Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  “You’re awake!” she exclaimed.

  “Send as much power as you can spare.”

  “Right!”

  A shock of dragon magic burst through our bond, making my heart jolt. Searing heat surged through my arteries, racing its way through my system. My limbs seized, and my eyes bulged. It was then that I realized that the dragon quest had permanently altered the nature of my connection with Fyrian.

  This enormous rush of Fyrian’s magic would either give me the power I needed to overcome this elixir or burn me from the inside-out.

  Chapter 22

  Mr. Bacon jumped back. “What is the meaning of the veins glowing under your skin?” When I didn’t move again, he stepped forward and lowered the collar. “It doesn’t matter. Soon, your power will be mine.”

  My hand shot out and clamped around his wrist.

  The alchemist tried to jerk free, but I squeezed tighter. “Stop struggling,” he snapped, “or I will have to hurt you.”

  Flames sprang from my hand, searing his flesh. “You can try!”

  Mr. Bacon shrieked and squeezed his eyes shut. “P-please. S-stop this!”

  The homunculi advanced on me. I sat up, swung my leg and kicked the first across the room. The second rushed forward, grabbing the arm that had seized its master.

  I snarled. Flames shot out from my free hand. I curled my fingers, rotating the power until I’d created a ball of yellow flame and threw it on the homunculus.

  POP!

  My head jerked to the side to avoid the resulting splatter.

  With the hand not holding the collar, Mr. Bacon reached into the inner pocket of his robe, looking like he would pull out a weapon. I grabbed this other wrist and wrenched it free. I pushed more fire into my palms, and the stench of burning flesh intensified.

  Mr. Bacon screeched, and the homunculus I’d kicked across the room barreled forward holding a sword.

  “My hands are coated with dragon fire,” I said. “No amount of stolen witch magic will heal your wounds.”

  “W-what do you want?” he screamed. Sweat poured down his face, settling into the deep scratches made by the birds. “Let go!”

  “Drop the extricator,” I replied.

  The collar slipped from his fingers.

  “Now, call off all your homunculi.”

  “D-done!” The homunculus I slammed against the wall fell to the ground. “W-what else?”

  I bared my teeth. “How did you poison everyone?”

  “I slipped my own elixirs into Master Jesper’s pink algae formula and fed the mixture to the largomorphus rex.”

  Nodding, I dimmed the flames. This was exactly how Evolene and I imagined the dragons had been poisoned. “What else?”

  “My partner poisoned certain foods.”

  A sharp breath whistled through my clenched teeth. Eyepatch. He’d been so keen to make sure everyone was well fed. It had to be him. No one else had such access to our meals. Even though it was unnecessary, I had to ask. “How did he do it?”

  “He wrote to me when King Magnar first entered Mount Fornax, telling me it was time to implement what we’d been planning for years.”

  I cocked my head. “Plans?”

  He swallowed. “King Calder has a network of spies in each country, and he sent one to work in the library, so he could send everything he knew about dragons.”

  Relief whooshed from my lungs in a single, long breath. “The librarian poisoned everyone? How?”

  “Powdered elixirs in the master dragons’ daily briefing parchments.” He squirmed in my grip. “He delivered briefings to every department in Mount Fornax, including the kitchens and brewery.”

  I nodded. That explained why the librarian had looked so disturbed when I had knocked his scrolls to the ground. “He also poisoned the special brew they served at the duel, didn’t he?”

  Mr. Bacon flinched. “Y-yes… And the barbacoa meat. Then he placed an extra strong dose in the bloodwurst porridge.”

  I shook my head. Yesterday, both Stafford and Evolene sat at the table eating bread and butter. “Where else did he put his poison?”

  “The golden apple compote! P-please, let go!”

  I dimmed the flames but squeezed tighter. “Tell me how to reverse the loyalty elixir.”

  “M-Master Jesper’s alkahest might work. Otherwise, there are individual antidotes for each elixir. The formulae are in the wagon. Please, let go… I’ve told you everything you want.”

  “Quick,” shouted King Magnar. “The hut is falling apart. There’s no time to lose!”

  I glanced around the hut. Flames spread across a table, rising to the walls. “No,” I gripped harder. “You’ll tell me how you intend to defeat the spriggan.”

  “There are six of them.”

  My stomach dropped. “How do you know?”

  Mr. Bacon sobbed, his face contorted with pain. “Please, release me before I lose the use of my arms. I will tell you everything!”

  “BLUFORD!” Desperation edged King Magnar’s voice.

  “ALBA!” Fyrian screeched.

  I let go of the alchemist, kicked him to the side, and slid off the table. King Magnar sat at the end of the room in the same position as before, eyes round, and face the pallor of curdled milk.

  “What are you?” I snapped. “A damsel in distress? Get up!”

  He turned his head and coughed. “I thought one who purported to be a dragon warrior would demonstrate greater skills of observation. Can you not see I’m tied up?”

  I glanced down at his wrists. Thin, translucent ropes wrapped around them, securing him to the arms of his high-backed chair. My shoulders hunched. All this time, I thought he’d been posturing. “Sorry.”

  “Never mind all that,” snapped Fyrian. “Untie him!”

  I tapped my right hip, but the Parched Sword was missing. As was my dagger.

  King Magnar dipped his head toward the other end of the room. “Your sword is over there.”

  “Oh, right.” I turned around to find the blade underneath the single intact homunculus. A quick glance at Mr. Bacon told me he was too busy rolling around and whimpering with pain to cause me any trouble. I kicked the homunculus aside with my foot, picked up my sword and returned to King Magnar. “You should have killed King Calder.”

  “I’d like to see you murder a parent. You couldn’t even kill an enemy like Henri Bacon the Second.” His eyes darted toward the flames. “Are you immune to fire and smoke?”

  I slashed at the bonds on his wrists. “I thought you’d be more observant. Henri Bacon the Second has a plan for dealing with the spriggans. It might be worth a listen.”

  “Thank you.” King Magnar’s words were clipped. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulled out a handkerchief, and clapped it over the lower half of his face. “My ankles, if you please.”

  There was something in his tone of voice. Annoyance that he’d been saved by a woman, or embarrassment. I didn’t care. The wretch was now in my debt, and I could use that leverage to cancel his schemes to make me his battling bride and to stop him from taking advantage of the loyalty elixir.

  I knelt at his feet and glanced up to check that he wasn’t smirking at my subservient position. His lips pursed with a look I supposed was impatience, and I cut at the first binding on his ankle. “Anything else, Your Maj—”

  “Behind you!”

  Strong arms grabbed me around the middle, lifting me off the floor. Air whooshed out of my lungs. Not again!

  “You fool,” snarled Mr. Bacon. Droplets of a foul-smelling liquid splattered on my cheek. “His Highness was correct. You should have killed me. Now, I have the power to overcome a dragon mage.”

  Before he could crush me tighter, I twisted in his grip. “Get off me!”

  “With pleasure!” He threw me hard against the wall.

  Pain flared across the back of my head. I fell forward onto my hands and knees, teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut. He taken a strengthening elixir while lying on the grou
nd in pain!

  Mr. Bacon gripped the back of my flying jacket, and I reached out and grabbed his wrist, pushing as much of our combined power through my right hand. The scent of burning flesh made me gag, but I held on.

  “Your flames are useless! With my mandragon elixir, I have surpassed humanity and will gain a place of honor in the New Savannah Empire!”

  I groaned but kept holding on and struggled to my feet. Whatever strength advantage I had over Mr. Bacon was gone, as it was clear that whatever he had taken had energized his muscles and blocked any pain. But he was no more immune to dragon fire than a largomorphus rex. I turned around, aiming for his face with my free hand, but he stayed out of reach.

  “Get down.” King Magnar charged across the room, holding my Parched Sword, and lanced the alchemist through the stomach.

  Roaring with outrage, Mr. Bacon punched King Magnar across the face, sending him spinning across the hut. My Parched Sword clattered to the ground.

  Fire raged on the other side of the hut, spreading further up the wall. Flames cracked, wood popped, and Mr. Bacon’s skin sizzled where I held onto his wrist.

  I glared up at the alchemist. “What’s King Calder going to say when he finds out you assaulted his son?”

  With one almighty tug, he yanked his arm out of my grip and kicked me in the stomach.

  I staggered back, doubling over and coughing.

  “A King with the means to live forever has no use for heirs!”

  Cold sweat trickled down my forehead. An enemy with unnatural strength, no pain, and a touch of insanity was the worst kind. I shook my head. Everything about Mr. Bacon was insane—especially his eyes.

  My breath caught. His eyes!

  He fumbled around in his robe for what I guessed was his spare magic-draining collar, and I jumped to my feet, palms outstretched, burning, and aiming for his golden eyes.

  “We’re coming!” said Fyrian. “See to Magnar’s injuries.”

  I batted her comment away and lunged at him, arms outstretched and placed my burning hands over his eyes. He fell back, bringing me down to the floor with him. I kept my hands over his eyes, hoping no one had thought to make them heat-proof.

  Mr. Bacon screamed and pulled at my hands, trying to wrench them off his eyes. He slammed his knee into my gut, and I fell back.

  Fire spread from the chair to the walls, filling the hut’s interior with smoke, and I scrambled around on my hands and knees, scrambling around for the Parched Sword.

  “Where are you?” the alchemist roared. “You’ve melted my golden eyes!”

  My fingers closed around the blade. With a grunt of satisfaction, I stood and turned to the high-backed chair. Where was King Magnar? With so much burning elixir and smoke in the air, my eyes watered, obscuring my vision. The foul mixture filled my lungs, and I coughed.

  “There you are!” Mr. Bacon charged through the smoke and slammed me against one of the hut’s supporting posts.

  Pain spread across my back, and I winced. The ceiling cracked, and an ominous creak of breaking wood rent the air. It was time to leave. I threw the alchemist across the room and dashed toward the exit.

  “Where are you?” the alchemist thrashed about like a drunken camelops, crashing against the wall and making it shake. A huge section of ceiling dropped onto his head. He fell to the ground, a twitching heap.

  “Where’s Magnar?” Fyrian’s voice broke. “Y-you have to find him.”

  My stomach dropped. The hut was about to collapse, and there was no sign of him. I faltered my steps, scanning the space.

  But all I found was smoke.

  “No!” she screamed.

  The back wall crashed, hopefully crushing the last remaining homunculus.

  “Alba… Find him!”

  Smoke stung my eyes, and I stretched out my arms. If only I’d killed Mr. Bacon and not tried to glean information about defeating the spriggans. “I-I can’t. Maybe he already left.”

  “Please!” She sobbed.

  Another section of roof crashed, missing me by a foot. Freezing sleet splattered onto my skin. I bowed my head and turned toward the door. King Magnar had his faults, but he would have survived that punch to the face and slithered out of the hut. He wouldn’t perish here and leave his sisters in the clutches of the spriggan.

  I rushed toward the door. “He’s not here, Fyri. If I don’t leave now, we’ll both die.”

  Strong arms lifted me off the floor like a damsel, carrying me through the hut, and out into the freezing mist. I filled my lungs with cold, fresh air, then my rescuer set me on my feet.

  King Magnar loomed over me, his turquoise eyes shining with triumph. “I rescued you!”

  “Yes.” I straightened, cringing at the intensity of his gaze. “Thanks.”

  “You know what this means?”

  In the distance, Fyrian flew toward us, bringing a surge of warmth through my heart. The frozen mist blowing around us no longer bothered me. We’d both survived this adventure, and I could now ask Master Jesper to find the antidote Mr. Bacon had said would work for the loyalty elixir.

  Sharp, annoying fingers tapped my shoulder, reminding me that I hadn’t answered King Magnar’s question. He cleared his throat. “Princess Alba?”

  “It means we’re even, I suppose.” I glowered at him in the corner of my eye, resisting the urge to shove him away. Why wasn’t he calling me Cadet Bluford anymore?

  He stepped around me, blocking my view of Fyrian. In a breathless, awed tone, he murmured, “I saved your life.”

  Grimacing, I inched back. If he wanted to celebrate his newfound redemption, he could do it somewhere else. I would have told him as such, but he had carried me out of a burning building. A nice gesture, if unnecessary.

  “All right,” I snapped. “But I didn’t make a fuss about tracking you down to the hut and untying your bonds.”

  “No... You don’t understand, Princess Alba.” He placed both hands on my shoulders. “I saved the damsel in distress.”

  I jerked away, removing his grip. “That’s a bit harsh. I was winning until he took that mandragon elixir. Then after that, it was an even fight.”

  “He would have killed you if I hadn’t rammed him through the stomach with your sword.”

  “Right.” I glanced into the skies. Fyrian drew close, but she remained silent, as though curious about the direction of the conversation. I wasn’t about to be polite to King Magnar for her benefit. “You missed the bit when he punched you in the face, and I melted his golden eyes. Why are we even talking about this? We’re both safe, and you’re free to bring further misfortune upon Mount Fornax.”

  King Magnar’s eyes gleamed as though he’d heard something else. “And when the building was about to collapse and crush you to death, I carried you out, saving your life.”

  “I was about to leave!” I snapped. “And I would have left earlier if I hadn’t been trying to rescue you!”

  “Now…” He tapped his lip. “How did that folktale go? The dungman rescued the Princess, and as a result, he gained the first denial over her hand.”

  At his words, strange, pink magic wrapped around my heart like a garrote. Even though I was no damsel and only a Princess by marriage, somehow, King Magnar had activated the damsel denial.

  He’d convinced the atmospheric magic that I owed him my hand in marriage.

  And if I refused him, the penalty was death.

  END OF BOOK THREE

  Protector of Dragons

  Dragon Mage Academy Book Four

  Chapter 1

  If King Magnar was ever in mortal peril again, I would walk away and leave the wretch to his fate. He was a menace to Steppe, to dragon-kind, and now to me.

  I stood with my back to the remains of the smoldering hut and side-stepped a split in the parched ground. Fyrian flew toward us from the direction of the mountain, and I turned to watch her approach. It was all I could do to avoid his self-satisfied grin.

  By carrying me out of a burning building ag
ainst my will, the wretched monarch had twisted magic into awarding him my hand in marriage.

  Even in the dim, overcast light, and even without looking at him, King Magnar’s triumph shone like a beacon. His turquoise eyes sparkled like shallow pools catching the sun, and his hair shone like spun gold.

  My bones shuddered, and my skin puckered into goosebumps. I blamed that on King Magnar, too, and not on the freezing mist seeping through my leather armor. Everything about the man was thoroughly irritating.

  “I must say,” he murmured. “Being abducted by alchemists had its benefits!”

  My hands itched to knock him unconscious and wipe out the last few hours of his memory. Then I could tell him that we had run out of the burning shack together, and he’d forget all about having activated the damsel denial.

  The magic encasing my heart squeezed, making me wince and clutch at my chest. Apparently, violent thoughts about King Magnar was in violation of its rules.

  Fyrian straightened her wings and swooped down. She landed in a cloud of dust on the dry earth on other side of the ward, which still glowed yellow from when it had sucked me through. No matter how many times I saw her, she still awed me with her appearance. Master Jesper’s alkahest elixir had restored her scales to their emerald-green splendor, and horns curved out of her leonine face like a halo of crowns.

  Niger climbed down Fyrian’s back, helping Evolene off. As soon as the pair caught sight of me with King Magnar at my side, they froze. I pressed my lips into a straight line. I had no doubt that they still thought he was the ally of the alchemists who had poisoned nearly every being in Mount Fornax and made the dragons loyal to King Magnar’s empire.

  “Princess Alba?” asked King Magnar.

  “What?” I replied through gritted teeth. The magic released its grip on my heart, the pain faded, and I exhaled my relief.

  “We should cement our union at the earliest opportunity. I was thinking Master Roopal might—”

  “I’m not marrying you,” I snapped.

  King Magnar lifted his chin, lips curving down as though my answer had somehow failed to impress him. “Magic dictates you will marry me unless I refuse your hand.”