by Bianca D'Arc
“Jenet!” The young man strode forward to meet them, all smiles. “Don’t you recognize me?”
“We’ve come for Prince William.” Drake said carefully, his suspicion rising. The man walked confidently and he looked eerily like Roland had as a man at the brink of full adulthood. The swagger was the same, the hair, the build of a warrior and those royal green eyes.
“I am William.” The stranger stopped right in front of Jenet, seeking her out. “Don’t you know me, milady? I know it’s been a few years, but I can’t have changed that much.”
“Years?” Krysta asked. “The prince was kidnapped only days ago. We’ve been on his trail since the morning after his abduction.”
“Are the others all right? Declan and Ren wouldn’t let me go without a fight, bless their hearts.” The familiar green eyes clouded with concern. “Arlis and Lilla were hurt too, I remember, but Gryffid assured me they survived.”
“We do not know their fate, but Arlis and my father made it back to the castle to raise the alarm,” Drake said. “They very nearly didn’t make it and when I left, they were both still confined to their quarters and would be for many days.”
“Your father?” The man switched his attention to Drake, surveying him with narrowed eyes. “Then you’re Drake. You finally came back for Jenet? That’s really great.” A smile creased his face and a dimple appeared that made the younger man look just like Nico had at that age. Drake suspected the magic of the island had done something to the boy who was now a man.
“Jenet, my love, is this William?”
Jenet was suspiciously silent as she reached down to lick the man’s cheek. Dragons often had the taste and scent of other dragons they knew. Being of the royal line, William was half-dragon, so if this strange young man was indeed the missing prince, Jenet would be able to say for certain.
Jenet retracted her tongue, blinking slowly as she considered. Shock didn’t show well on draconic faces, but Drake knew every facet of her behavior. She was surprised.
“William? How can this be?” Jenet lowered her head to eye the man who somehow was the object of their quest. He reached up familiarly and rubbed her eye ridges, causing Drake to start in surprise. No one touched a dragon they did not know unless invited, yet this man seemed to know just what Jenet liked, and she did not object.
“It’s been five long years since I’ve seen you, milady. I’ve missed you.”
Drake was even more surprised when the man threw his arms around Jenet’s neck and hugged her close. That she allowed such treatment spoke volumes about her certainty that this was indeed the prince they had been searching for.
“I don’t understand this,” Krysta said.
“Ah, but you will. In good time.” A strange voice interrupted and everyone looked up to see a tall man in a long coat standing on the rise of a sand dune, watching them. His voice carried on the evening wind, resonating through the air.
“Who are you?” Krysta moved in front, her curious nature warring with her upset at these strange circumstances. Drake could see the telltale tapping of her fingers against her thigh. She was uncomfortable with these developments—as were they all, if truth be told.
“Gryffid, please save the dramatics,” the older version of William said with a sigh. “They are probably very tired after their journey.”
The other man nodded. “No doubt you are right. Come, let us repair to the hall. We’ll have refreshment and explanations there.”
This was not quite the reception they had expected. Drake looked around and realized the gryphons had winged off elsewhere, leaving just the party from Draconia with these two strange men. The one on the dune turned abruptly and disappeared from sight behind the hill. The other man stepped away from Jenet and followed after, waving to them to catch up.
“What do you think?” Drake silently asked all four of his companions as they started after the two men.
“I think very strange magic is afoot on this island,” Mace said with suspicion lacing his tone. “We should be cautious.”
“Undoubtedly,” Drake agreed. “But do you think that young man could really be Prince William?”
“It is William. Or at least, it tastes like Wil,” Jenet said with confusion.
“His scent is that of Prince William,” Nellin put in, “and he has the looks of his brothers, and the power. That man is half-dragon. Of that I have little doubt.”
They crested the dune and saw a lovely old manor house, complete with a large, enclosed courtyard, outbuildings for animals and workers, what looked to be a garrison, and a very large tower rising from the main building. It was lovely, in a very eclectic sort of way, and it looked almost ancient in design, though very well preserved.
“That looks like a wizard’s keep.” Krysta spoke the thought that passed through all of their minds.
“Very good,” came a strange voice, strong in all of their minds. “It is, in fact, my keep.”
“That man!” Krysta held her head, outraged at the intrusion. “A wizard?”
Drake thought about it. “I see little other plausible explanation.”
“But they’re all dead!” Krysta whispered emphatically.
“Or exiled,” the man’s voice came to them again, making it clear he could listen in on any sort of conversation they might have while in his domain. That was just unnatural. Nobody had skills like that…unless…
“William called him Gryffid,” Mace reminded them in his quiet way.
“Sweet Mother of All!” Krysta kept moving, but her face was a mirror of shock. “The wizard Gryffid created the gryphons.”
“And what better place for me to live than Gryphon Isle? Be at ease, my new friends. My days of warring are over. At least for the moment.”
They followed in silence, both weary from the journey and unwilling to let even more of their conversation be overheard. So far, Drake thought, the wizard—if he were to be believed—didn’t seem hostile. Drake would wait and see.
He made note of every facet of his surroundings as they made their way to the hall. He saw his companions doing the same, looking around at the ancient stone battlements and observing the signs of gryphons everywhere.
The place was teeming with them. Drake could count dozens in the distance, flying here and there around other parts of the large, rocky island. Several watched their progress from the rooftops and spires of the keep, their piercing eyes following the party’s every move. Jenet’s wings twitched in agitation and Drake put a steadying hand on her shoulder as he walked beside her.
Dragons and gryphons were well matched since their magic mostly cancelled each other out. Outnumbered as they were, the dragons were definitely at a disadvantage here, should these creatures turn hostile.
Jenet stopped just before the doorway when William paused.
“Do you not go in?” she asked him directly.
The man purported to be William shook his head. “I have a bit more to do outdoors while Gryffid explains everything.”
“Then may I stay with you?” she asked, her tone both confused and hopeful. It hurt Drake’s heart to hear her uncertainty. She loved William like a son—or perhaps a little brother. If this man was really the William she had lost only days before, Drake could understand her dismay.
Gryffid motioned offhandedly. “Certainly, stay and satisfy yourself that he is indeed William. I know this is a lot to take in all at once. For you, only a few days have passed.”
“Do you mind, Drake?” Jenet blinked hopeful eyes at him.
“Of course not, sweetheart.” He rubbed her scales fondly. “Stay and talk with…uh…William.”
“I’ll stay outside with my lady,” Nellin declared and Drake wasn’t surprised. The young male dragon would protect his mate. Always.
Drake turned, leaving them outside with the puzzling young man, and followed the wizard, Krysta and Mace indoors. He wasn’t too surprised to see the doors and hallways of the keep were large enough for even dragons to navigate. It was clear
the gryphons had the run of the place and in fact, the two who had escorted them to the island were waiting in the great hall when the Draconian party entered.
Herorthor and Llydiss sat near a huge fireplace that was centered along one great stone wall. A large table stood before it, with several richly padded chairs. The entire place had a feeling of antiquity about it, but looked comfortable enough. Gryffid went directly to one wall covered completely in bookcases. He pulled a large folio from one of the shelves and turned back to the group, standing very near the large table.
“Please, seat yourselves. I know you are weary from the crossing, but we have much to discuss.” He opened the folio and sorted through a number of ancient-looking scrolls before setting two aside while they took seats around the large table.
“I have here something for you to read, Drake.”
“How do you know my name?”
The wizard smiled coyly. “It is much more than your name, boy, it’s what you are.”
Drake sighed. Apparently it was true that wizards liked to speak in riddles. He tried to school himself to patience while the old man related his tale in his way.
“Draneth, Draco and the others. I knew them all, once upon a time, and called several friend. But then Skir started his rumblings and allied with other malcontents. They wanted war, so we gave it to them, but it was you—the sons and daughters of man—who suffered most. Then we hit upon the idea of creating guardians. Powerful beings who could fight to protect the human race from our folly.” He gestured toward the two gryphons lounging by the fire. “Draco was able to conjure little beings of fire that would flit around like birds, trailing flame from their wings and tail. They were formidable but lacked substance. That’s when Draneth got the idea for dragons, and you know the result of that experiment.”
“So what has this to do with us?” Krysta asked.
“Patience, young lady. It will all come clear in time.” Gryffid pushed one of the scrolls across the smooth tabletop toward Drake. “Perhaps this will help. Read it aloud, if you don’t mind, young Drake.”
Drake unrolled the ancient thing carefully, glad to see the writing was legible. He looked at his companions with a raised brow, then began reading, growing more concerned as he puzzled through the words.
“If you read this, you have at last found your destiny, my son, and dark days threaten the lands once more. Seek me in the forgotten places. Find me in flame. Hold fast against the frost and use what I have bequeathed as best you may. Do not squander your power, get of Draco. But use it as your forefathers once did. Let the dragons be your guide and protect them, sons and daughters of the flame made flesh.”
It was signed, Draco, Wizard of Fire. After that followed a few stanzas of mismatched verse, much like what the gryphons had quoted the day before.
Burn bright fire light
Spark to blaze the dangerous gaze
Ember’s glow, your inferno
Conflagration to save a nation
Thrice promised
The unexpected vow
Two will fly into forgotten realms
To fulfill the here and now
The vow to king
Prince and sire
Fulfilled five-fold
With untold fire
Flame rediscovered
Shared and passed
Kindled against evil
Magic meant to last
The Drake of Fire
Reborn and discovered
Partners in life
A weapon uncovered
Against the dark
Wield your purging flame
Judge with your heart
Live up to your Name
As he spoke the last word, Drake felt a tingling sensation in his palms that sizzled down his fingers. Little plumes of smoke drifted upward from the points where each fingertip touched the scroll. In those same places, the paper browned as if heated by open flame and Drake felt heat pool in his fingertips.
“What is this?” Drake looked from his fingers to the scorched page.
“Control your fire, son of Draco, or you will set my hall ablaze with your magic.” Gryffid chuckled, making light of something that set Drake on his ear.
“I’m no mage. I have no power.” He set the missive carefully on the table.
“Ah, there you are wrong, my young friend.”
“You speak in riddles, old man.” Drake felt his anger rising. Anger and something else, even more troubling—the tingling energy that somehow burned the paper. “I have never been able to use magic. The Jinn tried to teach me, but it was no use.”
“But you always felt it there…just beyond your reach.” Gryffid’s eyes pinned Drake to the spot. “Didn’t you?” he barked. “When the Jinn troubadours used their magic to sway people with their song, you felt the sting, the effervescence of it against your own.” Gryffid looked at him with knowing eyes. “It’s how the Jinn teach each other. How one mage schools another. Young, untrained magic will always rise to either caress or condemn its elders. Perhaps that’s part of the reason you clashed so often with your blood-father.”
“Is nothing unknown to you?” Drake’s head was spinning.
Gryffid grinned, throwing him a half-lidded look over one shoulder. It was neither a friendly glance, nor a combative one, but it spoke of…secrets.
“I have watched you. All of you.” Gryffid reached out to include Krysta and Mace. “I knew sooner or later, separately or together, each of you would find your way to my island. When that part of the riddle was shown to me, I made it my business to watch you each from afar. Very entertaining, I might add.” Gryffid winked at Drake, still smiling. Drake felt something cold crawl up his spine. Some spymaster he was. If the wizard was to be believed, he’d been spied upon his entire life and never been the wiser.
“You, Sir Drake, son of Declan, grandson of Darius, are also the son, many times removed, of my old friend, the wizard Draco. His magic runs true in you, though it has lain dormant in your forebears for many centuries. Your grandfather Darius was the first of your line to be chosen as a dragon’s knight. It was his mother that was descended of wizards. She was a healer of some renown in her native land, but she left to marry a two dashing young knights named Elias and Zach. They lived in one of the outlying Lairs, I believe.”
Drake sat heavily. This was all starting to sound eerily plausible. “My great-grandmother, Delia.” He paused, thinking back. “They say she could bespeak dragons.”
Gryffid nodded. “And heal them too, of small wounds, at least. But her true gift was something quite different. Something she denied out of fear. She was a Firedrake, as are you.” The wizard chuckled. “Oh, how I laughed at the irony when your parents named you.”
“I’m glad someone is enjoying this,” Krysta, bless her heart, interrupted the wizard. “What exactly is a Firedrake?”
“A flame wizard. Living fire. Your companion, like many of his forebears, has the gift of fire in a very tangible way. Is it any wonder his dragon partner is the color of glowing embers? Or his father’s the color of the flaming sun? Darius’s dragon partner was the red-gold of an inferno. It’s rather poetic, actually.” Gryffid seemed to enjoy his moment of revelation.
“What has Jenet got to do with this?” Drake’s concern shifted to his beloved sister.
“Quite a bit, actually. I believe those three dragons sensed the hidden blaze in you and your forefathers. You have flame in common. And I believe—” Gryffid turned to watch Jenet enter the great hall at the far end, “—your dragon sister will be key in helping you find your fire. Though from what I’ve just seen, it is much closer to the surface in you than it was in any of your recent ancestors. Must be all that time spent among the Jinn mages.”
“Wait. The Jinn really do have mages?” Mace asked from across the table.
Krysta shrugged. “Some. It’s a closely held secret—” she shot a disgusted look at the wizard, “—but many Jinn minstrels have the ability to influence people with the
ir music. If you’d asked me last week, I would’ve thought Drake of the Five Lands one of the more magically talented of the Jinn troubadours, judging by his accomplishments, but now you say his magic isn’t in his music?”
Gryffid tilted his head, considering. “Not entirely. Young Drake is descended of wizards and therefore some of our magic flows through him no matter what he does. I wouldn’t say, though, that Draco ever had musical leanings. Whatever musical talent Drake has is purely natural. I surmise his magic may have risen to flow with that of his teachers, though it could find no real expression in song. No, his brand of magic needs flame to express itself.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Only to his enemies.” Gryffid’s gaze sharpened. “Which leads to why he is here. I can set you on the path, Drake, with Jenet’s help. Together you will rediscover the secret of your heritage and perhaps teach your blood-father a thing or two when you return home, eh?” The wizard’s expression turned amused once more.
Jenet neared and sat behind Drake, all but cocooning him with her sinuous length twined at his back. Her head loomed over the table, then settled at his side while Drake reached up to rub her brow ridges. He was glad of her presence. She comforted him. She was his anchor in the swirling mass of uncertainty the wizard had stirred.
“Are you all right?”
“Did you listen in? Did you hear what he said?”
“I heard.”
“And?”
“And I think he’s right. There’s always been something different about you. And about Papa Dec. I didn’t realize it at first, but after knowing other humans, I can say whatever it is, it isn’t present with anyone but you. And maybe a few of the Jinn.” Jenet blinked her jeweled eyes at Krysta. “It’s magic, Drake. Only with you and Papa Dec, it feels so familiar, I almost didn’t notice it.”
“It feels like fire,” Gryffid cut in, clearly eavesdropping once again on a private conversation. “Doesn’t it, little one?”
Jenet’s head rose sharply to regard the man. She blinked once. “It does.”
