The Mage War

by Ben S. Dobson

  Kadka could only snort her amusement. Would they have thought her fears sounded so impossible, if they’d heard them spoken aloud? “How can I forget my little dragons?” She released Iskar and approached Syllesk and Nevka. “These are still faces I love. Only bigger now.”

  The dragons only watched her come at first, still shy, but then Syllesk—always the bolder, if not the larger of the two—took a step forward to meet her, the weight of it sending vibrations through the stone underfoot. “We thought we might be too different.”

  And they had changed a great deal, beyond just in size. When Kadka had left, they’d still been speaking in two or three word phrases, barely able to string a sentence together. Now, apparently, they were speaking Audish fluently. Still young, still looking to her as an adult they loved, but at under a year they seemed as old already as any other child would at six or seven.

  But Kadka didn’t care that they weren’t the little dragonlings she’d left behind—only that she had missed seeing it happen. “Is good that you change,” she said gently, and reached up to stroke Syllesk’s snout. “Means you are alive, growing. Makes me proud to see you so big, hear you talk like this. Learn who you start to be now.”

  Kadka’s words apparently gave Nevka the confidence to come to her as well, footsteps shaking the ground even more than Syllesk’s had. The larger dragon’s blue eyes—nearly as big around as Kadka’s fist—were hopeful. “Are you home to stay?”

  Kadka reached up to stroke a neck as thick as the trunk of a Svernan pine. “If choice is mine, is long time before I leave again.” She didn’t mention that the choice might not be hers—that being a fugitive made it hard to promise anything. Instead, she just spread her arms and let her dragons nuzzle in with their snouts. And as they did, she felt a slight warmth in her chest, a hint of a tingle spreading over her skin. It was the same feeling she’d once had in the presence of Syllesia, their mother. The aura of a dragon, of sheer Astral presence. Slight now, but they still had growing to do.

  Iskar joined the embrace then, putting his arms around her waist from behind. She let herself enjoy it, let everything else fall away. She would tell them about their lost sibling soon enough, but she gave herself that moment. It had been too long.

  “Mom! Dad! Cestra!” Tinga’s voice stole Kadka’s attention back, and she looked over her shoulder, past Iskar.

  Tinga had only just entered the cavern with Carver and the others, escorted by Vladak. Kadka had been further ahead than she’d realized. And she hadn’t noticed Tinga’s family at all, waiting to one side in the considerable shadow of the dragons. Not like her to miss so much, but then, she’d been preoccupied. Tinga sprinted across the cavern just as Kadka had, and threw herself into the welcoming arms of the people waiting for her. Her parents and Cestra wrapped her up so thoroughly that Kadka couldn’t see her in the tangle.

  “My little girl!” Kirga Vreeg sobbed into Tinga’s shoulder. “We were so worried!”

  “We’re going to talk later about you sneaking off like that.” Bittik could barely keep up his gruff tone—he was clearly trying to hold back tears himself. “But spellfire, I’m glad to see you home safe.”

  Tinga pulled away from the embrace with a slight frown, then, though she still held Cestra’s hand in hers. “It’s not that simple, Dad. You have no idea how good it is too see you all again, but none of us are safe right now. That’s why we came back.”

  Cestra stepped in closer and grabbed Tinga’s upper arm tightly with her free hand; she didn’t look like she meant to let go any time soon. “What do you mean?”

  “Is this about the… the accusations against you?” Bittik asked. “Surely now that you’re back the Magebreakers can explain things to Lady Abena—”

  “Not possible,” Indree interrupted. She and Carver drew near, now, with Bastian and Vladak just behind—they’d kept a measured pace, leaving Kadka and Tinga time for their reunions. Kind of them, but now it was time to talk about more solemn things. Kadka reluctantly parted from Iskar and the dragons to turn and listen. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but any in-person contact with high ranking Senate officials is going to get us arrested—they’re all well-guarded, by people who will be looking for us. And there are divination wards around them too, to stop harmful sendings and the like, so magical contact is out. I used to have an exemption to send the Lady Protector, but she’ll have cut me off now, for appearances if nothing else. The fact is that wherever her sympathies lie personally, Lady Abena has to treat us like fugitives from justice for the sake of the peace talks. If we go to her, it has to be with hard proof of our innocence, or she’ll be forced to hand us over to Belgrier.”

  “And there’s more to the story than what any of you have heard,” Carver said. “The truth of what happened in Belgrier is… complicated.” With what Kadka considered impressive efficiency, for him, he outlined the details of Endo Stooke’s involvement, the siphon spell, and the trail they’d been chasing across the Continent for months. But he left a hole where he might have mentioned what Endo had done with the stolen dragon egg. When he came to that part, he only glanced at Kadka, and talked around it. He understood that it was hers to share.

  “So,” he finished, “you can see why we can’t just announce that we’re here. We’re the only ones who know what Endo’s up to. Getting ourselves thrown in a cell just makes us easy targets.”

  Silence, then, as those who hadn’t heard the story before absorbed it. They’d all seen the blockade, heard the talk of war, but this was different. To learn that it was all happening because of one madman’s ambitions, and that the worst was likely still to come—that was harder to face. Kadka knew this, because she’d already had to come to terms with it herself.

  Kirga Vreeg broke the silence first, released her daughter to wheel around on Carver. “How could you let this happen?” she demanded. “You got her into all of this! You promised you would look after her!”

  Carver looked down at his feet. Of course he wouldn’t stand up for himself; he still blamed himself for so much of what had happened. Wilnam Urnt’s death still hung heavy around his neck. Even though he’d done it to save thousands of lives. To save Kadka’s life. “I’m sorry, Kirga. I never—”

  But even as Kadka was opening her mouth to defend him, another voice cut her off. “It’s not his fault!” Tinga stepped in front of her mother, as if she meant to protect Carver from her. “Tane didn’t force me onto that airship, and he didn’t create Thorpe’s machine or force Endo to use it. They started this, and I got myself into it.”

  “And me!” Cestra said, moving to Tinga’s side and squeezing her shoulder. “You have to blame me too, if we’re spreading blame. I helped her get on the airship.”

  Tinga smiled at her girlfriend, but shook her head. “Blame is a waste of time. This is happening. Endo’s here, in Audland, with the siphon spell. Nothing can undo that. What we need to do is fix it. And I intend to help.”

  “Fix it?” Bittik gaped at his daughter, appalled. “Tinga, it isn’t…” He trailed off, realized what he’d been about to say.

  “Safe?” Kadka cocked an eyebrow, and flashed Tinga a proud grin. The girl’s spirit was too big for her little body; she’d said exactly what Kadka had wanted to. “Is like she says: no safe places now. Carver does not make this happen, but it does. And if Tinga is not with us, we do not escape Endo’s spell alive. What he does with Thorpe’s machine… is worst thing I ever feel, and more will feel it if we do nothing. No one else knows truth, so must be us.”

  Indree nodded. “People we can trust are in short supply, and Tinga has more than proven herself. Frankly, while I sympathize with your concern, we can’t spare her. We can’t spare anyone.”

  Bittik and Kirga looked at their daughter a long moment, and then Kirga swallowed, and inclined her head. “Astra, I don’t know whether to be proud or terrified. Just… just be careful, Tinga.”

  “I’ll try.” Tinga smiled gratefully at her mother.

&nb
sp; “I’ll keep her in line,” Cestra said, and tightened her grip on Tinga’s arm. “I’m not letting her out of my sight this time.”

  Kadka grinned. She liked those two together. “This is what we do. Look after each other. Is why we must stop Endo.”

  “The Silver Dawn will give whatever aid we can, of course,” Iskar said.

  “Us too!” Syllesk declared enthusiastically.

  Nevka nuzzled Kadka’s shoulder. “If anyone tries to hurt you, we’ll stop them.”

  Kadka couldn’t speak for a moment past the constriction in her throat. Had it really been only moments before that she’d worried they wouldn’t want to see her again? But she couldn’t hide the truth from them any longer. She owed them the whole story. It was time.

  “Is one more thing,” she said. “Egg Endo takes.”

  Iskar frowned. “You found it?” She could hear the apprehension in his voice. “It wasn’t… intact, I suspect?”

  Kadka shook her head. “No. But not just broken. Is worse than that.” She took a deep breath. “Is… hatched. Endo puts magic in it from machine, somehow. Makes it live, like he does with others in Belgrier. But under his control. And bigger even than Syllesk and Nevka. He… does something, makes it grow too fast.” She didn’t explain the stretched hide and flaking scales and weakened limbs bolstered by grafted ancryst machinery. That was more than Syllesk and Nevka needed to hear. “This is how he escapes us. Dragon carries him.” She hung her head. “I am sorry, Iskar. Is not what I promise you. Should have—”

  Iskar cut her off. “No, Kadka. This was not any failure of yours. It was likely too late even before you left Audland.” He flexed his fingers, and Kadka was suddenly very aware of the dagger-sharp talons he normally carried so gently. A flicker of silver light moved beneath the sapphire blue of his eyes, and she remembered the only time she’d ever seen him lose control of his anger. Of the dragonrage that lurked beneath his pacifism and discipline. “This was his doing. He has stolen my blood, my family. One of my mother’s final gifts. Her legacy will not be his weapon. I will not allow it.”

  “We can help!” Syllesk said, wings flaring slightly. “If he has a dragon, you need us!” Nevka rumbled in assent.

  “We do still need to keep a low profile, remember.” Carver was looking at the two dragons with some alarm, now. “It’s a good card to have up our sleeve, but maybe we don’t throw dragons at this just yet.”

  “We can keep a low profile!” Syllesk said.

  Nevka nodded. “We’ve been practicing.”

  In unison, the dragons narrowed their eyes in concentration. Before Kadka could begin to guess what was happening, a brilliant flash of silver light swallowed them both. She squinted against the sudden glare, could just barely make out that something was happening to Syllesk and Nevka behind it, their silhouettes shifting and shrinking rapidly. The others gasped in astonishment, but Kadka only watched, silent with fascination.

  When the silver faded, the dragons were gone, and so was that tingle of warmth their presence brought with it.

  Instead, two figures stood before her. A boy and a girl, children of perhaps seven—their age, roughly translated to orcish or human years. But they hadn’t chosen orcish or human forms, not exactly.

  Both had greyish skin, pointed ears, tufts of wild white fur atop their heads and on the backs of their hands. Sharp fang-like teeth, but hidden behind their upper lips, not protruding above. Neither human nor orc, but somewhere in the middle. Half-orcs.

  They’d made themselves look like Kadka.

  “Oh, my little ones.” Kadka knelt before them, tears in her eyes. She’d spent much of her youth wanting to be one thing or the other; she couldn’t have imagined a day when a child would want to be like her. “Beautiful. Both of you.”

  Iskar had told her once that dragons, when they assumed the form of another race, would choose the gender—if any—that they felt best suited themselves. Kadka noted with some interest that Nevka had chosen to be a stout, solemn-faced half-orc boy, and Syllesk a slight girl with mischievous eyes. Not what she’d expected, necessarily, but it was for them to tell her who they were, not the other way around.

  Syllesk lifted her chin, preening—she looked as if she wanted to stretch her neck out, but had forgotten it was much shorter in this form. “Uncle Vladak helped us.” She smiled up at the big orc. “We… we wanted to get the shapes right, and we didn’t know if we remembered…” She trailed off, but Kadka understood and it made her heart ache: they hadn’t been sure if they remembered her well enough.

  Vladak laughed, and reached out to ruffle the shaggy white hair Syllesk had created atop her head. “You two desherve mosht of the credit.” His lisp was common among full-blooded orcs born in Audland ; unlike Svernan, Audish wasn’t made to be spoken past the heavy tusks jutting up from his lower lip. He glanced at Kadka with a modest shrug. “I might have given a few finer detailsh on orcish bodiesh, but they remembered you jusht fine themshelvesh.”

  “Indeed,” Iskar confirmed. “They didn’t need much help. I seem to remember they spent more time wrestling with him than practicing.”

  “It’s so we can go above with you without drawing any attention,” Syllesk explained. She sounded very different now, the deep rumble of a dragon swapped for the high-pitched excitement of a little girl. “We’ll look like we belong together. Then if this Endo brings his dragon—”

  “Not his,” Nevka corrected gently, a sad understanding beneath his childish voice. “Ours.”

  Syllesk nodded. “Right. If he tries to use our sibling, we’ll be there to help!” In her excitement, she flexed her shoulders, the way she might flare her wings—and suddenly there were wings there, too large for her slight body. Overbalanced, she fell backward, landing hard on her rear. “Ow!” The others had been watching in silence, confused or awestruck by what they were seeing, but now Kadka heard Tinga let out an amused giggle.

  And then, in a flash of silver light, Syllesk was a dragon again, huge and silver, filling the space she’d left empty moments before. Startled into losing his concentration, Nevka reverted in another flash a half-second after.

  Before anyone else could say anything, Syllesk spoke up, obviously embarrassed. “So it’s not perfect yet, but we can—”

  Iskar held up a hand. “Enough. This is not the time to repeat this debate.”

  Nevka arched his neck into an indignant curve, suddenly towering to near the roof of the cavern—it was hard to believe he had been the size of a child just moments before. Syllesk raised her voice once more in objection. “But—”

  Iskar cut in again with a sharp shake of his head. “We have talked about the dangers of revealing your existence, and you clearly have not yet mastered shifting forms. I know that you wish to help, and as Inspector Lovial says, if the need becomes dire enough we may be left with little choice. But I will not put you in danger while it can be avoided. This family has lost enough already.”

  Syllesk puffed up her silver-scaled chest as if she wanted to protest, but all she said was, “Yes, Iskar.” Beside her, Nevka relaxed and lowered his head, clearly cowed. Kadka shot Iskar an impressed glance. To instill that kind of discipline in two dragons several dozen times his size was no mean feat. More confirmation that she’d chosen well—and not just because he was so pretty. She was proud of Syllesk and Nevka for trying, and she wouldn’t have taken no for an answer any easier when she was that age, but it was dangerous, and they were only children.

  “Good,” Iskar said. “Now, to the heart of the matter. If Endo is to be stopped, how might it be done?”

  And as they always did when that question came up, all eyes went to Carver. Kadka didn’t envy him the burden, but she also couldn’t think of a better person for the job. He was an idiot sometimes, and without her watching his back he’d be long dead, but when he needed to he could also be the cleverest man she’d ever met.

  “Right.” Carver sighed and rubbed absently at the watch case in his pocket. “Well, first,
we need to know more about this siphon spell. I’ve got the scrolls we took, and a few ideas about where to start. Bastian, if I give you the diagrams, can you and your friends put together something like Thorpe’s machine? We’re going to need it fast.”

  “Of course!” Bastian bobbed his head eagerly. “I will put every resource towards it. We will have it ready before the sun falls tomorrow!”

  “Good,” Carver said. “We might want to look into what the usual suspects are up to as well.” He turned to Iskar. “Any notable activity from the pro-magical types? Beyond the usual shouting at your rallies, I mean.”

  Iskar shook his head. “The opposite, if anything. They have been curiously quiet of late.”

  “That might be more concerning,” said Indree. “Holing up to plan something, maybe. I’ll help Iskar’s people poke around there—I still have contacts I can point them toward.”

  “I was about to ask,” Carver said with a nod. “There’s just one more thing, then.” He took a deep breath. “We’re going to have to get a message to Endo’s mother. I need to talk to her.”

  “No.” Indree said immediately. “Weren’t you listening? Nobody connected to the Senate. Umbla Stooke is the family’s senior senator—that’s pretty connected, I think.”

  “I know,” said Carver, “but it’s the best lead I can think of. We know Endo visited some of their family contacts in Rhien, but not enough about who or why. She might be able to tell us more about what he was doing. And she owes me for saving her life. If it’s me, she might not go straight to the bluecaps. She’ll be less protected than the Lady Protector—we can have one of Iskar’s people slip her a message, I think. She might even talk to Lady Abena for us.”

  Indree was still shaking her head. “I don’t like it. She’s not going to let you bring backup. You’ll be exposed and alone, and she’ll have guards. If she decides she needs to capture you…”

  But Kadka had learned to trust Carver’s hunches, and they weren’t going to get anywhere now without risk. “Not alone. I will go. Can hide, watch, help if guards come.”