Dragon Mage Academy

by Cordelia Castel

  Master Fosco placed a hand over his heart. “We all owe him the greatest debt of thanks… May I present our savior, His Royal Highness, King Magnar!”

  Angry, prickly heat bloomed across my face. “What?”

  “Huh?” said Stafford.

  This time, the applause was thunderous. Roars and cheers and the stamping of dragon paws made my ears ring. The noise shook my entire being and made my stomach churn.

  “I don’t understand,” said Fyrian. “Was he only pretending to be the alchemists’ prisoner?”

  I clenched my teeth. “It looks like King Magnar took the credit for fighting the alchemists.”

  Fyrian paused. In a small voice, she said, “But he did stab Mr. Bacon with your parched sword.”

  I didn’t reply. The elixir was forcing her to twist her memories around to make King Magnar the hero.

  King Magnar strolled across the royal box with his arms raised in some kind of victory pose. I curled my lip. Master Jesper, Evolene, Stafford, Niger, and I had toiled through the night, collecting ingredients, fighting homunculi, and making the elixir. This wretched brat had spent the entire time sitting on a chair in a hut and was taking credit. The worst part was that no one would believe me.

  “Everybody, settle down!” bellowed Master Fosco.

  The applause and cheers faded into excited murmurs.

  King Magnar held a speaking horn to his lips. “Thank you, Mount Fornax, for the warm welcome! And thank you, Master Fosco for your warm words, but I am no hero!”

  I sat straighter, pulse throbbing.

  “Is he going to call you up?” asked Stafford.

  “Who knows?” I replied.

  “No,” King Magnar continued. “The real heroes are you: the dragons and warriors!”

  I sagged against Fyrian’s neck as the entire arena went wild with cheers and applause. King Magnar hadn’t directly said he had saved everyone, but he was still lying by letting everyone think he was the hero.

  “Now,” he said, “the leaders of the Council of Dragons have committed themselves to freeing the Savannah Empire from the clutches of my enemies. But they are but four dragons, and our enemies are numerous. We need more loyal and fearless dragons. Who will join me in battle?”

  I clapped my hands over my mouth. “He wants the dragons to fight the spriggans!”

  All around us, dragons launched themselves off their perches and flew up into the skies. I stared up, mind blank, face frozen at the display. Did the dragons even know they had volunteered to fight against spriggans?

  “E-everyone knows the story about the fight at the border,” said Fyrian.

  It took a while to get everyone to calm down and retake their seats. When silence spread through the arena, Master Fosco returned to the podium, holding aloft a golden crown. “Mount Fornax is no longer an independent city-state. From this moment forward, it is a territory of the Savannah Empire, ruled by the Great King Magnar!”

  My mouth dropped open.

  Fyrian was kind enough to share her vision with me. Master Fosco placed the crown on King Magnar’s beaming head.

  Then King Magnar picked up the speaking horn. “Thank you for the honor. I have one thing left to announce: An opportunity for one brave warrior to become the Savannah Sky Commander. You will act as my champion and closest confidant. If you wish to compete for the honor, submit your name in the reception for consideration.”

  About two-dozen dragons launched themselves into the air and flew in the direction of the mountain. I assumed their riders wanted to compete to become King Magnar’s champion. My eyes unfocused, and my breath came in shallow pants. This was exactly the situation I had dreaded, and now it was coming true. From what little I had seen of dark fairy artifacts, the dragons would never triumph against the spriggans who had once been their jailers.

  Stafford placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me a gentle shake. “We had better tell Master Jesper.”

  I nodded. “Fyri, can you take us back?”

  “Are you going to apply to become Magnar’s champion?” she asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “Do you think I’m a coward for thinking we need sleeping dragons to fight the spriggans?”

  “You’re sensible. I doubt that King Magnar even has a plan for defeating them.”

  “But I feel like I’m letting him down. One blast of my flames should be able to kill them.”

  I patted her on the side of the neck. “Believe me, you’re not. They’ve had centuries to work out ways to outsmart dragons. Come on, let’s go.”

  She leaped off the platform and spread her wings. Everyone else seemed to want to wait around to hear more words of wisdom from their new King. Bile rose to the back of my throat. I had imagined him persuading a group of dragons to join his cause, but I’d never imagined he would steal Mount Fornax out from under the dragons.

  “Wow… I can’t believe it,” muttered Stafford. “He’s our ruler now? What about Auntie Rilla?”

  I shook my head. All my words died in my throat. If Master Jesper couldn’t produce the antidote, King Magnar would lead the dragons into a trap, and the spriggans would force them to release the Forgotten King. I shuddered at the thought of the monstrous baby-headed warrior who had captured Fogo and Fyrian at the border.

  “Stop thinking about him,” said Fyrian.

  “Sorry.”

  I put more effort into picturing clouds covering the moon and recalled the incident at the border. The spriggan and King Magnar’s soldiers had shot fireworks at us that created a dragon-proof, magic-absorbing net that blocked a purple dragon’s teleportation. How many other tricks did the spriggans have? As I reminded Fyrian, the one we’d met had boasted about spending the past few centuries formulating ways to control dragons.

  After passing the Great Lake, Fyrian swooped down on the lawn in front of the Healer’s Academy. Stafford and I rushed through the empty hallways, passing wards of slumbering witches. Everyone was probably still at King Magnar’s unexpected coronation. We bounded down the stairs and flung open the door.

  “Master Jesper!”

  The troll straightened from where it bent over Mr. Bacon’s covered form. “Cadets Perrault and Bluford. Whatever is the matter?”

  “You’ll never guess,” cried Stafford. “Master Fosco just declared Mount Fornax a territory of the Savannah Empire with King Magnar as its ruler.”

  Master Jesper tapped its lip. “What an interesting turn of events.”

  I snarled. Didn’t the troll understand? Yesterday, it was lamenting that the situation was its fault and promising to fix things, and now it acted as though current calamities weren’t matters that required our urgent attention. I crossed the room, hands shaking with the urge to shake Master Jesper by the cloak.

  “Can’t you see?” I said in my calmest voice. “He’s recruiting dragons to reclaim his kingdom, but the Savannah empire is riddled with spriggans!”

  Stafford waved his arms. “They’ll capture all the dragons!”

  Master Jesper furrowed its brow. “Are you sure of this?”

  “Yes. They need dragons to free their master.”

  Master Jesper shook its head and bustled to the table, where a flask bubbled over an open flame. It picked up a pencil-sized staff from a rack and levitated the contents of the flask to a small cauldron. “Thank you for keeping me informed, but I have orders to modify my antidote for the witches.”

  “Wait!” I cried. “What about the dragons? Because of your assistant’s loyalty elixir, they’ve handed everything they own to King Magnar and are about to sacrifice their freedom.”

  “I’m no closer to creating an antidote than I was a few days ago.”

  “Have you tried asking Mr. Bacon again?”

  “I was about to administer a sleeping elixir, but we can wake him and check on his memory,” replied Master Jesper.

  Stafford and I walked around the large table to the cot where Mr. Bacon lay. Someone had covered him in white bandages, which was a
lot less gruesome than the black sheet. I glanced at General Thornicroft who slept on the other side of the room, still in his healing coma.

  “How long will the General last like that?” I asked.

  “As long as my magic holds, he should be good for another few days.”

  I gulped. “Will you be able to revive the witches by then?”

  Master Jesper sighed. “I do hope so. Madam Evolene experimented with different quantities of elements. If we had a purer source of gold than King Midas pears, we might produce a stronger elixir, but—”

  “What about gold crowns?”

  “I beg your pardon?” asked the troll.

  “If I gave you gold crowns, would that help?”

  Master Jesper rubbed its head. “No. The spells on the currency come from the royal mint, making the metal impossible to melt.”

  Stafford patted me on the shoulder. “It was worth a try.”

  Master Jesper pointed its miniature staff in the center Mr. Bacon’s forehead. The human gasped, and his eyes snapped open, revealing two silver orbs.

  “Are those prosthetics?” I asked.

  “Medicine balls. It’s the most effective way to keep him in a constant supply of healing elixirs.”

  “Right.” I gestured at the prone alchemist. “Ask him.”

  Mr. Bacon groaned. “Jesper?”

  “I’m here, Henri.” Master Jesper knelt at his assistant’s bedside and held his hand. “Is your memory any clearer?”

  “We are supposed to go to Steppe in few days.”

  My heart flipped, and I nudged Stafford in the arm. If he’d only lost a week of memory, then he would already know about the elixir.

  “We are in Steppe now, my friend. Your plan to recruit the dragons backfired, and now it looks like they will be handed to the spriggans in a futile war.”

  Mr. Bacon jerked forward. “No! That cannot happen. The dragons are the key to defeating the spriggans… and the boy.”

  I wrinkled my nose. Perhaps he meant to say that King Magnar had some information on the spriggans’ weaknesses.

  “Well, thanks to your loyalty elixir, young King Magnar has taken rulership of the dragons and is about to lead them into Savannah.”

  Mr. Bacon groaned. “And the boy?”

  “To which boy do you refer?” asked Master Jesper.

  “Queen Cendrilla’s… the one rumored to be a cadet here. His power is the key.”

  My throat dried. Mr. Bacon was referring to me. I had to know why he thought I was the key to defeating the spriggans and if that was why he had tried to take my life-force and magic.

  Master Jesper raised its hand. “Time is running out. We need to undo the loyalty elixir, but the librarian has absconded with its formula. What do you remember of its ingredients?”

  “Quicksilver, lapis solaris, parched earth, liquid aether, dragon venom, aqua fortis, heart salts, sweet vitriol, fulminating silver, wolfram… distilled gold.”

  Master Jesper glanced at the leather book. “Your loyalty elixir has twelve items, and you have only mentioned eleven. What is the last ingredient?”

  “I… I cannot remember,” Mr. Bacon whispered. “B-but the librarian’s brother is the lighthouse keeper in Westeport. Maybe he can tell you.”

  My hands curled into fists. “If you want us to help Savannah and your precious King Calder, you’d better speak up!”

  Mr. Bacon didn’t respond.

  Master Jesper shook its head. “In another day, he might remember.”

  I stepped back. “It might be too late by then!”

  “Remember, Mount Fornax is still under quarantine. No one will get in or out of the wards without the authorization of the Magical Militia.”

  “Jesper doesn’t know about the tunnel, does it?” asked Fyrian.

  “We can use it to send a note.” I turned to Mr. Bacon. “Could you write a letter to the librarian’s brother explaining what’s happened, and ask him for the final ingredient?”

  “O-of course.”

  While Master Jesper guided its assistant to write the letter, I penned my own letter to Oliveri, the palace butler. Of all the people I knew, he would be best placed to direct my plea for help.

  “Have you seen any dragonets around?” I asked.

  Stafford lifted his head from a scroll. “Dragonets won’t get through the wards.”

  “They will if we direct them through the Dead Wood.”

  “It’s no use,” said Fyrian. “They’re all still resting from the plague.”

  My shoulders sagged. “The only other way to get help is by traveling to the capital ourselves.”

  “How long will that take by land?” asked Stafford.

  “That depends on if we can find a fast horse and if we don’t get attacked by wild animals or bandits on the way.”

  Stafford fell silent. Everyone knew it was a gamble to travel through the drylands in a pair. Even full-blooded ogres didn’t take the risk. With our mage weapons, we might stand a chance, but I hadn’t yet tested my bond with Fyrian over a long distance.

  He scratched at his temple. “Could you get a rapier red to sneak down into the tunnel?”

  I shook my head. “They’re too big, and they might tell someone what we’re doing.”

  “Right. You-know-who might think you’re trying to escape your obligation.”

  “As if I could,” I muttered.

  “I’ll take you to the Dead Wood.” Fyrian sent an image of herself landing on the lawn outside the Healer’s Academy building. “If there’s a way to defeat the spriggans without having to wake the sleeping dragons, we should try that first.”

  “Actually, could you take us to the alchemists’ wagons instead? I have a better idea, but I need to speak to the glacier wolves, first.”

  Chapter 9

  Armed with two scrolls, Stafford and I flew on Fyrian’s back over the terraces and to the east, where the alchemists had parked their wagons. Bright rays of afternoon sun streamed through the gaps in the clouds, making patches of greenery below us shine like emeralds. We needed to persuade a glacier wolf to help us deliver our mail. They were fast, intelligent, and ferocious enough to scare away even the most hardened of bandits.

  Fyrian swooped down to a meadow and landed close to the patch where the wolves lounged. Their brilliant, white fur made a stark contrast to the burst of yellow and reds of the wildflowers growing within the grass. One of the wolves raised its head for a second and lowered it, as though not seeing us as a threat.

  Beyond the pack, a wolf ran around a grove of trees. Its tongue lolled out of the side of its mouth, and it seemed to chase an invisible friend. Every so often, the creature would glance up into the branches where a small, violet figure would dart to another tree.

  I squinted. “It’s the dragonet who got turned into a cat!”

  “Where?” Stafford placed his hand over his brow.

  I pointed at the trees. “There. In the branches.”

  After a moment, Stafford chuckled.

  “Does it have a name?” I asked Fyrian.

  “We don’t get a name or gender until we’ve left the dragonet stage,” said Fyrian.

  “I didn’t know that.”

  She gave me a mental shrug. “With all that’s happened, classes have been disrupted quite a bit since the beginning of term. It’s not surprising you lot are all behind.”

  We slid down off her back and stood in the thigh-high meadow. So far, none of the wolves raised their heads. I wasn’t expecting trouble, as I’d told them days before that we were friends of Master Jesper.

  “I’ll stare them down, so they’ll know not to mess with you,” said Fyrian.

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you sure about this?” whispered Stafford. “It’s one thing to ask them to pull a carriage. They might take offense at being ridden like horses.”

  “They can always say no,” I whispered back. “Besides, Fyri’s watching out for us. Don’t worry.”

  “She can’t watch us
when we’re underground or outside the wards,” he muttered.

  I raised my palms to eye level and set them alight. “We’re not exactly without defenses. And we’ve got swords.”

  Stafford stood straighter. “All right. Who do we speak to?”

  One of the wolves raised its head and sat on its haunches. It was the one who had growled at us last time.

  “That’s probably the alpha,” said Fyrian. “He has a stronger scent than the others.”

  I nodded. “Right.”

  With a burst of sound and movement, the violet cat flew down from the trees, making a strange chittering purr. Half the wolves raised their heads to watch the cat, and the other half kept their gazes on the stare-down between their alpha and me.

  I cleared my throat. “Remember us? We’re friends of Master Jesper… and, er… we need transportation through the Dead Wood and out of the wards.”

  For a moment, the alpha didn’t move. I wondered if he was too busy imagining us as lumps of tasty meat.

  “Master Jesper gave us lupine pellets,” said Stafford.

  The alpha’s ears pricked up, and he raised himself off his haunches.

  My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. It might have been my imagination, but the sunlight around us dimmed. The alpha stood over six-and-a-half-feet tall, with fur the white of candle flames. With the most deliberate of movements, he stalked toward us, never taking his gaze off mine. Every bone in my ribcage rattled with the pounding of my heart, but I stood strong. Even though in all the time we’d been standing in front of him, the alpha wolf had never once looked at Fyrian.

  “He knows I’m here,” she said.

  I didn’t dare avert my gaze to check on Stafford in case the alpha took that moment to pounce.

  Claws landed on my shoulder, followed by a mass of purring fur. I couldn’t help but jump. “Oh!”

  The alpha paused.

  “He thinks I’m going to flame him,” said Fyrian.

  “It’s all right,” I said to the wolf. “I was startled by the cat. Please come closer.”

  Moments later, the alpha wolf crossed the meadow and sat in front of us.

  I told the wolf where we needed to go, explaining that we believed the librarian had taken the twelfth wolf out of the wards via that route. The alpha seemed to follow everything I said, and I tried not to speculate on whether Master Jesper had trapped the spirits of the witches whose magic he had drained into the wolves. “Will you be able to take us both?”