Feral Magic

by Nicolette Jinks

  “Come,” Mordon said, “we should get these two back to what’s left of the nursery. They’ll restore that first.”

  I trailed him, mostly not paying attention to where we were going, but as we passed a mirror, the reflection made me pause.

  A large gray eye, purple slit for a pupil, stared back at me. I blinked and it was gone. I dismissed it as fatigue or imagination, but he image lingered in my mind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Denise wasted no time upon waking to retell every detail of our adventure. Mordon’s parents came back first thing in the morning. Like everyone else, except a few farmers who went to sleep in their barns, I slept on the floor of the main hall then woke to help prepare breakfast—before getting looped into aiding with the reconstruction work.

  When the wind came up while we were mending the thatching, I subconsciously rerouted the it to blow ten feet higher so our roofing wouldn’t be cast away. I put breezes on sweaty brows and fanned cooking fires. Using my magic had become second nature, and I wondered when that had happened.

  I lost track of everyone that I knew, but I felt at home surrounded by strangers. They smiled kindly and were more than eager to press something in my hands to hold until they needed it. Sometimes it was square nails, sometimes it was a drink, sometimes a wand, and on several occasions, a young child who couldn’t decide between dragon and human. My body grew tired and the wind broke my barrier and whipped through construction areas a few times before a man tapped my shoulder, smiled, and lifted up his hand.

  I felt the wind lift off my magic. He also was a wind elemental. I smiled; I didn’t get to meet many like me.

  “Go get your rations,” the man said and motioned me back to the main hall.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Outside the hall, Nest ladled lamb stew into bowls.

  “Here you are, Ferline dear,” Nest said as she handed me a bowl with her shaking hand.

  “Ferline!” called Enaid, shaking free of the planning committee to come see me. She lead me a discreet distance from the others and steered the committee away with a glare. “Ferline, I must administer my regrets. I was judgmental and bitter without reasonable cause. I was blind to your abilities and your intentions, and you repaid me with far more kindness than needed.”

  “I didn’t realize I was being particularly kind to you,” I said, confused.

  Enaid looked around where the workers had made most buildings back to new again, “I meant with your help. Guests typically don’t wake up at dawn to make breakfast gruel then get passed around the colony as a ‘hold this’ person.”

  I chuckled and shook my head, “I am glad you came to talk to me, but I did this because it’s natural to me—not to garner favor.”

  Enaid nodded, looked back at the crowd awaiting her, sighed, and moved to join them.

  I climbed up stairs to the wall and sat on the scaffolding, gazing over the valley. I ate my stew quickly, tasting the coppery aftertaste in the broth. The lamb itself tasted florally with a molasses-like sweetness to it, the way the air here smelled.

  “May I join you?” asked Mordon, seemingly appearing from thin air and startling me.

  I glanced over my shoulder and nodded, noting that all remnants of his fights were erased from his skin. He’d changed out of his sorcering robes and into a tan tunic—though I appreciated him in other colors, tan suited him best. Nest had provided me with a similar tunic last night, and it was soft and plush. He sat down beside me.

  “Denise told me what she said to you,” Mordon said, “I suppose you have questions for me?”

  “No.”

  “No?” he leaned forward, and I was relieved the scaffolding stayed in place, “Are you sure?”

  “Mordon,” I said, “I’ll help you look for her if it’s what you want.”

  His hand touched my cheek and I shivered. “It’s not,” he said, pulling back at my hesitation, “I have been chasing a ghost for thirteen years.”

  “Then,” I asked, “what is it you do want?”

  Mordon smiled, wrinkles forming under his eyes, “I think it’s fair to ask what you want first.”

  I chewed on my lip and let out a huff of breath, saying the first thing that came to my mind. “I want go flying.”

  He let out a short laugh, “And beyond that?”

  “I never was much of a plan-ahead sort of person.”

  “Completely contradicting everything I’ve seen with you and your tricks,” mused Mordon.

  “I think of them on the spot, I don’t plan them out ahead of time.”

  “What if you did?”

  “Really?” I asked and he nodded. I shrugged, “I get bored with them...unless I have someone to play a trick on. I did that a lot with Leif and Griff—”

  “Griff?”

  I sighed, “He was accidentally turned into a human and we were determined to help him...he grew jealous when I had a crush on...someone else. When he left, it wasn’t a happy ending.”

  “And it lead to you losing your magic with that curse.” His voice was ice, and I shivered at the venom in his eyes.

  I drew back in surprise, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “I should not have said anything,” said Mordon, changing subjects. “We have some time until Leif burns us a letter. We could return to King’s Ransom, or we could stick around here. I think the colony’s quite taken with you.”

  I looked into his lion eyes, glad they were warm once again. “Think this could be home away from home?”

  “Could be.” He wagged a finger at me, “You’ve taken to this much better than Lilly had.”

  I laughed, “There’s not a baker in sight! That woman lives on carbohydrates.”

  “This is true,” Mordon smiled, then motioned to the open, calm air over the horizon, “Feel like an evening flight? Nothing like watching a sunset from midair.”

  “People are still working.”

  “Different people than before. We’re both out of rotation. Or is that a way to decline my offer?” Mordon stood up and offered his hand. I took it.

  We walked along the wall until we came to a place where there were steps carved into the cliff leading to a large flat area. Mordon called it the landing zone. Above and around, the cliff had been scraped to be completely smooth so enemies couldn’t scale it easily.

  Once again I was distracted examining my surroundings and didn’t notice Mordon had changed until I stepped backward and tumbled over his tail. With some scraping, Mordon turned to face me, hot breath blowing in my face.

  “What are you doing down there?”

  I bopped his nose, succeeding only in jarring my knuckles and making him laugh. A fleck of fire fell onto my pants and I patted it out.

  “You’re ornery as a dragon.”

  He pulled is lips in a smile, revealing jagged teeth. “Would you like to go or not?”

  “One sec,” I said, snaring a golden red stream of hair beneath his chin, “so this is the beard you’re always playing with.”

  A claw reached up to rake talons through it. “Ah, yes. I had not realized it was a habit of mine until you brought it to my attention.”

  I climbed onto his shoulders and gave him a slap. “Ready when you are.”

  “Hold on tight,” Mordon said, his muscles bunching beneath me as he lowered into a crouch.

  He launched and I had to grab him tightly. We fell a little, then he beat his wings, each powerful stroke carrying us higher and higher. I stretched in the wind, feeling how his wings sliced through the air. We cut into a stream and he locked his wings in an effortless glide.

  We weren’t the only ones in the air—I caught a glimpse of a couple, one dark red dragon and a moss green one, weaving in and out of mist from a geyser, dodging away before it erupted. One of my earlier conversations had been about the geyser and how it was quite the romantic place to go. Younger drakes would challenge each other for who could stay in the stream longest. The parents did not like that game very well—i
t would be adolescence before the young grew scales thick enough to truly withstand the heat.

  Mordon tipped to the left and brought us to face the sunset.

  “We going to just sit here, or you going to show me some moves?” I teased.

  Mordon looked back at me, his red scales glowing in the setting sun. “Daring little thing.”

  “Let’s do a barrel roll!”

  I wasn’t anticipating him to dip down, gather up speed, then pull up. My entire orientation abandoned me in the whirl of ground, sky, and air. I thought we were plummeting straight upwards when suddenly the ground rushed at us, then Mordon turned the opposite direction I thought he should. We continued like this for a few more loops before he flattened out. I swayed.

  “Hold on,” he rumbled, “I don’t want to catch you.”

  I laughed, my stomach settling again as he took things slow.

  “Rolls are a tactic to slow yourself so you don’t overshoot a target,” he said, “Also a way to check the air and avoid a grapple fight.”

  “And dives gain you speed.”

  “Yes.” A chuckle ran through his chest, “My favorite way to depart the colony is to dive off the cliff, but I did not think you would enjoy that very much.”

  I shook my head, though Mordon couldn’t see it.

  The two drakes we had seen earlier were now doing aerial acrobatics, each was doing a barrel roll like Mordon had been, but they were at opposite ends of the roll, forming a spiral through the air.

  “Rolling scissors,” mused Mordon, “not something anyone wants to become entangled with—the first to leave has a distinct disadvantage.”

  We discussed other aerial maneuvers and watched the last of the orange and purple fade from the sky. Mordon demonstrated a few more moves when I prodded him about it.

  “You understand,” Mordon said as we came out of a roll where he clamped his wings to his body and spun in a dive, then shot back into the air, “most riders are happy with a leisurely glide.”

  “Since when am I like most people of any sort?” I giggled as he let his body fall a little, sending my heart up to my throat.

  “You are fortunate to have selected one of the best acrobats in the colony,” said Mordon proudly.

  “Not the best?” I teased.

  A puff of smoke washed over me. “The day anyone outflies Nest will be a day for celebration.”

  “Denise said something about there being other colonies?”

  “There were. Half of them were just gone, lands and all, one day. Those that were left behind suffered a series of onslaughts—everything from unicorns to gnomes and humans. Many of the survivors slipped into human villages and lived life that way. Others limped here to the colony, and we have been living like this since.”

  “The children are mostly all quite young,” I said.

  “Yes. After my sister and I were born, the colony had troubles. One thing after another. We were eventually discovered one of our own was behind it, and we’ve had some successful hatchings since, my sister’s young included. I must thank you for taking good care of him.”

  “The baby? I didn’t know who his parents were.”

  We landed. I slipped down his shoulders as Aeron walked the last steps to speak with Mordon.

  “Pardon me, but we have matters to discuss.” Aeron said in the same cool tone he used on everyone else in his colony. I gathered this meant he saw me as one of his own, not as a foreign human.

  I nodded, gave Mordon a little wave, and went down to the main hall.

  Enaid told me that Nest wished to speak with me, and told me how to get to her. I followed the tunnels down until they opened up to a forested area tamed with various wildflowers.

  “Nest?” I called.

  “Here, in the roses,” she said.

  I came to her in a sitting area. Nest was trimming up a bush that had gone spindly and wild.

  “Every year,” Nest said, “I prune these down, and every year they grow back thick and luscious and boast more blooms than those which grew at their own pace. That one by your side? It started life beautifully, was strong and ready to bloom its first bud. Then came along a goat, and it ate the bush to the ground. Oh, how I wept! And thirteen years passed by with no sign of improvement. I thought it had died. Nothing would grow in its place, either. But just these last few days, it grew into this. And look at it now, ripe with buds and thick with leaves, ready to burst with color. Seldom before have I seen a blue-gray rose.”

  I reached forward, caressing a round bud with my forefinger, the bud cool and alive as a breeze whisked through and cast dogwood tree blossoms about me. The bud shuddered on my finger and expanded, unfurling rows and rows of tiny petals until a cherry-sized bloom cascaded over my fingers. A lightning bug glowed to life and flew up to tap my forehead, then joined other glowing bugs in illuminating the darkening sky.

  “Such a sight,” said Nest, “brings me great joy.”

  “Agnes,” I said, shivering in anticipation and excitement, “What is this? What’s going on?”

  “This is my garden,” she said, “and every creature’s life is represented here by a plant.”

  She pointed next to me, to a tall rose bush with long thorns and dark scarlet petals, the two rose bushes tangled up in each other with the draping vines of the blue-gray rose wrapping about the towering scarlet stems. A moth fluttered first on a scarlet rose, then down to the blue-gray rose as Nest spoke.

  “That bush is Mordon’s, and this is the first year it has bloomed since the other one died.”

  “...what are you saying?”

  Nest smiled at me and patted my hand, “Welcome to your home, future Lady of Kragdomen.”

  Nest soon left me sitting on a stone bench, breathing in the faint scent of honeysuckle as the moon rose and the stars came out. There was something terrifying in that rose which had bloomed in my hand, something more terrifying about Nest’s prediction and the way that moth had come to rest on both flowers.

  I put my face in my hands and breathed in cool air.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I stared up at the purple sky with pinpricks of silver light cascading all about me, turning leaves into waxy gleams and dark flowers darker, light flowers lighter. While most flowers closed up into a tight bulb for the night, a few opened to drink in the moon’s rays. My rose, Mordon’s rose, they both stayed wide and receptive of the honeysuckle breeze’s caress.

  I smelled pepper and nutmeg, and felt the heat from searching embers before I heard Mordon’s boots crunch on the path behind me coming down the hill. His flames stood out in the moonlight, a translucent green with opaque red tips the same color as his rose had been in the evening sun. Wondering if it was common to see another sorcerer’s magic more plainly than your own, I made a mental note to look it up in Skills, no matter how many articles it made me write for the information.

  When Mordon sat down beside me, he chose to be close, our knees almost touching. My stomach fluttered. He looked at the joined rose bush before us, eyes lingering over the almost-black petals resting against the nearly-white petals. My breeze stirred them to life, a tiny dance like ripples on a pristine spring.

  Mordon took in a deep breath, and I wondered if he smelled my magic the way I smelled his spiced flames flicking in fine wisps around us, excited, nervous, joyful. I met his eyes engorged with the dim light of the evening. I lingered on his lean jaw, his wet lips. He looked away, his magic shied back. I smiled just a little.

  “Nest,” I said, letting my voice flow casually, “said that gray-blue rose just came up to bloom.”

  He smiled and shook his head, “That woman never tells anyone which plants represent whom. Tradition, you see. She tends the garden, and depending how well she tends it is how well the colony survives. It’s a role passed down from one tender to another.”

  I looked up the hill, past the bushes, and saw the shine of a window high up on the hill. I suspected I knew where my suite’s back door let out. The colony migh
t help me restore the overgrown path to it. My tongue dashed over my lips again as Mordon’s hand brushed my leg when he leaned forward in contemplation.

  “I wonder who that bush is. A potent child? A newly shifted adult? I wonder...”

  “The red bush is you,” I murmured.

  “And the other?” he whispered, casting a long look down to my ring, his eyes intense.