How to Bond a Mage (Heir of Dragons Book 3)

by J. A. Culican

  Minx still had her reservations, but couldn't well argue against the First. “A-Are you sure?” she muttered. “Can we... can we really trust them? Torrent has an amulet, a powerful magical object which he's used to subject them in the past. How do we know that they won't fall under its sway again and attack us from within our own formations?”

  “I can't promise that won't happen,” said Valry with an arched brow. “But, so far, he hasn't called us back with the thing. I have a feeling that his powers are spread thin right now—he can't keep controlling everyone with the amulet while fighting these constant battles and concentrating on the shields around your lands. Something has to give, and he's risking a larger mutiny even as we speak. So, I wouldn't worry about that. We only came out this way because we wanted to help.”

  The First nodded firmly. “If you will fight, enter our ranks—fall into formation. We will have you stationed behind the dragons.” He motioned to the legion behind them. “We are marching for Torrent's encampment and expect to meet him in battle soon. I hope you are all prepared; once we have reached our destination, there will be no path left to us but to fight to the bitter end.”

  “That suits me just fine,” replied Valry with a wink. She waved her tods over and led them to the larger group, where they assumed their assigned positions with solemnity.

  When the First resumed his march, the Wuffs joined in, keeping up the pace.

  Kaleb, conscious of Minx's reservations but ultimately pleased at this turn of events, nudged her with his elbow as they walked. “I know what you're thinking, but this is for the best,” began the dragon shifter with a smile. “In order to make this happen, the whole continent will have to unite against Torrent. We don't have to forget all that's happened during the course of the war... but we have to be willing to set aside our hard feelings for the greater good.”

  A violent storm of emotion coursed through her. Easy for you to say, she thought bitterly. I wish I could just let it go, but what happened between Valry and me is personal. She gripped her bow tightly, till her palm grew sore, and stared down at the ground as they advanced. She knew that Kaleb and the First were correct; that they were in need of every capable soldier they could get their hands on. Still, fighting on the same side as the Wuff who'd killed her mother left her with a bad taste in her mouth—and no little angst.

  What's going on up there? asked Mau from the rear. Were those Wuffs? What happened to them? Are they... are they actually marching with us?

  Minx sighed. Valry and her men have decided to come along. They've had it with Torrent and want to help us... but there's no telling if Torrent will be able to control them with his amulet. Do me a favor, Mau... keep an eye on her and the others. If they try anything funny... if they seem suspect to you at all, let me know immediately. And don't hesitate to take them out if they start acting sketchy.

  I'll keep an eye on them, promised the Faelyr. It's good that they're willing to help, I guess. Better late than never.

  That's what everyone else says, scoffed Minx. I wish they'd just keep walking and leave this battle to us. I never want to see her—or any other Wuff—again.

  Far from sharing her reservations, Kaleb appeared rather excited at having found more help for the battle ahead. “This is it, Minx. We're really going to do it. The whole of Aleio is turning against him; powerful though he is, Torrent won't be able to stand up to this army of ours—to the two of us, united.”

  Putting aside her misgivings about the Wuffs, she could not have asked for a better companion in this final struggle than Kaleb, and reflecting on Winterlimb's instructions made her heart skip a beat. These new weapons are wonderful, but without the love we share, no weapon will be enough. We'll march against Torrent today and the power of our love will conquer him—or else the two of us will die in battle together. Ruminating too much on this latter possibility seemed a touch morbid, and yet even in that potentiality there was something of the romantic. She had staked all of her happiness on this last fight, but even if the two of them lost, she would still get precisely what she wanted—that is, to spend the remainder of her life with Kaleb. Whether they enjoyed merely the next few hours together or several decades didn't matter, so long as that remaining time was spent at his side. Meditating on his closeness, on their bond, helped to settle her nerves somewhat and to shelve her doubts about Valry.

  The First, too, seemed thrilled at having picked up extra soldiers. Even though the Wuffs had been responsible for the deaths of countless Fae, their willingness to forge an alliance at this vital juncture represented for him a golden opportunity to topple the indefatigable villain that awaited them at the end of this furious march. Minx had spent a good deal of time with him over the course of the past few days, and had seen him transition from a nervous leader, doubting their odds, to a confident and energetic general.

  They crossed miles of punished land, encountering only scattered clusters of Torrent's men. These cells of enemy combatants uniformly fled whenever the Fae entered into view; no band of Plurn or Krah wanderers dared challenge the larger force for fear of a rout. Maybe some of them are abandoning Torrent too, thought Minx. If Torrent can't keep them in line with his amulet, we may not face so much resistance after all.

  They had been marching at a breakneck pace for some time when the First suddenly cut his speed and studied the horizon from beneath hooded lids. “We're close now. Just beyond this hill,” he said with a thrust of his chin to the east. The remnants of the Trading Center walls were now in view, a sure sign that they had nearly arrived at the hunter's prescribed coordinates.

  Minx took a deep breath and prepared for battle.

  This fight would require more of her than any previous; she would either give her all and win, or she'd have to leave it—along with her corpse—on the battlefield. Tense, she glanced at Kaleb. “We've made it...”

  The dragon shifter nodded pensively, gathering himself and raising his glittering sword.

  It was time, now, for them to see just how strong that sword was.

  No, that wasn't all.

  It was time to see just how powerful their love was. Could their love for one another bring an end to this war and save all of Aleio?

  There was nothing she could do but to trust in him and draw an arrow from her quiver.

  Chapter 28

  The march continued at full-tilt.

  Any moment now, Torrent's watchmen would catch sight of the large force skirting the knobby hill still some yards off, and would alert him. A clash was imminent.

  Minx was the veteran of more battles than she could count, and yet her legs were woozy at the prospect of this one. It was like she was going off to war for the first time; nervous and unconfident. During the great battles she and the rest had fought to defend the Trading Center and other areas, she had felt similar pangs of dread, though despite her feelings she and the others had found success in those campaigns. It wasn't that she doubted her fellows, her leadership, or her love of Kaleb—this time, her terror sprang from the realization that they were backing the single most powerful force she'd ever run against into a corner.

  Even if they managed to win this battle, Minx knew precisely how difficult it was going to be. Any victory would be hard-won; every man would be pushed past his limits and many were sure to perish in the struggle. Her mind was flooded with frightful visions of the Dark Mage's power—she remembered the way he'd thrown both her and Kaleb around like rag dolls, the way he had repeatedly deflected her arrows as though they'd been buzzing flies, and how he'd even taken to the sky and bested Kaleb in an aerial fight. Possessing such incredible magical powers, along with the raw strength and abilities of a dragon, made him a force to be reckoned with.

  The First led the army past the hill, and it was understood before he even gave the signal that those with weapons ought to draw them and prepare to fight. Archers throughout the legion nocked their arrows; swords were unsheathed and a number of spears and lances were lowered in anticipation of w
ild charges. The dragons strode on silently, preparing to shift. Their battle-plans had already been drawn; an aerial attack, destroying the camp and its resources, was the most advantageous way forward.

  Kaleb, though, would stay behind. As the wielder of the glimmering sword, he would stay out of the fray until the last moment—and would focus his energies, like Minx, on toppling Torrent himself.

  The First brought the army to a halt, holding up one fist. Already, those on the outskirts of Torrent's camp had surely heard them approaching, had felt their progress across the otherwise still and silent lands. “Dragons, as discussed, if you would please take to the air and attack the camp from above, it would be greatly appreciated. Send the camp guards into a panic, rob them of their goods and, if possible, part them from their weapons. When a few moments have passed, I will lead the entire force in a charge of the camp, where I hope to capitalize on their confusion. Am I understood?”

  The dragons, fronted by Gidiam, nodded. “We'll turn the camp into a caldera,” promised Kaleb's father, striding to the front of the pack and socking his son playfully in the arm.

  For an instant, Minx felt trapped in time—frozen. The wind ceased blowing and the chirping of the far-off birds and insects died out. A pall of unnatural silence fell upon the land and she felt as though she could live forever in the pre-battle tension.

  Unexpectedly, a soft voice, distant and muffled, penetrated her thoughts. Your love will bridge the gap. Trust in him, and let him trust in you. There is nothing you cannot do together.

  It was Heilo Lake.

  She startled at the sound of that voice, so much weaker and quieter than it had ever sounded before. Minx hadn't expected to hear from the lake ever again considering its current state, and stood aghast at its seeming feebleness. The lake had used what little energy it still had to loose a final gasp of encouragement.

  She wanted to converse with the lake, to offer some encouragement of her own.

  There wasn't enough time, however.

  The field was filled with dragons.

  Gidiam and the others transformed, shedding their human forms and spreading out across the land. A mighty wind blew, and each of them captured it in the folds of their tremendous wings, rising into the air without a sound.

  The final war effort had been set in motion, and nothing could be done to halt it now.

  Minx stood in the shadows of the monolithic dragons as they passed overhead, savoring the final silence before the fighting began. She stood with the rest, listening for signs of the siege. The dragons would lay waste to the camp in a fury of fireballs and molten spray; the attacks from above would be felt for miles around and would permanently transform the land.

  The signs they were all waiting for arrived right on cue.

  Cries arose from the camp beyond the hill, only to be drowned out seconds later by an earth-rending impact. The sounds of simmering tents and grasses, of hurried flight, began to ring out between the jarring crashes. Waves of blinding light washed over the fields, singing the grass and making Minx's eyes water for their incredible brightness.

  All were encouraged by these sounds; the dragons had launched their attack, and were not, it seemed, facing any meaningful opposition. Even so, the First held up a closed fist, urging those under his command to remain in place. The time for them to rush the camp had not yet arrived; waiting till the chaos had reached its zenith would bear much better results.

  And so, with bated breath, they waited.

  As they did so, a smoldering knot of fire struck the nearby hillside, rupturing it and sending a cloud of boiling soil surging across the land. Minx and the others sought cover, ducking and shielding themselves from the unexpected explosion. One of the dragons, they figured, had been careless and had struck the hill in their furious strafing of the camp.

  When the Fae stood upright and surveyed the ruined hill however, they saw the damage for what it really was—an attack from a most unwelcome presence.

  Two of the dragons sent to attack the encampment had been forced back into their human forms, and had been struck by the terrible fire blast. That blast, a whole order of magnitude stronger than any that Gidiam and the others had unleashed, had come from Torrent's own hand. He hovered in the air like a specter, his black wings scarcely moving as they caught the wind. He'd taken out two dragons with a single wave of his hand, and the others, still flying over the smoldering camp, had ceased their attack. They seemed to be weighing the possibility of engaging with Torrent, or perhaps even considering a full retreat.

  The First, shuddering, knocked the soil from his armor and watched as a large battalion of marching Plurn, Wuffs and Krah began marching toward them from the remains of the camp. The dragons had disrupted things, but they hadn't been thorough enough in their aerial assault to destroy the forces stationed there. Those warriors—seemingly as well-trained and battle-hardened as the hunter had claimed—were on the move now, ready to engage with the Fae. Torrent and his men had come out swinging; though the Fae had possessed the element of surprise, their initial attack had not achieved the crippling effect they'd hoped for.

  With little else to do in the face of this threat, the First cleared his throat, pointed the tip of his longsword at the incoming force, and threw his men into a frenzy, ordering them to strike. “Charge! To the last man!” he cried—and to his credit, he led the effort himself, racing across the field toward the Wuffs stationed at the fore. The other men, cowed though they were at Torrent's overwhelming presence, were inspired by this display and joined in the initial rush, taking up their arms and loosing cries of their own.

  The air was pierced by the cacophonous crossing of swords and the thwacking of arrows.

  Minx and Kaleb didn't join the others, instead focusing on the Dark Mage who still floated some yards away. Torrent had not noticed the two of them in particular, and was watching the battle unfold between his men and the Fae. He seemed to be considering an intervention in the fray, but the remaining dragons had begun circling around and proved a pressing distraction. He drew away from the hill he'd shattered and prepared to engage the dragon shifters—though not before Minx raced across the smoldering hilltop and fired an arrow at him.

  Kaleb had tried to stop her, grabbing her arm as she'd sprinted past him. “Minx! No, not yet—”

  She hadn't listened, queuing up one of her new arrows and hurtling it at him with a strong pull of the bow string. The shot had whistled past him, missing by a few degrees, and at noticing the pair behind him, Torrent had only smirked.

  She cursed herself for having missed, and she watched as the precious arrow vanished into the distance. How could I have missed? Meeting the Dark Mage's smug gaze, she felt sick to her stomach. It was clear in the way that Torrent looked at them that he didn't consider them a threat; he looked at the two of them as he did at the battle raging nearby—with an air of superiority. He thinks we're weaklings—that he has nothing to worry about. Instinct told her to take another shot, but before she could reach for an arrow, Torrent had set off to take on the dragons. Rising high into the sky, he met the circling shifters amidst the clouds.

  “Minx,” said Kaleb, taking hold of her arm. “Come on.” He motioned to the throngs of warring soldiers at the edge of the camp. “We'll have time to challenge Torrent soon, but right now they need us!” He lifted his sword and started toward the struggle. The enemy forces had partially encircled the Fae; with practiced skill, the dark warriors mounted a powerful offensive from the edges of the smoldering encampment, pressing in on the unskilled conscripts and threatening to overwhelm them.

  Minx knew Kaleb was right, but still couldn't forgive herself for having wasted one of the special arrows. “I could have struck a serious blow back there,” she muttered, fishing a normal arrow from her quiver and following close behind the dragon shifter. “What was I thinking? It wasn't even a hard shot to make!”

  Kaleb struck out toward a line of Krah axe-wielders on the left flank of the fray. The lizard-men
swung their hefty weapons with such force that they became embedded in the thin shields of the Fae; repeated blows served to shatter them completely. If Kaleb and Minx didn't intervene, the untrained Fae warriors would soon be defenseless. Forcing his way through the throng, the dragon shifter reared back and delivered a punishing cleave, his blade shearing the wooden handles of two such axes effortlessly. The surrounding Krah—and those struggling nearby—all took notice and immediately disengaged from the cowering Fae, falling back.

  The Fae huntress dove into the fight herself, slinging a pair of normal arrows over the heads of her beleaguered countrymen and downing two of the lizard-men in an instant. Emboldened by this, the Fae, only moments ago terrified, rose up against their scaly attackers and began forcing them further out of formation. The leftward flank opened up as the Fae asserted themselves, and the Krah proved timid in the face of their newfound vigor.

  Deeper in the sea of warring bodies, Mau could be seen to leap over enemy lines and to pummel snarling Plurn lancers with her meaty paws. One Plurn, extending his lance in a jab, missed the Faelyr by mere inches and was terrified when Mau delicately sprang across the length of the handle to seize his upper arm with her fangs. The lancer dropped at once, rolling and kicking at the Faelyr, but was unable to free himself from her tight jaws.

  From the rear, Valry and her Wuffs pushed deeper into the wall of dark warriors, pelting them with arrows. The vixen herself raked the air with her sword, chopping at the Plurn that had only moments ago threatened to trample them. By all appearances, they were having no trouble resisting the power of Torrent's amulet; they were fighting his men ruthlessly, and without the least hesitation.