seemed to overhear what was happening and stopped.
“You are serious,” Roland said, his voice half in awe, half in terror.
Artemia shrugged and nodded. Though both projected calm exteriors, Eric had a feeling what laid beneath couldn’t be more different. One actually was calm and certain. The other was a firestorm of thoughts, with embers dancing around as it decided upon the best course of action.
“What you are suggesting you will do is something that terrifies me both in the present and existentially,” Roland said. “It is a dangerous move. We must discuss this in a town hall. For what you do does not just affect you and your ambitions, whatever they may be, but all of us in Dabira. Come with me, we will feed you and then talk.”
Roland looked to the rest of the magi, who all rose, looks of fear etched on their faces. Many of these magi probably lived in the attack that killed Rey and my mother. When they hear what we have to say, they’ll have to join us. We must destroy Ragnor.
* * *
Roland was a man of his word. Within just half an hour, he had organized a feast for the three hunters, who sat at a table near the front of a long hall with he and the other eight councilors. A half-dozen other tables took up the hall, all of them full with curious magi. They fed Artemia, Eric, and Abe the finest meat Eric had tasted—yes, even better than what the emperor had provided—with potatoes so finely cut and crafted it seemed impossible for man to have made them.
And the best part was, they seemed to have an unlimited supply of it. Because of the deliciousness of the potatoes, Eric kept scooping them into his mouth far faster than he would a normal meal. As soon as it looked like two more fork stabs would clear his plate, someone came by with more. If not for the true reason for being in this town hall, Eric might just describe the situation as the bliss he’d sought.
During the actual meal, conversation was kept intentionally casual and low-key. The magi who spoke to the hunters asked for tales of Mathos. Eric tried to keep his words positive and away from the subject of death. He spoke of how small the city was, and how that led to an intimacy he did not find in the capitol. He mentioned the beautiful mountain scenery, and how one would wake up to see the sun rising on the opposite side of the mountain ranges, as if painting the entire peaks and snow-capped points with orange light.
He did not mention the dragons which emerged once the sun had finished its work for the day. He did not mention the guild by the massive sea, the one that apparently had functioned as the emperor’s home many years before. He did not mention the deaths that dragons brought.
He did, however, ask numerous questions about Dabira. He wanted to know the town’s history. He wanted to know what it was like living in such a small community, even smaller than Mathos. He wanted to know about the town’s climate year-round, the surrounding fields and mountains, and the friendliness of the town. He did not press too hard—he didn’t ask questions about the empire and non-magi living in town—figuring he would save those for after defeating Ragnor.
He wanted the magi to speak about when Ragnor had attacked Dabira six years ago, but he held his tongue. Now was not the time. In fact, he wondered if he would even ask before facing off against Ragnor.
Abe scarcely spoke a word. He seemed wrapped up in his head more than usual. Artemia, for her part, played the part of politician perfectly, smiling, laughing, and asking engaging questions, even when Eric knew she meant none of it.
After about fifteen minutes of feasting, Roland cleared his throat and asked for attention.
“First, guests of Dabira, hunters from Mathos by way of Caia, I welcome you all,” he said, leading to polite nods of thanks from the hunters. “It is extraordinarily rare that we receive guests of the courteous and polite kind, and this will not be forgotten. However, we brought you three to this banquet because we need to bring attention to your stated purpose for being here. Artemia, would you please speak to what you wish to do?”
Artemia rose without a worry, as if she were here to announce she was visiting a long lost relative. All eyes shifted to her, and Eric fidgeted.
“We are here to hunt Ragnor and kill him, preferably with assistance from the magi here.”
Murmurs went through the crowd. A few children raised their voices, but no one broke into hysterics. A clear nervous energy was pervading the room, however. Eric didn’t foresee it becoming ugly, but a lack of help could hurt just as much as direct opposition.
Artemia took a seat. She still wore the stoic expression like it was her resting, default face.
“Artemia,” Roland said, drawing silence and attention back to him. “Let us ignore what darkness came with you the last time you showed up here. While we admire the ambition that you possess and have no doubt about your skills, having played a critical role in the defeat of Indica, we fear that you grossly underestimate the challenge ahead of you. Ragnor’s sheer size alone ensures that many of your normal strategies will not work against it. I fear, even if you had magi, you would simply stand no chance. Even if you did, even if you defeated Ragnor, there is no telling what unforeseen consequences may yet arise. Already, other magi and I have sensed great changes in Hydor from the elimination of Indica.
“And that is assuming you will even get reach the beast’s resting cave. By my best estimations, if you move at a steady pace without having to stop, it will take you three weeks just to get there. Meaning that should you succeed, from the time you leave to returning, you will be gone well over a month. Assuming, too, that you even find Ragnor’s resting spot.”
He seemed to intentionally pause, as if to let the imaginations of the hunters run wild for a couple of seconds. It didn’t work, as Eric was more captured by Artemia’s complete poise than he was in the words of Roland. Sure, briefly, he thought about the southern mountains, but only in the context of how majestic and royal they looked, not in terms of the danger. He hunted dragons for a living—it was going to take a lot to make him feel out of place.
Especially considering Ragnor. Nothing is going to stop me from getting to him.
“There is no land more full of wild, uncontrollable creatures than to the south of this city. I would venture to say that if you went north of Mathos or east of Caia, you would not encounter lands so full of dangerous beasts. You may be trained hunters, but these creatures are born predators. Not made. It will be an extraordinarily difficult task.
“Nevertheless, let us assume that somehow you survive the southern lands and reach Ragnor. First, a creature of that size… let me ask simply, how will you kill it? And I am not asking for hypothetical answers. This is not a rhetorical question. Artemia, I want you to truthfully and genuinely answer that question.”
“How,” Artemia said. “How? How would I answer such a thing now? Some dragons we have killed by decapitation, others by chopping their wings off and letting them crash off a mountain. Others we stab through the chest from its back. Others have unique attack frequencies that require special strategies. There are many ways to kill a dragon; to limit us to just one would be foolhardy and arrogant.”
“Perhaps so, and that speaks to your intelligence and adaptability, except that every strategy you mentioned cannot possibly work against Ragnor. The monster is just too massive, too thickly built, too… too complex a thing to be taken down by a simple attack. I am sorry, Artemia, but there is no way that you are going to kill that beast. Either you die on the way, or it kills you as soon as you come face to face with it.”
“But you said it yourself, Roland. What I said speaks to our intelligence and adaptability, no? If that is true, then when we reach Ragnor, we will be able to adapt accordingly and figure out a way to kill it.”
Roland hemmed and hawed, searching for an answer. He looked like he felt pinned,
but all Artemia had done was use vague arguments to make him feel trapped.
Then again, what did this meeting matter? They were going to fight anyways. Artemia, perhaps, wasn’t making this argument to Roland so much as she was to the other magi in the room. She didn’t need to persuade their leader or everyone. She just needed to persuade enough magi to have a shot.
“Fine,” Roland said dismissively. “Let us play along this hypothetical all the same. Let us say that you somehow kill Ragnor. You collect its power, you end its reign to the south, and all is well. You know what comes next, don’t you?”
Artemia’s eyes flickered for a second, as if she was visualizing the exact same thing that Roland was asking about. But she gathered herself and shook her head no. Eric was pretty sure this was just a ruse, an act that was not how Artemia actually felt.
“No, you don’t, and neither do I, which terrifies me,” Roland said. “I do not like to act when I don’t know the consequences. Hydor and its nature are too complex for us to pretend we know every outcome of our actions. But let me tell you what the legend of the magi say, because if it’s even a tenth true, it should terrify you. It states that Bahamut, or as you might know him, the king of kings, the emperor of the dragons, the apocalypse, shall gain complete power over Hydor if Ragnor is defeated. You can think of the three dragons as keeping a balance to each other—if two should fall, the one will rise and shape the world in their image. Already, as I have said, the world has begun to show some strain from the destruction of Indica.
“You may think that defeating Indica was a mark of honor. If you defeat Ragnor, you may think that that is the case. But the last time Bahamut was pushed away, it took the greatest mage the world has known, Garo, to do this. And even then, Garo did not so much defeat Bahamut as beat him away for a time being. If you unleash Bahamut freely upon this world, I will stand by your side, but only so I can die fighting. I will wish you had never come here, because unleashing Bahamut means dire consequences I do not wish to live to see. And if you choose to fight Ragnor, either you lose, or you win and this happens.”
Artemia listened with rapt attention, held up a single finger when he finished speaking, and then charged ahead.
“You just said that it may only be a tenth true. How can you be so sure of the king of kings returning upon the defeat of Ragnor?”
“The legend cannot be denied, Artemia,” Roland said. “Within every legend there is a lesson of truth, even if it is wrapped in layers of exaggeration and myth. Perhaps Bahamut can be defeated more easily than we suspect. Or, maybe the death of Indica means these two dragons will just duel for supremacy. But in any case, I feel confident in saying what is true, and that is that we all suffer no matter what if you attack Ragnor. At one time, Garo lived in this land. He warned us to protect the land and he told us that Bahamut would make the world in his image if we hunted the remaining dragons down. He told us that if we overstepped our bounds and took land beyond what Chrystos had given humanity, we would all suffer. Even if this suffering doesn’t come at the claws of a dragon, I would rather my town not suffer. As the man who pushed back Bahamut, essentially a god of dragons, I would just as soon take Garo’s word for it.”
“And if he’s wrong?”
A gasp came over the room as if Artemia had just committed blasphemy so great, it caused ears to bleed. Whoever this Garo was, he was revered not just as a man, but something more. A legendary historical figure? Or perhaps even a deity?
Eric felt uncomfortable with the atmosphere of the room. If, in fact, she was trying to appeal to all magi and not just the council, she was doing a terrible job of it.
The question had certainly knocked Roland out of sorts. He stumbled over his answer for a few moments.
“Then I will be the happiest man in the world, for it will mean that humanity is free of the greatest threat it has ever known. However, I will not allow such naive hopes to color me.”
“I agree with that sentiment, councilor.”
It sounded slightly sarcastic, as if Artemia didn’t respect the title that Roland had for himself.
“But we must consider all possibilities. At some point, history becomes legend, and as you say, legend has a way of blurring fact and fiction. Sometimes deliberately.”
Roland cleared his throat.
“And this Bahamut, if he is such a king of kings, then how was a single mage able to defeat him?”
“Garo had powers that we can only hope to achieve by combining our forces. And as I said, he did not ‘defeat’ him. He merely pushed him into hiding for the last two hundred years.”
“Then how come no other mage has met his powers yet?”
The room was becoming stifling. Even Artemia seemed to sense it, for her next words took on a more conciliatory tone.
“I ask these questions, Roland, not to mock what you believe in or to cast doubt upon its validity. I myself, as a dragon hunter, have paintings of the three dragons in my headquarters back in Mathos. If you think that I mock what you say, I apologize.”
Do you?
“But I also deliberately question everything that I hear, and it makes me a better hunter. Oftentimes, the greatest lies are the statements that never get directly addressed. When you think of Indica, for example, what do you think of?”
“Blue flame,” Roland said. “Majestic body. Guardian of the seas.”
“Perhaps in years past, yes, that would be fair to say. But we just slaughtered the beast, Roland. I can assure you it looked more like a dragon on its last legs than a dragon that could kill. Of course it killed many men, several of them my own. I feel great sorrow for having lost them.”
You don’t look it.
“Perhaps Ragnor, through the years of residing in the southern mountains, has lost some of his power too. Perhaps the beast is not what it once was and is now a shell of itself. Maybe not. We should plan as if it is as strong as it has ever been. But we should also be aware that sometimes, time can weaken an enemy as much as attacks can. Or, conversely, sometimes legend embellishes the truth to the point of absurdity.”
“That may be so,” Roland suddenly said with a great deal of force, as if wrestling control of the conversation back from Artemia. “But even if that were the case, even if he was half the dragon he once was, you do not stand a chance. Three hunters without the power of magic do not stand a chance against Ragnor at half-strength.”
“Which, let me emphasize again, is why I’m here. We came to Dabira with the intent of slaughtering Ragnor, yes. I have my reasons, and my hunters certainly have their reasons. But without you, we will not win. I need your help. I want you and whichever magi wish to join to come with me to the southern lands.”
Gasps and hurried whispers flew in the hall.Roland looked around, trying to gauge the general reaction, but no one spoke to him. They instead spoke to their spouses, their siblings, or their children, but not to their superior. Eric couldn’t pick up on the words, but the confusion at least ensured that some magi probably considered Artemia’s words carefully.
“With you, however, we can achieve that ever-slipping pursuit that we can grasp our hands around briefly but never hold for long—peace. Peace for the magi and peace with the empire. I know that your kind sees the dragons as gods, but I also know that you have heard of the damage brought to Caia. Ignore for a moment your relations with the empire. Think of what Ragnor could do with Dabira. I ask this of your town, Roland. Think of what can happen if we do it. Join me.”
Roland, seeing that no on was going to back him up, instead waited for the crowd to silence. He was the picture of calm and poised, but Eric could sense the slightest bit of unevenness facing Artemia. Even the emperor had displayed that when faced with the dragon hunter guild master. There was just a way that she spoke of serious topics with such complete calm that seemed to throw even the most stoic of men into emotional uncertainty.
“While we are certainly appreciative of your offer, Artemia, and we are grateful for your services, this
is a place in which we must say no,” Roland said.
Eric looked to Artemia. She seemed unfazed. In fact, the smile on her face had not changed at all. It seemed more like she had become completely accepting of what Roland said. Eric noticed her placing her hand on the crystal around her neck, but she did not do anything more than fidget with it.
“First of all, you do not know that peace will come if we slaughter Ragnor. Do you think the seas have become more peaceful with the defeat of Indica? I think not. Do you think that Caia has suddenly decided to stop keeping an eye on Dabira? As much as I would like to think so, I think not. Second, no matter how much you believe in you and your hunters’ abilities, I do not believe in them nor do I believe in any magi short of Garo fighting Ragnor. Third, even if I am wrong, to go back to my first point, I don’t care to see Bahamut consume the world. So. Let me spell it out for you, Artemia. Spend the night here. You have had a long and undoubtedly perilous journey from Caia. You deserve a night on land. But after that, you should return to Caia.”
The city name sounded like food so bitter it caused his tongue to fold on itself.
“You will not defeat Ragnor with the three of you. We will not help. Unless you wish to proceed on a suicide mission, I encourage you all to go home. My magi, of course, can make their own decision, but we are all of the same mind. We all know the threat of Ragnor. We have no intentions of stirring the beast.”
Artemia rose. Eric braced himself for a confrontation. He looked to Abe, pursing his lips in anticipation.
“If you choose not to listen to me, if you choose to ignore what Indica did to Caia, if you choose to ignore the past and in doing so not prepare for the future, then that is not on my hands, Roland, it is on yours.”
She then looked to the crowd. Eric looked at Roland, who had bit his lip.
“Listen closely to what I have said. I know you have great respect for Roland, as do I, even though we clearly have our disagreements. But I have witnessed too much death for me not to try and recruit you to action.”
Demons of the Hunter Page 15