Magic Triumphed

by Andi Van

  “Right,” Zaree agreed. “But what does this have to do with Gisik?”

  Firea looked over her shoulder and gave Zaree a sad smile. “Now consider Falcon, who left Triv because she couldn’t bear to see her happy with someone else.”

  Zaree went silent. She hadn’t seen for herself the monster Falcon had become, since she’d gone back down the mountain with Tasis, but the way Kelwin and Jorget had described the creature’s horrible appearance had sent chills through Zaree’s entire body. “Do you think she ended up like that because her personality had become twisted, then?”

  “No,” Yldost answered immediately. “She ended up like that because I was too weak to know what I was doing. I may have thought that turning her into one of my people would enable her to free me.” Their wings and even some of their feathers drooped. “I will do whatever I can to restore her. No one should have to live like that, beyond thought and a slave to their instincts.”

  Zaree caressed Yldost’s feathers again. “We all know you will,” she reassured them. “But why would you have had to turn Falcon into one of your people to free you? Josephina freed you with a word. And what do you mean by turning her into one of your people, anyway?”

  “Exactly that,” Yldost said, as though that explained everything. They mulled it over for a moment before shrugging. “Like Triv and the others. They have been made Vashk’s people. Josephina answers to Vashk, so the magic worked.”

  Firea returned to the table with a plate piled high with pancakes and set it in front of Zaree before taking a seat. “Then why couldn’t Vashk have freed you?” she asked. Zaree had been wondering the same thing and was grateful Firea had broached the subject.

  “You saw what Gisik did to me, yes?” Yldost said with a snort. “His magic… that box, those chains. If Vashk had tried to destroy either, it would have hurt him badly. It could have killed him, maybe.”

  And like that, another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “That’s why the dragons collect people,” Zaree exclaimed once her mouth was empty. “Because you can’t do anything directly to protect yourselves against each other.”

  Yldost shook their head. “Close. Against Gisik. My siblings and I…. We do not always agree, but we do not war against one another. Gisik is the only one. At least, the only one we know of. It may not be so on other worlds, with the siblings we have not met. But unlike our parents, their spawn do not have the ability to leave their birthplace.”

  “Wait,” Zaree said, closing her eyes and leaning back in her seat so she could concentrate. “You said your mother was life, when Jorget asked you if she was the Maker, right? I’m going to guess you didn’t mean that as in we’re all living on an enormous dragon.”

  “Your language is limited,” Yldost grumbled. “Dragon language is more nuanced. She is the world, but she is all worlds?” It was said as a question, as if they were unsure of their own phrasing. Which was likely the case.

  “Yldost,” Firea said softly, and her tone had Zaree opening her eyes to look at her. “Does your mother create worlds? Did she create us?”

  “She created the world,” Yldost confirmed, frowning as they tried to get the words right. “Then she created us, and other life on the world. Her daughter created the green things for the life to continue to grow and thrive. That is how it always is. The rest of us protect that life, both animal and green things.”

  “Oh Faarin’s bloody corpse,” Zaree breathed. “Your mother is the Maker.”

  “I do not know,” Yldost admitted, looking discomfited. “She makes things. But so do her daughters.”

  “Jorget!” Zaree bellowed. “Get in here!”

  When there was no response, Zaree looked down at Daro, who had been listening at her feet. “Daro, go find him. Tell him what Yldost told us. We need him here.”

  The wolf stood and gave her a nod before sniffing the air and running out of the room without a word.

  “I do not understand,” Yldost said. “Why is this important?”

  “It might not be important to our current situation,” Zaree said. “But, Yldost. You’ve just confirmed that your mother is the Maker, our creator. That’s no small thing.”

  “It’s something people have tried to discover since the beginning of time,” Firea interjected. “If your mother is the Goddess Maker—”

  There was a thumping of footsteps down the stairs in the nearby hall, interrupted by a loud thud. “Ow.”

  “Are you okay?” Zaree called out to Jorget.

  “No, I’m pretty sure I’m about to have a nervous breakdown,” Jorget answered, though they could hear him getting up and heading for the kitchen. He stepped into the room and stared at Yldost for a moment before he pointed at them. “Do you know what this means?”

  “No?” Yldost answered, looking warily at the finger Jorget had shoved in their general direction.

  “It means there’s a god sitting on our kitchen table,” Jorget practically yelled in response. “If you’re a god shouldn’t you be able to wake Tasis up?”

  The little dragon let out a snort and moved closer to Zaree, as if seeking protection. “There are rules. Rules that cannot be broken without dire consequences.”

  “Rules?” Zaree asked, rubbing them under the chin before glaring at Jorget for making them uncomfortable. At least he had the good sense to look abashed at his own behavior. “What kind of rules? Like that one Triv’s talked about?” The name was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t remember.

  “You mean Qelmar’s Rule?” Jorget asked in a normal tone as he took a seat at the table.

  Yldost perked up and looked at Jorget, inching closer to him. “Is it still called such?”

  “If you mean that thing about not killing people if you don’t want to die in return, then yeah,” Zaree said. “Why?”

  Yldost made a happy little noise, their feathers fluffing in a way Zaree had come to understand signified pride, joy, or a combination of the two. “Qelmar is the void. He who provides the canvas for our mother, his mate, to create life.”

  Jorget rubbed at his face. “Qelmar is your father’s name.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes,” Yldost confirmed, sounding a little confused. “Why?”

  “Of course,” Jorget muttered into his hands as he rested his face against his palms, his elbows propped atop the table. “Of course a rule like that’s going to come from the Maker’s eternal mate.”

  Yldost looked up at Zaree. “Is he all right?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Zaree reassured them. “He’s just having his entire concept of everything turned upside down. He’ll come to terms with it.”

  Firea, who had been observing, cleared her throat. All three looked at her at once, but her eyes were focused on the small dragon—the god, for Maker’s sake—who sat on their kitchen table. “Why did your father make that rule, love?”

  Yldost trilled happily again, apparently pleased with the endearment. They practically bounced past Zaree to nuzzle Firea’s hand. “To prevent war,” they explained as they continued to rub their face against Firea’s hand like a contented kitten. “He has tried many things to prevent his brother from destroying the worlds our mother creates. The rules from our elders may not be broken without dire consequences, even by other elders. Father hoped the thought of dying again would deter Gisik at least somewhat, because his death is always painful.” They let out a snort of disgust and shook their head, the crest of feathers down the back of their neck waving as they did. “But Gisik is beyond reason now. His existence has become only about stealing our mother from his brother and punishing those who would not allow it to happen. He kills our sisters and sends our parents into despair as yet another of our mother’s worlds falls prey to war and carelessness. Those she creates forget about us and take advantage of her gifts to them, ruining them in the name of greed. Her own creations kill the home they were given and kill themselves in the process. I have heard many stories.”

  Zaree blinked. “That sounds….�
��

  “Lonely,” Firea supplied. “How heartbreaking for your mother.”

  “I agree,” Jorget said, startling Zaree a little. He’d been so quiet as he listened to Yldost that she hadn’t expected him to say anything. “Though I’ll admit I feel a little odd saying that about the creator of all things.”

  “She’s a mother,” Firea told him, her chin lifted with a hint of defiance. “Certainly, a mother on a grander scale than I can even comprehend, but a mother nonetheless. Goodness knows I remember what it was like, raising my own brother when we had no parents left to do so. I was heartbroken when he walked away, but even more so when I heard he was dead and we would never again speak, even if it were only to bicker. What must the Maker feel, losing entire worlds of her children?”

  Yldost placed one of their diminutive claws atop Firea’s hand and looked up at her adoringly. “Mother would like you. You understand. I hope you meet her someday.”

  “Don’t we all meet her someday?” Jorget asked wryly.

  Yldost gave him a confused look. “I do not understand.”

  “He’s talking about death,” Zaree told them. “The assumption is that your mother would also handle death.”

  Yldost gave a small snort. “Oh, no. Mother creates. Her twin guides the creations to the next life with love and compassion when the time comes.”

  “What does happen after we die?” Jorget asked.

  The dragon looked at him, head cocked to the side, one eye ridge raised in what could only be amusement. “I’m sorry, but you will have to wait and find out for yourself.”

  “Another rule?” Zaree guessed as Jorget muttered something about the unfairness of it all.

  “Of course,” Yldost said. “If you knew what awaited you, it would spoil all of my aunt’s fun.”

  “You know, I’ve noticed that your family has an odd definition of the word fun,” Jorget pointed out grumpily.

  Yldost snickered as they moved back to their plate and took another bite of their breakfast. “No,” they finally said. “I’m quite certain it’s you. Because it’s very likely that dragons invented fun.”

  “Not necessarily,” Firea said with more than a hint of amusement. “Who came before dragons?”

  Yldost tilted their head. “I do not understand.”

  “Your mother may have created us,” Firea pointed out, “but who created your mother?”

  The little dragon’s eyes went wide, and they made a noise that sounded a bit distressed. “She has always been. As has our father.” Yldost wrung their claws and gave Zaree a look of panic. “Haven’t they?”

  “Firea, stop,” Zaree said softly as she reached across the table, picked up Yldost, and cradled them close. “I don’t think they’re equipped to deal with that line of thought.” At least not at that moment. Yldost had healed quite well, but they still had tics in their behavior that spoke of the unfathomably long time spent in captivity.

  Firea immediately looked contrite, stroking Yldost’s feathers until the dragon’s anxious quivering stopped. “I’m sorry, love. I forget that I can’t argue with you like I do with Vashk. It’s okay.”

  “It’s a good question, though,” Jorget said. Zaree opened her mouth to growl at him to change the subject, but Jorget glanced at Yldost and shook his head. “Remind me to bring it up to Vashk sometime in the future.”

  “I’ll do that,” Zaree promised as she rubbed Yldost under the chin. They’d brightened some, but they were still clinging to her shirt and showing no sign of being ready to go back to eating. She looked them over, her brow furrowed in thought, until they returned the stare. “Do you need to bite one of us?” she finally asked. “It just occurred to me that Kelwin probably hasn’t had the brainpower to remember he’s currently part of your diet.”

  The dragon’s muzzle wrinkled in an obvious display of disgust, and they shook their head before loosening their grip and returning to their breakfast. “It no longer tastes good.”

  “Their body’s way of telling them the blood isn’t needed anymore, maybe,” Jorget mused quietly. “Interesting.”

  “We can think on it later,” Zaree told him. “For now, I plan to finish my breakfast before having a nice long chat with Vashk and the others. It’s time we got some answers.”

  Chapter 2

  VASHK WAS waiting for them when they made their way into the cavernous dock, and Zaree, with Yldost riding on her shoulder, couldn’t help but wonder just how much the water dragon knew. She respected and trusted him, certainly, but she didn’t kid herself. He was hiding something from them. Multiple somethings, likely, and all of them important.

  Yldost leaped from her shoulder and would have landed on the ground in a small heap if Zaree hadn’t caught them. Clearly the dragon wasn’t used to not having all of their feathers in place. Instead, Zaree very gently set Yldost on their brother’s snout, which was likely the place Yldost had been aiming for in the first place. They gave Zaree a grateful chirrup before turning their attention to their sibling. “Vashk. Seri na.”

  “Seri na,” Vashk replied, his clear voice rolling through the grotto. “Diisen var?”

  “If you would speak a language we could understand, it would be appreciated,” Zaree said, catching Jorget’s nod from the corner of her eye.

  “Seri na is a greeting between family members,” Vashk told her. “There isn’t really a translation for it, but it signifies family ties as well as affection. You would use it when greeting Tasis, but not when greeting Sireti.”

  Zaree tilted her head slightly to one side without thinking about it, and groaned inwardly when she realized what she’d done. She’d been spending far too much time with Yldost if she was picking up their mannerisms. “I wouldn’t use it with Sireti even though he’s blood family?”

  “You dislike him,” Yldost piped up. “Seri na is for loved ones. And blood does not make families.”

  Well, the little feathered dragon had certainly spoken volumes of truth in that one sentence. Zaree had learned long ago that blood meant nothing. “Vashk, we have something we need to discuss.”

  “No, no,” Yldost said, fairly hopping in place. Zaree was glad Vashk’s hide was so thick, or Yldost’s talons would certainly have left scratches on the water dragon’s muzzle. “Me first. I tire of being so… small.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” Vashk asked his sibling, nearly crossing his enormous eyes to get a look at Yldost. “There would be no shame in waiting if you do not think it’s the proper time.”

  “I am sure,” Yldost answered, hopping off Vashk’s nose and onto the wood of the dock. “It is growing tiresome to keep myself in check.”

  Vashk gave a nod of understanding. “Proceed, then. But promise me you’ll stop if it becomes necessary.”

  Yldost lifted their head proudly and gave a haughty sniff. “I know how it is done, brother. I am not so old that I’ve forgotten.”

  Zaree gave Jorget a confused look, but Jorget merely shrugged. Zaree rolled her eyes in response and went back to staring at Yldost, wondering what she should be watching for. In mere moments, the answer was given, and she gasped as Yldost’s form seemed to contort, stretching in odd ways as it grew. She started for the dragon, but Jorget put a hand on her shoulder, stopping the movement.

  It looked… painful. That was the only word Zaree could bring to mind that even began to describe the seething, rapidly expanding mass of flesh and feathers that had at one point been the tiny dragon they had all doted on. The grinding and popping of what was probably the dragon’s bones made her want to weep, but Jorget held her fast, not letting her run to provide the comfort her instincts were telling her Yldost needed. Vashk, for his part, surveyed the scene with an unnatural calmness. Clearly this hadn’t been unexpected for him, and Zaree wished they’d been given a little warning.

  As whatever Yldost was turning into continued to grow, Zaree began to worry about the strength of the wood underneath their feet. She turned her head enough to get a good look at Jorget�
��s face. “Do you think we should move back?”

  “That shouldn’t be necessary,” Vashk said, his voice as calm as his appearance. “They’re nearly full-size now. Yldost was never a very large dragon.”

  If the thing in front of them was what Vashk considered not very large, Zaree would hate to see what he considered an enormous dragon. Granted, Yldost was probably less than half the size of their sibling’s enormous head, and perhaps not as large as they’d been depicted in the mural, but Zaree was quite certain they were at least larger than the gryphon they’d run into on the giants’ mountain. Thinking of the gryphon reminded Zaree of the feather she’d been gifted, and she made a mental note to ask Vashk about it once she was certain Yldost was okay. The gryphon had to have given her the feather for a reason, but she had no idea what it could be. Maybe the old dragon would know.

  She heard Jorget suck in a startled breath and brought herself back to reality in time to see Yldost spread their massive, feathered wings. The feathers that had been in the process of growing back were still only half-grown, their increase in size only succeeding in making Yldost look even more like some sort of bizarre hedgehog. But putting that aside, Yldost was one of the most beautiful things Zaree had seen in a long time. Despite the fact they were in a grotto, away from any direct sun, the blue and white of their feathers shone, a testament to the remarkable improvement of the dragon’s health. No one who saw them now would ever guess Yldost had been at death’s door so recently. The dragon stretched their long neck, craning it around to look at Zaree and Jorget, who simply stared back in shock. “See? Much better.”

  “I was hopeful it would speed the growth of your feathers as well,” Vashk said. “Ah well, at least you can still get around better at this size, and if it didn’t hurt for you to change your size, it also shouldn’t hurt you if you change your form.”