by Martha Carr
Please don’t stop.
He let out a sigh. “There were a lot of good people lost in the great war, and it was ugly. Many of us had been farmers or shop owners and got pulled into duty. There was no draft back then. There were only a few dozen of us who had been trained to fight using magic and even fewer who could also ride a dragon into battle.”
Connor Alby drew a deep breath. He got a faraway look, his eyes moving around the room as if he was viewing an entirely different place and time. “It wasn’t so much a war as it was a rampage. For a while, we had them.” His fists shook in the air at the unseen foe. “We thought a few more battles would wipe the Swarm out. But it’s true. What you can’t see will bite the shit out of you. They were in everything. I mean, everything.”
He shook his head to clear it and gazed at Raven.
She was listening, gradually absorbing the horror.
“That was before the wall was built. You know that big fountain in the middle of the town square?”
Raven nodded, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs, but saying nothing.
“The old people sit there to remember the dead. It was a promise they made—to never forget. Foolish words. It would be better if we could all forget.” He batted the air, frustrated. “That fountain covers what’s left of a giant hole that took too many people down into it.”
“That’s horrible!” Raven covered her mouth with her hand, her heart beating harder.
“Then it got worse. The Swarm did something we didn’t think possible. Some of them adapted and went underground to reach the center of the city.
“Some of them?”
Connor Alby rubbed his face with his hands. “The Swarm is not one beast. It’s a horror show of different creatures. The giant beetles, the Razorbacks, they make a modulated high-pitched whine that could drive you to the point of distraction.” He swallowed hard, licking his lips. “There were others that reminded me of mosquitos with swords jutting out of their jaws.” A long shudder passed down his back. “Over time, I swear some of them mutated into what it needed.”
Raven shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
He looked at her, his eyes wide, his hands dancing through the air as he talked. “They would lose a few of their flying creatures, and we’d have an advantage for a few days. Then there would be fewer of them crawling on the ground and the same number circling overhead.”
“How did you ever gain the upper hand?”
A fat tear rolled down her grandfather’s cheek. “The Wizard Riders, what remained of us. We made a plan to combine our magic the same way I showed you to fix your shoulder. We would meet them on the outskirts where the satellite ranches now sit, draw them away from the town, and wait.”
Raven held her breath, wondering what happened next.
“We stood in a long line and waited for the freakshow to get closer. There must have been hundreds and hundreds of them, and only a few dozen left of us by then. We started the spell, shouting it at them—all of us shouting it repeatedly.”
“Tell me the spell. I can learn it.”
“No!” He belted that louder than he’d intended, startling them both. “We swore never to repeat it.” He stood up, paced the small room, and came back to settle onto the couch again. “The pulse blew out toward the Swarm, absorbing them and ricocheted back toward us, creating a pressure blast that no beast survived and very few wizards. To this day, I can’t tell you why any of us made it.”
“That’s how you got those scars along your back.” Raven had seen the red, ropey scars from time to time while growing up, but her grandfather almost always kept them covered.
Connor Alby pressed his hand to his chest, his face contorted in pain.
“The wizards sacrificed themselves. You all did,” whispered Raven.
The old wizard took a deep breath. “There are journals here if you want to read through them, but don’t walk away with any of this stuff. None of this leaves this house, you hear me?”
“The other wizards hang out at the Wrangler. They said they miss you.”
“They aren’t the only ones. There are others. You see one every day. Headmaster Flynn was one.”
“He’s a dragonrider like me?”
Her grandfather wiped his face on his sleeve and tried to smile. “You are a wonder, Raven Alby. Your mother had that kind of ambition.” He loaded his things back into the trunk. “We all made sacrifices on that battlefield. Some gave their lives. Others dealt with unspeakable pain. I can’t tell you why Aiden Flynn doesn’t ride anymore. You’d have to talk to him.”
Connor sat up straight, resting his hands on his lap. “The day the riders made that sacrifice, we all lost something, and this kingdom lost the wizard riders.” He closed the trunk, pushing the metal lock into place.
“Why are you showing me all of this now?”
“The orb. I saw that it’s changing colors.”
Raven almost forgot. She opened her hand and held up the orb. The pink color was spreading, deepening its hue.
“Something dark is coming this way.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s the Swarm,” said Raven. “You wiped all of them out.”
“True, it could be manmade trouble. But never forget, those damnable creatures are like cockroaches. If we left even one alive, they could rebuild and become another infestation. If there’s even a chance, we need to be ready this time and come up with a different solution. We can’t let our past dictate your future.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The sweet smell of cinnamon wafted into Raven’s bedroom, rousing her from a deep slumber.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off her drowsiness. Is Grandpa making breakfast? In her stupor, Raven stumbled out of her room in her flannel pajamas, forgetting to grab the pale white robe that dangled from the hook on her door.
Raven walked into the kitchen, one eye still shut. Her grandfather’s back was to her, busy stirring a pot of oatmeal on the stove, splashing in a little goat’s milk and sniffing the aroma. “Almost.”
“What are you doing up?” Raven said in a hushed voice. “It’s still dark out,” she said, pointing at the window. I don’t have to feed the goats for another hour.”
Connor looked at his granddaughter and pulled the pot off the heat. “I did some thinking last night. You want to ride dragons, and I want to help you. And if it works, it will help Leander pass his tests in less than a month. And there’s the question of Fowler and your familiar.”
“A dragon.” Raven let out a yawn even as she grew more excited.
“You’ll need a dragon who trusts you without question if he’s your familiar at school. Same clock is ticking on that one.”
“I know. I’m doing the best I can.”
“I can help you. I can teach you more spells—the complicated ones Fowler won’t get to for at least another year, if ever. And we can work more on archery and your longsword skills.”
Raven’s eyebrows went up, and she was wide awake. “The good stuff?”
“That’s one way to look at it. We can use the hour before your chores to work on a precious few.”
He sloshed breakfast into a pair of bowls on the counter. He placed a steaming bowl on the table, a swirl of cinnamon in the center of the oatmeal. “I’ll eat mine outside and get things ready. Come out back to the field when you’re done, and make sure you’re ready to cast.”
He downed a cup of water, grabbed his bowl of oatmeal, and went out the front door.
Raven yawned. I’m tired as hell, but this smells great.
Outside in the field, Connor watched the steam from his breath rise in the cold air. A light shade of blue crept up the horizon. He waved to Deacon, who was standing guard.
Deacon peered into the darkness, trying to make out the tall figure walking around in the early hours. “What’s Connor Alby doing up?” He abandoned his post near the gate and jogged over. “Something wrong, Boss? What are you doing out at this hour?”
“Everything is fine.” Connor slapped him on the shoulder. “Teaching my granddaughter some of my wisdom. You can get on back to the bunkhouse. You’ll have to be up before you know it. I’ll keep watch for the rest of the night.”
“Really? Thank you, sir!” He didn’t waste another second but made a beeline for his cabin.
Connor had just gotten a fire started in the field when Raven walked out shivering, her hands in her pockets. She walked up and put her back to the fire, trying to warm up.
“We’ll have a fire every morning, but not for the reason you think.” Connor stood up, satisfied with the fire. “This morning, I’m teaching you a new weapon.”
Raven turned and extended her hands to the flames. She cocked an eyebrow. “Do I get to play with fire?”
“You get to manipulate fire. I’ll show you how to do so with an existing flame, which is more economical but no less effective. Follow me.”
They walked until they were twenty feet from the fire. Raven shuddered as the chilly air met her skin once more. Connor Alby faced the fire and gestured for her to stand closer to him. He pointed into the distance.
“Seven unlit torches fan out in both directions. Light them from here.”
Raven clapped her hands in excitement, forgetting her fatigue. “A mage in training is not so bad.”
Connor smirked and gave her a sidelong glance. “Glad you see the benefits at last. You’re going against tradition, too—a mage who wants to ride dragons. So pay attention and get it right; this isn’t an easy spell. Fire gets wobbly, the more you try to maneuver it. Ready?”
Raven shook out her hands, looked toward the torches barely visible in the darkness, and back at the fire. “I can do this.”
“You can do this. You’re an Alby. See those two torches closest to the fire? Light those first to get the hang of it. The farther you have to throw it, the harder it will be to control. It takes practice. Let’s start simple. Point to the fire and say, ‘Sequantur flamma.’ Once you say that, don’t take your eyes or your concentration off the fire. I don’t want you to do anything with it other than flick it into the sky.”
“Simple enough.” Raven repeated the spell with her mind trained on the fire. “I’ve got this.” She flicked her finger upward and a ball of flame shot up from the fire, dispersing into the night air. She giggled, surprised. “This is fun.”
“Remember, stay focused. It’s not about you or how well you’re doing it. Stay with the fire. Now, light the first torch. Pick whichever one you want.”
“Sequantur flamma.” Raven grabbed some of the fire and guided it in the air, even as it danced and wiggled. She lost control of it, and the flames showered onto the grass a few feet from the fire, embers spraying in the darkness. “Damn!”
“That’s okay. It’s why we’re not doing this anywhere near the house or the barns. You’ll get the hang of it. I’ve got some buckets of water here, and I’ll go dump one on that spot. Don’t need the whole pasture going up in flames. But don’t stop practicing. Just aim in the other direction.”
Connor grabbed the nearby bucket of water and dumped it on the flaming patch of grass, which hissed as it extinguished. He looked at Raven and pointed to the torch on the other side of the fire.
Be careful, Raven. She sighed while she extended her hand again. Whatever you do, don’t set your grandfather on fire.
“Here goes. No flameouts. Sequantur flamma.” She teased the fire up, emptying her mind and staring at the flame as hovered over the grass and zipped to one of the waiting torches. The flame dancing on top of the torch swelled as it ignited, and she raised both arms in victory. “Yes!”
With a big smile on his face, Connor grabbed another bucket of water and stepped away from the fire. “Just in case,” he said as Raven stared at him. “I’m not worried. It’s best to be prepared.”
“Uh-huh.” One by one, Raven repeated the spell and lit the torches, occasionally losing control of the fire the farther it had to travel, sending it to the grass. Whenever that happened, Connor calmly walked over and dumped a bucket of water over the embers.
Eventually, Raven only had one torch to go. It was twenty-five yards from the fire. “Sequantur flamma.” The flame traveled, picking up speed feet from its target. Raven lost the slightest bit of control, another thought entering her mind, and the flame dropped.
After several failed attempts, Raven shook her head and furrowed her brow. Her grandfather walked over to talk to her.
“Frustrated?”
She shrugged. “Annoyed. Fire is hard to control. If I can do this with any flame, wouldn’t it be smarter to just grab it from the torch right next to it? I’m getting tired.”
“Yes, and if this were a farming problem, you would do that. But this is practice for a war mage’s daughter. The goal is to develop that muscle inside you that can control fire to use as a weapon, and any weapon is better that can be used from a distance. If you want to ride dragons, you better have a strong handle on your fire manipulation.”
“I think I just need a breather.” She sat down on the grass.
“So, you’re getting the reps in now, my dear. Be patient. It’s in your blood, and you’ll get there.” He sat down next to her. “Once you get it, though? There’s nothing comparable to soaring into battle on the back of a dragon, controlling his flames as they shoot out of his mouth and torch your enemies to a crisp.” He slapped his knee. “I miss that.”
“I bet you were great at it.”
“One of the best among many great ones.”
“Couldn’t the city do something for you? If you were a master wizard rider, I feel like there would be a job for you out there. You wouldn’t have to sit around raising dwarf goats. You could help protect the city right now!”
Connor’s smile fell. “I was spent for a lot of years. The blowback from the blast drained it all.”
“Yeah, but you’re not anymore! And you still haven’t explained how you got your powers back after all these years. How could you suddenly be able to heal me? Where’s that been?”
He gazed at the sky, which was turning from deep blue to lighter blue. “I suppose it was still in there somewhere, waiting for the right time.”
“I’m not complaining. It’s perfect. The world could use somebody like you who knows what they are doing. You could guide the next generation.”
Connor placed his hands behind him and leaned back, resting on his palms while he watched the sliver of sun grow larger. The rosy glow illuminated the vast pasture where they practiced and the blackened spots from errant fireballs. “There are a lot of reasons why a wizard rider might not want to be a part of the fight anymore.”
“Like what?”
“Too much loss, perhaps. Or take your headmaster, for example. Aiden Flynn was an excellent rider. That man can spin a spell faster than anyone I ever met. I’m guessing he still can.”
She shook her head, confused. “What’s he doing running the school? He still has a lot of power. I would understand if he was spent, but Flynn can still go. He should be out there riding dragons right now!”
Connor lowered his gaze. “Flynn got caught in a bad fight with some Swarm. The tall oversized creatures with tentacles around their faces and four arms came after him. They were the ones that controlled the others. Remember? We called them ‘Skifflings.’ They were named after a childhood story of a monster that came in many forms. Kill one of those, and a section would lose their sentient command and attack each other. Flynn flew after the tallest one.”
“A tall poppy.”
“A tall poisonous poppy. It was a brutal fight. They were coming at him faster than he could cut them down, and he was great in battle. Just outnumbered.”
“Is that when he got that scar on his face?”
He nodded. “He was a bloody mess when he got back to the base we had set up, and he came on foot.”
“No dragon?”
“No dragon. He didn’t say a word. We knew he had just been
through hell, so we left him alone. One night by the fire, I sat with him and talked it over. He admitted he got in over his head, facing so many by himself. Flynn had gotten out of reach of the Swarm when a Skiffling wrapped their tentacle around his dragon, pulling the two of them toward the ground. He was seconds away from their waiting maw when his dragon bucked him off her back.”
“She saved his life.”
“Mm-hmm. Flynn said, once she did that, she stopped fighting. The damn thing pulled her under their grasping claws. Flynn said she didn’t make a noise, just accepted her death. He sprinted away from the battleground to safety, but he was heartbroken. He had been with that dragon for twenty years.”
Raven felt a newfound respect for her headmaster. “He couldn’t get another dragon?”
“He could have, Raven.” Connor placed his hands on his knees and stretched out his back. “But when you’re in a battle like that, when you come that close to death, sometimes survival almost feels worse than not making it. You carry the memories on your shoulders.” He lowered his voice. “And it becomes too much to go back.”
She sat in the silence for a moment, knowing her grandfather was not just talking about Aiden Flynn. “I’m going to try to light that last torch one more time, then I need to feed the goats.”
“You got it. Let’s give it another try.” They rose to their feet.
Raven grabbed the flame and carried it over to the farthest torch, just missing the wick before it crashed down and ignited the grass.
Connor put his arm around her. “It’s okay. You’ll get it. The first time I tried it, I almost burned down the Main Hall of Fowler. Do your chores. I’ll take care of everything here.”
Connor Alby trudged over the field with another bucket of water, smiling to himself. Nothing scares away cockroaches like a good fire. If she can get a handle on it, we’ll be okay. He doused the flames while Raven headed to the barn to feed the goats.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
William chuckled when he saw Raven strut through the gate of the Moss Ranch that morning. “Spring in your step?”
