by Marc Johnson
“Krystal?” I whispered into her ear.
She couldn’t answer; she was asleep. I stopped massaging her and pulled the blankets over us. I wrapped my arms around her and she snuggled up against me.
I was happier in this simple moment than I had ever been before. I wished there was magic that could capture this moment in time, because I knew it wasn’t going to last.
CHAPTER 2
By the time I woke up, the princess was gone. I rubbed the indentation her body had left in the sheets and inhaled the pillow she’d used, smelling her sweet scent that reminded me of lilac. I had never once woken up to see her there, and that always saddened me. For once, I wanted to see my sleeping beauty just as the dawn broke.
I dressed, then tucked the scroll into my purse next to my potions and snacks. I seized Stradus’s broken staff and the urn with his ashes, depositing them into a bag with the utmost care. I pulled the drawstring and tied it off, making sure everything was supported before stringing the bag and purse across my body.
I ran into Jastillian, Prastian, Demay, and Behast at the entrance of the keep. We greeted each other and headed outside, walking to the spot where Cynder slept. It was well away from the walls, buildings, and even animals. There used to be a stock pen there, but Krystal had it moved. The dragon was curled up in a ball, much like a cat would be. However, a cat didn’t snore loud enough to sound like it had dozens of bats trapped in its nose. Cynder’s bright red, slumbering frame matched the sunrise from behind him. The sun shone on his body as if he were on fire.
While my friends had gotten to know Cynder over the time I’d been here, they still stared at him with glassy-eyed reverence. I used to live with him in the White Mountain and had known him far longer than anyone else. While he did once try to kill me, we were friends now. He was the only one who understood the things I had gone through and was yet to encounter.
My friends tried to wake Cynder by coaxing him out of his deep sleep with soothing and gentle words. That was never going to work, and neither was throwing a rock at his thick, scaled hide.
I strode to Cynder’s head, next to the small shrine with carvings of wood and wax made in the dragon’s image. Dried blood spotted the ground, no doubt from a meaty offering. Flies buzzed around small piles of rotting fruit and vegetables. The people should have known that he only liked meat.
I waved my friends away and screamed into his ear, “Cynder, wake up!”
His twitching tail flopped back and forth, but he still snored. I gritted my teeth, trying to think of a way to wake him up. We didn’t have time for this. The rotting fruit gave me an idea. I picked up a brown apple and faced him.
“If you don’t wake up,” I said, “I’m going to pelt you with fruit until you do.”
I put my right arm back, ready to throw the apple, when something smashed into me. It struck my back and splattered. Wet mush clung to the back of my neck like a damp spider web. My friends chuckled. I reached up and wiped the goo away, then turned around to see the end of a tail hovering above the fruit.
The dragon stopped his fake snoring and slowly opened his reptilian eyes, amusement dancing in them. The red irises burned like candle flame. He uncurled his body, stretched his elongated neck, and yawned.
“Little Hellsfire,” Cynder said. “Still outmatched and outwitted by a far superior being. Will you never learn?”
I glared at him then ignited the fruit in my hand and flung it at him. He opened his mouth, exposing rows of pointy teeth. He swallowed the burning fruit whole, then smiled at me.
“I hate you,” I said.
“You lesser beings are filled with hate.”
“Are you ready?”
“I’m a dragon. We’re always ready.” Cynder lowered himself so we could all get on his back.
“Thank you for doing this, my friend,” I said, rubbing his smooth scales. “I know how you don’t like to give humans rides, as you’ve constantly reminded me that you’re not a horse.”
“I’m not doing this for you,” he said, and snorted smoke. His red eyes settled on the bag with the urn, cradled in my arm. “I’m doing this for him.”
I nodded.
The others climbed aboard Cynder. I handed the bag and staff to Prastian so I could scale Cynder’s hide. He wore a malicious grin, no doubt considering whether or not to leap up and fly with me halfway on. He’d done that before, while I held on for dear life.
“Look,” Cynder said in a low growl.
The princess stood near the edge of the soldiers’ barracks, surrounded by Guardsmen. Krystal pushed herself past them so she could get a better view. She waved at us before disappearing again.
I climbed on Cynder, wishing she could have said goodbye in a more intimate way. It didn’t matter. In a few days I would see her again, assuming all went well. I made sure my pack and purse straps were fastened across my body. I hugged Cynder’s long, red neck.
“Make sure your weapons and supplies are secure,” I said to my friends. “It gets rough up there in the cold wind.”
“Ready?” Cynder asked. Holding on to his neck, I could feel his booming voice reverberating beneath my hands.
My friends nodded, and I said, “Yes. Cynder, if you please.”
“Hang on, everyone,” Cynder said. “You’re in for the ride of your mortal life!”
The great dragon unfurled his wings, readying to take us back to the place where I first met him and learned how to utilize my powers and my destiny. Back to the White Mountain, where unknown dangers lurked.
CHAPTER 3
Cynder discharged a mighty roar. Everyone around us ceased their movements and ogled in awe. Cynder basked in the attention before flapping his great wings. The fiery dragon rose into the air. He cleared the castle wall, causing those standing on top of it to duck. His hanging tail grazed a building’s rooftop.
Cynder swooped over Alexandria, aiming southwest. The people of Alexandria were entranced by his flight, even though he caused complete chaos. Donkeys and horses panicked, threatening to run away. A cart of melons broke loose and spilled its cargo on the ground. A girl’s skirt flew up over her head. Yet despite all the trouble Cynder caused, the people didn’t panic or yell obscenities at him. However, I was about to.
“Cynder,” I said. “Stop showing off!”
The great dragon finally rose away from the city. He puffed dark smoke and flew into it, knowing it would make us cough and gag. He flew faster, and my face felt like it was going to peel off. We rose until I was granted a bird’s eye view of the landscape.
Cynder flapped his wings long and slow, decelerating his frantic speed. I took a moment to get used to the now gentle wind, ruffling through my hair. Birds scattered out of our way, Cynder blowing a stream of fire at those he deemed too slow. One bird narrowly avoided getting roasted alive. Deer in the forests below scampered away from the passing shadow, doing their best to hide in the dark greens.
The dragon rose until there was nothing but clear, blue sky encompassing us. I ducked my head behind Cynder’s to shield myself from the blinding light as we continued our flight to the White Mountain.
It took us less than half a day to fly back to the place that had been my home. While I had learned how to use my powers there, I had also found something far more in Stradus. I smiled, thinking about him. I had thought he was a rather strange old man when I first met him, but then he became a teacher, a friend, and something I had never known—a father.
The White Mountain was so named because centuries ago, my former master had captured the winter around the mountain. While spring and summer came in the surrounding lands, the mountain remained in eternal winter, as if frozen in time. While some were brave enough to explore it, none ever returned. That was due to Cynder, Stradus’s guardian. Stradus had stayed holed up in the mountain, studying references to the prophecies he’d once read in the Book of Shazul, waiting for me to fulfill my destiny.
I’d spent two years living in Stradus’s huge cave complex
at the top of the mountain. The last time I was there, it was to ask Stradus’s help in the battle to save Alexandria from Premier and the Wasteland creatures. Even though I knew it wouldn’t be the same without him, I still leaned eagerly forward for the first glimpse of my former home. But when I saw it, a shock shuddered through me. The White Mountain had transformed.
The slopes that were once smothered in cold, winter weather all year long were now splattered with spots of brown and white, as if a giant artist had dripped drops of paint on a canvas. As Cynder made a sweeping turn to land outside the cavern entrance, I saw a huge wall of snow break loose from an upper shelf, tumbling down the mountainside and crushing everything beneath it. The White Mountain was returning to its natural state, though it would take some time before there were enough trees and plants to support animal life. It had been centuries since the landscape was filled with warmth instead of winter.
Cynder twisted and swooped towards the entrance of the cave near the top. He settled on the ledge and lowered himself so we could all get off.
Demay walked to the edge of the ledge and peered up at the mountain. “What happened?”
“With Stradus’s death,” I said, “the magic’s gone.” I had known that would happen, but I hadn’t really thought about what it would mean.
“Be on guard, little ones,” Cynder said, gazing into the darkness of the caves. “While I am here to protect you, I no longer know what’s inside.”
Jastillian drew his axe and Behast his sword. Prastian and Demay readied arrows in their bows. I summoned mana, letting it hover near the surface of my body, where I could unleash it.
“I shall go first,” Cynder said. “But once we reach the end of the outer caverns, you’re on your own.” Cynder was too big to fit into the interior rooms that had housed me and Stradus. “Hellsfire, make yourself useful.”
I crept to the entrance of the cave. The wind howled inside and played havoc with my imagination. The black swallowed the incoming daylight. Without the torches that Stradus had magically kept burning, the only light came from this one giant opening. The White Mountain consisted of an extensive network of caves. Stradus never knew who built it, but he said he had encountered dangerous creatures when he first arrived.
I conjured my inner fire mana and spoke an incantation in the ancient language of Caleea. “God of fire and god of air, please kindle the torches inside of here.” Little streams of fire flowed out of my hands. They danced along the sides of the walls, skittering around until they lighted every hanging torch in the cavern.
The darkness lifted from the caves. No monsters awaited us, but Demay and Prastian had their bows high and raised, aiming into the tunnels. Their ears twitched, searching for any unnatural sound. After a few tense moments, the pair lowered their bows and we ventured in.
As we marched inside, the hairs on my arms stood up. Stradus wouldn’t be greeting me at the end of the trek with a warm smile on his face and a hot pot of tea. He was here, with me, his remains in the bag on my shoulder. Even though I had no idea what awaited me, I needed to go inside. Stradus must be laid to rest, and we needed to make the binding potion for Premier. My master had died to protect the world from Premier, and I had to finish his work.
I peeked up at Cynder, wondering if similar thoughts were going through his head. None of the others could ever understand. To them, the White Mountain was just a cold and desolate place. There were times when I had trouble reading Cynder’s reptilian face. This was one of them. He left me and continued to lead the way.
Part of me wished that Cynder had waited at the entrance. His loud footsteps reverberated throughout the cavern. While these sections of the caves were big enough to hold Cynder, he couldn’t fly. If there was something in here, it would now know we were here. A wisp of smoke leaked from Cynder’s nostrils. I might have been a fire wizard, but Cynder also knew how to create his own fire and could use it with deadly accuracy.
We split up into groups and searched the side tunnels. Behast was with me. His ears moved at every sound, mainly the dripping of the ice melting from the ceiling. Because of the way the torches danced and created shadows, I kept seeing monsters getting ready to jump out at me.
“I think I see something,” Behast whispered.
He met my eyes and pointed ahead. I nodded and he vanished from my side, disappearing into the darkness and circling around to our target. Because of the fire cradled in my hand, if there was anything out there, it would be drawn to me.
I crept forward, my body tensing, wanting to unleash the magic I had built up. When I thought I was close enough, I pushed the fire in my hand forward, illuminating the area.
Behast leapt out at the exact same time and yelled, raising his sword.
We froze when we saw what it was. I grinned at the bones of a cow Cynder had eaten, trying my best not to laugh.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Sometimes the light and the darkness play tricks on your eyes.”
Behast glowered at the pile of bones. He sheathed his sword and stomped away. As he passed, I glimpsed a small smile spreading across his face.
We all met back in the main tunnel. No one had found anything. There were no signs of creatures or tracks, nothing that was out of the ordinary. We trekked down the rest of the long tunnel.
I sighed as my eyes traced over the stony walls. I had loved living here, but now there was a dead feeling. There was no life or joy—only the moaning of the wind and the constant dripping of melting ice. Cynder seemed to notice it too, as he stomped forward with his head hung low.
The cave ended with a human-sized doorway. Cynder plopped down and curled himself up into a ball. I expected him to say a quip, but he was silent.
The door to the room was open. The others stepped in, but when Jastillian got to the entrance, he stopped. He ran his hand along the edge of the doorway and bent down, squinting at it.
“What’s wrong, Jastillian?” I asked.
“The design of these caves looks familiar. Did Stradus ever say who created them?”
I shook my head.
“It looks dwarven constructed, but we would not be this...sloppy,” he grumbled. “I haven’t read or seen any records of dwarves being in the White Mountain.” Jastillian stepped through the doorway and waited with the others.
I went to Cynder and asked, “Are you all right?”
He opened one eye and grunted. “I’m fine. Go do what you have to do. I’ll be here if you need me.”
I turned to leave, then paused. “I miss him too.”
“You would.” Cynder’s mouth twisted into a small smile. “Now go, and scream if you find anything.”
I walked through the doorway, half expecting a magical detection web to flash with its presence. There wasn’t one, of course. Stradus was dead and his magic with him. Webs were spells similar to what spiders wove, called so because of the magical threads used in their construction. They could be used to alert someone or keep something out.
I entered the small, comfy room and stared at the hearth. It was empty and cold, just like the room. The place wasn’t the same without Stradus’s guidance, his wisdom, his lessons, his presence, his magic. My eyes wandered around the room, remembering all the memories we’d shared.
My hands traced the wood grain of the stool where Stradus had once sat. He always seemed to have a kind and inviting face while we ate and chatted. I ran my fingers over the cold teapot on the table, grinning at how he always drank tea, no matter the time of day.
“Hellsfire,” Prastian said, tapping me on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m…just remembering things.”
I went to the closed door of Stradus’s old room. While I had explored most of the White Mountain complex, there was one place I hadn’t been in—Stradus’s old room. He’d had a web around it that not even I could undo without him noticing.
“Everyone stay here,” I said. “There’s something I must do.” I pointed to the open
doorway at the other side of the room. “Don’t go down there. We haven’t seen any creatures, but they could be lurking there, and I don’t want you to get lost in the tunnels.”
They guarded the entrance while I disappeared into my former master’s room. I pushed the wooden door open and it creaked in welcome. I had to light the torch in this room, since my fireballs couldn’t go through the door. While the rest of the cave was cold, dank, and lifeless, my old master’s presence was here. It was warm and inviting. I smiled at his ghostly embrace.
Stradus’s living quarters were small and felt cramped because they were packed full of items. Open books and parchment papers were scattered on a desk. Candlesticks, wooden figurines, polished gems, an eagle’s claw, a blue dragon’s scale and even a feather or two had buried another table. I thought Stradus would have been a little cleaner than this because of how strict he was in his training and how clean his library and garden were.
Before I could see what else he had, a rush of magical energy emanated from the room. It closed all around me before it struck. I had felt that energy many times before when I trained with Stradus. The magical colors washed over me, then coalesced into a tiny ball. The ball zigzagged through the air until it reached the bed and dispersed upon a small wooden chest laid on top of it.
I cleared a spot on the desk and set down the bag with the urn and staff. I went to the chest, examining it for any magical traps. It would be just like Stradus to have one, to see if I had learned his lesson about caution. There was none. I put my hand on the chest and opened it. Inside were two smaller boxes draped in magic.
The enchantment sparkled and sizzled around both boxes. The two different magics were very powerful for things so small. One box had the hint of air magic surrounding it, Stradus’s strongest mana. The other one hummed with unknown magic. I reached for the one that reminded me of Stradus.