Fyrian snorted. “Imagine how well I slept, knowing that the villain who framed me has gotten away with murder.”
After using the chamber pot, I stood and pulled on the spigot. Warm water flowed out into the sandstone bowl. “Sorry.”
“What are you doing?” she screeched.
“Waking myself up.” I splashed water onto my face.
“There’s no time for looking pretty. I need you to check the murder scene before anyone arrives.”
“A-alright.” I smoothed out my hair and shuffled to the door. “But I’m coming back for a proper wash afterward.”
Fyrian didn’t reply, and I pulled the door open. Phoenix stood in front of me, fist raised to knock. He blinked then lowered his hand. “Bluford. Did you not hear me last night? We were supposed to meet at the mess hall by the first bell.”
“Make an excuse!” Fyrian hissed into my mind.
I scratched at my temples. “Sorry. Time runs a little differently in the United Kingdom of Seven.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Fyrian. “Tell him you need to go for a run or something.”
“One of the other boys will have to wake you until you get used to things in Steppe,” he replied. “Come along. The others are already in the Healer’s Academy. We’ll take a shortcut through the terraces.”
Fyrian’s growl reverberated in my head. “If you hadn’t fallen asleep, we would have gotten the chance to investigate the murder scene!”
I followed Phoenix out of the common room, through the hallways, until we reached a patch of terraces I’d never seen before. The scent of mint wafted from knee-high, leafy stems with violet flowers swaying in the breeze.
Phoenix stepped through the vegetation, only for two white dragonets to fly out.
I staggered back. “What?”
“These plants are dragon mint. Dragonets can’t resist the smell.”
“Oh.” I hurried past. If things got desperate, at least I knew where to find a messenger.
A number of stalls opened up into the terrace. Instead of an empty space like the stalls where Fyrian and the other green dragons dwelled, these were lined with perches, which I assumed were for dragonets.
After another few minutes of walking through the dragon mint terrace, Phoenix activated a staircase, and we reached the side of a walled compound that reminded me of the Magical Militia headquarters. I would have asked why the healers had fashioned it that way, but that would mean admitting to some familiarity with the Militia.
Phoenix pressed his hand on a side wall. A hole opened up and expanded so we could step through. “For future reference, that piece of magic only works for dragons and those in the dragon master program.”
I nodded and stepped through the wall into a lush garden of plants used for herbal remedies. “What do dragon masters do?”
“We’re the liaison between dragons and the outside world, I suppose.”
He headed down a stepping stone path toward a four-story, sandstone building. Rufus and Gobi stood at its wooden double doors, and Ivan sat on a nearby bench. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept. Stafford, who had been sitting next to him, shot to his feet and waved. The morning sun bounced off his caramel-colored hair, making it shine as enthusiastically as his smile.
“Healing Arts is taught here,” said Phoenix. “Most of our dragon healers are witches, but some males get to train in herbalism, surgery, and egg husbandry.”
I nodded, surprised at the amount of jobs that could revolve around dragons.
“Will we get to see the eggs today?” asked Stafford.
Phoenix smiled. “If you’re accepted into the Mage Academy, some classes will be taught alongside Healing Academy students. You’ll learn to take care of both eggs and hatchlings.”
The thought of learning more about dragons filled my chest with warmth. Even Rufus smiled. Very few people outside the Mount Fornax Dragon Sanctuary were permitted access to dragons, let alone their eggs.
Phoenix pressed his hand on the front door, which swung open into a black-and-white tiled hallway. Then we went into a spacious classroom with a long table at the back, laden with quills, parchment, and ink. The space in front was large enough to seat a dragon, and I wondered if the instructor would bring one of her patients to demonstrate dragon healing.
Roseate, the young witch from the Flying Float and the night before, stood in the corner, glaring at us through sullen, red-rimmed eyes. She held an even smaller staff, which made me assume she’d had her powers curtailed as a punishment for destroying Mr. Jankin’s body.
We were about to sit, when she moved the table and benches closer to the front. “Dr. Duclair says to sit here.”
I glanced at Ivan, who rolled his eyes. The others exchanged confused looks but walked to the front of the class and took their seats. I pursed my lips. If Roseate wasn’t happy about being in Mount Fornax, she had the option of going to the Magical Militia.
“Welcome to the Healing Arts!” A small witch about four-and-a-half feet glided into the room, her patchwork flying cloak spread out behind her. Her cloud of bright yellow hair made up about a quarter of her height. “It is wonderful to meet the next generation of Dragon Mages! My name is Elizabeth Duclair, and I run the Healing Academy. Can anybody tell me the three major methods of dragon healing?”
Everyone raised their hands, but Stafford spoke first, “Magic, herbalism, and surgery, Doctor!”
Dr. Duclair glided through the air to our table, brow furrowed. “Please raise your hand before speaking… Cadet?”
His cheeks turned pink, and he shrank into his seat. “Perrault, Doctor.”
Gobi snorted, and I shot him a filthy look.
“Which is used on the most regular basis?” The corner of her eyes crinkled when she smiled.
“Alba!” Fyrian’s voice made me jump.
“Umm…” Stafford rubbed his chin.
Rufus’ hand shot up, but he remained silent. I chewed the inside of my cheek. If this Academy consisted mostly of witches, then I supposed they’d use magic for most of the healing.
Dr. Duclair pivoted in mid-air and gestured at Rufus. “Yes… Cadet?”
“Griffon, Doctor,” he replied. “The two most used healing methods are herbalism and surgery.”
She nodded. “Why?”
“Dragonhide is resistant to witch magic,” he replied. “It would take the power of seven witches to dull a single dragon’s protections.”
“ALBA!”
I dropped my quill. ‘Huh?’
“Master Fosco is here.” Her voice shook with tears. “He’s brought a dozen witches to execute me!”
My heart exploded into action, and I jumped out of my seat. The bench crashed to the floor behind me. “What?”
Dr. Duclair tilted her head to the side. “Cadet…”
“Come quickly before they kill me!” she cried.
I bolted out of the room, down the hallway, across the courtyard and gates, to the edge of the mountain, and down the stairs. Phoenix shouted at me to stop, but I couldn’t. There was no time to explain. Fyrian would die, and I was the only one who could save her.
The journey across the terraces seemed interminable, and Fyrian screamed for me to hurry. My stomach twisted and spasmed. I didn’t know if that was caused by fear or by the witches’ attack seeping through our link, but I couldn’t stop to throw up. Any delay would lead to the death of an innocent dragon.
A bone-chilling roar shook my eardrums and made me stumble, but I picked up my pace and continued past stall after stall of green dragons. What were they doing to Fyrian?
At last, I reached her section of the terrace. A crowd of black-clad witches gathered on the grass outside Fyrian’s stall, shooting magic from their raised staffs.
I picked up my pace and screamed at the top of my voice, “Stop!”
The witches turned.
“She’s. Innocent.” I said between labored breaths.
“What is the
meaning of this?” Madam Maritimus stepped out from the crowd. The other witches stopped their stream of magic.
My steps slowed to a halt, and I bent over double trying to calm my breathing. “The dragon,” I repeated, each word a struggle. “She didn’t do it.”
The witch placed her hands on her hips, looking like a goddess of death with the sunlight streaming through her white hair and over her black, leather armor. “And I suppose you know the culprit?”
Shaking my head, I sucked in another breath. “The dragon said she didn’t do it.”
Master Fosco shoved his way through the crowd, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying. “What do you know, boy?”
“S-she… Fyrian-Lacerta bonded with me. She told me she didn’t burn Mr. Jankin.”
“Fyrian-Lacerta?” He raised his burgundy brows.
“That’s her name.”
Master Fosco stared into the pen. Fyrian cowered in the far corner, limbs quaking. He swallowed hard. “Dragons do not communicate telepathically with ogres.”
“B-but I have fairy blood.” The words slipped out, and I cringed. There were only four people in the Known World who were both ogre and fairy, and everyone in Steppe knew their identities.
“You are one of Rilla’s twins.” He peered into my face. “I see the resemblance.”
I clenched my teeth. The only people who called her that were her very closest of friends. Since he hadn’t asked me a direct question, I didn’t reply.
“Bluford!” shouted Phoenix from behind. “Why in the Known World did you run out of class?”
“The dragon told me she was being executed, and I had to do something to save her.” With Fyrian’s help, I explained how she had been the Queen’s messenger dragonet, who had expanded while over Mount Fornax. “She says she didn’t murder Mr. Jankin and was nowhere near his office on the day he died.”
Phoenix pursed his lips and turned to Master Fosco. “It might be an unlucky coincidence that I found her near Jankin’s skylight.”
My heart soared, and I exchange a hopeful look with Fyrian.
“But I accounted for the whereabouts of all dragons and dragonets.” Madam Maritimus folded her arms. “Fyrian-Lacerta was the only one in the proximity of the murder scene all day.”
Master Fosco furrowed his brows. “If there is another explanation—”
“Enough!” snapped Madam Maritimus. “The room was scorched by dragon fire, and only one dragon was at the scene of the crime. You’ve already tampered with evidence, and I will not allow you to pardon a dragon who broke the terms of the treaty!”
My stomach churned. I took those words to mean that she wouldn’t let him intimidate her into covering up the murder.
Master Fosco’s jaw flexed as though he was biting back some kind of retort. He turned to me, eyes softening. “We have protocols here, boy. Every dragonet knows the consequences for misusing their fire, and we cannot make exceptions. Since she has protested her innocence, I will delay the execution pending investigation.”
“Thank you!” cried Fyrian.
“Dr. Duclair will want to discipline Cadet Bluford for leaving her class without authorization,” said Phoenix.
Master Fosco gave me a sharp nod. “You have a verbal warning for disorderly conduct. One more misstep, and I will issue a written warning. If your behavior does not improve, you will be expelled!”
Chapter 13
Phoenix walked me back over the surface of the mountain to the Healer’s Academy building. We cut across the lawn, over a path of ground sandstone that crunched underfoot. As we passed the great lake, he murmured, “I worry about you, Bluford.”
“Why?”
“You haven’t been in Mount Fornax for a day, yet you’re already making a negative impression.”
“Yes, sir.” I stared at my feet, heart heavy. While I didn’t regret anything I’d done to help Fyrian, it did feel like the Magical Militia Academy all over again. The only difference was that this time, I was failing because of bad behavior, not because of a lack of ability. “I’ll apologize.”
“It won’t mean a thing if you don’t change your behavior. Some ogres aren’t suited for a regimented environment. You should think hard about whether you think you’ll be able to follow orders, because things won’t get easier.”
A sigh slid from my lips, and I didn’t reply. War heroes like Father and Aunt Cendrilla didn’t win the Great Dragon Revolution through obedience.
We continued in silence until we reached the healing classroom, where Dr. Duclair hovered in front of a whiteboard containing pictures of dragons in all stages of growth. She raised a thin eyebrow at me. “You have returned.”
“Yes, Doctor.” I cleared my throat. “It was wrong of me to have run out of your lesson, and I’m sorry for my rudeness and lack of decorum.”
Folding her arms, she glided across the classroom. Gobi snickered, and a soft snort came from the direction of Roseate’s corner. I imagined they both enjoyed my public humiliation.
“None of that matters,” said Fyrian. “How many of them can say they saved an innocent dragon’s life?”
I straightened and met the doctor’s gaze. Fyrian was right. Who wanted to be the person who waited for permission, knowing that an innocent dragon was about to be slaughtered.
“Very well. Take your seat.” Dr. Duclair scratched her fluffy, yellow hair. “Where were we?”
Roseate stepped forward. “You were talking about dragon lifespans before you were rudely interrupted, Doctor.”
I glided across the room and slid into the empty seat next to Ivan. The young witch could have her petty taunts. They were probably the highlight of her day.
“So far, no dragon has died of old age,” said the instructor. “However, as you will learn if you are selected for the Academy, the history of dragon kind stretches a mere millennium.”
Ivan raised his hand. “Can dragons extend their lives?”
She shrugged. “Until we know the natural lifespan of the noble creatures, we will not be able to answer that question. Dragons spend a considerable amount of time in states of hibernation. The first is during the egg phase.”
I pulled out my writing equipment and scribbled down notes. Dr. Duclair explained that when a full-sized dragon had absorbed a certain amount of magic, they entered a cocoon stage that could last centuries.
“Doctor!” asked Gobi. “Are dragons indestructible?”
She shook her head. “Most creatures have their weaknesses, I’m afraid. The biggest threat to dragons is dragonsbane, an inhumane poison that weakens their protective magic and causes considerable damage.”
The lecture continued in this vein, explaining the desperate attempts criminals had made over time to hurt dragons and harvest their organs for rituals and elixirs. My pen faltered when she got to the part where she described magical attacks. It was too close to the fate poor Fyrian had encountered with Madam Maritimus and her team.
Echoes of Fyrian’s anguished screams reverberated in my head, and I shuddered. Even though we’d delayed her execution, there was no guarantee anyone would carry out a real investigation of the murder.
At lunch, we all sat around a table in the back of the mess hall, next to a rowdy bunch of dragon riders. Everyone had to shout to be heard over the noise, but I couldn’t pay attention to my classmates, as I kept thinking about how Fyrian was nearly executed. The one-eyed chef with the giant eyepatch brought a giant platter of roasted ostrich, which took up most of the table. The kitchen had run out of stew, so he provided bowls of onion and ostrich broth for Ivan and me.
“I can’t believe they just assumed you killed Mr. Jankin because you were nearby,” I said to Fyrian in my head.
She let out a long sigh. “I’d only just made my first transformation, too. It was very disorientating, to have giant limbs and a new center of balance. I thought Phoenix was going to help me, but he put me in a pen.”
I glared across the mess hall at Phoenix, who sat with Evolene the rec
eptionist. The pair of them had their heads together, and it looked like Phoenix held her hand under the table.
Stafford nudged me in the arm, and I dropped my spoon into the broth. “Do you think Phoenix is courting her?”
“Huh?” I turned my glare to his cheerful face.
“It’s wonderful to be in the same class as Queen Cendrilla’s son! Will you be returning to the palace when assessment week is over?”
Rufus snickered. “Stop fishing for invitations.”
Stafford’s cheeks turned pink. “I wasn’t—”
“Wait.” Gobi leaned forward, pointed the drumstick end of his ostrich leg at me, and scowled. “You are a human Prince?”
Rufus frowned. “We do not use human as an insult in Steppe. All of us here have human fathers, including you.”
Gobi gnashed at his drumstick, glowering as if it was me who had reprimanded him and not Rufus. I suppose he thought I was an easy target due to my smaller stature.
“What happened back in the Healing Academy?” asked Ivan. “Phoenix and Dr. Duclair were livid.”
The waiter balanced a side plate of onion bread on the edge of the table between Ivan and me. The sweet aroma of caramelized onions made my mouth water. Mother hadn’t brought me up eating meat, but I did taste it on the rare occasions Father returned to the mountain to dine with us. I broke off a piece of bread, dipped it in the ostrich broth, and explained what had happened earlier in the day.
We had a whole afternoon of dragon riding after lunch, and Captain Caiman gave us another opportunity to ride Rubens. Rufus, who had ridden with his brother the dragon mage, performed his flight with the rapier red the best. Stafford, who revealed that he’d visited Mount Fornax on several occasions with the orphanage, also succeeded in controlling the dragon.
While Gobi didn’t cry during his ride, he did throw up. Poor Ivan fainted and had to lie on the sandstone for the rest of the lesson. When it was my turn, Rubens didn’t act up. He’d probably heard through the dragon vine about what I had done for Fyrian. By the end of the lesson, Captain Caiman told Rufus, Stafford, and me that we had a place in his Dragon Riding Academy if we failed to become mages.
Dragon Mage Academy Box Set Page 11