We walked and talked, and I tried to not think that this boy had likely been a part of the shadow dragon that enslaved Railey and tried to kill me. The opening seemed to be a portal into a backyard, I noticed as we walked through it.
“She said she will see you soon to say good-bye.”
We entered the light of day, the sun drying rain drops on grass, and behind me was the back porch of 613 Ferret Drive; the yard on this side was as thriving—and about as manicured—as the drake’s farming fields. Five spirits stood on the back porch and watched me. I nodded to them, and in response I got everything from a tip of the hat to a wave. The house reached out to me, letting me know that though it was filled with magic, it was sad with its emptiness. It yearned for the days when residents lived in it. I heard distantly the wooden floors reminiscing with the walls, and the doors creak open and shut when they agreed with what was being said. The roof complained about its state of disrepair. I couldn’t believe how chatty the thing was.
“I’ll come tend to you later,” I whispered to it. The house heaved a contented sigh. Somehow, I felt responsible for the house. Later, when I could afford the time, I would get carpenters and roofers out here—after, of course, my friends checked out all its spells and identified any portals.
For now, I turned my attention to Lilly putting away her last healing scroll; to Leif holding her; to Mordon holding my human form with his back to me; to Barnes who was the only one acknowledging my presence.
I didn’t know if he understood who the dragon before him was, but he motioned to Mordon. Mordon set my human body down and when he saw me, a deep, red furrow formed between his eyes and I expected him to breathe fire. He bolted to his feet and yelled, “What are you doing here? Go before I make you!”
I must remind him of his doppelganger from ages ago. I couldn’t help but curl my mouth into a smug grin. Why had I ever been jealous of his mystery dragon? Trying to remember how the child had joined his two forms back together, I sidestepped Mordon, then reached to touch my human body.
A fire bolt flung my arm wide, missing Lilly only because Leif pulled her away.
“I won’t let you force a joining with her!” snapped Mordon. Force a joining? I didn’t know that was possible. It was yet another thing I would need to learn about.
I sighed. “Barnes,” my voice rumbled through the air, “I’m tired. Can you keep Mordon from going crazy?”
Barnes shrugged, seeming to recognize me but amused in the prospect of letting me flounder for a bit, saying in a low voice, “Mind your manners, Mordon.”
Lilly’s tiny hand slapped my nose. “I won’t have you take Fera’s body, either.”
It was nothing more than a bump to me, something to make me blink, but her hand was scraped and starting to bleed—not that she cared.
I couldn’t sense anyone’s magic in my exhaustion, but I would guess they were on guard. Folding my legs under my belly, I laid down in one smooth motion so as to be a little less intimidating while refusing to be chased away.
“Leif,” I said, “I really did see that dragon fly over the moon and land in Mother’s rhododendron.”
Leif stood in front of me, put his hand on one side of my face and push lightly to turn my head. I let him nudge me this way and that so he could inspect my features for whatever would trigger recognition—Mordon was well past any of that, he still obsessed over my barely moving human form. Satisfied, Leif stepped back and mused, “Yes, I can see that now. It makes sense why your father was awake at that hour, and the dragon mysteriously disappeared right before he showed up.”
With twitch of a smile, Leif said, “Mordon, let down your guard.”
Mordon refused.
“I gave you an order.”
“No,” said Mordon firmly.
“You’re sweet,” I told Mordon, “Really. But I’d like to walk on the streets at Merlin’s again.”
He stared at me, blinking. “Feraline? ...You—you’re a drake?”
At least he backed away. “But—you—you should have remembered the dreams, too, if—”
Lilly scoffed, “Feraline? Remember something? I’ve been stunned at how much of an academic she’s become in her old age.”
“Hush, Lil. And it would have helped if Mordon had told me his real name. I thought I had an invisible friend named Thessen,” I said, reaching forward again to touch my other form and musing to myself that I’d exaggerated my forgetfulness because it let me get away with more pranks, “Let me concentrate.”
Skin and scales blended, smoothing into one another, the bones lining up, my wings folding in on themselves, disappearing into a human back. My low hips shifted into a higher position, my nose shrunk. Disoriented, I closed my eyes listening to the small pops and creaks of my skeleton reforming, feeling the stretch of my muscles. Aches spread through my body, then abated as my joining completed. I lay facing skyward, surprisingly damp ground wetting my shoulders.
Mordon’s harried face filled my vision, much too close to come into focus with my still-spinning head.
“Going to let me sit?” I asked when he stood there, blinking at me and seeming to search my face for any indications of how I was feeling. Several days ago, I would not have thought him the sort to be a worry wart; now it seemed like I had a knack for making him concerned.
In an instant, Mordon was kneeling beside me and was holding me like I was a porcelain doll held over granite. For just a few seconds, my vision dimmed in black and purple splotches, but then I felt well again.
“I’m going to want a thorough explanation for your actions, lady,” said Mordon with a mock scowl.
“Sometime,” I said, took his face in one hand, brought his cheek to my lips, and planted a light kiss on his rough skin. “Later.”
“Hey, now,” said Leif, “all of us need to have a long meeting to piece together what happened just now.”
I had a feeling he also meant what suddenly had Mordon and me swooning over each other, but that explanation could wait for a while as well. I was alive, Mordon was alive; we all were alive, tired, but not as worse for wear as I would have imagined.
Nice as it was to have scales for armor, I did enjoy being back in my own skin—would I come to accept the dragon form as being “me”, too? I dropped my hand down to the grass, and the dragon ring fell off. Confused, I picked it up again—it looked the exact same as before, it wasn’t broken nor did it appear any larger.
Mordon sighed, and I couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of relief or a sigh of heartbreak, and he said to the inquisitive eyes around us, “Her focus ring isn’t just a focus ring—it’s a family heirloom, a ring that customarily was presented by a drake’s family to potential mates. The ring wouldn’t fit if someone was unsuitable, and the ring wouldn’t come off if the candidate was a good match. Well, it would come off, but only once it felt the two people had enough understanding of each other to decide where to take the relationship from there.”
“Sounds handy,” mused Lilly, twirling her light red hair around her finger.
“Hardly novel,” grumped Barnes, twitching his mustache in annoyance.
Leif was looking between us, his face completely blank—which inevitably meant he was deep in thought. Doubtless, he was weighing the pros and cons of having a pair of drakes in his circle and making preemptive decisions on what to do should we have any number of relationship problems like all the couples before us. Had Leif experienced these things firsthand? I’d never heard of him dating, though I would suspect he would keep his love interests well hidden from public.
“Should Fera choose to decline, I assume she would only have to select a new focus ring?” Leif said. It was a far cry from what I’d thought he was thinking, but still.
Mordon shifted his eyes to me as though to prompt me to say that option wouldn’t be necessary, but I couldn’t resist the prankster in me. I stared back at Mordon, forcing him to answer Leif’s question.
“Yes, but it would mean bonding with a new ring,” sa
id Mordon.
“A trifling inconvenience,” said Barnes. He winked at me, then added, “She might take a day or so to consider. Feraline’s a strong woman, throwing a man into the mix will be a challenge.”
Though I didn’t speak much with Barnes, I fancied I saw much of myself in him. Stringent officer as he was now, I would bet he had been the neighborhood boy who caused all kinds of creative havoc on friends, family, and foes. Perhaps he was not only jesting Mordon, but giving me advice.
I nodded, and put the ring over my pinky finger; the gold dragon complied by tightening its tail until it held comfortably. “I’ll think about it.”
Mordon looked away so I couldn’t see the pang in his eyes. It was like I was being proposed to and delaying an answer, but I needed a little consideration time. Unlike my brother, I had had enough whirlwind romance and needed to let my brain catch up before moving again. Mordon was raised in an utterly different culture, and though I’d enjoyed it during my brief visit, it would take a lot of effort on both of us to make this relationship work. Barnes caught my eye and nodded. We both knew what my answer was going to be, we both knew I was too rational to decide otherwise, but we both knew I would take a little time to acclimate to my decision. What Barnes didn’t know was I liked to resolve my choices promptly.
For the moment, I looked around and marveled in the beauty of being here. The blades of grass whispered to each other in my ears, the tree swaying above me still sang with the leaves in the wind. I gathered my strength, but my body sagged as I wobbled to my feet, accepting the offered hands and shoulders until blood flowed into my limbs again. I shook free of everyone, took three increasingly smooth steps forward, and stretched out my lithe body, letting the zephyr swirl past me, tugging on my shirt and tousling my loose hair. I smiled. I was a creature of the woods and the sky, unafraid of the darkest shadows, thriving in the light and open horizons.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lilly wouldn’t allow me to rise late the next morning, and as she’d take three squares of her safari ant chocolate bar this morning, she was downright intolerable. I barked her out of my dawn-filled room and got dressed in spite of my cloudy head. For just a few minutes, I stared out my window into the garden below. Just past wild bushes, I saw the dimple in the ground where Nest cultivated the plants representing the colony. After all this fancy dancing and the ensuing feast, I was ready to dig my fingers into the dirt. Later. It would have to be later, after the boy’s funeral.
I was informed that while I was “playing sleeping beauty in Hope’s vase”, Leif and Lilly were at work uncovering the head ghost who controlled the other ghosts. It was a boy by the name of Jacobs Heimer-Snitzgoodle, a boy from the lost colony who died and fell victim to the manipulations of an Unwritten spell. Before the other souls could rest, we would have to give his remains a proper burial. Apparently, said remains were found in a search of Gregor’s home while I was “playing sleeping beauty on the floor in my sunroom”. Mordon slept hard, too, but no one gave him crap about it.
Yawning still, I wandered into the commons area and joined Mordon at the breakfast nook. As he had only brought out one drink of drake’s brew, I stole half of his. He didn’t object. The Thaumaturgical Tribune lay before him, unopened as his glazed eyes stared unmoving at a picture of the crowd at the ball. Now that I looked at it, it played recordings of each person’s introduction. I missed seeing my illusion from an outsider’s perspective to look around our commons lounge for the others—I hadn’t seen Lilly since she left my room, and I hadn’t seen Leif or Barnes at all.
On cue, Barnes busted down the door, rubbed his hands together with a twitch of his handlebar mustache, and said, “Alright! Lilly has the cleansing powder, Leif has a plot ready, I have posted an announcement, all that’s needed now is for everyone to attend!”
“It’s kinda early...isn’t it?” my voice was a little hoarse.
“It’s ten,” said Barnes with too much perk in his voice.
I wondered what I’d been doing for two and a half hours. Had I been staring into space? I looked at Mordon. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
“Drakes hibernate for a reason.”
I felt moderately more awake, I supposed. Getting to my feet, I followed after Barnes in a haze, not noticing the vendors, the food, the drink, the salespeople who hung back only because they caught Barnes’ glare. Over time, I started actually taking notes on where we were going. Barnes lead the way to the sacred ground, several decks up and quite the walk to the east. I caught my breath when I saw it, a floating plot of lawn, headstones, and lots of bouquets. Mordon put his hand on my shoulder and I took solace in it.
Flower stalls lined the grounds, and I was impressed how many people came to pay respects—it was much busier at any given time than a normal cemetery. Lilly and Leif each had a cluster of forget-me-nots, and Barnes went to buy a bunch as well. Mordon guided me to an open vendor, and looked at me expectantly.
The woman tending the booth lifted aged, hooded eyes up to me as well, but her hands shuffled some bunches so I could better see what she had in stock.
“Stargazer lily, gladiolus, and—” I hesitated, trying to remember.
“Yes, deah?” the woman said, having already selected the stems as I spoke them.
“A pink rose, and some cyclamens. Do you have pink ribbon to tie them with?”
The woman scarcely inclined her head before snipping off a length of pink ribbon and tying a bow with hardly a glance at her fingers. “Thirty, deah.”
Mordon paid the woman with three coins, took the gladiolus sprig for himself and gave the others to me. I held Mordon’s elbow with one hand and the flowers in my other, and he lead me around the crowd to where Leif and the others were. Leif was at the head of a small casket, Lilly stood next to him, and Barnes next to her. Mordon and I stood at Leif’s other side. The remainder of the crowd stood facing us, quiet and solemn.
Leif began to sing, and was accompanied by a violin and a cello off to the side, both the instruments had the symbol of a certain sorcerer who sold enchanted instruments. A draping graced the top of the coffin, a simple light blue silk with three white doves on it flying up to the sky. They animated, nosed one another mid flight, and encouraged the smallest to fly up ahead of them. They disappeared into fluffy clouds at the top of the draping and a shifting beam of light replaced where they once were. I sensed only illusion magic from it and was not as impressed as others were. Next, Leif lead a short ceremony in Latin. I did not recognize a word except “mortem” and “vita”, which came to mind as ‘death’ and ‘life’, although I would have to check to make sure.
He signaled to Lilly, and she opened a fist-sized bag, took a bit of it, and tossed it around the coffin. He said some more words, and she dribbled the rest of it on top of the draping. He said what seemed to be a prayer, and the crowd responded with, “Amen.”
A crisp breeze shook me out of my hazy almost-asleep status. I took in a deep breath and looked upward.
Clouds parted and sunlight poured through the skylight, drenching the coffin. Not seeming to notice the cleansing light, the crowd stepped forward one by one and dropped a flower around the coffin. Our circle added the flowers last, but I held on to my rose and cyclamen bundle. Lilly gave me a sad, knowing smile. When Leif laid his forget-me-not on the casket, it began to sink, taking the flowers with it, the soil pulling back like water until the casket was several feet deep. Dirt covered the top and continued settling, then the grass flowed over and filled in, not a scar left on the land. One of the funeral employees set a small headstone down at Leif’s feet. It read:
Jacobs Heimer-Snitzgoodle
Beloved Child, May You Finally Rest
Below the etching was a lamb with a long tail playing on a hill with a single dove just beginning to fly.
Leif and Mordon began to talk in quiet whispers, but as I read the headstone over and over again, I saw the lamb leap and bound, up the hill, down the hill, back up again, kicking up his
heels and wagging his long tail. The dove swooped and soared, diving and spinning, finally coming to land on his back. They looked off the side of the stone, and then came two adult sheep, peering at him. They called the lamb, and it ran happily over to nuzzle them. They walked off the stone and were gone.
A breeze swept over my skin, and I closed my eyes, smelling honeysuckle and spices. When I opened my eyes again, the headstone was as it had been before: a lamb with a dove on a hill.
“Feraline?”
It was Lilly. The crowd was gone, and the men were involved in their talks. She held out her hand to me, and I took it, letting her show me through the rows and rows of headstones, taking me to the one old weeping willow in the corner. She pulled aside a curtain of leaves, where a concrete bench nestled in front of the trunk. A small patio was there, concrete formed to look like rocks coating the ground. I walked the rest of the way alone, and read the seat of the bench.
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