Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  The troll clapped a hand over its mouth. “Forgive my indiscretion. Would you like me to alter the memories of your companion? He will never know of your disguise.”

  Stafford stiffened. “Please don’t.”

  “There’s no need.” I eyed its magical staff. Unlike the type used by a witch, this one had a band of gold connecting the crystal to the wood. Perhaps the troll had altered it because an honestly gained staff would reject its stolen magic. “He already knows.”

  Master Jesper inclined its head. “As you wish.”

  “Come on,” I clasped Stafford around the wrist. “Let’s go.”

  “Please don’t leave on my account.” The troll spread its arms wide, as though trying to block our path. “We can listen to the activities of the director together.”

  “Umm, no.” I backed away, tugging on Stafford’s wrist. “We’re late for classes, anyway.”

  Master Jesper settled itself on the ground where we had knelt. I shot the troll a filthy look. It probably wanted to enjoy the chaos and infighting it had caused with the largomorphus rex. I paused, waiting for Fyrian to comment, but she remained silent.

  A pang of worry shot through my chest. She never stayed quiet for long, even during that time we disliked each other. “Fyrian’s acting strange.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  While Stafford and I took the long way over the square of rooftops, I relayed all the peculiar things she had said. We jumped down to the sandstone bench and walked around the buildings to the double doors leading to the reception area.

  “That doesn’t sound like her at all,” he said. “Do you think her behavior is connected to all the strange goings on?”

  “Probably, although I’m not sure how.” I pushed the doors open and stepped through the sandstone foyer into the cool reception area.

  Stafford peered up toward the ceiling. “It’s looking at us.”

  My gaze flicked up to the skylight, only for me to lock eyes with the troll’s. Master Jesper’s wrinkled face pressed against the magical barrier, making it look even more monstrously flat. “I’m reporting its snooping.”

  Stafford snorted back a laugh. “Sorry.”

  I cringed. Yes, I was a hypocrite, considering I’d also snooped. And I’d be the first to admit to breaking the rules and performing dubious deeds in the name of uncovering the truth. And a liar because I’d infiltrated a brotherhood of warriors in disguise.

  Straightening my drooping shoulders, I said, “Dragons might die if we don’t catch whoever’s behind the clearscale.”

  “You’re right.” He bumped me on the side. “Besides, you’re always catching people who plot against Mount Fornax.”

  Warmth spread across my chest, and I smiled. It was a slight exaggeration, as I had stumbled through Mr. Jankin’s staged murder and hadn’t guessed how King Magnar had stolen the eggs until the last minute, but it was nice that someone had acknowledged my investigative skills.

  A loud thud of a body hitting the door reverberated through the reception area. Phoenix stepped out of the door marked ‘APPRENTICES’ and rubbed his brow. “Why aren’t you two at breakfast?”

  I raised my pointer finger to the skylight. “That troll from Tundra is up there, listening into the conversation.”

  Phoenix narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

  We both nodded.

  He stalked through the reception area, clenching his fists. “You two, go to the mess hall.”

  We both waited for him to disappear through the double doors before walking past Evolene’s old desk to Master Fosco’s door. White magic flashed through the gap in its frame, making the blood drain from my face. The fist fight just turned magical.

  “What should we do?” asked Stafford.

  “Let’s knock on the door and distract them.”

  The door leading out to the terraces opened, and the librarian entered the reception area, holding a bundle of scrolls.

  “Are you going into Master Fosco’s office?” I asked.

  “I must deliver the daily briefing papers.” He clutched them to his chest as though he feared I would knock them to the ground again.

  Stafford gave me a nudge, and we both stepped away from the door, allowing the librarian to pass. He gave the door two sharp raps. The room went silent, and he turned the handle.

  “At least the fighting’s stopped,” said Stafford. “If we leave now, we can grab another breakfast roll before flying class.”

  I told Fyrian to meet me in a few minutes, and she grunted her agreement. After a quick breakfast with Rufus and Gobi, we headed back over the terraces. Her stall lay empty, and I guessed she would be waiting for us at the surface with the other dragons.

  Captain Caiman stood by the cliff beyond the reception area. The sun reflected off his bald head, making it shine like a freshly polished poisoned apple. It matched the red, leather uniform that indicated his status as a dragon rider.

  Next to him sat a pair of rapier reds with their wings folded behind their backs. Unlike most of their species, these eight-feet-tall dragons had only hind legs and walked leaning on the wrists of their wings for balance.

  “Why are there only two dragons?” Gobi asked from where he strolled behind Stafford and me.

  “A good question,” muttered Rufus.

  “Fyri?” I asked. “Where are you?”

  “I’m tired.”

  I grabbed Stafford’s wrist and stopped. “Didn’t you sleep last night?”

  Gobi bumped into my shoulder, making me stagger forward a few steps. He muttered, “Watch it, Bluford!”

  “I was stalking the rabbit rex,” Fyrian answered.

  “All night?” I glared at Gobi’s retreating back. “Why?”

  “I wasn’t the only one!” Our bond went silent.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Stafford.

  My brows furrowed. “Fyrian isn’t coming to flying class. She tired herself out watching the largomorphus rex.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  “I intend to find out as soon as class ends.” I gave Fyrian a mental poke through our bond, but she either ignored it or had fallen asleep. Dread lined my stomach, and I wrapped my arms around my middle. Worrying about Fyrian wouldn’t help her.

  We continued walking towards where Gobi and Rufus stood, their heads tilted at the slumbering rapier reds.

  Up ahead, Captain Caiman grunted. “It was a struggle getting these two up here. Something’s tiring out the dragons.”

  “The recent searches for the eggs?” asked Rufus.

  “Doubtful.” The instructor rubbed the back of his dyed head. “They were not so tired during the Great Dragon Revolution or on strenuous missions.”

  Rubens, the rapier red we had ridden in our first class snorted, letting out a plume of gray smoke. Vermiculus, Fyrian’s friend who had taken me to the waterfalls to interview the blue dragon, lashed his tail as though irritated with the disturbance.

  I glanced up at the heavens, inhaling a deep breath through my nostrils. Fluffy, silver clouds gathered in a sea-blue sky, brightened white around the edges by the morning sun. Not a single dragon or dragonet flew in the distance.

  “Someone’s enchanted or poisoned all the dragons,” I said.

  Captain Caiman grimaced. “I will need to report this to Madam Maritimus and Dr. Duclair. Have you learned anything from Fyrian?”

  A knot of guilt twisted my insides, and my gaze darted to Stafford, who rounded his shoulders and glanced away. If we repeated what we had heard, news of our eavesdropping would reach Master Fosco, giving him a reason to expel me, or worse, expel Stafford for being my accomplice.

  I dipped my chin and stared at the lapel of his flying jacket. “She says a few of them were up all night, watching the largomorphus rex.”

  “That unnatural creature,” muttered Rufus.

  “Can we go and investigate?” asked Stafford.

  Captain Caiman glanced at the two sleeping rapier reds and shook his head
. “Even if Rubens and Vermiculus were willing to take you, they’d be a danger to themselves and anyone who rides them. Class dismissed.”

  “Should we take them back to their stalls?” asked Rufus.

  He walked around the dragons and picked up the saddles on the stand. “I will check on them in an hour. If they are still here, I will have some witches transport them.” Then he glanced from me to Stafford and grinned. “Well done on finding those eggs. I heard one of you rode a sleeping dragon.”

  I smiled and elbowed Stafford. “That was him.”

  He flushed. “I was more her hostage than her rider.”

  Captain Caiman chuckled. “By the time you graduate, your powers will be strong enough to subdue a sleeping dragon.”

  I swallowed hard. No being, except another sleeping dragon, could control one of those mighty creatures. Even the spriggan, their former tormentor, had been scared of the sleeping dragons.

  “What should we do now?” asked Gobi.

  “Master Klauw will be teaching abysmal visibility in Flying Safety today. It is a tricky subject. You can go to the library and study.” He stalked off toward the reception area balancing the saddles on his shoulder.

  The four of us trudged around the edge of the mountain towards the nearest stair stone. Rufus and Gobi walked in front, with Stafford and me trailing behind. My feet clomped against the hard sandstone, and I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my breeches, staring out into the horizon.

  “Let’s check on Fyrian first,” I said to the others. “She’s been acting off all morning.”

  We descended the stairs and walked around her terrace to check if she’d returned to her stall. Fyrian lay with her cheek resting on her forelegs. With her spine arched toward her head, her hind legs tucked themselves under her chin. Her spiky tail rested on the floor of her stall in a curve.

  “Fyri?”

  One of her front paws twitched.

  “Hey, Fyrian,” I said a little louder into my mind.

  She curled the end of her tail as though beckoning me to come closer.

  “We want to ask you something.” Then I said out loud, “It’s important.”

  She raised her head and opened her massive jaws, letting out a brimstone-scented yawn. “What?”

  I stepped out of the glaring sun into the shade of her stall. I said out loud, “We can’t find any dragons in the skies, and the rapier reds couldn’t wake up for flying class. Surely, you wouldn’t all have been up all night hunting the largomorphus rex?”

  “Maybe this is the first symptoms of the plague,” said Stafford.

  “What plague?” asked Rufus from behind.

  Stafford updated Rufus and Gobi about what we’d learned from overhearing Dr. Duclair’s part of the conversation, while I turned to Fyrian. “Are you sleepy from eating largomorphus rex, or from something else?”

  “Anything that tasty wouldn’t cause me harm.” Her eyelids cracked open, revealing a glimpse of slitted, crimson irises. “A dragon knows these things.”

  I shook my head. “So, you think King Magnar’s behind this?”

  Fyrian closed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “Someone’s making dragons tired. What if they want to transport you to a facility and force you to do their bidding?”

  “Magnar of Savannah would never do anything like…” Her words trailed off into a snore.

  “What’s she saying?” asked Stafford.

  “Nothing that makes sense.” I sighed and headed out of her stall.

  Gobi’s stomach rumbled, so instead of going straight to the library, we continued down one level to the mess hall, and I relayed my conversation with Fyrian to the others.

  Rufus harrumphed. “This tiredness and strange obsession with the largomorphus rex must be a side-effect of the alchemy used to make those creatures.”

  “Someone needs to tell Master Jesper, then.” I followed Rufus and Gobi into the mess hall.

  I inhaled a mixture of cooked meat and spices, the scent coming from the griddle at the center of the huge room. The chefs from before busied themselves scraping off bits of burnt meat from the hot iron surface. Gobi jogged to the far end of the griddle, where the chefs had piled up breakfast rolls stuffed with cooked mince.

  Stafford nudged me in the ribs. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Huh?” I glanced up.

  He pointed at the buffet table on the right of the room, where Eyepatch tried to press a bowl of porridge into King Magnar’s hands. As if by some kind of foul, fairy magic, King Magnar turned and locked eyes with me.

  My stomach nosedived toward the floor. “What’s he doing not in a prison cell?”

  “Or hung, drawn, and quartered,” added Rufus.

  The wretched monarch waved a dismissive hand at Eyepatch, whose posture slumped. Then he sauntered across the mess hall, ignoring all the glares and growls of the few dragon warriors lingering over a late breakfast.

  My teeth ground together.

  A wretch who had just suffered the most heinous of magical curses should look terrible. Obviously, someone gave him more help to recover than he deserved.

  “Cadet Bluford,” he said in a voice haughty enough to curdle rat’s milk.

  I curled my lip. “You’ve got a nerve to show your face here.”

  He narrowed his turquoise eyes. “I could say the same for you, sir.”

  The emphasis he placed on that last word brought back the memory of what I had done before giving him that head butt. He’d seen me without my glamor, and now he was free to reveal my secret.

  I cast Rufus a glance. He stood on my left, beside Stafford, his face a mask of fury. Then I turned to the miserable monarch. “What do you want?”

  Still keeping those cold eyes on me, King Magnar announced, “I wish to discuss our relationship.”

  Chapter 5

  Raw, primal panic seize my heart, and I grabbed King Magnar by the lapels and dragged him out of the mess hall. Rufus shouted something I couldn’t hear through the pulse pounding in my ears, only for Stafford to hold him back.

  The man squirming in my grip hissed, “Have you lost your mind? Unhand me this instant.”

  “Quiet!” I snarled.

  King Magnar huffed. “At least give me the dignity of traveling on my own volition to wherever you’re taking me.”

  Not slowing a single step, I released a lapel, allowing him to walk upright.

  “Thank you.” The words were clipped.

  We marched in silence across the terraces. Clouds thinned overhead, letting the might of the sun shine down on our heads. I could have taken him away through the mountain’s interior, but there was no telling who would overhear us in the hallways.

  “Why must we venture so far from the mess hall?” he asked.

  “I thought your spies would have told you about sensitive ogre hearing,” I snapped. They’d informed him of my failing the Magical Militia Academy, a fact he had been gleeful to share when we had first met.

  “Where do you suggest is safe to speak in a brotherhood of ogre hybrids?” he sneered.

  I didn’t answer. The sooner I dragged the wretch to the waterfalls and gave him a piece of my mind, the sooner I could focus on whatever was affecting the dragons. We continued over terraces of grass, dragon mint, and around rice paddies, until the roar of a waterfall filled my ears.

  “Oh, brilliant,” he shouted. “Very clever!”

  The terraces widened, and my feet slipped over moss-covered stones as we reached a stretch covered in ferns. Tiny droplets from a distant waterfall splattered over my skin.

  “A breathtaking location,” said King Magnar, his words softened with breathy awe. “What are your intentions, Pri—”

  Grabbing the other lapel, I threw him against the trunk of a jackfruit tree. His eyes bulged, and a flush spread across his cheeks. “Really! I must protest at this unseemly behavior.”

  I stepped back, balling both fists. “What do you want?”

  He glanced
down and straightened the lapels of his flying jacket. Then he tilted his head at a ridiculously high angle, exposing his nostrils. “I forgive your heinous attacks on my person. Obviously, your behavior has been affected by recent events and the enchantments disguising your feminine form.”

  King Magnar’s lips curved into what he probably thought was a magnanimous smile. To me, he looked constipated and in need of a kick to the gut.

  I placed my hands on my hips. “Perhaps the spriggan addled your senses. You’re the one who approached me. The only intentions I have towards you are avoidance.”

  His cold, turquoise eyes hardened. “Yet you dragged me to this romantic location.”

  “Because no one will hear you over that waterfall. Hurry up and tell me what you wanted to say.”

  He sniffed. “You won’t find me so tolerant of your poor manners once we’re married.”

  My neck jerked forward. My eyes bulged. King Magnar’s features twisted into a smirk that made his high cheekbones glow with triumph. The roar of the waterfall mingled with the roar of blood rushing through my ears, and despite a cool breeze cooling my water-dampened skin, I could feel my body temperature rise.

  “Do you need another headbutt?” I bared my teeth.

  King Magnar, who I now suspected had selective hearing along with his selective memory, drew closer. “I’ve drafted a letter to the Prince Regent, accepting his offer of your hand. Once we’re wed, you and I will return to the Savannah Empire to regain my throne with those giant dragons.”

  I blinked hard, waiting for him to elaborate on his ridiculous plans. A tiny, satisfied smile curved his lips, and he reached into his leather shirt.

  My breath caught, and my insides fluttered with anticipation. Would he show me the artifact he used to make the dragons sleepy? I placed my hand over the pommel of my Parched Sword, ready to destroy the dark, fairy magic.

  “This belonged to my mother.” He pulled out a chain, holding a gold signet ring with the Savannah sun. “It should belong to my Empress and the general of my dragon forces… You.”

  “You’ve lost your…” I shook my head in an attempt to break free of King Magnar’s miasma of madness. It no longer mattered that he’d convinced himself the sleeping dragons would help him after he helped to steal the eggs. This was my time to gather whatever information I could to save Fyrian and the others. “Please put that ring away.”