by Pirateaba
“It’s not usual that we get monsters that come as far as the dining hall, but accidents happen. I wonder how the undead got here? Teleportation spell gone wrong?”
“Dead corpses?”
Beatrice scratched at her head. It was more of a massage since she could scratch every spot at will. She pointed at the distraught mage who’d ran into the room.
“Probably an experiment with some bodies. Too much magic. Must’ve reanimated them.”
“True. I’ll ask later. Anyways, bear that in mind, you two. If you want to stay at Wistram, you’ve got to be prepared for anything. Sea Serpents are the least of your worries here. Do you think you can handle it?”
He looked both Ceria and Pisces in the eye. She hesitated, but then nodded with conviction.
“I’m staying.”
Pisces nodded. He swallowed a huge gulp of food and wiped at his mouth with a napkin.
“So am I!”
“That’s what they all say.”
Calvaron laughed with Beatrice, although she just chuckled. Then he grew serious.
“Unfortunately, I’ve got some bad news for you two. This year there are nearly twice as many prospective students as usual. I’m afraid that unless you’re over Level 20 or you’ve got some new spell or talent, you’ll be hard-pressed to pass the exam.”
He paused as both new students exchanged a dismayed look.
“Well, unless you have a patron to sponsor you.”
“A patron?”
“A high-level mage.”
Beatrice translated. Calvaron nodded as he crunched on another carrot.
“Someone who will vouch for your abilities. That would allow you to skip the exam altogether.”
Ceria eyed Calvaron.
“I don’t suppose you…?”
“Sorry, I don’t have the influence to help anyone. We’re all novice mages here. Only one of the teachers or one of the older mages can do that, and they don’t usually interfere with the exam. Plus, a lot of the ones assigned to teaching duty this year aren’t too happy.”
“Like Illphres. She’s angry.”
“Who?”
“The mage who cast [Ice Lance]. That’s her, over there.”
Ceria looked over and saw an older woman dressed in robes sitting with the group Calvaron had identified as the Isolationists. She was scowling at another mage as he spoke. Calvaron lowered his voice.
“She’s going to teach you some elemental magic. But ah, she’s…temperamental. She’s one of the best [Cryomancers] in the academy, though.”
“Is [Cryomancer] the same as [Ice Mage]?”
“Different names. Sometimes different specializations, but usually the same.”
“Oh.”
Ceria kept staring at Illphres. She’d cast a Tier 4 spell – [Ice Lance] in mere seconds, without even using a wand! Ice magic wasn’t Ceria’s specialty, but she was still impressed by the spell.
But it seemed not everyone shared her opinion. Reacting to what one of the mages had said, Illphres said something angrily which earned her a scoff and a flick of the hand from the talkative mage. Ceria saw Illphres raise her hand and then the mage who’d been talking was blasted off his feet by a huge swathe of snow.
He went flying, into another table. Ceria winced as she saw the mage smash into plates and cups and splatter the diners sitting there. One woman calmly wiped food off her face, and Ceria’s heart skipped a beat as she recognized Amerys, the mage who had slain the Sea Serpent.
Amerys looked across the room at Illphres and raised a finger. Ceria ducked and the lightning bolt exploded against the icy wall Illphres had conjured, sending fragments of ice into the air like hail.
More screaming erupted as the Isolationists all surged to their feet. Amerys grinned and the mages around her began casting spells. Ceria watched as a full-blown fight erupted between the mages in the hall as more and more joined in. She could hear shouting as well, from other groups of mages who were just defending themselves or staying outside of the conflict altogether.
“Take cover!”
“Damn it! It’s Amerys and Illphres again!”
“Careful! You nearly hit my plate!”
“Someone put up a shield spell before those students get killed!”
Calvaron chuckled as Beatrice threw up a magical barrier that caught an incoming bolt of magic. He glanced over at Ceria and Pisces as they stared at the magical war breaking out among the mages.
“Don’t worry. People hardly ever get killed. They’re just having a disagreement; I doubt they even realized you lot were coming in today. Just don’t disturb them while they’re working, don’t wander off into far off parts of the isle, ask for help, don’t choose a side right away, and never get in the way of the Golems.”
He paused and scratched at his head as one of the mages shot a stream of purple bubbles out of a wand that immobilized an entire table of students.
“Anything else they should know, Beatrice?”
She shrugged.
“Don’t die. And welcome to Wistram.”
2.39
I sit on the ground and laugh. Hysterically. I thought I’d never be hysterical, but now I guess I am.
Let’s recap. I’m sitting on the ground in the center of a cavern filled with magical treasures. The floor is smooth marble; magelight fills the room. Valuable treasures lie scattered around like afterthoughts, and a Dragon lies across one half of the cavern and eyes me uncertainly.
In short, exactly how I imagined all of this going down. I think I have tears in my eyes, but I can’t stop giggling like a loon to wipe them away.
Erin’s fine. Of course she’s fine. Why wouldn’t she be? I ran all this way, desperate, and she was fine the entire time. She’s talking happily with Octavia in the image Teriarch shows me, and by the looks of it they’re having a good time. Octavia seems animated, at least.
She met Octavia. In Celum. I don’t know how she got there, but Toren must have carried her that far. Somehow.
It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. Now that I know she’s okay, it’s like a cloud lifted from my mind. I can think clearly—only to realize how stupid I’ve been.
Here be Dragons. Or at least, one. Teriarch. He stares at me with a perplexed expression on his huge face. It makes me laugh harder.
How did it get like this?
“Human.”
His deep voice is impossible to ignore, but even he has to raise it above my manic laughter. Teriarch frowns at me.
“No. Ryoka Griffin, isn’t it? Are you well?”
“I’m—fine.”
I’m not. All of a sudden the laughter wants to turn to tears, and I feel like throwing up.
I’ve made such a mess of my life, haven’t I? Just like the last world, I guess you can’t let go of who you are even with a second chance.
I’m just a bit tired, now. But when I look up, even the bleakness of my heart is relieved.
After all, I am staring at a Dragon.
A Dragon.
He lies in his cave, shining like living gold. His scales are brilliant, and they reflect fragments of light onto the walls every time he moves. He is a Dragon. Teriarch is a Dragon.
They’re real.
He delicately clears his throat, and I scrub at my face. Okay, okay, I’m okay. I can’t waste this moment. Waste any more of this moment, that is.
“Sorry. I uh—I’m sorry about that.”
He waves a claw at me.
“I shall pay it no mind. I am relieved that you are so…lighthearted. I understand you were quite concerned for your friend.”
Is a polite way of saying that he’s glad I’m not insane? For a second, I’m tempted to play all of this off as some kind of mental disorder. I wonder how he’d even deal with that?
He’d probably just heal me. Can he heal the mind with magic? What if you were born with chemical imbalances in your brain, for example? Would a [Restore] spell be useless in that case?
There’s the quasi-scientist in me, askin
g all the questions. Teriarch is still staring at me, so I clear my throat.
“I’m sorry about that. It’s just been a rough couple of days.”
“I see. My condolences.”
He coughs. I scuff at the marble tiles with my foot.
Oh my god. Here I am, talking with a Dragon, and I’m having problems carrying the conversation. And so is he!
Remember, he’s a normal person. Remember that. He’s just a Dragon, an immortal being – not a mammal, not someone who grew up with any of my societal norms, moral standards, hell, we’re not even the same gender…
“Well, yeah, it’s been tough.”
Someone shoot me. But Teriarch just nods and casts his eye to the ceiling.
“I did notice those pests following you about. They have a habit of ruining anyone’s day for as long as they maintain interest.”
“Pests? You mean the Frost Faeries?”
“Yes. I was quite intrigued. How is it that you can see them? Their glamour is usually impenetrable to even the most accomplished mages, unless they know what to look for.”
Um. That’s a really good question. I was going to look into that, but I never got around to it. I hesitate.
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Ah. Of course. I see.”
He gives me a dismissive look. And when a Dragon does it, you really feel small*. He scratches at his jaw. He was interested when I was telling him riddles, but I guess he still thinks I’m an idiot.
*Seriously. He’s about the size of a passenger airliner. Not a 747—more like an Airbus A380. Hell, what would happen if he landed on one of them? He could take down planes just pushing them out of the sky.
I grit my teeth, and moderate my tone. Okay, Dragon or not, I still don’t like being underestimated.
“I was going to say, I’m not sure, but I think it’s probably because I come from another world. Something about the chemical balance in my head – or my diet and my origin from another planet – may help me pierce their illusion. It could be any number of factors.”
The Dragon pauses. He looks back at me.
“Well of course. Ah…well, your origins might be one explanation, but faerie magic accounts for more than one world. There must be another reason; usually their magics are broken by satisfying some rule.”
“Any idea what that might be?”
“Not as such. But I must congratulate you on your considered opinion. It is rare to meet a Human so…thoughtful.”
“You mean, it’s nice not to meet an idiot. And that wasn’t a ‘considered opinion’. That was a basic conclusion that took less effort to come up with than it took to say.”
In the resulting silence I suck my lips in. Shit. I did it again.
But instead of swallowing me in one gulp, Teriarch only stares at me. Then he nods.
“Indeed. Well, I must apologize. It is rare for me to meet any mortal beings worthy of my time. Of course, the gap between our levels of understanding is such that these misunderstandings must inevitably occur.”
Did I just get a Dragon to apologize to me? It was a backhanded apology, but—I’ll process that later. Right now, the intelligent part of my brain that seems to have been on vacation up till this point wakes up and taps my frontal lobe. I might have screwed up in coming here, and that riddle game, but I have an opportunity here, don’t I?
After all, I am talking to a Dragon. And suddenly, I’ve got questions. Millions of questions.
I cough delicately. Teriarch is just staring at me, frowning as if he’s trying to work out what to do with me. Time to get on his good side, or at least, get some solid answers out of him.
“Teriarch.”
He looks down at me. I hesitate, and then bow stiffly. The Dragon looks nonplussed.
“What’s this?”
“Thank you for helping me locate my friend, even though you were the one who won the game of riddles.”
“Think nothing of it.”
The Dragon raises a claw and flicks it, almost like a Human would. He almost seems embarrassed—but then he perks up.
“Ah, yes, I did win, didn’t it? And now I will claim my prize. Tell me, Human. How did you evade my scrying for so long?”
He bends his head down eagerly towards me, and I take a step back involuntarily. I’d almost forgotten when I promised him. It seems to inconsequential, but—
“My name. When you tried to scry me, you weren’t using my proper name.”
“What?”
He frowns at me.
“That should not be. I questioned you under a truth spell. It would have been impossible for you to lie about your name.”
“Yes, but my name—my true name is Ryoka Griffin. I didn’t lie to you. But ‘Ryoka’ is only a translation. I was originally named in another language.”
To my surprise, Teriarch looks offended by this revelation. He starts grumbling to himself as his head rises up.
“That’s it? That hardly constitutes—a minor technicality like that isn’t part of—inferior spell design. I should have used…another language? But all peoples now speak—ah. Of course. You are from another world, after all. I should have factored that into my calculations.”
Now that I think of it—Teriarch isn’t even blinking over the revelation that I’m from another world.
“You knew who I was before this, didn’t you? Lady Magnolia told you.”
“She did.”
Teriarch is still frowning at something in the air. He mutters to himself, and this time I don’t understand the words at all. His eyes seem to shine with light that isn’t there, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck tingle. Is he trying to alter his spell? Or scry me?
“How do you know her?”
“That is none of your business.”
Teriarch looks at me dismissively. I twitch a bit at that. I hate it when people say stuff like that to me.
“Oh really? I’d say scrying on me without my permission constitutes a violation of my privacy. And Magnolia sending [Assassins] after me and constantly interfering in my life? That also sounds like my business.”
A pause. The Dragon eyes me. And I feel a bit of trepidation as I realize who I’ve snapped at this time. But his voice is just quiet and calm, without a hint of anger.
“She will speak with you in due time. If you have questions, I would advise you to speak with her. I may render her the occasional assistance, but her affairs are her own. I will not divulge her secrets.”
His eyes flick away, and I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Okay, somewhat kindly, yes. But…still a Dragon.
He looks back at the shimmering image in the air and I realize Erin and Octavia are still hovering in the air. It’s…well, it’s a bit disturbing to think that he can just watch anyone he wants. Big brother’s got nothing on a magical Dragon.
But Erin’s not going to the bathroom or doing anything else private. She’s still in Octavia’s shop, in one piece and not missing any limbs. I stare at my right hand. Hell, she’s not even injured.
She looks happy. I can’t tell what’s happened, but it seems like Octavia’s counting out some gold coins and Erin’s peering around and touching things. Damn it, did Octavia scam Erin out of a bunch of money? She’s a fast-talker and Erin’s not. If she’s trying to con Erin I’ll kick her stitched-up ass.
Teriarch indicates the image.
“I will teleport you to your friend—after erasing your memory of course.”
“What? You’re going to erase my memories?”
The talking Dragon has my full and undivided attention. He scratches at the side of his head as he replies, nonchalantly.
“Well, of course. I can’t have you remembering our encounter. Fear not; I am quite capable of erasing only certain memories. You will find yourself outside your friend’s shop with vague memories of arriving there.”
That doesn’t sound good. The free ride, maybe. But the rest? No.
Think. I spread my hands out in suppl
ication. I’ve got to talk him out of this.
“Oh mighty Teriarch—”
I pause. Nah, I can’t do that.
“—Look, don’t erase my memory. I won’t tell anyone what I’ve seen.”
He raises one eyebrow at me. And yes, Dragons have eyebrows. It’s more like a bony spur on their heads, but it works just as well for purposes of skepticism.
“I have heard that claim from countless lips. Each time it always ends with me raining fire and destruction upon the armies that come to slay me.”
He fixes me with a stare any basilisk would be proud of.
“Why should I trust your word now?”
“Besides—I did figure out who you were before this. If I wanted to expose your secret I would have already told someone. And how do you know I haven’t left messages to myself in case you erase my memory?”
Note to self: do that next time. At least Klbkch knows.
But Teriarch doesn’t seem impressed.
“In that case, I will simply have to control you with a spell and have you erase all of your records and kill all those you have told before you slit your own throat. How does that sound?”
I fold my arms.
“Won’t work. Even if you could get me to erase all of my contingency plans, the faeries would just tell me again.”
The Dragon pauses. He looks towards his cave entrance, almost uncertainly.
“They wouldn’t do that. They don’t choose sides.”
“But they are annoying.”
And I’d just bet they’d love to do that – if it occurred to their tiny little minds to do it. But the argument seems to work. Teriarch frowns.
“I can simply cast a spell on you to force you never to divulge my secrets. Or to cease speaking altogether. Which I am considering at this moment.”
Aha. Don’t push the Dragon too hard, Ryoka.
Shut up, Ryoka. I just shrug at him.
“You can do that. But that strikes me as an exceptionally crude and simple solution for a Dragon.”
He pauses.
“How so?”
“Well, aren’t you a Dragon? A famed creature of legend and myth with intelligence and wisdom far beyond that of even the greatest of mortals?”
“Mm. True.”
Teriarch smiles. Let’s see. Dragons are conceited, prideful, and not a little bit susceptible to flattery. I go on.
