Dragon Magic

by Megan Derr

  Binhadi looked even more stunned than Cemal and Sule. "I know. I just… had a strange feeling. I didn't think it would work. I just wanted to see what would happen."

  Mahzan looked ill and furious. "Your magic is evolving."

  Binhadi whipped around to look at him. "That's—" He broke off as an arrow flew from the royal ship and passed harmlessly through the shadow bird. "I see we've been spotted."

  "Soldiers must have been set to watch the ship, and send word if anyone showed up," Sule replied. "Most survivors would not take such a measure, so either the king has survived, or some prudent noble made it this far."

  As they reached the small pier where the other ship was moored, a soldier dressed in the deep scarlet of the royal army lifted an arm and cried, "Hail! Who goes there?"

  "Hail!" Binhadi called. "Citizens of the Heart seeking refuge!"

  "Prepare to be boarded!" the soldier replied.

  Sule scowled, but at a look from Binhadi, said nothing. Despite being North Captain, and spending a great deal of time in the royal castle, Sule had never done more than pass Binhadi in the halls. The king's warlock was not a man to trifle with. He gave Sule chills, the way he was so cool and calm despite the chaos their lives had abruptly become. He hadn't even seemed shaken as they fled; yesterday might have been a normal day, for all the emotion he currently displayed.

  They waited in silence as soldiers came aboard. "So who are you lot, then?" One soldier, a sergeant, demanded as he swept his gaze over them.

  Cemal snorted, his mouth quirking briefly.

  Binhadi's brows rose.

  "That is not how you address your superiors!" Sule barked, leaping down to the main deck, startling the four soldiers who had boarded. "Adverse times are not permission for inappropriate conduct—adverse times mean it is that much more important to act as you have been trained. You will address Warlock Binhadi with the accord he is due, or you will get off my ship."

  "North Captain!" The sergeant sputtered, stumbling back and trying to fall into formation all at once, succeeding only in nearly falling over and dragging the privates with him. "Apologies, North Captain. Warlock! I do beg pardon, my lord. We are of course ecstatic to see you survived. As well as the rest of you. However did you escape?" He saluted, bowed, then finally held still.

  Sule grunted, but kept glowering for good measure.

  For a moment, it almost looked as though Binhadi was amused, but the impression was so fleeting that Sule decided he was mistaken.

  When Binhadi answered, he was as cool as always. "We wounded the fearmonger, and fled while it retreated. It seemed to fly off, but it might have returned to the Heart, I do not know. Is King Yavuz safe?"

  "He is, my lord," the sergeant replied. "He and half the council managed to escape. They are currently somewhere safe."

  Sule could see they did not know precisely where that was, though if they had any brains about them, they might be able to figure it out. "What are your orders?"

  "North Captain!" the men said, saluting smartly. The sergeant replied, "Our orders are to guard the royal flagship and keep it ready for departure. We are also to direct all comers to the Weeping Valley."

  Nodding, Sule motioned for them to stand at ease, then turned to look at the others "Weeping Valley…" They all nodded, agreeing with him. Weeping Valley was the last village before the road split to head in two very separate but equally treacherous directions—up the Mountain of the Fallen to the Broken Monastery, or through the Black Forest.

  People did not often travel in Orhanis; it was simply too dangerous. The great walled cities for which their country was famous were not a product of ego, as so many foreigners believed. They were a necessity of survival. The Heart of the Dragon was built in the middle of the Great Lake so that it was virtually untouchable—

  Virtually, he thought with a deep, sudden, painful ache. Around him the other three flinched, and Mahzan glared at him. "Stop moping. We have no time for your whining, and I don't need the headache."

  Sule frowned. "Why does it seem like all of you can feel me? That shouldn't be possible."

  Mahzan's mouth tightened. "The same damned reason His Lordship can make an untethered shadow. Would you like to explain, my lord?"

  Binhadi ignored them, his attention only for the soldiers. "We will leave for the Weeping Valley shortly. Unless you've cause to stay and watch us, you may return to your ships. We thank you."

  "My lord!" the sergeant said, and saluted. He turned smartly to Sule and saluted again. "North Captain."

  "Sergeant," Sule replied, and dismissed them with a gesture. When they were alone again, he rested a hand lightly on the hilt of his sword. "The fool said your magic is evolving. I felt it when you created your shadow bird. All of you can feel my emotions, and I assume I am feeling yours as well. That speaks of a binding. Why are we still bound to you?"

  "I don't know," Binhadi said.

  Cemal cast him a look that said he didn't believe a word Binhadi had said.

  Mahzan stepped forward, face full of fury. "You're lying! You Oathbound us!"

  Binhadi looked at him coldly, and Sule almost took a step back. Given how much like a panicked bird Mahzan had seemed in the Hall of Kings, Sule was surprised he held his ground. Binhadi replied, "I did no such thing. Even if I'd wanted to, I have no idea how. Oathbinding is a myth, but pretending for a moment that it's not, it is still not something I was taught. I can take your power, but I know nothing about Oathbinding."

  "Fires!" Mahzan snarled. "I can still feel you, feel my magic attached to you. My emotion reading is growing stronger, and I would wager that if it grows strong enough, it will evolve into mind reading—which will drive me mad, if it does not kill me! Why did you do this to me?"

  "You of all people should be able to tell if I am lying about it," Binhadi replied. He abruptly stepped forward, into Mahzan's personal space, and laid one hand over Mahzan's heart, the other on his forehead. "Feel for yourself—am I lying? I do not know how to Oathbind. I did not do this on purpose."

  Mahzan's eyes shimmered bright silver, like moonlight. He jerked away with a gasp, stumbled, and fell down on his ass on the deck. He glared hatefully at Binhadi. "Do not ever do that again. I will kill you."

  "Am I lying?" Binhadi asked calmly.

  "No," Mahzan spat, and stormed off to the gangway and left the boat, stomping down the pier to vanish into the trees.

  Cemal sighed. "How did a temper like that climb all the way to King's Jester?"

  Sule sneered, but did not voice his opinion on that. Instead, he turned to Binhadi and said, "What in the Dragon's name did you do?"

  "Made him read my thoughts," Binhadi replied as they disembarked and followed after Mahzan. "He has great potential. I felt it the moment he gave me his power. I may be a shadow mage, but he is by far the most powerful of us."

  "Of course such power would be wasted on a fool," Sule said with a sigh. "Why is he throwing a child's tantrum?" He tried to jerk away as Binhadi grabbed his wrist and splayed his hand low on Sule's torso.

  "How would you like it if I made you feel the full weight of your magic? A good fire mage could raze the Heart—"

  Sule shoved him way, drew a dagger—and swore loudly and furiously as shadows bound him, forced him to stay still. "Your shadows will not always protect you, coward!"

  "As you can see," Binhadi said, "it is not hard to throw a child's tantrum when provoked at a deeply personal level."

  "Let me go," Sule said, and sheathed his dagger when Binhadi did so. "What does it mean that you Oathbound us?"

  "That would depend on the nature of the Oath," Mahzan said as they joined him in the forest.

  Sule glanced at him. Mahzan still looked shaken and angry, but mostly resigned. "What do you mean?"

  "There are different types of Oath. If he bound us accidentally, then we have no way of knowing for certain. Obviously it's not an Oath of Heart or an Oath of Ends, which can't be broken until specific requirements are meant—too spec
ific to be set accidentally." His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he stared at the deck in thought, folding his arms across his chest. Finally, just as Sule was about to snap at him, he looked up and said, "More than likely, we are sworn to what they called an Oath of Questing."

  "That sounds irritating," Sule said. He did not like the idea of being bound to anyone, for any reason.

  Mahzan shrugged. "We combined our powers under duress to kill the fearmonger. I think we are likely bound together until the fearmonger is dead. We are bound by the thing that brought us together. That is easy enough, relatively speaking, to do by accident."

  "That would make sense," Cemal said thoughtfully, almost looking amused. "So how does the bond affect us? What are the pros and cons? Obviously our magic is affected, but what else? I must say I am amused that the King's Jester is the one with all the answers, and the shadow mage who advises the king on all things magical knows practically nothing."

  Binhadi shrugged. "I know all the same stories and legends; you cannot rise to Warlock without learning about them."

  "Why do you know so much?" Sule asked, unable to fit together the annoying fool he saw every day with the almost scholarly man before him.

  "I read a lot," Mahzan replied. "His Majesty gave me leave to use his library as I liked, and I use it often. Used it often, anyway. I know you find it hard to believe I might have a brain, you sword-happy—"

  "Enough," Binhadi cut in.

  Mahzan angrily subsided. Sule ignored him, largely because it was true—he had never met a fool who knew more than it took to ruthlessly mock or deride someone for the amusement of others.

  Binhadi held up a hand when Cemal started to repeat his questions. "Unless we want to spend another night on that boat, I suggest that questions wait until later. We would be traveling together as far as Weeping Valley, anyway, so for the moment, the Oath little matters. Let us see what supplies we can obtain from the royal ship and head out. If we travel hard, we can make it to good camping ground by sunset, and reach Weeping Valley by tomorrow evening."

  "Agreed," Sule said. "Let's move." Not waiting for a reply, he headed back to the harbor to contend with the soldiers on the royal ship and ensure they were well-prepared for the journey ahead.

  A journey that would not end any time soon if they were correct about the Oath. Sule did not like it, not one bit. Getting close to people in any way, for any reason, was stupid. He worked hard to lead his men without being stupid enough to get too attached to them. Even the few people he had called friends had never been let in past a certain point. Damn Binhadi for causing this mess. He would rather be dead than bound.

  But a soldier did what was necessary, even under the most trying circumstances. He would find the fearmonger, kill it, and then he would rebuild his life.

  HEALER

  Cemal had once seen a feral dog and cat fight over a dropped scrap of fowl in the street. They'd hissed, snarled, bit, and scratched because they were both hungry and afraid and mistrusting. Because they had not known any better, had not realized that if they worked together, they might have gotten far more than a forgotten, rotting scrap of meat.

  Sule and Mahzan reminded him of that dog and cat, but unlike those poor starving animals, they were amusing to watch—fierce and stormy, but also stubborn and contrary.

  Despite the entertainment value to be had, it was nice to be away from the hissing and spitting for a few minutes. He took off his ruined, pale blue robes and tossed them aside, then shucked his underclothes and sent them to join the robes. Rummaging through the chest he had been pointed to, he pulled out clothes far more suited to the journey ahead: sturdy trousers; knee-high boots that fit better than he had dared hope; a good linen shirt; a padded jacket; leather jerkin and braces; and a heavy cloak. Last, he pulled out a good sword belt of well-tended leather, dark brown and long enough he looped it twice around his hips. It would hold well a good sword, a couple of daggers, and pouches for other supplies.

  Settling everything in place, Cemal let out a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his shorn hair, stupidly comforted by it. He had never cared one way or another about being a priest, but it was all he knew. Anything else he might have been had long been lost to revenge and time. He wondered if the Great Dragon was amusing himself by making Cemal a shield priest. Though he was proud to have been given such a trusted position, he would give anything to be back in the Heart of the Dragon, singing hymns and joking with Mahzan, performing the ceremonies that so many of his brothers seemed to dislike but which Cemal always found soothing and comforting.

  Grief washed over him anew as he remembered that he'd never hear any of them complain again. Were there even any priests remaining to ride out and inform the rest of Orhanis of the tragedy? Well, that was for the king to sort out. Cemal had his hands full at present; hopefully there would be another priest alive to help the king coordinate sending out messengers.

  It did not seem fair that so many good men were dead and he, who could not possibly be more unworthy of the robes he wore, was alive.

  Pushing the grief and guilt aside until he had time to face them properly, he reached for his hidden pocket—then realized he was a halfwit, because he had taken his robe off already. Rolling his eyes, he retrieved his robe and fished his prayer beads from their hidden pocket.

  He ran his thumb over them, chest aching, eyes stinging. They had been a gift from the High Priest himself, when Cemal had ceased his travels to accept a permanent place at the Monastery of the Dragon's Heart. The High Priest had been convinced that Cemal had found his true home there, had been so proud and pleased that such an accomplished priest would choose to settle in the Heart when he could have easily been put in charge of a smaller monastery in quieter places. He had never known that Cemal had only stopped traveling because he had found his sister's killer in the Heart of the Dragon.

  The beads were beautiful work, nothing like the ordinary wood and porcelain given to all priests when they chose to serve the Great Dragon. There were fifty-five beads in all—arranged in a repeating pattern of ten small, one large, all the way around. The fifty small beads were all carved from bone; the five large beads carved from amber. Every bead bore a rune, marking the prayer recited at that count. A fully trained priest could recite from start to finish the entire Hymnal of the Great Dragon; learning the intricate prayer—in the Old Language—took years.

  Cemal counted off each bead between fingers and thumb, murmuring the starting word for each prayer. He had never been a proper priest, but he had tried his best to act like one because it seemed the least he could do for his deceptions, the way he had used the Holy Order to move around the country in order to hunt down a single man and kill him.

  He finished counting and brought the beads to his lips, silently reciting a prayer for the dead. He did not think he was fit to say it aloud, to send them off to the sky to fly free. That was the duty and honor of a real priest, but he could not help saying it to himself. He hoped they were well, in whatever they found after life.

  Tucking the beads away, and his thoughts of his brothers with them, he focused on the matter at hand. Dressed for travel and whatever troubles they encountered along the way, he returned above deck to where the others already waited.

  He let his gaze wander around the ship, and paused briefly at Mahzan, who was dressed in plain clothes, all signs of the King's Jester erased. It was more than a little strange to see him so, all his color and vivacity gone, leaving a somber mien in their place.

  Of all of them, he had expected Mahzan to deal most poorly with their situation. Like Cemal, Binhadi had traveled, though he had done so with all the duties and luxuries of a lord. Sule had the training of a soldier behind him and also was not from the Heart. Mahzan, however… he was a true child of the Heart, one of those who had never left the island sanctuary, not even to visit the villages and cities on the banks of the Great Lake. How disconcerting must it be to not only lose his whole world, but immediately be thrust into a new one?


  Mahzan seemed to be taking it well enough, though—but perhaps that would change when they left the lake and the reality of their situation truly sank in. On the other hand, he seemed so consumed with his mind magic problems that perhaps everything else mattered very little. Cemal did not envy Mahzan that gift.

  Perhaps sensing him, Mahzan looked up and toward him. Cemal nodded and offered a brief smile. Mahzan smiled back and lifted a hand in greeting. "You are the priest who played with me in the yard, and again in the Hall of Kings."

  Cemal laughed. "Yes, and quite the dressing down I received on both occasions. Apparently I am not supposed to make jokes of a sexual nature, lest we forget the genitals of priests are purely for pissing."

  "Everybody loves to hate lewd humor," Mahzan said, gray eyes sparking briefly with amusement. He stood and looked Cemal up and down. "You look remarkably comfortable in your armor and sword for a priest. You really are a Shield. I would never have guessed."

  "I was a wandering monk for many years before I settled in the Heart," Cemal replied with a shrug. "Only a fool travels without becoming comfortable with a sword, or taking care to travel in the company of those with such skills, and I traveled too often to rely on others."

  "Only a fool travels," Sule cut in, turning away from the soldier with whom he had been speaking. There was more bitterness in his tone than perhaps Sule realized, but Cemal did not comment.

  Instead, he shrugged. "I suppose we are all fools, now. We will be traveling a great deal from here on out, for we cannot kill the fearmonger until we find it." He slid a glance to Mahzan. "You are the expert fool. You shall have to correct us when we are not being suitably foolish."

  Mahzan laughed, and Sule rolled his eyes. Cemal started to say something else, but stopped short as Binhadi stepped out of the captain's cabin. He tried not to stare, he really did, but it was supremely difficult not to stare at Binhadi. He was… too many things for Cemal to sort out. Stoic. Mysterious. Powerful. Beautiful. Something about him stirred feelings Cemal preferred to ignore.