Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  “FYRIAN!” I screamed into my mind.

  She cut off the flames and turned her crimson gaze to me.

  “Can you calm down for a minute? I’ve got a plan.” I reached into my knapsack and pulled out a stone.

  “What is it?” she asked in a voice choked with tears.

  “I still have the gravestone I took from Master Fosco’s office. It might be powerful enough to break the barrier.”

  She let out a fiery gasp, walked to the entrance of her pen and lowered her head, staring at me with glistening, crimson eyes. “You’d set me free?”

  A pang of guilt lashed at my heart. She’d said that like I was her jailor. I probably had been, in a way. By refusing to contact Aunt Cendrilla, I’d condemned her to the Magistratus’ ruling. I pressed the stone into the invisible barrier, and it melted a hole big enough for one of her paws.

  “It’s not working!” she cried.

  “Hold on. Let’s think about this,” I replied.

  “This is hopeless.” She pulled her paw out of the hole.

  “Remember what everyone said about dragons being resistant to witch magic?”

  “What about it?”

  “I think it’s because most dragons have absorbed fairy magic,” I said.

  Fyrian snorted. “I was only in the realm of the fairies as an egg.”

  “But you’ve absorbed one of the most potent forms of magic all your life.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “Think about it. You were always perching on Aunt Cendrilla’s throne or her shoulder, and don’t tell me little Chrysos didn’t play with you whenever he popped in from the realm of the fairies. They’re two of the most powerful beings in the Known World.”

  “What’s that got to do with escaping?” she asked.

  “Maybe if you put the gravestone in your mouth, it might turn your flames into something that can negate the barrier.”

  She didn’t reply for several moments, but I sent an image of the two of us flying to freedom over the scrubland, and she gave me a sharp nod. I pressed the gravestone to the barrier and slipped my hand into the widening gap.

  Fyrian opened her mouth, and I slipped the stone under her smooth, warm tongue.

  “Back away,” she said into my mind.

  I ran back and glanced over my shoulder. A stream of green flames billowed out from her stall. Fyrian stuck her massive head out of its opening. In the late afternoon light, her scales shone like polished jade. She tilted her head toward me, fixing me in her burning, crimson gaze.

  My breath caught. As a dragonet, she had been beautiful, but now, she was magnificent. Quadruple the size of Rubens and with a noble air that made me think of the lush, green forests of Mount Bluebeard.

  She pushed out the gravestone with her forked tongue, and it thudded onto the long grass. Then, she pulled her lips back into a massive grin of foot-long fangs. “It worked.”

  My heart soared, and I rushed into her pen, ignoring the heat from the sandstone floor seeping through the soles of my boots. Fyrian lowered her belly to the floor, and I climbed up her forelegs, using the long, scale-covered horns around her head for balance.

  Every vertebra that made up her spine was notched with sharp ridges, but distanced enough to provide me with space to sit. I wedged myself between the nearest ridges to her wings. Fyrian’s wingbones lay closer to her forelegs compared to Rubens, giving me somewhere to rest my feet.

  Once I’d settled myself, she tilted her head to the side. “Didn’t you bring a saddle?”

  “I couldn’t risk being caught sneaking about with all those witches wanting to break our bond.”

  “All right.” Fyrian raised her head. “Hold tight.”

  Without a saddle or reins, this was going to be difficult. I wrapped each hand around two of curved horns protruding from the back of her head and gripped hard. “I’m ready.”

  Despite her thick covering of scales, I could still feel her muscles contract with each step. Her ribs, which lay under my legs, moved with every slow breath, and the thud of her heart reverberated through me like it was my own pulse.

  A rush of emotion filled my chest and brought tears to my eyes. Before this moment, she had just been a voice in my head. But feeling her like this, experiencing her jubilation through our bond was more than I could ever have imagined.

  “I feel it too.” Her voice was filled with breathy awe. “Let’s go.”

  I tightened my thighs around her neck, and she perched her claws over the terrace’s rocky edge. The level beneath us was about a thirty-foot drop, and beneath that were rows upon rows of terraces, stretching out hundreds of feet. This would be easy.

  Fyrian crouched back on her hind legs, and the small of my back pressed into one of her horned ridges. Then she unfurled her wings and leapt. My stomach followed seconds later, and I clamped my lips shut. Then the wind roared in my ears and rushed into my eyes, making me squint. Without even a thin speed saddle, there was nothing protecting me from the elements.

  Behind us, all the green dragons in the stalls let out roars of triumph.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Fine. Keep going!” I turned around, just to keep the wind out of my eyes and blinked to get them moist again.

  The seaweed-colored dragon from Fyrian’s terrace soared out of its pen. Then another one with scales the color of moss flew out. One by one, the green dragons left their pens and flew in formation around us.

  “What are they doing?” I asked.

  “They all know I’m innocent, and they’re congratulating me for escaping.”

  “Oh.” I smiled at the beautiful, green dragons.

  We soared over the mountainside, flanked by the other dragons. Because of the way Mount Fornax had been constructed with wide, curving terraces on its south side, there was a lot of ground to cover before we reached the sprawling meadows ahead.

  The afternoon sun shone from behind luminescent, white clouds that hung over the mountain. Warm rays of sunshine hitting the landscape brought out vibrant shades of green I’d never seen anywhere in Steppe.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  My chest tightened. “I should have helped you much earlier.”

  “Now that I’m no longer cooped up in that stable, I understand what you were talking about. You didn’t want to lose your freedom, and you were scared of being sent to the Savannah Empire.”

  “Yes,” I said, “but—”

  “I should have understood that. Sorry for giving you such a hard time.”

  “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I should have worked harder to get you free the moment they tried to execute you.”

  We continued through the territory until the greenery around us became sparse.

  “Why are they turning back?”

  “Because of the wards,” she replied. “Unaccompanied dragons aren’t allowed outside the Mount Fornax region.”

  “Right.” It made sense. Even seventeen years after the Great Dragon Revolution, it was still a special treat to see a dragon rider and a topic of excited conversation to see a group of them.

  Fyrian’s wingbeats quickened, and for a moment, it was like she was hovering in mid-air.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “The air’s almost solid.” She flapped harder and managed to advance a few yards further.

  The memory of Roseate and the flying float getting stuck in the barrier tumbled to the forefront of my mind, and my eyes shuttered closed. “Flap harder. This place is warded against fairies, and we might have triggered some kind of alarm.”

  Chapter 20

  Fyrian’s wings sliced through the air faster and faster, creating powerful gusts that blew hair into my eyes. I ducked my head to protect my vision. We had to get through this barrier at all costs. How could I have forgotten that the dragon sanctuary had been warded against fairies?

  I had a plan. We would fly to Mount Bluebeard, the most heavily guarded Noble House, and I’d bargain with the
elves living within the mountain to create a habitat for Fyrian. They’d hide her from the Magistratus and the witches, then we could find the real killer and clear her name.

  “The barrier’s getting stronger,” she said.

  “What if I got off and you left the dragon sanctuary on foot?”

  “Dragons can’t leave without a rider, remember? I’d be trapped.”

  The wind roared in my ears. “Oh yes, you said… We need to do something to convince the wards that I’m not a threat. Try covering me with smoke.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know! Maybe I’m giving off some kind of high fairy scent.”

  Fyrian opened her jaws and let out a plume of grey smoke. The beating of her wings blew it away.

  “We need more.”

  Darker, thicker smoke wafted out from the sides of her mouth and burned the back of my throat. I coughed, eyes watering, and let go of her horn to wipe at my eyes.

  “Be grateful I’m not a yellow dragon,” she muttered. “Their smoke is deadly.”

  “Wha—”

  “It worked!” Fyrian shot forward and soared into the skies.

  I grabbed at the nearest horn for balance, gulping lungfuls of air and blinking tears out of my eyes. “Y-you did it!”

  “Thanks to you,” she said.

  I would have slumped back in relief if one of her ridges wasn’t poking into my spine. Fyrian must have sensed my discomfort, because she dipped her head and flew parallel to the ground. A dry, wind blew around us, and I was thankful this one didn’t carry any dust.

  The azure skies outside the Mount Fornax territory were devoid of clouds, as though agricultural witches had gathered all the moisture from the east of Steppe and concentrated it over the dragon sanctuary. Dry grasslands and shrubs, a landscape of beige and olive and ochre, spread out for leagues.

  Since Fyrian’s flying had evened out to a gentle glide, I let go of the ridges and rested my hands on the smooth scales at the base of her neck.

  “This is the first time I’ve flown as a full dragon,” she said.

  “What’s it like compared to being a dragonet?” I asked.

  She let out a smoky, sulfur-scented sigh. “I’m in control now. Before, I had to dodge through breezes, trying not to get pulled off course. Now it feels like I’m the one affecting the winds.”

  I released a hum of understanding and turned my gaze upwards, letting the sun warm my face. Now that both the Witch General and Magistratus knew of my location, they would tell Father. Perhaps the elves would offer me a hiding place in exchange for a future favor. Despite my desire to help Fyrian, I still didn’t want to end up in the clutches of King Magnar.

  Soon, the walled compound of a Noble House came into view. Beyond it stretched the Sandbrick Road, its rough, golden texture stretching out to the horizon.

  “We’re flying west.” I patted her on the scales. “Mount Bluebeard is south-west!”

  “I’m going to see Auntie Rilla. You can explain to her what happened, and she’ll clear my name.”

  “But you’re asking me to go to the palace!”

  “If she isn’t there, you can call her. Fairy godmothers can hear their children wherever they are in the Known World.”

  I clenched my teeth. “That only works when we’re in peril.”

  “When your sire finds you disguised as a boy, you’ll be panicked enough to summon her.”

  “And what if he sends me away to King Magnar?”

  “I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. You thought the elves at Mount Bluebeard would be helpful.”

  I balled my fists. She’d heard my plans all along and had decided to ignore them to carry out a solution that suited her. “We can’t go to Aunt Cendrilla!”

  She glided over the road. “And you can’t be serious about hiding me in your father’s lands. Someone will notice a dragon flying about and they’ll try to execute me again.”

  My shoulders sagged, and I blew out a frustrated breath. She was right. I hadn’t thought anything through, but I’d been desperate to save Fyrian from the Magistratus’ ruling. “You can at least—”

  “Bluford!” an amplified, female voice pierced the air.

  A dozen red dragons flew out from behind a distant hill. I choked. “How did they get here so quickly?”

  “I’m surprised they didn’t catch up with us sooner. When we struggled with the wards, it must have alerted the security witches.”

  My mouth went dry, and I rubbed my throat. “Red dragons are supposed to be the fastest of all colors.”

  “True,” she replied, “but if you complete your side of the bond, that will boost my speed.”

  “Won’t the riders be faster?”

  “Those are witches. They can’t bond with dragons.”

  “All right. Tell me what to do.”

  Fyrian guided me through an exercise, where I had to close my eyes and focus on her inner voice. It was something General Thornicroft had taught his mages in later lessons. It felt like swimming in a pool of black, and my heart was hammering so loud, I could barely focus on her words, but I forced myself to listen. Eventually, a tiny flame flickered in the darkness.

  “That’s you!” I exclaimed.

  “Swim toward it.”

  I paddled closer to the flame. It grew in heat and light and intensity, just like Fyrian’s emotions when she was upset, but it was something I needed to do. If the dragons caught up with her, she would be executed, and a part of me would die with her.

  The only way I could describe joining with her was like floating through fire, burning myself and coming out remade. When I finally opened my eyes, everything was sharper and even the colors looked more vibrant. “I’m seeing out of your eyes.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’ll turn around.”

  The red dragons accelerated toward us at an alarming rate, and I gulped. “Will you be able to outrun them now?”

  Fyrian’s head moved back. She sucked in a massive gust of air, and the muscles beneath my thighs warmed. Then, she sliced through the air with her mighty wings, propelling herself forward.

  Wind howled between my ears, and my insides jerked. I cringed and held onto Fyrian’s horns. She wasn’t quite as fast as a rapier red, but when I turned around, she had widened the distance between us and the red dragons.

  Streams of light flew over us, to our sides, and above. I supposed the witches realized they couldn’t match our speed and decided they would subdue us with magic.

  “Fyrian,” I shouted. “I’m going to sit backward, so you can see what they’re doing from my eyes.”

  “Be careful!”

  As she sped forward, I let go of her horns and switched my grip to the spine ridges in front and behind. All around me, the landscape was a blur of beige. I clenched my teeth, steeled my stomach and hoisted one leg over the front ridge, so I was sitting side saddle. A beam of magic grazed my hair, and I ducked, gripping onto her tight.

  “Don’t move,” she said.

  “Why—”

  Fyrian dipped her wing to swerve a magical attack, and l lurched backward. A scream ripped from my throat, and even though my spine and head fell back I didn’t slip off her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Y-yes.”

  “Why did you scream, then?” she asked.

  “I thought I was going to fall off.”

  “You’re wearing dragon armor!” she snapped.

  “W-what?” My stomach spasmed. A huff of air escaped my lungs, and I clamped my lips shut and exhaled through my nose.

  She huffed. “How do you think Auntie Rilla stands on Fogo without falling off?”

  “I thought it was her special magic.”

  “No.” Fyrian rolled. “The armor is enchanted so that you can’t slip off by accident.”

  “But you told me to be careful earlier when I didn’t have a saddle.”

  “Because I didn’t want you to
throw up over me like Ivan did on Rubens!”

  A lattice of light appeared around us, and I turned around to glare at the witches. They’d all put their power together to create some kind of magical barrier, and it was closing in around us all.

  “Cadet Bluford, you will land that dragon at once!” shouted Madam Maritimus.

  “Is she still under an order of execution?” I shouted back.

  She didn’t reply, but the witches spread out, circling us and pointing their staffs as though coordinating a single attack.

  “Do you see the ones in steel breastplates?” asked Fyrian.

  I scanned the witches surrounding us. “Yes.”

  “They’re dragon tamers.”

  My chest tightened. Dealing with witches was going to be bad enough, but those with experience in catching wild dragons would be unbeatable. I thought about what I knew of red dragons. They had the most prolific flames and could outfly most of their peers. But would they side with the witches against an innocent dragon?

  Madam Maritimus pointed her staff. “Land or we’ll be forced to attack.”

  A jolt of fear lanced my heart. What did I know about green dragons? They had keener vision than most, their flames weren’t as hot as reds, but they were the only ones that produced a flammable venom that could burn through nearly anything when set alight.

  “Spit out your venom,” I said.

  She reared back. “That would be awful!”

  “Not at the dragons. Spit it down into the net.”

  “I’m not sure… Tamers would know how to deal with flammable venom attacks.”

  “Try it.” I glanced to the right, where Madam Maritimus was making hand signals to the other witches. “We’ve merged powers, right? So your fire will contain more fairy magic.”

  Fyrian’s throat rumbled. The red dragons drew back, jaws clamped shut. They probably knew what would happen next. If any of Fyrian’s venom touched their scales, it would mean immolation at the first spark of fire.

  “Ready?” she said into my head.

  I held tighter onto her spine ridges, pressing my forearms into her scales, to activate the magic of my dragon armor. “I’m ready.”

  She tilted her head down and spewed out a wash of lime-green liquid that had the sweet, menthol aroma of Eucalyptus. I leaned back, watching her venom run through the magical grid.