Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  Evolene leaned around me and handed him two vials. “One drop on the skin is enough, but if you can put a vial in the water supply, that would be even better.”

  “Excellent work, Evolene!” he cried.

  I suppressed a sigh. Was it too much for him to ever acknowledge anything I’d done right? “We’re looking for a way to spray it on everyone.”

  “I will help as many as I can. Good luck, children.” He swung his legs to the side and dove off Fyrian’s back.

  “What is he doing?” I shouted.

  “If Phoenix doesn’t appear to catch him, he can always transform.” Fyrian glanced over her shoulder. “The reds are gaining on us. We need to share power, now!”

  I opened our connection. Fyrian’s fire magic seeped through, and I pushed as much of my own magic into her. We sped up into the skies with the red dragons on our tail. Every so often, a purple dragon would appear out of nowhere, trying to snatch us off Fyrian’s back, but she either rolled or dropped out of the sky, just as we had practiced with Captain Caiman.

  Evolene curled into herself and made a hacking noise like she was going to be sick. My stomach churned in sympathy. “Are you all right?”

  “I-it’s a bit fast.”

  Albens appeared standing on his purple dragon, swinging over his head what I could only describe as a fiery lasso. “Traitor! His Majesty wants you captured alive, but he did not say unhurt.”

  My stomach plummeted. “Evolene!”

  “W-what?”

  “We need a fireproof barrier. Now!”

  “Eek!” Magic shot out of her staff just in time to create a transparent dome.

  Flames spread across its surface in a single blaze that petered out as quickly as it flared. It didn’t stop me from ducking and wrapping my arms around Evolene.

  Fyrian raised her head and continued up towards the thickening clouds. “We might lose them up here.”

  “But we won’t be able to breathe!”

  “Can Evolene do something?” Fyrian asked.

  “She’s under enough pressure as it is creating magical barriers, and I think she’s going to be sick.”

  Fyrian let out a roar of outrage. “Not on my scales, she isn’t!”

  Albens didn’t reappear. I hoped it was because he was unwilling to follow us at so high an altitude. It was unlikely. A hardened warrior like him was probably fetching a weapon to break through witch magic. As Fyrian continued upward, a small figure darted in and out of the clouds. From its size, I would have guessed it was the flying cat, but its shape was too birdlike.

  I tapped Evolene on the shoulder. “Do you know what that is?”

  “The weathervane.”

  “Really?” I patted Fyrian on the back. “Follow that bird. I have an idea.”

  Chapter 21

  I pushed as much power as I could into my bond with Fyrian. She flew towards the weathervane, her wings slicing the air like blades. If she could catch the magical bird, I could stick the vials of elixir down its throat and make it rain.

  Evolene quaked at my front, and I wrapped a comforting arm around her middle. “Keep breathing. It’s the best way to calm our stomach.”

  “A-an anti-nausea enchantment will help,” she replied. “I’ll do it as soon as I catch my breath.”

  I glanced around for signs of purple dragons. “If I were you, I wouldn’t wait. You’ll never know when Albens will return.”

  Ducking her head, she nodded and whispered an enchantment.

  My own stomach settled, and I exhaled all the tension in my gut with one outward breath. “That was great. Thanks.”

  She gave me a whimper of acknowledgment and clutched her staff so tight, her knuckles went white. I furrowed my brows. Could she be afraid of heights? The weathervane looped past, taking on the shape of a giant albatross that appeared and disappeared in and out of the crowds.

  “Get it, Fyri!”

  “Right!”

  I gave Evolene’s shoulder a squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

  “I-I’ve never seen Phoenix look so angry! He’s barely talked to me since I returned from the Magical Militia, but that look he gave me was terrible.”

  “He’s not himself right now.” I made sure to avoid the subject of the deception she and her father had committed that nearly got Fyrian killed. Phoenix probably felt betrayed by a friend.

  Her shoulders rose and fell. “B-but still…”

  “Master Fosco would have caught up with him by now and given him the antidote. It’s really powerful. Those alchemists knew what they were doing.” Fyrian moved so fast, the wind rushed in my ears. I had to raise my voice to hear myself.

  She ducked her head.

  “How did you catch the weathervane last time?” I asked.

  “Niger skewered it with the tip of his halberd,” she said. “Don’t try it. The bird shot lightning out at him and nearly knocked him out of the sky. If it wasn’t for the soles of his boots being charmed to stay on a dragon, he might have died.”

  I grimaced. “Why did Niger have to catch the weathervane with a weapon?”

  “Neither of us knew enough about agricultural magic to change its path.”

  “Is there anything you can do to slow it down?”

  “Ummm…” As she considered, the weathervane dove down from the clouds, spiraled and shot back up. “Block its path?”

  “Great. What can you conjure up?”

  Albens and his purple dragon burst through the clouds and glided toward us. This time, he carried a net weighted by little, white stones. I reared back. “Gravestone! He’s trying to neutralize your magic.”

  “Leave the pest to me!” said Fyrian.

  Regiis and Albus swerved left. He held the net in both hands, twisted his body, and was about to fling it at us when Fyrian turned her head and spat a mouthful of venom at him. It spattered on the net and the front of his uniform.

  “Bluford!” he snarled.

  I clenched my teeth. “Fyri, when you see the weathervane, can you make a cloud of venom like you did in the tournament?”

  “Sure.”

  “Evolene, as soon as Fyrian makes venom, can you push it to the weathervane?”

  “Y-yes.”

  Fyrian sped across the skies, while I kept watch for the weathervane. A rapier red snapped at her tail. Fyrian snarled and whacked the little dragon across the face.

  The albatross glided beneath the skies, its wings outreached. Fyrian blew out her venom, and Evolene directed the liquid’s movement with her staff. Heartbeats later, the albatross became engulfed in green vapor.

  “What now?” asked Fyrian.

  “Set it alight.”

  She drew back her head and blew out a stream of fire. A huge sizzle filled the air, and the pristine white wings of the weathervane went up in flames. The clouds darkened, and the bird drew in its featherless wings and plummeted.

  “Was that supposed to happen?” asked Fyrian.

  “No, but let’s follow it.”

  Fyrian dove after the bird. A rapier red tried to ram into her side, and she rolled, missing the smaller dragon by inches. I ducked, but its leathery wing brushed against my head. Evolene shot out her magic, creating a barrier, but it didn’t stop the heat of the dragons’ flames from reaching us.

  “Oh, no!” cried Fyrian.

  “What’s happened now?”

  A sunbird soared past, spreading its plumage of orange flames.

  “What was that?” I blinked twice to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the light. The bird looked like a fireball heading towards the black clouds.

  Evolene cried out. “I-is that the weathervane?”

  “Did it turn to flames the last time someone set it on fire?” I asked.

  “We only skewered it with a halberd!” shouted Evolene.

  I shifted in my seat. “How else was I supposed to stop it without getting struck by lightning?”

  She didn’t reply. I patted Fyrian on the neck. “Follow it.”

  Although she t
urned around, she asked, “Are you sure?”

  A red dragon caught up with us and blew fire at Fyrian’s tail. She whirled around and sprayed venom in its face. The dragon opened its jaws and roared loud enough to vibrate my eardrums.

  I pushed more of my power into the bond. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Fyrian shot after the weathervane, which made a direct course for the black clouds. Flames danced on the bird’s body, and sparks rained down from where it flapped its fiery wings. Memories of her display in King Magnar’s tournament rolled to the front of my mind, and I clenched my teeth. Something in the pit of my stomach told me that if the weathervane reached the clouds, it would rain fire.

  I grabbed Evolene’s shoulder. “Can you shoot water at it?”

  “Ummm…” She pointed her staff at the weathervane and shot a jet of water from its crystal tip.

  I squinted up. The weathervane’s tail feathers sizzled, and it stopped flapping its wings.

  “More!”

  Fyrian caught up with the weathervane, and Evolene directed more water at the bird. At first, the flames soaked in the moisture and let out billows of steam. But as she drenched the magical bird, the steam increased to the size of a small cloud. My back straightened. This was it! I pulled a vial out of my pocket, ready to throw it into the weathervane as soon as I found an opening.

  A hiss filled the air. It started off as soft as a breeze and picked up volume.

  I nudged Evolene. “Stop the water for a second. If we get a chance, let’s direct the vials into its mouth.”

  When the jet eased off, and the steam cleared, the weathervane floated in mid-air, stretching out its legs and wings as though for balance. Its skin reminded me of a thin, black crust splitting over a body of moving lava. The bird’s eyes burned the color of flames.

  “Y-you’ve made it angry now!” cried Fyrian.

  The weathervane opened its mighty beak and let out an almighty squawk.

  My ears rang. My bones shook, and my blood turned to ice. But somehow, I managed to fling my vials at the bird, “Now, Evolene!”

  Evolene directed the vials of elixir directly into the bird’s gullet. A gut-wrenching, gurgling sounded from deep within the weathervane’s gut, and a white vapor streamed out of its beak.

  “Is that supposed to happen?” asked Fyrian.

  “Let’s not stick around to find out.”

  Before I’d finished my sentence, Fyrian had already plummeted toward the mountain’s surface. I turned around to check on the weathervane’s progress. The burnt covering over its wings turned to smoke and then to a downy, featherless fluff that couldn’t support flight. More and more of the vapor streamed out of the bird, from its beak, its eyes, the tips of its wings—and mingled with the clouds. I held my breath. If this didn’t result in the antidote raining down from the skies, then civil war would likely break out in Mount Fornax.

  Behind us, the red dragons continued their pursuit, but we were moving so fast, their attacks didn’t hit. I turned my head. “Come on… rain!”

  “GRAWK!”

  I glanced up to see the fattened weathervane plummeting after us. It tried to stay airborne, flapping wings far too stubby for its body, but it was a futile effort. It picked up speed as it fell, widening like a storm cloud gathering mass.

  “Level out, Fyri, the weathervane is falling on our heads.”

  She raised her chin, spread her arms and glided a hundred feet above the Great Lake.

  Instead of dropping like an anchor into the water, the weathervane followed us.

  I snarled. “What is it doing?”

  “Lance it with something!” shouted Evolene. “That worked for Niger.”

  I picked up the Slowsilver Sword and pushed my power through its hilt until white lightning-fire crackled along its blade. Unlike the Parched Sword, the Slowsilver’s attack didn’t stretch more than a few inches. I threw the sword at the weathervane, aiming for its distended belly. My sword spun through the air, making its trajectory toward the bird’s breast. I held my breath, waiting for the impact.

  Just before its sharp tip met its target, the wretched weathervane swerved to the side. The Slowsilver Sword spun past and fell toward the Great Lake.

  “What?” I snarled.

  “Hold on!” Evolene steadied her staff and shot my falling sword with magic, making it double back and lance the weathervane through the back.

  “Ha!” I clenched my fist. “Take that!”

  For a moment, the bird stilled, its beak agape. Then its eyes bulged and rolled in their sockets. White lightning sparked behind its back, covering its downy plumage.

  My stomach dropped. It was about to transform into something worse. “Fyri, we should—”

  BOOM!

  An explosion of wind and thunder and lightning sent Fyrian hurtling on a downward spiral toward the surface of the mountain.

  We moved at break-neck speed, so fast, every ounce of blood drained from my face, and my heart stopped working. “W-what’s wrong?” I gripped one of her neck ridges. “Fyri!”

  “M-my right wing! I can’t move it!”

  “The d-dandedragons… Evolene!”

  “What?”

  “Age the flowers into seed heads!”

  “A-all right!” she pointed her staff at the garland of flowers woven around Fyrian’s mane of horns.

  Magic flashed, and time moved as slowly as a sycamore seed falling to the ground. The yellow petals woven into Fyrian’s horns curled into themselves until the green leaves at the base of the flowerhead formed a tight bud. Fyrian’s fall accelerated, bringing the lake’s surface into terrifying focus.

  I cursed under my breath. I should have gotten Evolene to fix her broken wing!

  As I turned to ask, feathery white stalks burst through the buds, each ending in a burst of parasol-like tendrils.

  Fyrian hung in the air for a second before floating down. For several moments, neither of us moved or spoke. But my heart spasmed in my chest, the first sign that we had actually survived the fall.

  I exhaled a long sigh of relief.

  “It worked!” cried Evolene.

  “Fyri, how’s your wing?” I asked.

  “I-it hurts,” she replied in a small voice. “I think it’s dislocated, like what Gobi did to your arm.”

  I winced. “Sorry. I didn’t think the weathervane would explode like that.”

  “N-neither did I.”

  “Can Fyrian move her other wing?” asked Evolene. “She might be able to steer us to a soft landing space.”

  “That’s a good idea, but I don’t want to move my head in case I break the dandedragons.”

  “Use my eyes, Fyri.” I clung to her back and stared down at the mountain’s surface. A group of males stared up at us from the banks of the Great Lake. From this distance, it was hard to tell who they were, but I hoped they’d been dosed with the elixir.

  Dragons flew around us, but not too close to cause the dandedragon seeds to fly away and none tried to attack or lift us off Fyrian’s back. They could probably tell that we were helping her land safely.

  Just as we were about to land, a gust of wind caught Fyrian’s outstretched wing and blew her off-course. Swirling, gray clouds reflected off the surface of the Great Lake. White stalks flew off the seed head, and we sank several feet through the air.

  I groaned. “Fyri, keep flapping!”

  “Oh, no!” cried Evolene.

  “A-Alba… Jump and save yourselves!”

  “No!” I turned to Evolene. “Can’t we—”

  Talons wrapped around my torso, lifting us both off Fyrian’s back. The movement was enough to dislodge most of the dandedragon seeds

  I screamed watching my poor dragon plummet.

  SPLASH!

  Fyrian sank into the Great Lake like a boulder, leaving only the dandedragon seed heads floating on the surface of the water.

  My heart tore into two pieces. “NO!”

  Evolene sobbed. “Fyrian!”

 
I closed my eyes and reached into our bond. Cold terror flooded my senses. The pain of her broken wing weakened her left front leg, but she thrashed with all her might under the weight of the water. No matter what she did, it kept pulling her down.

  My entire throat closed up, and despair threatened to drown me, just as the lake was trying to drown Fyrian. If I didn’t push through those feelings and help her now, she would die, and I would die with her.

  “H-hold on, Fyrian!” I cried.

  “I-I can’t!”

  I pushed every ounce of power through our bond, but it wasn’t enough. The lake water swirled around her limbs like liquid vices, holding her captive. A sob ripped from my throat. She couldn’t die. Not now. Not like this! I pushed through our shared memories, every ounce of love I had for Fyrian. She was my closest friend. My bondmate. I couldn’t lose her!

  The talons released me. I landed on my hands and feet on the grassy banks of the Great Lake and scrambled toward Fyrian.

  A meaty hand wrapped around my bicep and hoisted me upright. “There she is…” said a rough voice. “The Traitor Princess. What shall we do with her?”

  Chapter 22

  I couldn’t see who had grabbed me, as tears clouded my vision. I couldn’t defend myself with fire, because I’d pushed all my magic into our bond, so that Fyrian could have a fighting chance. As much as I struggled against the male holding me, his grip held like iron.

  “Let go,” I cried. “M-my d-dragon!”

  “Your Majesty!” bellowed the warrior who wouldn’t release my arm. “I’ve got her.”

  “Well done, Captain,” said King Magnar. He shoved a handkerchief into my hands. “Do tidy yourself up. It’s your wedding day.”

  The words were a cold, callous, slap across the face. I reared back, heart thudding. “Fyrian’s fighting for her life under the Great Lake, and all you can do is think of marriage?”

  He flicked a dismissive hand. “My blue dragons are nudging her out. Fyrian is also needed for the war effort.”

  Another rough hand spun me around. The surface of the lake darkened and rippled, then Fyrian’s head emerged. A turquoise dragon held her up on the left side, and a dragon with duck-egg colored scales supported her on the right. Water poured from her open jaws, and light-gray smoke billowed from her nostrils.