Seconds later, Maren emerged from the candlelit hallway, dashing past the surprised general. Fjalldís followed straight away. “Magnus!” Maren said, sounding rather worried. “Magnus, are you all right? We saw you fainted; we wanted to find you sooner but it took us a while to find a way...” As soon as she crouched next to his bed, Elmar and Lars came panting into sight as well.
Magnus felt his heart lift. His friends had found him!
“Magnus, please tell us you were acting like a villain only to win the game,” said Fjalldís' voice, right behind Maren.
Still hardly daring to breathe, Magnus mouthed wordlessly at Maren; but before he could say anything, a stern male voice had answered this question for him.
“He doesn't have to act like a villain, because he is a villain. And you kids have no business here, so get out, at once!” Xanthar commanded in roaring tone. But, as it seemed, he had forgotten these novices were not guards, soldiers, nor his policemen. They were all shaking in terror with eyes popped open, but none of them moved a limb.
“They are allowed to stay,” said a familiar voice, its owner dressed in a rich ornate mage robe emerging from the dim lights of the hallway. “These children were rather worried about their friend's health. I couldn't disappoint them. I just didn't have the heart to tell them no,” Zimbadur said calmly, his lip curling. He slowly looked up to see Xanthar's disgusted face.
“Zimbadur,” the general fizzled through his teeth glumly, as though he didn't even want to greet the Master of the Ragnan Mages Guild.
“Xanthar, nice to see you down here,” said Zimbadur defiantly.
Suddenly, there was complete silence in the room. That did not worry Xanthar, he liked piece and quiet; but along with others, the man on his right stopped doing his work, too. “Keep counting,” said Xanthar curtly, shooting Zimbadur hateful looks.
If Xanthar's commands did not work on the kids, they surely worked elsewhere. “478... 479... 480...” The man continued counting in a bored voice, gold coins clacking on the glittering piles periodically.
The colour drained from Xanthar's face as Magnus watched him from the bed.
“So... are you going to... die?” Said Lars in a faint voice, as though he was afraid of speaking these words out loud.
Magnus' attention was brought back to his friends. “What? No, of course not!” He said, sounding dazed. “I'll be fine, I just need to rest, that's all...” Everyone hoped these words would convince Lars that he hadn't need to worry; clearly, he was already thinking about which tunic to wear on Magnus' funeral – the dark gray one, or the black one?
As Lars had wiped the first tears off his face with the back of his hand, Magnus and Maren exchanged rather stunned looks.
“Listen, we saw Reinhart -” Fjalldís started abruptly, but she didn't find the courage to finish the sentence. “Maren, you say it...” She said silently, as her eyes darted downwards.
“Well, we didn't exactly find him in his best health,” Maren continued, looking very concerned. “But he said something... He said your eyes weren't human... And I think I know what he meant; we have already seen you with strange eyes, back there in the swamp. After you breathed fire.” She whispered carefully. She threw a furtive glance at Zimbadur and Xanthar, but it seemed they were quite busy arguing about a serious matter.
Magnus looked seriously alarmed now. “Do you think he knows...? Do you think he'll tell...?” He asked in shaking voice.
“Knows what?” Said Elmar curiously.
“Tell whom?” Said Lars, right after Elmar.
Fjalldís heaved a small sigh...
… and Maren took a deep breath. There was no point in hiding things from these two; they had already seen the tail...
“Magnus is a dragon,” she said quietly. She thought she saw Lars' disheveled hair stand up even more.
“A DRAGON?!” Said Elmar and Lars together, a bit too loudly, as it seemed. It even made Zimbadur and Xanthar stop arguing and look wordlessly in their direction.
The five novices stopped breathing for a while. They all felt as though a single sniff could bring doom upon them.
Xanthar rolled his eyes, turning his face back to Zimbadur. “Dragons... is this what the little guild of yours has taught them over the past few months? Maybe you should finally replace that crazy loony Aedan with someone who wouldn't teach them such nonsense,” he said sharply.
“Oh really? Well, maybe you should first check under your own rooftop, before pointing at others; your policemen hasn't seemed to be doing much of a good work lately.” Said Zimbadur scornfully. None of the present had to be a genius to understand they had quarrels between them that reached back for years.
Maren's eyes kept hopping from Zimbadur to Xanthar. Although they were both mature men, they looked merely like boys of her age right now, ready to start a scuffle at any moment. The attention was turned away from Magnus, but only for a short while.
“Five hundred.” The man on Xanthar's right side muttered. “Here's your five hundred gold coins, Sir Zaleon.” He said dully, closing the filled bags by tying a tight knot with a thick rope. “And... here's your one hundred, Magnus...” He pushed the smallest bag towards Magnus' bed, giving him a sympathetic look. If he could, he would have given him all six hundred; he clearly didn't want Xanthar to keep a single coin of this enormous treasure.
“Thank you,” said Magnus in a sad voice. He knew the biggest part of the gold would go to the police; but now that it came to it, he did not feel like parting with it.
Xanthar shot Zimbadur one last disgruntled look. “Excuse me, I have better things to do than wasting my time with useless mages,” he said in a superior voice.
Zimbadur frowned angrily, but he decided not to continue this pointless arguing. It obviously didn't lead anywhere. He kept glancing from Magnus to Xanthar, comparing their ability to share.
“Here, I want all of you to take twenty five coins.” Magnus said, still sounding rather disappointed. Now that he couldn't have the whole treasure, he wanted his friends to have some of it.
There was a moment of silence and eyes bulging out of their sockets. Twenty five... Gold coins? None of them had ever had so much money in their pouches! In fact, their pouches were too small to carry all of that gold. This would mean they were all rich! But... should they even accept such a generous gift from Magnus?
“I knew you would hesitate... But I want you to have it, really.” Magnus said, his face lightening up a bit. “You deserve it. If I didn't have you, I'd probably go insane from the amnesia, strange things happening all around me and the police chasing after me.” He shot a furtive glance at Xanthar, who was now taking the bags of gold away with three of his policemen; two men and a woman. “It's the least I can do for you.”
Hearing these words, Fjalldís let go of all her suspicions. No longer she believed what she heard in the arena and what the general said just moments ago; if Magnus didn't consider them his friends, he wouldn't share all this money with them. And it wasn't only money. It was his hard-fought prize for winning the Magiker tournament.
“What's this?” Said Xanthar in a curious voice, gazing at an antique looking belt that was barely seen from the small bag resting by Magnus' bed. It was made of silver and three lines of shimmering ice-blue gemstones, holding silver chains and charms in the shape of clouds, feathers and stars hanging on them. It seemed no gold coin or gemstone could escape Xanthar's investigative sight. It was as though he had detectors in them.
Seeing this, the man who had counted the gold coins had to interfere. “Oh, I am terribly sorry Sir, but I can not let you take that. It is an ancient artifact, the Belt of Air magick, given to the winner of the tournament as a trophy.” He said in the tone of acted sorrow, but in fact he was enjoying every word he had let out.
But his words did not seem to bother Xanthar. He cast a sinister stare at Magnus. “No matter, I'll take it from him when I arrest him.” He said calmly, as though it was already decided.
His conf
idence sent a chill down Magnus' spine. For a moment, he remained in his thoughts, then he carefully pulled the beautiful belt out from the bag. As soon as he touched it with his fingers, he could feel its enormous power. Surely he would not like something like this to end up in Xanthar's hands.
He turned to Maren, who was watching the belt in such awe that her eyes were popped and her mouth hanging open. He did not even notice when, she sat on the bed beside him. “Maren, this is for you. Happy birthday.” Magnus said in a calm voice, a kind smile on his generous face.
It took a while until Maren blinked her eyes. “But... but how did you know?” She stammered, then her face brightened as she realized that Magnus could read her thoughts. “You can't give me this... It's your Magiker trophy! It's like a memory... you can't give it away!” She opposed, but her eyes revealed that she really wanted the powerful magickal artifact.
“I am not giving it away... I am giving it to you.” Insisted Magnus, then he leaned closer to her and whispered something into her ear, while casting a seemingly furtive glance at Xanthar.
The general looked stunned by the insolent look that Magnus gave him. “Let's go,” he said grumpily, his policemen grabbing the bags of gold at once. They shuffled out of the room and kept staring at Magnus hatefully until they disappeared back in the dim hallway. Zimbadur was watching them leaving and wondered if Ragna would ever see a gold coin of that money.
Maren gave Magnus a sudden hug. He did not see her face, but he knew that she was crying; her muffled voice and constant sniffing were a proof of that. “This is my best eleventh birthday in my life,” she said with difficulty and sniffed again, clutching the wondrous artifact in her right hand, as though she never wanted to let go of it. She knew this would boost her Mage career immensely.
“Maren, it's your only eleventh birthday in your life,” reminded her Magnus.
“Oh,” Maren sniffed and chuckled. “You're right.”
“What? It's your birthday?” Said Fjalldís, Lars and Elmar together, looking dazed. “Well, we didn't know-” Fjalldís said, but Lars interrupted her.
“Oh no, we don't have any presents for you!” he said and instantly let out a few tears roll down his face.
“You are better than any presents I could get, silly!” Maren said and with tears of joy still sliding her face, she reached for her four friends and embraced them all together, while they embraced her back. By then, Lars had already broke into terrible cry. It seemed that whether this evening had a good ending or not, he was going to cry anyway.
Zimbadur let out a slight cough. “Ehm... I think you are feeling better now, so perhaps you would not mind to join us at the Magiker party, the other players will unfortunately not be able to go,” he said with a bitter smile, then turned and left the room.
If Zimbadur did not let his presence known to them, Magnus and his friends would have already forgotten he was still there. It seemed like Maren's interest in Zimbadur had been completely shifted to Magnus; a great help for that was the moment they met him before the tournament and when she found out that he did not remember her at all. While Magnus, on the contrary, would never forget her.
“Well, let's get the party started,” said Magnus brightly, leaping to his feet and taking their bag of gold off the floor with a very little effort. He felt as though he was reborn, full of energy, strength and ready to face any troubles that his new-found dragon origin could had bring them.
Fjalldís helped Maren to fix the magickal belt around her waist and they both agreed it looked very beautiful on her. In the meantime, Magnus and Elmar had divided the gold coins into five piles and all five of them stuffed one of these piles into their pouches, hoping they would not tear carrying such a heavy load of coins. When they were leaving the room of clerics behind, Magnus heard some muttering behind him. “I knew there were flying reptiles,” Said Elmar in a mystic voice, gently slamming his right fist into his left palm, as though a big theory of his had been proven right.
It was not hard to find the Magiker party. There were still a few people to ask in the hallways, talking quietly in groups, seemingly wishing to have some more privacy than in the room where the party was taking place. When they arrived to the huge, gaping chamber just one level above the arena, they found out that the party had already started. Seeing all those people having fun, drinking, tasting the great variety of cookies, laughing merrily and dancing, made all five of them beam with joy. The tables were groaning under huge plates of fruits, vegetables, roasted meat and sweets of all kinds. Fjalldís' eyes popped open when she saw her favourite cocoa cake among them and Lars looked so happy as though he had never cried in his whole life. Among all things, what soothed Magnus the most was the fact that Xanthar and his fellow policemen had already departed. This party was for him to enjoy.
Just when they were about to go and grab a few plates of the irresistible looking cakes and sweets, five boys in black emerged from the crowd, walking their strut right towards Magnus and his friends. This time, it was five to six. Although, Magnus counted for more than ten.
“They won't give us a break, will they?” Said Maren in a tone of annoyance mingled with fear.
Magnus could not help scowling, but he was not afraid of them anymore. “Don't worry, they can't try anything here... Besides, I am with you. I won't let them lay a finger on you.” Said Magnus in a highly protective tone. He stepped forward to shield his friends with his own body, as though he was a lion protecting his pack.
The Black Squad with Darius in the lead stopped right before them. Darius tilted his head to the right so that he could see all the frightened faces hidden behind Magnus.
“Nice pack of cowards you got there, Magnus,” he said mockingly.
Magnus returned him a piercing stare. “At least they don't pretend to be what they are not,” he said grimly, now breathing harder as he was getting angry.
The black squad exchanged a few offended looks, as though they could not believe that someone doubted their courage and strength. Darius cast a spiteful look at Magnus. “Do you think you're a hero now? That everyone adores you and loves you?” He said fiercely in a slightly envious tone. If he moved his fist just a little closer, he would had jabbed into Magnus' chest. “Well guess what... You will never have that.” He said hatefully. Darius never looked more serious before. He gave Magnus one last sinister gaze and as he was leaving with his gang muttering something they could not hear clearly, he shot Fjalldís a piercing glance and together with Victor bumped into Elmar and Lars with their shoulders. “Let's go out for a dragon hunt. These idiots are no match for us,” said Darius to his friends, but he made sure to be audible enough for Magnus to hear it.
“Oh yeah? I don't think the guards will let you go outside at this hour,” bellowed Magnus, ready to bolt after them if he had heard another inappropriate comment addressed to him and his friends.
Fjalldís gently grabbed his arm. “Let them go,” she breathed with her voice still shaking. “He's just jealous.”
Magnus remained in thoughts for a while, trying to calm himself down, then he turned to Lars and Elmar. “Are you okay?” He said, sounding quite concerned.
“Yeah... yeah I suppose we're okay,” said Elmar, although it seemed as though he was not even sure of what he was saying.
Maren noticed that there were tears rolling down Lars' face again. “Oh dear...” The words she uttered made the rest of them turn to her, and then in the direction where she was gazing. And in the next moment, Lars let out a painful, long squeal.
Magnus covered his ears instantly; loud sounds were not of his favourites.
With sudden rush of understanding, Maren took Lars by his hand. “Come on, let's take some biscuits.” She said in a cheerful tone and gave him a roguish wink. Hearing those two talking about biscuits, Elmar followed them straight away.
“I'd like strawberries on my biscuits,” said Lars quietly, wiping his face on his sleeve and holding Maren with his other hand, as though she was his mum.
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Just as Fjalldís wanted to step forward to follow them, Magnus stopped her. “Fjalldís, wait... I think there's something you should know.” He said in a highly concerned tone.
Fjalldís rounded at him with worry in her eyes. “What's the matter? What should I know?” She asked swiftly.
“I caught up a few of their thoughts... and you're not going to like it. I think they have something against you. You should be careful...” Said Magnus and his eyes darted downwards. He remained silent for a while.
“There's more, isn't there?” Fjalldís said, raising her eyebrows as she tilted her head to see into Magnus' face turned down.
“I put you all in danger,” said Magnus in an anguished tone, casting a guilty gaze at Fjalldís. “I made Elmar do something stupid... I wanted to prove that I am a druid to Aedan, so... I... never mind,” Magnus muttered and turned away.
Fjalldís felt rather confused. “Well, will you finish what you started?” She said, her voice full of shocked curiosity.
“Look, I... I'm sorry I started talking about that... and I'm sorry I've done it in the first place... I can't believe I did that, it was so selfish...” Said Magnus, sounding utterly downcast. He tried to avoid any eye contact with her; his guilt was too strong.
“But what did you do?” Fjalldís said, losing her patience.
“I told Elmar to give Darius a letter that would make him act that he was a druid... in exchange for an evening of studying together. It was when Lars caught a sight of my... tail...” Said Magnus, lowering his voice to a whisper.
“What??” Fjalldís breathed in a shocked voice. “You're not serious now, are you?” She kept staring at Magnus and shaking her head as though she could not believe what she had just heard.
“You won't believe me, but... now it's me who feels like crying... and I am dead serious about that.” Magnus said, still looking down at the tips of his shoes. Shortly after that, Fjalldís saw a heavy tear splatter on the floor. She let out a compassionate sigh. Magnus received a second hug that night; it was from Fjalldís.
Drakonika (Book 1) Page 36
