Artifacts, Dragons, and Other Lethal Magic

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  I lingered, waiting on Drake as he stuffed some granola bars in his backpack. Warner was still seated, gazing out the window thoughtfully.

  Drake slipped past us.

  I reached out to Warner, catching his hand in mine and taking a moment to simply look at him.

  “Traveling by portal is much more dramatically satisfying,” I said.

  He chuckled, standing and filling the aisle. “Wet feet and all.”

  “It was more than my feet that were wet in the Bahamas,” I groused.

  He leered at me suggestively.

  I laughed. “You certainly pick up sexual innuendo quickly for a sixteenth-century boy.”

  “Sex translates across the centuries rather well.”

  I lifted up on my tiptoes to press my lips to his neck, just underneath his jaw and ear. He turned his head toward me, tangling his fingers through my loose curls.

  “I bet you don’t know what the mile-high club is,” I murmured.

  “I can guess. Then I can ask if a mountain counts.”

  I laughed, but my chest was starting to tighten. I was delaying stepping out of the plane, knowing that as soon as I did, Shailaja would come into play again.

  “Jade …” Warner whispered against the sensitive skin of my ear.

  I shuddered, then sighed. “After …”

  “Always,” he said. “There will always be an after for us, Jade. Whatever lies before us.”

  “She can’t possibly get through all of us,” I said, attempting to bolster my confidence and justify dragging everyone with me into yet another dangerous hunt. “No matter what side the far seer comes down on.”

  Warner pulled away from me, just slightly. “You think the far seer is aligned with Shailaja?”

  I shook my head. “Not like that … but … what if he wants this?”

  Warner looked thoughtful. “We are outmatched if we are facing a guardian. But I cannot believe that Chi Wen would do anything to hurt Drake. If he had wanted to choose Shailaja as a successor, he could have just done so.”

  “And why go after the third instrument …” I said, thinking out loud. “He had access to the first two. And when he asked me to show him the centipede the night I brought it to the nexus … well, I thought he was inferring that it would be his death. Except he can’t see his own future.”

  “Questions about the far seer’s abilities are best posed to Drake,” Warner said. “I’ve never been apprenticed to a guardian.”

  I reached up and caressed his face, lightly scratching the short stubble along his jawline. “I’m glad. I’m not sure we would have gotten along if you were a guardian when we first met.”

  “I certainly would have been displeased about you dragging a demon into the nexus.”

  I laughed. “I’m sure you would have.”

  He grinned, then turned serious. “Plus, your father wouldn’t have given his blessing.”

  “Would you have cared?” I asked playfully.

  “It’s not … even for a dragon, being married to a guardian is …” Warner trailed off with a shake of his head.

  I wondered if he was thinking of his parents’ marriage. Dragons lived a long time, but guardians were practically immortal — right up to the moment they decided to pass on their responsibilities.

  “What happens if Chi Wen tries to make Shailaja the next far seer?” I asked.

  “They both die. Her, because she’s too … unstable. And him, because he must die to transfer his power.”

  “And the far seer’s magic? Would it just be lost?”

  Warner shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “When the guardians relinquish their mantles, is an alchemist involved?”

  “I don’t think so. But I know nothing of the ceremony. It’s not written down or discussed. Only the nine know. I would go so far as to say that it takes the presence of all the guardians, but I’m not actually certain.”

  Heavy footsteps clomped up the exterior stairs of the jet, then Drake appeared at the head of the aisle. He was wearing a black parka and carrying two other identical jackets. Apparently, the items Kett had requested included cold-weather clothing. The fledgling guardian didn’t speak, but I knew he was anxious to get moving.

  Everyone was anxious. And I was dillydallying.

  I brushed a kiss against Warner’s lips, then turned away up the aisle. He tugged me back into his arms for a searing lip lock, only letting me go after my knees had turned to jelly and every thought had been wiped from my mind.

  “After,” he whispered.

  Then we marched into battle.

  Or rather, then we set out to scale a mountain. Same difference really, when you’ve never been big on hiking.

  ∞

  After climbing into two gray SUVs waiting outside the hangar, we made a beeline out of Chengdu. Assuming we’d even been in the city to begin with, that was. It was still so gray outside that everything I could see through the windows might as well have been the outskirts of any other big city I’d ever seen. Or perhaps I was just too distracted to notice any particular details.

  Following Drake’s map, we skirted the western edge of the Longchi National Forest Park — according to Kandy and Google Maps. Then, avoiding a small town at the end of the main road, we abandoned the SUV and struck off on foot. Though the trip was relatively quick, the area felt remote and alien … mountainous but without the massive fir and cedar trees I was accustomed to being surrounded by. We continued on foot through the snow, clambering over rocks and skirting crevices, following a trail that only Kett and Warner seemed capable of seeing.

  And if January wasn’t off-season for hiking in Sichuan Province, it should have been.

  It was cold. Seriously cold. Even wearing the heavy-duty parkas Kett had bought, I was probably as cold as I’d ever been. Thankfully, the vampire had also thought to source boots and weather-appropriate knitwear. I didn’t bother asking how he knew everyone’s shoe sizes. I left my pretty silk jacket in the SUV, pleased that I hadn’t totally ruined it yet.

  Bundled up and hooded, the six of us were pretty much indistinguishable. Though, perhaps that was only if you couldn’t constantly taste all the different strains of magic whirling around us.

  After comparing Drake’s map with Google, we figured out that we needed to climb toward the summit of a mountain called Jiuding Shan. So … we were somewhere in the mountains of China.

  I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. The last time I’d been hiking in the mountains Warner had practically carried me the entire way. And, as far as I remembered, there’d been less snow. Now he and Drake pushed ahead through deep-packed snow, along game trails identified by Kett. Blackwell and I kept our heads down in the middle of the pack while Kandy gleefully brought up the rear. The werewolf was in her element. The sorcerer and I were not. I wasn’t a fan of having anything to commiserate about with the sorcerer, so I kept my complaints to myself.

  According to Google Maps, the area was crisscrossed with roads and littered with mountain villages, but our path avoided them all.

  As we climbed, Drake, Warner, and Kett kept stopping to argue — in Chinese — and gesture pointedly to the map. I assumed they were in disagreement about which peak was what, and whether or not we were on the path. But I was more interested in staying bundled up. Plus, looking at the map apparently required a huffy removal of gloves, though I wasn’t sure the cold actually affected Kett.

  I also seriously hoped that the climbing gear and snowshoes the vampire had strapped to all of us were going to be unnecessary.

  After what felt like eons of stumbling blindly behind everyone else through the snow but might have only been an hour, the intensity of the area’s natural magic increased. That meant we didn’t have to consult the map for the last leg of the hike. Even in the snow, I could see strains of wild magic dancing all around us … mostly from the icy granite, as there wasn’t much vegetation.

  The grid point portal was situated on a rocky plateau, halfway up one
mountain and nestled between at least four others.

  Warner immediately sent a message through to the nexus, apprising Haoxin of our progress. He didn’t get a reply. Not one that I heard, anyway.

  My heart sank just a tiny bit at the thought of my father and Pulou still bedridden. It wasn’t that I was hoping they would swoop in and save the day. It was just freaking cold, and … yeah, okay — I was kind of hoping the guardians would show up en masse and make Shailaja their problem.

  A small, rather derelict hut was tucked against a sheer cliff face a few dozen feet away from the portal. At one point, the building might have been rather pretty and ornate. But time and extreme weather hadn’t been kind to its hip-and-gable roof and red-columned entrance.

  At least it was a place to get out of the cold. Warner wasted no time breaking apart a piece of furniture that might have been a table at one time and building a small fire on a flat clay surface at the center of the hut. The smoke miraculously vented out of a hole in the roof. When it was warm enough for me to take my gloves off, I sat down to see if I could trigger the dragonskin map to reveal whatever secrets it held.

  After about fifteen minutes of studying the map, I’d been abandoned by everyone but Blackwell and Kandy. Warner, Drake, and Kett had left to walk the perimeter, but it was obvious that they hoped the rabid koala — the heretic, as Drake called her — would reveal herself now that we were stationary in a remote location. Shailaja might be crazy and consumed by her desire to achieve immortality, but she wasn’t stupid. If she knew where we were, she’d know we were at an impasse, and either gathering information or awaiting reinforcements. The grid point portal’s magic would speak to her just as much as it did to Warner, Drake, and me. Maybe even more. She was the daughter of Pulou-who-was, after all.

  Kandy was pretending to be enthralled in some first-person shooter game on her phone, while standing sentry between Blackwell and me. The sorcerer was poring over his own notes.

  I sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, near enough to the fire that I’d unzipped my jacket and stripped off my hat and scarf.

  Blackwell had risked sitting on a low bench that was the only intact piece of furniture in the place, though he’d dragged it away from the open window first. Tattered cloth stirred at the edge of the window frame, and snow had built up at its corners. The door to the shelter was missing as well, if there had even been one in the first place. But its walls held the warmth from the fire eagerly, making it cozy enough. It was like sitting in the middle of ancient history, though. I wasn’t a fan.

  The map still wouldn’t reveal anything of substance. Not that I could understand, anyway. Frustrated that I was missing some fundamental clue, I attempted to curb my self-loathing and give myself a second to think by watching Blackwell. He was carefully copying a sketch from his ancestor’s journal into his own Moleskine notebook. From my viewpoint, it looked like a variation of the flower-and-leaf motif on the map, but with fewer blossoms and more bare branches.

  I closed my eyes, reaching my dowser senses out beyond the walls of the hut and casting my awareness into the mountains and snow outside. I was looking for dragon magic that tasted of cinnamon-spiced carrot cake and smooth cream cheese. Or even Chi Wen’s spicy magic. Though I’d witnessed two displays in the last three or so days of how well guardians could mask their magic, so I imagined I’d only sense the far seer if he wanted me to.

  I tasted Drake’s and Warner’s magic nearby, then Kett’s peppermint farther beyond. But I didn’t pick up any hint of the rabid koala or the far seer.

  I opened my eyes.

  Blackwell was watching me.

  I scowled at him.

  He offered me a tight-lipped smile. “You broadcast your magic loudly, alchemist.”

  I almost said something flippant back, but then thought to question him instead. “All the time?”

  “No. But when you do whatever you were just doing, you are difficult to ignore.”

  I looked over at Kandy. Her attention was on her phone, but she was listening to us. She shrugged noncommittally in response to my silent question. Which meant either that the smell of my magic didn’t intensify for her, or she wasn’t interested in talking about it in front of the sorcerer.

  Adepts were annoyingly close-mouthed about such things. They treated secrets as power, when I’d only ever known secrets to be weaknesses.

  I reached up, tugging my jacket half off my shoulders and unwinding my necklace.

  Blackwell watched me intently.

  I placed the wedding-ring-laden chain on the floor beside me, nearer to Kandy than the sorcerer.

  “And now?” I asked.

  Blackwell closed his notebook, then tucked it and the journal in his jacket pocket. He was still wearing his suit underneath his parka and knitwear. It was an odd combination, but the suit was clearly — and quite heavily — spelled, not only with protective wards but also with some sort of expansion magic on its pockets.

  Apparently, a man purse wasn’t Blackwell’s thing.

  With his expression carefully impassive, the sorcerer shifted off the bench, closed the space between us with a couple of steps, and carefully folded his long frame into a lotus position across from me.

  Kandy dropped the gaming pretense. Though it seemed unlikely she would have been wasting her battery by playing the entire time anyway. I doubted the sorcerer had been fooled. She folded her arms and leaned back against the wall by the door, looking deceptively relaxed.

  Blackwell glanced down at my necklace pooled on the floor about a foot from my right knee. He nodded. “Stunning. Years of work?”

  Though it shouldn’t have, impressing the sorcerer gave me a slight thrill. He had centuries’ worth of artifacts in his collection — including some that were exceedingly dangerous in my estimation. He knew what he was talking about.

  “Do you think the necklace impedes my own magic? As well as deflecting it?”

  Blackwell tilted his head, looking at me thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t think so. Certainly, you would know by now if you can use it as an amplifier.”

  “I mostly use it to absorb or shield me from magic.”

  “Your sister was eager to get her hands on it.” Blackwell’s statement was carefully measured, but placed before me without judgement or emotion.

  I forced myself to not bristle at the mention of Sienna. I was asking the sorcerer for help … circumspectly, but still. Listening, rather than ripping his head off was the better choice. For right now, at least.

  Some sort of amusement flashed across Blackwell’s face, as if he could sense my inner struggle. But it was gone before I could react.

  “She used my trinkets as anchors for her binding spells,” I said.

  “You create them as empty vessels?”

  “Not intentionally.”

  Blackwell nodded, returning his attention to my necklace, then looking at the map spread on the floor between us. “You were wondering if the necklace was hindering your ability to manipulate the map?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Has it done so before?”

  “No.”

  “So logically …”

  “Do you want to just hang out here in the freezing cold for days, or do you want me to figure out the issue?”

  “Show me.”

  I reached forward and triggered the map. It shifted to the aspect I’d practically memorized — the fields of green surrounded by black triangles.

  “Clearly the Himalayas with the Daxue Mountain range descending to the east.”

  “Sure, easy for you to say, now that we’re here.”

  “But you are expecting something else?”

  “In the … other collections …” I hesitated, not sure how much I wanted to divulge to the sorcerer.

  He smirked, lifting his hand to indicate that I could continue if I wished, but that he didn’t much care either way.

  “The map shifted aspects the closer we came to the instrument.”

  Blackwell
frowned. “Did you have to trigger it in a different way?”

  “No.”

  “So why would it change now?”

  “I don’t know … unless …”

  The image of Blackwell’s sketch surfaced in my mind. The drawing was reminiscent of the detail on the door of the shrine we were seeking. Blackwell had referenced it as the image he recalled having seen among his ancestors’ journals when he’d studied Rochelle’s sketches in Westport.

  “May I see the sketch you were working on? Compare it to the map? And to Rochelle’s sketch?”

  Blackwell pulled his notebook out of his pocket. I dug Rochelle’s sketch of the door out of my satchel. We laid all three items on the floor, grouping them as closely as we could without obscuring the images.

  I pointed to the top left corner of the door in Rochelle’s sketch. “Do you think that looks similar to your ancestor’s sketch?”

  Blackwell leaned forward and carefully compared the two. Rochelle’s sketch didn’t have as much detail, but the curve of the branches was similar.

  “I should have taken pictures of the other sketches,” I said. “The door appeared in others, right?”

  Blackwell fished his phone out of his pocket, opened his photo app, and flipped through the images. Of course he would have thought to take freaking pictures.

  “I don’t want you hanging me on your bedroom wall, sorcerer,” I said gruffly. “I know you buy sketches from Rochelle.”

  Blackwell chuckled. “I do. But they don’t adorn my bedroom walls,” he said. “I’d be pleased to show you. Perhaps ease your mind.”

  Kandy made a harsh gagging noise.

  The trace of playfulness that had crept into Blackwell’s demeanor disappeared. He found the picture he’d been looking for and zoomed in on it.

  He handed the phone to me, confirming my suspicion about his ancestor’s drawings.

  “It’s unfinished. If it’s a detail of the door. Your ancestor saw only half the image.”

  Blackwell harrumphed thoughtfully, returning his attention to comparing all four images.

  “What if …” I glanced up at Kandy. “What if Pulou-who-was died before he finished the map? What if the tattoo was just a work in progress?”