Wind Magic

by Nicolette Jinks

  “So, the hormones, are they on a cycle? Or does something trigger it, like the hours of daylight or the seasons?”

  Nieve shrugged. “A dragon-body copulation gets the hormones started. You’ll have a week or so.”

  “Well, if that’s what they really meant by getting me in the air today...” I wasn’t sure if I was angry. Annoyed, definitely.

  “It’s tradition. Only in recent years have a few of us at the Thaumaturgical Society started to track endangered races and their bodies.” Nieve saw my interest and continued, “Many people don’t trust us yet, the society sprouted from Victorian clubs which were not all that scientific, nor all that ethical. We’re still rooting out a few degenerates. Membership, for now, is kept secret until we can clear our name and tidy up in-house. I’m trying to work on fertility issues. The European Unicorn and the Roe Unicorn are two other groups I’m working with.” She touched my knee, the motion entreating. “I’d appreciate if you refrain from speaking about it.”

  “Does Mordon know?”

  She gave a tense smile, as if she hadn’t planned to even tell me. “He’d be worried. For me, for anyone in the Colony. What I call a test subject, he calls a victim.” She shrugged. “I’ve been taking my own blood samples and making notes. It is a start. The last thing I want is for anyone to come to harm, but we need to understand our own bodies in order to help them when things go wrong.”

  “I agree wholeheartedly, but maybe you will reach a point when secrecy is a hindrance rather than a protector.”

  “Yes, but for now, we have to do what we can.” She folded her hand into her lap and went quiet. Minutes slid by without us saying a word.

  I contemplated what she’d said. The last generation, Mordon’s generation, had been set by Enaid who had raised three children. From what I saw of people my age, there weren’t a great deal of us. Most of the colony was at least ten years older than Mordon, most far older than that, which indicated that the previous generations had preferred to have clutches rather than live births.

  Perhaps live births were safer—wasn’t that a frightening thought unto itself—but they must have driven down the birth rate immensely. Of the political ties, it was clear to me that Kragdomen stood on its own. Given the disturbance of Commandant Cole in the magical world, that isolation would make it easy for him to pick off individual groups one by one. Alliances could be easily broken, but they weren’t easy to make when they mattered most.

  I asked, “What of the ones who can’t shift? The children hatched in the dragon bodies, I mean.”

  Nieve sat taller, glad to be on a subject she was comfortable with. “It’s time we make a home for all of them. No matter if they can shift or not.”

  I got the feeling that this was a very progressive stance, one that she was often challenged on. As I couldn’t think of a good reason to turn out the non-shifters, I nodded. “I think you’re right.”

  “Well, then, it’s settled.”

  “What is?”

  “We will begin the revolution. If we’re both sitting on eggs, there are others who will surely follow in our example.”

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling a little numb with the idea of planning this out. “So, how would this work?”

  She shrugged. “We talk about our human body and dragon body as if they aren’t connected, but they are. You can start your dragon cycle by getting your human body pregnant, then shifting as soon as you can. The hormones take care of everything from there. The original egg is largest and becomes the firstborn, the rest follow after.”

  “Oh.”

  Nieve laughed at my expression. “You’ll be fine.”

  “You know, earlier today I was just minding my own business and thinking about what I’d be doing tonight, right?”

  “Too bad Caledon put a kink in that plan, then,” Nieve said. She snuffed out the lamp and said, “To bed. You’ll be exhausted tomorrow if you stay up any later tonight.”

  “You act as if I could sleep after that conversation.”

  “You’ll sleep. The lateral roll will ensure that.”

  Though I wasn’t so sure about her unending confidence, I decided not to argue with her. I stood. My knees buckled so I had to grasp onto the sofa for stability. Nieve was soon was proven right, once I laid down and shut my eyes.

  I dreamed.

  I was in my barn, the place I had gone to get away from the world when I needed a break or when I was lost or tired. It was where my ghost and I spent many a day remodeling, fixing busted boards, gathering old newspapers and discarded magazines to fill the wall with.

  In my dream, the barn was finished. It had a roof, and counters that weren’t plywood, and a set of cabinetry. A mouse slept in a teacup house on the windowsill, and I greeted him by name. He yawned, stretched, and donned a tiny wool vest that was hung up on a piece of thread between two nails. Outside the window, I saw trees budding alongside red and yellow leaves that were falling on the wind, and a hand with skin like bark and nails like blossoms reached out to us, but I was not afraid.

  The scene changed with a violent wind.

  The swirling wind abandoned me, let me fall through nothingness until I slammed into something hard, unforgiving. It hurt. All of it hurt.

  The world was dark, dark and cold and I was alone in it. Alone and sitting in the corner, or perhaps I was running. It was hard to tell what I was doing, but I think my body was running and my heart was cowering, wrapped up in a blanket and trying to hide from the world, begging, secretly screaming though my lips did not make a sound. There was something following me, someone following me, and it was closer and closer, a hand of blackened, hardened leather with red nails and flesh falling from it like some decomposing disease. It smelled. It smelled of blood and fear and joy. It smelled of decomposition, It smelled, somehow, of greed.

  I woke up entangled in a sheep skin. I fought with myself, looking in the shadows for those teeth, staring for a while at a stone that looked like long claws. I stared at the cavern, adjusting to the light and becoming familiar with the surrounds. My eyes were wet, and I laid still for several long minutes, listening to my heart and telling myself that the nightmare was over. My heart still pounded even after I told myself I was awake, and that not only was I awake, but that I had turned aside the creature. The thing. The man.

  What was it? Why did the dream feel as though it was happening, or that it had already happened?

  I dried my tears, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the creature was not gone. I was cold, broken out in a sweat, and very afraid in spite of myself. I listened for any sign of movement, but all I heard was the slow drip-drop of rain against a window.

  The next morning was wretched. I’d slept too hard for too long, and my mind felt as clogged as a werewolf’s shower drain. When I limped to the sofa and sat down, my butt was jabbed by something hard and lumpy. A teething ring. The house smelled of talc powder and lavender, then faintly of milk. There came the pounding of the shower through the curtain covering the doorway, and a combination of baby noises and Nieve as she played with him.

  It really wasn’t a bad awakening except for the gnawing hunger souring my mood. I ate three fat balls before I realized what I was doing and reached the conclusion that it really couldn’t be healthy to binge on them. The question was if I dared to go to the mead hall alone. Should I encounter Caledon along the way, I hated to think what scene would arise.

  I was wondering if Nieve had all that was necessary to make brew when Denise appeared through the curtain with an entire pot of something that was without a doubt very healthy.

  “For me?” I asked, anticipating a less than appealing substance.

  “Nest told me to make sure you drank it,” Denise said, dropping it onto the coffee table. “Before you come to the mead hall.”

  “Do you know what it is?”

  She made a face. “Brew, but it’s made with the strongest mineral water. It tastes like chalk.”

  She was right. Mostly. I gritted m
y teeth. “You forgot to mention the citrus and blood aftertaste.”

  Denise sank into the chair across from me. “I like that, though.”

  “I’ll bet you also like steaks so rare, they’re still mooing.”

  “Huh?” Denise stared at me, utterly confused, then she burst into laughter. “Still mooing. Ha!”

  The shower shut off, and presently a damp Nieve and baby made their appearance in fresh clothes. Nieve sat beside me and asked, “How do you feel this morning?”

  I shrugged. “Normal, if a bit achy.”

  Denise stopped swinging her feet. “What was it like?”

  “What was what like?”

  “You know. Being flown.”

  I glanced at Nieve, to see how I should respond. Nieve held up her hands and offered me absolutely no help at all.

  I said, “Well, there were shooting stars and emotional explosions—”

  “Fera! Come on, tell me. I was watching and I know what you and Druidan did.” She waited, then added, “I haven’t told anyone. Yet.”

  “You think I care if you do?”

  Denise didn’t reply, pouted a lip.

  “Next time, don’t you even think of trying to threaten me. Capisce?”

  “Capisce?”

  “It’s Italian. I’m asking if you understand.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Good. To answer your question seriously, it was rather anticlimactic. Not really like the human body.”

  “And what’s that like?”

  I considered evading her question, decided against it. “Depends on your partner and your relationship. It’s an amplifier. If you have a good relationship, it’ll improve it. If you have a bad one, it’ll make it worse. Some people are more skilled than others, and some just click with you better. Some people don’t care about you at all, and they’ll hurt you. You shouldn’t stay with someone who proves they can be mean on occasion.”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because they makes you want to win their approval. They’ll say nice things, too, but they want all the things they like about you and none of the things they don’t like. You’ll think they have high standards. That if you try harder, your relationship will be better, but it isn’t you who has to work harder. They’ll whittle your confidence with the right comment at a vulnerable time. They’ll argue with you when they’re wrong, until you’re apologizing to them. It’ll go on until you’re a shadow of yourself.”

  Denise was staring at me very intently. Too late, I realized that I’d been teaching her to question things and now she was analyzing me. I dreaded when she opened her mouth, because I knew it was going to be spot-on.

  She said, “Who was the asshole who did that to you?”

  “Denise!”

  She tipped up her head and said, “Asshole. Jerk. Kuwaithe. Nollis.” Her words spilled into an incoherent jumble of drake name-calling, all the while she sat calmly as if challenging me to stop her. I waited as Nieve burst into laughter. When she finally did stop, I asked,

  “Do you have that off your chest? Feel better?”

  “Yes. I do. You should try it. You’re too nice for your own good.”

  I shook my head. “Name calling puts me into a rage.”

  “So, what’s it feel like? To—you know?”

  I had to admire her tenacity. “Rather like kissing, but far more intense.”

  “So be careful who you do it with?”

  “Definitely.”

  She blinked, came to a decision. “I’m going to curse the asshole.”

  “Denise!” Her abrupt navigation of the conversation had me reeling.

  “You won’t. You’re too nice.” She lowered her voice. “I know how to make his butt crack itch every time he hears a certain word.”

  Of course she did. It was probably one of those forbidden jokes she swapped with others her age. “What word would you pick?”

  “Probably ‘and’ or ‘the’ since those two are used all the time.”

  “Good thing I won’t say who he is, then, and you’ll never meet him.”

  She clenched her fist. “I will find out. You mark my words.”

  I finished what drink was left in the pot. “Let’s go.”

  The table had been repositioned to be across the width of the mead hall instead of along the longest wall. The Elders were talking to whoever sat at their table. The bench opposing them was packed tightly with bodies and people hushing one another to hear. No one took notice of me, and I stayed put to see what was happening.

  A new man sat at the Elder’s table, someone far too young to belong on the right hand of Aeron. He had pale hair the color of ripened wheat and eyes that were green-blue. I supposed he might be about Mordon’s age, but I was learning that in the drake world, age truly was just a number. In any case, there was a distinct look about him which was simply different from anyone in the colony. It could have been his clothes, but the shape of his jaw was narrower than usual, and his skin was faintly olive-toned.

  Mordon sat at the narrow east end of the table, Caledon on the far end at the west. Neither were in a pleasant mood. Mordon’s expression darkened as Caledon spoke.

  “Her preference is to the complete exclusion of me. It’s fair that we should be paired as she is in training. She doesn’t even know me. How can we know that my brother hasn’t been lying to her about me? She said bad things about me, and she doesn’t know me enough to say them.”

  “When Fera and I talk, we don’t waste our sweet nothings on you,” Mordon countered, his face a little flushed.

  Caledon continued as if he hadn’t heard Mordon speak. “All I’m asking for is equal opportunity. Is that too much to ask? He has a head start. Who is to say that she won’t like me better once she gets to know me? The ring could have been for either one of us. I know how to treat a girl, and it’ll be the best time of her life. Mordon knows this, that’s why he won’t let me see her.”

  “It’s not about me not letting you see her. It’s that she doesn’t want to see you.”

  “Of course she doesn’t after the way you have lied to her.”

  The Elders rose, cutting off what must have been the end to a very long debate with the exact same words being exchanged. Aeron said, “We have decided. A mating flight must take place in a neutral location with neutral oversight.”

  There was a bubbling response from the crowd and complainants, completely muffling Aeron’s ability to speak until he just began talking. The noise died off to hear what he was saying.

  “… First Order has offered to host our flight. This is Firan, Lord Heir of the Heathvale Settlement and our invitation to the First Order. He arrived last night.”

  I wondered if he had arrived before or after the interference from Caledon, but since the castle had doubtless been buzzing about the incident, it didn’t matter.

  Caledon spoke first. “This is a break in tradition. We won’t spoil our customs.”

  “The First Order has provided us a great honor, and it benefits the Colony to accept this opportunity to strengthen bonds with nearby drake populations,” Aeron said.

  The debate began afresh, but this time Caledon was heated enough that he didn’t wait for his father to stop talking before he started. The compounding arguments for Caledon to be quiet turned the table into a general ruckus.

  Firan glanced my way, met my gaze. I wondered what went on behind those eyes, what he must think of this situation.

  Druidan touched my elbow, making me jump. He leaned to my ear and said, “You must leave. Caledon will not accept this peacefully. You must go. Meet the brothers at the First Order. But now, just go. Say nothing, tell no one. If Caledon is not distracted by looking for you, he will turn his attentions to Mordon.”

  My heart skipped a few beats. I whispered, “What?”

  Druidan continued in his low voice, “Just go. Anyplace quiet and safe. Do not call for Mordon. I will tell him not to look for you. I promise, anywhere Mordon goes, Caledon will be close
behind. If you must speak to someone, talk to Enaid, Nest or me.”

  I didn’t want to say it, but I could tell from the way Caledon was raising his voice in full presence of the Elders that Druidan was right. As much as I hated it, the wisest thing to do was to go.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Last call for bets! Best odds two-to-one on Flaming Turbo!”

  I heard the call through the pub door, even as it cut through the hum of the amplifying spell for the local band performing for the night.

  The back room of the Mermaid’s Tale was filled with green smoke tonight, tinting the air with an incense that made the patrons laugh easily. When I asked an attendant about it, he just asked if I had a bet to place for the next race, which would start in a half hour.

  “Long odds on Charlie Boy, set yourself up for a big win! You never know when a snail will surprise the lot.”

  When I’d arrived at my barn, I hadn’t even unpacked my bag of books when I’d found a fresh note from Death. It had been on the work counter, all black with its shining white letters. Its message was simple: go to the Mermaid's Tale for the nightly races. An old friend would be waiting in the back room.

  So I sat there now, my books spread out on the glossy table before me as if I were in college again and I were studying for exams. While this was no place to cast anything serious, I could read in the soothing low lights of the pub. Its warm, dark colors and plush seats would have made for an ideal study nook.