Pariah of Dragons

by Cordelia Castel

  “Hello, there,” said the short man. “Is everything all right?”

  “Did you hear? Asproceros stole some green dragonets this morning.”

  The fluffy-haired man bared his teeth. “I still owe that piece of orvoli dung a beating for cracking my skull from behind.”

  “This is Silkie,” said the short man. “He’s the one in charge of feeding the dragons.”

  I gave the taller male a nod of greeting. “A few of us are meeting up later to ambush Asproceros. Are you in?”

  Silkie’s nostrils flared. “Definitely. Can I bring a few mates?”

  I glanced from the longswordsman to the cadets. “If you can put together a gang, that would be great. We’re splitting up to guard different groups of dragonets.”

  “Is anyone guarding the blues?” asked Silkie.

  I shook my head.

  “We’ll watch over them. When?”

  “Every night until he’s caught,” I replied.

  Silkie gave me a nod. “I’ll be there with weapons.”

  After finishing my meal and arranging to meet the others later, I headed over to Fyrian’s stall. She sat on her haunches with her head high and forelegs straightened. The setting sun caught the horns around her head, making them shine like a crown of polished jade.

  “I’ve been speaking with Griseo.” She lowered her upper body to the ground, indicating for me to get onto her back. “He says the fastest way to form a connection is with skin-to-scale contact.”

  I climbed onto her forepaw. “Is that Captain Pristis’ dragon?”

  “Yes,” replied Fyrian. “He’s a lot more friendly than that miserable Caneo.”

  Using the horned ridges on her forelegs as a ladder, I clambered up to her shoulder. “That’s two silver dragons you like.”

  “Who’s the other?” she asked.

  “Fulmen.” I settled into the space between her wing bones. “Stafford’s getting close to him, you said.”

  “I suppose he’s all right. Besides, I never said I didn’t like silvers.”

  I glanced around the bare, sandstone cell. “What do I do now? Sit here with my eyes closed?”

  “Griseo said they leaned against each other’s bonds.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Leaned?”

  Her wing bones twitched into a shrug. “I suppose bonds between dragons and non-fairies are solid.”

  “That might be why General Thornicroft said my mind was like hollow cheese.”

  “All right. Close your eyes and let’s connect.”

  After shrugging off my flying jacket, I placed it on my lap and wrapped my arms around Fyrian’s neck. The scales under my skin radiated the heat of a hot spring. With a sigh, I relaxed into the embrace and closed my eyes.

  Darkness filled my vision, devoid of the usual faint sunlight streaming through my eyelids. My consciousness floated in what felt like a starless, cloudless night. This felt nothing like the meditation exercise I had practiced with Captain Pristis in my hospital room. Last night, I had been watching the darkness behind my eyes, but today, it felt like I was floating. I twisted around and glided through the air toward a pale, silver moon.

  “Fyri, are you there?”

  “Yes.” Her voice echoed through the dark. “But I can’t see you.”

  “Fly toward the moon. That’s where I’m headed.”

  “All right.”

  I continued higher, arms outstretched, propelled by my will to join Fyrian at the moon. Moments later, my fingertips touched the cool surface of what appeared to be a solid disc that shimmered like quicksilver.

  “Fyri, where are you?”

  “I’m at the moon, but it’s more like a bit of metal.”

  “Why does it look so different today?” I asked.

  “We usually connect deepest when we’re in trouble and don’t have time to notice the scenery of our bond. Sitting here in the comfort of my stall makes our connection slower, I suppose.”

  “That makes sense.” My fingertips sank into the disc, encasing them in the sensation of cool slime. “Something’s happening. Hold on.”

  “What are you doing?” her voice raised several octaves. “The moon is rippling at my end.”

  Casting my mind to a point beyond the moon, I pushed my fingers through the silver disc until they went through the other end.

  “A-are those your hands?” she asked.

  I glanced down at my arms, which were now wrist-deep in the quicksilver. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “Don’t come any further!”

  “Why?” I pulled my arms back, but the force of the silver liquid yanked me through to the other side. The world flip-flopped, making me tumble through what felt like the murkiest pond in the Known World. My breath caught in my throat. “I don’t think this is supposed to happen.”

  “I told you to stop!” she shrieked.

  My head spun somersaults, making me want to curl up into a ball and lie on the ground. “I-it was too late!”

  Eventually, the tumbling stopped, and I opened my eyes. Fyrian floated in front of me, her crimson eyes narrowed into slits.

  I exhaled a long breath of relief. “That wasn’t too bad.”

  “How will you get back?”

  Twisting around, I pointed at a spot behind me. “Through the—”

  “It’s gone,” she snapped.

  “Where?”

  “Look at yourself.”

  I glanced down at my hands. Instead of pale flesh, I was covered in silver scales. “W-what does that mean?”

  “It can’t be anything good.”

  “Can you ask Griseo?”

  Fyrian closed her eyes. A moment later, she opened them. “I asked him hypothetically what would happen if a rider pushed themselves through the moon. He said it wasn’t hypothetically possible and to stop bothering him with silly questions.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him what really happened?”

  “Because he would tell Roopal, who would tell Fosco, who would expel you for doing something unauthorized.”

  “Sorry. I forgot about the written warning. Is there someone else you can ask?”

  “Not Caneo,” said Fyrian. “He and Thornicroft probably know what this is, but he acts too important to speak to a young dragon. Maybe Hyacynth—”

  A hand landed on my bare forearm, giving me the kind of jolt I’d once gotten from a shocking-eel. The scenery disappeared, leaving me in the dark. “Cadet Bluford?”

  I opened my eyes to meet the turquoise gaze of King Magnar. “W-what are you doing in here?”

  “I’ve been calling you for a few minutes now.” His brows drew together. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” I pulled my arm out of his grip. “Is that all you did?”

  “What?”

  “Call out my name and touch my arm?”

  His cheeks reddened. “What are you accusing me of?”

  A flush heated my face. “Nothing. I-I was just checking. What do you want?”

  “I overheard some louts saying you were recruiting warriors to track a poacher. I would like to volunteer.”

  “Do you have your magic helmet?” My voice became breathy with excitement. A seven-foot-tall, armored oaf with a huge broadsword and an even larger temper would be handy in a fight against a full ogre.

  His brows rose. “Don’t you remember breaking it?”

  My shoulders slumped. “Oh yes, the duel you lost. Then the answer is no.”

  “Why not?”

  “You wouldn’t last ten seconds against Asproceros.”

  His spine stiffened into one of those regal postures that made me want to shove him down to the ground. Then he raised his chin in an even more aggravating posture and said, “I’m stronger than I look. Give me a chance to prove my worth?”

  I shook my head. “You can take a beating, I’ll give you that, but that ogre killed a dragon rider. It wouldn’t be safe for you.”

  “What if I brought Astri and Botilda?”

  A jolt of exc
itement made me straighten. I’d almost forgotten the pair were in Mount Fornax. They probably didn’t venture out because of the furor around Evolene’s escape from the magical militia. I beamed at King Magnar. He might be the worst monarch in the Known World, but his sisters were impressive.

  “They’d be brilliant,” I said. “All right, the three of you are our fifth team, and you’ll be watching the black dragonets.”

  His face fell. “I wanted to lend my strength to your team.”

  I pretended not to hear his overture of friendship. Every time I showed him an ounce of compassion, he would make it backfire. “The black dragonets are probably at the bottom of the mountain in one of those earth homes. You can always explain what you’re doing to a black dragon, and one of them will direct you.”

  He sagged. “Very well. I will inform my sisters.”

  After he left, I took a stair stone to the surface and walked over to the Healer’s Academy building to pick up Evolene. Two white discs hung on the door. I picked one up and placed it over my head. While it felt slightly warmer than the quicksilver moon, the tentacles slithering down my mouth and nostrils were far more unpleasant. Once the breathing parasol was in place, I pushed the door open.

  Green smoke billowed out from the laboratory. Stafford sat on a cot, watching Evolene milk a Boreal viper and pour its venom into a bubbling cauldron.

  “Did Stafford tell you about Asproceros?” I stepped inside.

  Master Jesper took the writhing snake from Evolene’s hands and placed it into a basket. “I want you to exercise caution when apprehending him. If he has been sent by the spriggans, his last captive might be yourself”

  My stomach churned at the notion. “Can either of you join us tonight?”

  Master Jesper shook its head. “This is a critical stage in the brewing process. I have to enchant multiple spells over the poison, and I can’t get it wrong. However, Madam Evolene may take the evening off.

  “Thank you.” She wiped her hands on a cloth. “I’ll bring the visibility dust.”

  “Is that to negate the effects of the cloak?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  Stafford stood. “Let’s go upstairs to class, then. We’ll come down for you in a few hours.”

  Chapter 18

  Dr. Duclair held Healing class in a room twice the size of Fyrian’s stall because she and a pair of male assistants wanted to demonstrate ways to calm anxious dragons. Master Hyacinthus attended the first half hour of the lecture to translate, as the dragon felt he needed a little moral support.

  I scribbled down a few notes but couldn’t focus because Asproceros and his monstrous fists occupied my mind. The ogre was indeed a coward. Most warriors wouldn’t run from weaker opponents, and they certainly wouldn’t attack them from behind or ambush them from behind a corner. He’d only managed to catch me unawares because I wasn’t prepared for him.

  “But you know what he’s like now,” said Fyrian.

  “Full of dirty tricks,” I replied. “Next time, I won’t let him take advantage of any blind spots.”

  “And dodge those fists.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What’s going on in class?”

  “Nothing.” I kept my eyes on the parchment.

  Dr. Duclair’s patient was a male with oxblood-colored scales who wore a black mask to obscure his face. From the faint scent of dung clinging to his scales, it was clear that the anxious dragon was Byrrus, Fyrian’s nemesis. He had passed up the opportunity to partner with Captain Caiman by bonding with King Magnar under the influence of the loyalty elixir. I pushed thoughts of the distressed dragon to the back of my mind. Fyrian wasn’t in the best of moods because of the wild dragon’s harassment, and I didn’t want to add any more fuel to her rivalry with Byrrus by showing her the class.

  “Cadet Bluford?” Dr. Duclair floated down from the masked dragon. “Are you still suffering from your recent concussion? You don’t seem to be concentrating.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Sorry. My mind wandered.”

  “Stay behind afterward.”

  My heart spasmed. I was supposed to be meeting the others to coordinate the ambush. “Yes, Doctor.”

  She flew back to address the entire class. “A dragon who loses the will to eat usually does so because of a low mood. For those of you who have mage powers, Healer Maccoa will demonstrate a basic healing technique. It infuses a little of another dragon’s energy into the patient to give them a boost.”

  A quarter-ogre with long, black-and-white hair in a braid that reached his shoulder blades stepped forward with his palms raised. “This only works when you’ve bonded to a dragon. If you try this without a bond, you’ll exhaust your magic and end up here for a week.”

  The witches in the front giggled. I glanced at Stafford, who shrugged. He didn’t find his comment amusing, either.

  “Focus on your bond and push some flames into your palms.” Healer Maccoa set both palms alight. “If anyone wants, they can follow along with me, but keep your hands off your parchment.”

  The witches tittered.

  I stared at my upturned hand. Tiny flames spread down from my fingertips and ended at the base of my knuckles.

  “Good,” said the healer. “I see a few of you have gotten it right.”

  I turned to Stafford, who had covered his entire palm with flames.

  “You just need to fine-tune where you’re putting the magic,” said Fyrian. “Concentrate.”

  Healer Maccoa strode up to the oxblood-colored dragon and rested both flaming palms on his chest. “Tell me how that feels? Any better?”

  The dragon nodded with a long, sulfurous breath, and all the tension left his muscles.

  “What do you think he’s depressed about?” asked Fyrian.

  “Maybe the other dragons make fun of him.”

  The bond went silent for several moments. “I’ll make more of an effort with Percoquo. He doesn’t eat people’s food these days.”

  “Do you think there’s anyone else you could be nicer to?” I asked.

  “I suppose I can stop calling Caneo miserable. I’ll bet he’s missing Thornicroft.”

  I shook my head. Once we’d caught Asproceros and found the dragonets, I’d speak to Fyrian about her attitude toward Byrrus.

  One of the rider cadets raised his hand. “What if he isn’t eating because of poison?”

  Dr. Duclair flew down. “There aren’t many things a dragon can ingest that causes much harm. Their noses are sensitive enough to identify substances that can make them ill.”

  He tapped the end of his quill on his lip. “Well, say someone tricked a dragon into eating meat with a hidden clump of dragonsbane, would you have to crawl down their throat?”

  “Of course not.” Her nose twitched. “There are elixirs and plants that will force a dragon to disgorge.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Nobody needs to climb into a dragon’s mouth except for in the direst circumstances.” She flicked open the doors with her staff. “Before our next class, I would like you to visit the library and identify five common plants that will make a dragon expel the contents of its gullet.”

  The riders groaned, and everyone packed their writing materials into their knapsacks. Healer Maccoa pulled back a folding door that opened up into a sandstone courtyard about the same size as the one outside the reception building. Byrrus gave the healer a nod of thanks and stepped out of the classroom.

  As the cadets streamed out, Stafford leaned close. “We’ll pick up Evolene and wait for you in the hallway.”

  “Thanks.” I pushed myself up and walked over to Dr. Duclair’s desk. “You wanted to speak to me?”

  “Have you been drinking quicksilver?”

  I drew back. “No.”

  “Your skin has a slight silvery hue.”

  My eyes widened. “Um… Fyrian and I connected, and there was a moon—”

  “A dragon quest?”

  “No.”

  “Then ho
w do you explain the physical manifestation of your connection on your skin? I take it you fell through the moon.”

  I gaped. “How did you—”

  “I’ve been the lead healer in Mount Fornax since the beginning. Who do you think gets to see all the mishaps between bonded partners?”

  I shuffled my feet. “What did I do wrong?”

  “Where have you been keeping the dream-horn General Thornicroft gave you?”

  “Umm… I left it in my knapsack. It’s probably still there.”

  “There’s your problem. The dream-horn combined with skin-to-scale contact with your dragon deepens the connection. At this rate, if you get hurt, so will Fyrian-Lacerta and vice versa.”

  “How do we stop it?”

  “A good night’s sleep should do the trick.” She wagged her finger. “Next time, don’t combine the dream-horn with such close proximity unless you wish to taste your dragon’s next meal.”

  I coughed. “Right. Thanks for your help. Could you not tell Master Fosco?”

  “Your medical information is confidential unless it concerns a contagious issue we cannot keep under control.”

  “Thank you.” I rushed to the door. “Bye, Doctor.”

  Outside in the hallway, Rufus, Gobi, Stafford, and Evolene leaned against the wall. Each wore grim expressions except Gobi, who grinned and rubbed his hands as though he was about to embark on the most exciting adventure in the Known World.

  “We’d better go and meet the others,” I murmured.

  We made our way out of the Healer’s Academy building and down to the terraces in silence. Asproceros would probably not attempt to steal dragonets tonight while everyone was still on high alert from this morning’s attack, but he would probably scope out his next target. That was what burglars did in the adventure scrolls.

  “Wait for me!” shouted a familiar voice from the terrace above. Roseate bounded after us down a flight of stairs.

  “Why?” I raised my head to the skies and let out an exasperated breath.

  “Paniscus was my betrothed. I should be there to avenge his death.”

  “Fine, but don’t cause us any trouble, or I’ll hand you to Asproceros as a parting gift.”

  She slowed her steps and nodded.