Wind Magic

by Nicolette Jinks

  I paused, a finger on my lip as I looked back over my shoulder in a pose that showed off my figure the best. “I think you’re even now. Maybe. Valerin's already tickled my neck mid-flight, after all. And, his ring fits.”

  That elicited the appropriate calls and whistles, including a cheering thump on the back from Issa. In fact, she seemed rather proud of me, whereas before she had never indicated that I was anything to her except a mild annoyance. Playing this wooing game seemed to actually matter in a settlement’s standing with its peers. Fascinating.

  Firan had to raise his voice to reach me. “I think I might like watching my drink every night.”

  I tutted, put my hands on my knees, and said, “Aww, you only think you might like it? Well, you’re behind the game, honey. I’ve got far more serious proposals to consider. Men who would love to watch every drink they have around me. I don’t think you’ve got what it takes to keep up with me, baby doll.”

  A man cleared his throat from behind me, and I realized that with my current position in relation to the length of my dress and rather unladylike behavior, this was an awkward position. I shrieked with laughter and found Gudovan deliberately looking elsewhere.

  “Gudovan, I’m so happy to see you. I was hoping to find someone who could keep the boys in line. Would you?” I asked, thoroughly embarrassed. I wasn’t sure what he would say, but I should have known.

  “Ha, ha, ha. These boys are nothing to your good host Gudovan. I offer you my arm, and Milord Heathvale will offer you his ale.”

  I took his arm.

  The hurdy gurdy startled me with its first crank. I hadn’t realized how close we were to the festivities until I nearly walked past the band setting up in the rotted out hollow of a massive redwood. The musicians wore face paint and a style that could only be classed as nature punk, with spiked hair or dreadlocks or hair teased into a tangled Afro, their clothes and bodies studded with plenty of metal and hung with feathers, leaves, moss, whatever. One girl in skintight trousers had an entire bird’s nest in her hair complete with a brown wren which chirped as she tapped out a beat on her drum.

  Padded benches were situated in a circle around a fire pit lined with stones and topped with an iron cage. The tips of flames spiked between the bars as the wood beneath popped and snapped. Gudovan and I sat nearest the fire, and I eagerly looked for a stick to poke the fire with.

  “Careful when you jab the beast’s eye,” Gudovan warned in the same tone he used on youngsters.

  “If you don’t jab the eye, you don’t know if it’s dead or not.”

  He smiled. “Ha, ha, ha. No. Woe fall to the hunter who forgets to check if his doe is dead.”

  Wrens were everywhere, now I noticed, as if Reyes Settlement raised the birds on site. Their feathers left a fine dusting of color everywhere they went, a glistening bioluminescent powder of some kind.

  When a bird landed on Gudovan’s shoulder and nibbled on his ear, I stroked a finger over his neck to catch the powder. The wren gave an irritated squawk and left, but I had the color coating my fingertips. I rubbed it between thumb and forefinger, admiring its iridescence.

  “It is butterfly scale,” Gudovan said before I had to ask. “The butterflies have clear wings, yes? Scales give them big, beautiful colors. Our birds, they have scales and clear feathers, too, like butterflies. When it is on the bird, all the colors appear dark to keep the bird warm, but off the bird, we see many colors. We study why these birds have these scales. They are very old birds. Some people think, we too used to have them on our wings.” He motioned to the man taking a seat. “Firan, for instance, we think is such a throwback to an earlier time. His flesh tone is lighter than his scale tone, makes a stunning impact. Those scales are softer. It makes him pretty, but he is not as hard as the armored drakes. Not as sound in combat. Makes you think the first drakes were peaceful, hm?”

  “It does,” I said.

  A woman sauntered over to us and sat on the bench on my other side. “Not talking about birds again, are you, Reyes?” She took my hand, and I wasn’t sure if she was going to shake it or kiss it. She did neither, seemingly debating that question herself. “I am Glyka of Kiasden. You are Milady Feraline? Not from a place?”

  I smiled. “I suppose if you wanted to attach my name to a home, you could say I’m from the Wildwoods, but I was not raised there. My father is Magnus, my mother is a fey, and I was raised amongst humans.”

  “I do not know Magnus,” Glyka said. “The Wildwoods are not hospitable towards us.”

  “Not in particular, no.”

  “Then how did you find us? Firan mentioned that you had Valerin’s brood-ring?”

  I blushed and felt Mordon’s ring with my other hand. “It happened that I got two brood-rings, but I learned of this place through my friendship with Selestiani and Julius.”

  “And you have decided to hold a mating, but you do not intend to return home to Valerin.”

  “Ah, no.”

  “It is nothing to be ashamed about.” She grinned at our host. “I interrupted before Gudovan could speak of his birds.”

  Gudovan made a rolling motion with his hand and said, “You are doing well, Glyka. You say it.”

  She stuck out her tongue at him. “You can boss anyone here around, but you won’t boss me.”

  I cut off the both of them before they could get too distracted. “Am I to assume this has to do with birds pair bonding for life and sharing their responsibilities, but having outside dalliances?”

  Glyka nodded. “I thought that if you did not know, we should tell you. Selestiani is delicate with their education, and the rest of us are not. I see you have had this conversation?”

  “I suppose that you want to know who with?” I asked, and noticed that we’d attracted a crowd—at the very least, it was everyone who had expressed an interest in me, as well as people who accompanied them. I twirled Mordon’s ring around my finger again. “I wanted to make some new friends here before I got into that.”

  “Got into what?” Glyka asked, her eyes narrowing already. If I delayed talking any longer, they’d be reaching the wrong conclusions.

  I called for a round of drinks before I’d talk. Once I’d taken a sip, I said, “This is Kragdomen’s ring.”

  Glyka growled in the back of her throat and I heard another name whispered through listeners. It wasn’t the name I wanted to hear.

  I spoke louder. “Mordon was the son I met and it was he who was running Kragdomen as the heir. He was acting as the colony’s Watcher when I first met him, so I didn’t know anything about Kragdomen at the time. I liked him when we first met, and I love him now. The trouble came when I moved in.”

  “Caledon has been waiting for news of a female,” Firan said, startling me by speaking up. “He’s been around, saying that home is dull, but he’d return if a pretty piece of tail turned up. Nothing quite like taking his brother’s toy away.”

  “Well, I’m glad to know that I saw the charming side of him,” I said dryly.

  “You’ve met?” Glyka curled her lip in disgust.

  “Yes, and he’s been trying to entice Mordon into a combat challenge ever since. Trouble is, Mordon hasn’t dedicated as much time to combat as Caledon has.”

  Valerin nodded. “Not many of us have.”

  One of Firan’s companions said, “He’s a brute, that male. Heard they paid the Rhodes gang two hundred dinaires to kick him out of the Grecian Settlement over by Ash Lake, and he won the spat.”

  “The more I hear of him, the better it gets,” I said with a sigh. “It’s wearing on Mordon, so he may be edgy. He’s not usually like that.”

  Firan snorted, indicating that in no way was that going to be acceptable here. “He’d best be good to you. We don’t care if he’s acting contrary to usual or not, we know what his brother is, and the fruit came from the same tree.” Firan paused. “Unless, it didn’t. Does he have one father or two? Or an uncle, perhaps?”

  “I think Caledon's got an ‘uncle’.
That would sure explain things.” Even so, I knew that wasn’t the case. “Their sister is as opposite to Caledon as could be.”

  Glyka quirked an eyebrow at that bit of information. “How did I miss that flight?”

  “It was quickly done. She didn’t want Caledon's interference in any way, she seemed concerned he would have chased her males away.”

  “Who was it? Her mate?”

  I searched my memory for a name. None came. “I never heard his name, but he was some stray who had lost his family years ago. They took pity on him one winter.”

  Firan held up a hand. “You’re telling me that Kragdomen allowed a stray to fly their leader’s daughter? That doesn’t sound like the Kragdomen I know.”

  Others around him nodded emphatically.

  “Be skeptical if you’d like, but be careful before you call me a liar, too. My magic’s feral, and Mordon offered to teach me even though he had nothing to gain by it.”

  “Ha, ha, ha,” Gudovan said, “he has you to gain.”

  “He didn’t then, not unless he was willing to be shackled to a non-shifter. I told you my abilities came late.”

  “Ha, ha. To think, shifting or not, that a man would ever be ‘shackled’ to a woman like yourself.”

  Firan got a wicked gleam in his eye. “I think her man should expect no less than a pair of shackles at the very least.”

  “Ha! Ha! Ha!”

  Those with more innocence or a slower wit joined in the laughter after Gudovan. I crossed my arms and stuck out a tongue indignantly, making Glyka smile. It seemed to take forever until they finished laughing, but by the end of it, we were all suddenly comfortable with making simple conversation. People broke off into their own topics, and I felt easy in the seat of honor. It seemed that I had passed the interrogation. Good, because I hadn’t really enjoyed it.

  As we talked, the time slipped by. Firan spoke lovingly of his home in Heathvale, about how it was built in volcanic tunnels made in eruptions thousands of years ago. He spoke of the multitude of snakes and spiders that made their homes in the lesser-used entrances, of the deer and antelope which braved a rocky, barren landscape to reach the rich farmland that they’d painstakingly built up. How they brewed this or that type of hops to make a caramel flavor, or a floral, what grains they used to make the chocolate-cherry stout I was fond of. That was how their settlement earned their money—by selling alcohols and liquors to the different markets.

  “Morgana’s and Oberon’s Markets have the best sales for us,” he said. “If we bothered to mine our geodes, Merlyn's would pay well for the effort. Can’t go taking business from Kiasden, though, can we?”

  “Kiasden?” I asked, glancing at the woman beside me who I’d put an arm around sometime between the second and third pint when my cheeks were rosy and I was conscious of how thick my tongue felt. “You do crystals?”

  Glyka smiled timidly, but a spark of interest lit up her face as it hadn’t done while Firan and I were talking about the benefits of smoke-roasting barley. “We have all gemstones and minerals, the best ones are the semi-precious because they are so colorful. The tigerseye is always in demand, same with amethyst. Pink sapphire has seen a big spike in demand recently, and I think it’s due to an increase in the werewolf population.”

  “Werewolves and pink sapphires?” It was an odd correlation.

  Glyka giggled. It was a soft, plush sound that felt like being wrapped up in a blanket by the fireside. She was fishing something from inside her boot when Julius stopped by the brazier and answered me for her.

  A new voice answered, one I knew. “Each wolf pack has their own banner and style of jewelery which they use to identify one another when going about their daily lives. The Crowfield Pack is a very large, very ambitious pack that uses pink sapphires and white gold exclusively. Their numbers have increased faster than any of the other packs, and with that comes the demand for jewels.”

  I held out my hand to him. “Julius. I’m glad to see you.”

  Julius took my hand, nodded to the others in turn. “I am glad to see you, as well, and pleased to see you have made yourself such fine companions. Heathvale, Kiasden, Reyes. A fine network.”

  “Septimus, you wouldn't expect us to leave a fair lady out on her own?” Glyka asked.

  “No, but you three do vet the company you choose to keep.”

  Glyka rolled her eyes. “And you plan to steal her away. Selestiani doesn’t make for a very considerate companion.” She didn’t say the last two words correctly, and she giggled at her error.

  Julius removed my pint from my hand, set it on the ground beside hers, and admonished gently, “You have been touching the kegs before supper. I’m afraid it has gone to your heads.”

  Gudovan broke his silence to say, “Here, here, now, phoenix. The lamb roasts in the pit. What’s the harm in socializing as we wait?”

  “None, my dear Gudovan. I’m pleased you’ve welcomed Fera into your midst, but I’m afraid I must talk with her for a few minutes.”

  Gudovan’s lip curled, revealing a partial dragon fang.

  Julius continued, “I will return her in a moment, I promise you.”

  I realized that Gudovan, and the others, were genuinely exhibiting mild aggression towards Julius. Glyka had gone rigid, her skin thickened. Firan’s eyes were wild and slitted vertically. Even Valerin struggled to keep himself in his human form despite his loyalty to and faith in Julius. Beyond these people, though, nobody else seemed to really care. Even drunk, I found the situation fascinating. Sure as anything else, these select people had laid a kind of claim on me. What amused me the most was that this territorial tendency was not displayed by Mordon in the past.

  “It’s alright. I asked to speak with Julius when we met here. I’ll be back.” I stood, tried not to wobble in my first few steps, and added casually, “You’re more fun, anyways.”

  Gudovan laughed and resumed their conversation, prompting the others to do the same until their talk became a loud revel in the background. I tried to clear my head, but it wasn’t happening.

  “Why were they so aggressive?” I asked as quietly as I could.

  Julius was walking a bit farther away from me than he usually would, and I could tell from the way he held his hands crossed over his belly that he would not touch me even if I were to fall over.

  “All a part of their courtship.”

  “Right, but they know about me and...”

  He nodded. “Which will make them try to sway you into a friendlier direction.”

  “Friendlier direction? As in, with one of them? But if they didn’t want to let me go, why host the flight?”

  “Precisely. If you decide to remain with one of them, then you will be part of a wider community. Before they met you, they had no way to know if you were a person they would like to add to their group or not. Agreeing to host the flight means that they got to meet you. It was a risk, yes, but it is at the very least a source of entertainment.”

  “I don’t mind being entertainment,” I said, “but I’d rather not make the First Order think I’m often wobbling on my feet.”

  “Neither would I, but the others understand that you are in good condition considering that you’re anticipating a mating flight.”

  Good condition? “What would they normally expect?”

  “How you are presently, but with fewer clothes.”

  “Oh? I thought they took that more seriously than they do in their dragon bodies.”

  “All the reason for them to coax you as you are now,” Julius said.

  “Well, I could make them all uncles, then they wouldn't have anything to complain about, would they?” the alcohol said for me.

  Julius stopped all of a sudden, regarding me with his unique brand of cool, mildly bemused fascination. “They have been talking to you, I see, but I did not think that you would be so willing to embrace their lifestyle after your reluctance with Valerin.”

  “It’s not all foreign and strange now.”

&nbs
p; “You understand that you are drunk?”

  “Yes,” I said and folded my arms in front of my chest with a huff of annoyance. “When the flight is here, I won’t be, though.”

  “Don’t discourage the lady, Julius. A strong tie to Kragdomen would be a boon to us all,” said a woman with an elegant brunette coif and a sleek white dress which ended mid-calf. She tipped her head in my direction by way of greetings. “I am Artemis. This is Aurelius.”

  At her side was a man who could define the tall, dark, and handsome trope. They all wore a red sash that draped over one shoulder and was tied at their hip into an ornate fisherman’s knot.

  “Certainly you aren’t all there is to the First Order?” I asked. “Three of you?”

  “No,” Artemis said with a quick shake of her head. “But we were sent to speak with you.”

  “We prefer not to expose ourselves to new company very often,” Aurelius said as an explanation. “I would offer you a place to sit, but we will not be here long. It is not wise to detain a female drake when others court her. They can become unpredictable.”

  “You make them sound like animals.”

  “I apologize. What I intended to say was that they are less prone to display good judgment when passions are running so high.”

  “Alright. So, to business then. Do you know about me and the Broken Feather Rite?” I asked, giving up on trying to enunciate my words. If they came out slurred, then that was just too bad. I was having a hard time just focusing on the conversation without getting distracted by nonsense.

  “Yes, Julius explained everything to us. Perhaps he took a stretch with the liberties of what you intended him to tell us?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what he told you, but if it was something bad about me, then I guess I should have behaved myself better.”

  Artemis touched my elbow briefly. “No, he has not slandered you. Some individuals are very particular about which information they wish for others to know, and we require intrusive details before we will agree to see someone.”

  “Alright. You’d be surprised how much of my life is public knowledge.”

  “We know. You aren’t that public of a figurehead, but between our interviews, it was enough. We believe we can trust you with what we remembered.”