Dragonsbane

by Shae Ford

  “Now do you understand why I warned you not to do this?” Argon said, fixing as many of them with a scolding look as possible. “You’re fortunate that shield survived the blast. Otherwise, you might’ve put a hole in the tower’s roof. That certainly would have attracted the King’s attention. Do you want him locking you up again?”

  They shook their heads, and several of them glanced nervously at the smoke orb. After a considerable amount of tugging on the curls of her hair, one mage-girl finally worked up the nerve to raise her hand.

  “Not until I’m finished,” Argon said firmly.

  Her hand slid down.

  “I need you all to pay very close attention. My neck is stretched out just as far as it will go. The King’s only allowed you in here because he believes we’re working to solve his problem. One more misstep and I’ll have no choice but to — in a moment young lady!”

  “Please, Master Argon, I think you should know …”

  When the mage-girl glanced anxiously at the orb, it finally struck him. “Who’s in there?” Argon said, doing a quick head count. When he noticed which head wasn’t among them, he let out a string of curses and sent an arrow spell into the side of the orb.

  It popped like a soap bubble, bathing them all in a thick cloud of smoke. Argon pinched his nose closed against the odor of burnt troll and stumbled his way towards the cauldron. “Devin … gah! Devin, can you hear me?”

  “I’m right here.”

  Half a step more and Argon collided with what appeared to be a man-sized stuffed doll. The young mages had Devin wrapped in several layers of gauze. Ice spells and shielding charms had been scrawled clumsily across each layer. It took Argon nearly a full minute of unwrapping just to find Devin’s face. When he finally managed to pull the last layer free, he was relieved to see that the boy looked mostly unharmed.

  For all the mischief they caused, the young mages had proven themselves to be very useful in one matter: they’d gotten Devin to speak.

  Argon had known nothing at all about the boy they’d found living inside the fortress’s hidden courtyard. He’d tried several times to ask him questions, to no avail. For days on end the boy had simply gazed around the tower, his mouth opened in wonder at all of Argon’s books and instruments.

  But he seemed to enjoy magic, and he liked the young mages. It wasn’t long before Argon heard him chatting with the others, asking all sorts of questions about the spells they cast. And he’d made it a point to listen in whenever he could.

  That was how he’d discovered the boy’s name was Devin. Other than that, he’d learned precious little — except that he’d lived with his mother inside the courtyard, and they had a garden where they grew fruits and vegetables.

  Argon stripped the rest of the gauze away and bellowed for someone to open a window. When he’d sent the last of the foul smoke out into the weather, he fixed the young mages with an iron gaze.

  “He is not a plaything.”

  “We’re sorry, Master —”

  “Sorry won’t bring him back,” Argon said over the top of them. He let them stew in their guilt for a moment before he dropped his voice to a more scathing level. “I’m disappointed in you — every one of you. You all know better than to use a human for an experiment. The next mage I catch tampering with Devin will have his impetus locked away for a week. Understood?”

  They nodded stiffly. Several of them clutched their staffs tighter against their chests.

  “Good. Now I would like you all to march down to the library and compose an essay on the dangers of mixing maleficent ingredients — by hand. No writing spells,” he added, stirring up a fresh wave of groans as they filed out the door.

  Once they were gone, Argon dropped the gauze into the cauldron and set its contents ablaze. It was a cleansing fire — a spell of flame linked to one for drawing poisons out of wounds. It ate the potion and the spells off the wrappings, all without producing one wisp of smoke.

  He could feel the weight of Devin’s strange blue eyes upon him while he worked. “It isn’t their fault. I volunteered.”

  Argon snorted. “Yes, in the same way a fledgling volunteers to be first out of the nest — with a good deal of misguided courage.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Argon gestured at the smoke-soiled walls. “When you volunteered, did you know that you might die in a fiery blast with enough malevolent heat to turn your very bones to ash?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then I would say you were misinformed. And your courage, then, misguided.”

  It wasn’t only magic that Devin seemed oblivious to: it was as if … well, as if he’d been locked up somewhere that stood still while the Kingdom grew up all around him. When he thought about it that way, Argon supposed he should’ve expected nothing less.

  And he knew he should try to be a little more patient.

  Devin was missing most of his left eyebrow — which gave him a rather quizzical look. He touched the raw skin around his brow and cheek. There were other patches down his arms.

  Argon sighed. “You were fortunate, child. Very fortunate, indeed. Those young ones can hardly stitch two spells together without causing some sort of fiery burst.”

  Devin shrugged, as if a violent magical death was simply a part of life. He wandered over to the cauldron, scratching madly at his collar as he went.

  One of the first things Argon had done was throw Devin’s rat-hide attire into the hearth. He replaced them with a plain tunic and breeches — and though Devin seemed to like the breeches, he often went without his shirt.

  The male mages didn’t seem to notice. In fact, Argon doubted if he would have ever noticed, had a young female mage not wandered into his office one day and asked if he knew anything about mixing love potions. When Argon had looked up to frown at her, he’d noticed that a small crowd of tittering mage-girls had gathered around Devin.

  They’d been pretending to have trouble opening their vials and had all but trapped Devin in a corner of the room, begging for his help. The giggling that ensued each time he pulled a cork free had been enough to make Argon grind his teeth — and poor Devin had looked absolutely terrified.

  The whites had shown the whole way around his stark blue eyes as he uncorked the next vial. He’d offered it to a mage-girl at the head of the line and flinched under the others’ giggles — as if he expected them to swarm at any moment.

  Most young men in the Kingdom would’ve been thrilled with half of the attention, but Devin had seemed to be on the verge of tears. And Argon realized he would never get any studying done with so much laughter billowing up every few minutes.

  So he’d told the curious mage-girl that he actually knew a great deal about love potions — and warned that if he ever caught her trying to mix one, he’d make sure she fell madly in love with the royal beastkeeper.

  That threat alone would’ve likely been enough to keep the girls from toying with Devin’s heart. But Argon had ordered him to wear his shirt at all times, just in case.

  Now the strange young man from the courtyard seemed perfectly at home amongst the mages. He dug through the wrappings Argon had set ablaze — searching for char marks. When he found none, he shook his head. “Amazing.”

  A few of Argon’s instruments had tipped over during the blast. He was settling them upright when he suddenly had an idea. “Have you not seen magic before, Devin?”

  He shook his head.

  “Really? None at all?” When he shook his head again, Argon decided it was time to simply ask — the worst the boy could do was ignore him. “That courtyard where you lived … were those truly the ruins of …?”

  He couldn’t say it. The shackle around his wrist burned hot the moment he thought of bringing the word Draegoth to his tongue. Crevan had ordered him never to speak of it to anybody, and his command burned hot. Still, he thought there might be a way around it. “Were those ruins truly your home?”

  “That is my home,” Devin muttered as he fiddled with
the dials on a golden spyglass. “It isn’t ruined.”

  “Are you one of the draega, then?”

  Devin froze. His ghostly stare wrapped tightly about Argon, measuring him. “My mother warned me this would happen someday. She said the people who locked us away would come for us, and they would question us … and she said that I wasn’t to answer them.”

  From the way he’d spoken, Argon half-expected him to turn on his heel and march into another room. But he didn’t. Instead, he stayed frozen in place. “Forgive me, child. You’ve spent enough time around the mages to know what curious creatures we are.”

  After a moment, Devin sighed. “I know.”

  “Would you permit me one final question?”

  His gaze seemed to churn as he considered it. The little flecks of white set against the blue appeared to drift slowly in an arc around his pupil. “I trust you more than I trust Your Majesty. One more question.”

  Argon thought carefully. He’d spent hours trekking through the courtyard at the King’s command, searching for others who might’ve been hiding amongst the ruins — wondering if perhaps he would come across the mother Devin had spoken of. But though he’d cast spells for light and life, there’d only been Devin.

  “What happened to the … others? What became of your family?”

  He shrugged. “They died. My mother used to say all her children were like the wildflowers: beautiful while they bloomed, but lasting only a season. I’ve already lived half my life.”

  That couldn’t be possible. Devin was only just a man — he hadn’t even quite gotten his beard. “Forgive me, but you must be mistaken. If your lives were truly so short, your people would’ve perished centuries ago.”

  Devin smirked. “You didn’t know my mother.” All at once, the calm blue of his eyes coiled tightly. “That token Your Majesty took from me belonged to my father — it’s the only thing I have of him. I promised my mother I would keep it close. I want it back.”

  It took Argon a moment to realize what he was talking about. “I can’t help you, child.”

  “Why not? You can use magic.”

  Argon sighed. “There are chains on my wrists as well — you just can’t see them.”

  No expression crossed his face. There was no anger, no frustration or fear. Devin simply walked away.

  He went to the window and laid his hands upon the seal. He pressed his head against the glass and leaned heavily, as if he wished he could tumble out into the world beyond. The stark eyes beneath his brows roved to watch the courtyard.

  Soldiers were gathered around a team of carts. They hauled supplies up by thick ropes and covered them in tarps. They were preparing for the King’s journey into the northern swamps, making certain that all their food and shelter would be protected from the damp air.

  “It’s a short journey,” Argon said as he watched over Devin’s shoulder. “The King has made it many times.”

  That was as comforting as he dared to be. It would’ve been unkind to say that the journey would be easy, or that Devin would return. He wished he could scry the boy’s future, but Fate’s presence sat too heavily upon the Kingdom, now. The waters of his bowl remained pitch black and still.

  “Will I ever see you again?”

  It wasn’t a question Argon had been expecting to hear, and he wasn’t exactly prepared to answer. “I don’t know, child. The future is a fickle thing …” He cleared his throat. “But I hope you will.”

  “I hope that, too,” Devin said quietly. “You’ve been kind to me.”

  After that, the days passed all too quickly. The young mages kept including Devin in their experiments, blissfully unaware that he would soon be taken from them. Argon listened to their chatter as often as he could. When the curtains caught flame, he didn’t scold them quite so harshly.

  Perhaps it was cruel to keep them from the truth. But he thought it would’ve been far crueler to force them to live with the knowledge that Devin was going away … and that even if he returned, he would never be the same.

  When the sun finally dawned upon that dreaded morning, the young mages were still asleep in their chambers. Argon woke to pounding upon the door and opened it reluctantly. A pair of soldiers pushed their way through and grabbed Devin by the arm.

  “Not until I’ve said my goodbyes.” Argon spoke calmly, but the look on his face made the soldiers think twice. They released Devin and waited grumpily by the door.

  “Farewell, child.”

  He didn’t reply. But then again, he didn’t have to: the boy’s deep blue stare pierced Argon straight through the heart. He felt reluctance in every fleck of white, sadness buried in the rifts that burst from his pupils. There was a reflection of all the chains that wrapped around them both — that forced them into tasks they’d never wanted.

  After a silent moment, Devin walked to the soldiers without fear. One of them grabbed him roughly. But instead of trying to pull away, he latched onto the soldier’s arm — like a child might’ve latched to his mother.

  “Be kind to that boy,” Argon said when the soldier looked up in surprise.

  He wasn’t sure if it was the warning in his voice or Devin’s stare that did the trick, but the soldiers were much more careful than usual as they led him away.

  Argon watched the King’s caravan from the window. He frowned as Devin was hobbled and tossed inside one of the carts. When the caravan rolled from the courtyard, Argon’s hands curled rather unexpectedly into fists. He’d watched the King haul countless men to meet the same fate — and though he’d hurt for them, he knew in his heart it would do no good to be angry. Everything happened on a roll of Fate’s die, after all. In the end, she had a purpose for all living things.

  But as the caravan’s tail disappeared through the gates, he began to feel something he’d not felt in a long while. It was an emotion he preferred to cover over with peace — the knowing that all would be as Fate intended.

  Now that peace had vanished, replaced by a doubt that burned dark and fierce. Argon was not content to simply allow the die to fall. For the first time in a long while, he hoped that Fate knew what she was doing.

  Chapter 42

  Remarkable Friends

  Kyleigh … Kyleigh!

  The ice broke. A spray of bubbles clouded her vision as something plunged beneath the flow. They hissed and dissipated into the blue, revealing the spread fingers of an outstretched hand.

  Kyleigh flew towards the hand, ripped along by the river’s fury. If she could grasp it, she’d be saved. She tried to will herself to move, will her arm to stretch and her hand to reach. But the cold was far too great. She couldn’t feel her muscles well enough to urge them on.

  And while she struggled, the hand whipped by.

  It was the only dream she seemed able to have — this one flash of color in an eternal darkness, this one chance to pull her soul from sleep. Each time she missed, Kyleigh was plunged into the black once more. There was no sight or sound, nothing to grab onto. She hung listless in the depths for countless hours, waiting for the dream to come again.

  An age passed before she heard the waters roaring against her ears. Pressure filled her nose and pulled hard against her lips. Her eyes flashed open to a world wrought in shades of greens and blues.

  Twin shadows passed above her, the gallop of footsteps across the ice. She heard the muffled sound of her name as the shadows thundered overhead, and she … she turned to follow them.

  This was new. Instead of waiting for the river to twist her around, she’d twisted on her own. Now she watched as the shadows stopped ahead of her. She knew that hand would be plunging into the water at any moment — and this time, she would be ready.

  Her fingers cracked open, bursting through the frosted shell that’d settled over her skin. Her mind felt sharper: she was no longer a listless thing passed between the worlds of light and darkness, but a prisoner mindful of her cage.

  She would escape. She would pull her soul from the depths.

 
With the force of this thought came a little warmth. Heat pressed against her palms and circled, spreading out to her fingertips. She moved her hand. Her arm followed after. She heard the ice shatter and saw the spray of foam. Her lips parted and a stream of bubbles whooshed out as she swung herself forward.

  In the split second before she reached the hand, the world went dark once more … but she’d made it. She must have. Even in the dark, she could feel the hands in hers. They were numb at first: things she thought didn’t belong to her. When the fingers brushed against her palm, she knew it for certain.

  Feeling came back to her slowly. A song drifted across Kyleigh’s ears — muddled by the distance, growing clearer as she listened. Strange words carried by a familiar voice. They sunk beneath the dream and teased her with their dancing notes. She followed the voice to the edge of darkness, chasing until a seal broke over her lungs.

  They expanded, breathing in an air with taste and scent. Her first breath surprised her. The second carried with it a wakefulness that spread quickly to her limbs.

  Kyleigh’s body was trembling, shivering with cold. There were warm patches on either side of her. They’d begun to thaw her at the edges. Her lungs took in an air that smoldered with heat. It spread warmth through her blood and melted the frost that’d formed inside her chest.

  Flames grew in her middle until they touched the warm patches on either side. Fingers pressed against her palms in slow, circling movements. The smallness of their touch matched the strange words in the song. Kyleigh thought she might’ve fallen into another dream. Just to be sure, she closed around the hands twined in hers, brought them closer …

  The song stopped with a gasp.

  Kyleigh groaned as the warm patch in front of her pulled away suddenly. Cooler air rushed in, startling her eyes awake.

  Dark strands of hair fell loose from her silver clasp, but couldn’t quite shadow the sparks in her eyes. Nadine wrapped her arms about Kyleigh’s neck and plunged her head forward until her ears were filled with the wild thudding of a tiny heart.