The Scarlet Dragon (The Witching World Book 5)

by Lucia Ashta

  When a mind became free of its bindings, it wasn’t always clear which path the mind would take. Salazar was victim to decades of misinformation. Mordecai hoped Salazar would delay making any decision of importance until he learned the truth, both of his history and his heart. But as it always was, only time would tell.

  Mordecai raised the limp bodies of his patients with infinite care and led them out of the cave. There, he looked up at Grand-mère seated atop a dragon, outlined by the last vestiges of a sunset as heated as any flame. Just for a second, he wondered. He wondered what his life would look like from here on out, now that this woman had entered it.

  Chapter 5

  Once Mordecai loaded the bodies onto the dragon’s back, he hesitated. Salazar and I were already mounted on our horses, and Marcelo, Grand-mère, and Mordecai’s horses were tethered to mine by rope. We’d all assumed that Mordecai would ride on the dragon’s back again, behind Grand-mère and close to his patients.

  But Mordecai assumed nothing just then. Climbing upon the dragon’s back implied more than a mode of travel to him. He cocked his head to either side, just once. Surprised by the delay, I turned to look in time to catch Grand-mère meet Mordecai’s eyes. As if she held the answer to his internal debate, he grabbed the hand she extended to him and climbed atop the scarlet scales with much less reservation than he had when we left Washur.

  I wondered, just like he’d wondered, for a glancing moment, and then I let it go. If I’d learned anything since leaving Norland Manor in a swirl of fever that somehow ignited the magic within me, it was that nothing was predictable. And the more predictable I assumed something to be, the less predictable it was in the end. I’d learned, too, that it was only the true fool that thought he knew anything with real certainty. Life was tumultuous, gritty, and terrifyingly capricious. If there was a map out there somewhere of our lives, then it was a complicated one impossible to read and follow with any accuracy. If there really were women that embodied the fates, charged with keeping the threads of life force untangled and entwined with those of certain others, then they must truly be beyond human. No human could understand when a destiny was met and when the thread could be snipped without stunting potential and the fate of humankind.

  Magic might have opened up a world of possibilities that I hadn’t dreamed existed, but I was still bound to my fate as was everyone else. Even in the magical world, I lived within parameters of loyalty and trust, within a belief of myself that only I could truly limit.

  I watched Mordecai scoot closer to Grand-mère and wrap his arms around her cloaked waist in preparation for takeoff and I wondered at all that would unfold in my lifetime. Then my eyes walked over to the limp form of my beloved and I urged a deep love to shoot through my eyes. After all, though no one had told me this, I was suddenly certain that the windows to the soul could do a magic unique to them. The eyes could transmit whatever the heart held within its folds.

  As Grand-mère urged the dragon to take flight, Marcelo and Sylvia’s bodies slid closer to each other. Now touching, they lent each other a sense of camaraderie , and I thought it was perhaps good that magician and firedrake were companions in this struggle to vanquish darkness from their light bodies. There was strength in numbers and it might just be that these two unconscious beings could cycle support to each other and share in what little strength they had.

  The dragon rose with two flaps of his enormous wings and began to ascend into the almost dark sky. When I thought the dragon was to leave us in his shadow, uncertain of where to go, Grand-mère circled him around.

  “Meet at Dillbasin.” Grand-mère’s voice rang out in the silence of near night. “Ask for Durgeon at the inn. Keep to yourselves and speak only with him until you find us.” Then Grand-mère circled the dragon around again. The whooshing sound of monstrous wings sliced twilight’s silence into tidy little pieces. And then they were gone, fast fading into specks in the distance, Mathieu a sidekick to the king of beasts.

  I was left alone with a man that had kidnapped and attempted to murder me the last time we spoke. Although I was as eager as any of us for Salazar to learn the truth, I discovered myself in no hurry to speak. As if silence could ward off a repeat of his aggression, I draped it around me like a shield.

  I gestured with my head that he should ride in front of me. I hoped he didn’t realize I didn’t know any spells that could apprehend him if he meant to escape. As had been the case with me, my hold over magic wasn’t a strong one. Oh, the magic within me was strong as it ever was, perhaps stronger. But I had no control over it. We were still getting to know each other. We were dancing a dance of mere acquaintances that already knew we were to fall in love.

  That’s how it was with my magic. I could probably intervene to save Salazar’s life if I willed it hard enough with my heart, but I wouldn’t know how to prevent him from following his own will. Perhaps that was how it should be, but I wasn’t sure.

  If Mordecai had thought of my true lack of control over Marcelo’s nephew, who was not our prisoner, but who wasn’t free to leave our company quite yet either, he didn’t reveal it. Thankfully, Salazar didn’t seem to notice. He followed my direction and guided his horse away from the cave, back toward the path we had taken from Washur.

  When he reached the path, he turned away from Washur and toward a far lighter part of the world. I took my place behind Salazar on the path, with Marcelo, Mordecai, and Grand-mère’s horses in tow. The clip-clop sound of hooves carried us all the way through to the deep quiet of midnight, when we finally arrived in Dillbasin.

  Chapter 6

  If Dillbasin were named for its dill plants, it was impossible to tell. Clouds obscured what there was of a moon. I could make out little of our surroundings in the inky night. Tall, old trees lined the street that led into the town, making me wonder how old this settlement might be and why someone had chosen to make this location in the middle of nowhere their home, centuries before.

  Dillbasin was far enough away from Washur to remove us from the Count’s scrutiny, but it wasn’t nearly far enough away for me. Entering this darkened town, where all the lanterns had long been blown out, did nothing to ease my nerves. Rubbed raw by the length and stress of the day, irritability settled into my bones along with a weariness I thought I might never be able to dispel.

  Watching Salazar ride in front of me did nothing to put me at ease. The hours of travel had given way to introspection. I remembered my terror at being pursued by Salazar in the subterranean cave all too well. I also recalled the black ball of death he hurled at me with clear intent of wiping me from this earth forever. Too tired to feel compassion for him and unwilling to ponder the cruel experiences that had made him who he was, I wanted to find Mordecai and Grand-mère right away. The sooner I passed on the responsibility of Marcelo’s nephew to someone else, the better. I was exhausted from thinking and I was especially exhausted from finding the way to survive in a world of magic that I was still learning how to navigate.

  We rode our horses into the sleeping town acutely aware of every footfall. The sound of the horses echoed down the one street and off of every wall and window. Still, no lights came on to see who encroached the town. When we reached the building that was clearly the inn (it was the only building near the center of town that was made up of three stories, with a single lantern lit outside announcing its welcome to visitors), we dismounted. A hostler appeared from the shadows around the side of the inn, and Salazar looked at me for the first time since we left the cave. Subtly, I nodded.

  “Wan’ me to take your horses, Sir?” the boy said, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “Yes. That will do. Take good care of them,” Salazar said.

  Even though Salazar was an unknown factor that was theoretically under my control, this was still a world that belonged to men. At least, the non-magical world clearly belonged to men, and they controlled it with an iron fist. In the limited view I had of the magical world, however, women weren’t relegated to a second cl
ass of inferior beings. Magic was a place where women could perhaps be equal to men, where a human being could be valued according to his—or her—skill, and perhaps even by the contents of her heart.

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  When we entered the inn, Salazar rang the bell at the front counter. It would draw attention to us if I were to speak directly to the innkeeper when there was a man that could do it for me.

  “Sir Lancelot,” I whispered. “Hide beneath my cloak.” More alert than I was in the nighttime, Sir Lancelot was quick to comply. I didn’t imagine it was common for visitors of the inn to arrive in the pitch of night with owls and cats. I nudged Gertrude in front of the small bump in my cloak.

  Salazar had to ring the bell three times before a disgruntled woman appeared. After the suspicious look she gave us, I was relieved that I had thought to hide Sir Lancelot. “What ya want at this ungodly hour of the night? Don’t ya have more sense than to be travelin’ when the night’s dark?”

  “We are in need of rooms. And I’ll need to speak with Durgeon.”

  A flash of recognition startled across the woman’s worn face. She swept the tousled hair from her eyes and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. “Yes sir. I’ll go get him now, Sir.” The woman scrambled away.

  Salazar leaned his forearms on the counter and trained his gaze ahead, and I was grateful for the reprieve from his scrutiny. Seeing him in charge, speaking with an authority he had no doubt learned from Count Washur, a man who knew how to get his way at all times, unnerved me. But then, I suspected that most things would unnerve me then. Every inch of me felt raw and I wanted nothing more than to shut out every single thought with sleep.

  When Durgeon finally arrived, he looked nothing like his wife. His attire was as composed as was his manner. He bowed his head first to Salazar and then to me. “The Lord and Lady are housed elsewhere. If you’ll follow me, I’ll lead you there.”

  Salazar nodded curtly and fell into step behind the short man with ruddy cheeks and a small round belly that stuck out solidly above his breeches, despite a thick coat that tried but couldn’t conceal it. Durgeon held the door open for Salazar and for me, and then he led us down the street, away from the way we’d come, keeping close to the buildings.

  Although I couldn’t see Durgeon’s reason for avoiding the street, I could smell it. The stillness of the night didn’t mask the stench of animal and human waste that polluted the streets until a rain came that swept it away, where it eventually met with the river and they forgot about it until it built again.

  Several houses away from the inn, Durgeon turned into an alley. He walked past several doors and stopped in front of an unremarkable brown one. He gave a curt knock, inserted his key, and pushed open the door. Without another word from him, he motioned us into the house and pulled the door closed behind us. I heard the key turn in the lock. Then hurried footsteps scurried away.

  I gulped as I turned back to face Salazar. In the dark I couldn’t make out more than the outlines of his body and face, but I felt him. I knew I wasn’t yet in the presence of an ally. And I was locked in an unfamiliar house with him. I waited, just as I had so many times before in my life, forgetting who I was fast becoming for a few moments while a man would determine my fate. But it would be the last time I entrusted my destiny to a man.

  “Spark a light so we can see our way up the stairs,” Salazar said.

  I shook my head before realizing he couldn’t see me. “You do it.”

  “I can’t.” Bitterness dripped from those two words. “My uncle bound my magic,” he said, and I’d never heard the word uncle sound so unpleasant. “You must do it.”

  I was in the process of debating whether or not I should reveal how limited my control over my magic was, when Grand-mère saved me from it. “Up here, my darlings. Come now.” In an aside, “Mordecai, send light down to guide them.”

  I lit up from within when Salazar began to follow the ball of light up narrow stairs. Warmth spread within me like warm honey, and I thought I would gladly follow this ball of light as far as it would take me.

  As it was, it only led me up one flight of stairs that night. But it was far enough.

  Chapter 7

  Things looked much brighter in the light of morning, even if it streamed through dingy windows to rest on cobwebs and open spaces, empty of more than furniture. Even Marcelo and Sylvia looked better with the yellow glow of sunlight sweeping across their faces. Grand-mère insisted that Mordecai move their bodies into the sunshine. “The light of the sun is one of the most powerful medicines there is,” she said. It would help heal them.

  So I sat with my back against a wall holding Marcelo’s limp hand, the sunlight streaming over my shoulder. The sun warmed me from the inside as it sunk though the thickly layered material of my skirts. Gertrude purred contentedly from my lap, sunshine illuminating her like the treasure that she was to my heart.

  “I’m sorry for the squalid rooms, ma chérie, but it’s best this way. We don’t want to call more attention to ourselves than necessary right now. Not until we are farther away from Washur,” Grand-mère said.

  “Where’s the dragon?” I asked. Arriving in Dillbasin atop a dragon would clearly draw attention to them, even if the town’s residents were asleep when they got here.

  “We had to leave him and Mathieu outside of the town, in a cave I knew. They’ll be safe there until we return for them.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “And how did you get Sylvia and Marcelo here?”

  “Ah, my child,” Mordecai answered from behind me, with a twinkle to his eye. “A magician as old as I has his secrets.”

  I sighed. Secrets and more secrets. I wondered if I would ever receive answers in place of greater mysteries. “And is there a chance that you might want to share this particular secret?”

  Mordecai swung around in front of me to smile an enigmatic smile that kept his secret close. But I added, “Do you remember when we rode in the coach with Mirvela from Irele to Bundry?” Mordecai looked at me now, waiting for what he knew was coming. “Do you remember that you promised to teach me magic? You said that you would actually help me learn magic.”

  Mordecai sighed.

  “Do you remember? You helped teach me some while we were in the Castle of Bundry, but you could always teach me more.”

  “Yes, my child, I do remember. You’re right. Please forgive an old man his arrogance.”

  But I knew it wasn’t arrogance, and perhaps, so did he. It was interest for a field that revealed new surprises with each turn. For a man that possessed child-like enthusiasm, Mordecai was eager to indulge in adventure and secrets.

  “You would like to know how I got Marcelo and Sylvia here without drawing attention to us?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you shall. I cloaked them in an invisibility spell and hovered them behind us as usual. It became a bit tricky when Durgeon opened the door for us and tried to push us inside, but I persisted. And here we are.” Mordecai smiled, evidently satisfied that he’d revealed his secret to my satisfaction.

  I sighed and added invisibility spell to my mental list of things to learn on my own. As soon as we were back in the castle at Bundry or Irele, I was sure I could find the spell in one of the many books in the library. Yet, even then, the part of me that understood that I didn’t need spells noted the possibility of invisibility. It archived the ability in the part of me that I could call on when I turned not to my mind, but to my heart, and to the five-petal knot that thrummed as strongly as ever there, disguised by the beating of my physical heart.

  “How long will we be staying here?” I asked.

  Grand-mère moved toward the window, where Sir Lancelot was studying passersby, that looked out onto the alleyway below.

  “We aren’t sure yet. It depends on factors that aren’t readily within our control,” Grand-mère said.

  I huffed, and the sound stood out against the pleasantness of the sunny space. Grand-mère turned to look at me. I turned
my gaze down, suddenly embarrassed at my frustration at having to figure out so much of this magic stuff by myself.

  My lips parted, prepared to offer an explanation that I didn’t really want to give. But I didn’t have to. As it had been so many times during my childhood, before Grand-mère supposedly died, she understood what I wasn’t sure I even understood myself. She offered me a curt nod of acknowledgment before turning back to the window.

  “We’re waiting for someone, another magician. But I’m not certain he’ll be able to meet us here. He was far away when I called for him. He might not be able to make it here before it’s our time to leave again.”

  “And who is this magician?” I asked Grand-mère’s back, elegant despite the long day yesterday and the lack of the usual comforts and accommodations of the noble class. The royal blue silk draped her slender, tall posture exquisitely. Unexpectedly, a sadness descended upon me, defying the joy that seemed inevitable in the warmth of the sun. I missed my time with Grand-mère. I mourned the loss of the time I could have spent with her and all she could have taught me. Obviously, she could have helped me see that I was becoming a witch, or perhaps she could have shown me that I’d been one all along.

  Grand-mère turned once more from the windowsill. This time, she flashed a mischievous smile very much like Mordecai’s, yet infinitely more graceful and alluring. I forgot all about any sadness, lured in by a mischief of which I wanted very much to be a part.

  “My dear darling, I’d love to tell you, but I can’t spoil the surprise. It’s too good of one to ruin so close to its revelation.” Her smile widened. “You’ll find out soon enough. Patience, ma chérie. Patience is key. It’ll eventually reveal every secret you wish to know.”

  Despite Grand-mère’s appreciation of patience, my thoughts toward it were not as kind. I wondered if the day would ever come when I found out what I wanted in the moment I wanted. I would happily send patience on its way to help someone else endure the frustrations of not receiving what she desired.