***
The children were busy playing with clay by the time we could hear the start of a fight outside. We were in one of the innermost sections of the castle. The inhabitants expected one final battle while the discussions were ongoing.
Nest said when it came to making peace with dragons, the Drake Elders would talk with the most influential and powerful dragons. Then those dragons would strongly encourage the other dragons to stop. Usually strong encouragement involved pain. While the drakes lived in a community, the dragons did not, nor did they much appreciate being told what to do.
At the start of our waiting period, when the children were excitable and still settling into the thrill of another battle, I found a boy's body. He wasn't dead, but he almost seemed like he was. I couldn't wake him up.
I had called for Nest and the children gave me a very odd look, as though I had not found a gravely ill child, but rather a sleeping one. Nest came, looked at the boy, and called his name twice.
A dragon the size of a large dog tottered over and blinked at us. Nest said something to him, and he approached the body, reached forward a round snout, and touched the chest. For an instant, nothing happened, then there was a flash of light and the other children pressed forward to watch, cutting off my view. Next I knew, the dragon was gone and the boy was running around the room with his arms held out like wings.
“He's earned his second form early in life,” said Nest, and she would say no more on the subject. The boy animated, bragging about his accomplishment. Older children who hadn't shifted yet watched enviously while he went back and forth between shapes. After a time, he went to sleep and we regained some normalcy.
I had grown accustomed to the relative silence when Nest brought out figurines from her pouch and set them one by one on the floor where we sat. The older children grumbled, recognizing the layout and cast of characters at a glance.
“We've heard this one.”
“It bears retelling,” Nest said, snapping her fingers. The clay cracked about the surface, then each figure burst into motion, a layer of dust falling about their feet. The wizard blinked, stretched his arms out, and brought his staff down on the floor, a surprising snap coming from the fist-sized man.
“It's not as good as Mordon's,” someone said quietly.
Nest laughed. “That is as it should be, one generation improving from the last.”
The room went quiet as the clay wizard spoke.
“Camelot is lost without us, Morgana.”
I missed Morgana's reply when Nest scratched her head and asked if she should restart the figures from the beginning. The children insisted this is when it wasn't boring anymore, and they would not stand to watch the introduction again.
Morgana's clay figure was much more enchanting than Mordon's rendition. This version gave her thick ringlets, a delicate face, and a lean figure. Morgana walked to join Merlyn, an aged figure with knee-length beard and slightly crooked back.
“Merlyn.” Morgana's figure drew away from him. “It is too late for Camelot.”
“No, it is never too late,” Merlyn said. He looked at her. “Why do you know this?”
“When I was captured—I had a choice. You, or Camelot, and you're too important.”
He slammed his staff and Morgana fell. I heard the battle coming nearer—it seemed some dragon had slipped inside and was coming towards us.
“Camelot is my life!” he yelled. The room shook, dust fell from the ceiling. I didn't think the clay puppet caused it.
“As it grows, you die. Let someone else raise Camelot!”
“Never.”
Morgana cried out, “I cannot lose you!”
“My life will one day be forfeit,” Merlyn said. “But Camelot was to continue! And now you say my life's work is gone! Gone, and by your choice!”
“—Merlyn—” The door rammed and shuddered as someone tried to break it down. The children didn't seem to notice—at least the younger ones didn't.
“No! Begone from my sight! You are a traitor! A cold traitor! Set to destroying all I love! Begone from me now!” Merlyn yelled, and brought down his staff. Morgana shrieked and her figure went back to being motionless clay.
The children cheered, but I exchanged a sad look with Nest. The difference between good and evil, black and white, was not a clearly painted line, but rather it was a smooth gradient.
The room gave another rattle through its timbers, shaking us to the very quick. Nest cast one glance over her shoulder, as though to check that no one had broken through yet. “Bring the babies here!” she called.
The babies were brought forth, and Nest muttered a couple of words that seemed somehow familiar, yet I was confident I had never heard them before. One by one, she pressed two fingers against each child's forehead. Their eyes fluttered closed and they fell into a deep sleep.
“That will help you hide,” Nest said, then waved her hands. “Off with ye! To the wind!”
The older children—many I suspected were siblings—took the younger children and ran to the walls. Pulling aside tapestries, they revealed hidden tunnels just large enough for a grown man to crawl through.
I hesitated, not sure where I should go. I had a feeling I should stay and fight, but I also had a notion that a human like me would be in very poor shape against fire-breathing dragons.
Nest turned to me, her eyes wild and morphing into the blood orange eyes of a dragon. “Go with Denise and the baby! Get on the walls and watch for dragons. Denise will know where. Denise!”
The girl broke from the rush and came forward. With one last glance at Nest—whose wrinkled skin was transforming into the ridged scales of a dragon. Denise said, “This way!”
Denise pulled aside a tapestry that no one else had gone to.
The tunnel made several twists and turns at the very beginning, apparently to deter flames and any claws or tails that searched after escapees, then it was straight and angled upwards. Denise and I traded carrying the baby.
It seemed to take us a long time to travel. We were both pressed to go faster. I didn't know where the other tunnels let out, but I wanted to be there to guard the opening before anyone started emerging.
“They're supposed to stay at the mouth of the tunnel 'till we give the all-clear, but that never happens,” Denise said.
Our tunnel rattled and a crack formed between us. We held still, breathless, until it stopped shifting.
“Better hurry,” I said. She nodded, eyes wide, and bolted. The tunnel grew lighter and lighter, then I was passing the baby to Denise so I could tumble out of the opening. We stood on the ramparts. For an instant I was dizzy as the air was cut through by dozens if not hundreds of dragons. I slumped against the wall and held my head, but only for a second.
“There!” Denise pointed to the foot of the wall where several small forms—some dragon, some human—raced across open ground to a hut. A dragon turned from his course and swooped.
I couldn't think. My heart stopped. All I could do was watch as the dragon loomed closer and closer. Three children made it to the hut, but the others were on a collision course with teeth and claws.
The wind changed, falling out from under the red dragon. He dropped downward, his face and claws digging into cobblestone. He rammed into a cart and let loose an angry shout, “Wind drake!”
The children made it to their hut. I thought I saw something small—something child-height but rounder—peer after them, but with the bat of an eye, the thing was gone.
“Did you do that?” asked Denise, then pointed to the next group before I could answer.
The next group was spotted, but I had enough sense to cast an illusion of a tree right in front of them. The dragon drew upward sharply, confused.
It was all I could do to keep myself sane. The movements in the wind attracted my attention any time I let it wander. I felt like I should be doing something, I felt that I knew how to put an end to this, but I had no clue what it was I could do. I wanted very, very much to
be up there in the wind. I knew where each dragon was going, what feints they were using, what their weaknesses were. But I was down here. On the ground. Watching. Waiting.
A dragon had been observing us for some time, the way a cat eyes a mouse before pouncing. I tried to urge Denise to go, but she refused to leave before everyone was safe. The dragon made her descent, and it was too late.
The dragon landed in front of us, the walkway crumbling under her weight as she leaned forward. Smoke billowed from her nostrils as she spoke. “Lost, little drake?”
Denise shook her fist at the dragon, yelling, “Just you wait till I can shift forms!”
The dragon blinked. She hadn't expected the girl to reply. She ignored Denise altogether. “Pay me respect where it is due. Show me the female that has taken the Lord's heart.”
I frowned. “If you are talking about Mordon, I don't know what you are referring to.”
“Don't insult me,” the dragon snapped. “I know what you are. The world knows what you are. Look in your reflection.”
“Look—” I started.
The dragon growled and slammed her foot down. “You look and see past your own tricks, there by your feet.”
Trees were burning at the base of the wall and I shifted the wind, coating us in a thick cloud of smoke. I grabbed Denise's hand and bolted under the dragon's belly. We almost collided with a back leg, then ducked around her tail and streaked for the tower.
“You might be able to hide from me, but you can't hide from yourself!” roared the dragon before she took flight again.
Denise and I pressed against the wall,. The baby was waking up from Nest's sleep spell. His face was pressed into red wrinkles. It came as no surprise when he wailed. I bounced him a little and held him close. Denise was no help, instead growing angry.
“Ohhh…that female!” Denise shook her fist at the door. “She gets worse as time goes on.”
“You know her?” I asked. I was under the impression that dragons and drakes did not introduce themselves to each other very often; she was a most confusing creature, though right now I needed to focus on the present and not wonder about her words.
“She was the one from another colony.”
Something hit our tower. A few stones wriggled, casting dried chunks of mortar about my feet. We made our way down the stairs.
The top of the tower caught fire. I nudged Denise to keep moving. We were almost to the point where a fall wouldn't kill us, but smoldering pieces of roof were falling. I worried about being hit by them.
I pulled us into a doorway—it was locked—and waited until bits of burning shingles fell by us, mist rising when fire met puddles of water on the steps. Panting, Denise looked up to me. Having nothing to say, I bounced the baby on my hip.
At last the shingles stopped falling. We continued, and I pressed our pace harder, until my calves and thighs seared with exertion and a fresh rain of shingles came down on us.
We ducked into a doorway and stood there, panting. The baby was contented now to make a fist and beat the air, his face bright red, though he had grown quiet except for the occasional scream.
“Good thing Nest gave us the one who doesn't like to talk,” Denise said.
“Don't you know his name?”
Denise stared blankly at me. “I like plants.”
“Ah,” I said, not much blaming her for not wanting to deal with the nursery.
“You haven't left Mordon alone,” she said, her voice soft as someone flew overhead.
“He hasn't left me alone.”
I rubbed my face with one cold hand. Rain was starting to fall down the shaft now instead of ashes.
Denise shivered in a draft. Calling my magic to me, I built an air cushion over the top of the tower. Rain bounced off it and the tower stopped losing heat.
“You might not be so bad,” Denise said at last.
“High praise.”
“You have no idea,” Denise muttered, but when I looked, she was smiling.
As we waited for Nest, first Denise then the baby drifted off to sleep. I picked up a piece of polished metal and looked at my reflection. It was the same as always, though more bright than last time, more feral. What had I been hoping to see? A glimpse of what I saw in all the people here? I shook my head and set it down.
A jiggling handle rattled through empty space, waking me from a light sleep. I lifted my head, rubbing my eyes. A door at the top shuddered under a blow. I checked on my sleeping companions. Creaking, the door gave way.
“Fera!” It was Mordon's voice, in little short of a panic. “Fer-a!”
“Here,” I called and waved my arm. Denise groaned and hid her eyes in my shoulder, the baby squeezed his eyes shut tight.
Mordon was down the steps and kneeling next to me in no time. His eyes shimmered with fire. His shoulder bled.
“Are you well?” Mordon asked, brushing my hair back from my forehead. His fingers touched a bruise. I winced.
“I'm fine,” I said, pushing myself upright. “But you look rough.”
“Young dragons. They wanted to cause mischief more than actual damage.” Mordon put his arms around Denise and picked her up. I stood, careful to not move the baby too much. My arms ached from holding him.
“Come,” Mordon said. “We should get these two back to what's left of the nursery. They'll restore that first.”
I trailed him, mostly not paying attention to where we were going, yet as we passed a mirror, the reflection made me pause.
A large gray eye, purple slit for a pupil, stared back at me. I blinked. It was gone. I dismissed it as fatigue or imagination, but the image lingered in my mind.
Denise wasted no time upon waking to retell every detail of our adventure. Like everyone else, except a few farmers who went to sleep in their barns, I slept on the floor of the mead hall.
Feral Magic: An Urban Fantasy Romance-Thriller Page 40
