Dragonhunters

by Sabrina Chase

  Gutrune retrieved and lit her lantern and picked up the package of food, mostly dried fruit and nuts. Markus retrieved the bag of qui–‌me before she could add it to her burdens.

  “You will need some kind of light on your return, you know. The footing is quite uneven.” No response, but no objection either. Markus continued to make idle observations on the curious structure they were sheltering in, the nature of sandstorms, and how it all reminded him of a youthful trip to the seashore where he had done his best to stow away on a fishing boat.

  “Ardhuin?” Gutrune called softly when they reached the door, now set ajar. She gave no indication she had heard a word of what he had said.

  An equally quiet voice bade them enter. Gutrune shifted the lamp to a narrow slit and crouched down to get past the door. Markus followed.

  Ardhuin was seated on the ground by Dominic, who appeared to be asleep. He was very pale and turned his head restlessly as if unable to find a comfortable position. Ardhuin took his hand, which had emerged from under the blanket as he tossed, and Dominic instantly quieted with a small sigh.

  “Sonam suggested trying this,” Gutrune whispered, indicating the qui–‌me. “It contains a slight amount of alcohol—‌and we need to conserve our water.” She explained the damage that had happened during the storm.

  “But there is water here,” murmured Dominic, startling everyone. His eyelids flickered, opening slightly. Markus discreetly stepped back into the deeper shadow. There was no need to agitate him in his current state. Although he did not sound as…‌hallucinatory as he had the previous day, he still made no sense. The entire building was bone–‌dry, not even showing signs of insects.

  “What do you mean? Where?” Ardhuin, strangely, was taking his feverish statement at face value.

  Dominic gave a small smile. “When we had to climb up the rocks…‌there was a bright sign. Like this.” His free hand sketched a shaky spiral with a long tail. “I smelled water there. And heard it. It was moving…‌” His voice faded and his eyes closed again.

  “When he is overexposed to strong magic, as he was, his…‌other senses become incredibly acute,” Ardhuin said. “I know it sounds strange, but if he smelled water, it is there.”

  “Then we will look for it.”

  Gutrune got back to her feet. Markus dodged out of the room, hoping to prevent his sudden blinding insight from becoming apparent. All of his senses, eh? How very amus…‌no. With a sinking feeling, he realized he would have to remain forever in official ignorance. While it would have been the height of rudeness to indicate his understanding to Ardhuin of what precisely had happened the previous day, he could not even subtly twit Dominic about it in private—‌even apologizing would be counterproductive.

  And either Gutrune had phenomenal self–‌control, or she had led a more sheltered life than he thought possible at court. No, that was unlikely. Given her character and situation, though, her knowledge was bound to be predominately theoretical.

  “I suppose the place where we ‘climbed up the rocks’ is the section where the roof fell in,” Markus observed. He wasn’t expecting an answer, so he was surprised when Gutrune spoke.

  “I have not seen any signs, bright or otherwise. Yet he was clearly seeing something last night that fascinated him on the walls.”

  “So…‌magic, then. Interesting. One wonders what people lived here. More importantly, how can we see what he did? Perhaps there will be only one way to go, and it will not matter.”

  With magefire, the area of the roof–‌fall revealed an unfortunate plethora of possible routes. The hall widened here, which had perhaps weakened the roof in the first place, and several avenues opened up from it.

  “Why would anyone want to embed magic in a wall? And how could it possibly last so long?” Now that he thought about it, hadn’t Dominic seen magic in the ancient lighthouse in Aleksandri? It would seem the ancients knew a few things they had not seen fit to share.

  “Perhaps the people here had similar gifts to his—‌and these markings would only reveal themselves to those intended to see them, and not to outsiders.” Gutrune ran her hand over the stone wall, studying it. At least she was talking with him now.

  Magic, and magic that persisted in an object. Ardhuin had embedded illusion in a metal charm. He did not have the skill to do that, but did he need to? Magefire was a very simple spell and took little power. If some material had already been infused, would it be more amenable to further adjustment?

  “I’m going to try an experiment.” Markus hoped they were distant enough that the magic would not discomfort Dominic.

  He placed his hands on the wall, closed his eyes, and summoned power, concentrating on the magefire spell, focusing his entire attention on sending that and nothing else. An indrawn breath from Gutrune made him open his eyes again, and he grinned. As he had hoped, faint glowing traces of design were now visible on the section of wall he had touched.

  “Well. I hope we find this spiral soon, because there is more wall than I have power.” Markus felt his optimism returning. Gutrune was examining the design with a look of wonder.

  “How very strange…‌I have never seen anything like it.”

  It took three more tries, but he found the spiral at last. He was eager to go looking at once, but Gutrune with great prudence insisted they let the others know what they were about. Markus supposed it was a good idea for people to have some idea of where to start looking if disaster struck.

  The first thing he noticed when they returned was light in the passageway under the spiral sign. Stone elements that he had thought were merely decorative, a kind of column capital shaped like a simple flower, now glowed with a soft, pale gold light.

  “The magefire looks different,” Gutrune observed.

  His earlier adventurousness had vanished, replaced by wary caution. “That’s because it isn’t magefire. I didn’t do that—‌at least, not directly.” It would be just his luck to have awakened the ghostly inhabitants with his magic. Perhaps the magic he’d used had…‌percolated through and activated them? “And a very good thing. I can rest up. Something tells me we’ll be needing more magic shortly.”

  The passageway was not very wide and had no side openings so far. It was also sloping downward. He looked back and could just make out a gentle curve as well. The spiral? The stonework was in good repair, and with little debris or sand the path was easy. He wished he could see ahead better or had a sense of where they were. When everything looked the same, how could they tell?

  Identical, that is, until they came to an impressive metal gate. It completely blocked the passageway, which either ended or the lights were not working beyond it, judging from the darkness he saw through the bars. Markus grabbed the gate and shook it. It did not even creak.

  “Bah. Iron. It feels very well secured, too, so I doubt we can just batter it down. But is it worth trying?”

  Gutrune fingered one of the bars, looking thoughtful. “I believe so. Look.” She pointed. At the base of the bar, where it met a crosspiece, it was rusted. The gate had further traces of rust, all on the opposite side of where they were.

  “Fascinating. I suppose there must be water somewhere, then, or there used to be. Now, how do we get past this?” He tapped a section he had first taken for a decorative element, made of interlocking metal plates. “Presumably this is a lock of some kind. I see no place for a key. Maybe we can simply batter this instead of the whole door? A pity it is iron, or I’d have more options.”

  Gutrune reached into her jacket and pulled out her pistol. “I suggest you step back, Herr Asgaya.”

  The noise in the narrow passageway was quite loud, and the acrid smoke was thick. It took two shots, but eventually the lock gave way—‌and Markus saw, looking at the fragments more closely, that they showed even more evidence of rust. The gate was stiff, but with both of them pulling they eventually got it open enough to slip past.

  “Well, that’s…‌disturbing.”

  Gutrune
turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “What?”

  “Two things, actually. One, there’s an air current moving the smoke away, beyond the gate. Secondly, it just occurred to me the people here must have had a good reason to put this rather substantial barrier here, and maybe it was to keep something out.” He pointed to a bar that was visibly bent, with deep gouges on the side. “Perhaps you should reload before we continue.”

  The passageway continued perhaps a hundred yards, now with niches every few feet and more debris underfoot. The glint of metal caught his eye, and he bent and picked up a section of mail made of metal scales. A few feet farther away was a human jawbone. As they kept walking, more fragments of human remains were visible, crumbling away, and then they came to another gate, similar to the first only much more severely rusted and warped off its hinges.

  He could feel a breeze now, chilly and damp against his skin. Beyond the ruined gate was darkness. The story told by the skeletal remains and the smashed gate were clear—‌a violent story. But how long ago? Would whatever had wrecked the gate still be here?

  We need that water.

  Markus pulled a piece of the gate free that was relatively undamaged by rust, long and sturdy, and propped it against the wall of the passageway.

  “That’s for re–‌barring the upper gate, in the event,” he said, trying to convey a nonchalant attitude. “I’m going to see what’s out there now.”

  Gutrune nodded and took a position against the far wall, covering the opening with her pistol. Markus considered a moment, then picked a spell primarily used for entertainment, a falling shower of silver light.

  It glittered in the air and was reflected back by a dome of rough rock that also glittered. A cave? White projections like icicles decorated the surface, but it did not feel cold enough to be ice. A stone platform led from the passageway to an edge with pillars. Indistinct shapes like boulders were scattered in one section of the platform, and in another, a large pile of bones.

  Nothing moved. No sign of life, no noise except the whisper of the breeze, and perhaps…‌the lapping of water?

  They waited in silence but nothing changed. No sound. Markus fired the silver shower again, and the same scene was revealed. Cautiously, they ventured out, Markus casting a large globe of magefire above and before them.

  The pile of large bones was a creature with a long, sinuous neck and scimitar–‌like teeth. The water they found at the base of the platform, which looked very much like a dock. A large half–‌circular opening could be seen on the opposite wall of the cave, certainly large enough for a barge or small ship. From the existing stairs down from the platform, which ended well above where they should, and watermarks on the cave wall, the water level had been much higher in the past, but there was still plenty for their purposes.

  Gutrune insisted on checking, so Markus held on to one hand as she dangled from the lowest step to dip her handkerchief in the water, and then pulled her up. She let the water drip into her mouth and tilted her head thoughtfully.

  “Well?”

  “Very cold. It tastes pure.” She used the handkerchief to wipe her face free of the ever–‌present dust. “We should tell the others immediately. The horses especially are feeling the lack.” She tugged her hand, still in his grasp, but he did not let go.

  “One moment more will not make a difference.”

  The old impassive, emotionless expression that he had learned to hate returned to her face. “Is it important?” Cool and distant, precisely as if she were discussing the weather.

  Well, he had spent considerable time at court himself. “Perhaps,” Markus said lightly. “We are a small group, relying heavily on each other. I have noticed something has disturbed your peace of mind since last night. You have never been, thank God, of a garrulous disposition, but you are taking that virtue to a dangerous extreme, don’t you think? If something troubles you, it must be a serious matter. It is not easy, traveling as we are, to find opportunities for confidential discussions, which is why I mention it now. Perhaps you do not wish to confide in me—‌but compared to our colleagues I have relatively few worries of my own at the moment and have no other wish than to be of service.” He let go reluctantly. Gutrune pulled her hand free and went quickly and silently up the stone stairs. “And running away won’t help,” he called after her.

  Gutrune stopped. He followed her up the stairs to the stone dock and waited.

  “It is a purely personal failing. A weakness.” There was a tremor in her voice. “There is nothing any of you can do to help me. I know that…‌you would help, if it were possible. What else can I do but keep it to myself? I…‌made a choice, a long time ago. I made it freely, I do not regret it—‌and I must accept the consequences.”

  “A long time ago, and you have learned nothing since? Nothing has changed; you have not gained new information? What an amazingly prescient person you must be. Or bloody stubborn.” I’m not exactly setting a new standard for diplomacy here, am I?

  “Oh, leave it be!” The words sounded wrenched from her, raw with emotion. She turned as if to confront him, her hands clenched into fists.

  “I can’t.” She rocked back on her heels slightly, eyes wide. Markus was surprised at his own vehemence. “You are in pain. I can no more ignore that than I can stop breathing.” Saying it, he realized with a chill that the two things were, in some level of his mind, the same. Enough. We can’t both be serious at the same time. “Unless, of course, my breathing is the problem? In that case I will have to request a delay, merely until we have finished our original task—‌and then you can proceed with smothering me. Or shooting me, if that is your preference.”

  “I shall consider the matter carefully,” Gutrune snapped. She closed her eyes and sighed, her head sagging down. “No, I don’t…‌” She was silent for a moment, then raised her head again, looking out at the cave and the water. “I thought I could evade the rules. Step outside of them. I thought the price of my freedom was…‌giving up all of the privileges the rules provide in exchange. It was not hard at first.” Her expression grew puzzled. “But when Ardhuin came to Baerlen as the Mage Guardian—‌she simply smashed through the rules as if they did not exist. I told myself it was because of her power. They feared her, and how would they dare to enforce the rules against someone like her? Yet what I have seen since…‌Herr Kermarec does not love her because he fears her. I do see when my opinions require change,” she said, rounding on him indignantly. “But what have my observations taught me that I can apply to my own case? I do not have great power and never will. But when you said…‌” her voice faltered, but she set her jaw and continued, “Never mind. Even if another such admirable man existed, and we understood each other as they do, we could not do what they have done.”

  A time of miracles. I am jealous of Dominic Kermarec. “Is that what you want?”

  “Perhaps,” she managed to say with dignity, a flush of color on her high cheekbones. “But it is not possible. I have sworn to serve the King. That is why I have been…‌preoccupied. It is only a momentary weakness and will pass.”

  “But if it could be accomplished…‌”

  “Is that what you want?” She gave a slight gasp, putting a hand over her mouth as if to trap the words, watching him warily.

  “Yes.” And there it was. Admitted freely, in a dank cavern under a forgotten city, with both of them grimy with travel and the least elegant they had ever been in their lives. It seemed strangely appropriate.

  Her color deepened. “But I cannot—‌that is, even if we could keep it secret from the King, I would not do so. I would have to seek his permission to marry—‌and he would never countenance the…‌kind of connections you have…‌it is reputed you have had at court.”

  He felt a breath jerk out of him as if he had been punched in the gut. It felt like that too—‌but Gutrune had every right to point out his behavior. He had not been celibate in the slightest, and now, like she, he was regretting his choice.

/>   “No, that was not what I had in mind, although I can understand the misapprehension.” His throat was tight, and it was very hard to speak. But he had to. “You are not the only one to have limited options available to you. I invite you to consider…‌the reaction of the family of any of the eligible young ladies at court…‌should I have presented myself as a prospective suitor,” he said softly. “Like you, I suppose, I believed it better to not even consider something I could not have—‌and instead pursued a poor substitute.”

  Her gaze softened. “I am sorry.” She reached out, hesitated, then rested her hand on his arm. With careful deliberation, he covered her hand with his own.

  “Among the people whose opinions I value, my interesting parentage made no difference,” Markus said, attempting lightness. And since there were so few of those, it was natural to want to keep them close. “Do I have your permission to try, milady?”

  “How do you think you can succeed?” she wondered.

  “I have the strongest of motivations. And since you mention Herr Kermarec—‌I feel constrained to point out he did not begin as a fearless adventurer and prospective consort to mages, but as a mere tutor with no notion of his special talents. Love can create a determination even mules find excessive.”

  A small smile briefly disturbed her mouth. “In other words, you will persist regardless of what I say.”

  “I would not dare oppose your will.”

  She met his gaze steadily, once more calm and collected. He had achieved that much, at least.

  “When we have done what we set out to do in Bhuta, you may try.”

  He gave a deep sigh. “Thank you.” He carried her hand to his lips with his most graceful bow, then tucked it through his arm as they walked back to the passageway. “A trifling matter of rescuing MacCrimmon and stopping Denais, then. I will set to work at once, milady.”

  Gutrune shook her head, but she was, just barely, smiling.