Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  I crossed the dining hall with the cat at my heels.

  Eyepatch followed us.

  Albens and the mages from before stepped through the barrier. “Bluford, General Thornicroft told me to thank you for your tip. He wants you to report to him in Master Fosco’s office later for a private lesson.”

  “Isn't he’d busy with King Magnar?”

  “Madam Maritimus put him in the jailhouse. The troll is a more interesting candidate for interrogation.” Albens turned his gaze to Eyepatch. “Do I smell bloodwurst porridge?”

  “Yes, Major,” replied the server.

  “Good. Four bowls, please.”

  I stepped out of the mess hall into the terrace. A single dragon moth flew down from the trees above. The cat launched itself in the air, spreading out furry, violet wings. It opened its mouth and blew a small stream of fire. The moth flew out of range and back to the other terrace.

  “Could you let Stafford know I’m going to the jailhouse?” I held out my palm.

  The cat swooped down, grabbed a piece of meat, and flew after the moth.

  “Er… Thanks?” It would probably forget, but at least the cat wasn’t suffering from the dragon plague.

  When I reached the surface, the sun hung high in the sky, casting short, dark shadows over the courtyard. An empty float with a damaged wing stood by the double doors to the reception area. The magical gauges on its wing bones appeared empty, and I wondered if they’d used these vehicles to tow dragons who had fallen ill within the grounds.

  I crossed the sandstone courtyard and headed for the jailhouse. No witches or warriors guarded its exterior, so I pushed open the wooden door. At the end of the room and behind a magical barrier, King Magnar sat on a narrow cot, staring into his hands. This was probably the expression he used for trying to look innocent.

  “After everything you put them through, the dragons are on your side.” I sat on the wooden desk and leaned forward to examine his reaction to my next question. “Who helped you control their minds?”

  His shoulders drooped. “I caught a glimpse of a few of the dragons earlier. What manner of disease has befallen them?”

  “You don’t know?”

  He raised his head. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot. “Why would I?”

  “You brought the locusts in,” I replied. “Why wouldn’t you bring pestilence, too?”

  He winced. “When we laid those artifacts outside the wards, we thought they would cause a distraction much like fireworks.”

  An incredulous laugh huffed out of my throat. Did he expect me to believe he was an unwitting party in the attack on Steppe’s agriculture?

  Earnest, turquoise eyes stared back from a face likely magically enhanced to look appealing. Right now, his regal demeanor had melted away, leaving a downturned expression designed for maximum sympathy.

  I pulled my rack of vials to my chest. “Why would you use fairy artifacts without knowing exactly what they did?”

  “It was that or die,” he whispered.

  “What?” I slipped down from the table, set down the rack, and walked across the room.

  King Magnar lowered his gaze. “I’m under a boon to grant that wretched spriggan six favors.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “One for each sister.” He huffed out a frustrated breath and ran his hands through his hair. “I may as well tell you everything, seeing as we’re to be married.”

  A rebuttal tumbled out of my mouth, and I clamped my lips shut. Now was not the time to argue about this one-sided betrothal. Instead, I wrapped my arms around my chest and waited.

  “What do you know about Old Savannah?” he asked.

  “It was ruled by your father, King Calder, until you usurped him.”

  Shaking his head, he muttered, “I suppose the outside world would see it that way.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He raised his head and met my gaze. “My mother was a witch who kept her magical status a secret.”

  I lifted a shoulder, waiting for him to elaborate. In Steppe, witches were prized. Ogresses bred with human males because doing so could produce magical children... But only if the child was a girl. When he didn’t speak, I asked, “What’s so bad about being a witch?”

  “Father despises magic users. He tolerates them because they make up a small but very powerful element of the population, but he always viewed them as a blight.”

  “Oh.” An ache formed in the back of my throat. His six sisters were powerful witches.

  “For years, I thought I was an only child, and that my mother needed to stay in a tower for her health. But I later discovered he locked her up when Astri was born and started showing magical powers.”

  “That was when he discovered she was a witch,” I murmured.

  He shrugged. “It was impossible to hide her status after giving birth to a magical baby.”

  “So, he locked her up?”

  “And placed Astri in a nursery deep in the cellar, so nobody would discover he’d married a witch.”

  “Then why do you have six sisters?”

  He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “Alchemy.”

  My stomach turned to lead. “What?”

  “The Alchemist-General said he could harness their magic and transfer it to Father. He planned on becoming the most powerful magical being in the Known World.”

  I wiped my brow and swallowed. This was far too close to what those men had tried to do to me during that terrible abduction. “How did you stop him?”

  “With the spriggan’s help.”

  I lowered myself to the stone floor and sat. Then I tightened my stomach, bracing myself for whatever he would say next. “Go on.”

  “When I was eleven, a voice would call to me at night, telling me of the damsels in the basement who needed my help. At first, I thought it was a nightmare, but nothing could get rid of it.”

  I drew my knees to my chest. “The spriggan… What did it want?”

  “It took months before it entered my dreams and showed me my sisters.” The lump in his throat bobbed up and down. “They were sad, pale creatures, pining for their mother. I befriended them but didn’t think they were real.”

  “Did you tell anyone?” I asked.

  “Only Mother. And she told me not to speak of them in case Father locked me away, too.”

  I leaned forward, eyes wide. “How did you discover they were real?”

  “Three years ago, the voice told me to hide in the throne room and listen.” He swallowed. “That’s when I heard the Alchemist General announce it was time to harvest the witches’ power.”

  “What happened next?”

  King Magnar’s lips pressed together. “I was young. Impulsive. I rushed out from the broom cupboard and confronted Father, but he had me imprisoned for treason.”

  “Why?”

  “With Mother producing a new witch every two years, each with the power to extend his life, he said he no longer needed an heir.”

  I clenched my fists. “He was modeling himself after the Snow Queen!”

  “That’s why I took the Kingdom. And why I invaded Old Pampas and the Midas Islands to create the Savannah Empire. The voice told me that those monarchs also had alchemists advising them to steal magical power.”

  “But how did you make a deal with the spriggan?” I asked.

  “The night Father imprisoned me, the wretched creature appeared in my dream and made an offer. For each sister it helped me to rescue, I would do it a favor.”

  “You made a boon?” I clenched my teeth. At least I understood why King Magnar submitted to the spriggan’s demands. Boons were unbreakable magical bargains punishable by death.

  King Magnar closed his eyes. “I had no choice.”

  I stood. “What were the favors?”

  He stared up at me, turquoise eyes so mournful, a breath caught in my throat. After a moment, he murmured, “To usurp the King of Old Pampas, and the Queen of the Midas Islands. To b
uild a facility for dragons, and help the spriggan transport the eggs out of Mount Fornax.”

  “That’s four,” I replied. “What are the other two?”

  “It said it would save the last one for the right moment.”

  “Then what was the fifth favor?”

  King Magnar’s gaze dropped. Curling his shoulders forward and bending his neck, he clutched his hands so tight, the knuckles blanched. His body remained unmoving, the only signs of life his heavy breathing.

  I rubbed my sore temples. Something told me that this next favor would be worse than any the spriggan had demanded so far. Gulping, I sucked in a steadying breath. While I hated King Magnar for all the terrible things he had done, he’d been trying to save his sisters and had made the boon out of desperation. Whatever he said next, I would try not to react.

  “T-the spriggan.” He cleared his throat and lifted his head, features hardened with resolve. “The spriggan ordered me to bring you to the Savannah Empire.”

  The words hit me like a boulder to the gut. I gasped, spine jerking forward. Nausea crawled up my gullet, warm and putrid and thick with betrayal. “That’s why you came here!”

  “But I have a plan.”

  “I’m not interested.” I staggered backward to the exit.

  He shot to his feet. “Princess Alba, please!”

  “If you think I’m going to hand myself over to become the possession of a spriggan, you’re crazy.” Ignoring his pleas for me to stay, I pushed the door open and stormed out into the courtyard, breathing hard.

  My foot caught on a large, body-shaped object. I tripped and fell forward, holding my palms out to protect my face.

  “Ugh,” said a familiar voice as I hit the ground.

  At my side lay a male with transparent skin. It wasn’t until I noticed the cadet’s uniform, short, toffee-colored hair and hazel eyes that I realized I knew this person.

  “Stafford!”

  Chapter 12

  I reared back, my gaze stuck on my friend. Red muscle fibers twisted across his face in a rictus of agony, and bloodshot eyes rolled back into bony sockets. The sight of all that exposed flesh combined with the rasp of his labored breaths made my hair stand on end. Stafford hadn’t yet bonded with a dragon. How could he get the symptoms of clearscale?

  Roseate’s malicious words tumbled to the forefront of my mind. She had said my condition was contagious. Perhaps she was right.

  “Stafford?” I pushed myself off the floor and shuffled to his side.

  Beads of sweat glistened on his exposed flesh. “It... hurts...”

  “I’ll get you to Dr. Duclair.” Positioning myself on my knees, I hooked one arm under his back and the other under his legs and pulled myself up.

  One benefit to being a quarter-ogre was physical strength, but Stafford shifted in my arms, slipping from my grip. He was too big and too sick to wrap his arms around my neck. I stood him upright and bent him over my shoulder. Then I raced around the back of the jailhouse, and across the lawn.

  The Healer’s Academy lay straight ahead, beyond the Great Lake. I jogged on the soft grass, keeping my footsteps as gentle as possible, so as not to jostle Stafford and exacerbate his pain. From all directions, people carried sick colleagues. Witches hovered piles of dragon warriors toward the Healer’s Academy. My foot caught a rock, and I stumbled forward, making Stafford bounce.

  A deep, pained moan reverberated against my back. Heart twisting, I lightened my footsteps. “Sorry! It looks like you’re not the only one who got sick.”

  “Wha...?”

  At the gates, Roseate ushered people inside. Next to her stood a tall, copper-skinned witch whose hair reminded me of Master Solum's. As soon as her gaze landed on me, Roseate bared her teeth. “You!”

  I bristled. Of all the times to reignite her petty grudge! Couldn’t she put it on hold until after the crisis? She pointed her staff, as though daring me to step forward and get cursed.

  As much as I wanted to leap forward and knock it out of her hand, I couldn't risk her turning us both away. Instead, I raised my chin. “I found Stafford like this outside the jailhouse. He needs help.”

  “Stay away!" she screeched. "You’re the one who transferred the plague to the ogres. Now everybody’s sick.”

  The dark-skinned witch's eyebrows rose, and a pair of dragon grooms carrying a colleague over each shoulder stopped to gape.

  My insides cringed. I dipped my head, casting furtive glances at the warriors and witches.

  “Plague spreader!” shouted Roseate.

  I ground my teeth. “If I was contagious, then Madam Duclair wouldn't have discharged me.”

  “Enough bickering, you two,” snapped the second witch. “Place him on the lawn with the others.”

  I glanced over her shoulder. The witches levitated unconscious, skinless warriors across the herb gardens and laid them on the chamomile lawn. I clutched Stafford's back. There was no way I could leave my best friend outside in the heat.

  A pair of half-ogres sprinted through the gates, hands clasped, arms extended like stretchers. They carried a pile of unconscious warriors and chefs. Roseate and the other witch used their magic to separate the males. I took advantage of the distraction and sprinted through the Healer's Academy's double doors.

  “Bluford?”

  I turned. Albens stood in the hallway. I asked. “What are you doing here?”

  "My squad contracted clearscale on the way back from locking up King Magnar. I brought them here." He pushed open a door. “My brothers are in this room. There are a couple of spare beds.”

  "Thanks." I stepped into a magically expanded room of white walls and four-dozen cots, most of which were occupied by large males in varying states of distress. One of them wore white leather. “Is that a healer?”

  “The plague is taking us all, even healers.” He walked by my side, shaking his head. “But at least the witches have remained unaffected.”

  At the end of the room lay the drogott team, including Niger. He stared up sightlessly at the ceiling, his long hair fanned out over the pillow. I swallowed hard. Next to him lay Rufus and Gobi, and beyond them, two empty beds.

  I laid Stafford on the bed and took off his boots. Fortunately, his feet were covered in socks, so I didn’t have to look at skinless toes.

  “Have you heard any update on what’s causing the plague?” I pulled the covers over his chest, busying myself with making him comfortable.

  “General Thornicroft is our last hope,” replied Albens. “If he cannot extract the truth from the troll or King Magnar—” His words were interrupted by a thud.

  “Albens!” I rushed over to him, falling onto my knees at his side.

  All the blood in his skin drained away, leaving it as white as chalk. Then, even the white leeched into transparency, exposing the muscles. His features twisted, and he moaned, “Check on the General.”

  Using all my strength, I lifted Albens off the floor and placed him on the bed next to Stafford’s. “I-I’ll find a way to help everyone. I promise!”

  He let out a pained grunt.

  “There’s Bluford!” Roseate stood at the door, flanked by a pair of healer witches. “Somebody grab him. We can use his blood as a cure!”

  The witches at the door paused. One of them turned to Roseate and asked, “What in the Known World are you talking about?”

  I didn’t wait for her to convince the others. With a quick run-up, I leaped out of the open window. My hands and knees landed on the soft lawn, and I rolled sideways. A beam of light shot out, presumably from Roseate’s staff. I pulled myself upright and sprinted down the side of the walled compound. When a beam clipped my shoulder, I jumped down into the next terrace and landed on my feet.

  I picked myself up and jogged around the building, past the half-conscious warriors laid out on the lawn, and out of the gates. My heart pounded against my ribcage at double speed. I hurried around the wall until I reached the nearest stair stone.

  “Fyri?”

/>   I checked our bond, but the magic dampening potion made that part of my mind fuzzy. My eyes fluttered shut, and I panted against the wall. How could everything have gone so terribly, and so quickly? Had Dr. Duclair been wrong to have discharged me from the hospital? I couldn’t be the cause of this new bout of dragon plague.

  “Miaow!”

  I glanced up into the trees to find a pair of amber cat eyes staring down at me. “Have you seen General Thornicroft in the past few minutes?”

  The cat nodded.

  “Does he have the plague?”

  The cat shook its head.

  “I need to go to the library to get Evolene.” It felt odd to tell my plans to a cat, even if it was really a dragonet under the magic, but with Roseate stirring up trouble among the witches, I had few allies left. “Watch over General Thornicroft for me, please? If he catches the plague, tell someone.”

  “Miaow.” The cat leaped off the branch, spread its wings, and flew toward the reception area.

  After activating a stair stone, I descended down to a terrace below. The scent of mint filled my nostrils, and I sighed. With no dragonets around to disrupt the mint, it had grown an extra foot, and its stalks reached halfway up my thighs.

  I glanced up at the sky. Thick, gray-tinged clouds formed overhead, casting an ominous shadow over the terrace. They hadn’t been here while I’d followed Albens and the other mages. Hurrying through the long stalks of dragon mint, I hoped this unusual weather wasn’t related to the plague spreading across all the males.

  Noises overhead broke me out of my speculations, and I dashed through a door leading to the mountain interior. Down the darkened hallway, a quartet of witches approached, hovering a giant pile of males, many of whom wore cadet uniforms.

  I continued toward them, checking the males for anyone I recognized. “Where did you find all of them?”

  A spindly, gray-haired witch eyed me. “The library. And you’d better come with us. Males everywhere are collapsing with the dragon plague.”

  “Umm…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s all right, thanks.”

  “If you catch it and fall somewhere strange, you might not be found.”