Dragon Magic

by Megan Derr

  "I never had plans to kill anyone. I never even meant to keep the dragon magic secret. I merely wanted to confirm whether or not it was a viable option before bothering to mention it."

  Sule's mouth tightened. "If that were true, Mahzan would have read it in your mind."

  "Are you sure about that?"

  "Yes, actually," Sule said. "Mahzan reads minds like birds read the wind. Your mind has always been a challenge, but never an impossibility." He looked away into the fire. "Really, though, that was just the grain that tipped the scale. We were a disaster waiting to happen."

  "You don't believe that."

  Sule shrugged, didn't look away from the fire.

  "If you believed we were a disaster, and breaking apart inevitable, why are you here trying to drink yourself to death—and why were you able to use your flames in a way you never could before the Oath? The whole town is talking about it."

  Cemal snorted. "More like whispering about it, as if they're afraid of what will happen if you should hear them."

  "What are you talking about?" Sule asked. But memories flickered. His father. People trying to stone him. Melting the rocks. Then… A fight. Someone had drawn a sword. Then he'd…

  Sule swallowed. "I couldn't have done that. Any of it. I was drunk, for one, and fire magic is volatile enough when sober. There's no way I had the control to melt rocks—that's dragon fire, for Dragon's sake. And to shape fire…I don't even know how, and I'm no shaper, anyway."

  "It's not a shaper ability, though it's certainly reminiscent," Binhadi replied. "You're always molding flame, you just don't realize because you don't think of it as shapes, just the way fire should look—like the fireballs, which just make it easier to lob at a target. Nothing you could do with ordinary fire, but fire magic, certainly. I would imagine now there will be very little stopping you."

  "Nobody needs a flame sword," Sule muttered. "It's stupid." But he couldn't deny his fingers twitched with the urge to try. He should probably sober up and wash first, though. "So you weren't out to murder us, Mahzan overreacted, then I overreacted, and now here we are. A bunch of manipulative cowards with nowhere else to go." He kicked the floor with the heel of his boot.

  Cemal sighed. "We were all in fine form, that's for certain. I've never known a person less capable of cowardice or manipulation than you, Sule. You're one of the bravest, most honest people I know."

  "Yes, it takes so much bravery to hide behind lies instead of stepping forward and demanding people accept me," Sule said bitterly. "So very brave to cloak myself in North Captain so that people will be too afraid to cross me." He leaned back and looked at the ceiling, then forced himself to look at Binhadi. "Stupid to take issue with you for being intimidating when I have long worked to be the same."

  Binhadi shook his head. "I would never wish what people think of me on you. People like and respect you; that's better than being afraid you will murder them in your sleep."

  "You're not a cold-blooded killer. Even hungover and still sort of drunk, I know that," Sule said. "From what little I know of your history, it sounds like you're a man who never had good choices. So why did you react so angrily when your friend mentioned it?"

  Binhadi sighed. "Panic. Pure, old-fashioned panic. I knew Mahzan would assume the worst, I realized I should have mentioned it sooner… I'm arrogant, not infallible."

  "So you did plan to use this crazy dragon magic?"

  "If it was possible, if it could be done without killing us, and if everyone agreed to try it, yes," Binhadi said.

  Sule stared at him, too many things churning through his mind. "Is any of this revenge?"

  "Seda murdered thousands of people, of course it's revenge to a certain degree. But personal revenge? No. Regret, maybe, but not revenge."

  "You used to be friends."

  "Yes," Binhadi said softly. "Friends. Lovers. We just didn't know that we were also brothers until far too late." Slowly, haltingly, he told Sule all about Seda, how he'd been the one the last king had truly declared heir, all that had resulted because of it.

  Sule's fingers twitched with the urge to do something when he finally fell silent. "Dragon, and I thought being disowned was hard."

  "I think you could rival me for betrayal and heartache," Binhadi said wryly, "but we came to find you in the hope of convincing you that you don't have to worry about either of those things anymore, not so long as we're around."

  Cemal crossed the room to join them. "And so long as you stop trying to drink your problems away."

  "It was that or pick enough fights to get myself dead, and fights hurt," Sule said, and rubbed at his forehead. "Though I will definitely reconsider the drinking next time we have a spat." He dropped his hand and looked up. "I was certain I'd just punch you and walk off if you dared to show your face." He looked at Binhadi. "Same with you."

  "Punch me and see what happens."

  Sule grinned briefly, then dragged himself to his feet. "Can I have a proper bath now?"

  Cemal stepped aside and swept him an elegant bow. Sule rolled his eyes and strode past him toward the bath. He stripped off his filthy clothes and dropped them in a pile. Climbing into the bathtub, he sank into it with a long groan. "I'm staying here forever."

  "We'll see what you say when the water goes cold."

  Snorting, Sule replied, "I'm a fire mage: I'll just warm it back up."

  Cemal shook his head but smiled.

  Sule set to work cleaning himself—starting with cutting his hair down close to his head again. Dragon, he hated when his hair grew out.

  When he looked up a few minutes later to ask why the others had gone so quiet, it was to see the answer for himself: Binhadi and Cemal quietly kissing in front of the fireplace, and Dragon wasn't that a pretty image. Binhadi like a living shadow, Cemal so pale he seemed spun from snow. Binhadi in the garb of a man who focused on magic, Cemal in the dress of a man who could fight with blade as easily as magic.

  At that, he wore a new sword belt, and a new, impressive sword. It was better even than Sule's, and he'd saved for two years after becoming a soldier to buy himself a high quality sword.

  Rinsing off, Sule climbed out of the tub and dried off. He found a pile of clean clothes nearby, even a binder. His hands trembled as he dressed. The more time passed, the stupider all their fighting seemed, even if it had felt anything but stupid at the time.

  When he was finished, he returned to the fireplace, where Cemal had stolen his seat. "I half expected you to be in his lap by this point."

  "There's food to eat, and I would hardly be so rude as to sit on Binhadi when there's no room for you," Cemal replied with a smirk.

  Sule hated the way his face went hot. Pretending for a moment he'd believed they could all reconcile, he hadn't thought they would be resuming any of that. Certainly he had no more interest in doing anything to or with that condescending little ass who'd left without hesitation or compunction, hadn't thought he or Cemal were worth staying for if Binhadi wasn't. "I have no plans to sit on anyone's lap," he finally said, and turned away to see if his stomach would keep down any of the wonderful smelling food.

  He'd gotten three steps when his arm was grabbed and he was spun around. The threat on his lips was prevented by way of Cemal's warm mouth. A heavy, calloused hand curved around the back of his neck to gently hold him in place, but Sule was still too startled to think of breaking free.

  He'd already known Cemal was an expert kisser, but firsthand knowledge was something completely different from vivid memories, even memories of the strength Mahzan provided. Cemal kissed like he talked: confident, a little playful, and plenty eager.

  When he was finally able to draw back, Sule said, "What do you priests really get up to in your temples?"

  "What do you think?" Cemal asked, and dragged him into a kiss that was much filthier than the first, leaving Sule wet and aching for things he was in no condition to try.

  "I think you priests have a lot of nerve preaching about the pitfalls of lust,"
Sule said when he drew away again. "Now leave me alone, I want food."

  Cemal laughed and let him go. Binhadi watched them from his seat, eyes pensive but not as cold and closed off as they'd always been before. Sule turned away to go sit at the table. He started with bread, and when that stayed in his stomach, moved on to cheese and olives. By the time he worked his way up to the roasted fowl, he was almost feeling human again, instead of like a warm corpse.

  "Where did you get the fancy sword and leathers, priest?" he asked as he drained his third cup of tea.

  "A temple we stopped at before coming here." Cemal looked down at his armor, which consisted of chest and back pieces, as well as bits for his arms and good boots. They were dyed a rich, dark blue, woven with silver stitching, laid over an under tunic of dark gray. The sword belt was black with silver buckles, and the sword itself had a black and blue woven hilt, with a blue stone set in the base of the pommel. A long sword, by the look of it, which would suit Cemal, who wasn't tiny. He didn't have Sule's height, but he had more heft. "Apparently it's traditional Avatar garb. Been tricky learning to shift with it, but I'm getting there."

  Sule forgot all about refilling his tea. "Shift? You're doing more shifting? Like the wolf thing you turned into?"

  Cemal nodded. "Yes. So far I can do that, an actual wolf, and a griffon. I may try horse next. That seems like it would have its uses. Nobody minds what they say around a horse." He tapped his chin. "Or maybe something small; so far I've only done large creatures."

  "A griffon? You mentioned that before." Sule stood. "I want to see."

  Binhadi laughed. Honest to Dragon openly laughed. Sule stared. Binhadi quirked a brow. "You can see him shift into a griffon once we're well away from here. It would be a trifle conspicuous to do it in town, and certainly this room is too small."

  "Since when do you laugh like that?" Sule asked.

  Binhadi's lingering smiled faltered a bit. "I am trying to be less terrifying."

  "You were never terrifying to begin with," Cemal said, shooting Sule a look.

  Sule lifted his hands. "I wasn't criticizing. Laughter is a good look on you, Lord Solemn. I'm glad you weren't killed by Mahzan's stupid damned overreaction. Or my shitty healer training." He grimaced and resumed his seat, poured a fresh cup of tea, and refilled his plate. "So where are we headed next? Do you know where our erstwhile fool has fled?"

  "I have a fairly good idea," Binhadi replied. "About a week of travel from here, give or take a few days. The ruins of—"

  "Terem City," Sule finished. "Of course that's where he went, the melodramatic ass." Terem City had been destroyed a little over a hundred years ago for reasons unknown, save the disaster had been incited by one of the greatest mind mages to ever live. He was going to break Mahzan's nose simply for being so ridiculous in his sulking. "When do we leave?"

  Cemal replied, "As soon as you're up for it."

  "Tomorrow, then. I haven't remotely enjoyed being back here, and nobody here has enjoyed having me. My father regrets trying to talk sense into me, I don't doubt."

  Binhadi smiled his shadow mage smile. "We encountered your father at the tavern."

  Sule scowled. "Did he come back for more?"

  "He seemed determined to talk to you, that's all I know," Binhadi said. "I assume you put the bruise on his jaw?"

  "He's lucky I didn't break it. Did you speak to him? Why? What happened?" Sule wasn't certain he wanted to know, and he was regretting all the food and tea he'd just consumed.

  Binhadi shrugged. "I told him you were with us."

  Cemal snorted. "He implied heavily that you were his lover, and he wasn't going to take kindly to slurs against your person. Your father muttered something about being glad you were in good hands before a woman who I think was his wife dragged him away."

  "I see." Sule swallowed, not certain what to say, or even what to think. All his life he'd wanted just one person who accepted him without question or hesitation. For one night he'd had three. Then he'd lost them. Now two of them had returned, and the Warlock Binhadi himself had essentially just told all of Shimoor Hollow that the village disgrace was his lover. "Binhadi…"

  When Binhadi didn't say anything, in fact seemed to hesitate over what to say or do, Sule strode across the room, yanked the halfwit from his chair, and kissed him hard enough to bruise their lips. "Thank you."

  Binhadi touched his face, dark eyes intense and lovely. "Thank you."

  Sule kissed him again, then let go and stepped back. "Speaking of managing things, what is this place costing us? I know we have funds and that ring of yours, but we don't usually seek accommodations like this."

  Reclaiming his seat, Binhadi replied, "Eser supplied us with funds aplenty. We'll want for nothing the rest of the journey."

  "What do we owe her for that?"

  "Nothing. She's in my debt, financially speaking, and she wouldn't care even if she wasn't. All Eser wants is to live in peace without having to go around in a drugged stupor." Binhadi took a sip of wine. "Enough of that. Now that you are revived, let us see what you can do with your magic."

  Sule blew out a breath and scowled. "You're not serious."

  "Perfectly serious. If I give you too much time to think about it, you'll just find it harder to do."

  "How can I do it at all with the Oath broken?"

  Cemal shook his head. "It's not broken, merely dormant."

  "Can I still blame Mahzan?"

  Cemal grinned. "That would be the accurate place to put it."

  "I'm gonna shove a fire sword through his gut, I swear."

  "Not if you don't know how to form one whenever you want," Binhadi said.

  "Shut up." Sule drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, focused on his magic. Fire was a thing of the moment, or starting a campfire, lighting candles. It was useful, dangerous, but perfectly mundane. Nothing as flashy and interesting as shadows, shaping, and reading minds.

  He stepped away from them, into the center of the room where there was plenty of space. Calling up a ball of fire to hover over his hand was as easy as uncurling a fist. But how to go from that to a sword… It still seemed impossible, the workings of an alcohol-fueled dream.

  "What provoked you to draw the sword?" Binhadi asked softly.

  "I don't…" Sule closed his eyes as memories flickered, blurry and shadowed, but… "They drew first, came at me. I meant to throw plain old fire at them." He slung his arm back, then thrust it forward—nothing but the fire he kept in his palm. "I don't—"

  "Try this!"

  Sule whipped around, cried out in surprise at the blade arching toward him, swung up—

  And fire sparked and flared against glimmering steel.

  Sule yelled and the fire blade in his hand vanished. He stared wide-eyed at Cemal. "You stupid bastard!" He surged forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. "What were you thinking! I could have killed you! You could have killed me! I should break your fucking nose. I may yet do it!"

  "Again," Binhadi said calmly, unperturbed as Sule's ire snapped to him. "My shadows won't let anything untoward happen, and Cemal's blade is well guarded against things as trivial as fire. The armor too. The priests clearly know how to go about keeping their Avatars as safe as possible."

  "Fuck you both," Sule said, and roughly let Cemal go before stepping back.

  He summoned a ball of fire again, but this time clung to the anger that Cemal would behave so recklessly, the fear that he was about to come to serious harm, if not get himself killed. The despair that had driven him to try drinking himself to death, how fucking mad he still was at Mahzan. He poured all of it into his magic, then whipped his hand forward one last time—

  And stared in wonder at the blade of fire in his hand. It had no hilt, but there was a grip of sorts. The rest was shaped like a sword blade, but 'sharp' on both ends, shimmering red-orange with flickering hints of white and blue and green. "How…"

  "Beautiful," Cemal said, voice a touch breathless. He drew closer and hovered a hand over
it. "At least as hot as the fireplace. Incredible. It doesn't burn you?"

  Sule shook his head. "No, it's warm, bordering on hot, but bearable. I don't know if that would change with time." He waved it tentatively about, feeling the waves of heat rolling off it. Finally he brought it upright in a military stance, and stared at Cemal and Binhadi past it. "I wonder what else I could do." The words reminded him of what else he had done. "I melted rock."

  "Dragon fire," Cemal said. "We heard, though I wouldn't have believed it if the story had been about anyone but you."

  "They threw—" Sule broke off, eyes stinging, throat raw and hands trembling. "They threw rocks at me. I melted all of them. Nearly burned down the whole street."

  "They would have deserved it, the cowards," Binhadi replied coldly. "I think here is not the place to try that one again, even if I know you're capable of containing it."

  Sule nodded. "Agreed." He let go of the sword, and it vanished in curls of steam. His shoulders sagged as exhaustion washed over him, a combination of the past many days, his crude awakening, and everything that had happened since. "I think I need to go back to bed." He swayed on his feet, but before he could meet the ground, Binhadi and Cemal were at his sides. He clung tightly until the world stopped spinning, then slowly opened his eyes, only to meet Binhadi's entrancing eyes, happy they were not nearly as sad as they'd been before everything had gone so wrong. "I'm glad you're here."

  "I'm glad you were willing to give me another chance," Binhadi said softly.

  "Yes, well, I wasn't exactly at my finest either." Sule leaned in and kissed him, tasting wine and honey. Binhadi almost felt cool, but that was probably just nonsense or the fact Sule was always warm. He kissed with the same arrogance he displayed everywhere else, but also with the same meticulousness—and skill enough Sule moaned.

  Cemal pressed up behind him, warm and heavy, arms holding him up when the world spun again.

  Sule eventually opened his eyes again, and realized they'd moved to bed. Cemal and Binhadi stripped him of the clothes he'd just put on and got him into bed. They both kissed him again, and Cemal pulled the blankets up. Sule settled in, too lethargic all of a sudden to move or even speak, but he was happy to watch for a little while as Cemal and Binhadi resumed their seats at the fire, smiling and talking like old friends—old lovers. And every now and then they looked back at him and shared the smiles, and Sule's mouth was curved in the same as he finally drifted into sleep.