Fiction logo

Dragon Hunters Chapter 5

Busca Zador and the candidate

By M AngelPublished 7 months ago 5 min read

There is no time, he thought to himself jostling about in the wagon as the old mare plodded along the path. He knew he would find the child eventually but only after the loss of precious time, and time was one of the few things that Busca Zador could not pull out from under his robes.

Why couldn’t they see? His mind -uncharacteristically undisciplined- continued to obsess about what could not be changed. They would always fear what they did not know and could never know, what they had no hope of understanding. No, HE must be the way, but time, once again was the enemy. He must find one suitable, worthy, and strong enough to continue the work of maintaining the balance. The balance that he, Busca Zador had forged from the flames of rebellion and the crucible of war. A balance that was hard won, for after the Valadian empire fell the lands were in chaos and only through him was the balance found and the peace restored. Now, his work was in peril. What would become of the lands of Duris when he was gone? The child, he must find the child. Everything depended on it.

Busca Zador urged the old mare onward. The wood shavings and ash he had taken from the child’s home and scattered in the five directions had pointed the way. A pale-yellow glow -difficult but not impossible to see against the colors of autumn leaves that decorated the ground- grew brighter as it fell on the north road, collecting on where the child’s initial footsteps fell. Every hundred meters or so he would sprinkle more shavings and ash, imbuing them with his energy so as to confirm that he was still tracking the child.

Where are you? The mind, once again rebelling against its training queried to no one, asking of the nothingness to give him something.

“You’ll never find me,” said a voice in his head.

“You are gifted indeed my child,” thought Busca Zador knowing that the child was listening and so reigning in his thoughts as he did the old mare.

“I can hear your thoughts and so I know exactly what and where you will look so…you’ll never find me.”

“You seem unsure my child,” he thought, daring the child to act rationally.

“I don’t need to be sure!” The voice in his head came loud enough to cause physical pain, but he had endured much louder and more painful.

“You won’t find me. I have been able to hear people’s thoughts since I was young, and I know when---”

“You are still young.”

“I’m almost eleven and you will---”

“Never find you. I know, you have said that already. But, how do you know?”

“How do I know what?”

“How do you know that I will never find you?” Busca Zador stepped down from the wagon, patting the old mare on the neck to calm her. “You have repeated yourself so many times it feels more like you are trying to convince yourself rather than tell me what you think you know.”

“I just know!”

“Why are you yelling my child?”

“I’m not yelling.”

“Your mind is.” Busca Zador stepped forward as quietly as he could manage on his ancient knees; he moved toward the massive oak just to the right of the path. He sprinkled more shavings and ash to confirm what his nose was already sure of. “You are becoming more and more uncertain of what you believe is true my child.”

“Wait, where are you?”

“Did you know that you were on the road to Naargas?” He took another step toward the tree, following the pale-yellow, glowing footprints. “We are at peace of course, but Naargasians do not take kindly to Raneesians crossing their borders uninvited.”

“Where did you---”

“Ah my child, I thought the game was to try and find you>”

“No, stop! I can’t---”

“Can’t what? Understand what just happened? I may not have your gift my child, but I have others.”

“What others?”

“That, is what I am trying to teach you my child, and the first lesson is, the moment you rely on only one of your gifts and not what your eyes, ears, nose, hands and tongue can tell you, you have already lost.”

“My eyes? My ears? My… what are you talking---”

“Sight, hearing, touch, taste and,” Busca Zador covered his nose and mouth, “what I am using right now. Now, come out from behind the tree. You need a bath.”


“Why me?” said the child.

It was a voice much like the one he had heard in his head. She had not yet learned how to disguise her minds voice, but he would teach her. “It may not be you.”

“I don’t understand. You came looking for me and you were going to kill---”

“I do not kill!” He had not intended to frighten the child, but the misunderstanding of his mission was a constant irritant. She shrank away from him, and he immediately felt the consequences of his lack of control. “I am sorry. I did not mean to be harsh with you.”

“So, you don’t kill people?”

“I have not killed in a very long time, and I work very hard to ensure that no one has to kill anyone ever again.”

“Ever again?”

“Ever again, my child.”



“If you are trying to make it so that no one ever has to kill anyone ever again then…”

“Go on child.”

“Won’t you have to kill all the bad people?”


About the Creator

M Angel

The voices speak, all we need do is listen.

The written word became very important to me at an early age. I have been trying to place them in the right order ever since. Dark and Urban Fantasy is where I currently play. Want to join me?

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights


There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.