by Riley Storm
Valla. The youngest, he was a new father, with the grim determination of a parent to sacrifice anything to protect their young.
Jax. The earth dragon and the one responsible for giving the dragons the only hope they had against the massed might of the vampires.
An alliance with all the shifter races.
“I will do my best to defeat the vampires,” he growled to the other dragons. “They have come to rule us, but we will not submit so easily. They will find us ready to fight, and to win. No dragon will bend to their will while I still draw breath,” he vowed.
The other dragons nodded. They were in agreement. A fight to the death was the only end they could see.
And maybe, just maybe, I can find a way to help us win before it’s too late.
It was a tall ask for a new King, but what choice did Galen have?
3
“Remember, Kyla, you must find out what they are up to. That is your primary mission.” The Archmage looked around covertly.
The two of them were standing in a concealed courtyard near the center of the Academy. No one else was there to see her off. None knew of her mission, and the Archmage wished to keep it that way.
“But if the opportunity presents itself,” he added softly. “Then you must strike at them. The weaker Draconis is, the better our chance of defeating them. I won’t give you instructions on how, because I won’t be there. But use your brain, and do what you feel is right,” the Archmage said.
Kyla stiffened. “But Archmage, we are not officially at war with one another,” she protested. “We don’t even know that the dragons are rallying the others against us.”
In her heart, Kyla wasn’t sure she believed her own protests, but one thing she did know was that if she struck as the Archmage intended and was caught, she would be declared rogue. At that point, any protection the Mage Council could offer her would be removed.
She didn’t want to imagine what the dragons would do to her then. They would most certainly kill her, but what unimaginable sorts of torture could such unrefined brutish types as shifters come up with, to put her through first? Kyla shivered at the thought.
“Do your duty,” the Archmage said. “As you best see fit.”
Nodding, she gripped her staff tightly, pulling the long jacket she wore tighter around her, the edges dangling down to her knees. The slim-fitting coat wasn’t thick at all, and it was designed to move with her as she ran and to billow out slightly behind her with the wind, a design feature that she found helped add intimidation to her appearance.
“I will find the truth,” she said, and gestured with her free hand at the blank space in front of her.
Reality shivered, a sight most unsettling for those uninitiated in the ways of magic, and then it quite simply ripped open. Before her stood a thick metal gate across a driveway. Behind it was a forest full of large mature trees, obscuring anything else that lay between.
“Good luck,” the Archmage told her. “Strike deep.”
Kyla just nodded, stepping through the portal and emerging in front of Dracon Keep, stronghold of High House Draconis.
Mortal enemies of the mages.
“You’re really in it now,” she said, walking up to the gate.
Her senses, finally tuned to things of magic nature, stopped her about ten feet short of the gate itself, and about a foot shy of the magical border.
Wards. Lots of them.
Wards were spells of protection, layered one upon another. Invisible and unseen unless activated, they could lie dormant for a long time, and spring into visibility at the slightest touch. They were used to keep out magical creatures or, in her case, to strip them of their powers.
Kyla could walk through. The wards would not stop her. But in doing so, she would forfeit her magic, be devoid of the ability to protect herself. That was the last thing she wanted. If she wished to retain her abilities, she must be invited in and allowed to pass.
“Well. Seems that the polite thing to do is knock.” Reaching out, she tapped the butt end of her staff against an empty spot in the air.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
With each tap against the shield, sparks erupted from her staff and a golden barrier flowed into existence, spreading wide as the wards absorbed her magic and spread it across them. As the magic faded, so too did the barrier.
She stood back and waited, enjoying the heat of the day. It was late afternoon, but the sun was still up in the sky, beating down on a beautiful summer day. July, one of the nicest and warmest months. Kyla basked in the heat, accepting it into her very bones.
The Mage Council and Academy were based out of the mountains in the north, and though the Appalachians were humps compared to the Rockies to the west, high up in their northernmost peaks it was still a noticeable temperature drop compared to down closer to sea level.
This was heaven for the mage.
While she waited for a response—the dragons would be aware of her knocks—Kyla looked around. Something felt…off, to her. Trained eyes scanned her surroundings.
A road ran perpendicular to the front gate, a county road that followed the line of the stone wall surrounding Drakon Keep and then meandered off into the distance, curving slightly off to the left.
Across from her was a forest, so thick and full that not much light penetrated to the ground level. It was thick with shadows, swirling and casting crazed lines as the branches shifted and swayed in the light breeze.
Kyla frowned. Even at this time of day, more light should be making it to the forest floor. What was blocking it?
She summoned some magic, meaning to quest out and see what was going on.
“Can I help you?”
The voice from behind her startled Kyla. Spinning, she saw a tall man, thick black hair styled upward. Eyes as bright as the arctic tundra stared out at her from behind the gate.
“My name is Kyla Langston. I’m here on behalf of the Archmage of the Guild,” she said, speaking the proper lines. “I wish an audience with your King.”
The dragon nodded slowly. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” Kyla tried to keep her confusion from showing. Why did that surprise him?
“No.”
She blinked, annoyed at the blunt, gruff tone of the obvious dragon shifter. “Pardon me?”
“I said no. He’s not taking visitors right now.”
Kyla walked right up to the barrier. “You’re lying,” she said sharply. “Now let me in. I am here as an official emissary.”
“Naw,” the dragon drawled, covering a fake yawn. “I think not. Begone.”
Kyla gritted her teeth. “I will knock hard enough that he will come himself if I must,” she growled, lifting her staff, dropping it against the concrete.
Green magic sparks shot out from her in a circle. They died short of the wards, but continued out for ten yards in every other direction.
Almost immediately, the air around her grew cold. She smiled in understanding. He was an ice dragon.
A quick mental effort pushed energy into the staff. The ruins carved along its length began to glow softly, and immediate warmth repulsed the dragon’s spell.
“I will be speaking with your King,” she said, using a gust of wind to blow the heat toward the ice dragon, turning the air absolutely torridly hot just before it crossed the ward.
The ward blocked the spell, but hot air was just hot air, and so it let it pass. The ice dragon growled angrily as sweat broke out across his forehead before he gestured angrily, and the temperature again dropped.
“You’re too young,” Kyla announced, taking a gamble. “You can’t defeat me, ice dragon. But nor do I seek to defeat you. I am here to talk. Nothing more.”
She pushed aside the memory of the Archmage’s other command.
“So step through the barrier then,” the dragon said, crossing his arms.
“Really? Come on now.” Kyla lifted her staff and rapped the bottom against the wards again. This time
she didn’t tap lightly, but put a bit more effort behind it.
Golden magic sprang to life in a fifty-foot arc around her. This was the equivalent of knocking hard enough for someone on the second floor to hear with ease. Kyla wasn’t here to play games.
The ice dragon looked uneasy at the casual display of magic. Many mages could knock harder of course, in fact most could. But her casual disdain for the response it might provoke was what the dragon was noting. Whoever she was, she clearly felt confident in her ability to answer any reply that might come their way.
“Very well,” the dragon said, coming to a decision. “You may enter.”
“Thank you…” she trailed off, her eyes watching him.
“Valla Drakon,” the young ice dragon said gruffly.
“Kyla. Thank you for that.”
He shrugged and gestured her forward. “Come on then.”
It was then that Kyla realized his eyes were focused beyond her. On something else. She passed through the barrier, the magic only dulling her magic now, not stripping it from her completely. Once she was through, she looked over her shoulder.
Nothing was there. Nothing except the forest.
“Everything okay?” she asked, noting the dragon’s uneasy stance and the clenched fist filled with ice.
“Let’s go see the King,” Valla said quietly, taking one last look out the gate before heading back up the driveway, one Kyla Langston in tow.
So far so good, even if nothing was going the way she envisioned it.
4
“Galen.”
Looking up from his book, Galen spied one of his brothers in the doorway.
“Valla,” he said, returning the greeting. “What can I do for you? Who was at the front door?”
The ice dragon opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, someone else slipped in front of him, ignoring Valla’s attempt to keep her back.
“My name is Kyla Langston, and I am here on behalf of the Archmage of the Guild,” the woman said formally.
Galen found himself on his feet immediately, eyes glued to the new woman. She was tall, he noted, for a woman at least. A few inches over five-and-a-half feet, she wouldn’t be imposing her will on anyone through sheer height alone, but then, that wouldn’t be necessary.
Power radiated from the woman. Not just her calm in the presence of two dragon shifters, but in a much more literal sense as well. Dragons were well tuned to magical things, much like the mages themselves, and Galen could feel the power contained in the young woman’s thick body.
Her eyes were locked onto his, the dark gray of her iris yet another indicator to the elder dragon that this woman was far more than she appeared. He eyed the long jacket, likely stuffed with all nature of magical aids, and then the staff itself.
“A powerful weapon,” he remarked, gesturing at it, noting the ruins and the casual way in which she held the five-foot-long piece of wood.
“A tool,” she corrected smoothly, following his gaze. “It can be a weapon, but it can do much more as well. Only a novice thinks of it as purely a weapon.”
Galen smiled. “Well met, mage.” He tried to keep any disdain from his voice at his acknowledgment of what she was.
It wasn’t easy. Many memories of his past bubbled to the surface, and old instincts made Galen want to reach out and choke the life out of her, right then and there.
Yet something about her stayed his hand, keeping him intrigued.
“What can we do for you?” He tried not to let his eyes wander to the attractive features that the young mage presented to him.
It was difficult. More difficult than it should have been, in fact, and Galen caught himself starting to frown on more than one occasion as she talked.
“The Archmage has sent me to talk to you,” Kyla said. “He has some questions, and hopes that you will be able to answer them.”
“This is rather unusual, don’t you think?” Galen interrupted before she could elaborate. “Why, there hasn’t been any contact between us and the Mages Guild in over a century. Now you come here, to our house, wanting to ask questions of us?”
His own distrust of mages was boiling over, and Galen knew it. Powerful memories were rising to the surface, powerful and painful. Thoughts he’d long since tried to forget, to put behind him. Feelings that the long deep sleep of the past century had helped render null and void upon his awakening.
All this and more was brought back to the surface by the woman’s presence. The air around her stirred, a sign of Galen’s subconscious reaching out, wanting to hurt her. To kill her, for what the mages had done to dragons.
For what they had done to him.
“There must be a first at some point,” Kyla pointed out, her eyes darting around, focusing on nothing, it seemed.
She could feel the air moving. Knew what it must signal about Galen.
“Perhaps,” he admitted, not wanting to completely give her the point. “Ask your question then,” he said, anxious for the meeting to be over.
“Rumors have reached us,” the mage began.
“Rumors,” Galen echoed, feeling his temper rise, fueled by pain. “You come here to ask about rumors? Really? You bother me for that?”
To his surprise, the mage did not back down. She didn’t even waver as his voice grew deeper, more anger-filled.
“I wish to confirm them, and to figure out what they mean if they are true,” she said defiantly, thrusting her jaw out at him ever so slightly in challenge.
Air swirled more strongly around her, Galen’s powers translating his emotions.
Those dark gray eyes looked around again, and then the mage banged her staff against the floor. The air abruptly stilled around her.
Galen reared back, impressed at the backbone. The Guild clearly had not sent anyone who would be easily cowed by a shifter.
“What rumor?” he asked, deciding to answer her question and throw her out as soon as possible.
“It is being said that Draconis has united the shifters, brought them all into an alliance.”
The mage spoke without hesitation, nor without any diplomatic speak, something Galen despised completely. Blunt, easy conversation was the best to have in his opinion. He was grateful that the mage either felt the same, or was smart enough to pick up on this. Either way, his respect for her went up slightly.
“And who is saying that, Kyla of the Guild?” he asked, using her name so that he wouldn’t forget it.
“The Archmage.”
She wasn’t afraid of him. Galen was only now cluing in to the reality of the situation. He could feel her power, and he knew she was strong. The question now on his mind, was just how strong? It was obvious that, for a human, even a human mage, she was still young.
“Who are you, Kyla Langston? What role do you play in the Guild?” he asked, sidestepping her question for the time being, determined to get an answer for himself before he replied.
It was fascinating watching her, seeing the various courses of action available to the mage play across her face as she tried to decide how to respond to his question.
“I asked first,” she decided in the end, not wanting to let herself be cowed, even by an elder dragon.
Galen chuckled. He hated this woman, despised her for what she was, and what her kind had done, yet he could not help but extend a bit of respect to her for sticking to her guns.
“Technically, you did not ask a question,” he pointed out. “Thus, I have asked first.”
It was true. She had said her statement as a challenge, not a question. He could see that knowledge sink home.
“I am a member of the Mage Council,” Kyla said, deciding to give him this point.
“Young, no?”
“The youngest,” she said without pride. To her, that was just a fact.
“You are well learned for someone so young,” he said. “And I applaud your bravery in coming here alone, without an escort of other mages.”
“I can take care of myself,” Kyla said. “
Besides, I don’t plan on ruffling any feathers. Or scales, I guess.”
Again, confidence, fact, not arrogance. Galen had to fight back a smile.
“The rumors you here are correct,” he said. “The shifters have been brought back into alliance with one another.”
Kyla looked around, and for the first time Galen thought she looked uncomfortable. Almost worried. Scared, maybe, though she fought it back valiantly.
“I see. I would ask one more question of you then, if that is okay?”
He gestured for her to continue.
“Do you intend to renew the war against us?” she asked quietly.
Galen felt the subtle pull as magic was summoned to the woman. He noted the way she gripped the staff just a little tighter. The slight shuffle of her feet as she transferred the weight to her toes, ready to move if necessary.
She was afraid now.
“Of course not,” he barked, trying to diffuse the situation. “The Mages are not even on our radar.”
Kyla shook her head. “Then why the alliance?” she asked. “Why unite the shifters once more, if not to fight us?”
Galen could have toyed with her. Could have led the mage down a dozen different logic paths if he’d wanted to, but for some reason, he found himself wanting to calm her down. To assure the mage that everything was okay between her kind and his. That she had nothing to fear.
Has a century of sleep seen you grow soft? Why do you not wish to see her tremble?
The answer was clear, after a second of thought. He was thinking as King, not as Galen. He would have to answer as his position, not his person, because that was the meaning of diplomacy.
I hate diplomacy.
He threw her a bone.
“We are united because there is a greater threat. Something else that we must fight together,” he said, wondering if the gravity of his words would work past her distrust of him. “This enemy comes from the ancient past, and if we do not fight as one, then we will be destroyed.”
Kyla’s only reaction was a flaring of her nostrils and widening of her pupils. Otherwise, she kept herself stoically calm.
“What enemy?” she wanted to know, though it was obvious she thought he was lying, hoping to distract her from the truth.
