Next to him sat Master Solum, the dark-skinned male with the long, black braids, who had supervised my day of dung-shoveling. A wave of relief washed over my heated skin, loosening the pressure around my lungs. These were two people I hadn’t managed to offend in the short time I’d been a cadet at Mount Fornax.
At his other side, Master Klauw leaned forward, resting his chin on both hands. Shoulder-length, ginger hair and a dusting of freckles covered a face that seemed to belong to a fourteen-year-old human boy. He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips with disapproval.
“G-good morning,” I said.
Master Fosco grunted. He stood against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.
I glanced around for signs of any other instructors. “Where’s General Thornicroft?”
“This is a special meeting of the Council of Dragons.” Master Fosco gestured at a low, wooden bench. “Sit.”
“Don’t ask questions,” snapped Fyrian.
I lowered myself into the seat. “I thought the head of the Dragon Mage Academy would be at my hearing.”
“If this was about your school work, he might be here, but you got expelled for dark magic. They think you’re a danger to all the dragons in Mount Fornax.”
Despair rumbled through my intestines like an out-of-control wagon. How many more times did I need to explain that the magic had come from King Magnar and not me?
“If you do a good enough job, you’ll only have to explain yourself once more,” she said.
I folded my hands in my lap and raised my head, waiting for them to speak.
“Well?” said Master Fosco. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
In a clear voice, projecting a confidence I didn’t feel, I said, “I’d like to rejoin the Dragon Mage Academy, sirs.”
“Why?”
Answers bubbled up to the back of my throat. Because I was unfairly expelled. Because I had found the stolen dragon eggs while everyone else was being diplomatic to the real thief. Because I had stopped the sleeping dragons from razing Steppe to ashes in search of the eggs that no one else but me had found.
Of course, I couldn’t give any of those perfectly valid reasons. Not if I wanted to remain a student here. “I wasn’t the source of the dark magic that woke the sleeping dragons.”
Master Roopal raised his silver brows. “Why are we to believe it was King Magnar who employed the corrupt, fairy magics and not the great-grandchild of the King Who Must Be Forgotten?”
I clenched my teeth. How was anyone supposed to forget this evil King of the Fairies if they kept mentioning him and his misdeeds?
“That’s beside the point,” snapped Fyrian. “Tell them what you saw.”
My tongue darted out to lick my lips. She was right. Even though this hearing was unfair, I had to play along. “King Magnar is in league with a spriggan. I saw one at the border of the Savannah Empire.”
Master Fosco’s scowl deepened. Masters Roopal, Klauw, and Solum bared their teeth and hissed.
My heart jumped to the back of my throat. Had I said something wrong?
“How do you know it was not an imp?” snapped Master Roopal.
“I-imps are little, with tiny wings and pretty faces.” I tried to keep the shake out of my voice. “What I saw was hideous.” A shudder ran through my spine as I described a monstrous baby head atop the body of a full-grown warrior. Nobody could ever forget those long teeth and sunken yellow eyes. “You can ask the two sleeping dragons who came to the border. They saw it.”
Master Roopal shook his head. “They cannot corroborate your story.”
“Why not?”
“The sleeping dragons all returned to their slumber after retrieving the eggs.”
My spine curved with the weight of defeat. I’d rather face Father’s wrath than wake those terrifying dragons.
“Stay calm and keep going,” said Fyrian. “They’re just testing you.”
“Fyrian saw them, and so did Fogo.”
Master Klauw smirked. “Fogo?”
“Queen Cendrilla’s dragon.” I straightened, encouraged by the semblance of a friendly gesture. “He teleported us to the border and fought by our side. He’s probably at the palace now, but if you spoke to him, he’d confirm that there was a spriggan.” I gulped. “The creature even seemed to know Fogo and called him Purple Draco something.”
Master Roopal’s lips tightened into a thin, angry line. “Draco Unus Purpura. Such appellations were from the times when dragons were the captive creations of the Forgotten King. Spriggans ran the experiments on behalf of their master.”
“Oh.” A memory sparked into my mind. “But the spriggan was shocked to see the sleeping dragon. She was powerful enough to incinerate him to ash.”
“Indeed?” Master Solum leaned forward in his seat, a smile on his lips.
My heart leaped. Another one of those about to decide my fate had shown a sign of friendliness. “Yes. I don’t think he’d ever seen a sleeping dragon.”
The dark-skinned male clasped his hands. “Good. I understood that you spoke to King Magnar after the spriggan was killed?”
“Yes.” I ducked my head, placing my hands over my stomach to settle my cringing insides. “I-It was personal.”
Master Klauw snarled. “You admit to a personal association with the man who brought locusts across our wards and stole our eggs?”
My head snapped up. “No! He’s my worst enemy. King Magnar thinks I’m from the United Kingdom of Seven, and I just wanted to make sure he didn’t try to declare war on a non-magical country like he did after our duel.”
The masters exchanged looks. Even Master Solum’s expression had turned to granite. My heart sank. Master Fosco had probably told them that I was Princess Alba, hiding here to escape a forced marriage to King Magnar. From the way they didn’t ask any more probing questions, I imagined that my misdeeds had already been dissected prior to the meeting.
“I’d worry about whether they’re allowing you to stay,” said Fyrian.
A sigh slipped from my lips. She was right. “Sirs, I promise to obey the rules and be a good student… And a credit to the Dragon Mage Academy.”
They ignored my words. Master Klauw leaned forward, turning to Master Roopal. “Do we need such a disobedient child in our midst?”
I clenched my teeth. He was a fine one to talk, looking three years younger than my actual age.
“Alba…” Fyrian said in a warning tone.
“She reminds me of Queen Cendrilla at her age,” replied the silver-haired Master.
Master Fosco sneered.
“And I do not believe this child was the source of the dark magic,” said Master Solum. “I sensed no traces of it while Cadet Bluford farmed the dung.”
My shoulders relaxed. So far, it looked like Masters Solum and Roopal were on my side.
“You are partial to the child?” Master Fosco raised his brows.
“I am always seeking help on the lands.” Master Solum steepled his fingers, his coal-black eyes sizing me up like he was buying a plow horse at the Capital Market. “We could always use the child for mulching the east region.”
They all gave Master Solum enthusiastic nods. Master Fosco beamed, looking me straight in the eye. “A wonderful suggestion!”
Fyrian’s heart plummeted alongside mine. What was the point of staying on in Mount Fornax to spread dragon dung over the lands? Father would whisk me away to a more politically useful but doubly unpleasant fate. Irritation rippled through my gullet, urging me to berate their ingratitude. But Fyrian’s warning floated up to the surface of my mind. This could all be a test of my defiance.
Smoothing my features into what I hoped was a placid expression, I said, “General Thornicroft was teaching me to use the Parched Sword. That’s what I used against King Magnar’s dark, fairy magic.”
The good humor evaporated, and each male leaned forward, gazes sharp. I stiffened. Had I just admitted to having taken the sword without permission?
; Master Roopal spoke first. “What do you know about fighting dark magic?”
“Combining my powers with Fyrian’s seems to work against most things,” I kept my voice indifferent, as if I had no idea that dragons despised high fairies and might need someone who could fight their power.
“That’s it,” said Fyrian. “They’ll never make us shovel dung if they know we can fight dark magic.”
All four males’ eyes widened. Master Fosco furrowed his brow and stepped forward. “Explain.”
“We can break through witch magic if we use her venom,” I replied. “And Fyrian can multiply the effectiveness of gravestone if I lend her my power.”
“How did you break through King Magnar’s dark magic?” asked Master Roopal.
I hesitated for a moment before patting the hilt of the Parched Sword. “With this. General Thornicroft sort of said I could borrow it.” Hopefully, they would focus more on the dark magic than on my pilfering. “He taught us that it absorbs liquids, and he demonstrated shooting steam out of it, so I...”
“Yes?” Master Klauw’s viridian-green eyes gleamed.
“I dipped it in Fyrian’s venom. Now, when I push my power through it, the flames nullify some forms of fairy magic.”
Master Roopal rubbed his chin. “The child is even more unique than Queen Cendrilla.”
“Hardly,” muttered Master Fosco.
I pressed my lips together. He had plenty of reasons to dislike me, and very few of them were my fault.
“The biggest threat to dragon kind is approaching,” said Master Solum. “King Magnar has dabbled with magics that should have stayed forbidden, and I fear that our wards will offer insufficient protection. Would you be willing to defend Mount Fornax in the event that a new evil arises?”
My heart flip-flopped. “Are you talking about the King—”
“Do not speak his name!” hissed Master Roopal.
I clamped my lips shut to stop myself from pointing out that it was him who kept bringing up this evil fairy. “Fyrian and I are bonded. If someone’s threatening dragons, then they’re threatening me. I’ll do whatever I can to stop them.”
“Good answer!” said Fyrian.
Master Solum leaned back and folded his arms. “I am satisfied to reinstate this child to the Academy.”
I stared from Master Roopal to Master Klauw, breathing in time to the pulse pounding in my throat. There was no point in looking at Master Fosco. Now that Father had accepted my decision to stay in Mount Fornax, Master Fosco had lost interest in keeping me here.
“They need you more than you need them,” said Fyrian.
“I don’t know about that,” I replied.
It was Master Klauw who spoke first. “How do we know the child won’t—”
A loud knock on the door interrupted his sentence. It swung open, and Madam Maritimus rushed in. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve found an unconscious male outside the wards. He’s wearing a cadet uniform and is close to death.”
My stomach dropped. I’d left Niger and some of the drogott team to search the ships but hadn’t checked up on them.
“Who is it?” asked Master Fosco. “Did he arrive via dragon?”
“No.” She stepped back into the hallway. “He’s in critical condition. We brought him straight here.”
The males sprang out of their seats, rushed past, and followed Madam Maritimus out the door. I doubled over, clutching my roiling stomach. If anything had happened to Niger…
“He’ll be fine,” said Fyrian. “Niger’s older, stronger, the captain of the drogott team, and a member of a famous clan of dragon mages. He can take care of himself and the others.”
She was right, but it still felt wrong to have sent him out without checking if he had returned.
I swiveled around on the bench, peering at the activity in the hallway. All four males stood in a row, mostly obscuring my view, but I thought I saw Evolene among the witches surrounding a body covered in yellow healing magic.
“What is the meaning of this?” Master Fosco roared.
I barreled out of the room and bumped into the librarian, who dropped an armful of scrolls. The scrawny male clasped his bald head in an expression of dismay, as though the rolled parchment hitting the floor was the worst thing that could happen.
“Sorry!” I said.
“No harm done,” he said in a voice that meant the complete opposite. He flashed his eyes and twisted his thin lips.
I flinched at the sight of the pupil-less iris and dashed around him, leaving him to pick up the rolled pieces of parchment. Master Klauw stood a good half foot shorter than me, so I peered over his shoulder to see who had made the others snarl.
Lying in the yellow bubble was the unconscious and bleeding form of King Magnar.
Chapter 2
I wrinkled my nose at the pulverized sight of my worst enemy. Blood caked his face and seeped into his short, blond hair. It had only been a night since the battle. How could one person suffer so much damage over such a short space of time?
“They should leave him out for the vultures,” muttered Fyrian.
“This is a trap,” said Master Roopal.
I nodded and scanned his brown, leather cadet uniform for signs of fairy artifacts. He didn’t even carry a sword on his belt.
“What did he return for?” spat Master Klauw. “An execution?”
“Wake him,” snarled Master Fosco.
Madam Maritumus shook her head. “He’s in urgent need of medical attention. Dark fairy magic is attacking his vital organs, and he’s suffering acute dehydration and blood loss.”
I glanced away, guilt gnawing at my insides. Perhaps that head butt had been a bad idea. I’d left him unconscious on the scrubland in the care of an anxious orlovi bird with a sharp beak.
“Don’t be so soft!” snarled Fyrian. “He would have killed you during that duel. And who knows what torments he and the spriggan would have exacted on the eggs?”
“And that poor, little hatchling,” I replied.
Master Fosco reached for King Magnar’s neck, but the magic of the bubble batted him away. “When can we carry out an interrogation?”
“Healing the injuries will be tricky enough,” replied Madam Maritimus. “But until we’ve worked out a way to drain the dark magic, I can’t say when he’ll be coherent enough for questioning.”
Master Fosco turned on his heel and stormed into his office. “Take him away. Put him in the hut on the outskirts of the territory, far from my dragons.”
“Of course.” Madam Maritimus nodded at the witches, who levitated King Magnar’s body out of the reception area.
The other three masters trailed after the witches and their prisoner, muttering about King Magnar’s intentions for returning. I followed them out into the courtyard, a wide expanse of sandstone, surrounded by low buildings. The morning sun cast its soft light on four Fornax Flying Floats standing in front of the double doors, their bony, dragon-like wings outstretched.
“I’ll fly over so we can follow them,” said Fyrian.
“Good idea,” I replied. “Then we can keep an eye on him and make sure he’s not trying anything nefarious.”
A large, heavy hand landed on my shoulder. Its owner said in a cut-throat voice. “You should be in class.”
General Thornicroft glared down at me from glimmering, quicksilver eyes. The sun shone through platinum hair even paler than my natural color, making it glow like a halo. I gulped. No matter how many times I saw the quarter-giant, that rigid, human face on an eight-foot-tall body always unsettled my nerves.
“B-but, sir,” I tried to keep the tremor out of my voice. “The Council of Dragons...”
“Would be mad to eject its best weapon against the threat on the horizon.”
My insides chilled. I would have asked him if the threat was King Magnar or my great-grandfather, the Forgotten King, but with an agitated Master Roopal standing so close by, I didn’t bother.
Master Fosco waved a dismissive hand
in the direction of the floats. “Go to class.”
Master Solum grinned. “First years will meet by the black dragons’ dwellings. Bring Fyrian along.”
“Um... all right,” I muttered.
Before any of them could change their minds, I sprinted across the courtyard, over the lawn behind the reception building, around the Golden Callisti apple trees, and found a stair stone that led to Fyrian’s grassy terrace.
The green dragons who dwelled in the stalls on her level gave me nods of greeting as I passed. I waved at each dragon, tamping down a twinge of unease at not having learned their names.
In her stall, Fyrian lay on her haunches like a scaly, green lioness, peering down at me with half-lidded, crimson eyes. Her horns curved out around her head like a mane, a sight that always reminded me of the haughty, regal personality I had first met.
“What did you make of all that?” I asked.
“They don’t want you to get a big head, I suppose.” She edged forward, sticking the front of her body out of the stall. Sunlight hit her scales, making them shine like emeralds. “How many first-year cadets can say they negotiated with the sleeping dragons and faced down a spriggan?”
“Do you think that was the only one?”
Her wings gave a shudder that sent a gust blowing through my hair. “I hope so. Only Magnar’s interrogation will tell.”
I climbed up her forearm, over her shoulders, and settled myself between her wing bones. “We’ve got to find out what he says.”
“Agreed.” She launched herself off the edge of the terrace and soared over the mountainside.
At this time of the morning, the sun peeked over the distant hills, casting streaks of hazy yellow light on the terraces. Fyrian soared into the skies, making each level of the mountain below resemble the widest staircase in the Known World. A cool breeze blew onto my face, and I dipped my head, avoiding getting the wind in my eyes.
“You’ll need to wear goggles if you don’t use a saddle.”
“I’ll see if they have any in the storerooms.”
Dragon Mage Academy Box Set Page 45