3 • LARICE

“ONE HOUR, ONE HUNT!” The voice of Grand Hunter Arien thundered across the iron gates of Shavath Fortress. “Starting today, those who’ll come back empty-handed will take a sprint around the entire walls a hundred set!”

At the sound of the Fort Bell, the dragon hunters hasted like a wild stream of current, rushing and spreading out of the fortress gates while heading towards the vast forest of Shajara. 

All of them dispersed—all but Larice Whitewind. She would never go where people would go. Instead, she sneaked her way inside the gatehouse after she spied Grand Hunter Arien, leaving the path empty for her.  

The cool morning wind brushed cold on her skin and garments, all soaked up in her sweat. Larice had to avoid the sandstone road as the patrolling guards might take notice of her skipping the dawn hunting routine. So she took the column of Foxglove Trees to hide and move and get past through the patrols.   

Fat, round towers stood high in all corners of the formidable curtain walls, with gigantic bolt-throwing machines lining up behind the crenellations. Shavath was the house of all dragon hunters—the Heroes of Drava—the title given to them by the Emperor after their victorious war against the dragons.

The fortress provided them expansive training grounds for melees, archery, and garrions. Several structures like Acadrim, Librad, Dormin, and Fortresi had served more than enough for sharpening the skills and talents of all hunters, preparing them to predate dragons out in the field.

Reaching the Acadrim, Larice sneaked past through more guards, hiding and moving behind the line of pillars at the side of the building. Then, when the path was clear, she made her way towards Librad, hoping it’s now empty of hunters. She had to find the key from what the young girl had mentioned earlier.

Librad looked like a two-story structure from the outside—but getting in, one could only find the ground floor. The fact that it rose that high was because of the towering bookshelves inside. White bricks and glass windows and oaken doors—Librad had its own uniqueness among the other structures in Shavath.

A warmer air, carrying the smoky and earthy scent of old books, greeted Larice as she entered through the double doors. Librad revealed no life inside. Only dust she spotted floating in the rays of the morning sunlight through the windows. Other than that, ancient-looking leather bounds there were—stored in a series of red oak shelves that almost touched the high ceiling.

Stepping further inside, Larice found the front desk empty, which would mean that the old hag had yet to arrive for her shift. Yesterday, she had stayed here so long that she didn’t realize she already skipped her class sessions. Erlind had to call the guards to take her out because of that.

Larice went furious. She’d been looking for books and historical records about dragons that were slain ten years ago during the attack in her village, but she never found any. And in the previous months, she only found books about dragon islands and their livelihood and culture and whatever—how could she care? Who in the world would care about what those beasts do with their lives? For sure, they had all lived for the same purpose—burning villages and killing innocent people … because that’s the only thing they’re capable of. Why couldn’t they just die, all of them?

They had no heart.

No soul.

Despite her growing doubt of ever finding any information about her village, there’s one more place where she had yet to search—Ardrad. It could be found behind the Persian-red door at the front desk, but only the highest-ranking hunters could enter it.

She had no certainty of what kinds of books the locked chamber had in store. However, she had a strong feeling that the clue, the information she had been looking for, was behind that red door.

As Larice found the area still empty, an idea poked in her head; she could try finding the key on the front desk before Erlind could arrive. That old hag would definitely blow up again, but Larice didn’t care. No one could ever stop her from getting what she wanted.  

Larice took a glance at the entrance to check first. No sense of life had been found. So she tiptoed around the front desk, holding the hilt of her rapier at the side of her belt. How stupid of her for committing such a punishable act, but she needed answers—answers from the questions that kept on haunting her every night. Now would be the perfect opportunity.

Larice made one more step before the Persian-red door, took a deep breath, and grasped the door lever. But when she pulled it down, she frowned.

It’s locked.

She turned around and searched for the key at the front desk; scrolls and pens and parchments scattered upon. She found no key, so she went to peek through the cabinets one by one. Her heart pounded against her chest. If she would get caught, she might get banned permanently from entering Librad. This could be the last chance she had to find clues to the truth she wanted … so she needed to be careful.

Minutes after searching the cabinets and the books and scrolls inside, Larice crouched and opened the drawers. The first one slid empty. Frowning, she pushed it back. But when she pulled the second drawer, it revealed a black leather-bound with a ruby gem, glimmering at the center of the front cover.

Larice quickly opened the book and flipped through the old and yellowed pages, giving out a musty, dusty odor that made her sneeze.

Her eyes spread wide open when she found a bronze key in the middle pages. This must be it. The bow was broken, she noticed, but it wouldn’t matter, anyway.

Larice took the key and spun around. She was about to thrust it through the lock hole when she heard footsteps coming behind the door.

She whispered a curse, digging the key into her pocket.

Just before the door opened, she managed to jump over the front desk, leaned with one elbow, and rested her chin on her palm, pretending she was waiting for someone.

An old man in his sixties came out—his tired, pale eyes hinted no sleep over last night. He carried a hard-bound book along with a few scrolls all tied in white threads.

His wrinkled face fell into a frown after seeing Larice.

“Mind telling me your business here, young lady?” he said, locking the red door, then putting the book and the scrolls on the desk.

“Um …” Larice pressed her other hand over the pocket where she hid the key. “I’m looking for Erlind.” She couldn’t think of anything else other than the old hag’s name.

“Erlind’s shift is not until an hour,” the old man said, then he raised a brow. “And shouldn’t you be in Shajara Forest with the hunters by now? You haven’t been informed about the new changes?”

Instead of saying no, she only shrugged and said, “I skipped.” She didn’t know there was another bookkeeper in Librad aside from Erlind.  

“You should be aware of the rules, young lady. Punishments for young hunters like you are not that decent …” He coughed, covering his mouth with his wrinkled fist.

“That is … only if I get caught,” Larice said.

“You can’t run away from the consequences forever, I tell you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replied. “I never belonged here in the first place, anyway.”

The old guy studied her with his pale eyes—a slight of interest, they hinted. “And why is that?” he asked while untying the threads in the scrolls one at a time.

A momentary silence lingered amidst the emptiness of Librad. Larice tried to think of safer ways to say it. A lot of reasons there were about why she had felt no belongingness here. But it would be too hard, too inappropriate if she would state it all. So she said, “Just … simply … you know … I can never do what people do here.”

“Such as?”

“Slay a dragon, of course! What else do all dragon hunters live up for?” Larice said, followed by a sigh. As the motto in Shavath would go—Slay the dragon!—the words which all dragon hunters had used countless times every day. It pissed her off most of the time. “I just … I just can’t do it.”

The old man shook his head as he started reading the scrolls. “Do you even know what Slay the Dragon means? If you don’t, then you go and find out first … before you come here to complain.”

Larice blinked a couple of times. What’s he talking about? Of course, she knew. That’s what everybody here had all been training for. All hunters dreamed of slaying those dragons and collecting their Dragonites to raise their ranks. But that’s not exactly what Larice Whitewind desired. She didn’t want to slay ‘any’ dragon. She wanted to slay ‘the’ dragon which razed her village and scorched her parents alive. But she knew she could never do it, knowing her fear and trauma would kill her first.

Only a clue of the truth would be enough, a clue about the dragon … or about any survivors … or about the motive behind it … That’s the only reason she joined the hunters in Shavath a few months ago.

Larice was about to turn and walk out when her eyes caught the book the old guy had brought to his desk. That one came from Ardrad inside, she noticed. She narrowed her eyes and found some years and dates at the top of each page.

“Can I ask,“ Larice said, “What kind of books are stored in Ardrad?”

The old man shifted his gaze from the book up to her. “Why would I tell it to someone like you?”

“I’m only asking,” she said. “I find it interesting to—“

“Your interests are out of my concern already.”

Larice had to inhale a big air before saying, “I need to find some information … it’s extremely important … and I believe it’s found inside.”

“Information?” he asked. “What kind?”

“I … I can’t tell you.” She looked down. If she would tell him she came from the country of Glacia, he would no doubt report it to the top ranks. They would send her back to Sunvar City, where the Dravalon Army had long been searching for her. She needed to stay away from that city as much as possible—otherwise, she might end up in prison, or worse, executed for that crime she had committed before she joined in Shavath.

“Listen, young lady, I’ve got no time for your concerns. Just tell Erlind when she arrives,” the old guy said—his eyes on the old pages. “She should be here in any minute now.”

Larice rubbed her neck out of frustration. She’d find much better chances in this old man than the old hag. “Look, I have searched the entire sections here in Librad for months but found nothing.”

“And you think what you’re looking for is behind this red door?” the keeper snorted with disbelief. “Even if it is here, only the Archon Hunters may enter the Ardrad. So come back and ask again after you reach such rank.”

Larice clawed her nails on the wooden desk. This old man’s crazy. He just said it as if it’s possible for her to collect over fifty Dragonites from fifty dragons to reach the Archon Rank.

She couldn’t help but slam both hands against the desk and said, “Please, I really need to know—“

“LARICE WHITEWIND.”

The sharp voice of Erlind struck the silent space of Librad. Larice grimaced, slowly turning to where the voice came from, only to find the forty-three-year-old, skeletal woman darting her eyes.

“Hello, Erlind.” She smiled nervously.

“What do you think are you doing?” she said, stepping through the double doors, both hands on her hips.

Before Larice could reply, the old man behind her spoke, “And now my shift ends.”

She turned and found him now fixing the books and scrolls on the desk. Then he stood up, picked up his bag, and went for Erlind. “You take care of that stubborn young lady,” he told her before making his way to the doors. “Have a nice day, Erlind.”

The old hag, however, didn’t take her fierce eyes away from Larice. “You’re skipping again? Have you lost your mind, young woman? Or is it that you only want to get expelled? Is that what you want? … And for heaven’s sake, that snake again?” She pointed at the rapier, locked on the side belt. “How many times do I have to tell you not to bring any weapons inside Librad?”

Larice responded with a tired look on her face. There was never a time where Erlind had not scolded her when she would come here every afternoon. The hate was obvious … but she hated the woman too. And she had to endure the spicy rants that kept on firing at her if she wanted to stay for a bit longer and find more clues.

“Oh, don’t give me that kind of look, young woman.” Erlind waggled her head. “Just wait until I report this to the Grand Hunters—“ Then she groaned in agony when the ring of the Fort Bell interrupted her from speaking.

“I’ve got classes. See you around, Erlind,” Larice said as she went past the old woman, heading for the doors.

“Don’t you think you can get away from this!”

“Old hag,” Larice muttered to herself. The situation became much harder for her. But one thing she knew for sure … no one could ever stop her from doing her plan. The after-dismissal of today’s sessions would be the time for her to sneak inside Ardrad.

Larice touched her pocket and rubbed the part where the bronze key was.

If they would not allow her in, then she would have no choice but to go in herself.