Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  “Right…” I swallowed hard. Father couldn’t know about Niger and me until we’d gotten a favorable test result. “Thanks. Will it consider my fairy side?”

  She tilted her head and frowned. “You will have to speak to Her Majesty’s personal physician to see what kind of compatibility tests she performed with the Prince Regent.”

  “You should have taken up your mother’s suggestion to stay in the palace,” said Fyrian. “Then you could have asked Dr. Streamer.”

  “Maybe when this business with Asproceros is over, you and I can fly out there.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Right, then.” She clapped her hands together. “Your injuries have healed, but I’d like to keep you another night to ensure you get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Can I leave tomorrow morning?”

  The doctor flew to the door. “I’ll have your discharge parchments sent to you after breakfast. See you in class tomorrow afternoon.”

  Moments after Dr. Duclair left, someone else knocked on the door. I sat up and straightened my hospital tunic. “Come in.”

  The door opened, and Captain Pristis stepped inside. “Dr. Duclair said you wanted to see me?”

  “Yes, sir. I wanted to ask how you were able to stop a sword fight with your bare hands. Was that a mage technique?”

  “It is…” he lowered himself onto the bench. “But only available to those partnered with silver dragons.”

  My heart sank. I’d hoped it was something any mage would be able to do. “W-why silver, sir?”

  “You’re aware of how each color dragon corresponds with an element?”

  I nodded. We had done an exercise in History of Dragons. As a green, Fyrian was aligned with the wood element. Silver dragons included white, gray, and silver. They were aligned with the metal element and could produce cold flames. I twisted the end of my sheet. “But I still don’t understand how you could stop swords without getting hurt.”

  “The deeper your connection with a dragon, the more aligned to your element you become,” said the captain. “If I concentrate, my body can become as hard as metal.”

  “What does that mean for someone with a green dragon?”

  He smiled. “That’s something you’ll have to discover on your own.”

  My shoulders drooped. So much for getting answers. “How did you deepen your connection with your dragon, sir?”

  “Meditation. Have you tried it?”

  “Is it anything like a dragon quest, sir?”

  “Not as involved. Close your eyes.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, straightened and let my eyes flutter closed. “Ready.”

  He chuckled. “It’s supposed to be a silent process. Next, if you concentrate, you should be able to find a space in the darkness of your mind that feels more silvery.”

  “He’s talking about our bond,” said Fyrian. “Tell him we already know this bit.”

  “Let’s listen to all his instruction.”

  She sent me a mental shrug.

  “Focus on expanding the silver in your mind,” he continued. “Make it bright, so it shines like the moon.”

  I exhaled and turned to where we kept our bond. Fyrian was right. General Thornicroft had used the moon to describe our bond and then said my mind was like hollow cheese. Had I placed distance between Fyrian and me by plugging up the holes? The space ahead was dark, with a pinprick of silvery light shining in the distance. I pulled the light closer with my mind, making it bigger, and dark spots appeared on its surface.

  “Like the moon,” said Fyrian.

  The vessels under my skin thrummed with power. Sweat trickled down my brow, and I breathed harder. This meditation seemed to be working.

  “Will it turn your skin into bark, do you think?” she asked.

  “I hope not.”

  “Maybe you’ll get green scales.”

  I swallowed hard. After the clearscale incident that had brought me to this very hospital bed, I wasn’t interested in tampering with the texture or transparency of my skin.

  “Good,” said Captain Pristis. “Practice this every evening before you go to sleep. It took me a few years before I could sense Griseo’s feelings. Now, it almost feels like we can read each other’s minds!”

  I opened my eyes. “Fyrian and I already have conversations.”

  He chuckled. “Of course. You’re the boy with the fairy blood. Try the meditations anyway. You might access something of Fyrian’s power that will help you in combat.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He stood and headed for the door. When he stepped into the hallway, he said, “Fyrian, if you’re listening, feel free to contact Griseo for advice!”

  The next morning, after a breakfast that wasn’t delivered by Roseate, four male healers escorted me to Flying Safety class. Instead of pictures of reckless riders putting their dragons in peril, Master Klauw plastered full-color illustrations of plants on the wall. Everyone had already settled into their places, so I slipped into my usual seat next to Stafford and pulled out my writing materials.

  “Poisonous plants and substances.” Master Klauw turned his viridian, green gaze on me. “How many of them do you know that affect dragons?”

  I raised my hand.

  “Cadet Bluford?”

  “Dragonsbane.”

  “An obvious choice.” He hopped out of his seat and paced the front of the room.

  I clenched my teeth. If he didn’t want that answer, why didn’t he say so?

  “He likes to get the last word,” said Fyrian. “You should see him in the Council of Dragons meetings.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Master Klauw picked up some papers from his desk and walked over to the picture of dragonsbane. “As Cadet Bluford rightly stated. This is one of the deadliest poisons known to dragon kind.”

  “What does it do?” asked one of the riders.

  He pinned a picture of a rotting dragon skeleton on the wall. “It works much like ogrebane would on you.”

  All the half-ogres in the room shuddered. Ogrebane was so dangerous, anyone found transporting it into Steppe faced immediate execution. I’d never come in contact with the substance, but Mother once told me a story of how Aunt Cendrilla had used it to burn through an ogre’s insides and reduce him to a puddle of liquefied flesh.

  Master Klauw continued posting pictures of dying dragons next to the plant illustrations, explaining the effects they had on dragons over time.

  “Sir,” asked Stafford. “How would you know this?”

  Master Klauw glared at us both. “How?”

  Stafford gulped. “I mean, I can understand a few dragons accidentally eating dragonsbane or being poisoned by it. In large enough quantities it’s deadly, but you said the other plants can take months or years to kill a dragon. If they know about the poison, why would they keep taking it?”

  His nostrils flared. “The fairies held us for a thousand years and performed experiments to satisfy their savage curiosity. This was one such test. To see how long it would take a dragon to die from poisons known to kill lesser reptiles.”

  I clapped my hands over my mouth. The experiments had always seemed abstract until now.

  “I had a dream of my legs rotting away once,” said Fyrian. “It must have been that dragon’s memories.”

  My throat spasmed, and I gulped hard. It was no wonder the dragons had strong wards to keep out high fairies. They were probably like the type of children who pulled the wings off butterflies to see what would happen next.

  “Some poisons are more insidious than others,” said Master Klauw. “There is a form of natural gas, deep within the earth that can turn a docile dragon into a killing monster.”

  “What happens to a dragon who kills under the influence of the gas?” I asked.

  “That depends if anyone knows the dragon has been compromised. Dragons who kill humans face a death penalty.”

  Fyrian harrumphed. “As do dragons accused of murders that never t
ook place.”

  I sent her a wave of love and sympathy. That had been a harrowing experience. “Did Master Fosco ever give you a public apology?”

  “Klauw brought it up in the Council of Dragons and made everyone say sorry. They’re asking for a dragon master to work alongside Madam Maritimus to investigate crimes.”

  “Who?”

  “Phoenix, when he graduates.”

  One of the healer cadets, a blonde-haired witch sitting in the front, raised her hand. “Is it easy to test for this gas?”

  “Only when the dragon is in the throes of rage,” replied Master Klauw. “His or her eyes will turn red.”

  “If we’re out catching a wild dragon, what do we do?” asked a tamer cadet.

  “You have three options when you see those red eyes.”

  I sat straighter, quill poised.

  “One.” He raised a finger. “Have a purple dragon move you to another location. Two, have at least six witches combine power and create a fireproof barrier. And three, throw alchemical charcoal into the dragon’s mouth.”

  I bit down on my lip. Why did that seem so familiar?

  “It was in the black elixir Jesper gave you,” said Fyrian. “The one that would absorb all those poisons.”

  “What’s that, sir?” asked Stafford.

  Master Klauw walked back to his desk, reached down to the ground and pulled out a box. “Everybody, take notes. What I am about to say might save the life of your dragon.”

  The sounds of knapsacks unbuckling filled the room. I turned around to find Muti and the other riders scrambling about for writing material. Stafford dipped his quill into the ink pot we shared and tapped the excess pigment from its nib.

  “Are you ready?” asked Master Klauw. “Alchemical charcoal soaks ten thousand times its volume in poisons. A piece as small as a pea is enough to save the life of even a sleeping dragon.”

  I wrote that down as fast as I could, hoping Master Klauw’s box would give us a sample of the substance.

  He picked up the box, stood and walked alongside the first row of desks, placing pieces of charcoal in front of each cadet. “If you venture out somewhere with suspect water, placing a pellet of alchemical charcoal will purify enough to quench the thirst of your dragon. Do not throw it in the Great Lake and expect it to work, you must draw the water into a receptacle and then place the pellet into it.”

  The blonde witch’s hand shot up. “How long does it take to work?”

  “Three seconds.”

  I scribbled that down and raised my head, eager for the next tip.

  “Wait a minute,” asked Muti. “What happens if you do not have any pellets?”

  He dropped half a dozen pellets on my parchment. “Find a healer.”

  “And if there is no healer?”

  “Then you must make your dragon vomit, so he or she can fly to a healer.”

  Wrinkling my nose, I slipped the pellets into the pocket of my breeches. Hiding in a dragon’s mouth while fire rained down was one thing, but making them sick sounded dangerous.

  Master Klauw continued handing out the pellets then he strolled back to the front of the class. With a mischievous grin, he reached under his desk and pulled out a huge scroll. “Did Dr. Duclair teach you about a dragon’s digestive system?”

  “No, sir,” we chorused.

  “Dragons can eat any time of the day, but digestion is dormant during waking hours. Why?”

  Rufus’ hand shot up. “So they have enough energy to fly.”

  “Correct.”

  Master Klauw pinned the top of the scroll to the front wall. From the way it bulged, there was at least one other parchment underneath it. He unrolled the scroll, revealing a diagram of a dragon with a series of tubes going from its mouth to just beneath its tail.

  “I’ve seen this before,” said Fyrian. “But I don’t understand why he needs these diagrams for dragon safety.”

  “He’s morbid but he means well,” I replied.

  “When the dragon sleeps, the valve separating gullet and stomach opens up.” Master Klauw pointed at the opening at the top of the dragon’s stomach. “While the dragon is awake, the gullet is where undigested food remains.”

  I raised my hand.

  “Yes, Cadet Bluford,” he said.

  “How can you make a dragon sick?”

  “By climbing head-first into the dragon’s mouth and thumping hard on the back of the throat.” He pounded on the wall over and over again, his nostrils flaring.

  I suppressed a shudder. “B-but what if you fall in?”

  Master Klauw’s eyes flashed. The rest of his face split into a grin I’d only ever seen on rapier reds. He pulled the first sheet of parchment off the wall, revealing the same diagram but with an upside down cadet in the dragon’s gullet, pushing against the valve to its stomach. The piping on the cadet’s uniform was burgundy, and his hair dark blond. He’d even outlined the dragon in green.

  “What an eel worm,” Fyrian muttered. “As if I would accidentally swallow you.”

  “Ignore him. He’s just jealous people as young as us get to have all the adventures.”

  Master Klauw steepled his fingers over his chest and rocked back on his heels. “Make sure to climb out before your dragon falls asleep because the valve between gullet and stomach will open. And the acid in our stomachs dissolve flesh and bones.”

  Everyone, including me, groaned.

  “Class dismissed and sweet dreams.”

  We all piled out of the classroom, muttering about the probability of being digested by one’s own dragon. A few of the others took the nearest doorway that opened up into a staircase, but Stafford, Rufus, Gobi and I continued down the hallway to find a door leading to a terrace.

  “I can’t believe they let him teach cadets,” Stafford muttered. “He’s the most pessimistic person in the Known World.”

  Gobi clutched his stomach. “I do not think I could crawl into a dragon’s gullet.”

  Rufus shook his head. “My brother told me some of his classes were hair-raising, but I did not believe him until now.”

  “Niger said that?” I asked.

  He turned, giving me a cold stare. “Albens.”

  “Right.” I gulped. Next time, I’d try not to perk up whenever he mentioned one of his brothers.

  “What’s going on over there?” Stafford pointed at a smashed door at the end of the hallway.

  Madam Maritimus emerged from its depths, flanked by two witches. The white-haired witch’s features hardened. “Did any of you hear any unusual activity this morning?”

  “No,” I replied. “I was in the Healer’s Academy, then in Flying Safety class.”

  “And we were in our dorms and the mess hall before classes. What’s happened?” asked Stafford.

  “This door leads to a hallway that leads to a chamber where a group of dragonets were staying,” she said. “They are all missing.”

  My heart reverberated in my chest. Asproceros struck again? “What about the grooms taking care of them?”

  “They were found a few minutes ago with cracked skulls.”

  “That means he has two sets of dragonets.” I bit down on the inside of my cheek. “What type were they?”

  “Green.”

  “Fyri?” I asked.

  A moment later she replied. “I can’t reach any of them, but I can hear the flying cat.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In a sack of some sort.”

  I relayed the information to Madam Maritimus, who frowned. “Does the cat know if it’s still in Mount Fornax?”

  “It says they’re in some sort of cave. There’s a light source, and the weather is cool.”

  “So, they’re somewhere with a powerful weathervane. He probably hasn’t left the wards yet.” I turned to the older witch and repeated Fyrian’s words.

  The witch’s lips thinned. “He is more organized than I’d suspected and probably better equipped.”

  I gulped. What if he had more tha
n invisibility cloaks to help steal dragonets? We had to stop him before he struck again!

  Chapter 17

  The four of us stepped onto the terrace, leaving Madam Maritimus and her team to complete their investigation. A harsh wind wrapped around my neck like a noose, and clouds as dark as steel hung low in the sky.

  I clenched and unclenched my fists. Asporceros was becoming bolder with each passing crime. Perhaps he thought himself invincible because of his physical strength and leave-no-trace invisibility cloak, but soon, he would go too far, and someone would end up murdered.

  Stafford glanced at me through the corner of his eye. “Are you all right?”

  “No,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Is it your head?”

  “It’s that wretched poacher.” I slammed my fist into my palm. “He’s stolen another group of dragonets. How long before he finds a third? How long before someone gets in his way like poor, dead Paniscus?”

  “They’ll catch him eventually.” Stafford activated a stair stone at the end of a terrace. “You heard what Madam Maritimus said—”

  “No,” I said.

  Stafford’s steps faltered. “What?”

  “What if he was hired by the spriggans to steal the dragonets?”

  Rufus grunted. “It is possible. And they are a more logical target than eggs.”

  “What do you mean?” Stafford bounded up the stairs.

  Rufus swept his arm aside in one of those gentlemanly gestures for me to go ahead up the stairs before him. “If they want to use dragon fire to raise the Forgotten King, dragonets will be faster than waiting decades for an egg to hatch and go through the stages to become a dragon.”

  My nostrils flared. One admission of my true identity, and he was already treating me like a lady. I took the stairs two at a time. “Standing around speculating isn’t helping anyone. Mount Fornax is huge, and we need more people patrolling all the sites Asproceros might raid.”

  “The dragonet dwellings,” said Rufus as he reached the top.