Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  Fyrian and I flew above a crowd of rapier reds that lit up the sky with their streams of fire. Black scorch marks appeared on the bare limestones, where they had missed their target.

  I rested my clenched fists on Fyrian’s neck. If Asproceros continued at this speed, we would leave the dry side of the mountain, where dragon fire would damage the orchards and crops.

  “We’ll have to fly ahead and cut him off,” said Fyrian.

  “Do you need my power?”

  “It’s already flowing to me through the bond,” she replied. “Can’t you feel it?”

  Below us, Asproceros threw an explosive that shot green power at the crowd of rapier reds, causing them to scatter. Some of the powder landed on a group of dragon moths gathered around a cave’s entrance. A frustrated breath surged out of my lungs. “I’ve been too preoccupied to feel anything.”

  Fyrian sucked in a deep breath and lurched forward, overtaking the flying ogre. “He’s about to get the flaming of his life.”

  “Do it.”

  She dipped into a downward loop and blew out a stream of fire, aiming at the tip of the halberd. Asproceros’ black eyes widened, and his mouth fell open, revealing a row of uneven teeth.

  Seconds before the fire hit, the halberd lurched backward.

  “Ha! You will never catch me!” The ogre shook his fist.

  Muti swooped down from behind, his rapier red spitting rapid bursts of fire. The halberd tumbled out of the sky in a downward spiral toward the bare sandstone grounds.

  “You did it!” I shouted.

  “Yes!” Muti raised a fist into the air.

  Fyrian swooped down, ready to land where he fell, but the ogre and his helm-bird reversed, accelerated upward, its sharp, metal tip aiming for her eyes. She spun left, out of its way.

  I snarled. “We have to do something about that stupid halberd.”

  Asproceros leveled out and flew close to the widening terraces where thin patches of desert sage grew from the stone. My heart pounded as hard as a war drum and twice as fast. Trees came into sight up ahead on the mountains.

  “Fyri, can you tell the other dragons to be careful around the crops?”

  “All right, but you know what reds are like,” she replied.

  I grimaced, remembering the time Fyrian and I tried to escape her execution. They were excitable and always eager to chase down dragons in trouble.

  Phoenix appeared in front of Asproceros and blew a stream of flames into his face. As predicted, the halberd flew backward. In the blink of an eye, Phoenix disappeared and reappeared behind the ogre.

  “W-what are you doing?” he bellowed.

  “Yes!” I shouted.

  Phoenix continued the pattern, blocking the ogre at every move and making the halberd lurch up and down, forward and backward, and from side to side. The riders flew in a loose circle overhead and rained down pellets of fire, setting the remnants of Asproceros’ invisibility cloak alight.

  “S-stop,” he cried. “If you continue tormenting me, I will fall out of the sky!”

  “Fyri?” I asked. “Can you see anything happening to his halberd?”

  “There’s a split in the wood,” she replied. “It’s getting longer with every second.”

  “Keep going!” I shouted to Phoenix. “You’ve nearly got him.”

  The ogre’s flying halberd lost altitude, dropping several feet, but Phoenix kept up with his attacks. Fyrian and I flew after them, ready to give chase in case the fall was a trick to get out of the dragons’ range.

  Clouds covered the moon, and his cloak had burned to embers, leaving the only thing visible on Asproceros the whites of his eyes.

  “AAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHH!”

  His halberd plummeted, spinning out of control. Asproceros clutched its wooden shaft and rocked back and forth as though the movement might reignite its magic.

  The clouds thinned, and I locked eyes with the ogre. The features around his horn twisted into a rictus of terror. My throat dried. This was no bluff. I was about to see his end.

  With an almighty thud and a huge cloud of dry air, he hit the ground. The dust still hadn’t settled, so I couldn’t see if he had survived.

  Gulping, I asked, “Is he dead?”

  “He isn’t moving.”

  Fyrian landed several feet away from the fallen ogre by a featureless patch of mountain consisting of bare sandstone. I swung my legs to one side and slid down her foreleg. Dust particles filled the air, obscuring my vision. The sound of four large feet hit the ground on the opposite side of the ogre, and purple scales became visible through the dust. They disappeared, indicating that Phoenix had turned back into a man.

  “It looks like the plan worked,” he said.

  “Y-yes.” I stepped forward, pulse thudding in my throat. Would we find him lying in a pool of blood, his body mangled from the fall? I shook my head. What full ogres lacked in magical power, they made up for in resilience. Asproceros was probably unconscious. Hopefully with a fractured skull.

  “YAAAH!” A massive figure galloped toward me through the dust, broadsword raised above his head.

  “Run!” shouted Fyrian.

  Stepping back, I widened my stance and raised my sword. “It’s too late. He’ll catch me in seconds. I have to fight.”

  Phoenix rushed behind him and bellowed. The ogre stumbled to his feet, clapping a hand over his ear. I pushed my magic into the Parched Sword and sliced a lance of fire at the wrist of his sword arm.

  Asproceros cried out, a gut-wrenching sound accompanied by the clang of his sword hitting the ground.

  “Out of the way,” said Fyrian.

  I jumped aside. Fyrian spat venom into the ogre’s face, coloring his nose-horn green.

  He clapped his hands over his eyes. “What is this?”

  “The most flammable liquid in the Known World,” I said. “If so much as an ember comes close to you, you’ll go up in flames.”

  Foam frothed from the corners of his mouth. “I will kill you.”

  I raised my flaming parched sword. “You’ll have to get through this first, and I still owe you for punching me in the face.”

  The fury twisting his features melted into a blank mask. He stepped back, nearly tripping on a huge rock he must have dislodged from his crash-landing. “W-wait! I can split the proceeds of this job with you. Just turn a blind eye and let me go.”

  “Or I can set you alight and claim the hefty reward on your head.”

  He bared his teeth. “If I die, you will never find the dragonets. They are behind several layers of enchantments in a place you can never conceive. Come with me, and I will lead you to them. Kill or burn me, and they will die of starvation.”

  My mouth fell open. This had to be some kind of bluff. He was probably just saying anything he could to get me to think twice about attacking him. Behind him, dark figures swooped down from the sky.

  The ogre bared his teeth and reached for his fallen sword. Before he could grab it, multiple streams of yellow magic hit the ogre from all angles, encasing him in a penitentiary bubble so thick, I could barely see him.

  “I don’t think so.” Madam Maritimus flew down and landed on the ground beside me, her patchwork cloak settling over her shoulders. The light from the penitentiary bubble reflected on her while hair, making it appear the color of citrea lemons. “But you will lead us to the dragonets and reveal who hired you.”

  Muffled shouts sounded from within the bubble, but this time, a dozen witches stood around it with their staffs raised, giving the enchantment enough power to keep him secure.

  “He’s put the dragonets somewhere they can starve,” I said to the older witch.

  “Remove the silencing,” said Madam Maritimus.

  One of the witches withdrew her magic from the penitentiary bubble. Thunderous bangs echoed from within the magic, drowned out by the ogre’s roars. “Release me, you hags!”

  Madam Maritimus strolled over to the furious ogre. “Where are the dragonets?”

&nb
sp; Asproceros butted at the yellow magic with his horn. “I will gore your guts out and eat you all. Release me!”

  The bubble maintained its integrity, not even bulging with the contact of his horn. I folded my arms, glaring at the ogre’s futile attempts at escape. If he was so tough, why didn’t he break out of the magic and carry out his threats?

  “He’s an idiot,” said Fyrian. “A greedy one, too.”

  Madam Maritimus placed her hands on her hips. “Remove the bubble’s breathable air.”

  Green magic flashed, and Asproceros clutched at his neck, beady eyes bulging. “M-mercy, noble witches, for I will die!”

  “Tell us where you put the dragonets,” she said.

  He dipped to his knees. “A-anything.”

  “Restore the breathable air,”

  With a flare of yellow magic, the ogre rested his hands on his thighs and breathed hard. “Asproceros does not fear death. When I get free of your enchantment, I will eat your entrails with Mount Fornax’s finest chili sauce.”

  “At least we’ve identified the petty thief,” muttered Fyrian.

  “Can I try something?” I asked.

  The older witch shrugged. “If you think you can get answers quicker.”

  “Madam Maritimus,” I said in a loud voice. “D-don’t use ogrebane. It’s illegal!”

  She rolled her eyes. “This is not Steppe, Cadet. In Mount Fornax, the dragons make the rules.”

  Fyrian nodded from where she loomed over the bubble, adding a guttural roar for emphasis.

  “O-ogrebane?” Asproceros glared down at me. “That is inhumane!”

  I spread my arms wide. “If it’s good enough for Her Majesty, it’s good enough for the dragons. Didn’t she use it to destroy Rhinoceros’ body?”

  The ogre bared his crooked teeth. They looked orange in the light of the penitentiary bubble. Although flatter than those of the average ogre, I didn’t doubt that Asproceros’ mighty jaws could snap a human in half. I reached into my jacket pocket, pretending to search for a vial, and his face dropped.

  He crouched down a couple of feet, making eye contact with us both, and a triangular, pink tongue darted out to lick his parched lips. “What do you wish to know?”

  “Where are the dragonets?” asked Madam Maritimus.

  He shook his head. “I will not say.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “You will execute me with ogrebane.”

  I sent the witch an apologetic smile, but she pursed her lips. “If you fear execution, why did you return to the scene of your murder?”

  He straightened and jerked his head to the side as though affronted by the question. I wrinkled my brow. The ogre was trapped and seemingly without a magical artifact. What was the point of making things difficult by refusing to answer a reasonable question?

  Madam Maritimus sighed. “Those of you witches with weak stomachs, look away and please keep your magic trained on the penitentiary bubble. I do not wish to have my leathers splashed with liquid ogre.”

  “No!” he pressed two massive palms against the bubble. “Please, I will tell you anything.”

  Fyrian let out a smoky harrumph. “I ought to flame him for wasting everyone’s time.”

  “Not before he tells us what he did with the dragonets,” I replied.

  “Of course.”

  “Asproceros,” Madam Maritimus snapped. “This is your last chance to speak.”

  “A-all right!” He swiped at the sweat gathering in the groove between his top lip and nose-horn. “But you will hear my story in its entirety before judging. I believe you will understand my plight.”

  I glanced at Fyrian. The slitted pupil in her crimson eyes widened. It looked like neither of us understood what Asproceros meant.

  “If this is a ploy to tire the witches out, it won’t work,” said Madam Maritimus. “And I don’t wish to hear any treasonous complaints about Queen Cendrilla gifting your family lands to the dragons.”

  The ogre’s teeth clacked shut. “All right, but it was not my idea to return here.”

  “Whose was it?” I asked.

  “A group of bounty witches pursued me across Steppe. The Rueppelli sisters.”

  My brows rose. They were seven powerful witches from an offshoot clan of the Noble House of Griffon who carried out secret missions for the Magistratus. If they had set their sights on Asproceros, why hadn’t they caught him?

  The ogre turned his head to the side and leaned it against the bubble. “I crossed the border into the Savannah hills, and they trapped me in an iron maiden and dragged me back, but a dark force stopped their magic.”

  My stomach churned. “Ugh. Spriggans.”

  “That would explain why he’s back,” said Fyrian.

  “Why did this dark force rescue you?” asked Madam Maritimus.

  Asproceros drew back and shook his head. “He was interested in the witches and wanted to hire them.”

  “To what end?” asked the witch.

  The ogre reached into the pocket of his baggy breeches and pulled out a handkerchief the size of one of the flags flying over the Drogott Arena. “One moment, please.” He mopped giant beads of sweat from around his brow. “He offered them their weight in gold for a dozen dragons.”

  “And?” asked Madam Maritimus.

  “They refused.”

  I bit down on my lip. “What happened next?”

  “The dark mage took off his helmet and showed his true face.” The ogre clapped his massive hands over his eyes. “It was horrible!”

  Madam Maritimus leaned forward. “Explain.”

  “A-a baby man.”

  “Like an imp?”

  “Worse. I cannot explain. A baby and old man at the same time.”

  Fyrian and I both shuddered at the memory of the spriggan. It was hard to convey the terror of an aged baby face atop a warrior’s body.

  “He’s stalling for time,” I whispered to the witch. “What if he has a weapon that takes time to power up?”

  “His hands are bare.”

  “It’s in his breeches.”

  Madam Maritimus gave me the most peculiar stare. I raised my brows in question. Asproceros had pulled the broadsword, the helm-bird, and the explosive from the front of his breeches. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume he had stored some other danger down there.

  The ogre moaned. “The baby-man rained boulders down on the witches to punish their insolence. Then he turned to me and asked why I was precious to them.”

  “You offered to steal the dragons in exchange for gold?” asked Madam Maritimus.

  Asproceros bristled. “He promised me the restoration of my Noble House. When his master arises, those who supported his enemies will fall and be replaced by people of his choosing.”

  “Why did you take dragonets if he wanted dragons?”

  “I explained to him my failure with the dragon I tried to poach, and he said he would accept dragonets instead.”

  My heart pounded. Maybe Asproceros could give us information on the spriggan’s tactics. “What did he want to do with them?”

  The ogre shook his head. “I do not know.”

  “How did you pass through the wards?” asked Madam Maritimus.

  “The man who sold me my cloaks told me they offered absolute protection against security magic.”

  “The Sword of Lightning was too good for Jack Galloway,” Fyrian muttered.

  “It’s best that way,” I replied. “That man escaped every other kind of punishment. At least now he can’t cause any more trouble.”

  “He is if you count the artifacts he sold to criminals. What else hadn’t Evolene mentioned?”

  A gray cloud covered the moon, casting us all in darkness. Only a dozen glowing crystals from the witch’s staffs and the magic in the penitentiary bubble provided illumination. I pushed away those thoughts. Asproceros and the spriggans were more than enough to occupy my mind.

  Madam Maritimus placed her hand on the penitentiary bubble. “Thank you for your
answers, but we need to know what you did with the dragonets.”

  “What about the baby-man?,” asked Asproceros. “He said I would die if I failed him.”

  “He is a spriggan. A dark fairy who can’t enter our wards and won’t hurt you.”

  “Y-you promise?”

  She nodded. “I promise.”

  My throat dried, and I glanced at the grim faces of the witches powering the penitentiary bubble. The spriggan wouldn’t punish Asproceros because the ogre wouldn’t leave the wards alive. Master Fosco had placed a heavy bounty on his head and would probably flame the ogre himself for his crimes against Mount Fornax.

  “Where are the dragonets?” asked Madam Maritimus.

  “I placed them in an enchanted sack.”

  “Where?”

  “The breeches.” He pulled at their waistband.

  I shot her a triumphant look, but she missed it.

  “Prove it,” she said.

  He reached into the front of his baggy breeches and pulled out something squirming in a sack.

  Fyrian gasped. “The flying cat just told me it was moving again!”

  “I found this interesting creature on my prowls.” Asproceros pulled out the flying cat by the scruff and held it aloft.

  The cat’s ears pulled back, and claws curled out from its front paws. With a yowl, the flying cat bared its fangs, swung around, and kicked at the ogre’s face with its back legs.

  “Filthy beast!” Asproceros dropped the flying cat and clutched at his face.

  “Make a hole in the bubble,” I said. “The cat’s in danger.”

  “Do it!” shouted Madam Maritimus.

  The magic in front of the flying cat thinned, and the little creature leaped out from the hole, spread its wings, and flew toward Fyrian’s head. Just as the hole in the penitentiary bubble closed up, Asproceros yanked the horn off his nose and blew into its mouthpiece.

  With a loud PING! the crystals on the witches’ staffs shattered, and the penitentiary bubble popped into golden sparks. I jumped back, heart exploding with panic.

  Asproceros threw his head back and bellowed out a triumphant roar. “You hags are worthless without your staffs, and now you will pay for your insolence!”

  The witches all rose into the air, propelled by their flying cloaks. Madam Maritimus unsheathed a thin rapier.