Dragon Mage Academy

by Cordelia Castel

  “Princess Piper,” Albens growled.

  “What about her?” King Magnar’s voice rose several octaves.

  “She is a witch?”

  He gulped. “Yes?”

  “She does not smell right.”

  “I-it’s the dark fairy magic, you see…” said Master Jesper. “It’s interfering with—”

  “She does not smell like a witch!”

  Everyone, including me, turned to stare at Piper. The little girl lay unmoving in her cot, although her chest rose and fell. This entire incident reminded me of the time Niger worked out my identity when Master Jesper removed the glamor over my scent. If this wasn’t Piper, who or what could it be?

  “Wake her.” King Magnar’s voice went dangerously soft.

  My pulse pounded hard within my dry throat. There was nothing intimidating about King Magnar, but his influence over the population of Mount Fornax, combined with his terrible personality made him a terrifying force to behold.

  Healer Alabio pushed himself through the crowd of warriors at the door and uncorked a vial of foul-smelling salts. “This will wake Princess Piper, but if they used magic to subdue her, this won’t be enough.”

  “Try.” King Magnar raised the little girl’s upper body off the bed and positioned her against his chest.

  The healer waved the salts under Piper’s nose. Her nostrils twitched, and she spluttered. “Hey!”

  King Magnar cupped her cheek. “Piper, are you well?”

  “W-what’s happening?”

  He turned to Master Jesper. “You said she was hysterical. She is clearly not. Explain yourself before my warriors make an example of you.”

  The door to the side room opened, and Dr. Duclair flew out, holding her staff. The tiny witch said, “Quiet, all of you, some people are trying to convalesce!”

  I stepped back, gaping at the tiny witch gliding into the room. Her bright yellow hair hung lank around her shoulders, a change from how it usually puffed out around her head like a dandelion seed. Her flying cloak billowed behind her like a flying carpet. If she was awake, then it meant that Master Jesper had used King Magnar’s gold to help the witches and not to produce the antidote to the loyalty elixir.

  My spirits plummeted through the soles of my boots. I had hoped my friends had been working behind the scenes to sabotage the war. That had been the only thing keeping me going while I stood at King Magnar’s side. I had hoped that Master Jesper would at least keep the witches asleep. Because now that they were awake, they could pull down the wards around Mount Fornax, leaving everyone free to start the war against the spriggans.

  “Dr. Duclair,” I asked. “How long have you been awake?”

  She glided through the doorway and rested the butt of her six-feet-tall staff on the ground. “Since around breakfast time, I suppose. Master Jesper very kindly updated me on all the happenings since we shut down the wards.”

  “How soon can you open them up again?” asked King Magnar.

  The doctor placed her hand on her chest. “Me? I’m merely a physician. You’ll need a security witch to perform any ward-based enchantments.”

  “Then where is Madam Maritimus?” King Magnar pointed at the door leading to the other room. “Search for her in there. If you can’t find her, check the wards.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Albens bowed and headed toward the adjoining room.

  Dr. Duclair pointed her staff to the door, and with a blast of magic, she sealed it shut. “I will not allow warriors to ogle recuperating witches!”

  Healer Alabio stepped forward. “Allow me.”

  The doctor pointed her staff at him. “Stay back, Alabio!”

  A vein in King Magnar’s temple pulsed. He raised his chin and glowered. “I command you to open that door.”

  The older witch folded her arms across her chest. “In my hospital, we do things my way.”

  I scratched my head. Why didn’t she fawn over him like the warriors and dragons? And since when were male healers not allowed to treat witches?

  Albens unsheathed a long, thin sword with a transparent, crystal blade. “Permission to arrest Dr. Duclair for treason, Your Majesty.”

  I stepped back, staring from the unusual weapon to the witch’s defiant face. The doctor seemed exactly as contemptuous of King Magnar as she had been before the plague. This could only mean one thing: the high concentration of gold in the witches’ alkahest had reversed the loyalty elixir.

  Dr. Duclair narrowed her eyes. “Stand down, Captain Griffon. I have no argument with you.”

  “You disrespect my King!” Albens swung at the crystal tip of her staff.

  The doctor somersaulted through the air and shot white light at Albens. It caught the tip of his sword, making it glow as red as freshly spilled blood.

  I stepped back, clapping my hand over my mouth. Blood!

  Master Jesper had taken King Magnar’s blood supposedly to heal Piper. What if he had siphoned it to a container instead of the little girl? It would make sense, considering Albens said she didn’t smell like a witch. And it would also explain Doctor Duclair’s defiance.

  Four of the mages who worked with Albens rushed into the room, crystal swords raised.

  “Apologies for my actions. There isn’t enough time to explain.” Blue light shot out of her staff, creating a transparent barrier.

  Albens lowered his sword. “Wait!”

  It was too late. As soon as his colleagues’ crystal blades touched her barrier, they froze. Ice encased their blades, spread up the hilts of their swords and crawled up their skin. Dr. Duclair pursed her lips at the immobilized warriors before dashing through the door to the adjacent room.

  King Magnar whirled on Evolene. “What is happening?”

  Eyes rounding, she cowered into her high-backed chair. “I-I don’t know.”

  “Have that witch arrested, too.”

  I stepped forward. “She didn’t do anything—”

  “Your Majesty!” Captain Caiman burst into the laboratory. Behind him were four warriors holding Niger and Stafford by the arms. “These two were trying to poison the drinking water.”

  Realization hit me like a boulder to the gut, making my eyes bulge. Master Jesper had completed the antidote and had sent Niger and Stafford to administer it to the dragons!

  King Magnar’s nostrils flared. “What?”

  Captain Olseni, the half-ogre who performed with the triune of dragons, entered holding two handfuls of vials the color of oxblood. “They were about to throw these into the water.”

  “The antidote.” King Magnar’s voice was colder than pink snow. “Did any of that substance enter the water?”

  “We don’t know, Your Majesty,” said Captain Caiman.

  He turned to Niger and Stafford. “Did you pour the antidote into the drinking water?”

  Neither of them spoke.

  His nostrils flared, and fury burned in his eyes. “Arrest everybody in this room. The troll, the witch, their patients, whoever might be posing as my sister, and my bride!”

  Chapter 20

  I backed away from Albens, raising my palms in a gesture I hoped would make me look innocent. “Nobody put any antidotes into the water, you’re just coming to conclusions.”

  In a fluid movement, Albens sheathed his crystal-bladed sword and pulled out a larger version of my Parched Sword. “Antidotes? Captain Caiman said it was poison.”

  “Think about it.” My back hit the edge of the large table, and I suppressed a grimace. “Why would Niger, who has five brothers in Mount Fornax, poison the water?”

  Stafford raised his hand. “I don’t have any family, but I wouldn’t poison anyone, either!”

  As if the logic of my argument had trickled through the fog of the elixir, the warriors exchanged confused looks.

  “Ignore her,” snapped King Magnar. “Arrest them all!”

  Albens advanced and reached for my arm. I jumped aside, skittered back around King Magnar, and wrapped one arm around his middle. After pull
ing thick clouds over my bond with Fyrian, I pressed my palm against his throat. “Come any closer, and I’ll burn your precious little ruler with my bare hands.”

  King Magnar scoffed. “You couldn’t even if you tried. The damsel denial forbids you to attack my person.”

  I clenched my teeth. “It doesn’t stop me from using you as a human shield.”

  Albens’ face turned crimson. “Traitor! You would dare threaten our beloved King?”

  “Ignore her,” snapped King Magnar. “She’s bluffing.”

  “You,” I said to Captain Olseni. “Place those vials on the floor or he burns.”

  The mossy-haired warrior’s eyes bulged. “I must protect His Majesty’s life at all costs!” Bending his knees, he lowered the vials onto the sandstone floor.

  “No!” cried King Magnar.

  “Good.” My gaze flickered to Evolene, who stood at the other end of the room, holding her staff. I gave her a nod, which I hoped would communicate that I needed her to move the vials into my pocket. “Now, everybody back away.”

  Albens stepped closer and raised his Parched Sword. His lips tightened, nostrils flared, and he sharpened his gaze with the look of a person about to do something that required a good aim.

  I twisted and pulled King Magnar back into his line of sight. No damsel denial magic struck at my heart. I had no intentions of hurting him or of escaping the wedding at noon. All I wanted were those vials and a chance to pour them into the nearest drinking hole.

  I drew my hand away from his neck and pushed flames through my fingertips. “Don’t be the reason why King Magnar gets burned.”

  Albens growled. The sound sent a jolt of fear through my heart, and I squeezed King Magnar tighter. Not enough to hurt him, but enough for Albens to realize that any attack on me would hurt us both.

  “You won’t get away with this, Princess Alba,” said King Magnar through gritted teeth. “You and your accomplices are surrounded, outnumbered and outmatched. However, if you cease this foolishness now, there will be no executions.”

  I stiffened. He had to be bluffing. It was hard to tell. Someone who would take advantage of loyalty potions to send warriors and dragons to their deaths might well carry out such sentences on those who tried to stop him. “You would—”

  A meaty hand tightened around my wrist, another clamped around my neck and lifted me off the ground. “Got you,” snarled a harsh voice. It belonged to Captain Olseni, the rider of the red triplets. “Traitor Princess!”

  “Get off me!” I dug my nails into the warrior’s fingers and tried to peel them off my neck, but it was a futile effort. He was too strong.

  King Magnar stepped away, rubbing his neck. “T-Thank you, Captain.”

  “Should I squeeze her neck until her eyes pop out, Sire?”

  “No!” He raised both hands. “But you may bring her to the mess hall for an immediate marriage.”

  The interior door of the laboratory slammed open, and General Thornicroft barreled out, flanked by Dr. Duclair and Madam Maritimus. His entire chest was bandaged.

  “Freeze!” He held out two massive palms, shooting white flames from each finger.

  Red magic shot out of Madam Maritimus’ staff and hit the half-ogre holding me. His fingers straightened, releasing me to the ground.

  I fell in a low crouch. Glass tinkled deep within the pockets of my skirts. A quick glance at the floor told me the vials were missing from where Captain Olseni had left them. Up above, magic from the witches’ staffs and fire attacks from the mages filled the laboratory.

  BOOM!

  Smoke filled the laboratory, making everybody cough. Keeping low, I sent a silent word of thanks to Evolene for slipping the vials into my pockets and to whoever had thrown the explosive and obscured my escape.

  I crawled on my hands and knees around doubled-over warriors and into the hallway. Cool, fresh air filled my lungs. Inhaling deeply, I glanced over my shoulder. Smoke billowed through the opening in the doorway. My stomach dropped, and I quickened my movements.

  Strong arms picked me off the floor and set me on my feet. “Princess Alba,” said a cadet. “What happened to you?”

  I widened my eyes. “There was an accident. King Magnar has fallen! I’m going upstairs to the healer to get help.”

  “I will come with you.”

  “No! Save my beloved.” My insides cringed as I said the words. I sounded like I actually cared for the wretched King.

  The cadet gave me a sharp nod and raced into the room, only to trip over and fall onto his face.

  Holding my skirt above my ankles, I jogged down the hallway. Glass vials clinked together with every step, encouraging me to hurry before the smoke wore off and the warriors came after me.

  BZZZZZZZZZZT!

  The high-pitched sound pierced my eardrums, and I stumbled forward, clapping my hands over my ear. The explosive had triggered some kind of hazard alarm.

  A small body collided into my side. “Put this on!”

  “Evolene?”

  She shoved a bundle into my arms. “Quick!”

  I shoved on the invisibility cloak, just in time for the stairwell doors to fly open and six burly healers to burst into the hallway, each holding what looked like giant hand cannons. Evolene and I threw ourselves against the walls, out of the males’ way. I closed my eyes and shuddered. We had left Master Jesper, Stafford, and Niger alone with King Magnar fanatics.

  I was about to turn back when Evolene pulled on my arm. “Hurry.”

  “What about the others?” I whispered.

  “Everyone on our side placed an antidote under their tongues just in case. The sleeping gas won’t last forever.”

  “All right.” I ran up the stairs and through the hallway with Evolene at my heels. Between my friends, Master Jesper, General Thornicroft, the doctor, and Madam Maritimus, there were enough brains and power to defeat King Magnar’s minions. “We need to give Fyrian an antidote first, then we’re pouring these vials into the dragons’ drinking pool.”

  “Won’t she be angry with you for threatening King Magnar?”

  “I hid that incident from our bond. As long as we reach her before the dragons notice what’s happening, we might be able to convince her to take the antidote.”

  We ran through the double doors into the overcast morning, across the lawn, and through the gates. Ahead, a group of warriors sparred on the banks of the Great Lake. I grabbed Evolene’s hand, and we darted down the side of the walled compound, down to the next terrace and around the mountain until we reached Fyrian’s stall. It was empty.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  She sent a visual of herself swooping down on the largomorphus rex. “The others said I could eat as much as I want because I’m the Queen of Dragons’ mount.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “Do you think you can get away for a bit? I have something to give you.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a surprise for the wedding.”

  “Oh! All right.”

  “She’s coming,” I said to Evolene. “What do I do? Put a drop on her tongue?”

  “We made it to soak through skin and scales but it’s also drinkable.”

  I nodded. Splashing it on her skin was a lot easier than trying to convince her to take a strange elixir.

  Moments later, excited chitters and screeches sounded from above, and dozens of dragons flew in formation from the east. I squinted up into the sky. One of them seemed to be wearing a yellow garland.

  I gritted my teeth. “I forgot to tell her not to bring her friends.”

  Evolene tugged at my sleeve. “Turn around and dab some antidote on your fingers, then. That way you can cure them through touch.”

  “All right.” I uncorked the vial with my teeth and dipped each finger into the deep-red liquid. “Is that enough?”

  “It’s plenty.”

  I replaced the cork and turned back. Fyrian flew into her stall, as did some of the green dragons who dwelled in the stalls on that leve
l. The rest of them, who I suspected were a combination of the black dragons who lived by the largomorphus rex and the civilian green dragons who had performed in King Magnar’s tournament, circled overhead.

  “I hope you didn’t mind me bringing my friends.” She turned around, revealing a garland of flame-colored flowers interwoven into her horns. “They all wanted to congratulate you before the wedding.”

  “The more the merrier.” I gave Fyrian a pat on the foreleg. “What’s that around your head?”

  “Do you like it?” she squealed. “It matches your bridal bouquet. Master Roopal says that once you’ve wed King Magnar, I will fly you both around Mount Fornax to meet all the dragons.”

  I pushed my feelings to a far corner of my mind and obscured them with mist. “Aaah… They’re lovely. I’ll bet that’s thirsty work. Why don’t we all have a drink together?”

  Carefully avoiding the garish dandedragon flowers, I climbed onto Fyrian’s back and helped Evolene on.

  “Has she said anything yet?” Evolene mouthed.

  I shook my head. “Could you show me that spot behind the waterfalls?”

  “Where we were drinking the night before?” Fyrian launched herself off the side of the terrace and spread her wings. She soared over the terraces and around the mountain.

  “That’s the one,” I said.

  She continued flying without comment. Evolene turned to me and raised her brows in question. I shrugged. So far, Fyrian didn’t seem like she’d snapped out of the loyalty elixir. If it had worked, she should have mentioned something by now, even if it was embarrassment at her recent attempts to please King Magnar.

  “Umm… Alba?” she asked.

  “Is anything wrong?”

  “Am I imagining things, or are you really going to marry King Magnar?” she asked.

  “Don’t you remember the damsel denial?”

  “Yes, but I’ve never known you to give in so easily.”