She's All Thaumaturgy

by A. K. Caggiano

  “Queen?” There was no way she’d overheard Quilliam when they were dancing. “What do you—wait, what do you mean Frederick is in for a win? What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t have to pretend; I’m not going to say anything.” Vyvyan leaned in. “I know about the bet. Voss told me. Frankly, I think it’s genius.”

  “Bet?” Elayne looked out into the ballroom, finding Frederick across the way with Voss and the other knights as well as Rosalind.

  “You know, to make the ugliest girl at court queen? I can’t believe he took it, a real long shot there—no offense—but it paid off, I guess!”

  “I don’t…” Elayne felt her head spin as she looked down into the cup in her hands. Her reflection in the wine was distorted and strange.

  “Now Fred’s getting that land he always needed to legitimize his title, and you get to be all pretty and queen. I’m so impressed.”

  “Land? Title?” Elayne snapped her head back up.

  “Yeah, Voss wagered all his land, so now Frederick won’t just be some nameless bastard who the prince knighted. You know Fred’s always wanted to be somebody.” She bit her lip and looked over at the knight sidelong. “I guess that makes him a little more appealing, and since somebody took my spot.” She flashed her eyes at Elayne then laughed again. “I’m just kidding!”

  Elayne steadied herself on the table with a shaking hand. “It was a bet?” she whispered to herself. “After all that? A bet?”

  “Wait.” Vyvyan’s voice was far off as Elayne’s mind raced. “Don’t tell me…did you really not know?”

  Elayne placed the full cup back on the table, her eyes looking out across the floor and to where Frederick stood again. The knights were talking around him, but he looked up then too and their eyes met. Vyvyan’s voice faded away as blood rushed past Elayne’s ears. He smiled at her. That asshole was actually smiling.

  Elayne set off across the floor, pushing through the dancers and to the other side, never taking her eyes off the knight. She stumbled over the hem of her dress just as she got there, and he reached out to catch her, but she ripped her hands away from him. “Was I a bet?” she mumbled, righting herself.

  “What?”

  “A bet!” she shouted, and the other knights quieted.

  Frederick stared back at her. Then his eyes flicked over her shoulder. Elayne looked back to see Vyvyan had followed, her arms crossed, smirking at them.

  She whipped back to him, lowering her voice and hissing, “You bet your stupid friends that you could turn the ugliest girl at court into the queen?”

  He glanced nervously at his friends, and Voss shrugged. Rosalind’s jaw dropped open.

  “Oh my gods, you did.” Elayne was barely whispering now. “Of course you did. Why else would you have ever even talked to me? I can’t believe it…I was right.”

  “Elly, it’s not like that.” He reached out again to take her hand, but she pulled away.

  “Then how in the godless gorge is it?” she snapped. “I thought you, I don’t know…cared or something, but you just wanted some land and a better title. And now Quilliam wants to—” She gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. He hadn’t just helped her, he’d practically sold her off. “Why did I ever trust you?”

  “Wait!” Rosalind huffed, turning to the others. “There has to be an explanation.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” she hissed at her friend. “The only explanation is that they’re all assholes. They always were and they always will be.”

  “But…” Rosalind’s voice was wavering. “They said…they said they would petition the king.”

  “To make you a knight?” Elayne scoffed. “Is that what you told her? Another lie?” She stared hard from Voss to Legosen to the Sarvius twins. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Frederick.

  “It is not a lie,” Legosen said stoically. “I intend to—”

  “Oh, please, you’re not going to do anything for her.” Heat was building in Elayne’s chest. She didn’t care anymore, talking to them, yelling at them, it was all pointless. They might never change, but she certainly didn’t have to stay the same.

  “Why not?” Rosalind’s voice cracked. “Why is it so crazy to think they would at least try? El, I just think—”

  “No, you don’t,” Elayne spat back. “You don’t think, Ro. Come on, let’s just go.” She turned and glared at Vyvyan who stood in her way.

  “No.” The cut of Rosalind’s word made her look back. Rosalind’s eyes were misty, her hands balled into fists. She looked like she was about to cry. “I’m not stupid, Elayne.”

  “I didn’t mean…” The duchess glanced at the others. They tried hard not to catch her eye, busying themselves with their drinks.

  “Gods,” Vyvyan chuckled from behind her. “You really are mean, huh?”

  CHAPTER 38

  Elayne was able to run, but not far or fast in the gown and shoes. She escaped the ballroom into the courtyard, past Wren and Tavaris and the children, and out into the night. Cool air rushed at her, taking the heat out of her face, but unable to quell the overwhelming embarrassment. It had all been a trick—she knew it the moment that pompous asshole had approached her weeks before—but she’d let herself believe in the lie she wanted to believe.

  And she’d let herself believe it was something even more. When he agreed to travel beyond the Trizian Wood, when he battled trolls, when he took a dagger to the heart, was it all for glory? Personal gain? She didn’t want to marry Quilliam, to be stuck here in Yavarid—she wanted to go home, to serve Heulux, and he knew all that, but he still let her return. And he hadn’t even warned her.

  Elayne felt a vibration down in her chest, like her very heart was going to give itself up. She squeezed her fists and eyes shut; now was not the time to mark herself a monster and release the aether in the horrifying way she knew how. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but then it came again only worse. She felt it under her feet, in the ground itself, and she popped her eyes open. It wasn’t her.

  There was a crash, distant but loud, and she looked up into the sky. It was black but pricked with the light of the stars and a full moon. North of the castle a shadow rose up, even darker than the rest of the sky, unfurling wings as the treetops splintered all around it. It was small, but it was also far. So far it might be out over the Trizian Wood. And it was headed right for the castle.

  Elayne could hear the others spilling out of the ballroom behind her, but she couldn’t look away from the shape that was flying toward them. If one had only ever seen a bird in the sky, then it was like a bird, but everyone assembled had now seen a dragon, and the shape that was approaching was not unlike a dragon. But Elayne could not just see it, she could feel it. He was coming. Alaion.

  Courtiers were screaming and scattering. The ring of metal as swords were unsheathed and the creaking of bowstrings as marksmen took their places flooded the courtyard.

  “How?” Tavaris was suddenly at her side. Of course, he could feel it too. The boy squeezed a fist. “I thought he was…”

  Elayne tripped over her words, saying she didn’t know. He’d fallen, no—been flicked into the nexus, and Forsyth had been pulled in too. But the thing that was just about to reach them was too big to be Forsyth carrying the bulk that was Alaion on its back.

  The figure landed on the far wall of Yavarid Castle looking out over the courtyard. It was still a shadow, sitting cat-like, shoulders raised as if to pounce, its massive, leathery wings folding in behind it. A call came from somewhere amongst the line of archers that had assembled at her side, and their arrows were loosed on the beast. They would hit, sailing together in a tight group, but then there was a flicker of light. Just the smallest spark at first, and then it engulfed the darkness around it, exploding into a ball of fire that burned the arrows mid-flight. Some fell from the sky straight down, still alight as they plunged into the dirt, most disintegrated into ash immediately, but none hit its target.

  As the flames died
away, Elayne could see the beast’s face more clearly. It was a dragon, yes, but it was also, somehow, an elf.

  “Dad?” Tavaris took a ragged breath, and Elayne felt her stomach turn. Alaion was not on this creature’s back, Alaion was this creature. With long, pointed ears and eyes that had the round, grey pupils of an elf, the facial features were almost human save for the long jaws full of fangs, but it had the body of a beast, with wings and a tail, covered with a patchwork of scales over mottled, greying skin. And apparently it could breathe fire.

  Their own dragon had crawled up beside them, and Elayne glanced up at him. Wren’s eyes were baleful, and it let out a little cough. A plume of brimstoney smoke escaped his snout. “You’re going to have to do better than that,” she told him, and he whimpered back.

  Alaion’s new form took the sky again, and the air filled with the screams of the courtiers who had been brave enough to remain outside. He swept upward and disappeared into the darkness as he rounded the castle.

  “Shit!” Elayne swung around, trying to follow the beast as it went but losing it behind the spires of the castle.

  “El!” Rosalind ran straight into her.

  “Ro!” Never had she been happier to see her friend, and she threw her arms around her, the words tumbling out, “I’m so sorry! You’re not stupid, you’ll be a knight, I didn’t mean it, I—”

  “I know, I know. Are you okay?” Rosalind held her at arm’s length to check. “People are screaming about a monster out here. What’s going on?”

  Elayne could only point skyward as Alaion’s form showed itself on the other side of the spires. He glowed an angry orange in the belly, illuminating his form against the dark sky so that the veins that crawled all over his skin and scales could be seen.

  Rosalind grabbed her staff from where it was secured on her back. “What is that?”

  Tavaris groaned. “That’s my dad. He’s mad.”

  “What? He’s supposed to be dead!” She flashed wide eyes at the boy. “Sorry, but…ya know.”

  “He fell in with Forsyth and the thaumat stone.” Elayne watched as the amalgam came closer. “He already knew how to corrupt the nexus, but I never would have guessed he could do this. That he could become a dragon himself.”

  “I know I said I wanted to see a dragon,” Rosalind’s voice jumped, “But one was definitely enough.”

  Alaion swooped down over them, opening his jaws. They ducked, feeling the wind off his wings and the heat from his throat, but no fire came. Another string of arrows was loosed, but he spun away from the worst of it, taking only a few shots that bounced off the scales of his back.

  “Why didn’t he burn us?” Bix appeared in the center of them.

  “I don’t think he can.” Elayne stood straight, watching him flap his wings and head for the far wall once again. The glow in his stomach was still dim but getting brighter. “Not yet anyway.”

  “Elayne!” Frederick ran toward them, relief on his face as he pushed past the archers. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head, her heart breaking into song at seeing his face despite swearing him off moments earlier.

  “What in all of Maw have you brought back this time?” Voss was almost laughing as he drew his sword, running out just on Frederick’s heel. Behind him, Legosen was screwing up his face as he eyed the creature, and the Sarvius twins were practically skipping with delight.

  Elayne swallowed. “Elven-dragon hybrid infused with chaotic aether from the Heuluxian nexus. Also we recently killed him—or tried to—so he’s probably really mad about that.” She frowned. “And he’s a racist.”

  “Perfect.” Voss smirked and strode on past them. Legosen followed and the twins broke into a run. Frederick unsheathed his own sword, and it alighted with a green flame.

  “Wait!” Elayne grabbed his arm before he could run off. He turned back. “Don’t…die. Please?”

  “I don’t plan on it. Promise.” He grinned from the side of his mouth, and she had the urge to pull him in close to prove she meant it. He returned the look as if to say he might do the same.

  “Best be quick if you want some action!” Voss shouted back to him as he swung his sword overhead. “I plan to cut this thing down with or without you!”

  She released Frederick and nodded, and he bolted after the others.

  “He’ll burn them all alive,” Tavaris croaked. “They don’t stand a chance.”

  “They’re the best knights in Yavarid,” Rosalind said. “That’s got to mean something.”

  Tavaris swallowed. “No. I have to do this. I have to stop him.” He turned to Wren and placed a hand on either side of his snout. “We can do this. Together.”

  Wren went to nuzzle the boy but knocked him to the ground instead.

  “Oh, geez.” Elayne slapped her forehead.

  “I’ll go with you!” Bix scurried up onto Wren’s back with Tavaris, and they took to the sky.

  Elayne stood in the center of the courtyard with Rosalind. She reached out and took her friend’s hand. Rosalind squeezed back. “What do we do?”

  Rosalind shrugged. “We kill the bad guy.”

  As they ran toward the fray, Alaion took to the sky again. Before the knights could reach him, he hovered over where they had grouped together. The light in his gut had brightened. Elayne screamed, but she knew it would do no good, the fire was coming, and it would be the end of all of them.

  Alaion opened his jaws, flames already licking at the fangs. And then Wren dove from the sky and expertly twisted himself, throwing out his good wing over the knights, shielding them just as the flame burst from Alaion’s throat. As if it were merely a bright seeing stone, the dragon fire only lit up Wren’s good wing, leaving it unsinged in its wake.

  With an angry screech, Alaion bat his wings and threw himself backward in the sky. Wren circled them and skidded into the ground, kicking up dirt in long trenches where his hind feet had landed.

  Elayne stopped short with Rosalind at her side. They’d made it almost to the knights where they stood defensively, now uncovered, their weapons drawn. The warmth ran down Elayne’s arms and Rosalind held her staff in two hands before her.

  “Father!” Tavaris’s voice cut through the air from Wren’s back. “Please! Stop!”

  “Stop?” Alaion’s voice was animalistic and garbled. “You plead for these humans?”

  “They’re nice!” he shouted back. “You don’t even know them!”

  “They’re human. I don’t need to know anymore.”

  Tavaris set his jaw, dipping his head down. His eyes narrowed, and he held tightly to the scales on Wren’s back. “You’re wrong!” he yelled. “They’re not all bad. And elves aren’t all good.”

  “So be it.” Alaion landed before the knights. “Die with them then.” The dragon-elf threw out a clawed arm to sweep the knights away.

  They fled out of its range save for one of the twins, his tunic caught on one of the talons, and he was lifted up. “Cayleb!” the other twin shouted up at his brother. Alaion shook his arm, jostling the knight around but failing to fling him off.

  As he was distracted, both Legosen and Frederick took their alighted blades and stabbed the dragon. It should have been a clean run through, the human skin of his belly exposed, but instead the swords sunk in deeply and glowed brighter. The dim orange hue of Alaion’s stomach brightened too, and he finally flung Cayleb across the courtyard.

  Alaion laughed as if he were merely being tickled, though the sound was fearsome. The knights struggled to retract their swords until, with a hot, blue flash they were blown backward, their swords stripped of their aether and laying dull at their sides. Alaion had grown, closer to the size of Wren now. He was still laughing, and his skin had taken on a multicolored glow. He opened his jaws.

  “Watch out!”

  The dragon flame came again, but Voss and Jayceb had already scattered, and Legosen and Frederick were out of its range. This time the fire was sparked with greens and blues just like the swords that
had been plunged into him.

  “He absorbed the aether!” Elayne shouted, running up to Frederick and helping him to his feet. “It’s making him stronger.”

  Closer now, Elayne could see embedded in Alaion’s throat a crystal. She cursed under her breath and pointed it out. “The thaumat stone. We need to destroy it.”

  “Right.” Legosen’s eyes were set on Alaion as he sprinted at him. With a graceful leap, he scaled Alaion’s leg and up onto his shoulder, taking his aether-less sword and piercing the crystal. As soon as it came in contact, Legosen’s own aether was spat back at him, throwing the elf away from the dragon.

  “Well, that didn’t work.” Voss huffed, taking his sword in two hands. “Looks like we need to do this the old-fashioned way.” He ran in and swiped at Alaion’s leg, taking a chunk out of it. Blood flooded out, black and thick.

  Alaion took to the sky again with a screech. Wren did the same, and the two clashed in the air high above. Jayceb had fetched Cayleb, helping him back to the others, and they stood watching the two dragons trade blows in the sky, but only for a moment as again they came sailing toward the ground. They scattered to make room for the falling bodies, just escaping where they landed, throwing up dirt and rocks in every direction.

  While he was down, Rosalind charged Alaion, her staff in hand, and began thwacking him. He let out an annoyed grunt, but could not escape from Wren’s more massive body, holding him down.

  “Dad, come on!” Tavaris shouted, looking over the edge of Wren’s back and at his father. “Just…let it go. For me.”

  “For you?” Alaion grumbled. “You’re hardly an elf, let alone my son. Your heart has always bled for those weaker than you. I thought killing off your mother would toughen you, but you were never going to be a great elven lord. You were always meant to be this. Useless.”

  Tavaris’s eyes went black. He stood on Wren’s back and jumped down onto Alaion’s chest, dropping his hands onto the crystal. A blue-black aether flowed out of him and into Alaion. The dragon-elf made a garbled, vitriolic sound, then let out a choked laugh.