“That’s fine.” It was the best I was going to get. All I needed was to ensure no one suspected my true identity at the Dragon Academy.
“There’s one thing I’m curious about.” Her gaze lingered on my hips and thighs.
“What’s that?”
“How do you intend to hide that pretty face and feminine form?”
My mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. I glanced around the murals for inspiration and caught sight of a depiction of Aunt Cendrilla standing between two Queen’s Guardsmen. Both stood only a head taller than her instead of the customary eight feet for full-blooded ogres, and both had faces as handsome as Father’s. Her guards had gotten themselves glamoured to look more appealing. An idea dropped into my head. “Magic.”
She raised her brows. “Beg pardon, dear?”
“You can make me look like a male ogre-hybrid.”
“Witch magic can only make one-step changes.” She rubbed her chin. “I can make a full ogre look like a half-ogre, and a half-ogre look like a human. But your situation is different. I can make you look like a male, but you’d be a male…”
“Yes, yes.” I nodded. “A male whatever I am.”
Being a mix of human, ogre, high fairy, and low-fairy, there was no label for my exact species. I shook off those thoughts. “Can you turn me into a man, then?”
“You’d be a scrawny one and might not look old enough to shave. Is that all right with you?”
A relieved breath whooshed out of my lungs. Right now, anything would be better than looking like me. “That would be great. Thank you!”
“It would be more comfortable for you if I made your armor and the rest of your supplies fit your original figure. I can glamour it all when I’ve finished.” She gestured to the corner of the room where three eight-foot-tall mirrors stood arranged in a semi-circle.
I gave her a grateful smile, and when I reached the changing area, I pulled off the smelly tunic and breeches then stood in my underwear. Magical tailors could alter clothing in mere minutes, but they still needed to mold an accurate dress form to produce a well-fitting outfit. Depending on the skill of the tailor, the garment could adjust to bodily changes, such as growth spurts. The witch who made my clothes in Mount Bluebeard would always work with much larger fabric and shrink it to accommodate my smaller body, allowing me to use the garment even after I’d grown.
Madam Skinner raised her staff, and Hevea tree latex rose from a bucket. The warm, milky white substance slipped under my thin covering of underclothes, wrapped around my limbs, and squeezed my torso, making me gasp.
“Sorry, dear,” said Madam Skinner. “You’ll be doing everything in your armor, so it needs to shrink and stretch with your movements.”
“A-all right.” The mold loosened, letting me exhale.
She bustled to the other side of the room and pulled four animal hides from the shelves and laid them on the cutting table. Magic flashed from her staff, filling the room with white light. I squinted, not wanting to miss the spectacle. Invisible blades cut the leather into several pieces, which joined together to form a pair of long breeches, an undershirt, and a high-necked jacket with reinforced shoulders. Thick, buckled straps flew from the wall and fastened themselves to the jacket at the waist and wrists.
The tightness in my chest loosened. I was one step toward becoming a dragon warrior!
“There you go, dear.” Madam Skinner turned off her stream of magic. “Try it on.”
She handed me some long underwear and gestured for me to go behind a canvas screen. The interior of the garment felt as soft as silk and was even more comfortable than the dragon-proof armor she’d made me as a child. I supposed that over time, magical advancements had improved the garments’ usability.
I stepped out and gazed at my reflection in the full-length mirrors. The tinting elixir had already failed to stick, and now my platinum hair fell down to my elbows, its hue contrasting with the brown of the leather.
Joy burst across my chest, making me smile. I didn’t look quite so pale as I did in the Magical Militia uniform. “It’s perfect!”
“Not yet.” Madam Skinner studied another painting of Aunt Cendrilla. This one was an official portrait of her with King Armin and the twins. The witch raised her staff and bathed me with white magic.
My skin crawled as though infested by millions of marching ants, and I squeezed my eyes shut. The light was so bright, it seeped through my eyelids. When it cleared, I opened my eyes to gaze into the mirror. A masculine, square-jawed face gazed back. It was pleasant enough, but belonged to a slender, blond-haired boy with narrow shoulders, enthusiastic blue eyes, and pink cheeks. I groaned. A runt like me would be fodder for bullies.
“I did say I couldn’t make you manly,” said Madam Skinner. “Such a feat would take fairy magic.”
“It’s all right,” I said in a much deeper voice.
The only high fairy who would be willing to do me a favor like that was my cousin, Chrysus, Aunt Cendrilla’s son with Prince Vanus. But he was young, unreliable, and likely to turn me into a male salmon just to laugh at my shocked expression. “I don’t look like a girl, and that’s all that matters.”
“Come on, then.” She released the privacy spell and ushered me toward the doors. “I’ll complete the rest of your order, and my apprentice will pack your things in a trunk.”
“Thank you!” I gave Madam Skinner my brightest smile and stepped into the reception area.
Behind the counter, the young apprentice witch was already packing a trunk for a man who looked about twenty. His blonde hair was scraggly as though he hadn’t trimmed it in months, and his eyes were a warmer shade of blue than mine. He was about my height and nearly as slender as me.
I breathed out a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn’t be the only human-looking boy in a Dragon Academy full of ogre hybrids.
He glanced up and smiled. “Oh, hello. My name’s Ivan. Are you joining the Academy, too?”
My gaze darted from Ivan to the apprentice witch, who stared back at me with her mouth wide open. If she blurted that I had turned myself into a boy, my plan would be ruined. I gulped and turned my attention to Ivan, hoping the apprentice’s words would be more discreet than her shocked expression.
“Yes.” I deepened my voice. “I’m Albert.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” We shook hands, and he winced. “You have a strong grip!”
“Oh… Sorry.” Ogre males, whether hybrid or not, used handshakes as a test of dominance. Perhaps Ivan had been kicked around too many times to bother trying to prove himself.
He grinned. “Where are you from?”
A tight band of panic wound around my chest, and I stopped breathing. If I got the answer wrong, my plans could crumble into sand. Possibilities danced through my mind. I could say Bluebeard Mountain. It was large enough to accommodate a vast community of extended family and human serfs, but that might get me introduced to family members at the Academy who might recognize me under my disguise. I couldn’t say that I came from one of Aunt Cendrilla’s many orphanages, because Ivan was young enough to be one of her charges and might catch me in a lie.
I said the only reasonable option that came to mind. “The United Kingdom of Seven.”
“Really?” His eyes widened. “What’s it like?”
The tightness in my chest faded. “I come from Metropole. It’s built up with paved sidewalks and cobbled streets. And most of the buildings are made of limestone.”
Madam Skinner took her apprentice to the far end of the counter, and the two witches prepared a wooden case. The younger witch levitated items from the other room, while Madam Skinner scribbled something down into a piece of parchment. I hope she wasn’t taking notes for some kind of report to Aunt Cendrilla.
“Does your family live in a limestone building?” asked Ivan.
I tried not to picture the Metropole Palace, where Uncle Armin lived with the twins. They were my stepbrothers, I suppose, but no one had
explained Father’s political marriage to my aunt until I was much older. And it was only when I’d joined the Magical Militia and Mother had left that their marriage became more… traditional.
Shaking off those thoughts, I said, “Only rich people get to live in places like that. Where are you from?”
“Nowhere as exciting as you.” He raised his narrow shoulders, and his scraggly blond hair fell over his eyes. “Mother and I live in a little settlement a few leagues away from Bluebeard territory.
My stomach dropped, but I smoothed out my features. “I-is that nearby?”
“Mount Bluebeard?” He shook his head. “It’s all the way down south at the border with the Boreal Desert.”
Madam Skinner returned with her apprentice, who held a wooden trunk. “That will be thirty gold pieces.”
“Mine was only twenty!” said Ivan.
She gave us a knowing smirk. “Ah, but young Albert is a growing boy. I had to take that into account when constructing his uniform.”
Ivan turned back to me. “How old are you?”
“F-fifteen!” I squeaked. It was about the same age as my twin cousins, Robert and Brendan. As they had a human father and were a quarter-fairy, they weren’t the bulkiest of boys, either.
Ivan whistled. “That’s young. Stick with me, then. I’ll teach you everything I know about dragon riding.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “It’s hard to find out about dragons in the United Kingdom of Seven.”
Ivan picked up his trunk and placed it under his arm. “Dragons are top secret business in Steppe, too. But I’ve read every book on them. I know about all seven types, and their stages of growth. You could call me an expert.”
I nodded and picked out thirty gold pieces from my purse. Ivan was likely scared underneath the bluster, and I needed a friend at the Dragon Academy.
Madam Skinner placed her signature at the bottom of a receipt. Her apprentice glanced over her shoulder and pointed at the last item on the list. They whispered something to each other. I gulped, imagining that the older witch was explaining the cost of the glamor she’d placed on me and my clothing.
I glanced at Ivan to see if he’d noticed, but he only asked, “Have you bought your books yet?”
Dread lined my gut like cold lead, and I wrapped my arms around my middle. Mr. Jankin’s letter hadn’t said anything about books! “Um… No.”
“Come on.” He flicked his head toward the door. “We can buy our other supplies and have a snack at the Pudding Tent before the journey. I’ve booked the Mount Fornax Float.”
“Oh.” It hadn’t even occurred to me that the dragon sanctuary would have its own transportation. I’d planned on booking a Witch-Craft. These were small, flying carriages powered by a single witch but traveled twice as fast as horses.
After I thanked Madam Skinner and her apprentice, they handed me a wooden trunk with the Dragon Academy’s Insignia burned into the wood. Underneath its lid were the words:
Property of Albert Bluford.
Warmth filled my chest, and I pressed my lips together, trying to suppress my glee. My disguise was complete, I’d made a friend, and he was going to show me what else I needed to buy for the Academy!
Chapter 5
It took us longer than planned to find the books we needed, so we had to skip the pudding tent and make our way to the bus station, an open marquee made of the same kind of white linen as the merchants’ tents. It stood twenty feet tall and was held up by a dozen pillars twice as thick as the legs of a great mammoth.
The sun was past its zenith but still shone as brightly as it did two hours ago at noon. Its powerful rays illuminated the marquee’s interior, which provided seating for most of the races that dwelled in Steppe. Under the canopy sat a one-eyed giant atop a triple-height bench, squinting at the latest Ogre Gazette.
“The Flying Float arrives in a few minutes,” said Ivan.
“How did you know about it?” I asked.
Ivan furrowed his brow. “A prospectus was attached to my offer letter. Did you not get one?”
He snapped open the lid of his wooden trunk and pulled out a thick, papyrus scroll. It was wrapped at both ends with string attached to the Mount Fornax dragon’s head seal.
“The messenger must have lost mine,” I muttered.
He shrugged. “Not to worry. I’ll let you read this on the journey.”
I gave him a grateful smile. If I hadn’t met Ivan, I would have turned up at the Academy with no books. But I couldn’t complain, because my application had been at the last minute, and Mr. Jankin had been kind enough to offer me a place.
Knowing Father, he was probably forcing the human artist to paint me from memory and preparing to send me to the Savannah Empire as soon as I returned from my supposed trip to the fairy realm.
“Let’s sit over there.” Ivan pointed at the bench furthest away from the giant.
As we crossed the road, a flying archelon circled overhead. White barnacles encrusted its leathery, black hide. The creature was sixteen feet wide, almost as long, and bigger than any other kind of turtle that dwelled in the Cursed Sea. I guessed that its lack of shell and some kind of enchantment enabled it to remain airborne over land.
The archelon swooped down, stretching out massive, leathery flippers.
Ivan gasped and pulled me out of reach of its claws. “What’s that thing doing out of the sea?”
The archelon landed on the road in front of the marquee with a thud, bringing up clouds of dust. I jerked my head away, not wanting to get any in my eyes. On the pillar, beneath the wanted poster for the former King Rhinoceros of the Glacier Islands, was a new poster, which said:
REWARD!
(Fifty Gold Crowns )
Reward for the capture, dead or alive of Simum Simum, the ogre also known as:
ASPROCEROS
Age, 375. Height 8 feet 5 inches.
Weight 658 pounds. White hair, black eyes, and with a single, ivory horn in the middle of his forehead.
He murdered a young dragon rider and maimed his dragon.
The above reward will be paid for his capture or positive proof of his death.
Master Fosco, Director of Mount Fornax Dragon Sanctuary
Beneath it was a faded poster of a human named Jack Galloway, who murdered Father’s guardian, the giant and previous Lord Bluebeard, with a slingshot. He’d been caught, punished and subjected to a non-fatal beheading, but at some point during the Great Dragon Revolution, someone had stolen his still-living head. But now, Jack Galloway was missing.
I tilted my head to the side. There was something familiar about the scraggly-looking human. Had I met him on a trip to the United Kingdom of Seven?
Ivan nudged me in the ribs. “Look at that!”
The one-eyed giant sat on the back of the archelon, still reading his copy of the Ogre Gazette. At around eleven feet tall, he was small compared to the previous Lord Bluebeard’s fourteen feet, but his legs were still too long to ride the beast. The archelon raised its blotchy head, opened a beak sharp enough to slice off a man’s neck, and released a roar that was more tuba than whale song.
Before we could watch the archelon take off with the giant, a black carriage landed, blocking our view. Unlike most flying vehicles, this one’s wings didn’t consist of curled wood feathers. Long, bone-shaped protrusions sprouted from its sides, splitting into finger-like spokes, which supported wings made of leather.
“Here it is.” Ivan pointed at the dragon insignia on its door.
A pink-haired witch wearing a brown, leather tunic over a fabric uniform stepped out of the vehicle holding a citrine-tipped staff. Her hazelnut-brown eyes widened, and she stared from me to Ivan, and back to me.
My heart stopped, and I clutched my wooden trunk to my chest. Could she see through Madam Skinner’s magic? Maybe that was why her apprentice had been staring at me. Some spells could be altered so they could fool everyone but witches. That was it. My mouth dried. Any second now, she would ask why a girl
was dressed in the uniform of a dragon warrior cadet.
The witch tucked her staff under her arm and pulled out a scroll from her skirt pocket. “It says here that I’m picking up one Ivan Longhorn.”
“That’s me,” said Ivan.
“But there’s two of you.”
My lungs released a whoosh of air, and I nearly collapsed with relief. She hadn’t seen through my glamour. “Erm…” I flipped open my wooden trunk and pulled out my offer letter. “Mr. Jankin told me to report to the Academy today.”
The witch stepped forward to take the letter. I stole a glance at the name etched on the shoulder of her tunic. It said Roseate Nudibranch.
Four cat-eyed ogres crossed the road, each carrying a giant crate dotted with several breathing holes. From deep within the crate were ominous rattling and buzzing sounds. The largest of the group muttered, “Delivery for Mount Fornax?”
“Over here.” Roseate raised her staff and opened the back door.
While the ogres loaded the crates, the witch skimmed the contents of my scroll and then turned the parchment around. “There’s nothing here about taking the Fornax Float.”
“Can’t you let me ride with Ivan?” I asked.
Roseate handed back the scroll. “You boys know nothing about witches. I’ll end up draining my life force carrying double the expected passengers.”
I glanced at the bone-white frames of the float’s wings. What she had said was true but outdated, as Militia researchers had developed ways for the flying apparatus of vehicles to absorb ambient magic. Since the white of the frames indicated that there was enough magic to power the float for a month, Roseate’s claim of an extra passenger draining her energies was a lie.
My jaw tightened. If I pointed this out, it would only lead to a slew of questions about how I knew so much about witches’ business.
I strolled to the bench and sat. “Go without me. I won’t risk straining your magic, so I’ll wait here. Ivan, can you ask Mr. Jankin to send me a float, please?”
Dragon Mage Academy Box Set Page 4