One Good Dragon Deserves Another

by Rachel Aaron

  Marci jotted that down, looking up again when Amelia didn’t continue to find the dragon sitting back in her chair, drinking her rum in long, thoughtful sips.

  “Um, that’s only three,” she said nervously. “You said there were four classifications of spirit.”

  Amelia nodded. “I did.”

  “So what’s the last one?”

  The dragon’s smile turned cryptic. “You tell me,” she said with a tip of her bottle. “It goes against my nature to give away too much for free, and Julius spoke so highly of you.”

  Marci began to sweat. “You want me to guess?”

  “It’s not hard,” Amelia said with a shrug. “Spirits occur anywhere the naturally welling magic flows into a definite shape: a lake, a wolf population, a slaughtered city. But there’s another force at work that moves and shapes magic all the time which we haven’t mentioned yet. What is it?”

  Marci bit her lip. Being put on the spot always made her nervous, but she didn’t think Amelia was the sort who’d ask her a question she couldn’t answer. She just had to look at what she already knew and follow the clues. What force hadn’t they mentioned yet? What power could push and hold enough magic together to reach the critical mass necessary to gain sentience and—

  “Humans,” she blurted out. “We move magic. That’s the final kind of spirit.”

  Amelia’s face split into a wide grin. “I knew you were a clever monkey,” she said. “You’re right. The final classification of spirits are what used to be called Mortal Spirits, the magic that gathers in the dips and scars left in magical landscape by mankind.”

  “Is that what Ghost is?” Marci asked, too excited to even write this down. “But how? He doesn’t look human.”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Amelia said. “Haven’t you ever wondered why there’s a spirit of wolves, but not a spirit of humans?”

  Marci nodded. “People have been looking for our Animal Spirit pretty much since we knew they were a thing, but we’ve never found one. The articles I read on the subject theorized that humanity was simply too divided to have a single spirit that represented us as a whole.”

  “That’s actually not too far off,” Amelia said, looking impressed despite herself. “The factor you’re missing, though, is that the human animal is unique. There are thousands of magical species that burst back into the ecosystem in the years after the meteor hit, but of all those plants and animals and insects and fish and whatnot, humans are the only ones who have the ability to actually manipulate magic. All of you, even non-mages, are capable of leaving eddies in the magical landscape, and when you get enough of those eddies all working together, you create ruts for magic to fill.”

  Marci added that to her notes. “What kind of ruts?”

  Amelia shrugged. “Whatever you believe in. The more importance humans collectively give to something, the deeper a mark it leaves in your collective magical landscape. Take death, for instance. All mortals fear dying to the point where they will do nearly anything to avoid its inevitable grasp. That sort of universal preoccupation has weight, it leaves a very deep chasm indeed.”

  “Hold up,” Marci said, eyes going wide. “You’re saying Mortal Spirits are concepts?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Amelia said. “There are over nine billion humans on the planet right now. Every one of those nine billion, mage or not, has the ability to alter the magical landscape around them. Individually, of course, those changes are minute, but the more humans as a whole care about something—a belief, a fear, an ideology, whatever you want to call it—the bigger a space they carve out for it in their lives. Each one of these hollows creates a place for magic to pool, and where magic pools, spirits are born.” The dragon smiled. “As you might imagine, the combined weight of humanity’s concerns made for some very large spirits indeed. Many Mortal Spirits were worshiped as gods before the magic vanished, just to give you an idea of the scale we’re talking about.”

  “And you think Ghost is one of these?” Marci said, looking down at her cat, who was still sound asleep at the bottom of her bag. “I’m sorry, but I’m having trouble buying this. If Mortal Spirits are as big as you say, why haven’t we seen any? Why isn’t the Grim Reaper riding through war zones taking heads right now?”

  “Because there hasn’t been enough time, yet,” Amelia said. “Magic’s only been pouring back into the world for six decades. That’s enough to fill the shallow vessels—the lakes and mountains and animals—but Mortal Spirits are as large as human ideas. The impressions you gouge into the Earth’s magical landscape have gone from the weight of millions to the weight of billions since the last time magic was here to fill them. Add in the advent of world-wide media and mass communication, and the ruts of humanity’s shared beliefs and values have become so deep and so vast, modern magic simply hasn’t had time yet to fill them. The water is running, but the bucket is just too big. Make sense?”

  It did, but Marci still didn’t understand what this had to do with Ghost. “But,” she said, feeling slightly foolish. “If that’s true, how is Ghost here?”

  “Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” Amelia said, sitting up with a grin. “Mortal Spirits have always been a particular fascination of mine. I wasn’t actually planning on returning to this plane for at least another fifty years since that was the earliest my calculations suggested a Mortal Spirit could appear. Imagine my surprise, then, when I come back to do a favor for my brother and find not just a Mortal Spirit, but one that’s already stably bound to a mage. Do you even know how amazing that is?”

  “I’m starting to get an idea,” Marci said, clutching her bag where Ghost was sleeping even tighter. “So, is he premature or something? Is that why he’s so small?”

  “That’s a good theory,” Amelia said. “Honestly, though, I have no idea. He’s a mystery!” She beamed with excitement. “Now do you see why I wanted to talk to you so badly?”

  Marci did, but the more she thought about all of this, the more what Ghost had said in the alley bothered her. “You said Mortal Spirits are created by collective human ideas, like death. That means they’re not all good?”

  “Good is relative,” Amelia said dismissively. “But being doomed to die makes humans a fairly pessimistic species, so I suppose most Mortal Spirits could be classified as unpleasant, yes.”

  Considering her cat seemed to feed off death and was cold as the grave, Marci wasn’t feeling optimistic about her chances. “Is there a way to identify them, then?” she asked. “I asked Ghost what he was straight-out yesterday, but he claimed he didn’t know his name. He said he couldn’t remember unless I fed him power.”

  “He probably can’t,” the dragon said, squinting at Marci’s bag. “Poor little thing’s barely more than a flicker. If he wasn’t anchored to you, I doubt he could even hold himself together. It’s no wonder he doesn’t know his name.”

  “So he was telling the truth,” Marci said, relieved. “I was a little worried he was just playing me for more power.”

  “He was probably doing both,” Amelia said. “Like I said, all spirits are self-aware magic, but how self-aware depends on how much power they have access to. Given how low yours is running, it’s completely possible he doesn’t even know what he’s a spirit of.”

  “So what happens if I do feed him magic, then?”

  The dragon frowned thoughtfully. “Difficult to say. Without knowing what type of Mortal Spirit we’re talking about, it’s impossible to predict how he’ll react once he gets above the threshold for true self-awareness. But that’s a question for later. All you need to understand right now is that your spirit could potentially be a Very Big Deal. Equally important, though, is the fact that he allowed you to bind him.”

  Marci nodded. “You said something like that before. Why is the binding part so important?”

  “It’s the choice that’s important, not the binding,” Amelia said. “Mortal Spirits are the magical creations of humanity’s fears and b
eliefs and so on. As such, they tend to be really into whatever aspect of your kind they represent. Depending on what they’re a spirit of, this obsessive focus can make them critically unstable. So, to prevent a collapse, most Mortal Spirits are drawn to mages whose strengths help to balance them out.” She frowned. “Or, at least, that’s how it used to work before the magic vanished. Since we don’t know what kind of spirit we’re dealing with yet, I don’t know if that’s why Ghost picked you specifically, but however it came to be, binding him was a pro move on your part.”

  “How so?” Marci asked.

  “Because by tying your magic to his, you’ve now effectively plugged into the domain of Mortal Spirits, which is basically all human magic,” Amelia explained, her eyes flashing. “That’s big, Marci. Way too big to risk losing to an obsessed idiot like Vann Jeger, or a fool like Julius.”

  Marci jerked back. “What?”

  “Oh, come on,” Amelia said, rolling her eyes. “He’s a sweet kid, but you have to know by now that your baby dragon isn’t exactly a power player. You’re a mage with a Mortal Spirit, possibly the very first Mortal Spirit to re-emerge. I don’t know how or why Ghost happened, but your connection to him puts you decades ahead of the curve.” The dragon flashed her a knowing smile. “You are a very valuable commodity, Marci Novalli, and you deserve better than some random kid at the bottom of Heartstriker. You need better. You need me.”

  It took Marci a few seconds to be sure she’d heard that right. “Are you trying to recruit me?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” she said. “Did you not understand what I just told you? You are a prime asset. I’m just happy I decided to drop by Julius’s and found you before Vann Jeger ruined everything.”

  She said this casually, like she was just pointing out the obvious, but Marci could already see the writing on the wall. “That’s the deal, isn’t it?” she said, staring the dragon down. “That’s why you wanted to get me alone. You’ll save us from Vann Jeger, but only if I join you.”

  “You make it sound like a bad thing,” Amelia said, pouting. “Surely you’ve grasped by now just how much a real alliance with a proper dragon would benefit you? Or did you think I spent the last thirty minutes telling you the secrets of magic out of the goodness of my heart?”

  Marci had. Or, rather, she’d been too excited about what she was hearing to worry about the cost, and from the smug look on her face, Amelia knew it.

  “The first hit is free,” she cooed. “But there’s so much more. I was born only a century after Bethesda herself. That makes me a contemporary of many of the mages you now think of as legends.” She pointed up the coast toward the main body of the island. “You can’t see it through the trees, but I have a tower on the northern coast with a library full of their writings. Books, scrolls, letters explaining the highest workings of magic, I have it all. That’s my treasure. While other dragons hoarded gold and weapons and the various other material trappings of power, I hoarded knowledge, which we both know is far more valuable. It’s all still there, too. Even while I was away on the outer planes, my protections kept it safe all this time. You think what I just told you was amazing? That’s nothing. Child’s play. My collection of magical texts was the envy of the world even before the new generations of mortal idiots became terrified by the idea of magic and started burning the treasures of their past. Now, it can be yours as well. Yours specifically, Marci Novalli, and all you have to do is promise your life to me.”

  By the time she finished, Marci’s heart was hammering. “What do you mean, ‘promise my life’?”

  “It means you would be my human,” Amelia explained. “I understand if you have some confusion with the concept given the ridiculous way Julius treats you, but I promise you’d enjoy it. Unlike some dragons, I treat my mortals like treasures. You’d live here with me in this paradise, and I’d give you the best of everything. One month in my library would be enough to make you the greatest mage alive. The knowledge you’ll emerge with will make the last sixty-years of magical theory look like the dark ages, and that’s only the beginning. Once we get your Mortal Spirit up to speed, the full potential of human magic will be within our reach once again.”

  “Our reach?” Marci said, confused. “But you’re a dragon. What do you care about human magic?”

  “I care because this is your world,” Amelia said, rising to her feet. “Dragons are just interlopers on this plane, but you were born to master it. There are places here that only you can go, things you can do that no spirit or dragon can touch. I want to see that. Like you, I want to know, but, being a dragon, I can’t do it on my own. You and your spirit are the chance I’ve been waiting on for ten centuries. Ally with me, and I’ll give you everything you could ever want: power, knowledge, safety, comfort, fame, wealth. Also, and I only bring this up because apparently it needs to be repeated, you won’t die tonight. Unlike some, I can keep my humans safe from dragon hunters.”

  “But not Julius’s,” Marci finished for her.

  Amelia lifted her shoulders in an elegant shrug. “Now you see the benefit of having a proper master. Really, though, I don’t understand why you’re hesitating. I’m offering you everything a woman in your position could possibly want. But maybe I read you wrong? Maybe you’re not someone who cares about reclaiming your race’s lost knowledge?”

  Marci swallowed. That wasn’t true at all. Amelia couldn’t have baited her hook better if she’d tried. Even now, the urge to run into the jungle to find that library and start digging through it was making her twitchy. The dragon’s words had rekindled childhood dreams. With Amelia’s help, Marci could become an archmage in the classic sense. Someone who wielded the true power of magic, not just an academician who wrote theoretical papers for peer review. She could reclaim the glory of the old mages for herself. No more scrabbling in the dirt or being looked down on by more powerful creatures, because she would be one of them, an equal at last. But amazing as all of that was, the way Amelia offered it bothered her.

  “It’s very tempting,” she admitted. “But…you make it sound like I’d be your slave.”

  “Treasure,” Amelia corrected. “You’d be my treasure. Big difference.”

  “But still a possession.”

  “Well, what else could you be?” the dragon said, scowling. “I take care of you. That makes you mine. But I’m not a harsh master. Cruelty is a waste of time and resources. I want you happy, eager, and productive. I would, of course, require you to breed once in a while to help me rebuild my population, but I’d only pick the strongest, most handsome specimens for you to partner with, so it’s not like it’d be a hardship. Plus, you’d be my first, which means you and your children would have rank over all the other mages I’ll be bringing in. You’d pretty much be a queen, answerable only to me. Tell me that’s not a great deal.”

  She finished with a show-stopping smile, but Marci could only stare. Even now, part of her still wanted to take it, to seize the power Amelia offered. And that was the problem, because it wouldn’t be power at all. She’d be a possession, and hungry as Marci was for the knowledge Amelia dangled in front of her, she didn’t know if she could live like that. Then again, if she didn’t take Amelia’s offer, she probably wouldn’t live past tonight, period. At best, she’d be under Vann Jeger and Algonquin’s thumb for the rest of her life, the human they’d “rescued” from the dragon. Next to that, being queen of Amelia’s slaves actually sounded like a pretty good deal, but there was one issue they hadn’t touched on yet.

  “If I agreed,” Marci said cautiously. “Could I still see Julius?”

  “I don’t think you’d have the time,” Amelia said. “And weak as he is, he’s still a dragon, which is a problem.” Her smile turned pointed. “We don’t share.”

  Marci sighed. “Then I can’t do it.”

  Amelia’s smile faded. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t have heard that right. There is no way a smart woman like yourself would possibly turn down infinite power fo
r a boy.”

  “That’s because I’m not turning it down for a boy,” Marci said, glaring. “I’m turning it down for a friend. You claim you’re offering me power, but not being allowed to stand by a friend when he needs you sounds a lot like being powerless to me, and I don’t do that.”

  As she spoke, Amelia’s friendly expression fell away until, by the end, she looked every bit as haughty and dreadful as her mother. “Aren’t you forgetting something, mortal?” she growled. “I am your only hope. If I don’t defeat Vann Jeger, you and your friend will die. Is that how you show your loyalty to your dragon? Condemning him to death?”

  “Julius isn’t my dragon,” Marci said, pulling herself straight. “He’s my partner, and he would never want me to be become a slave for his sake.”

  “I keep telling you,” Amelia snapped. “You’re not a slave. You’re a treasure.”

  “Same difference,” Marci said proudly. “But I’m not any of those things. I’m a person. Just because mortal lives are short doesn’t mean they’re cheap, or that they aren’t our own. If you can’t see that, then you’re no better than Bethesda.”

  That insult must have hit harder than she’d intended, because Amelia recoiled like she’d been struck. “I am nothing like her!”

  “Then prove it,” Marci said, seizing the opportunity with both hands. “Kill Vann Jeger and save us anyway. Once I’m free, I’ll come work for you of my own accord. I’ll gladly share everything I learn, anything you want, but I will not be a possession, treasured or otherwise, and I will not turn my back on the one dragon who actually treats me like an equal.”

  “Arrogant mortal,” Amelia snarled. “Normally, I like that, but you go too far. You claim friendship with a dragon, but when you go back to your precious Julius empty-handed, you’ll see he’s no different than the rest of us. He can’t save you. He can’t even save himself. I am holding every card. You have nothing to bargain with.”