Dragon Magic

by Megan Derr

  And he'd realized someone had been looking for the island treasure that did not exist, a tired legend associated with his family that the islanders mentioned as a joke. Every islander was related to this pirate or that, every islander had a far-fetched tale.

  The memory stone he had bought for her, had used all of his money to obtain, had been shattered near her body, as though dropped there and smashed by a boot heel. But Cemal had figured out which of the bastard visitors had done it.

  He had stared the bastard right in the face at a banquet in the Heart and realized the man didn't recognize him, so negligent did he find one murder, so forgetful of a night that was nothing to him, but a tragedy to Cemal.

  "Fires of the Great Dragon." Sule stared at him in disbelief.

  Cemal flinched.

  Mahzan's voice came clear as a bell in his mind. You're the one who murdered the late North Captain.

  "Yes," Cemal said, seeing little point in denying it. "It's the only death I'm not sorry about." He met Sule's gazed, dared him to be angry—

  And only stared, bemused, when Sule let him go and stepped away. "You know, the woman we spoke with after the body was discovered swore up and down that 'a priest done it' but we could never find evidence."

  Cemal smiled briefly in amusement at Sule's predictable outrage that someone had got something by him. "I was cloistered in private prayer, locked away in a room in a remote area of the monastery so that I would not be disturbed. Priests are trusting; they never knew I picked the lock and slipped out over the back wall and returned the same way to lock myself in again."

  Incredible, Mahzan said. I heard ugly rumors about that man when I was performing privately for the king and his inner circle.

  You probably didn't hear the worst of it, Sule said. He was vile, but no one knew that until his murder revealed a lot of ugly things. They were amongst the reasons I was promoted to North Captain despite my age. The royal army owes you a debt, Cemal.

  Cemal laughed, uncaring that he probably sounded dangerously close to hysterical. I never thought those would be the words I heard when someone finally learned of my deeds.

  "Well, we cannot give you a commendation," Sule said, and smiled faintly. "But I certainly will never turn you in. Remember all the reasons you killed him, Shield. I would bet my sword the men you killed tonight were guilty of similar crimes."

  If they weren't enchanted so heavily they committed all those crimes bespelled, though I agree with you it was probably money persuading them. I would wager they're also happy to be dead, cheap consolation though that is, Mahzan added. I for one am glad we're all alive. At least you did more than get yourself gutted and fall to the ground like the bumbling fool in a bad play.

  I dare you to say that when Binhadi is awake to hear it, Sule said dryly.

  I'm a fool, not suicidal, Mahzan replied. We are speaking to the villagers, and as they are free of all enchantment now, they are… Well, let us say far from pleased with everything that Dree did. We will have no problems with the mess we made of the inn. I think Malea is agreeing to help get everything back in order, though I think she does not want to stay here after everything calms down.

  "I would imagine not," Cemal said. "A home that carries such unhappy memories is no longer home." Every now and then he ached for the sea, for the smell of salt in the air, falling asleep to the sound of the waves, waking to walk in the tide.

  But then he remembered his parents' funeral, his sister's body, having to bury her alongside them. The way so many could no longer bear to look him in the eye. When he recalled all that, thoughts of the sea turned his stomach.

  "You do not think of the Heart as home," Sule said.

  "No," Cemal agreed. "I love the Heart, but it was never home to me, not the way the Isles were." He doubted he would ever find home again. The priesthood was good enough, though. He did miss the… order, he supposed, that came with a pious life.

  Sule snorted. "Pious, indeed, said the priest with a sense of humor ribald enough to keep pace with our fool. Come, we should return to Binhadi. Mahzan, when will you be able to rejoin us?

  Soon, I think, Mahzan replied. They're not interested in me.

  Grunting, Sule led the way back into the inn, up the stairs to their room. Cemal moved toward Binhadi, almost helplessly, sitting on the edge of the bed to examine him. He would never forget how it had felt, that moment when Dree had stabbed Binhadi.

  Binhadi still wore his ruined robes, torn and caked in dried blood across the gut. It was a pity, Sule thought stupidly; the robes were beautiful—high quality wool, well-tailored, richly died. Even though such fine clothes were wasted on their dull travels, Binhadi wore them, a beautiful, intimidating lord wherever he went. He wasn't going to be happy to wake up and learn his fine clothes were fit only for the scrap pile.

  Somehow, I do not think Binhadi will care that his robes are ruined, given his gut is intact, Mahzan commented, but Cemal felt an undercurrent of understanding.

  "I am going to fetch bath water," Sule said, eyeing the fire he had lit critically for a moment. "We need rest, but you will feel much better when you are no longer covered in blood."

  Cemal grimaced, but did not reply. He simply continued to watch Binhadi, awed and grateful that he was alive. He curled his fingers as though holding his prayer beads, softly murmuring a prayer of thanks.

  For someone who says that he is only a priest as a matter of convenience, you seem to possess a great deal of faith, Mahzan said.

  Habit, Cemal said. Even if I were truly devout, I cannot believe the Great Dragon would have much use for a monster.

  Confusion brushed along his thoughts, and Cemal saw a flurry of brief images—paintings and sketches that looked familiar, of wolves and birds, priests, books, the Great Dragon taking various forms—

  He stopped short. What is all that?

  Books, obviously, Mahzan said, humor in the words. Cemal started to demand a better explanation, but stopped when the door opened and Mahzan appeared. Smiling tiredly, Mahzan said, "Sule is getting the water, though I think he will be a few more minutes. As to the books—you said you used to study avidly, and I would wager you still do. How can you have visited practically every temple and monastery in the kingdom and not read about Avatars?"

  "What are those?" Cemal asked, honestly baffled.

  Mahzan scowled, though Cemal could see it was not at him. "Avatars are not that long gone. There were Avatars less than two centuries ago!"

  Cemal laughed. "I feel you should have been a scholar, Mahzan, for all that you are a marvelous jester. Yes, I studied extensively, but magic was of little interest to me. I preferred geography, history, the cultures and religions of other countries, that sort of thing." It was amusing how easily flustered Mahzan was by a compliment, when Cemal had never known the King's Jester to do anything but lap up any and all attention. Perhaps it was part of the performance.

  "Yes, actually," Mahzan muttered, stomping across the room to his pack, avoiding Cemal's gaze. "Anyway, as I told you once—and as you have obviously discovered—shapers with enough power have the ability to alter their shape. Normally, a shaper projects his magical energies and transforms them. But at the level of power you have attained, you transform the energies from within—transform the whole. Once, those with the ability to alter their forms were called the Dragon's Avatars because only the Great Dragon can shift between different forms, from Dragon to human to any beast in existence. As I said: for someone who is only a priest because it is expedient, you are up to your ears in faith."

  The words whirled in Cemal's mind. Avatar. But he still felt more like a monster.

  "I agree with Sule—I value our lives more than theirs, and if they did not want to die, they should not have gotten involved. Even when I almost died because of that bandit, I blamed no one but myself. Well, and him for kidnapping and almost murdering me. The point is, we both entered the fight knowing what could happen, and those choices are on our own heads. If you do not want to r
epeat your actions in the bar, practice your new abilities. If his royal highness were awake and not swooning like a coddled youth over a little knife wound, he would be lecturing you to do the very same. I would hazard to say he will be positively ecstatic to know you are able to transform. He is somewhat ruthless that way."

  Cemal laughed. "I think he would have something to say about you, of all people, admonishing me to practice using my new abilities. I would feel sorry for you, Mahzan, but you thrive as a mind mage."

  Mahzan made a face as he rose with fresh clothes. Setting them aside, he stripped down to his breeches and combed his fingers through his hair, swearing as they caught on the dried blood at his forehead. Cemal shook his head and moved to the wash basin, rinsing out a cloth and going to Mahzan. "You make quite the respectable sight with blood all over your face."

  "Nothing about me has ever been respectable," Mahzan replied. "I do not see why that should change anytime soon."

  "Fair enough," Cemal said with another chuckle. He finished cleaning Mahzan's face, then moved to return the bloodied cloth to the table with the basin. Glancing again at Binhadi, he asked, "Should we remove his robes? It can't be comfortable sleeping in that."

  Mahzan snorted. "At least he is sleeping and not dead. I for one do not remove the clothes of other people unless I am getting something very particular for my trouble."

  Cemal coughed as some of those particulars slipped through the bond before Mahzan slapped a wall up. He cast Mahzan a look. "You are not normally so careless."

  "Tired, and my head hurts," Mahzan replied. "I cannot wait to go back to the days when people were not trying to kill me."

  Sule's dry amusement filled their minds. I sincerely doubt there was ever a time and place when someone did not want to kill you.

  I am certain the same could be said for you, Mahzan replied, just as Sule opened the door and hauled in two buckets filled with steaming water.

  "Someone else can go downstairs and fetch the other two buckets," Sule said.

  "I'll do it," Cemal said, leaving Mahzan and Sule to bicker and snipe. At the foot of the stairs, a maid set down the second of two buckets. She flushed as she saw him. "Anything else I can do for you, my lord?"

  Lord? Too tired to correct the mistake, Cemal shook his head and hefted the buckets. "No, thank you. Goodnight."

  "Goodnight," she replied shyly, and dipped a curtsy before bustling off.

  Cemal turned around carefully and headed back up the stairs. He set the buckets down by the fire then collapsed in the nearby chair, content with not moving while Mahzan and Sule readied the bath.

  They had just succeeded in getting Cemal into the tub when a soft groan came from the bed. Cemal dropped the wash rag he'd just picked up; it landed in the tub with a splash and sent a small bit of water spilling over the side. He stared at the bed, where Binhadi struggled to sit up briefly before giving up with another groan.

  "What happened?"

  "You were gutted," Sule replied. "For someone who said he had battle experience, you are terrible at dodging sharp objects."

  Binhadi did not voice a reply, but his opinion of Sule's comment was scathingly clear in their minds.

  "We owe Malea another debt," Mahzan said.

  "I think she will be glad to see the back of us," Binhadi replied. "Are the rest of you well? What happened after I passed out?"

  Mahzan shared all that had transpired since Binhadi was stabbed. Cemal flinched at seeing himself turn into a monster from another's eyes. Whatever Mahzan said about Avatars, a beast was a beast. He could still taste blood at the back of his throat, could remember what it was like to bite down on bone and shatter it like dried twigs. How easily his teeth had slid through flesh and muscle.

  Sule cast him a look. "And now we all know what it's like as well."

  "Sorry," Cemal muttered, and tried to put up the barriers as Mahzan had taught him. But he barely had the energy to retrieve the dropped rag and start washing himself. His trembling hands weren't helping.

  Mahzan made a soft, indecipherable noise and strode over to him. Snatching the rag from Cemal's hand, he crouched to wet it anew then began to scrub.

  "Stop that!" Cemal snapped, and grabbed the cloth out of his hands. "Get away from me."

  "Here I thought Sule would be the fussy one about other people touching him," Mahzan said. "Stop dragging on. We'd all like a turn at getting clean tonight."

  "Speak for yourself, fool," Sule muttered, and though he clearly tried to tamp down on it, some of his fear and discomfort whispered through the bond.

  Mahzan rolled his eyes. "Like we don't all know your bits don't dangle."

  Sule jerked, the color bleeding from his face, fear and pain and anger bleeding through their connection before he slammed down his barriers. "Shut your damned mouth, fool. It's not your place to—"

  "To what? State the obvious? That is in fact exactly what I do," Mahzan said, standing and crossing his arms across his chest. "You are the only one in this room who cares."

  "Dragon eat you!" Sule snarled, and shoved past him so hard that Mahzan fell back on his ass.

  The door slammed shut behind him, leaving them in a resounding silence.

  Binhadi broke it with a long sigh. "Mahzan, don't we have enough problems without you being a callous bastard?"

  Mahzan made a face. "I wasn't being callous."

  "Yes, you were, whatever your intentions. Go fix your mess."

  Mahzan pushed himself to his feet. "Fine." The door slammed again as he departed.

  Cemal heaved a sigh and finally set to scrubbing off, grimacing at how quickly the water turned red. When he was as clean as he was going to get, he dried off roughly and pulled fresh clothes from his saddlebags. "I know we are all close in age, but sometimes I feel those two are years younger."

  "Older in some ways, younger in others," Binhadi replied. "Would you help me out of these clothes?"

  "Of course." Cemal crossed the room and helped Binhadi sit up, then crouched to remove his boots before starting on the rest. "How are you feeling?"

  "Sore. Tired. I'll be fine by morning."

  "Would you like to wash?" Cemal asked. "I can help you."

  Binhadi hesitated, and he must have been more tired than he was admitting for so much emotion to show on his face. Finally he nodded. "Yes, I would like that. I have no desire to smell like blood all night."

  Cemal dumped the dirty bath water and refilled it from the remaining bucket. "Let me get more water."

  It took him several minutes to find the girl and have more water heated, but she also offered to bring up food and ale. She flushed bright pink when she saw Binhadi standing naked in the tub, set the tray on the table, and all but ran from the room.

  Binhadi's mouth quirked just the barest bit. "I had not thought I'd become that unattractive."

  Cemal laughed and looked Binhadi over himself. If he were not so exhausted, and in a better frame of mind, he'd have enjoyed the lookover immensely. "I don't think lack of attraction was the problem." He set down the newly filled buckets then retrieved two more from the foot of the stairs.

  When all the buckets were in the room, he closed the door and finished filling the tub before scrubbing Binhadi clean.

  "Thank you," Binhadi said when he was finished. Cemal helped him out of the tub and into fresh clothes.

  Once he was settled, Cemal filled a plate with food and poured a cup of ale. "It's not good wine, but it will have to do."

  "I'm alive to drink it; I am not so arrogant I would not be grateful for that. Thank you again."

  Cemal nodded and fixed a plate of his own, sitting next to Binhadi on the bed when silently ordered to do so.

  A comfortable silence fell between them, though Cemal could feel Binhadi's thoughts and see in pale flashes the way he shuffled through all the memories Mahzan had dumped on him.

  So why a wolf? Binhadi asked eventually.

  Cemal paused with a bite of potato halfway to his mouth. "What?"

/>   You're a shaper. You can literally give magic physical shape. Any shape. Yet time and again you gravitate to wolves. Now that your magic has evolved enough you can alter your own shape, the first shape you pick in the middle of a blind rage is also wolf-like.

  I… don't think I ever really noticed that, Cemal replied, his gut clenching, eyes stinging before he angrily wiped his face and banished further tears. We don't have wolves on the island. Some travelers stopped there for a time, though, and had two enormous black wolves they had tamed. My sister was entranced. She was obsessed with someday having a wolf of her own. It was the only clear memory I could pull from the broken stone. I think she died hoping a wolf would save her. He looked at his food, then rose and carried it back to the table, no longer hungry.

  When he turned back, Binhadi held out his empty plate and cup, a pensive look on his face. But he didn't speak until after Cemal had set those dishes on the table as well. "So your first instinct upon seeing one of us harmed was to shift into a form you associate with protecting the most important person in your world. That sounds much like an Avatar to me."

  Cemal's eyes pinched shut as the words struck him as hard as a fist to the gut. "I couldn't save her. Couldn't save any of us, just murdered everyone after the fact. Trying to dress up senseless slaughter as a noble deed doesn't make it less of a terrible one."

  "It wasn't a noble deed—it was an unhinged action driven by protective instincts. We all of us are changing and struggling. Now that you have managed the first shift, you can begin to control it. Was that not the point of this excursion? To learn to better control ourselves and work together? We are as culpable in those deaths as you, so at least share the guilt rather than carry it alone. That being said, you should listen to Sule: those men chose to fight. They and they alone are responsible for that choice, and they knew the risks. Let it go or you will crush yourself with the weight and take all of us down with you."

  "Stop getting stabbed," Cemal said with a weary smile. "You and Sule are supposed to be the experienced combatants, and you're the ones who have been most severely hurt so far. You've a lot of nerve reprimanding Mahzan."