Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  “That formula doesn’t work for witches.”

  “Oh.” Stafford lifted a pestle from its mortar and sniffed. “What do you think happened to the alkahest, then?”

  I shrugged. “King Magnar probably got here first and gave it to the healers.”

  “Let’s go and find him.” He set down the mortar and rounded the table.

  The thought of seeing his smirking face without being able to think about punching it made me sick. “Actually, we’re better off trying to find the librarian. Mr. Bacon said he had the antidote to the loyalty elixir.”

  “Where should we go?” Stafford yawned.

  “Library?” I checked my belt. Both swords hung at my sides, ready for another fight.

  “Isn’t that too obvious?” he asked. “If I was a criminal librarian about to be caught, that’s the last place I would hide.”

  I rubbed my temples. “You’re right, but we might find a few clues to his secret hideout.”

  The strewn books and upturned tables lay in the same position I had found them when I’d last visited the library searching for Evolene. Stafford stopped at the entrance to gape at the mess. “What happened?”

  “All the cadets collapsed from the plague at the same time.” I placed my hand on his shoulder blade, encouraging him to step inside. “Luckily, the witches were still unaffected and carried them all out to the Healer’s Academy.”

  He pointed at a table that had been split in two. “It looks so violent.”

  “Half-ogres aren’t the lightest people in the Known World.”

  The double doors behind the librarian’s desk led to the archives. I walked past it and past the rows of shelves and reading nooks toward the stairs that led to the mezzanine.

  “Where are you going?” asked Stafford.

  “He must have an office around here.” I glanced up into the transparent ceiling and squinted into the light streaming in through the Great Lake. “Or at least a secret hiding place.”

  “If I were a villain posing as a librarian, I’d hide all the evidence behind a bookshelf.”

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “I read about it in a scroll.”

  “All right.” I gave him a pat on the back. “You go looking for secret hiding places, and I’ll walk around and see what I can find.”

  With a sharp nod, Stafford headed toward a set of bookshelves while I ascended the stairs into the mezzanine. Eight-feet-tall shelves covered the walls, occasionally curving into the walkway to form alcoves. I examined the first few for handles and levers then shook my head. The librarian probably used stolen magic like Mr. Bacon and would have enchanted any entryways invisible.

  At the end of the mezzanine stood a wooden door, labeled CLEANING SUPPLIES. I turned its handle, and it opened up into a small cupboard housing a mop, bucket, and broom.

  “A bit too tidy, don’t you think?” asked Fyrian.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  She showed me a visual of Evolene and Master Jesper standing in a field, pointing their staff at what looked like a giant albatross thrashing within bolts of lightning.

  I furrowed my brow. “What’s that?”

  “The weathervane.”

  “I wasn’t expecting it to look so… real.”

  “They said one of the alchemists fed it an elixir and enchanted it to create weather attacks against you.”

  “Where’s Niger?”

  Fyrian turned her head and sent a visual of a figure lying face-down by her tail. His long, auburn hair spread out across the grass.

  A breath caught in my throat. “What happened to him?”

  “He got struck while knocking the weathervane out of the sky. Jesper fixed his wounds, but the elixir he took made him sleep.”

  Fyrian cut off the image and asked, “Do you think it’s a ruse to conceal a hidden door?”

  “Huh?” I stared into the cupboard and scooted around the broom. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  “Albert!” shouted Stafford from the bottom level of the library.

  “Did you find anything?”

  “No.” He bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “How about you?”

  “Not sure.” I stepped into the cupboard and stretched out my arms.

  “What are you doing?” Stafford stepped inside, knocking the broom into my back. “Sorry!”

  I stumbled forward. Instead of hitting a solid wall of sandstone, my arms went through thin air. “Oh, I think it’s an illusion.”

  “Come on, then.” He grabbed my arm and hurried through the false wall.

  “Wait!” Before I could pull back, we stepped into another room.

  Stafford let go of my arm. “I was expecting something more… I don’t know… villainous.”

  “Hmmm….” I glanced around at what reminded me of a cadet’s study bedroom. A bedroll lay flush against one wall opposite a well-stocked bookshelf. A view of the Great Lake shimmered through the window instead of the mountain’s interior. “We’d better look for books on alchemy.”

  Stafford rushed to the shelf and pulled out the book on the top right corner. “Runes of power.” He slid it back into the shelf and selected another. “History of Elphame.”

  “Put that to one side, in case it contains anything useful about spriggans or the forgotten King,” I said.

  He set the book on the desk while I opened the cupboard under the wash stand. It contained the usual items: chamber pots, shaving supplies, and towels.

  “The first five centuries of the Snow Queen,” said Stafford. “He sure loves history books.”

  I gave him an absent hum and strode to the wooden chest and pulled on the top drawer. A dozen wooden boxes lay inside. One contained dozens of teeth, the other samples of hair, and another finger and toenail clippings. “Urgh!”

  “What?” Stafford rushed to my side.

  “Look!” I pointed at the contents. “What would anyone want with all those?”

  He frowned. “Do you think they belonged to him?”

  “Some of the teeth look too big to be human. I think he took them from half-ogres.”

  “What if he collected samples everywhere he went? I saw him at Niger’s duel the other day, and he was at yours.”

  I shuddered. “It’s lucky that King Magnar never got the chance to nick me with his sword.”

  “But you cut him. That’s probably how he got to make the loyalty elixir.”

  “Probably.” King Magnar also returned to Mount Fornax with his face caked in blood. I tore my gaze away from another box containing droplets of blood preserved in labeled scraps of parchment. “We need to destroy these. There’s no telling what an alchemist could to with somebody’s sample.”

  After opening and closing each box, I checked the next drawer down. It contained a number of different-colored crystals nestled within black cloth, each the size and shape of those that topped witches’ staffs.

  “This looks interesting!” Stafford brought over a large tome labeled HISTORY OF SAVANNAH.

  “What’s so special about that?”

  “It’s not actually a book.” He placed it on the top of the drawers, flipped it open and turned to the middle page. A foot-deep hole appeared instead of parchment. Rolled parchments—more than I could count—piled up to the brim.

  My jaw dropped. “His secret letters.” My voice became breathy with awe. “Well done, Stafford!”

  He unrolled a scroll and frowned. “Can you read this?”

  I squinted at rows and rows of alchemical symbols. “No, but Master Jesper should be able to. I’ll ask Fyrian where they are now.”

  “Something’s wrong with the weathervane.” Fyrian sent an image of a giant thunderbird thrashing within a magical barrier. Streams of lightning jumped off the creature’s body, setting the dried grass alight.

  “Do they know how to fix it?” I asked.

  “It looks like they’re trying out spells Jesper learned in a book. It says whatever the alchemists did to the weath
er vane might have caused it permanent damage.”

  I relayed Fyrian’s update to Stafford.

  “Maybe they should focus on waking the witches. The one in charge of managing the agricultural magic will know what to do.”

  I raised a shoulder. “But I’ll bet the librarian knows how to fix the weathervane.”

  His lips set into a tight line. “That man has a lot to answer for.”

  “Come on.” I gave him a nudge. “Let’s finish searching the room.”

  Over the next thirty minutes, we found a few personal items and detailed drawings of what looked like a convertible wagon. Mr. Bacon had probably snuck it into Mount Fornax when he arrived with Master Jesper and the largomorphus rex. “This could be their secret laboratory.”

  Stafford grunted. “They’d better have Golden Callisti apples.”

  “Let’s go out and see what we can find.”

  We rode the camelops to the dwellings of the black dragons, close to the northern edge of the largomorphus rex territory. The cold mist had now warmed and dried to a refreshing, cool breeze, and the dark clouds had lightened and thinned, letting in the last vestiges of sunlight. Half-a-dozen wagons stood in the middle of a wildflower meadow, still connected into a train. My stomach flip-flopped. What if we found the antidote? If I couldn’t save myself from King Magnar, at least I could free everyone else. Would they forget about me and move on?

  “Can you remember how many wagons Master Jesper brought?” I asked.

  “Seven, including the one in front.”

  “Which King Magnar drove back to the mountain.” I nodded. “That’s what I remembered.”

  “Definitely seven,” added Fyrian.

  We dismounted and approached the wagons on foot. Wildflowers, glowing vibrant shades of red and purple in the setting sun, reached our thighs.

  “Grrr!” A glacier wolf raised its head from the tall grass and stared at me through cold, blue eyes. Eight of its comrades did the same, as though waiting for their leader to decide how to react.

  “Albert,” whispered Stafford.

  “Hold on.” I raised my palms and murmured, “It’s all right. We’re friends of Master Jesper.”

  The wolf cocked its head to the side.

  “Albert!”

  I nudged him in the side to be quiet. “That’s right,” I said in my most reassuring voice. “Friends.”

  It might have been my imagination, but the wolf’s nostrils flared. I held my breath, hoping it didn’t think I smelled tasty.

  A silence stretched out, with the wolf narrowing its eyes, seeming to consider my words. My heart made a loud, steady beat that reverberated across my ribcage and down my arms. Master Jesper wouldn’t keep wolves that attacked people? It went against the troll’s non-violent nature.

  When the wolf lowered its head and closed its eyes, its comrades followed suit. Stafford and I exhaled identical sighs of relief and headed toward the first carriage.

  “Albert?”

  “What?” I hissed.

  “There are only nine wolves.”

  “He’s right,” replied Fyrian. “A dozen of them pulled the wagons.”

  I rubbed my chin. “Master Jesper took two of them in his wagon, so what happened to the twelfth?”

  We examined the wagons but only one contained anything of interest. In its covered section hung a single hammock, presumably for Mr. Bacon, as trolls didn’t sleep. We lifted a trunk lid and sifted through old robes and find a leather-bound tome of alchemical formulae at the bottom, along with vials of pink algae, and a sludgy liquid labeled ‘nutrient supplement.’ After placing one of each in our knapsacks, we headed back to the mountain with the leather book.

  When we returned to the Healer’s Academy building, a pair of male healers clad in white uniforms bustled from room to room, checking on the patients. I gaped. King Magnar really had woken them.

  We continued down to the laboratory to check on the barrel of pears. Hopefully, there would be enough gold and in the right quantity to make further batches of Master Jesper’s alhakest elixir.

  “Three cheers for His Majesty, the savior of us all!” bellowed a voice.

  Raucous cheers and applause filled the hallway.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Savior?”

  Stafford shrugged. “Maybe they’re confused. Once they’ve calmed down, they’ll work out that he only administered Master Jesper’s elixir.”

  “I hope so,” I muttered.

  We reached the laboratory, where Master Jesper and Evolene frowned over a giant beaker of liquid gold. Niger lay on a cot in the corner of the room, arms folded across his chest.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “King Midas pears aren’t providing the same results,” replied the troll. “Were there no Golden Callisti apples anywhere?”

  Stafford shook his head. “The orchards were burned down. We thought the alchemists might be keeping a stash in their hideout.”

  “I don’t suppose you have found said hideout?” asked Master Jesper.

  “Not yet.”

  Niger pushed himself up. “Why not interrogate Bacon?”

  I chewed my lip. “He died in the fire.”

  “His heart is still beating. It is faint and slow.”

  “How do you—” I caught sight of a cloth-wrapped bundle in the corner of the room.

  “Jesper went back to the hut and took his body for burial,” said Fyrian. “Even I hadn’t noticed he was still alive.”

  “Oh.” I scratched at the nape of my neck. “Can anyone revive him?”

  Master Jesper shook his head. “He will be under a tremendous amount of agony. It might be better to let him go.”

  I clenched my fists. “And condemn everyone in Mount Fornax to being loyal to King Magnar for the rest of their lives? There’s no sign of the librarian. Mr. Bacon is our only hope.”

  A silence stretched out across the room. Everyone probably thought I was being cruel to not to let Mr. Bacon succumb to his injuries. I squared my shoulders and scowled. This was the same man who tried to drain my life-force when I was just seven. He’d shown me no such mercy then. Even having his eyes pecked out by angry birds hadn’t taught him a lesson, and he’d tried again a decade later.

  “B-Bluford is right,” said Evolene. “M-Mr. Bacon made the choice to attack Mount Fornax, and everyone is suffering. I say we wake him up.”

  “Do you know how?” I asked.

  She nodded, eyes hardened with determination.

  Master Jesper sighed. “At least allow me to administer some pain relief?”

  I nodded.

  “Cadet Bluford,” said an annoying voice at the door.

  I ignored him and headed toward the wrapped bundle.

  “Do not ignore me!”

  Magic twanged at my heart, a warning of what was to come. I clenched my teeth and turned around.

  King Magnar raised his chin. “Outside, please.”

  “See if you can get him to talk about the antidote,” I muttered to Evolene.

  As soon as the door shut, King Magnar advanced on me, eyes shining. “Are your friends making more of the antidote to awaken the warriors?”

  I nodded.

  “Wonderful. How soon can you awaken the dragons?”

  “I don’t know. We need gold to—”

  “They need to be awake and ready for war!”

  Blood drained from my face. “You’re planning on sending the dragons to Savannah!”

  “Your Majesty,” bellowed a familiar voice. Master Fosco sprinted down the hallway, burgundy hair flying over his broad shoulders, arms spread as wide as his grin. He swept King Magnar into an embrace. “Thank you! You have saved us all!”

  My stomach dropped. “M-Master Fosco?”

  The dragon master ignored me and sped down the hallway, dragging a bemused King Magnar. I would have rushed after them to correct Master Fosco, but a spasm to the heart was warning enough not to disrespect my future husband in public.

  I pursed my l
ips and shoved open the laboratory door. The sooner we found the antidote to the loyalty elixir, the better.

  Chapter 4

  I stood in the hallway, shaking my head at an overenthusiastic Master Fosco carry King Magnar away for some kind of celebration. It seemed that the longer a being was exposed to the loyalty elixir, the deeper his or her commitment to its target. I could imagine King Magnar convincing Master Fosco to go to war, unprepared against the spriggans and getting several dragons caught in their nets. The door to the stairwell slammed shut, and I pushed the laboratory door open.

  Blinking hard, I rubbed my temples and stepped into the laboratory. Now was not the time to panic. Not all the dragons were awake yet, and Mount Fornax was still locked down by two sets of wards.

  Niger shot to his feet. “What did Magnar want?”

  I raised a shoulder and headed for the left wall where Niger sat on his cot. “He didn’t get a chance to say. Master Fosco took him somewhere.”

  “Wonderful!” Master Jesper peered into a tube of gold and placed it on the table. “At least we are assured the alkahest works on dragons of all levels.”

  As I sat, my gaze wandered to the other end of the laboratory and lingered on figure under the black sheet. “What are we doing about Mr. Bacon?”

  The troll pursed its lips. “He sustained significant damage during your altercation. Could you not have been more… merciful?”

  I clenched my teeth, holding back the comment that I wasn’t the creature with the blood of hundreds of women on my hands. Even though Master Jesper no longer captured and drained the life-force of witches for the Snow Queen, it had no business judging how I fought for my life.

  Stafford crossed the room and sat on Niger’s cot. “But he was trying to kill Albert.”

  Niger snarled. “Mercy will get a warrior killed.”

  The troll bustled over to Mr. Bacon and cast an opaque healing bubble over the human. Evolene joined the troll. She held a tiny staff and a rack of different colored elixirs. Master Jesper murmured instructions to Evolene, who nodded and enchanted the liquids directly into the man’s belly.