by Martha Carr
With a smirk, she sank into a crouch in front of her dragon and held his gaze. “You were already too good at knowing what I’m thinking. Once we master this whole mind-connection thing, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep anything from you.”
“Why would you want to?”
“That’s a good point.” Raven tilted her head and ran her gaze over the long line of his neck, over the ridges of his back, and across the powerful wings tucked tightly against his sides. “Do you need anything before I head off to bed?”
“No.”
“Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”
As she started to stand, Leander raised his snout toward her hand again for another quick pat along his scaly muzzle. When she lowered her hand again, he settled into his usual sleeping position—curled into a tight ball of red scales and translucent wings—and the young mage headed toward the open gate. She paused and looked over her shoulder for one more glance at him, but his eyes were already closed.
It doesn’t matter what he says. He’s as happy with what we accomplished today as I am.
She slipped quietly out of the pen and shut the gate behind her with a soft click.
When Raven stepped inside her room in the girls’ dormitory, Elizabeth sat cross-legged on her own bed, her head lowered over the book in her lap. The girl’s long curtain of black hair almost completely obscured her face. “Long day, war mage?”
“Very funny.” She shut the door behind her and sighed when the low chatter from the other girls on the third floor vanished completely beneath the sound-proof spell. “You know, you have an uncanny ability to know what’s going on around you without looking up from your books.”
Her roommate shrugged. “It’s a skill highly developed over years of trying to maintain my personal bubble in a house with five siblings running around. It comes in handy when people think you’re more focused on reading than listening to conversations.” A slow, knowing smile spread across the girl’s lips. “I have dirt on them to last a lifetime.”
“Ha!” Raven headed toward her bed on the far side of the room and bent to untie the laces of her work boots before she kicked them off. “I didn’t know you had so many siblings.”
“Yep. And I’m the youngest.” Elizabeth snorted. “Brett’s twenty. He was the last one to move out before I came here. For a brief summer, I got new clothes and all my parents’ attention.”
“It sounds nice, actually.”
“Not when they’re planting six kids’ worth of parenting onto only one.” The girl closed the book, tossed it onto the comforter beside her, and pulled a few strawberries out of the nightstand drawer to feed to her bat familiar. Iggy poked his head up from where he’d been snuggled in her lap and nibbled at the fruit. “I can say I enjoy having my own clothes far better than hand-me-downs.”
Raven sat on the edge of her bed and froze. “Well now I feel really bad about ripping up that dress you let me borrow.”
Her friend chuckled and continued to feed her bat. “It’s an easy fix. Trust me. My mom went from mending clothes for four boys and two girls to sitting around all day in an empty house. At least, that’s the way she talks about it. I sent that dress home, and she sent me this gushing letter about how thrilled she was that someone actually needed her.”
“Did you tell her what happened to it?”
“Nope. And she didn’t even ask.” Elizabeth tossed her dark bangs out of her face but they fell into place over her right eye as they always did. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked her to fix it. That thing might be worth a ton of money someday. You know, worn by Fowler Academy’s first-year war mage who destroyed the rest of the Swarm with her dragon.”
She laughed and went to her dresser to pull out her pajamas. “Bella and Wesley were there too. I couldn’t have done it without them. And if you can make money off a dress I sliced with a knife, go for it.”
They both laughed at that, and she returned to the bed to toss her pajamas onto the comforter before she undid the tie in her red braid.
“Hey, speaking of letters, are you staying in the dorms through the rest of the year?”
Raven paused and wrinkled her nose. “What does that have to do with letters?”
“Well…you finally heard from your grandpa.”
“Oh.” Running her fingers through her hair, the war mage in training sat on her bed again and shrugged. “I got a letter from him, yeah. But I don’t think he’s coming back anytime soon. He only talked about staying where he is and continuing with his research.”
“Where is he?”
“I honestly have no idea.” She changed quickly into her pajamas as she spoke. “His letter came from Havendom and that’s where Headmaster Flynn sent the letter I wrote in reply. But Connor Alby could be anywhere in the kingdom right now, and I really don’t have a better way to find out where that is.”
“It must be frustrating.”
“A little. But it’s definitely better than not hearing from him for weeks after he disappeared like that.”
“Boy.” Elizabeth flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling with a dreamy sigh. “I would love to simply up and leave whenever I wanted, not tell anyone where I’m going, and only send a few letters with vague hints. That’s like…the perfect escape.”
Raven laughed and pulled her legs onto the bed to cross them beneath her. “I don’t think my grandpa was trying to escape anything. But I see how that’d be a big selling point for you. Elizabeth Kinsley’s private getaway. No people, no talking, and endless books.”
The dark-haired witch snorted. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
“It’s not like you try to hide it. And for some reason, you still like me.”
“Yeah, you’re all right.”
The room fell silent, and her thoughts drifted to the one and only letter she’d received from Connor. He thinks magic’s coming back and has no way to prove it other than the fact that he has his own magic again. But if he’s right…
She shifted onto her stomach and stretched over the edge of the bed to pull her grandfather’s oilskin bag from under it. The crystal ball was tucked away in one of the loose corners, but she finally found it and drew the apple-sized orb out for a quick look. It’s all white again. So for now, at least, there is no danger coming.
The glass ball thumped into the bag again and she scooted across her bed and folded her arms to rest her chin on her hands and think. His letter didn’t sound panicked, either. Only curious and concerned. At least I have a little more proof that nothing awful’s coming.
Raven pushed off her stomach and began to pull the comforter down to slip beneath it.
“Are you goin’ to bed?”
“Yeah.” She turned on her side and smiled as her head sank into the pillow as she closed her eyes. “Like you said. Long day.”
“Totally.” Elizabeth scooted Iggy aside so she could crawl under her covers too. The bat squeaked and hopped after her before it curled into a ball beside her neck. She stretched her hand toward the orb of light in the middle of the ceiling and muttered, “Circum inlustro.”
Even with the light out now, Raven couldn’t help but look at the window centered between the beds and the moon rising in the new darkness.
Wherever you really are, Grandpa, I love you more.
In the small town of Heatherwood half a day’s ride northeast of Brighton, Jeremy Cathrop walked out onto his front porch and lifted his lantern. The yellow glow only illuminated a small section of the grass beyond his porch, and he shuffled down the steps as he grumbled under his breath.
“These damn sheep. Every night, they find something else to go on about. I’m sick of it.”
He reached the pen where his flock had settled for the night. The sheep now bleated uncontrollably and jostled one another as they pushed and crowded together along the fence.
“Why aren’t you sleeping, eh? I’m already a grumpy old man. I don’t need a flock of wooly animals adding to this—hey!”
A sharp cackle rose from the other side of the pen, followed by the terrified bleating of a lamb held tightly in an elf’s spindly arms.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Jeremy darted around the pen and the intruder scuttled in the same direction. He dragged the lamb with him because the poor animal was too big to slip through the fence while it struggled. “Drop the lamb, you scrawny little vermin!”
“Make me!” The elf hissed a challenge and tightened his hold around the lamb’s middle, which made the creature bleat again in sharp little bursts.
“Yeah, you’re one of the stupid ones, aren’t ya?” The shepherd leapt around the pen again, and the elf ran out of room and tugged his prey with him against the wall of the shelter. “You’re in trouble now, you little—”
A rumble like heavy thunder rose directly overhead. The two antagonists looked up seconds before a gust of wind blasted against the sheep pen. It threw Jeremy forward against the rails of the fence, and he shouted in his struggle to maintain his hold on the lantern. Despite his efforts the tiny flame inside was snuffed out instantly. The elf squawked, tumbled sideways, and released the startled lamb, who dropped to the straw with a muted thump.
Another gust of wind buffeted the shepherd’s back and pinned him against the fence. “What the—”
With the lantern out, the moon provided sufficient light to see the confused sheep—now startled into silence—and the intruder seated in the grass. The two adversaries looked skyward as another thunderous rumble accompanied a massive black shadow that passed across the moon and blocked out every trace of light in the sky.
Jeremy gulped. The elf squeaked and scrambled to his feet before he sprinted away from the pen and the sheep farm.
Miles away to the east, a grating shriek rose from the Mountains of Jared. The shepherd jumped at the sound, despite the distance, and shivered.
The black shadow vanished from overhead and gave way to the moon and stars once more. He waited and listened intently as his heart pounded in his chest. Move, you old bastard. Get inside!
That spurred him into action and he pushed away from the fence. The lantern fell forgotten from his hand and shattered. He staggered over the grass and yelped when his boot kicked an empty pail beside the pen. By the time he made it up the porch steps, he could barely breathe and his arms flailed in front of him to ward off what he couldn’t see. He’d forgotten there was nothing on the porch at all but finally reached the door and jiggled the handle with a shaking hand before he finally shoved it open and stumbled into the farmhouse.
His hands still trembled half an hour later. I never heard anything like that before. And that wasn’t a storm passing through. I’d set my life on it.
Jeremy slapped a hand against his forehead and grunted. “Don’t tempt fate, man. Keep that out of your thoughts.”
Although he tried to reassure himself with positive thinking, he didn’t get any sleep that night. He was too busy listening for the monstrous scream coming from the mountains.
Chapter Three
The next day marked the end of classes for the week, and more than anything, Raven looked forward to two days of only having to focus on war mage training with Alessandra and spending the rest of her time with her dragon.
Before she got there, she had to sit through one final day of classes. Professor Bixby’s History of Magic class didn’t exactly help with the young mage’s jitters.
“Today, we’ll talk about the finer points of being a mage and your ability to tap into and use your own magic for various purposes.” The vertically challenged professor stood on the platform behind her podium at the front of the room and peered at them from behind the thick lenses magnifying her eyes. “Mainly, we’ll discuss that the ability to use magic at all is nothing short of a privilege which must be respected and appreciated above everything else. Because, of course, any mage can run out of the limited supply of magic stored within them from birth.”
Raven straightened a little in her chair. Maybe not.
“Now for the history side of this topic, which is in fact where my specialty lies,” Bixby continued. “Centuries ago, magic used to be readily available to every Tina, Dan, and Henry.”
A few snickers rose at that as the students turned to look at Henry Derks. Grinning, he pointed at his chest with both thumbs and whispered, “Now it’s only this Henry.”
The young mage smirked at him and rolled her eyes.
“Yes, yes, Mr. Derks. We all know you share a name with a common saying. How lucky for you. As I was saying.” Bixby cleared her throat with a high-pitched grumble and continued. “Magic was so prevalent in these long-ago times that it was used for all manner of things—anything and everything in daily life, from household tasks to farm and ranch chores to sewing fancy clothes. Magic was cast willy-nilly all over the place, without any form of consequence to the caster. And, of course, this was long before those of us with magic today were ever called witches or wizards. It was well before the term ‘mage’ was used to describe a person with a passing mastery of their own skills with magic itself.
“No one can really say for certain exactly why magic diminished over the years to now only appear in strong magical bloodlines while the rest of the world was cut off from using it altogether. But there are a few theories.”
The professor lifted her wand above the podium and muttered, “Illustrare fabulam.”
A blue circle of light appeared in the air beside her and grew to the size of a window as smoke-like images appeared inside it to illustrate her talking points.
“First is the more widely recognized theory, one accepted the most frequently among non-magical people within Lomberdoon and beyond. Perhaps this seems the best way for most minds who have never felt magic to put reason and logic to its disappearance. Or perhaps they don’t much care.” A small chuckle escaped the woman, but whatever private joke she shared with herself went completely over her students’ heads.
“Most people believe or rationalize that magic is a natural resource of our world like water, timber, gems and minerals, good soil, etcetera. The view is that magic has been used to the extent that there is now only enough to fill the veins of a very select few among us in relation to the total population. Not everyone has magic, as I’m sure you all know. This makes witches and wizards very much the minority.”
“But what decides who gets magic and who doesn’t?”
“Ah, yes. That leads right into the second theory, Miss Barnaby. Thank you.” Bixby pointed her wand at the girl seated in the second row from the front, her lynx nestled in her lap with her face peeking out over the top of the desk. “Of course, this first theory raises many of the same questions as the one posed to us by Miss Barnaby. And this is where the theory of magical bloodlines comes into play.”
At the mention of magical bloodlines, Raven couldn’t help herself. She turned to look at Bella Chase seated a few seats down in the row in front of her. Bella did the same, caught the redheaded mage’s gaze, and raised an eyebrow.
Great minds, I guess.
“Illustrare fabulam,” Bixby muttered again. This time, a yellow circle of light bloomed from the tip of her wand and grew in the air beside her exactly like the first. The blue circle shrank and moved farther toward the wall to make room. “This theory of magical bloodlines proposes that when magic became aware of its own dwindling supply—thanks to the millions of people who had used it for centuries to whatever end they wished—magic itself selected the strongest families with the most inherent magical potential. This is where it funneled itself while the rest of the world lost their ability to so much as conjure a spark. Now, keep in mind, this did not happen overnight. Most historians agree that the process took somewhere between one hundred and fifty and two hundred years to fully weed out those who would never use magic again from those who would continue to pass it on to their progeny through generations to come.”
In the back row, Percy folded his arms and smirked. “It’s merely survival of the magicalest.”
> “Most magical, Mr. Alderman.” The professor focused on him over the thick frames of her glasses and her frizzy copper hair bounced when she cocked her head. “But yes. The most magical families, if you will, have been selected to keep their magical bloodlines alive and perpetuated into the future.”
“That’s like luck of the draw too, isn’t it?” Bella asked. “We’re not destined for magic. It’s all about who your family is and whether or not they have a number of witches and wizards.”
“Yes, Miss Chase. That is what this theory of magical bloodlines supports. Finally, there’s the third theory. And if you’re trying to find something to support the idea of destiny, I believe this would be it.” The professor cast her spell a third time and a red circle of light expanded in the air. “This theory about the selective existence of magic currently is that magic—as an entity all its own and with something of a sentient view into all timelines—chose to remove itself from the world. Some imagine this was a direct result of too much magic being used by everyone for silly, inconsequential purposes. Or that it became the root cause of jealousy, greed, and petty indiscretions. This theory suggests that those families who retained their magical abilities were chosen on purpose and for a purpose—that each of you are fulfilling your destiny, laid out by magic itself, to become certified and honored mages once you graduate from this school.
“Now, if this were the case, none of us would be aware of what our true purpose is or what we are to do with this privilege so we do the best we can. And perhaps those who put stock in this third theory find some comfort in the belief that magic chose each and every one of us because of who we are and who we will become, perhaps even with the hope that some balance would be restored by magic no longer being accessible to everyone.”
“What theory do you believe?” Tessa asked.
Bixby gave the girl a small, tight-lipped smile. “Like politics, Miss Hambridge, I prefer not to discuss that in public.”
“Professor?” Raven raised her hand, and the woman actually looked surprised to see any student pose a question in that way.