Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  There was nothing left for an illegitimate daughter like me, and I doubted Father would hand over any of his vast wealth to a brother he’d never even met. But I couldn’t risk my disguise by explaining this or add fuel to the rumors that I was Aunt Cendrilla’s son with Uncle Armin, so I kept quiet.

  Stafford rubbed his chin. “Wait a minute… If you’re the Prince Regent’s younger brother, wouldn’t that make you Princess Alba’s uncle?”

  I sent my best friend a grateful look. We’d already had a conversation about Gobi, and he knew that the young ogre-hybrid was at best exaggerating his connection to Father.

  Mutterings broke out around us, and Stafford continued. “Not even the Prince Regent would be allowed to break the Law of Consanguinity.”

  I nodded. Ogres were particular about who they allowed to consort with whom. Even first-cousin marriages were against the law.

  “Well.” Gobi took a long drag from his empty tankard. “I am not really…”

  Disgruntled chatter broke out. It was clear to everyone that Gobi was a fraud. I didn’t even need to say a word. I nudged Stafford under the table with my foot, and he nudged me back.

  “Attention, gentlemen!” shouted a voice at the other side of the room.

  The crowd turned around. Master Fosco stood at the other end of the room with King Magnar.

  “Thank you to everyone who contributed toward the battle against the locusts. Madam Maritumus and her team confirms that every last locust is dead.”

  Cheers broke out around the room, and I clapped.

  Master Fosco raised his hands. “A larger calamity has befallen Mount Fornax, and I will need the help of every able-bodied male, witch and dragon.”

  Everyone straightened.

  “At some time between the lowering of our wards and the battle of the locusts, one or more individuals broke into the incubator.”

  Shouts of outrage filled the room. My own nostrils flared, and I glowered at Master Fosco. The culprit was standing next to him!

  Master Fosco raised his palms and had to shout to be heard over the crowd. “They stole every single egg on the mountain!”

  King Magnar’s face remained impassive, as if he hadn’t orchestrated the robbery. I ground my teeth. He might be a good liar, but the young witches standing behind him didn’t demonstrate any of their usual exuberance. The youngest one, who looked about eight or nine, crept closer to the eldest sister.

  “A contingent of mages are helping the Magical Militia and the witches of Bluebeard to rid Steppe of locusts and their remnants. However, teams of riders, witches, and mages will scour the country in search for the stolen dragon eggs.”

  “Yes sir!” everyone shouted.

  “What about cadets?” asked someone from the drogott team.

  “Cadets will remain in Mount Fornax for lessons. If any cadet wishes to search the territory for eggs, they may do so outside classroom hours.”

  I slumped. There was no point in learning about dragons if they were all about to revolt. We needed to find those eggs, and our biggest clue was standing beside Master Fosco, acting like he wasn’t obsessed with the care and hatching of eggs.

  “Temporary accommodations have been assigned to all those who visited the opening ceremony. Until we have conducted thorough magical searches on each individual, no one may leave Mount Fornax.”

  I nodded. That explained why King Magnar was still here, but I thought they would have put him in a royal tent or something equally as regal.

  “To that end,” said Master Fosco, “I would like to induct a temporary student to the Dragon Academy. Please welcome King Magnar of the Savannah Empire, who will join our new intake of dragon mages until the search is complete.”

  Stafford leaned into me and whispered. “Master Fosco is talking about our class!”

  Chapter 7

  I slumped in my seat staring from an excited Stafford to a smug-looking King Magnar. He stood, chin raised, among the crowd of warriors, rocking back on his heels as though bracing himself for an outpouring of cheers and applause. The butterflies in my stomach shuddered at the thought of being in close quarters again with that wretched King.

  “Didn’t you say you thought he stole the eggs?” said Fyrian. “Now’s your chance to watch him!”

  I kicked Stafford under the table and flicked my head toward the exit. “You’re right, but I’d prefer to observe him from afar.”

  As classes were canceled for the day, Stafford and I left before Phoenix could bring King Magnar over to our table. We spent the rest of the day with Fyrian, helping the witches inspect the grounds and tunnels for locust eggs. Stafford and I made a pact to stick together and avoid King Magnar during his stay at the Dragon Academy.

  The first class of the next day was History of Dragons, taught in one of our lecture theaters with a transparent wall. It overlooked a cave in the mountain’s interior. Transparent stalactites hung like chandeliers over a pool of shimmering, ultramarine water. Blue and purple dragonets of all shades flew around the space, illuminated by streaks of sunlight filtering through the rock.

  Rufus, Gobi, Stafford, and I were the first to arrive, and we took our places in the middle of the class. I made sure to sit at the end of the row with Stafford, so as to avoid Gobi.

  “Morning, lads!” Five riders whose cadet uniforms were edged in red leather joined us. They were all bulky half-ogres wearing roguish grins.

  Next to arrive were healer cadets with white edging on their uniforms. They were a mix of males and witches who carried full-sized staffs. Once they’d taken their seats, even more students entered.

  “I thought it would only be us and the riders,” I whispered to Stafford.

  Rufus leaned across Gobi. “History of Dragons is relevant to all seven academies. My brother says Master Roopal prefers to teach the whole year together.”

  “What are all the colors?” I pulled out my writing supplies and placed them on the table.

  He tapped the piping on his lapel. “Mages are burgundy, as you know. Riders are red, healers are white.” He turned around to look at the other students. “I cannot see any apprentice Masters, but they wear silver on their lapels. Grooms wear green, tamers bronze, and witches wear navy blue.”

  The last set of entrants included Evolene, who took her place in the front with a trio of witches I’d never seen before. Stafford craned his neck, presumably to catch a glimpse of her in breeches, and I gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs.

  “Oof!” He flinched. “What was that for?”

  “Welcome to the Dragon Academy!” Boomed a voice from the back of the room. It belonged to an older male with a slight build and silvery-blue hair tied into braids that reached his chest. If it wasn’t for his vivid, cyan eyes, I would have guessed he was human.

  “I am Master Roopal, the custodian of Mount Fornax’s historical archives. Who among you have visited the library?”

  Rufus’ hand shot up. The only other person who raised theirs was Evolene.

  “The archives are located adjacent to the library, which is on this level of the mountain.”

  I scribbled down this piece of information.

  “According to most, the history of dragons spans no more than a few decades, when the first dragons made their appearance in the mountains of Volcania.” Master Roopal strode to a map of the Known World and pointed at a massive island in the south-west.

  I nodded. Mother told me that she had travelled the Known World looking for Aunt Cendrilla, who had been stolen by their father, Prince Evander of the fairies. That’s how she’d met Father. They’d both been sent by their respective monarchs on the same mission to find the lost Princess.

  According to Mother, Volcania was overrun by small, red dragons, who plagued the lives of the local warriors. I supposed those had been rapier reds.

  “This is untrue,” said Master Roopal. “The history of dragons spans a thousand years to the days of—”

  The door slammed open. I turned, as did everyone else
in the classroom.

  King Magnar strolled in, clad in the same brown, leather armor as us, and with two witches on each side. They wore the same navy uniform as the security witches on Mount Fornax, except with smiling suns on their breastplates.

  Master Roopal frowned. “Your Majesty, classes begin at eight in the morning.”

  King Magnar waved a hand. “My apologies. It took some time to outfit us in dragon-proof armor.”

  “Very well.” The instructor pointed at a space in the front row, next to Evolene and the other witches. “Please take your seats.”

  King Magnar’s entourage hurried to the front and shuffled down the seat to be close to the older witches. Each of them opened their knapsacks and pulled out their writing equipment.

  “That’s my seat.” King Magnar stood beside Stafford.

  Stafford raised his chin. “Why?”

  “Who else is suitable to be my classmate but Prince Robert of the United Kingdom of Seven?”

  I clenched my teeth. “I’m not the Prince!”

  “Of course not. You just look like the twins on the official portrait.” He narrowed his eyes at Stafford. “Now, get out of my seat, unless you wish to offend a King.”

  “Your Majesty,” said Master Roopal. “Rank has no bearing in this brotherhood. Seat yourself in the front with your companions.”

  King Magnar’s face twisted. “Master Fosco told me I could experience the Academy for the duration of my detention here. Are you going against his edict?”

  “It’s all right.” Stafford stood. “I’ll go.”

  Gobi, who sat on the other side of Rufus, leaned across, cobalt eyes glimmering. I stood. He was welcome to make friends with the spoiled King.

  “Prince Robert?” said King Magnar.

  I clenched my teeth. “It’s Bluford. Albert Bluford.”

  “It’s all right,” he replied in a loud whisper. “Everyone knows you’re not really a commoner.”

  Stafford hurried to the front of the room and sat next to the four witches, who giggled and shot him admiring looks. The tallest of them leaned into him and introduced herself. His cheeks turned the color of poppies.

  “Now that you have the seat you wanted, please stop interrupting my class!” Master Roopal’s eyes flashed.

  My throat went dry, and a warning Phoenix gave to me echoed through my ears. During my induction week, I’d offended practically every instructor in the academy and gotten myself expelled for an array of behaviors that would have earned me a flogging at the Magical Militia. I couldn’t begin my first day as a cadet disobeying orders, so I lowered myself into my seat.

  King Magnar bumped me on the shoulder. “Pleased to meet you… Albert.” He snickered, as though my false name was a joke. “Isn’t this fun? I’ve never been to school before.”

  “No talking in the class,” snapped Master Roopal.

  The words were so sharp, we all jolted to attention.

  “As I was saying before the interruption, the history of dragons spans back approximately a millennium ago. Can anyone tell me what major events occurred during that time?”

  “Wasn’t the Snow Queen around in those days?” asked one of the witches in the front.

  “Indeed. Back then, she was a benevolent dictator, who had just conquered the Midas Islands. Anything else?”

  “King Tyrannosaurus ruled Steppe,” said Rufus.

  “Correct. What else?”

  I shrugged adding, “Fairies visited the Known World.”

  “Precisely.” Master Roopal wrote those words on a board. “Unlike the Known World, where monarchs die or are deposed, the realm of the fairies is constant. It was and still is ruled by the Queen of the Fairies.”

  Stafford raised his hand. “Isn’t that Queen Cendrilla’s grandmother?”

  “Indeed. One would think that a monarch with absolute power would have no threats to her throne, but for millennia, the realm of the fairies consisted of two factions. Elphame, ruled by the Queen, and Vanheim, ruled by its King.”

  I leaned forward, eyes wide. I’d never heard of a King of the Fairies.

  “A millennium ago, the monarchs joined forces to create an heir to unite both Kingdoms. This led to the birth of Prince Evander.”

  “Your grandfather,” whispered King Magnar.

  I ducked my head. That part was a hundred percent true. Mother and Aunt Cendrilla shared the same father, but while my maternal grandparents were low fairies from a clan that could transform into bluebirds, Aunt Cendrilla’s mother was the Queen of the Ogres.

  “The newborn son had the traits of his mother: golden hair with golden wing veins. Most importantly, Prince Evander favored her and disdained his father. Rumors started that the Queen made this infant son from her rib and not from her union with the King.” Master Roopal paused, as though giving us time for the weight of his words to register.

  I caught Stafford’s eye and grimaced. Mother had never shared this story with me, and I couldn’t see how it connected with dragons.

  Master Roopal continued. “The King was not satisfied with his heir and decided to take control of both realms for himself.”

  “How?” King Magnar folded his arms.

  “Through the production of a living weapon. An obedient servant resistant to magic and who wielded the deadliest of weapons.”

  “Dragons,” he whispered.

  “Exactly!” he raised the finger of his right hand. “The King siphoned the atmospheric magics and forced them into a Megalania lizard. He added the essence of volcanic chaos to produce the first dragon.”

  Gasps filled the classroom.

  “What color was it?” asked King Magnar.

  “Gold. Much like the coloring of the wife and son he despised.”

  “Did he destroy it?”

  Master Roopal shook his head. “He created another, this time with liquid gravestone to temper the chaos, and bred the dragons, experimenting with the elements of the Known World.”

  He turned around and wrote the following words on the board.

  Fire

  Metal

  Earth

  Water

  Wood

  Air

  Aether

  “Each infusion produced a different type of dragon. Now, I want you to discuss in pairs which element produced which color of dragon.”

  I leaned across King Magnar to speak to Rufus. “Should we work—”

  “Prince Robert. Sorry…” He smirked. “Albert is working with me.”

  My lips pressed together. He was irritating even when he was trying to be friendly. I copied down the elements and turned to King Magnar. “Any suggestions?”

  He rested his hand behind his head. “You’re the dragon expert. Complete the assignment, and I will present it.”

  “I suppose that’s fair. Some people are made for taking the credit of others. You must be one of them.”

  His face darkened. “What did you say?”

  “Shall I write it down for you?” I muttered.

  I jotted down my answers:

  Fire - Red

  Metal - Gray

  Earth - Black

  Water - Blue

  Wood - Green

  The last two were tricky, as these elements didn’t have colors, and they meant almost the same thing. I supposed that air was what we breathed, and aether was whatever existed above the skies. Some nights, the sky appeared a purple so dark, it looked black. I scribbled down the rest of the assignment.

  Air - Yellow

  Aether - Purple

  King Magnar looked over my shoulder. “Why are you writing that?”

  “Those are the colors of the elements,” I replied.

  “It can’t be that simple,” he snapped. “Give me that quill.”

  I twisted my body away from him. “Get your own.”

  Master Roopal cleared his throat. “Work in pairs, cadets.”

  King Magnar smirked and crossed out all my answers, writing his own. I shook my head. He’d written th
at fire dragons were yellow and metal dragons were black. There was no point in telling him they were wrong when Master Roopal’s corrections would be more humiliating.

  He held up his parchment. “We’ve finished.”

  Master Roopal stared at him from across the room. “I told you to discuss the assignment in pairs.”

  “What does it matter if we have the right answers?”

  I groaned and shuffled away from him. He was such an idiot.

  King Magnar cleared his throat. “Now that I’m at the top of the class, I have a few questions.”

  “Indeed?” The instructor raised his brows, folding his arms across his chest. It was only then that I noticed his left forearm was missing.

  “That Fairy King. Did he have a name?”

  “He did.”

  “What was it?”

  “Speaking the name of a powerful fairy summons him or her from anywhere in the world, both known and unknown.”

  I nodded. The whole family had learned the hard way not to speak Chrysus’ name out loud. While most fairies ignored their summons, my little cousin often popped to see who was talking about him.

  “Very well,” said King Magnar. “What happened to the King?”

  “That story will unfold in subsequent history lessons,” replied Master Roopal.

  “But I won’t be around for long enough. I want to know what happened to him, now.”

  The instructor snarled, and everybody stopped talking.

  King Magnar clenched his fists. “The Director, Master Fosco told me I could enjoy the facilities of Mount Fornax for the duration of my stay. We all know that holding a monarch against his will is an act of war, but I’ve graciously agreed to remain here until you find your eggs.” He leaned forward. “Now, tell me how the King was defeated.”

  “Very well.” Master Roopal shrugged. “The Queen’s forces captured one of his spriggans and twisted its will so it would betray its master.”

  “Spriggans?”

  “Creatures he created from stolen children to do his bidding.”

  I gulped. Mother had mentioned tales of Aunt Cendrilla rescuing babies stolen in the United Kingdom of Seven. She’d never wanted to explain what had been done to them.