Magical Arts Academy 11: Dragon's Fury

by Lucia Ashta

  My brother must have noticed the alarm in my eyes, because he spoke to me in an overly calm way. “All you need to focus on is keeping Sir Lancelot safe while we free Walt. Can you do that for me?”

  I could do anything for my big brother. I nodded.

  “Good. First, Sir Lancelot, are your injuries grave?”

  Nando and I peered down at the petite owl, who looked more like a doll than something alive, with his big, doe-like eyes, and pitiful, convalescent expression.

  “I’ll survive, no thanks to the big brute that trapped us in here. I’m grateful to you for asking, Lord Hernando.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I believe so. I hope no bones are broken. It doesn’t feel like they are at least, though I could be wrong. I’ve never had a broken bone before. An owl’s bones are hollow, you see. It’s what makes us so light and agile. But they’re incredibly fragile.” He sighed as if his burdens were as heavy as the stone that trapped us inside the castle.

  “How did you get hurt?” Nando asked.

  “The wind, it was the air element that Lady Clara summoned. Bless her, she was only trying to get us out of here. But it knocked me into the wall, hard. And then it picked me up and did it again, and again, and again.” He brought a wing to his forehead in lament of his suffering, and I struggled to keep the smile from my face. Our circumstances were dire, sure, but Sir Lancelot was beyond cute.

  His head popped up from my hands. “I might have internal injuries.”

  “I thought you couldn’t die,” I said.

  “That’s not accurate, Lady Isadora, but that very well may be because I’ve never told you my history.”

  “And I fear it will have to wait until another time,” Nando interjected. But I had to understand more, even a little bit.

  “Will you please tell me your history, only abbreviated?” I asked. It was clearly a tall order for the loquacious bird, but I’d had nothing but questions since joining the academy. Walt could wait another thirty seconds, right? Though Sir Lancelot didn’t do much of anything in thirty seconds....

  “Isa,” Nando cautioned.

  “Just super quickly?” I felt immediate guilt over Walt, but peered down at Sir Lancelot expectantly anyway.

  The owl sighed dramatically, then surprised me by doing exactly what I’d asked. “Why of course, Lady Isa. When one of Lord Mordecai and Lord Albacus’ ancestors died, her final will and testament specified that I should be trapped inside the painting made to depict her. I was never to die, nor ever truly live anymore.”

  “So... you probably don’t age or fall ill.”

  “I do not. Once Lord Marcelo summoned me from the painting, more or less permanently, I can only be killed by trauma.” He whisked the other wing across his body in an all-encompassing gesture. “Like this one.”

  “I see,” I said, and I more or less did, though now I was more desperate than ever to hear the rest of the story. But the owl had respected brevity, as much as he was capable of, anyway.

  Walt grunted in pain, and I winced. I shouldn’t have asked Sir Lancelot. It wasn’t right. When I met my brother’s gaze, it was clear he was thinking the same, though he wouldn’t say it.

  “Let’s start moving these rocks,” he said instead.

  He had a bleeding head injury, and I held a fragile, quasi-immortal owl. Regardless, we finally got to work.

  It was time to get out of this castle—for good this time.

  Chapter 9

  Nando managed to move the stones that blocked our path to Walt with relative ease, considering that he had a head injury that continued to bleed freely. Walt’s wisp was undoubtedly a blessing, but its light also allowed me to see my brother, causing me all manner of concern. He’d already told me twice that his head injury was no big deal and that I shouldn’t concern myself with it, but I couldn’t help but do exactly that.

  “I told you not to,” Nando said, looking between Walt and me with a scrunched forehead, a position which served only to accentuate the blood smeared across it.

  “Not to what? I’m not doing anything? I’m standing here, holding Sir Lancelot and not moving, just like you told me to.”

  “You’re worrying about me.”

  “I’m not... All right, I am, but how can you expect me not to? Your face is covered in grime and blood, and you look like death warmed over.”

  “Are you suggesting that I’m not devilishly handsome?”

  I didn’t want to smile, really I didn’t. He was making light of something incredibly serious. Still, he got a small smile out of me before I managed to whisk it away. “I wouldn’t be foolish enough to suggest something so ludicrous as that.”

  He rewarded me with a roguish wink, and I wondered if his humor was for my benefit only.

  “However, I do think you need to sit down and take it easy,” I said.

  “I’ll take it easy once we get out of here.”

  I anticipated he’d say that. Of course I did. There was no one on this planet I knew better. Still... the blood flow wasn’t stopping. “At least let me try to bandage you up then.”

  “With what?”

  I looked around, obviously not finding medical supplies. “My shirt. I’ll cut strips off my shirt.”

  “That would be highly inappropriate. Walt is here.”

  “I think we have bigger problems to worry about than Walt seeing a few patches of flesh.”

  “It wouldn’t bother me,” Walt supplied, sounding weak and reminding me that there wasn’t time for my usual banter with my brother.

  “I’m fine,” Nando snapped, with an offhanded glare at Walt that Walt didn’t see. “Now, enough distracting me. I have to move this rock off Walt’s leg.”

  “I’m not trying to distract you,” I said, but trailed off. He was right. The more I spoke, the longer Walt had to endure pain.

  Nando exchanged a look with me, but then directed his full attention to Walt. “The rock pinning your leg is big and heavy. I won’t be able to lift it on my own.”

  “I can—”

  Nando whirled around and silenced me with a single look, then faced Walt again. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to get under it and lift it enough that you’ll be able to pull your leg out from under it. Do you think you can manage that once I lift the weight of the rock off?”

  “I don’t think my leg can move,” Walt said, “but I’m sure I can drag it out of the way.”

  “Good. Be ready then.” Nando positioned himself behind the rock in question. It reached his knees in height, and was wider than it was tall. “I won’t be able to lift it very long, so I’m going to count. When I reach three, I’ll heave, and you pull your leg out. All right?”

  “All right.” But Walt sounded nervous, understandably so, I thought. That rock was too large for one person to lift.

  I opened my mouth to offer my help again, but decided against it. Instead, I whispered to the owl I cradled in my palms. “Come on, Sir Lancelot. Let’s sit down out of the way.”

  “I think that’s the best plan, Lady Isadora. Your brother will need all the focus we can give him. That rock is nearly as big as a boulder.”

  It really was. Worry instantly bubbled inside me. I forcefully shoved it away while I settled to the floor in a pocket of rubble, positioned so that I’d see every one of Nando’s movements. If it looked as if he was going to get hurt further, I was intervening no matter what he said. I had no idea what I’d do, so I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  Nando squatted low, wrapped his hands around the lip of the rock closest to Walt’s leg, and prepared to lift with the strength of his legs. So far, so good. “You ready?”

  Walt only nodded, but I noticed sweat beaded across his forehead. Whether it was from the nerves or from the pain, I couldn’t tell, but he obviously wasn’t in great shape. A bead of sweat broke free of his hairline and trailed down his temple in a muddy streak.

  “All right. Here we go.” Nando settled more deeply into his position. “One. Two. T
hree!”

  Nando heaved with a horrendous grunt, gritting his teeth together. His face contorted into a terrifying grimace, and the cords of muscle along his neck bulged.

  “Ah!” Walt screamed. “Put it down! Put it back.” He panted. “Slowly. Softly.”

  “Are you... sure?” Nando grunted. I could barely sit still from the nerves. What was going on? The rock needed to come off, didn’t Walt realize that?

  “Put it... down... gently.” Walt had both hands wrapped around the injured leg, but now it seemed as if he were bracing his leg, not pulling or sliding the limb out of the way.

  Nando didn’t bother with more conversation. His face was red beneath the grime, I was sure of it. His arm and leg muscles bulged as he set the rock back down with a clunk. “Sorry,” he said immediately. “Are you all right? I didn’t mean it to drop that last little bit.”

  But Walt was incapable of speech. He nodded, though the gesture lacked sincerity. My brother had hurt him more, even if all he’d done was drop the rock less than the width of one of my fingers.

  “Sorry,” Nando repeated. It was clear from the lament in his tone that he meant it. “It’s really heavy.”

  “I know.” Walt’s voice was strained into a wheezy high pitch.

  “Why did you ask me to stop?”

  “Because”—Walt stopped to breathe—“I realized it wasn’t going to work. It needs to be lifted higher. It’s pinning more of my leg than I thought.” He gulped. “And when you lifted it even that bit, it hurt like bloody hell.”

  “I’m really sorry, chap. Let’s give it another go. I know I can lift it higher for you.”

  Walt smiled, then winced. “Thanks, but we can’t do that again.”

  “I can do it. I’m sure of it.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, but we can’t risk it. My leg’s in worse shape than I realized. We need to use magic to move it.”

  “Huh,” I said without meaning to, but neither boy paid me any mind. Why didn’t Walt suggest that in the first place?

  “Can you do that kind of magic?” Nando asked.

  “Of course I can. Our parents might not have taught Marie and me much, but I can manage a basic moving spell.”

  Nando looked at him dubiously. “Are you sure you want to try it with something this important?”

  “I managed a wisp spell, didn’t I?”

  “Wisp spells are child’s play,” Sir Lancelot said.

  “If that’s the case, then so are moving spells. Both are equally basic.”

  “That’s true, Sir Walt.”

  Sir Walt? When had Walt become a sir?

  “I can do it,” Walt told Nando. “Just move out of the way.”

  Nando stared at him and then at the rock for a beat. “Fine.” He stood and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “It would also help if you don’t watch me like that.”

  “Sorry, but I’m going to watch. I need to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

  “Grrr.” Walt actually growled, but I think he was in too much pain to continue arguing. He closed his eyes and began chanting.

  There is a thing I want to move.

  There is a thing I want to prove.

  I point my finger, and this rock floats.

  It follows the path of my finger,

  and only sets down when I whistle.

  “Only the first part is from the standard spell,” Sir Lancelot whispered to me. “He made up that last bit.”

  Walt extended a shaky finger and pointed at the rock. When he traced the finger up and to the side, nothing happened.

  He repeated the identical action again, and again, before throwing both arms up in frustration. “It’s no use. Bloody hell. I’m in too much pain to concentrate. I can’t do it.” The admission deflated him.

  “I can do it,” Nando and I said at the same time.

  Neither Nando nor Walt looked at me before Nando continued. “Teach me the spell. I can do it.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Didn’t you just admit it was child’s play?”

  Walt looked uncomfortable. “I did, but this is my leg we’re talking about.”

  “Do you see another option? Besides, Mordecai’s runes selected me. I must have some ability to do magic beyond just seeing in the dark.”

  Walt deliberated, but I think the pain was simply too much. “I’ll teach you.”

  “What about me?” I asked.

  “Just relax,” Nando said.

  Relax? He must be making some kind of bad joke at my expense, although I realized he wasn’t. He’d dismissed me is what happened. It stung even though I knew Nando would never hurt me intentionally. If anything, this was another step toward protecting me in his mind.

  “Fine,” I grumbled to Sir Lancelot. “Let’s just ‘relax.’ Ridiculous,” I added under my breath.

  “If it’s of any help, Lady Isa, I think you’d do a fine job with a basic moving spell.”

  I sniffed. “Thank you, Sir Lancelot. I guess we’d better just settle in here then, huh?” I leaned my back against an uncomfortable pile of rocks, shifted back and forth to make the best of it, and settled in, actually closing my eyes. If they didn’t want my help, then fine. I’d relax.

  I leaned my hands against my lap. Sir Lancelot shifted slightly to get comfortable as Walt repeated the spell to Nando.

  “All you have to do,” Walt explained, “is say the words while imagining the rock floating and moving where you point your finger.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Basically.”

  “What if I don’t remember the words correctly?”

  “I can call them out to you.”

  “You can? Does that work? Isn’t that cheating or something?”

  “Do we really care about ‘cheating’ at the moment?”

  “No, I guess not. It’s really that simple?”

  “Yes.”

  “I repeat the words you say, and focus on it happening, that’s it? You’re sure?”

  Walt sighed. “I’m sure. Trust me, I’ve been around magic all my life.”

  “Then let’s do it.” Nando actually sounded eager.

  Walt, however, suddenly sounded concerned. “Make sure to picture what’s happening in your mind too, all right? If not it won’t work correctly.”

  “I’m ready.”

  Walt hesitated, but ultimately began. After all, we were out of options, and we hadn’t even started to deal with the problem of how we were going to get out of here once Walt’s leg was free.

  “There is a thing I want to move,” Walt said, and Nando repeated. They did this line after line, but I stopped listening after the first two.

  I could barely wait until the spell was finished so we could begin clearing all the stones out of the way. There was a lot of rubble. It would take us forever to get it all moved to the back of the alcove to open a path to get out. I wished we could simply whisk it out of the way with a sweep of our minds. Surely there must be some kind of magic that would allow that. Maybe Walt knew another spell Nando could do and make quick work of getting us outside.

  The thought gave birth to a surge of hope. All the stones and rubble would just shove out of the way, just like that, easy as pie.

  “Isa!” Nando screamed at me, and I had to work really hard to keep from snapping at him. He’s under a lot of stress, I reminded myself. “What?” I asked with far more patience than I realized I had.

  “I’ve been calling your name and you didn’t answer.”

  “Oh, sorry. You told me to relax, so I did.” I was proud of myself. I’d been tempted to inject some attitude into my comment, but I hadn’t.

  “Are you doing that?”

  “Doing what? Did you get the rock off Walt’s leg?”

  “I did.”

  I popped open my eyes to verify. Indeed, the rock was no longer on Walt, but Walt didn’t look particularly happy.

  “Are you doing that?” Nando repeated.

  Since it was a poin
tless question, I repeated my answer too. “Doing what?”

  “Making all the rocks move.”

  “What do you mean?” I looked around. Nothing at all was moving besides the wisp that flitted to and fro as if agitated.

  “We already have our answer,” Sir Lancelot said from his place on my lap.

  I peered down at him. He blinked up at me with those impossibly wide yellow eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “All the debris started shaking. The rocks were vibrating as if about to take off in flight, Lady Isa.”

  “I don’t understand.” I looked from the owl, to my brother, to Walt, who offered no information through his glazed eyes.

  “What Sir Lancelot means,” Nando said, “is that you were causing all the rocks around us to move.”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  “I think you were.”

  “Why?”

  Sir Lancelot said, “Because it stopped when your brother claimed your attention and interrupted whatever it is you were doing.”

  “I wasn’t doing anything,” I claimed again, though my mind had started whirling. I had been imagining the rocks and rubble moving out of the way....

  “Are you certain, Lady Isa?” Sir Lancelot asked with a knowing expression on his feathery face.

  I was spared from having to answer the question, though. Just then a beam of glorious sunlight pierced the darkness, and Walt’s wisp vanished as swiftly as he’d conjured it. I suspected even maintaining a spell he’d deemed child’s play had been too much for him. The moment it wasn’t necessary, he released it.

  All eyes were drawn to the light filtering through the rocks ahead of us.

  A large stone was removed, and a substantial swath of sunlight entered our prison. My heart buoyed.

  The four of us waited with breathless anticipation. Even the owl, who always found reason to comment, simply watched.

  A second and then a third stone vanished, widening the opening to the outside world.

  A fourth, particularly large stone disappeared, and Marcelo’s face appeared where it’d been. “Are you ready to get out of here or what?” His words were meant to be humorous, but the mirth didn’t begin to reach his eyes. He’d been worried about us—with good reason.