Spellbound

by Kodilynn Calhoun

  That was it then. Wylde had picked Kascien, a boy that the Kiir’vanan’s king would never allow in the Nest, over her duties as princess. Knowing the girl as well as he did, she probably didn’t plan on returning. She would never be Havoc’s. They would never bond and she would never bear him a son or daughter to raise as heir to the Kiir’vanan throne.

  His lips turned down in a scowl. Why? Because of the bastard twinblood. Kascien. Kascien, whose powers would end up strangling Wylde in her sleep. No. He wouldn’t let that happen. Standing, he stretched his arms out, willing his form to shift. Climbing onto the bench for a little height, he jumped and took flight. His wing flaps were heavy until he reached the thermals high above and began to float on them.

  But he didn’t head for the dragon’s keep. He didn’t head for the desert. Instead, he chose the path that would lead him directly to the Magi, to the Shining Cities. He flew in silence, his heart a steady thump in his chest, knowing he was doing the right thing.

  Kascien was the Magi’s slave boy. He was marked by power. Bonding with a dragon had overridden the Magi’s own magic, setting him free…but even if they couldn’t contain him magically, Havoc wouldn’t put it past them to bind him physically.

  A wicked smile curved along his lips as he soared over the treetops.

  He followed the faint trail of magic, each wing-beat taking him closer to the source. He reached a large city with floating signs and neon lights, flashing and pulsing with energy. He returned to the ground, hesitating only for a moment. He had been to the Cities once before, as a messenger. He took a breath and steeled his nerves—then went looking for a Mage. Any Mage would do, as long as they took him peacefully to their Sovereign.

  A man with broad shoulders reeked of power. His dark hair hung in curls around his face, a bright streak of white hair stark against the darkness of the rest of his mane. His hooded eyes turned to Havoc, widening a little as his hand reached up, fingers twitching. Havoc’s hair stood up on end as the Magi’s magic brushed against him.

  “Wait, please. Stop. I’m here with a message for your leader.” The words rushed out of him in a whoosh of air.

  The man’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t lower his arm. “And you are?”

  “Havoc Retalia, Kiir’vanan. I come from Vanla. I believe we have something your master wants. A certain…slave who outwitted your people, perhaps?” He offered a placid smile, raising both hands.

  The man’s expression went from dark to darker, though a thin smile graced his lips. “I think I know who you’re talking about.” He pulled out a thin piece of chalk from his pocket. “Come with me, Wyvern. I believe the Sovereign would very much like to see you.”

  Havoc stiffened as the man sketched a doorway on the wall with the chalk, hesitating even more when it shimmered with magic that sparked off and danced along his arms. The Mage bowed his head and waved Havoc towards the gateway. Havoc took a breath and stepped through, the man on his tail. He was regarded by a pair of guards who raised their hands immediately, but the man Havoc was with stopped them dead.

  “He’s fine. Tell the Sovereign he has a guest,” he commanded, both arms crossed over his chest. The men glanced from him, to Havoc, and back again before nodding and ducking down the hall.

  Several moments of awkward silence passed between Havoc and the Mage before one of the men hurried back and bowed his head to them. “He will see you immediately.” His voice was hushed as the three of them started down a long, narrow hallway lined with photos of sneering Magi. The crackle of magic in the hall sent chills down Havoc’s spine and he shivered, scales glistening at his throat. A large oak door swung open and Havoc was ushered in.

  The Sovereign was not what he expected—not big and fearsome, but instead tall and lanky with a hawkish nose and gleaming green eyes. The man had an eerie smile and his hand cradled a glass of red wine that, at first glance, resembled blood. Havoc’s nose wrinkled, though he bowed his head to the man.

  “Romas. You have brought a Wyvern?” The Sovereign’s voice was thin, but curious.

  The first Mage nodded sharply. “He says he has information for you, sir. Information on Kascien.”

  The word was ominous. Kascien. Havoc watched as the Sovereign’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he took a step forwards. Havoc met his eyes and immediately was greeted with a spark of pain in the back of his mind, a pain so vivid that it sent him to his knees. The Sovereign smirked and took a sip of his wine, then shrugged.

  “Tell me of Kascien, Wyvern, else I rip the information from your dying breath.”

  Havoc’s mouth gaped open. Perhaps Wylde had been right about the man’s brutality. He glanced over his shoulder at Romas, who was stony-faced, and then looked back up at the leader of the Magi.

  “No need to get nasty,” he muttered. “Tell me what you know of Kascien first.”

  “Kascien was born of two highly-powerful parents, but had little magic himself. His father never claimed him and when his mother died, he was given to me, a useless boy to be branded a slave. I bound him to me and had no problems with him…until he captured your princess. The two of them figured out a way to escape, with the help of one of my own guards, who is now being severely punished for his disloyalty. I had Kascien pinpointed for a little while—he’s tied to me magically, but I have seemed to have…lost this connection.” The man’s lips wrinkled into a scowl.

  “Kascien came to our Nest with our princess,” Havoc said, picking his words carefully. “Your magic weakened him and although our king refused, our princess had him bound to a dragon.”

  At those words, the Sovereign gripped his glass tightly, as if he’d been expecting it, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth. “So my slave is now Wyvern?”

  “Not only is he Wyvern,” said Havoc. “But the bonding of dragonkin magic has seemed to have shorted out your grasp on him. And whoever had his magic bound in the first place. He’s strong, unduly so, and he’s dangerous. I don’t want him near my Nest or my people. We have exiled him to the desert, but it seems my princess has taken a…shine to him and went after the boy. She doesn’t understand that he’s a danger to anyone around him and I refuse to let a twinblood kill my future mate and queen.”

  He frowned. “I came to make a deal with you. I’ll trade with you. Three dragons, if you take Kascien back. I don’t care what you do to him—torture him, kill him, I don’t give a damn—but I want Wylde, my princess, unharmed.”

  The Sovereign seemed to consider, glancing over to Romas, who bowed and nodded. “It is your decision, my lord,” he said, looking long and hard at Havoc.

  The Sovereign stroked his chin, swirling the wine around in his cup until it seemed it would overflow the sides. Then he turned back to Havoc with a haunting smile on his face. “I assume you have a plan?”

  Havoc met him, grin for grin. “I do. Would you like to hear it, my lord?”

  This seemed to please the Sovereign. “I would.”

  ***

  The Jiria’s nest was nothing like the Kiir’vanan’s. There were several small buildings in a half-circle, made of stone and brick with tapered roofs and tiny windows. In the middle of the crescent moon sat a building that was tall and skinny, looking quite patched up, as if held together by a spell.

  Magic crackled in the air as Yuri led the group through the village. Behind the middle monolith was a large fire pit, sunk down several feet in the ground, with a rotisserie stick and turn handle, charred from use. Kascien bent down and noticed there was no wood in the pit.

  The husky man hauling the sandwyrm’s body pushed him aside rather roughly and Kascien bit back a snapped warning, heeding his place among these rogues. The man and the fair-haired woman with the bastard sword pierced the iron rod through the wyrm’s middle and hung it over the fire pit. The woman shot Kascien a dirty look. Kascien glowered back and turned away.

  A young girl, maybe six or seven, darted around among the returning Wyverns. She lunged her skinny form at the wyrm-carryin
g man and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Daddy!” she cried, her voice joyous, and her father hugged her back just as fiercely.

  The girl’s blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and her golden eyes, more vivid than King Reitsch’s himself, gleamed with mischief. She snuck a glance at Kascien over the man’s shoulder and offered him a shy, but ornery, smile. Kascien couldn’t help it—he grinned right back.

  A whistle pierced the air. Yuri, with two fingers in her mouth, shrilled again and the Wyverns gathered around the fire pit. Kascien saw several new faces, their gazes locked on him with blatant curiosity.

  “Okay, everyone. We’ve got a twinblood joining our ranks,” Yuri announced in a voice that gave no room for confrontations. Kascien let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Everyone, meet Kascien. He’s a part of Jiria now, so get used to it.” She offered him a wry smile, clapped him on the shoulder, then turned and waltzed off, leaving him at the mercy of the group of rogues.

  Some of them were bold, introducing themselves without even a blink. The wyrm-carrying father was Halo and his daughter was Apollo; the severe girl with the bastard sword was Mackie. Bluff was the teenager with the eye-patch, but after that, the names jumbled together in the recesses of Kascien’s mind and he lost track of who was who.

  And then he saw her.

  She was a tall, wiry woman with skin as pale as alabaster, sunburn ripe across both shoulders and across her cheeks. Her hair was silver, worn in loose curls, and her eyes were darkened with a Mage’s magic. But what struck Kascien the most were the scars etched into her shoulders and neck, spirals of a spell, a binding. He gaped at her and she stared right back. The markings she wore were identical to his.

  She was a Mage.

  “Kascien?” Her voice was timid and his eyes widened. She knew him? How? She shook her head, as if she could understand his shock. “I knew your mother. I met you when you were just a child, right before she…passed away. I heard that you were branded a slave. A little before I…left.” Her words were carefully spoken, her eyes boring onto his.

  “How did you end up here?” The Wyverns were a rapt audience, but he paid them no mind.

  “It wasn’t easy.” She pulled up the tawny pants she wore, revealing hideous, winding scars down both legs, from knee to ankle. They were pale, years old, but still… “I escaped, but barely. The Sovereign is not a nice man, though I’m sure you already know that. He bound my magic, locked it tight inside of me. I can use a piece of Portal chalk—do they still use those?”

  Kascien’s head swam. “Yeah. That’s how I got out, but…” He shook his head. They had bound her powers and branded her a slave? Two different spells, yet her marks were identical to his, overlapping and spiraling in runic symbols. Had someone truly bound his magic when he was a baby? It had to’ve been before he became a slave, but he couldn’t remember.

  “You are strong now,” she murmured, as if reading his mind. She opened her mouth to say something further, then stopped.

  “This power is what came out when I bonded with a dragon. The Wyvern’s magic unwound the spells cast on me. The Sovereign had me branded a slave because I had no magic, because I disgraced my mother’s name. And now…” Now he was strong. If he could ever manage to control the power raging within him, he would be just as strong as the Sovereign.

  Or stronger.

  The thought chilled him. He didn’t want to become anything like that man. His lips turned up in a snarl and the Mage woman shook her head. “I don’t know your name,” he said after a moment, watching her.

  “I… I can’t give you my true name; surely you understand. But you can call me Falla.” She smiled tentatively, then went on, “You’ve just come into your magic. Someone must’ve bound it when you were a child—your eyes are too pale to be someone who’s spellcast before. But in that case, you don’t know anything about it. If you don’t learn how to harness it, it could kill you. And us.”

  Kascien frowned. Was this why Wylde’s people didn’t want him near their Nest? Could he really be strong enough to kill them all? He swallowed back bile at the thought of that little lizard, the thought of him becoming a Sovereign. He shivered even though it was sweltering out and his gaze returned to Falla’s dark eyes.

  “Can you teach me how to control it?”

  She shook her head. “The Sovereign’s last move was to bind me as a slave and a traitor; I will never feel the touch of magic again. I can’t help you, but Castor can. Follow me.”

  She moved to the side, the Wyverns bowing out of her way. They respected her, but when he turned to follow her, they didn’t offer him the same. He scowled; he’d show them he was worthy of their attention. Some way, someday.

  Hurrying after Falla, he fell into step beside her. She led him to the farthest little house, where a dark-haired man sat cross-legged in the middle of the room. A slender flute was perched on his lips and while the music flirted around them, he wasn’t actually blowing on the instrument. The notes shrilled high and low, a haunting melody that made Kascien’s hair stand up on end. The magic coming from the end of the wind pipe touched him in a not-so-pleasant way and he backed up, headed for the door.

  The man snapped his gaze up, locked his eyes with Kascien’s, and held his hand up. Fingers splayed, Kascien felt the jerk of magic holding him mid-stride and he wanted to scream at the man for touching him. Shivers traced wounded lines down his spine and he shuddered, body trembling.

  The man stood and came near. Falla embraced him tightly, then smiled at Kascien in an attempt to be reassuring, but his hackles were already up. “This is Castor Hall. He’s the reason I’m still alive. Castor, this is the newest Jirian. Kascien.”

  Unlike the Wyverns, Castor didn’t look surprised at his name. “I vaguely remember the hand that wrought those scars,” he murmured in a low baritone. He reached out his free hand to trace the marks on Kascien’s skin, then relaxed his magical grip. The magic fell away, slipping off Kascien like a wet towel, and the boy stiffened.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you, but this is normal. You’re a slave, that’s how slaves act after so many lashes of a Mage’s magical whip.” He spoke confidently, but quietly. “No worries. I will never harm you, so long as you don’t harm the ones I love.”

  Castor glanced to Falla, who nodded and bustled off with a small bow to Kascien. Why a once-slave would bow to another of her kind was beyond him. His eyes were still locked on the older Mage, whose dark eyes showed just how much magic had been through his system throughout the years.

  The Mage smiled. “I will show you how to use the magic, if you choose. Otherwise, I will have to bind it again, to keep my clan safe.”

  Kascien felt tingles rush across him, numbness setting in, a dull ache. No… He couldn’t have this torn away from him, not when it already felt like such a part of his soul. He shook his head.

  “Understandable.” He offered a smile. “I can’t imagine life without my magic, personally. We start immediately.”

  Kascien frowned at that. “I’ve been out in the freaking desert all day. I’m exhausted, my arm hurts, and—”

  The man’s lifted hand made him flinch away, but Castor merely shook his head. “You could get a power surge at any time. Lessons start now, no ifs, ands, or buts. Now sit your skinny rump down on the mat.”

  When Kascien nodded, it was stiff, but he understood. He didn’t want to kill anyone, especially not the people who had saved his life today. He eased his sore body down to the mat and Castor followed suit, sitting across from him. They sat cross-legged, hands on their knees, and Castor handed him the flute.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got, boy.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Sovereign listened to the Wyvern speak with an easy smile playing on his lips—why shouldn’t he smile? He was going to inherit three dragons and his once-slave-turned-Mage. Kascien was a gem alone; if he couldn’t break the magic that now coursed through his veins, he would have no trouble taking a bl
ade to the boy’s throat and watching him bleed out. The Sovereign sipped at his burgundy. No. No trouble at all. Kascien was more trouble than he was worth.

  “Set a rendezvous point. You should bring whatever forces you need to contain three of my dragons. I’ll get them to you. I will even get them to go willingly.” The Wyvern’s voice was soft, as if torn by this decision.

  The Sovereign smirked. What people wouldn’t do for love. Or maybe, in this case, lust.

  “I’ll lead them to our meeting point and you can bind and contain them. Kascien seems to be, from what I’ve seen at least, honor bound. He promised my princess that he would get her home safely, and he did, though perhaps he did it with second intentions,” the man called Havoc explained, brows knitted together.

  “He is Wyvern and bonded to a specific dragon. They share a mental connection now, as well as a magical one. If that dragon is one of the ones that you “capture”, then I have no doubts that Kascien will play hero and save it. When he comes to you, you can do what you need to do. I assume Magi children are taught to use their magic young, therefore Kascien should know little of his newfound powers. That will give you the chance to take him down.”

  The Sovereign narrowed his eyes. Was this Wyvern assuming that Kascien was a threat to him? That the boy’s magic surpassed the Sovereign’s own? He flicked a long finger and Havoc began to gasp, grasping at his knee as it buckled out from under him.

  “Do not underestimate me, snake,” he growled. “I am the strongest of the Magi. I will not be overturned by a foolish twinblood slave, no matter his strength. That boy has only one fate resting here with me…and I will make damn sure he receives it.”

  Havoc nodded, eyes clouded with pain and tears, and the Sovereign almost took pity on the creature sprawled before him.

  Almost.

  He twisted his hand, Havoc shrieking, before letting the pressure up. “I’d break that leg of yours, but you need it. Fetch me my dragons and my slave, Wyvern. If you fail? I won’t hesitate to hunt you down and rip you apart.” His words were laced with poison and Havoc shuddered.