by K L Rymer
To my relief, my friends don’t treat me any differently. Not only am I a “chosen one”, but I’m also the long-lost daughter of the most famous wizard who ever lived.
Yes. I guess that makes me doubly special.
Everyone in House Mendacious has sworn to secrecy.
It’s not that I don’t trust them. In a way, it just brings us all closer together. Nora, Thomas, and Jack have even kept their significant others out of the loop. Katie, Thomas’s cat, is in House Ingenious after all. Nora’s Merman, Orion, belongs in Audacious. And Jack’s Succubus, Clara, Magnanimous. (Yes, a succubus in Magnanimous.)
I can’t believe it’s taken me all year just to learn their names, but enough of those three now. They’re not Mendacious, and that’s all that matters.
I shake my head, pinching my brows. “Why... why would you all do that?”
Silence falls over the room. I take a moment to peer around at each of them. Zahara and Nora drink tea by the fireplace (the Unseelie has had a craving for Earl Grey since Myrddin offered it to her in his office). Jack stands as rigid as a statue with his arms crossed over his chest. Thomas’s gaze is determined as he pats Gelert on his right-hand side, and Angelina turns the pages of a magazine, pretending she would rather be somewhere else.
Then there’s Damien and Felicity. They haven’t left each other’s side since Mattie attacked two nights ago. They haven’t officially gotten back together either (I don’t know what they’re doing anymore to be honest), but it’s clear they have re-connected.
So long as they don’t distract us all again, I’m good.
The demon and the pixie help themselves to Zahara’s Earl Grey, and now they all look as if they’re having a tea party.
Felicity sips her tea and grins. “Because, Bryn, we want to help you. How could we all just go home and leave you here alone? Especially with what happened two nights ago. Matthew could always come back and hurt you. I’m sorry, but we’re not leaving you alone ever again!”
I warm up a little. Well, if that isn’t the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, but I do hope they still allow me some privacy. I’m quite the nervous pooper after all—I need my alone time when I go to the bathroom.
Zahara snorts. “You can think again. From now on, Bryn, we will be with you always... Even when you’re dropping the kids off...”
I squirm. Shit. I forgot she could read my thoughts. The weirdo.
Damien chuckles, sipping his Earl Grey, and he really does look evil right now with that porcelain cup. “Yeah, what Morticia just said. No more peace for you, Bryn Bryn...”
The room breaks into laughter. Even the friendly Nora chuckles and the usually serious Thomas, too. Even Jack’s solemn face cracks a little. The only two who don’t laugh are Angelina and Felicity.
The vampire rolls her eyes, flipping another page of her magazine. But the pixie harrumphs, folding her arms. “Leave her alone!” She looks up at me now, dazzling me with those amazing blues. “Don’t listen to them, Bryn. Of course we will let you poop in peace. We’re not that strict after all.”
Damien smirks, flashing his bright, scarlet eyes. “I love it when you talk dirty, Tinkerbell...”
I pull a face and storm out the room before I can see Felicity’s reaction. I’m sick of all this talk about shit. My shit. Seriously.
Maybe we really are all Mendacious...
“I’ll be in my room.”
“Have fun pooping!” Zahara shouts and the laughter ensues.
I grumble and make a start up the staircase. Before I leave, I turn back. Zahara, Nora, Damien, and Fel resume their tea party. Jack goes back to gazing out the window, and Thomas returns to Gelert, teaching him “tricks”. Angelina reads her magazine.
I smile. Telling them all was the best decision I’ve had in a while. And I look forward to having them by my side for the holidays (even Angelina).
Maybe now I may just have a chance, and I can win Matthew back and defeat his father.
...
Christmas day arrives, and by far it’s the best Christmas I’ve had in years.
Myrddin threw a huge banquet just for Mendacious in the grand chamber, and we all ate like kings and queens. I even got to see my good old friend Shankfoot again, but not Princess Sparkle Hooves. Shame.
I did remember to call my Mom and wish her a Merry Christmas. She’s eight hours behind after all in Dallas, so I had to call by 4 pm (8 am Dallas time). She would normally be up that early roasting the turkey anyway. I hate to leave her alone this year with the rotten Larry, but I have a dragon to wake, and an overpowered ex to save.
Hopefully, when all this blows over, Mom can come to the UK and have Christmas dinner with me and Myrddin. Maybe the two can reunite, and she can finally leave that scumbag Larry and get back with the magical wizard.
Yeah, a little bit too much wishful thinking on my part, but a girl can hope.
I will never call Myrddin dad though. Not for the same reasons I refuse to call Larry dad, but I will just never see the wacky headmaster as anything other—my wacky headmaster.
Mom has surprisingly been very helpful. Since I told her about the magical world and Myrddin, she has told me everything, even about the time she first met the wizard. My mom has always had a thing for magic (whether it was real magic or not). Larry was a prominent magician before he succumbed to alcohol. He used to have sell-out tours too, but then he threw it all away and became a deadbeat instead. Now mom’s the major provider in the house, and she just needs to find the courage to leave that asshole.
I currently sit at the long table in the grand chamber, stuffed full with turkey and sprouts. Shankfoot talks my ear off on my right. He has dressed up for the occasion in a fancy green suit and bowler hat, and I hate to say it... but he looks like a leprechaun. I never bothered to dress up this year. Once again I wear my hoodie and Converse as I nurse a glass of wine in my hand, swirling my finger around the rim so it makes a ringing sound.
My eyes find Felicity and Damien sitting by the tree. She unwraps a present given to her by the Prince of Darkness. She looks like the angel you put on top of the Christmas tree in her white, dazzling dress. Even Damien is handsome in a fine black suit.
Everyone else went all out, and then there’s me in my jeans. I’ve undone the top button though. As I said, I stuffed myself.
The pixie finally opens the gift and lets out a squeal. Damien got her a pair of glass slippers, just like the pair Cinderella had. How sweet. I smile as she throws herself at the demon next, leaving kiss marks on his face.
Shankfoot cackles beside me, swigging back a flagon of ale. That little dwarf can sure put it away. I think that’s his twelfth flagon of the night. He glances my way, a merry gleam in his shiny, black orbs.
“Ah, warms yer heart, ’ey? Seein’ the way that devil loves that pixie. I had a girl once too, yer know?”
I cock a brow. “Ooh, really? Do tell, Shankfoot.”
He produces a devilish smirk. “She was a giantess. The most beautiful lass I ever seen...”
The dwarf reminisces in his memories, and I just sit there trying to picture a giantess and a dwarf getting it on then immediately regret it.
That is not an image I need before I pack myself off to bed. I’m about ready to drop. I’ve eaten far too much.
“I have ta say, but am proud of yer, lass.”
Surprised, I glance up at the dwarf. “Me? Why?”
He grins behind that disheveled beard of his. “I mean, jus look at yer. You haven’t ‘alf changed since I dropped yer off outside the academy over a year ago. How time flies, ‘ey? Now yer up there with the best of them, shooting red flames from yer palms and whatnot. I heard yer got a sword now, hm? You’ll have ta let me see one day. I’m quite good with swords meself. Used to be a swordsmith back in the day, yer know? I can teach yer how to wield it proper some time.”
I grin, raising a glass. “I would love that, Shankfoot. I look forward to learning from you.”
He lifts his flagon an
d chinks it with my glass, and now he downs the rest of his ale, getting it all over his beard.
Myrddin falls into the seat beside him and they talk now about old times. Everyone else is busy chatting away. Felicity and Damien still kiss (I guess you can safely say they are back together), and Zahara pours wine down Thomas’s throat. Jack watches them with a smile and Nora’s hair wiggles as she tells the Unseelie to stop. She’s going to get the poor shifter drunk, and then he will lose control of his wolf and go rogue on us.
Angelina sits alone on the other end of the table. I’m not even sure if she or her father celebrate Christmas. She didn’t eat a thing at the banquet. Being half-vampire, food isn’t such a big deal for her. It’s blood she needs to sustain herself though she does sip generously at that glass of red wine. Her ban lifted months ago. Now she can feed regularly once again, and I can see it’s helped loosen the vampire up again.
I just feel for the poor saps she’s fed from. I’m not sure if she disposes of them when she’s finished, but the thought makes me shiver. Hopefully, she goes after murderers and rapists. People who don’t deserve to live.
She offers me a wicked smirk then raises her glass. I roll my eyes and do the same, and we both sip.
Merry Fucking Christmas indeed.
I finish my wine and head on up to bed. It’s been a good one, but I’m ready to pass out.
I stagger through the shadowy corridors, Gelert trotting along by my side. He left with me, of course. He will always be my dog after all (not Thomas’s, who’s trying to steal the ghost dog away from me).
On my way up the spiral stairs to Mendacious quarters, I double over and grip my arm.
My tattoo. It’s burning again.
Gelert whines beside me as I gaze at that glowing tattoo in awe. The dragon... it’s moving. Its golden eye turns and fixes on me, and now it seems to be peering deep into my soul.
Unless I overdid it on the wine, I think I’m having another vision.
Suddenly, I close my eyes and gasp, and images play out before me again.
This time I see a large mound of glistening red scales atop a pile of jewels. The mound produces a low rumbling sound like an elephant, and I reach out, touching its scales...
So smooth. The mound is hot to the touch, and when I move my hand away, the scales leave imprints on my skin. I spot that red light seeping through the scales like blood, and its essence is similar to my own magic.
Wait... I think I finally understand what is happening, and I try to wake up again.
No. I’m not ready. I... I shouldn’t be here!
I squeal next as the large beast starts to move, and now I trip when it raises its head, locking its burning, yellow eyes on me.
I freeze, frozen in place.
And I thought Gwyneira was scary... This dragon is much bigger and twice as deadly.
I don’t look away from its amber eyes. Whereas Gwyneira’s are as cold as frozen lakes, this dragon’s eyes simmer like molten lava, and I’m powerless to move.
The dragon lowers its head, and now I gaze at my petrified reflection inside its eye. The giant eyeball blinks and I momentarily disappear. But when I appear again, I’m six-years-old, and I have a huge smile on my face.
I just found my dragon after all. It’s like a million birthdays and Christmases all wrapped in one.
Oh, yeah. That had always been my wish growing up. To meet the dragon that I always dreamed about. It was red too with similar, shining scales.
The dragon chuckles next and it sounds like a low car engine. It blows smoke at me now and I cough, wafting that thick vapor away. It’s seeping into my pores.
“So... you’re the one...”
That voice rumbles deep in my bones, filling my body with a sensation of burning fire, and that’s when I snap awake.
I’m still halfway up the stairs covered in sweat, and I shiver, wiping my face. Gelert stands beside me, whimpering pathetically. He produces a loud bark, and it rebounds off the walls.
“What the fuck...?”
Did I just have a dream? Yet why can I still feel that dragon’s hot breath, and smell that burning smoke?
My tattoo has stopped burning, and I look down. It no longer moves.
I think I finally met my dragon, and I smirk.
Brynmawr... He makes Gwyneira look like a little lizard in comparison, and I can see now why only one of them is on the Welsh flag.
The Red Dragon is the true king of beasts. And I’m going to wake him.
Chapter 15.
If only I could have captured a photograph of Myrddin’s face the next morning.
I’m still a little hungover from the Christmas meal, but I wanted to be able to tell him about my vision as soon as possible.
I knew he’d love it.
The wizard blinks, dumbfounded. “Really? You were six years old?”
He’s referring to the image I saw of myself in the dragon’s giant, gold eye. I don’t know what it means exactly, but I can guess Myrddin has some pretty good ideas.
The headmaster is still mulling over my words. He even neglects his tea as he lets it cool beside him on his desk, and before long that swirl of steam disappears from the hot liquid.
It almost reminds me of the smoke from Brynmawr’s mouth.
Myrddin scratches his silver-streaked beard. “Hm, interesting indeed... Have you told any of the others about this new development?”
I sip my tea. “No, sir. I came straight to you first. I wanted to see what you thought. Why do you think I saw myself as a kid?”
The wizard beams as the model train hoots behind him. “Well, you tell me, Bryn. Why do you think you saw yourself as a child?”
I chew my lip and ponder now. “Well, it’s obvious. He was assessing my worth as a character by peering into my soul, and he found the child in me. I’ve... never told anyone this, even my mom... but... ever since I was six I’ve had dreams about a red dragon. All I ever wished for was to find one and ride it through the clouds. I know it’s not unusual for a six-year-old to have such dreams, but it can’t be a coincidence. Sure, I did watch a lot of fantasy growing up. I’d read the Hobbit ten times by the time I was twelve, and Spyro the Dragon was always my favorite PlayStation game, and...”
Myrddin holds his palm up, dismissing me with a laugh. “It’s okay, Bryn. You needn’t have to explain. It all makes perfect sense.” He jumps up and claps his hands together. “Ah, this is splendid news! It seems we’re one step closer to attaining our goal. He’s already starting to let you in. Your souls are connected after all.”
I glance up, biting my nail absentmindedly. “Our souls are what now?”
The headmaster smiles and sits back down, taking a sip of his cup, but then he grimaces. “Ugh, cold tea. Not my favourite.” He empties the cup magically and proceeds with pouring himself another hot tea, and now he sits back in his wingback chair. “That’s right. The Red Dragon left a small amount of his magic in the human world before he retired under the hill. Little did he know that his magic was in need of a host. So it laid in wait for hundreds and hundreds of years for a child it deemed worthy, and that child was you, Bryn. I mean, it’s no coincidence that you were born in the Chinese year of the Dragon.”
My eyes protrude. That’s right. How could I have not realized? No wonder the eastern dragons loved me so much. It’s just a shame the western dragons don’t.
I gush. “Aw, do you really think I’m worthy, Headmaster?”
He snorts. “Well, I’m a little biased. You are my daughter after all, but from a non-fatherly perspective, yes. You are brave, kind and resilient. Three marvellous traits. Though you can be a little snarky at times, but nothing out of the ordinary. It’s just your age. You’ll outgrow it.”
I highly doubt that. My level of snark only gets worse every year. I’ll be the snarkiest old lady at the retirement home, telling all the other pensioners about the time I awakened the Red Dragon and saved the world...
I meet the headmaster’s hazel e
yes. “So, what should we do now?”
Myrddin takes another sip. “We let January pass. If we want to get the Red Dragon to cooperate, then the last thing we want to do is wake him up at the start of the year. January is a bad month for everyone, especially if you’ve just woken up from a one thousand, five-hundred-year nap. And let’s not forget February too, which many have likened to a second January. I get the feeling the Red Dragon’s not a big lover of Valentine’s Day either. Not like your lovable headmaster, of course. So, March it will be...”
I nod. “The start of spring. Good idea, Professor. Maybe then he will be in better spirits.”
“That’s not all,” Myrddin continues, taking another generous sip. “March the 1st also happens to be St David’s day. The patron saint of Wales.”
I return his smile. “I see where you’re going...”
“So we have till March the 1st to wake him. I can see it now... You will turn up to Dinas Emrys with an offering of daffodils...”
I cock a brow. “Why daffodils, Professor?
Myrddin’s eyes twinkle. “The Red Dragon’s a lover of daffodils. Everyone knows that, Bryn. Honestly, where have you been?”
The headmaster tsks and gazes out the window, and I just sit there, shifting my eyes.
Yeah, sure... whatever you say, you old crackpot....
...
I later found out by Thomas that daffodils are the national symbol of Wales. The Welsh will pin a daffodil to their clothes on March the 1st to celebrate St David’s day, but little do they know that the Red Dragon also happens to be a fan of daffodils too. Why not? They’re bright and yellow, and cheerful to look at.
It appears the professor was just messing with me again.
January exam period came around, and one of our practicals involved shifting our weapons and maintaining their shapes for a full hour for Mr. Tanaka, and we all passed with flying colors.
There was a time back at the start of the first semester where I didn’t even think I would get this far, and now look at me, yielding a magical, red sword like a lightsaber. It even makes a similar buzzing sound, but it’s probably just in my head. I’m no Luke Skywalker. For one, it was Darth Vader who had the red lightsaber...