He scowled. “You were talking about me!”
“I was telling Fyrian Lacerta here that I had another cousin.”
The little fairy’s eyes widened at the sight of Fyrian. Then he flapped his golden, dragonfly wings. “Is that your dragon?”
“Dragons are people. You can’t own them.”
“Can I have it?” He pressed his palms together.
Fyrian snorted. “I should roar at him.”
“He’d probably like that.”
Chrysus shuffled his feet and said in a tone that could melt hearts, “Please may I have it?”
“No, but I can introduce you if you do me a favor.”
He folded his arms across his little chest and tilted his head to the side. In a more mature voice, he asked, “What do you want?”
My brows rose. His mind certainly didn’t work like that of a very young child.
“Could you call Prince Vanus for me, please?”
“Why?”
“I need to ask him a question.”
“What question?”
“It’s private.”
“Give me your dragon, and I’ll call Father.”
I ground my teeth. “Dragons aren’t things—”
“All right, then.” He gave his plump, little hand a dismissive wave. “I want a ride.”
“You’ll have to ask Fyrian.” I sent her a pleading look.
Fyrian let out a curl of smoke. “All right, but you have to sit with him.”
“She says she will let you ride if you call Prince Vanus and sit very quietly with me on the saddle.”
Chrysus grabbed my hand. In the blink of an eye, we both stood on Fyrian’s back. His outfit of white silk was now a replica of my uniform, and he also had a tiny knapsack on his back. I clenched my teeth. Aunt Cendrilla had told him countless times not to transport people without their consent, but Chrysus wasn’t the best listener.
“Sit still during the ride, okay?” I sat and hugged him to my chest.
His curly head bobbed up and down, releasing the scent of fresh wildflowers. I closed my eyes and inhaled. It reminded me so much of Mother.
“You’ll get to see her soon,” said Fyrian.
“I hope so,” I replied.
She stretched out her wings and leaped into the skies. Chrysus let out a giant whoop and raised both hands into the air. My own heart soared. Even though Fyrian flew at the lowest of altitudes because of the dome, my cousin’s exhilaration reminded me of when I’d first ridden her.
“Except this time, we don’t have an execution hanging over our heads.”
Chrysus leaned to the side and stared down at the palace. “Everything looks so small from up here. This is just like being a dragon rider.”
I bit my tongue. As a high fairy, he was capable of both flight and teleportation. Pointing this out would only lead to unpleasantness, so I gave him a hum of acknowledgment.
He leaned further to the side. Only my arm around his waist was keeping him from toppling over. “I want my own dragon!”
“Maybe you can make friends with one when you’re older.”
“If he could stop tormenting dragonets, he’d have a better chance,” muttered Fyrian.
“He’ll probably forget about this soon enough.”
We flew over what used to be Capital Market. Confused livestock stampeded over collapsed and crates. Irritation surged through my veins, and I clenched my teeth at the ruins. How many people’s livelihoods were destroyed because one brattish King wanted dragon eggs?
Chrysus waved his arms around. “Let’s fly to Elphame!”
“Do you want to help the dragons?”
He turned around, fixing me with his wide, green eyes. “Yes?”
“Someone stole their eggs.”
“Should I find—”
“No!” I took in several deep breaths. Chrysus could not get involved in this. No matter how much power he held in one little fist, a high fairy had weaknesses. Our grandfather, Prince Evander, was an example of a strong fairy who had been captured and imprisoned in fairy irons for over a year. Poor Chrysus would have no way of escaping King Magnar’s sisters if they had such a weapon. “Just call your father, please.”
“Boo!” He disappeared, leaving me with an armful of wildflower-scented air.
“Do you think he held up his end of the bargain?” asked Fyrian
“It’s hard to tell with him. Let’s land.”
No sooner had Fyrian’s paws hit the ground than Prince Vanus appeared. Unlike his son, his hair was straight and the exact color of the moon. He folded his arms, spreading out his silver wings. “I heard you needed to speak to me.”
I slid off Fyrian’s foreleg and landed on my feet. “All the eggs were stolen from Mount Fornax the day you took Aunt Cendrilla to Elphame. The witches found traces of fairy magic on a broken shell.”
His quicksilver eyes flashed. “And you think I took them?”
“No!” I held out my palm, revealing the shard of eggshell I’d taken from the royal carriage. “I need you to confirm the type of magic on the shell.”
He reared back, handsome face twisting with rage. “Who made a deal with one of those creatures?”
“Erm…” My heart accelerated. What was he talking about? “King Magnar of the Savannah Empire.”
“Give it here.” He shook his hand and a thick cloth appeared in his palm. When I dropped the eggshell into it, he said, “Every young fairy is taught that these beings work alongside a great evil. One so terrible, it cannot even be named. Do not go after them unless you want to be mutilated.”
“But the eggs—”
“Forget about them for now,” he snapped. “Whoever stole the eggs will keep them safe until the end of the war.”
“Wait, what do you mean? And which creatures?”
He shook his head. “I have said too much. Return to Mount Fornax and never speak of this again!”
“But I’ve made—”
Prince Vanus disappeared before I could even tell him about the deal I made with the sleeping dragons.
My shoulders slumped, and my chin fell to my chest. Not only had I helped King Magnar’s sisters escape with the eggs, I’d lost our biggest clue: the broken bit of shell. The witches could have escaped by boat or land, but it wouldn’t matter. We had no way to track them.
“There’s no point in calling Chrysus back,” Fyrian said. “Vanus doesn’t want you going after the eggs, so he won’t give you back the shell.”
Fyrian's shadow stretched over the empty space left by Prince Vanus. It perfectly reflected the state of my insides. A lump formed in my throat. I’d failed that poor hatchling, and I didn’t know how to fix things.
I shook my head. “We must have passed the eggs on the way to the palace and not even known they were close.”
“I know when it happened,” said Fyrian.
My head snapped up, and I stared into huge, crimson eyes that glowed like a blood moon. “When?”
“The ogre who beat up that human in public. That was pretty brazen of him to do it in front of the Dragon Defense Division, don’t you think?”
I nodded. Aunt Cendrilla had introduced a number of laws protecting innocent humans from ogre persecution. And the punishments for flouting them were severe. At the time, I’d been too wrapped up in the pursuit of justice to question why an ogre would risk his limb for such a senseless act.
“The human could have been paid to provoke him.” Fyrian raised her wing bones in a type of dragon-shrug. “We’ll never know.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. The witches obviously made their carriage invisible and masked their smell, otherwise someone would have sensed them on the road.” I rubbed the back of my head and sighed.
My plan to find the eggs had backfired. How in the Known World would we find them now?
Chapter 23
“Bluford!” shouted Niger from atop the yellow dragon. “We have found something.” He and the others flew down and landed around us in
the courtyard.
“What is it?”
Evolene cupped her hands around her mouth. “There’s a hole in the palace wall, glamoured to look solid.”
I nodded. That must have been how they’d reached the stables. I imagined that the eggs were in a fairy-enhanced container expanded on the inside, concealed scents, and made dragons eggs transportable. “Do the Militia witches know?”
“I showed it to a lieutenant,” she replied.
“Right.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Well done, everyone.” I relayed all I’d learned from the Witch General and Prince Vanus about the missing eggs. “But the worst part is that one of the eggs has hatched. If we don’t find the hatchling, it will die.”
“What if half of us searched the ships and the other half checked the roads?” asked Stafford from atop Fulmen.
“They might have taken a flying ship,” said Niger.
Evolene raised her hand. “Um… Steppe is the only country that uses those, and only a few Noble Houses have access to those vehicles. King Magnar came here via camelops.”
“We’d better split into two groups, then,” said Stafford.
I climbed onto Fyrian’s back. “Niger, you and the others search the ships for anything suspicious. I’m going back to Mount Fornax with Stafford and Evolene.”
Niger gaped. “But those sleeping dragons will roast you for failing!”
“Not if I arrive before sunset with a plan.”
“I don’t like this.” He shook his head.
“Neither do I,” said Stafford. “Master Fosco ordered you to flee to the United Kingdom of Seven if you couldn’t find the eggs. You’ve only got a little over two hours to complete your mission before the sleeping dragons take matters into their own claws.”
The other two drogott players broke out into protests. Everyone spoke over each other, including Evolene, who warned me not to go back. Fyrian remained silent, but through our bond, I felt anxiety bubbling in a stomach as wide as I was tall.
I held up a quelling hand. “Listen to me, everyone! There’s no telling how far the two witches have gotten with those eggs. I’m planning on ambushing them before they reach the border.”
“How will you find them if they’re invisible?” asked Niger.
“A-a strong enough artifact can disguise everything that makes them detectable,” said Evolene.
“Including hoof prints?”
She shook her head. “Actually, I collected a few of the shards from those awful coins that caused the riot. Can we talk through a few ideas about magic on the way back?”
“Umm…” I blinked hard. No witch had ever acknowledged my theoretical understanding of magic. “Yes. Sure.”
Stafford helped Evolene down from Fulmen’s back, and she walked across the courtyard to where I stood.
“The fastest way to reach the border is with a purple dragon’s teleportation. Let’s return to Mount Fornax as soon as we can.”
As soon as we had both settled on Fyrian’s back, she leaped into the air and flew across the capital. I wrapped an arm around Evolene’s waist and asked, “What was your idea?”
She ducked her head. “I-I lied so I could ride with you.”
A lead ball of disappointment rolled in my belly. So much for my notion of being a person respected for their knowledge of witch magic.
“Why do you care so much about witches when you’re a dragon mage?” muttered Fyrian.
“What’s wrong with Stafford?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Oh, nothing!” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “But I think he likes me.”
As we approached the glowing mesh of orange magic, Fyrian swooped down and then landed. She folded in her wings, walked through the hole in the wards, and leaped back into the sky.
It wasn’t until the afternoon sun made my eyes squint that I’d realized that we’d passed the locusts, and I hadn’t shuddered or panicked once. I still glared down at Evolene. “What’s wrong with Stafford? You’re both quarter-ogres, and he’s got good prospects. Are you avoiding him because he’s an orphan?”
“No.” Her narrow shoulders hunched around her ears. “I’m an orphan, too.”
I gulped. In my irritation, I’d forgotten that Father had executed her last surviving parent. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all defensive.”
Evolene’s shoulders lowered, and she released a long breath. Fyrian flew with vigor, whooshing through the air with every beat of her mighty wings. I pushed some power through our bond, and the landscape beneath us turned into a beige blur.
“I do like him,” Evolene said in a small voice.
“Oh?”
“But it’s too soon to court anyone.” She didn’t speak for a while, then added, “The palace sent me a letter asking whether I wanted Father’s ashes.”
I grimaced and stared at the sky. The sun edged toward the horizon. From the looks of its position, I guessed it was four o’clock. I’d liked Ivan a lot and thought I’d finally made a friend. But everything about him had been a fabrication, and everything, down to meeting him at Madam Skinner’s Military Outfitters, had been calculated to lure me into a grizzly fate.
“Think about the grizzly fate you’ll face if you don’t find those eggs,” muttered Fyrian.
“Ugh, you’re right.” I pushed even more power into our bond.
A satisfied growl reverberated in Fyrian’s neck, and she blew out a cloud of smoke before shooting forward. Her speed must have broken the enchantments on the saddle that protected us from the environment, because my stomach lurched. The wind roared in my ears and blew Evolene’s hair into my face.
“Sorry about this!” I shouted.
“I-it’s all right!” Evolene created a barrier for us to protect our eyes from the wind.
The pressure stopped, as did the noise, and my stomach relaxed. For someone who had been living under her a cruel and controlling father for so long, she was shaping up to be a brave witch.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” she said.
“Go on.”
“Why did they have to go to such lengths to steal the eggs?”
I clenched my fists. A little hatchling was scared and hungry because of King Magnar’s desire to own dragons. He had left the country on the brink of famine with their locust attacks and put the lives of witches in danger by making them attack the palace. It had been lucky that the Magical Militia had worked out the cause of the rebellion and taken control. Otherwise they would have been slaughtered by the Queen’s Guard and Father’s Sword of Lightning.
“I don’t care about his reason,” I said.
We reached Mount Fornax at around four-thirty. The sun hovered above the east hills, spreading its orange hue across the horizon. All seven of the sleeping dragons rested around the lake on their haunches. Most of the instructors had left, leaving behind a dozen regular-sized dragons glaring across the water at them.
The huge, purple dragon raised her head.
“She wants to know if you’ve found the eggs,” said Fyrian.
“Tell her I found where the thief hid them, but they’ve been moved. I know when the thieves moved them and where they’ll be. I only need the help of a purple dragon to reach the border mountains and set up an ambush.”
Fyrian gave me a sharp nod and relayed the message. Moments later, the massive purple dragon stood and stretched out her wings, creating a mighty gust of wind.
My throat dried. “I-is she volunteering?”
A smaller purple dragon reared up. He flew across the lake and roared at his larger counterpart. From the broken horn on his head, it had to be Fogo, Aunt Cendrilla’s dragon.
“Does he want to take us?” I asked.
“Yes. He’s telling her to wait.”
“And she’s listening to him?”
“Not exactly. She says she’ll leave the mountain with all her friends at sundown if you don’t return the eggs.”
I clutched my belly. An angry dragon was a terrifying
sight, and an angry, sleeping dragon made my bowels break out into spasms. At least she would stick to our agreement.
Fogo flew back across the lake and intertwined his tail with Fyrian’s. I clenched my teeth, waiting for the world to spin like it had when he’d snatched me off Fyrian’s back the week before.
I held on tight to Evolene. “Take deep breaths, close your eyes, and try not to pass out.”
With a little squeak, she nodded.
I squeezed my own eyes shut, and after the tumbling stopped, I opened them to find ourselves at the foothills of the border mountain range that separated Steppe and the Savannah Empire. A valley, wide enough for four carriages, bisected the mountains, providing the only passage between our countries.
“What now?” asked Fyrian.
“We wait.”
Fyrian lowered herself to the ground, and I helped Evolene to dismount. Fogo unwound his tail from Fyrian’s and settled himself on the road that led through the valley.
“Should we set up a camp?” asked Evolene.
I chewed my lip. “I don’t know.”
Fyrian stood. “I’ll fly around and find us something to eat.” She launched herself into the sky, bringing up massive swirls of dust. “I’ll shout if I see any suspicious hoof prints.”
Evolene and I stood side by side, gazing up at Fogo, who glared down at us as though we’d done something wrong. He might have been missing Aunt Cendrilla, but I suspected the heat in his eyes was his silent way to tell me I was wasting his time.
I shuffled my feet. “Look, I’m fifty percent sure they’re headed this way. The drogott team are checking the other route they could have taken out of the country. But if I was transporting dragon eggs with unstable dark magic artifacts, I wouldn’t risk putting them on a ship.”
He lowered his head, narrowing his amber eyes.
I took that to mean that he wanted me to elaborate. “They’d have to travel over the Cursed Sea and hope that a storm doesn’t hit.”
“And over the Wretched Sea,” added Evolene.
“Right.” I gulped. “And King Magnar boasted that he had a clutch of eggs in the Midas Islands. I suspect that’s where he wants to raise the dragons. It’s much easier to transport them over the tiny channel rather than over two sets of turbulent seas.”
Dragon Mage Academy Box Set Page 42