Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  “Well, it’s easy to think straight without an execution hanging over your head” she said. “Just tell him a lie and say you’re sorry.”

  I raised my chin, looking King Magnar in his turquoise eyes. He was much easier to lie to, as they didn’t have the hardness of Father’s or General Thornicroft’s.

  “Actually, you’re right,” I said. “I didn’t ask which rules we were dueling under. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have disarmed you or attacked your armor.”

  His eyes widened a fraction. “Really?”

  “Really.” I raised my shoulders into a shrug. “To be honest, I was desperate and cheated to keep up with a stronger opponent.”

  His chest puffed out, and a little smile curved his lips. “It’s understandable. I’ve seen people do worse on the battlefield.”

  “Since the duel is null and void, do you think we could start again and become friends?”

  “F-friends?” His face went slack. “Why?”

  “I’d much rather have you as an ally than an enemy.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So, this is all about my declaration of war? You’re scared of being conquered.”

  My throat dried. I was a terrible liar and an even worse diplomat. It made my stomach hurt to speak to him in such civil terms. King Magnar was the worst leader in the Known World, a cheat, and a transparent thief, but was also the most ruthless warlord and conquerer in a generation.

  “I can’t deny being scared of the mighty Savannah Empire. But I’m mostly envious and want to learn how to be great. You’re only just a little older than me, yet you’ve achieved so much.”

  The arrogant fool inclined his head, as though murdering one’s own father to inherit a throne and then invading the neighboring country to usurp his maternal grandfather was a worthy achievement.

  I held out a filthy hand. “Friends?”

  He glared down at the dung encrusting my fingers. “I’ll call off my declaration of war if you convince your cousin to visit my palace.”

  My brows drew together. The only cousins I knew of were the twins and Chrysus, who hardly ever left the realm of the fairies. I chewed my bottom lip. “Um…”

  His chest deflated. “Don’t you think Princess Alba likes me?”

  My insides froze. His question was so bizarre, it made me wonder if there was another Princess with the same name. “Oh… Her.”

  “Put in a good word for me, and I’ll call off the declaration.”

  “Do it!” hissed Fyrian. “You can always reject him later as yourself.”

  “A-all right,” I replied.

  The wretched King’s entire face lit up. Most probably at the prospect of having someone to deride for being born a bastard. “Very well!” He threw his arms wide. “I will throw away the declaration of war and craft a reply to the Prince Regent’s offer of betrothal!”

  He pulled on the reins, and the black dragon rose ten feet in the air and flew off toward the mountain.

  I turned to Fyrian. “I can’t believe he—”

  The ground rumbled, knocking me off my feet.

  Chapter 17

  Crouching on my hands and knees, I clenched my teeth to stop them from clacking together with all the movement. The ground rumbled, jerking me up and down and from side to side. My stomach roiled. I closed my eyes to protect them from the dust and earth particles flying into my face. Dung from the shaking barrows flew through the gaps in the tarpaulin.

  “Alba!” Fyrian cried. She was large enough to walk around unaffected by the tremors. “Climb onto my back.”

  She nudged my arm with the tip of her tail.

  “I-I’ll try.” I groped around, gripping her tail, navigating the spikes at each vertebra. Another powerful tremor blew up a cloud of dust. Grit lodged under my eyelids and filled my lungs, making me hack like a cat with a hairball. Although the rumbling ground made her tail vibrate, and tears filled my eyes, I clung onto her and continued climbing.

  The thud of a dragon’s landing sounded from behind, and then a hand landed on my back. A dark figure stood by my side. “Go to the interior of the mountain.”

  “But I thought—”

  “You will be safe there,” said Master Solum. “Fyrian, take your partner immediately.”

  I groped around, crawling up Fyrian’s spine until I felt the familiar smoothness of the space between her wing bones. As soon as I settled myself, I leaned against her neck and sent a silent apology for covering her in dung. By the time my vision had cleared and I looked down, Master Solum was gone. When I raised my head, it was to see a black dragon flying toward the mountain.

  “We’d better check on Viet and see who else needs help,” I said.

  Fyrian took to the skies and flew back to the black dragons’ grassy mounds. As we landed, Viet poked his head out of one of their dwellings. I helped him up to Fyrian’s back, and we returned to the mountain.

  “What are we going to do about the missing eggs?” asked Fyrian.

  I ground my teeth and turned my head to avoid a huge gust of grainy air. Although King Magnar had called off his war on the United Kingdom of Seven, the eggs were still missing, and I’d run out of clues.

  “Maybe Evolene’s worked something out. I saw her helping King Magnar after his armor exploded. Hopefully, she’s made friends with his sisters.”

  After cleaning up in my former room, I headed for the mess hall in search of Evolene. The vast room was a mass of empty tables, except for the one on the right used as a buffet. Eyepatch slouched on a wooden bench, staring into a steaming tureen of stew. When he caught sight of me at the terrace, he straightened but I dashed away before he could force a heaping bowl of food on me.

  “They’re probably at the library again,” said Fyrian.

  I nodded. “Did you find out anything about the earthquake?”

  “I’m still asking around. No one felt it over here, but someone has to know.”

  It was probably related to the architectural runes I’d seen the day before in the lower hallways. I headed out of the mess hall in the direction of the library. Out on the terrace, wind blew up clouds of dust, obscuring both the sun and my view of the mountain’s lower levels. Squinting to protect my eyes, I turned left and descended the stairs into another set of terraces.

  Much later, I found Rufus’ brother, Niger, sitting outside a dragon’s stall. He’d tied back his long, auburn hair and was cleaning his fingernails with the point of a dagger.

  He raised a hand in greeting. “I heard you got expelled.”

  My chest ached at the reminder, and I folded my arms across my chest. “I did, but there’s civil unrest in the capital. They won’t take me back until it’s settled.”

  “Did you get your confession from King Magnar?”

  “He says that disarming him and destroying his armor is against some code of honor.”

  His head snapped up, and his obsidian eyes blazed. “How else were you supposed to get first blood? By stabbing him through the eye?”

  I huffed. Talking about King Magnar would only get me riled up again, and it reminded me that I still needed to research the source of King Magnar’s magic. It was definitely related to the missing eggs.

  My shoulders hunched, and I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Not much I can do about it, is there? I agreed with him to call off the war against the United Kingdom of Seven.”

  Niger curled his lip. “That boy needs a punch in the gut.”

  “I’ll do worse if I ever get the chance.”

  “Want to practice the basics of drogott? If we fly west, we can avoid the dust storm.”

  My heart sank. Even though I’d been expelled, I still wanted to learn how to play like them. I peered into the stall, where his friend was tending to a dragon with blood-red scales. It wasn’t the same one he’d ridden during the drogott match, and I assumed this was how mages who couldn’t connect mentally with dragons bonded.

  “There’s no time,” I muttered. “Have you seen Evolene?”

  H
is brows rose, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “Check the library.”

  Cadets occupied all the reading alcoves in the library. Stafford, Rufus, and Gobi sat with some of the riders I’d recognized from Swordsmanship class. King Magnar was probably perusing the shelves for something else to ‘borrow.’

  On the other side of the library sat the cadets from the Healing Academy. King Magnar’s sisters gathered around a low table with Evolene, giggling over a scroll they’d found. I waved and caught her eye.

  When she gave me a nod of acknowledgment, I flicked my head toward a shelf at the far end of the library, indicating for us to meet later.

  Before the girls could see what had distracted her attention, I ducked behind a row of history books. The top shelf, marked ‘HISTORY OF DRAGONS,’ was empty, as was the one marked ‘HIGH FAIRIES OF ELPHAME.’

  “Do you think Magnar took them?” asked Fyrian.

  “Either him or his sisters.” I strode across the room to the librarian’s desk. The male glowered, and I tried not to look at the eye with the missing pupil. “Excuse me?”

  His gaze lifted to my face. “Yes?”

  “Could you tell me if anyone has borrowed the high fairies books?”

  He opened up his desktop drawers and sorted through the tickets. “The young witches from the Savannah Empire took the books out. They are due next week.”

  “Won’t they be gone by then?”

  His face twisted, deepening the pockmarks on his face into gouges. “Students may take volumes home, but they must return all books and scrolls before the due date.”

  My stomach clenched just in time to hold back a surge of nausea. Those books held the clues I needed to discover how King Magnar had hidden the eggs. I rubbed my temples and frowned. How else could I discover more about dark fairy magic if he’d taken all the books on the subject?

  Fyrian gasped. “You think he’s hiding the eggs with fairy magic?”

  “Remember how you felt when he put on his helmet? And how Master Fosco accused me of being like my great-grandfather? I think King Magnar used something similar to hide the eggs.”

  “It’s possible…” she replied.

  “Look at it this way: he’s got four young witches helping him, but Mount Fornax has dozens. Don’t you think Madam Maritimus and her security witches would have found the eggs if his sisters had hidden them with their own magic?”

  “You’re right.”

  I turned back to the librarian. “Do you have other copies of the books? Or a bookstore?”

  He scratched the back of his head. “You’d have to go to the capital yourself for extra copies of the books, but there are scrolls in the archives about fairies.”

  My heart jumped. “Where can I find this archive?”

  He stood, groaning at each crick of his joints. I stared at my feet, tamping down a pang of sympathy for the old man. Behind him was a pair of double doors which led to a dark, dry room, lit by a couple of gaslights. Four iron candlestick holders sat atop a long, wooden desk in the middle of the room. I looked from them to the floor-to-ceiling shelves of scrolls on every wall. It seemed peculiar to keep an open flame near so much parchment.

  “This is where we keep copies of the original scrolls.” He pointed at the far left corner. “You will find everything recorded on Elphame over there.”

  “Thank you.”

  He walked back out into the library and shut the door behind me, plunging the room into semi-darkness.

  “Did you ever visit the library when you were a dragonet?” I asked.

  “Not really. Auntie Rilla mostly asked me to deliver messages to General Finback and Master Fosco. They have their own books.”

  I walked to the far side of the room and picked up a scroll I found at eye level. This one was about how to reach Elphame. Next to it was a scroll containing a map of the Known World, identifying all known portals created by the dragons who had first escaped imprisonment in the realm of the fairies.

  “There’s so much irrelevant information here,” I said. “All I need are a few scrolls on the Forgotten King and fairy artifacts.”

  “Auntie Rilla has a pair of red boots in her chambers,” said Fyrian. “They’re the Galoshes of Good Fortune, but she said they were fairy artifacts and can’t be trusted.”

  “Why not?”

  “Ummm… She sent me out on an errand before she could explain why.”

  I reached for a scroll on a higher shelf, but another fell on my head, loosening a tiny cloud of dust. Spluttering like an angry cat, I pulled it out and read its label: FORGOTTEN KING.

  My heart jumped into my throat. Apart from Mother and Chrysus, I knew little about my fairy relatives. This scroll probably contained information on my great-grandfather, the Fairy King who had created dragons. Heart racing, I ran my trembling fingers over the dusty surface, daring myself to look inside.

  “Don’t just stand there gaping at the scroll,” snapped Fyrian. “Open it.”

  I carried it to the table and unrolled its parchment, making sure to hold the ends down with the iron candlestick holders. The scroll stretched the entire surface of the table and was a combination of writing and pictures. I squinted. The face in the middle of the scroll looked like Prince Vanus.

  “The eyes are different,” said Fyrian. “Vanus never looked so cruel.”

  I’d been subjected to hard stares. Father and General Thornicroft were experts at intimidating a person with their eyes, but the King of the Fairies made them look like cubs in comparison. The fairy staring back at me had eyes that could slice me in half. And then delight in the carnage.

  A shudder ran down my spine. I couldn’t be related to such a cruel-looking person. “No wonder they banished him.”

  “What does the scroll say?”

  I skimmed its contents, my eyes focusing on the passages that caught my interest:

  The creator of dragons and progenitor of spriggans to carry out his misdeeds.

  The acts of evil were listed underneath, and I skimmed over the parts describing what he did to the human women he captured, animals he mutilated, and the experiments he conducted on lower fairies, until I reached the end:

  He slumbers, deep inside the earth of men, where he will remain until his bones turn to dust and his spirit is released to the aether. It is our belief that the geas that protects his name from being uttered is insufficient. To keep this creature in his eternal banishment, all records and memory of his name must be erased until he is truly forgotten.

  “Then why do we learn about him in History of Dragons?”

  “That’s a good question,” said Fyrian.

  “And how could dark fairy magic have been infused in King Magnar’s armor?”

  “Let’s hope Magnar wasn’t stupid enough to wake him up.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “A brat like him doesn’t get to amass strong armies and conquer countries without powerful help.”

  “That’s obvious.”

  “But someone like the Forgotten King wouldn’t bother himself with a mortal. He’d attack Elphame directly.” I rolled up the scroll and placed it back on the shelf. “Let’s see what else we can find.”

  A knock sounded on the door, and it clicked open. Evolene squeezed herself in through a small gap, clutching her staff to her chest. “I-I’ve come to report.”

  I perked up and gestured at the table. “Take a seat.”

  She scurried across the room and sat at the chair furthest away from me. “I did what you asked.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “They keep asking questions about how the witches fought against the high fairies during the war.”

  “Really?” I sat and leaned forward. Decades ago, the fairies declared war on the ogres because they disagreed with their treatment of humans living in Steppe. Although high fairies were more powerful, they put lower fairies in the front lines, preferring to stay in Elphame to direct the battles.

  “But Auntie Rilla ended that
by being born,” said Fyrian.

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “They still preserve the room in the palace where Prince Evander was kept hostage.”

  My flesh crawled, and I tried not to think of how my grandfather was tortured with fairy iron and forced to marry Aunt Cendrilla’s mother, the Queen of the Ogres. I turned to Evolene. “Did the witches explain who they wanted to fight?”

  “Piper, the youngest one, wanted to tell me, but her sisters shushed her.”

  I pursed my lips. “Did you learn anything about the missing eggs?”

  “Not exactly, but they have two older sisters.”

  My mouth fell open. “They must be here with the eggs!”

  “When I asked if they were taking care of the country, the other girls looked at Freja, who said that they were.”

  “You know what that means?” asked Fyrian.

  “We know their accomplices.” I turned to Evolene. “Well done. Your information has given me everything we need to find the eggs.”

  A flush stained her cheeks, and her eyes shone. “Where are they?”

  I moved the candlesticks out of the way. “The two sisters snuck into the mountain under invisibility spells and stole the eggs.”

  Evolene scratched her head. “I can’t see how they could have done it without getting caught.”

  “The eggs were stolen while everybody was busy watching the opening ceremony in the arena.” I went to the shelf and slid a scroll out from a pile of other equally as dusty rolled-up parchments.

  “Two young witches couldn’t have overpowered that many healers.”

  “They could with fairy artifacts like the one King Magnar used in our duel.” I pulled out a scroll. It was marked ‘IMPS,’ so I slid it back.

  “All right.” Evolene paused for several moments, and drummed her fingers on the table’s surface. She bowed her head, hiding her features with a curtain of chestnut hair.

  I turned away from the scrolls and held my breath. It was easy to forget that underneath that nervous demeanor was a self-taught witch who had achieved advanced-level magical feats with an apprentice wand the size of a pencil.