Chapter Five Abel
If a celestial material from Noctu’s domain of magic is the only weapon that can destroy Diu’s curse, then I declare all meteorites property of the Slayers Guild.
Chapter Five
Abel
According to my map, we won’t see civilization again until we reach Ravinfort.
“Why Ravinfort?” Claire asks.
“Ravinfort is the slayer capital of Florent.”
“I know that. What do we need to do there?”
“Hunting requires extensive preparation.” I scratch Lucy’s ears to keep her from growing restless. “That includes weapons. My moonmetal smith, Lyle Meteku, has a shop there. I need a new long sword.”
“I assume you want me to pay for that sword?”
“Yes. Pay. The Metekus are the best outfitters in the kingdom and my second family. So you’d better not steal from them.”
She shrugs. “If you insist.”
“Good. But there’s another reason we’re going.”
“Do tell.”
“Ravinfort is home to the nearest branch of the slayer archives. I want to cross-check your tracking records against the dragon-sighting reports from the last six months.”
And muster the courage to finally submit my journal into the record, but that’s my problem, not hers.
“Excusez-moi, but my word is as good as gold,” she says, pouting.
“Your word has limits. The Slayers Guild, on the other hand, has maintained a thorough archive since the dawn of the curse. Each branch collects and disseminates copies of the latest information. It’s how slayers stay informed on active leads.
My goal is to determine whether the dragon that burned Sellecastel is even alive.
For all we know, it’s been slain already. ”
Claire turns her focus to the road.
“We may not learn much for a while,” I warn her. “Not knowing the dragon’s human identity significantly impairs our ability to track it.”
“Why? You said dragons are predictable.”
“Yes, but slayers need two sets of tracks to complete a hunt: animal and human. The animal set is easy to find. The Ignition always happens at dawn. When dragons transform, they attack indiscriminately and maintain that form until sunsdown,” I explain.
“That makes Ignition Day the easiest time to find a dragon. But the Ignition is a monthly solar event. What does that tell you?”
“Dragons spend most of their time in human form.”
“Right. Nightfall is when the human track starts. After they shift back, they start gathering resources to survive. Stolen clothes, food, and pleas for help are common leads, but it’s easy to lose the scent without a name.
Individuals have their own preferences, desires, and communities, which they will inevitably seek out.
Therefore, the human identity gives the most reliable tracking information. ”
“First rule of dragon hunting: Consider the bait,” Claire recites. “You track them through their support systems and personal vices?”
“Exactly.”
We continue over the hills for several hours.
The suns migrate into late afternoon. At the first sight of the Tordou River, we stop to water the horses and let Lucy relieve herself, then sit in the wild grass for a lunch of stale baguettes, grapes, and cheese.
I rub my saddle-sore leg muscles but stop when Claire calls me a baby for it.
I offer her my dried fawna venison—a delicacy that I hunted myself—just to shut her up.
She refuses it. Fawnas are too pretty to eat, apparently.
Back on the road, the first riverside cliffs are rising to our left when Claire speaks again.
“Could a dragon commit suicide to avoid capture?” she asks. “Provided they find a way to obtain a moonmetal weapon?”
“That’s a morbid question.”
“Hardly a new question, no? Imagine waking up knowing you’re responsible for countless deaths. You might want to die yourself.”
Empathy for dragons. That’s not what I expected from her.
“Dragons can’t die in human form,” I explain. “Diu’s magic heals them faster than they can bleed out. Dismembered appendages regrow with no signs of bodily damage. Even beheadings fail to kill.”
“There’s not a single lethal strike you can make on the human form? How can you be sure?”
“Archive records. Plus I’ve done experiments on their healing powers myself.”
Claire frowns. “What kind of experiments?”
The corner of my journal digs into my spine. I shift my pack, to Lucy’s chagrin. Most people know I tried to cure my brother, but the gory details get stuck in my throat.
After Micah turned, I acted no better than the Immortals. The things I did to his human form weren’t experiments. They were torture. A control grab over Diu’s magic. Now I know better. The side of me that tried to play creator god must stay buried. It doesn’t belong in a moral society.
“Why do you care what I did? I thought you wanted revenge,” I say, deflecting the topic.
Claire leans back in her saddle as the road turns into a slope. It dips under a tangle of sparse tree branches. “I can want dragons gone and feel bad for them at the same time.”
It’s not as if I don’t understand. When Micah found out he killed our parents, it destroyed him. Being slain would’ve been a kindness compared to dreading the next Ignition, knowing he could kill me next.
It didn’t occur to me until he was already dead that he might feel that way.