Demons of the Hunter (War of the Magi Book 2) Page 4

  Eric understood and gave a curt nod. Abe paused for a second and said to meet him in the atrium. He left and Eric dropped back to the bed. He was so tired, so fatigued. He wanted to shut his eyes—but only on the condition he wouldn’t see Ragnor or his mom and sister in his dreams. It just took too much out of him.

  Would it ever end? Ever? Even if he won?

  He did, in fact, close his eyes and jumped with a startle when he heard a knock on his door.

  “Hold on, hold on, I’m just wrapping some things up,” Eric said, cursing quietly for having nearly drifted back off to sleep.

  But whoever stood on the other side opened the door. Eric stood at attention, prepared to accept the berating of Artemia or Abe or—

  Tyus?

  “Eric, how are you?” he said.

  “Fine,” Eric said suspiciously as he went to gather his materials. He would need to find his sword, boots, clothing, and supplies as he talked to Tyus. “What are you doing here?”

  Tyus stepped inside the room and shut the door. He wore the finest royal clothing Eric had ever seen him in, wearing black pants, a black shirt with the Syrast Empire’s crest, and a gold cape. His hair looked far better groomed than normal, and his boots looked as polished as the emperor’s crown.

  “In about ten minutes, my father is going to give you, Artemia, and Abe a farewell speech. Knowing my father, it’s not going to be very favorable to you. He’ll probably say something about how lucky you are to have his blessing.”

  Eric had so much to say but thought better of it. Yes, he loathed the emperor, more for his incompetence and arrogance than anything else.

  But Tyus hadn’t spoken to them like this since the magi had imprisoned them somewhere in the depths of the city. For now, he would hold the smart remarks.

  “I won’t be able to speak to you at the ceremony, and if I get a chance to speak after, it will be incredibly brief. But I want you to know, Eric, how appreciative I am of what you’ve done.”

  Then he cracked a smile.

  “Not bad for someone weaker than I.”

  Eric gave a genuine chuckle. He didn’t have the energy or desire to crack the whip back at his former rival, but the soft smile showed his appreciation.

  “I’m sorry I can’t join you,” Tyus added.

  “Don’t be,” Eric said as he put his combat boots on. “This mission’s much more dangerous. I’m losing my mind thinking about it and it probably won’t end well. You’re… you’re probably best not being around me as long as this fight still goes on.”

  “Between you and Ragnor?”

  Eric didn’t need to respond for Tyus to know the answer to his question.

  “I’m consumed by it, Tyus. Even if you mocked me or teased me, I wouldn’t pay any attention to you. As it is, I barely pay any attention to anyone. Ragnor is the demon inside that I have to vanquish.”

  “So you can know peace?”

  “So my sister and mother can.”

  Tyus hesitated, but Eric ignored him, checking his sword for one final check.

  “Since they’re, uh, not here anymore, don’t you think they already know peace?”

  “No,” Eric said, but Tyus’ question wasn’t something so easily dismissed. It lingered in him, latching onto his conscious thoughts like a parasite. Why wouldn’t they know peace? His mother and sister lived admirably; because they got murdered, they wouldn’t rest in peace?

  Stop it. Don’t overthink it. It’s controlling you as it is.

  “Understood,” Tyus said, but neither boy believed that. “In any case, Eric, consider this me saying thank you and good luck.”

  “Thanks,” Eric said.

  Tyus lingered, as if waiting for a handshake, but Eric continued packing. The son of the emperor stayed for about a dozen seconds before giving a nod, his eyes a bit downcast, and walking out. Eric sighed as he plopped his bag on the bed.

  I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be. So let’s go.

  He made his way to the atrium, his feet heavy, his eyes heavier, and his mind the heaviest. He ignored the usual displays of reverence, locating Artemia and Abe standing near the doorway to the throne room. They had some notable distance between them.

  “You took long enough,” Abe said.

  “Am I late?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s all good,” Eric said. I’ve got to not be so on edge. This is only going to hurt.

  “Are you both prepared?” Artemia said.

  The guild master dressed far nicer than Eric had expected for someone so willing to speak to the emperor as an equal. She wore the combat boots, yes, but she wore a colorful red outfit that seemed more designed to catch eyes than prey. It extended down to the boots and went up to her shoulders, getting thinner with every inch up. He thought better of asking about it, though. She’s my boss. How she dresses and how she catches eyes means nothing to me.

  The door opened from the other side, right on schedule, and a guard escorted the hunters in, Artemia at the lead, Abe and Eric walking side by side.

  At the top of a flight of stairs, on his golden throne with red cushions, sat Emperor Rufus Syrast, a man who seemed to grow fatter, paler, and lose more hair by the month. Short on temper, high on narcissism, and lacking in emotional self-control, he was everything that Artemia was not. And that, in Eric’s mind, was the furthest thing from a compliment he could come up with.

  Past the emperor, he saw the familiar painting of the emperor holding the decapitated head of Bahamut. If anything could make him laugh on such little sleep and with such little patience, this was it. But even he knew better than to speak.

  As he had promised, Tyus stood to the emperor’s left, his hands folded in front of him, his chest held high, his chin raised. He looked every bit the arrogant Syrast. It’s a role he has to play. Let him do it. You’d probably do the same here.

  No, you are doing the same here.

  Guards lined the stairs. The guards all wore proper uniforms with steel armor and spears, equipment utterly useless in most battles but useful for looking intimidating and formal. A trumpet blared as a man waved a flag bearing the imperial crest. The emperor sat with his head in his left hand, bored and waiting for the song at hand to finish.

  Once it had, Eric, Artemia, and Abe all bowed, a gesture that Eric did lifelessly, barely bending over. He saw a small smile from Tyus, but did not return the expression, fearful someone might catch him doing so. May this be quick and easy.

  “Greetings,” the emperor said. Already, his voice sounded annoyed, as if he he hated the idea of giving attention to anyone other than himself. “Today, the three greatest members of the Dragon Hunter’s Guild embark on a journey to keep the great Syrast Empire safe from the threat that could spell the end of us all, the legendary dragon, Ragnor. These fine men and the fine woman, empowered by me, the great Emperor Syrast, serve us well.”

  Empowered by you, huh? Let’s see you come fight with us.

  Emperor Syrast then yawned, a surprisingly awful gesture even for a man like the emperor. Eric did his best not to show any disgust, even as he begged for the ceremony to end sooner rather than later. He glanced at Tyus, who pursed his lips. The guards within made no motion, barely blinking.

  “In my name, I bid you my blessing and the best of luck. I bless you with safety, good courage, and the desire to defend my empire.”

  The emperor could not have looked more strained as he spoke. Even as he talked of himself as if a god, capable of blessing men, it seemed like he thought all of this a waste of time. Which was one of the few things Eric agreed upon with the emperor. The sooner they got out of here and on the road, the better. The sooner they got out of the palace, the better.

  “Now, go and defeat Ragnor! This ceremony is over and I must depart for actual matters of importance.”

  The emperor stood and left the room so quickly his guard had to hurry to provide him a path. Eric now shot Abe and Artemia looks of amusement, but only Abe returned the favor. A
guard approached the three hunters to escort them out, but Tyus stopped them, asking for a moment.

  “I wish I could join all of you, but my father wishes for me to remain behind,” he said, shaking hands with each one. When he reached Eric, he kept his grip, but it was a bonding grip, not one designed to indicate dominance. “You’re going to win. I know you are. Keep being the great dragon hunter that you are, Eric, and you will have your revenge.”

  Eric shook the hand once more and smiled, unashamed and unconcerned about showing emotion now. He wanted to make up for the cold shoulder he’d given in the bedroom, and he wanted to make sure Tyus understood there was a true peace between them.

  “Thank you, Tyus,” he said, and he meant it genuinely. “You’ve come a long way.”

  “We’ve come a long way,” his former rival responded.

  Eric’s smile remained, a remarkable feat that felt nothing short of a miracle for the stress and lack of sleep and the person across from him. A few weeks ago, the boys had fought each other on the boat and in prison. They mocked each other for their fallacies.

  And now they acted like brothers.

  “Tyus!” the emperor bellowed from the rear of the room.

  Tyus rolled his eyes, gave one more nod to all of the hunters, and departed. For the first time that Eric could ever remember, he felt sympathy because of Tyus’ lineage, not disgust.

  It was quite a change from when the two had come to blows in the prison of the Shadows of the Empire. Hopefully, Eric thought, the two could fight together once more.

  Well, maybe not. Hopefully we can break bread together once more.

  Two guards came to escort the hunters out of the palace. Once they reached outside, Eric could not hide his eyes from the ugly sight in the streets, even as he had tried to avert his gaze from it the entire previous month. He knew this day would come, and now that he saw it, it somehow was worse than he’d remembered.

  Many buildings had become rubble. It looked like a giant war zone, as if the magi and soldiers had finally come to blows and the magi had knocked down every last building possible. The homeless population, a problem before Indica had ever risen from its valley, had swelled in numbers. The soldiers looked on edge, their bodies bruised and cut. The citizens kept their heads down and moved hurriedly.

  But that was not the most disturbing part.

  Instead, the corpse of Indica, slowly rotting to nothing—even the bone had begun dissolving—remained. As far as Eric knew, the emperor had ordered it remained untouched as a reminder that the empire was capable of slaughtering such great beasts, but it just seemed tacky. What did the citizens have to gain with the the body of Indica lying there? Did they not already worship the man or despise him? What would the body of a large beast do?

  Put it in a museum or a library if it matters so much. No wonder Caia feels on the brink. This is why I serve myself and the guild. Because the empire is, at best, incompetent.

  “How easily men assume that the display of trophies is more impressive than the display of hunting that bags the trophy,” Abe said, shaking his head.

  “Abe,” Artemia said, but her voice sounded more cautionary than aggressive.

  Eric snorted in disgust. He took one last glance back at the palace. In the emperor’s eyes, he, Artemia, and Abe—the entire Dragon Hunter’s Guild, at this point—fought for the glory of the empire. Emperor Rufus Syrast probably truly believed that.

  It was a good thing the emperor had never bothered to ask why any of them fought. Then again, it wasn’t like the emperor would ever have the courage to ask such questions. Or the mind.

  Tyus. Your father had better die soon so we can bring some sanity to this land.

  CHAPTER 2: ZELDA

  The soft, melodic, sweet chirping of pigeons awoke Zelda from yet another night of restful slumber. She stretched her arms out, curled her fingers and toes, let out a long, pleasant breath of air, and sat up.

  She had fallen asleep on top of an abandoned home on the west side of Caia, about a five minute stroll from the library and the base of the Shadows of the Empire. The group had offered her residence underneath the city in a labyrinth of tunnels, small rooms, and closets, but even with a bed and a room, she preferred to sleep outside. Only in this manner could she see the sun peek over the horizon every day, climbing over the distant lands, reflecting off of the sea to the north.

  Mama, she thought every morning. You would love this. We used our magic for good. We’ve been rewarded.

  There was a time when thinking of Mama would have only produced tears. But in the month since the defeat of Indica and the salvation of the city, thinking about her mother brought a smile to Zelda at all hours of the day. The empire and its citizens had stopped prosecuting magi. It had even agreed to honor the magi in public before the palace, although Zelda disliked the idea of parading them before the very people who had once tried to pulverize them.

  The magi hadn’t quite acquiesced to the idea of roaming out in the open. They certainly hadn’t tried to use magic, for it only took a single rogue citizen to break the tense truce. Even Zelda kept a permanent awareness of her surroundings, though she attributed that to her homeless, poor upbringing than her condition as a mage.

  But compared to where they were a month ago, the magi had practically turned Caia into a Dabira with normal humans.

  She sat on the edge of the rooftop, aware that a guard or a citizen might spot her feet dangling over the edge. But for the next hour, she didn’t care. She knew, if the worst happened, she could defend herself. She knew the quickest, safest route to the Shadows of the Empire. She just wanted to appreciate what she had fought for. What Mama told me to fight for.

  Pink adorned the clouds in the sky as the sun emerged. The water seemed to glow gold. The birds chirping didn’t stop. Only the movement of citizens within the town drowned out the birds, but Zelda didn’t mind. Not when Caia had transformed from a war zone into a peaceful, free home.

  She glanced slightly to the right, looking at the imperial palace. She wondered if the emperor, the man who so angrily sought their destruction, had found as much peace as she had. She wondered if the dragon hunters she’d seen the night they defeated Indica had found contentment.

  Perhaps most of all, she wondered if Kara, the leader of the Shadows of the Empire, had found it in her heart to forgive the emperor and move forward.

  She got what she wanted. We got what we wanted. I hope that’s enough.

  For at least a month, it was more than enough.

  After an hour, Zelda grabbed some coins she had found littered in the streets after that fateful night and headed to the marketplace. She still wore her hood over her face and still wore the dusty brown robes from before, but now she wore them with pride, not shame. They marked her as a mage, not as a homeless rat. She went up to a meat vendor and smiled.

  “Yes,” the man said.

  His voice gave away that he was suppressing some aggravation. Surely, Zelda thought, he remembered her as the one who had stolen food from him the day her mother died. But now, she hoped he would remember her for a different reason.

  “I’d like to buy some of your pork, please,” Zelda said.

  “Two bronze pieces for half a pound,” the man said, trying to remain polite but curt at once.

  Zelda threw out two bronze pieces, and then added a silver piece. The man looked at her confused. He bordered toward annoyed, but Zelda’s smile disarmed him.

  “Do you really need that much meat?” the vendor asked.

  “No,” Zelda said. “But this is for before.”

  It dawned on the man. Zelda gave a short nod, and the man nodded back. He didn’t smile as much as Zelda had hoped, but she would take forgiveness. She hadn’t exactly hoped for friendship, anyways.

  “Thanks,” the man said.

  Zelda swore he smiled as she turned and walked away, but when she looked back one more time, he had engaged with a different set of customers.

  Still, she believe
d she had turned an enemy into something less poisonous. And if nothing else, it would aide the relations between magi and people just a bit more.

  * * *

  As Zelda made her way through the marketplace and toward the library, even with her pleasant encounter with the vendor, less pleasant sights filled her eyes and gave her great sorrow.

  Once-great houses lay in rubble on the streets. The homeless population had multiplied by a factor too large for anyone to want to guess. The air in Caia had become so filled with dust, and the stench of death had infiltrated the city streets so much, that it became dangerous to walk for too long on the formerly clean streets. Even the east side of Caia, home to the wealthy, the powerful, and those closest to the emperor, had suffered great damage.

  Zelda saw homeless magi and homeless humans alike, all sharing the bond of suffering because of what Indica had done. She wanted to give food to all of them. She wanted to shelter all of them. She wanted the emperor to emerge from his palace and see what troubles laid here.

  But she knew that even she had her limits. She could use her magic for good, but magic didn’t multiply food. It didn’t build houses out of thin air. And it most certainly did not change the minds of any man or woman, let alone the most emotional and cruel elder in the city.

  Someday, Zelda thought, she would help build this city back up. She would see to it that Caia rose from the rubble and became a thriving city free of civil war, free of persecution, and free of anti-magi speech.

  Maybe that day will come after the emperor speaks. I hope it comes then. The people will follow their leader.

  For now, though, she just let the feelings of sadness and guilt compel her to prepare for such a day.

  She came to the library and walked up the steps as she finished the last of her pork. She apologized to the three homeless people who begged her for food and change, telling them where the cheapest food was. She walked inside, glanced up at the mural of Bahamut, and kept going to the far back where she’d first run into Gaius.