The Heart of Magic

by Kyle Alexander Romines

  The blacksmith snorted derisively. “I don’t appreciate having my time wasted, lass.”

  Morwen produced a small handful of silver coins. “Does this change your mind?”

  The blacksmith’s eyes widened in wonder. “The size and materials are unusual, but I believe I can manage it.”

  “Can you have it ready by tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow? Something like this could take as long as three days!” He sighed, accepted the coins, and nodded reluctantly. “I suppose I could manage it with my apprentice’s help if we put the rest of the orders on hold.”

  “Excellent! I’ll leave you to it then.” Morwen whistled a merry tune and made her way through Adare. She showed Nessa to the stables and headed for the tavern to secure her belongings in a room before going in search of the druidess. To her surprise, the tavern appeared deserted. Morwen looked around. There was no sign of the proprietor in sight. “Hello? Is anyone here?” She was about to leave when the sound of snoring came from nearby, and Morwen spotted a pair of tiny legs partially hidden by barrels in the room’s corner.

  “More ale…” The voice belonged to a slumbering creature propped against the wall. He was a little man—roughly four feet tall—dressed in patched white trousers and an undersized overcoat missing most of its buttons. Large pointed ears perked out from behind a pointed red cap.

  Morwen couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of the creature, who quickly stirred and looked at her with a decidedly unpleasant expression.

  “What do you want?”

  Unable to suppress a smile, Morwen looked him over. His bulbous nose was purple, probably from drinking, as a tankard was clutched in his hand. He wore tall red stockings and matching shoes with silver buckles. “You’re a clurichaun, aren’t you?” Clurichauns were cousins of leprechauns ruled by a love of drink; most could be found in pubs, wine cellars, and the like.

  “What do you want, a prize? If you’re after gold, go find a leprechaun. If you can find one of the blasted devils.” The clurichaun massaged his temples and let out a belch. He was certainly not as cheerful as a leprechaun. “Fetch more ale or let me be.”

  “I’ve never encountered a clurichaun before.” Morwen bowed in a sign of respect. “What’s your name, little friend?”

  The clurichaun rolled his eyes. “Croker.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” She stuck out her hand, which the clurichaun ignored. “I’m Morwen, a mage.”

  Croker chortled, spilling what was left of his ale in the process. “You don’t look like a mage to me.”

  “Well, I suppose I’m not exactly a mage yet, but I will be soon.” She crouched low to look him in the eyes. “I’ve been sent here to help put a stop to the dragon attacks. Do you know anything about them?” He probably knew the nonhumans that dwelled in the forest. At the very least, he could tell her what had the goblins up in arms.

  “Dragon?” He scoffed at her and laughed at some private joke. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”

  Morwen suspected he knew more than he was telling, but before she could pose another question, the door opened, and a woman entered. When she looked back, the clurichaun had vanished.

  “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” The woman wore vibrant green robes. A crown of twigs and flowers rested atop her long brown locks. “I am Tabitha, and you must be Lady Morwen of Cashel.”

  Morwen’s brow arched. “How did you know that?”

  “We received word you were coming. I knew you had arrived when I sensed another magic user enter the village.” Tabitha smiled. “Your reputation precedes you.”

  “It does?”

  “Certainly. The people of Limerick are fortunate to have your help in their time of need.” Tabitha’s appearance was youthful, and her voice was almost musical. “The dragon has reduced Murroe and Croom to ash. I have only just come from tending to burn victims from the last attack. If the beast is not stopped, I fear they are but the first victims.”

  Morwen glanced away from the spot where Croker had disappeared and straightened herself. “Have you seen the dragon?”

  Tabitha shook her head. “By the time I arrived in Croom, it was too late. I have used my arts to search for the creature without success. It is my hope that my presence here has dissuaded the dragon from attacking, but that is only a partial remedy. As long as the monster roams free, the people of Limerick are in danger. It is fortuitous that a pair of heroes have arrived to set things right.”

  Morwen felt a stirring of pride. “I think I’ve come up with something to help Darragh capture the dragon.”

  Tabitha drew closer and raised her voice a timbre as if to emphasize her point. “It must be destroyed, Lady Morwen. There is no other way.” For a moment, the mirth left her eyes, replaced by something darker.

  Morwen’s magic whispered to her of danger, as it had in the great hall, and she took a step back. “If there are any witnesses to the attacks, we would like to speak with them.”

  “Of course. I will see that the villagers accommodate your request.”

  After Tabitha supplied her with a list of everyone who had witnessed the dragon’s attacks, Morwen excused herself to begin her investigation. When Tabitha offered to accompany her, Morwen politely declined. Her gut told her there was more to the druidess than there appeared on the surface.

  Her line of questioning was met with frustrating progress. No one had actually witnessed the dragon in the act of burning Croom or Murroe. The few who claimed to have seen the dragon only caught it in shadowy glimpses that resulted in wild discrepancies in their descriptions. Still, they at least confirmed the creature had wings and a tail. She supposed that was something at least, but without knowledge of the dragon’s size and behavior it was nearly impossible to deduce the creature’s species. The goblin raids had kept the villagers from the forest, so no one knew where the monster had its lair.

  When Morwen returned to the tavern, feeling no closer to the truth, the clurichaun was absent. Although this delighted the tavern’s patrons, Morwen was disappointed she didn’t have another chance to question the creature. Perhaps adventuring wasn’t as simple as she thought. Undaunted, she spent the night reading her bestiary under candlelight. Most dragons were as crafty as they were dangerous, and she needed to learn everything she could before Darragh and the others confronted the beast.

  In the morning she collected the finished chains from the blacksmith and hitched Nessa to the company’s supply wagon before taking a seat on the wagon and retrieving her wand to work on the enchantment. It was a short journey from Adare to the entrance to Lakewood Forest, which covered a wide swath of central Limerick. Broadleaf and conifer trees dominated the woodland, and abundant wildlife teemed within the vibrant forest. Morwen spent much of the morning charming the chains. It was a tricky enchantment, and she went over the chains several times to make sure she’d managed it correctly. When she finished, she set the chains aside and glanced upon her work with pride.

  “What are those?” The question came from Darragh, who admired her handiwork.

  “Chains of binding. They’re for the dragon.”

  “What do they do?”

  “The chains turn a creature’s strength against it. The more the dragon struggles, the more the chains will weigh it down. This way, we can capture the dragon without having to kill it. Perhaps there’s a reason it’s been attacking villages.” The enchantment was adapted from another spell, but the idea was hers. Wait until the mages learn of this. She imagined Dorian’s face when she brought the captured dragon into the great hall for all to see.

  Darragh looked over the chains with interest. “Will it work?”

  “I believe so. Of course, there’s still the matter of getting the shackle around the creature’s neck, but I suppose I’ll leave that to you.”

  Darragh’s laughter died abruptly when he noticed her expression. “Does something trouble you?”

  Morwen sighed. “Something about this whole affair doesn’t si
t right with me. The witnesses confirmed the reports the creature only attacked at night. Murroe and Croom were set ablaze after dark, and no one saw the creature in the act.”

  “Aye. Those I spoke to told me the same. Until the fires, the monster had only been known to steal sheep and goats.” He narrowed his gaze in her direction. “What of it?”

  Morwen shrugged. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that it hasn’t been seen attacking anyone? From everything I’ve read, it’s unusual for a dragon to display such shy behavior.” While not all dragons were harmful, many would have no qualms about eating humans. “Then again, there are many varieties of dragon. Once we find its tracks, I’ll be able to tell you more about what we’re up against.” For a moment, she thought she spotted a figure watching them from the brush. Morwen glimpsed the top of a red hat just before the figure disappeared.

  They passed over a low limestone ridge, and the path led them deeper into the forest. Animals and vegetation flourished from the proximity to streams and offshoots from the River Maigue, which ran through the forest. Morwen noticed an abundance of yew trees unusual for the area as they ventured farther. Yew wood had considerable magical properties, and Morwen sensed a magical quality to the ancient forest—unsurprising, given the numbers of nonhuman creatures reported to dwell there. She wondered what secrets the forest concealed.

  Shadows covered the path as they passed through a darker part of the forest. Morwen felt a sudden sense of foreboding. She peered past the brush as an eerie quiet fell over the woods. None of the others appeared to notice, but a quick glance told her that Nessa and the horses were spooked too.

  Without warning, a black arrow sailed from somewhere in the trees and hit the wagon’s side. Before she could shout a warning, dozens more arrows came from both sides of the trail. Shouts broke out as the riders attempted to control their horses. A horn resounded through the air, and goblins rushed the path from all sides.

  Darragh drew his sword. “It’s an ambush!”

  Morwen tensed. The creatures were everywhere. Archers crawled, spiderlike, down trees while others wielding clubs, spears, and club, advanced on foot. The goblins’ armor was shabby, and their equipment was rusted and weathered, but they were quick and nimble. Moreover, they had a clear advantage in numbers.

  A spear thrown from a goblin sent Darragh’s horse crashing to the ground, and he and the others fell back to form an ever-shrinking defensive circle around the wagon. “Get out of here, Morwen! Run back to the village and send word to Thane Ronan!”

  “I can’t leave Nessa!” Morwen ducked under an arrow, leapt over the wagon’s side, and landed on the soft earth. A goblin chased after her, and she lost her balance and fell to the ground. The creature pulled her back by her ankle as she fumbled for her wand. She kicked free from his claws and scrambled forward in the dirt, but the goblin pursued her, and she landed on her back.

  Holding his club high, the goblin stared down at her with a set of reptilian eyes. His skin was a dark shade of green, and his ears ended in sharp points. “These woods are ours! Leave now or die!”

  Morwen grabbed a handful of mud and lunged forward, taking him by surprise. She threw the mud in his eyes and trained her wand on him. “Láib daille shealadach!” The spell, meant to temporarily blind him, was only partially successful. One of the goblin’s eyes swelled shut, but the other remained open. Still, the spell confused him long enough for her to sweep his legs out from under him. After hurrying to Nessa’s side, she unhitched the mare, swung herself onto the saddle, and took off down the path. Goblins blocked the path south, so instead she fled deeper into the forest.

  Before long, the sounds of the skirmish faded behind her, and Morwen slowed her pace. “Good work, Nessa.” She affectionally rubbed her mount’s sweat-drenched crest. Where am I? She had lost sight of the path. “I don’t suppose you know the way back.” Morwen dismounted and watered Nessa at a nearby stream.

  Two tracks stared back at her from the mud at the stream’s mouth. Morwen snatched her bestiary from her satchel and knelt beside the stream to inspect the tracks. The prints appeared relatively fresh. Judging from the indentions in the mud, the creature that left them had three long toes on each foot ending in talon-like claw points. She flipped through the bestiary in hopes of identifying the creature. Perhaps the dragon was closer than she thought.

  A sound startled her from her work, and she looked over her shoulder and noticed a short figure suspended upside down from a tree by a rope. Sunlight gleamed off the creature’s mostly bald head as the little man squirmed in vain to free himself. He succeeded only in hitting his head against the tree and unleased a string of profanities that made her blush.

  “I know you! You’re the clurichaun from the tavern.” Morwen brightened at once.

  Croker groaned. “It’s you.” His tankard lay on the ground beside his hat.

  “So it was you I saw earlier. What are you doing out here? Were you following us?” She doubted it was a coincidence she had spotted him shortly before the goblins attacked.

  “Enjoying a stroll.” The clurichaun gestured to the rope. “What’s it look like?”

  Morwen inspected the ropes. It appeared Croker had wandered into a trap set for the goblins. “What are you really doing out here?”

  He glowered at her. “The forest is my home. Are you going to set me free or not?”

  Morwen put her hands on her hips. “Not so fast. I think you know more than you’re telling.” She looked him over. “If I remember correctly, clurichauns and leprechauns are bound to serve whoever captures them. I’ll settle for directions to the dragon’s lair.”

  Croker crossed his arms. “You humans are all the same. You only help others when there’s something in it for you.”

  “Is that so?” Morwen took out the dagger Prince Aiden had gifted her and cut through the rope. Croker dropped like a log and hit his head on the ground with a thud. Morwen laughed, earning a glare from the creature, and returned her dagger to its sheath. “The choice is yours, my friend.”

  Croker stooped to retrieve his red hat. “Wouldn’t you rather me show you the way to the village?” He dusted off the hat and returned it to his head. “How do you know I won’t lead you astray?”

  “I’m choosing to trust you.”

  He narrowed his gaze at her. “Why do you want to find your dragon so badly anyway?”

  Morwen gave a three-fingered salute. “I only want to help the citizens of Limerick. That includes the nonhumans that live here.”

  Croker shot her a skeptical look and waved her forward. “Come on then. We’ve a long path ahead, and the day isn’t getting any younger.”

  The pair started north under the trees’ shade. Morwen and Croker took turns riding Nessa as the day stretched on. The clurichaun’s small legs didn’t reach the stirrups, and Morwen walked holding Nessa’s lead rope while whistling a lively tune.

  “Must you do that?” Croker massaged his temples from the back of the horse. “I’ve a splitting headache.”

  “Why are you so sour? Aren’t clurichauns supposed to be happy creatures—fond of singing, music, and dance? Is it just me you dislike, or is it everyone?”

  “It’s not just you. It’s humans I’m not fond of.” Croker’s defiant expression softened a little. “The first settlers here lived in peace with the forest dwellers. They were our friends.” He smiled, if only a little. “Those were the days. There were great feasts and dancing the like of which you can’t imagine.” His smile quickly faded, replaced again by his near-perpetual frown. “More men came. They cut down the trees to build their towns and villages and paid monster hunters to kill the wild creatures. Each year the forest grows smaller. When it disappears, so will we.”

  Morwen felt a stirring of pity. Untamed lands grew fewer as mankind’s influence spread outward. As a magician, she was caught between science and progress and magic and the old ways. “We’re not all the same, you know.” She shot him a sideways glance. “The goblin who attacked
me in the ambush—he didn’t hurt me when he had the chance. Why?”

  Croker shrugged. “Maybe there’s more to them that you’re not seeing. You’re a magician, aren’t you?”

  “Mage,” Morwen corrected. “And if you know so much, you could just tell me what’s going on.” The sky darkened with evening’s approach, and black clouds appeared above. Soon Morwen was forced to shield herself from the rain with her hood. “How much further?” Thunder drowned out the sound of her voice as she marched through the mud.

  Croker held a finger to his lips. “We’re close.”

  Lightning flashed, illuminating where the river emptied into a lake beyond the trees. When Morwen glanced back, Croker had vanished again. She sighed and shook her head. “Clurichauns. Come on, Nessa—let’s see if we can find you a place out of the rain.” After hitching the mare, Morwen carefully crept closer to the lake. Rain-filled prints matching those she had spotted earlier were scattered around the shore.

  A ripple ran across the lake’s surface. Morwen watched a monstrous shape rise from the water from her hiding place behind the trees. The creature approached the shore, dragging a long, barbed tail through the water behind its snakelike form. Water beaded from its leathery wings as it emerged. The creature was large—roughly the size of a horse—but smaller than she had expected.

  Morwen inched forward to the bushes for a better look. Another flash of lightning revealed the creature’s sharp fangs and claws. The light gleamed off vivid blue scales. Morwen’s eyes wandered to its legs. There were only two, mirroring the tracks she saw earlier and the prints along the shore.

  The truth hit her at once. The creature wasn’t a dragon at all. It was a wyvern. Unlike dragons, which walked on four legs, wyverns possessed only two. While the two species were often mistaken for each other due to their shared wings and reptilian features, wyverns were unable to breathe fire and were usually far friendlier to humans.

  That’s why none of the witnesses saw the creature breathing fire. Morwen frowned. If the wyvern wasn’t responsible for the fires, what was?