Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  “Do you have any ideas of who did this?” I asked.

  “The most likely culprit is King Magnar, but such alchemical skill requires decades of study and practice.”

  “Could a spriggan have made the elixirs?”

  The troll tilted its head to the side. “It’s possible, but unlikely.”

  Evolene uncorked the vial of willow tree tincture and handed it to me. I swallowed it in one leafy gulp then held out my hand for the yellow vial. She removed the cork, releasing a loud fizz and a citrusy scent, and I took my time coating the liquid over my tongue.

  All signs of tiredness vanished, and I pulled my shoulders back and asked, “How can I help?”

  Master Jesper scribbled down a few items onto a piece of parchment. “While you were resting, Madam Evolene gave me an idea for the perfection of my alkahest.”

  “Isn’t that the name of a group of rogue alchemists?” I asked.

  “An alkahest is a universal solvent. It took me years to develop, but it’s only effective against certain alchemical toxins. It’s the gold, you see. It’s extremely rare and expensive.”

  “But I suggested using Golden Callisti apples!” said Evolene.

  “What?”

  “It’s the only item we didn’t find in the stores.” She turned, spreading her arms wide, showing me a table they’d set up on the other side of the room. Beakers and flasks and vials littered its surface, as did a cauldron, stands and pipes used in distilling alcohol.

  “Right.” I pushed myself to my feet. “I’ll get some apples. How many do you want?”

  “As many as you can carry.” Evolene reached into a sack and pulled out a sheet. She held it up in the air and shaped it into a hooded cloak. Then Master Jesper bathed it with red magic. After giving it an appraising look, she held it out to me. “There. You can put this on.”

  “All right. What does this cloak do?”

  “It masks smell, sound, heat, and magic,” said Master Jesper. “Don’t take it off until you return, or you will be visible to the homunculi.”

  I took the cloak and placed it on my head. The fabric molded around my form like the latex used in Madam Skinner’s outfitters. I glance down at my invisible body and gave myself a nod of satisfaction. “Won’t I look strange carrying around a huge sack of apples?”

  Master Jesper handed me something invisible. “We thought of that already!”

  I reached out and wrapped my fingers around something made of hessian. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  Navigating through the deserted Healer’s Academy reminded me of the horror scrolls I sometimes read in my lonely days at the Magical Militia Academy. The damsel would walk through the house of her sinister new husband, heading towards the door of a forbidden room and holding a key she’d been told never to use.

  Dim lights shone from wall sconces, casting long shadows over the polished, black-and-white tiled floor. A pair of faceless homunculi emerged from around a corner, both sweeping their accursed staffs over the ground. I stood in a doorway, heart thundering, and holding my hands over my mouth.

  Behind me echoed the low, rasping breaths of warriors crammed into expanded rooms. The sounds mixed with the dragging footsteps of the approaching homunculi.

  “Where did they go?” asked a rough voice.

  I clapped both hands over my mouth, waiting for the homunculi to pass. They had both formed slimy gashes for mouths, which made me think more than one master could be behind the monstrosities.

  “They might have killed the troll.” Black tufts sprouted from the top of its head.

  “The troll might have killed them instead,” replied the homunculus with two ginger strands.

  “It’s doubtful. Jesper is notorious for not hurting others, even in self-defense.”

  “A pity.”

  Their rancid, vinegary scent seeped through my fingers and invaded my nostrils, making my eyes water. As the homunculi passed, the warmth of their bodies radiated through my invisibility cloak, making my stomach turn.

  On legs that trembled so hard, I thought they would collapse, I followed them at a distance to the double doors leading to the walled garden. One of them opened the door for the other, and I slipped out into the night.

  Inhaling lungfuls of fresh air tinged with a campfire scent, I edged past them and strode as carefully as I could through the chamomile lawn. The cloak cushioned my footsteps, but it wouldn’t stop my feet from tripping and catching on a twig.

  “Best to send a few ’muncs to the mess hall,” said a homunculus from behind. “They will venture there next.”

  I swallowed back a snort, sending them a silent word of thanks. At least I knew where to avoid!

  Another pair of faceless homunculi stood at the gates, looking out toward the Great Lake. I eased past them, trying not to disturb the air with my movements.

  I dashed across the lawn. Moonlight seeped through streaks of dark clouds, my only guiding light. It cast a wide, rippling reflection over the Great Lake, but it was bright enough for me to discern the shapes of the trees. The Golden Callisti trees lay on the far left of the lawn, but as I searched for their silhouettes in the distance, they were gone. When I jogged closer, I understood why.

  Where once a grove of Golden Callisti apple trees stood, there was now the extinguished remains of a bonfire. My feet made an abrupt stop. Someone had destroyed the apple trees! Despair hit me across the belly like the blow of an ax, and I stumbled forward, catching myself before I fell.

  Every last hope combusted into the ether. How could the homunculi have known I would look for Golden Callisti apple trees unless they’d overheard Evolene talking to Master Jesper?

  There were other apple trees on the grounds. I’d seen them glinting in the sun from Fyrian’s back during flying lessons. But where were they? I stepped back, and a twig cracked underfoot.

  A pale, bald head emerged from a staircase on my left. It belonged to the black-haired homunculus! “Henri, is that you?”

  Panic exploded across my chest, making me turn around and bolt. I sprinted over the lawn, panting hard. What should I do next? The apples I’d seen during flying class had been beyond the terraces—too far for me to venture out on foot.

  Sweat poured down my brow, but I didn’t dare jostle the cloak to wipe it off. I reached a grove of oaks and leaned against a trunk, panting hard. Where else might I find apples? I closed my eyes, thinking hard. Eyepatch had brought us golden apple porridge this morning. The apple peels would still be in the kitchens!

  My gaze darted toward a stair stone at the end of the grove. Activating it would alert the homunculi of my presence. Instead, I hurried to the edge, where one of the trees’ roots stretched down to the next terrace.

  A pair of homunculi approached, holding long, pointed sticks. As soon as they reached my grove, glowing eyes emerged from their blank faces. They swept their heads from left to right, casting streams of eerie light over the ground.

  There was no way I would wait to discover what those eyes would do if they hit me. I scrambled off the edge of the terrace, using the roots as my ladder. The moment my feet hit the ground, I exhaled the longest sigh of relief. I dashed around to find another tree growing close to the edge of the terrace and climbed down to the level of the mess hall.

  Long stems of dragon mint grew on this terrace, filling the air with a sweet, menthol scent. I closed my eyes, welcoming the respite from those wretched homunculi. Rubbing my temples, I lowered myself to the ground and sat. What did I know about the situation?

  Someone had distributed three different types of poison to distract them from having dosed everyone in Mount Fornax with a loyalty elixir.

  The dragons had become inexplicably concerned with the safety of King Magnar… and his sisters.

  Whoever was behind the plague had created homunculi to track down and murder Master Jesper and anyone who hadn’t succumbed to the elixirs.

  Some homunculi needed to communicate with each other, suggesting that they ha
d at least two masters in separate locations.

  Somehow, they had predicted that Master Jesper would need Golden Callisti apples for the cure, so they burned down the apple trees.

  King Magnar’s sisters were hostages of the spriggan, who needed dragons or their eggs to free its master, the Forgotten King.

  I ground my teeth. Who else in the Known World so desperately needed the might of dragons to fight his battles? He’d admitted as such when he said he wanted an alliance with them by marriage to me! I pushed myself up, clenched my fists, and hurried along the terrace. All thoughts of retribution could wait. Right now, I needed to find those apple peels, so Master Jesper could make the cure.

  “Someone is coming,” said a voice.

  I leaned against the grassy wall and waited.

  “Did they activate the trip wire?” asked the other.

  “Not yet.”

  My gaze went straight to the ground. This stretch of terrace consisted of short grass, and I couldn’t see any wires… yet. I continued along, keeping my knees high to avoid any invisible traps. After a few terraces, my thigh muscles burned with the effort. Since the voices didn’t announce my tripping of the wire, it was worth the pain.

  By the time I reached the mess hall, I was ready to kick a homunculus in the gut with those aching thighs. I held my face to the magical barrier, squinting into the darkened room. Half a dozen warriors lay slumped over the tables, a few of them conscious enough to moan. Homunculi surrounded the males, each holding weapons.

  “False alarm,” said one.

  “I wish they’d stop making noise,” muttered another.

  Their lamplight eyes and gash-like mouths melted back into their faces, leaving them blank.

  My lip curled. The masters behind those monstrosities could place their consciousness into any homunculus at any time, giving them the power of near omnipotence. To me, they were cowards who could only fight behind proxies, and when I found their real location, no amount of homunculi would save them from my Parched Sword.

  I stepped through the barrier, scanning the perimeter of the mess hall. After all the meals I’d enjoyed here, I’d never bothered to learn the location of the witches’ dining room. Straight ahead stood a pair of doors that led to the hallway. The single door on the left led to a cleaning cupboard. On the right, behind Eyepatch’s tureen of congealed bloodwurst porridge, stood another door.

  That had to lead to the kitchen. It was where Eyepatch had disappeared when he’d mentioned the apple porridge served to the witches.

  “Kill them if they’re too much of a distraction,” said one of the homunculi.

  My eyes bulged, and a breath caught in my throat. If I destroyed the homunculi to protect the unconscious warriors, more would follow. But I couldn’t do nothing. Somehow, I had to lead them on a false trail.

  I reached into my cloak and pulled a dagger from my belt, then I threw it down near the barrier. It clacked against the floor and skidded out into the terrace.

  The homunculi all turned toward the noise. A pair of them walked toward me, their eyes shining. I stood as still as a slab of sandstone, hoping the invisibility of my cloak still held. When the homunculi stepped out into the terrace, I trailed after them.

  They stood over the dagger. One of them said, “It looks like they dropped this in their haste to escape.”

  The other turned its glowing eyes in my direction. “They could have gone anywhere. Let’s send more ’muncs to the orchard terraces on the other side of the waterfalls.”

  Ten homunculi streamed out of the mess hall, and my heart sank. They would destroy another source of Golden Callisti apples. I let out a shuddering breath. It was too late to worry about that now.

  The kitchen stretched nearly as wide as the mess hall and contained an eight-foot-tall fireplace holding massive spits and cauldrons. A sink, long enough to accommodate a dozen men working side-by-side, stretched along one wall, and tables stretched along the others.

  Unconscious males littered the floors. They were half-ogres whose skin had turned transparent, and I checked on them to make sure they hadn’t fallen on their own knives. A little whimper sounded from under a table, and I knelt to see who could still be conscious.

  It was Eyepatch, clutching a meat cleaver. “S-stay away! I-I’m armed and desperate.”

  “Where are the Golden Callisti apples?” I whispered.

  “What’s that, now?”

  “Ssssh!” I glanced at the door. “Keep your voice down, or those things outside will come in and investigate.”

  He nodded, eye widening. Then he pointed at a basket. “There’s some apples in there.”

  “And the peels?”

  He pointed at a box. “We keep them to sell to the apothecary. There’s some apple compote left from breakfast, if you’d like it. I-I know you left your porridge because you got upset about that cat.”

  I swallowed down a lump in my throat. Even now, Eyepatch wanted to make sure I was well fed. “Thank you. I’d better go. The others need these ingredients.”

  Opening the invisible bag, I headed toward the basket of apples.

  Eyepatch crawled out from under the table. “W-wait! What’s happening?”

  “Hold tight.” I gave him a pat on the arm. “I’ll get these to the others, and they’ll make a cure. It’ll be safe for you to come out soon.”

  Chapter 17

  With my invisible sack laden with Golden Callisti apples and their peels, I raced through the night toward the Healer’s Academy building. Clouds covered the moon, casting the lawn and Great Lake into darkness. At times like this, I missed the dragon moths and the illumination they provided with their glowing wings. Faint lights of the Academy building guided my path, and I hurried through the gates, heart racing and full of hope that Master Jesper would cure the plague.

  With as much stealth as I could muster, I slipped through the double doors and crept through the hallways. I opened the laboratory door a few inches. At the end of the room, Master Jesper levitated a bucket-sized crucible into a glowing vat. It reminded me somewhat of a blacksmith’s forge. I stepped inside, and the troll raised its head.

  Master Jesper beamed. “You have the apples?”

  “Sort of.” I glanced at the corner where they’d laid General Thornicroft, who still slumbered in his healing bubble.

  At the table, a cone-shaped flask simmered over a naked flame, its vapors streaming into a set of curving pipes. Evolene waved a pencil-sized staff above the apparatus, cooling the vapor into fluorescent yellow liquid. It dripped into a round-bottom flask, which hovered over an alchemical diagram comprising of a complex mix of circles, squares, and a single five-pointed star.

  Evolene glanced up. “What do you mean?”

  “All the Golden callisti trees on the surface were burned down. They knew you wanted them.”

  The troll furrowed its brow. “Oh, dear. This will set us back a few days. I suppose we’ll focus on dismantling the binding elixir—”

  “I found a few apples and lots of peels,” the words tumbled out of my mouth. “Will that work?”

  “It depends on their level of decomposition,” the troll replied.

  I opened the bag, and Evolene levitated its contents out. Master Jesper opened the box and examined the apple peels. “Not bad. There should be enough specimens to produce a dose of alkahest for one full-grown dragon and a pair of ogre-hybrids.”

  “Can we wake Dr. Duclair?” I asked.

  The troll sighed and shook its head. “I’m still working on the witches’ solution. Their magic is rather volatile, and I haven’t yet identified which adjustments are required for the alkahest.”

  “Can we wake Stafford?” asked Evolene.

  “Him and another person. Master Jesper glanced at me. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  I rubbed my chin. Stafford would have also been my first choice, as he was my best friend, and I’d promised to include him in all my adventures. Rufus was clever, trustworthy and dependable, bu
t he tended not to take risks. I was better friends with his older brother.

  “Let’s wake Niger.”

  Jesper nodded. “May I suggest we give Master Fosco the first dragon elixir?”

  I shook my head. “Fyrian needs to get it.”

  “Your dragon?”

  I nodded.

  The troll furrowed its brow. “From my understanding, she is young and untested in battle. On the other hand, Master Fosco fought successfully in the Great Dragon Revolution and has talents that would be useful in a battle against alchemists.”

  I folded my arms. “No. Fyrian and I are linked. As soon as the willow tincture wears off, I’ll be in pain again. We need to heal her first.”

  Evolene took a step toward me. “But Master Fosco—”

  “Fyrian’s the only dragon who can communicate with me over a distance, and we don’t even know Master Fosco’s dragon form.”

  Evolene and Master Jesper both gaped at me as if I’d told them that I was a dragon, too. It was Evolene who spoke first. “He’s the purple dragon in all the portraits with Queen Cendrilla.”

  I clapped my hand over my mouth. Master Fosco was Fogo? I blinked hard, mind whirling. Everything made sense. His obsession with Aunt Cendrilla, his rivalry with Father, even that odd scene where she had lain on his lap in the royal carriage. They were bonded just like Fyrian and me!

  Why didn’t the wretched master dragon speak up for me during my disciplinary hearing? He’d fought King Magnar’s army right at my side and had even seen the spriggan. I clenched my fists. He probably wanted me to remain expelled.

  “Cadet Bluford?” asked Master Jesper.

  “Right... well, I don’t know where he fell.” The words tumbled out of my mouth. It didn’t matter that Master Fosco was Aunt Cendrilla’s dragon, I wanted Fyrian cured first. “He could be anywhere, but I know where Fyrian is. And if I need to go into battle, it has to be with a dragon who actually listens to me.”

  “Fyrian is battle tested,” said Evolene. “She helped rescue stolen eggs from the spriggans.”

  Master Jesper let out a long breath. “I will trust your judgment, children. The first batch of alkahest will take four hours to complete. Madam Evolene, please rest. You, too, Cadet Bluford.”