by Riley Storm
“Naw,” the dragon drawled, covering a fake yawn. “I think not. Begone.”
Kyla gritted her teeth. “I will knock hard enough that he will come himself if I must,” she growled, lifting her staff, dropping it against the concrete.
Green magic sparks shot out from her in a circle. They died short of the wards, but continued out for ten yards in every other direction.
Almost immediately, the air around her grew cold. She smiled in understanding. He was an ice dragon.
A quick mental effort pushed energy into the staff. The ruins carved along its length began to glow softly, and immediate warmth repulsed the dragon’s spell.
“I will be speaking with your King,” she said, using a gust of wind to blow the heat toward the ice dragon, turning the air absolutely torridly hot just before it crossed the ward.
The ward blocked the spell, but hot air was just hot air, and so it let it pass. The ice dragon growled angrily as sweat broke out across his forehead before he gestured angrily, and the temperature again dropped.
“You’re too young,” Kyla announced, taking a gamble. “You can’t defeat me, ice dragon. But nor do I seek to defeat you. I am here to talk. Nothing more.”
She pushed aside the memory of the Archmage’s other command.
“So step through the barrier then,” the dragon said, crossing his arms.
“Really? Come on now.” Kyla lifted her staff and rapped the bottom against the wards again. This time she didn’t tap lightly, but put a bit more effort behind it.
Golden magic sprang to life in a fifty-foot arc around her. This was the equivalent of knocking hard enough for someone on the second floor to hear with ease. Kyla wasn’t here to play games.
The ice dragon looked uneasy at the casual display of magic. Many mages could knock harder of course, in fact most could. But her casual disdain for the response it might provoke was what the dragon was noting. Whoever she was, she clearly felt confident in her ability to answer any reply that might come their way.
“Very well,” the dragon said, coming to a decision. “You may enter.”
“Thank you…” she trailed off, her eyes watching him.
“Valla Drakon,” the young ice dragon said gruffly.
“Kyla. Thank you for that.”
He shrugged and gestured her forward. “Come on then.”
It was then that Kyla realized his eyes were focused beyond her. On something else. She passed through the barrier, the magic only dulling her magic now, not stripping it from her completely. Once she was through, she looked over her shoulder.
Nothing was there. Nothing except the forest.
“Everything okay?” she asked, noting the dragon’s uneasy stance and the clenched fist filled with ice.
“Let’s go see the King,” Valla said quietly, taking one last look out the gate before heading back up the driveway, one Kyla Langston in tow.
So far so good, even if nothing was going the way she envisioned it.
Chapter 4
“Galen.”
Looking up from his book, Galen spied one of his brothers in the doorway.
“Valla,” he said, returning the greeting. “What can I do for you? Who was at the front door?”
The ice dragon opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, someone else slipped in front of him, ignoring Valla’s attempt to keep her back.
“My name is Kyla Langston, and I am here on behalf of the Archmage of the Guild,” the woman said formally.
Galen found himself on his feet immediately, eyes glued to the new woman. She was tall, he noted, for a woman at least. A few inches over five-and-a-half feet, she wouldn’t be imposing her will on anyone through sheer height alone, but then, that wouldn’t be necessary.
Power radiated from the woman. Not just her calm in the presence of two dragon shifters, but in a much more literal sense as well. Dragons were well tuned to magical things, much like the mages themselves, and Galen could feel the power contained in the young woman’s thick body.
Her eyes were locked onto his, the dark gray of her iris yet another indicator to the elder dragon that this woman was far more than she appeared. He eyed the long jacket, likely stuffed with all nature of magical aids, and then the staff itself.
“A powerful weapon,” he remarked, gesturing at it, noting the ruins and the casual way in which she held the five-foot-long piece of wood.
“A tool,” she corrected smoothly, following his gaze. “It can be a weapon, but it can do much more as well. Only a novice thinks of it as purely a weapon.”
Galen smiled. “Well met, mage.” He tried to keep any disdain from his voice at his acknowledgment of what she was.
It wasn’t easy. Many memories of his past bubbled to the surface, and old instincts made Galen want to reach out and choke the life out of her, right then and there.
Yet something about her stayed his hand, keeping him intrigued.
“What can we do for you?” He tried not to let his eyes wander to the attractive features that the young mage presented to him.
It was difficult. More difficult than it should have been, in fact, and Galen caught himself starting to frown on more than one occasion as she talked.
“The Archmage has sent me to talk to you,” Kyla said. “He has some questions, and hopes that you will be able to answer them.”
“This is rather unusual, don’t you think?” Galen interrupted before she could elaborate. “Why, there hasn’t been any contact between us and the Mages Guild in over a century. Now you come here, to our house, wanting to ask questions of us?”
His own distrust of mages was boiling over, and Galen knew it. Powerful memories were rising to the surface, powerful and painful. Thoughts he’d long since tried to forget, to put behind him. Feelings that the long deep sleep of the past century had helped render null and void upon his awakening.
All this and more was brought back to the surface by the woman’s presence. The air around her stirred, a sign of Galen’s subconscious reaching out, wanting to hurt her. To kill her, for what the mages had done to dragons.
For what they had done to him.
“There must be a first at some point,” Kyla pointed out, her eyes darting around, focusing on nothing, it seemed.
She could feel the air moving. Knew what it must signal about Galen.
“Perhaps,” he admitted, not wanting to completely give her the point. “Ask your question then,” he said, anxious for the meeting to be over.
“Rumors have reached us,” the mage began.
“Rumors,” Galen echoed, feeling his temper rise, fueled by pain. “You come here to ask about rumors? Really? You bother me for that?”
To his surprise, the mage did not back down. She didn’t even waver as his voice grew deeper, more anger-filled.
“I wish to confirm them, and to figure out what they mean if they are true,” she said defiantly, thrusting her jaw out at him ever so slightly in challenge.
Air swirled more strongly around her, Galen’s powers translating his emotions.
Those dark gray eyes looked around again, and then the mage banged her staff against the floor. The air abruptly stilled around her.
Galen reared back, impressed at the backbone. The Guild clearly had not sent anyone who would be easily cowed by a shifter.
“What rumor?” he asked, deciding to answer her question and throw her out as soon as possible.
“It is being said that Draconis has united the shifters, brought them all into an alliance.”
The mage spoke without hesitation, nor without any diplomatic speak, something Galen despised completely. Blunt, easy conversation was the best to have in his opinion. He was grateful that the mage either felt the same, or was smart enough to pick up on this. Either way, his respect for her went up slightly.
“And who is saying that, Kyla of the Guild?” he asked, using her name so that he wouldn’t forget it.
“The Archmage.”
She wasn’t afraid of him.
Galen was only now cluing in to the reality of the situation. He could feel her power, and he knew she was strong. The question now on his mind, was just how strong? It was obvious that, for a human, even a human mage, she was still young.
“Who are you, Kyla Langston? What role do you play in the Guild?” he asked, sidestepping her question for the time being, determined to get an answer for himself before he replied.
It was fascinating watching her, seeing the various courses of action available to the mage play across her face as she tried to decide how to respond to his question.
“I asked first,” she decided in the end, not wanting to let herself be cowed, even by an elder dragon.
Galen chuckled. He hated this woman, despised her for what she was, and what her kind had done, yet he could not help but extend a bit of respect to her for sticking to her guns.
“Technically, you did not ask a question,” he pointed out. “Thus, I have asked first.”
It was true. She had said her statement as a challenge, not a question. He could see that knowledge sink home.
“I am a member of the Mage Council,” Kyla said, deciding to give him this point.
“Young, no?”
“The youngest,” she said without pride. To her, that was just a fact.
“You are well learned for someone so young,” he said. “And I applaud your bravery in coming here alone, without an escort of other mages.”
“I can take care of myself,” Kyla said. “Besides, I don’t plan on ruffling any feathers. Or scales, I guess.”
Again, confidence, fact, not arrogance. Galen had to fight back a smile.
“The rumors you here are correct,” he said. “The shifters have been brought back into alliance with one another.”
Kyla looked around, and for the first time Galen thought she looked uncomfortable. Almost worried. Scared, maybe, though she fought it back valiantly.
“I see. I would ask one more question of you then, if that is okay?”
He gestured for her to continue.
“Do you intend to renew the war against us?” she asked quietly.
Galen felt the subtle pull as magic was summoned to the woman. He noted the way she gripped the staff just a little tighter. The slight shuffle of her feet as she transferred the weight to her toes, ready to move if necessary.
She was afraid now.
“Of course not,” he barked, trying to diffuse the situation. “The Mages are not even on our radar.”
Kyla shook her head. “Then why the alliance?” she asked. “Why unite the shifters once more, if not to fight us?”
Galen could have toyed with her. Could have led the mage down a dozen different logic paths if he’d wanted to, but for some reason, he found himself wanting to calm her down. To assure the mage that everything was okay between her kind and his. That she had nothing to fear.
Has a century of sleep seen you grow soft? Why do you not wish to see her tremble?
The answer was clear, after a second of thought. He was thinking as King, not as Galen. He would have to answer as his position, not his person, because that was the meaning of diplomacy.
I hate diplomacy.
He threw her a bone.
“We are united because there is a greater threat. Something else that we must fight together,” he said, wondering if the gravity of his words would work past her distrust of him. “This enemy comes from the ancient past, and if we do not fight as one, then we will be destroyed.”
Kyla’s only reaction was a flaring of her nostrils and widening of her pupils. Otherwise, she kept herself stoically calm.
“What enemy?” she wanted to know, though it was obvious she thought he was lying, hoping to distract her from the truth.
Galen’s eyes bored into hers heavily.
“Vampires.”
Chapter 5
“Vampires, you say.”
It was the only answer she could think of to something that sounded so preposterous. Everyone in the paranormal world knew that vampires had been killed off an age ago. She’d read about it in ancient texts from mages who had been there. Who had lived through that terrible era, and the fall of the vampires and the empire they had built on the backs of Rome.
“Yes. Don’t believe me?”
“It seems farfetched,” she said, trying to get her mind in order.
Absolutely nothing had gone the way she’d expected it to.
In her mind, Kyla had built up a picture of shifters over the years. A mental image of what they would be like. How they would talk, act, even dress. It hadn’t been hard. In her youth she’d talked to many old mages who had lived through the ending stages of the war. Mages who had first-hand experience with shifters, even the dragons who had disappeared in the years after the war.
She knew what they were like. Brutish, uncivilized, raw. They couldn’t speak properly, they were gruff, easily prone to anger and all around almost barbaric. Kyla knew this on a level so instinctive she felt it.
Then she’d come to Drakon Keep, and the dragon shifters had blown that all up. Their King, Galen, was well-spoken, well-groomed, and he wore a fitted polo and dark blue jeans.
Not to mention he wore them well. Comfortably, like he was used to that method of dress. His hair was combed nicely to one side, resting easily, as if it was naturally looking that good. He was everything she hadn’t expected.
Trying to wrap her mind around the differences between what she’d been told to expect and what she was seeing had been hard enough without her eyes constantly admiring the physique under the shirt and pants.
But then he’d gone and told her that the shifters were uniting to fight vampires. Altogether, it was leaving Kyla feeling unprepared and overwhelmed by everything.
Get it together. Keep your cool. Don’t let them see you sweat. It’s not worth it. You’re better than them. Remember that.
“We have one downstairs?” the King said calmly. “You can go see him anytime you want, if you wish proof. Open offer.”
“Actually?” she said, disbelief coloring her words.
“No of course not,” Galen said, rolling his eyes. “If we find one of them we kill them. Immediately.”
“I see.”
“You can either choose to believe me, or not,” Galen said, fixing her with a glare. “I have no reason to lie to you, but trust me, they are back.”
Kyla nodded slowly, returning her eyes to the King. He wasn’t acting, she decided. Not about the vampires, nor were his mannerisms a front either. This was Galen, the real Galen. Nobody could pull off this cool, detached demeanor so well, while continuing to remain well spoken.
If she wasn’t seeing it with her own eyes, Kyla doubted she’d be able to accept it, but she was seeing it. The dragon shifters at least, were nothing like what she’d been led to believe.
Which likely means the others aren’t as bad as we think either.
Kyla didn’t like what that implied if she traced the logic back.
It meant that the mages were in the wrong. That they were the ones prejudiced against shifters.
We’re not as good as we think we are.
“Why are the Mages worried?” the King asked, speaking into the silence that had fallen over them as Kyla came to her very unpleasant conclusions. It would take her time to process them, and she had many more questions to ask of herself and her fellow mages before she truly believed that they had gotten it wrong, but right now…things weren’t looking so good.
I can deal with misconceptions, purposeful or not, later. Right now, focus on the issue at hand.
“Are you up to something that you shouldn’t be? Are you violating the Novarupta Accords?” Galen wanted to know, his voice hard.
“No,” she said sternly. “Any violation of the Accords is dealt with appropriately, either by us, or by the teams your Houses continue to run. The anti-mage teams. We respect the boundaries, and have for a century,” she said defiantly.
“Of course,” Galen said, waving the po
int away with a hand.
“We have no interest in a renewed war,” Kyla stated, making the point clearly, not wanting it to get lost. “That, after all, is why I am here. We feared you were uniting the shifters to come after us. To eliminate us for good.”
Galen snorted. “In all honesty, the Mages Guild had not even entered my mind until you arrived here,” he said. “Our focus is elsewhere, you may rest assured of that. Our enemy, this enemy, is much, much worse.”
“Worse how?” she asked, curious. Vampires were not a subject she had much experience with. They existed in the textbooks, a footnote from a time in the past. No mage studied them anymore. They were extinct, after all, so why bother?
The Dragon King shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Kyla bit her hard to keep her face from showing any emotion.
It was bad. She could tell just from his body language.
“The vampires are…different,” Galen said at last.
“My King.”
Kyla started as Valla spoke up for the first time. She’d forgotten he was standing behind her and the sudden reminder of such a powerful figure at her back set her heart pounding.
“It’s fine, Valla,” the King said, waving the protest down. “They deserve to know what’s out there. They inhabit our world, they should know what dangers await.”
“What do you mean?” Kyla wasn’t sure she wanted an answer, but she needed it. The Archmage would want all the information he could possibly get before he decided on how to react to all that she would tell him.
“The vampires aren’t just here to kill us, to eradicate all shifters,” Galen explained. “They mean to subjugate us. To rule us. To fit among us.”
Kyla licked her lips. “But...I don’t understand,” she said, confused. “Why would any shifter ever submit to them? They aren’t like you.”
Galen looked down. “Some of them are,” he admitted.
“Are what?” She didn’t understand.
“Some of the vampires can now shift,” he told her uncomfortably. “We don’t know how, but they obviously have figured out a way to combine shifter and vampire DNA to create something evil. Now they feel as if they are entitled to a seat on the Shifter Court. A seat they intend to take by force, where they will then exert their will over the rest of us.”