Wyvern Awakening (Mage Chronicles #1)

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

  This is how it is and I should be used to it by now.

  “Oh, and remember, Astri, the next loan instalment is due tonight. I hope you have the right amount this time,” he reminds me, just before I’m about to disappear on the stairway leading back to my basement.

  “Yes, it’s all there. Don’t worry, Uncle,” I mutter, wishing I could be someone else, at least for a day, but that’s impossible. Astri, one of the last of Wyvern shifters, has to work in order to repay a debt to her human family. As my uncle says: school, hospital bills and food don’t come cheap.

  “Don’t worry, Astri, I just farted in his face, and with my spell, he’ll be smelling it for the rest of the day,” Lenin giggles when I’m back in the basement. He must have flown over when he heard I bumped into my uncle in the corridor. I smile to myself, no longer feeling depressed, because I know Lenin’s always going to have my back.

  Chapter 2

  That one chance

  I leave the house just after eight in the morning with two Welsh Pixies by my side. The population of Rivenna’s divided into humans and shifters. There are also mages in the city, along with other magical beings who occupy more sophisticated parts of Rivenna. The mages are like shifters, but with superior genes and much more developed skills. Most of the time, they’re born to old shifter clans with a long standing history and tradition. They can also shift into dragon creatures, but their magic is remarkably powerful and deadly. Ordinary shifters don’t mix with them; it’s been this way since the Great War.

  In some parts of Rivenna, humans and shifters prefer to use old school forms of transportation, such as horse drawn carriages and coaches while others cherish modern forms of technology.

  Around my neighbourhood, everyone has super, high-speed cars, big mansions decorated to the highest standards and perfectly manicured lawns. No one from around here would even dream of showing up in a horse drawn carriage on my street. All the neighbours like spying on each other during the day, and if there’s a scandal, the whole street quickly explodes with gossip. Apparently, it happened when my aunt and uncle brought me home from the hospital. Humans just don’t like anything out of the ordinary, and they’re not huge fans of shifters either, but after one hundred years, they’re forced to co-exist with them.

  Mrs. Darlington from number eight and Mrs. Dima, her neighbour, are glaring at me from the other side of the street. I’m shocked seeing them up and about this early in the morning, considering neither of them work. I cringe inwardly as I nod politely and pick up the pace, knowing they’re probably going to talk about me by the time I reach the end of the street.

  To everyone in this part of the city, I’m just a deformed girl who doesn’t speak to anyone and stays out all day—a freak. No one knows I’m a shifter. Rivenna is ruled by Duke Jorgen III, the mage shifter from the Lindworm clan of dragons. They're considered almost royalty. He appoints the high governor who manages and polices the city. Shifters and humans have to co-exist. Over one hundred years ago, shifters and other magical beings in the Eastern World started revealing themselves to humans, causing havoc in other cities. Many men went to the streets and began killing anyone who looked or sounded different. Apparently, it was a total massacre. It took humans almost thirty years to accept them—to learn as long as they stay out of shifter business, peace will remain.

  Humans have their own lives and shifters, along with mage shifters have theirs as well. We have our own infrastructure, our own laws and rules. Humans don’t understand magic and they’re happy to remain ignorant in that respect.

  Jorgen’s father, Duke Hans, successfully initiated a dialog between shifters and humans. He understood the issues that both sides were facing and he tried to repair them. My parents liked and respected him. Now that his son rules, neither party is interested in talking again. I guess Jorgen isn’t very experienced—he creates laws that don’t seem to benefit anyone other than himself. I never used to be interested as the laws created didn't really effect me but now I'm not so sure. I don't really have any friends either shifter or human, so shifter laws don't seem to impact me.

  I leave the house just after eight in the morning with two Welsh Pixies by my side, walking through the quiet part of the city, thinking about my nightmare and Jorgen. Since I turned thirteen, I’ve been trying to find out what happened the day my parents died. My memory was in shreds, and I could only recall certain bits before the mage tried to kill me. Everything else was blank. Most of the time, I could never remember happy dreams about my parents, but I had dreams about something that might happen in the future or what had already happened in the past. It was as if previous memories about my happy life before the mage’s targeted attack didn’t exist.

  The shop where I work is located in the Conton area, populated mostly by shifters and a few witches. The Pixies are bickering with each other about whose turn it is to make magical brownies this week. They follow me everywhere and my boss Emilia likes them. She’s a fifty-something witch who’s been divorced three times. Unfortunately, her latest husband passed away a year ago.

  It takes me over half an hour to get to work. A few dragon shifters acknowledge me on the way with shy smiles. Because I work for Emilia, I know a lot of shifters in the city, but none ever try to make an effort with me. The problem is no one wants to be friends with a scarred, disfigured girl or at least that’s how it seems.

  Today’s the day I have to hand over a few hundred rakish notes (the currency used in most of the Eastern World) to my uncle. After the attack, I was brought to a local hospital. Doctors saved my life and operated on my face. It cost a lot of money and someone had to pay the bill. Apparently, my aunt and uncle were responsible for me, so they foot the bill of the surgery. Over the years, I’ve tried to pay them back. I’ve been working since I was fifteen, and I’m quite aware of how much money I’ve been paying my uncle every month. It’s a significant amount, but he keeps saying it’s nowhere near enough.

  A couple of years ago, I tried to find out exactly how much my surgery cost them, but the department I spoke to fobbed me off, saying it was confidential information and I needed to talk to my uncle. It sounded absurd, especially considering I was the patient, but no one was willing to explain anything to me. The only concrete information I received as far as why I was being refused, was the fact I was a minor at the time of service. I’m an adult now and should have complete access to my personal medical records. Honestly, I believe my uncle pulled some strings to have the records sealed, but I can’t prove it.

  Whoever found me in the chamber brought me straight to a human hospital, otherwise shifter doctors would’ve tried to heal me with magic. Every now and again I try to ask my uncle about the amount I owe him, but every single time he gets mad and tells me it’s more than I’ll ever make in my lifetime. There’s no way I’m going to stay with them forever, but it’s difficult to save money when every month I have to hand most of my wages over to my uncle. Last month I was short, and had to work a few extra nights in the shop to cover for it.

  A few weeks ago, a traveller from another part of the Eastern World sold me a rare dragon’s venom—that’s where most of my savings went. It was the final missing ingredient I needed in order to remove this hideous scar from my cheek and neck. Tonight, I’m testing the potion on myself for the first time.

  “Have you noticed that guy in the white pants? He stared at your scar when you were crossing the road. Do you want me to go and punch him or fart in his face?” Lenin asks as I walk into Poison Ivy General Store. Jetli nods enthusiastically, trying to use her hands to tell me she’s willing to go after the guy on the street too. My Pixie friends hate when I feel insecure about my scar. I’ve always noticed when other people and mages stare at me, but I’ve learned to live with it. The scar is very noticeable, and that’s why most people avoid me. They don’t understand that inside I’m just a girl only trying to fit in; to be like them.

  Emilia keeps telling me I shouldn’t worry about my mark because I’m b
eautiful anyway. I have short, platinum blond hair, a pale complexion with striking, charcoal grey eyes. In some respect, I want to admit to myself that I’m pretty, but every time I try, I’m reminded my disability is real. I have high cheekbones and a long forehead—everything that defines the Wyvern’s line. All the women in the Wyvern’s clan were blond and slim, but over the years I learnt there were never many of us. We were rare.

  “No, Lenin, just chill out. People stare, so get used to it. I’m trying a new spell tonight. Hopefully, my scar will become a distant memory,” I say, feeling positive about the dragon’s venom potion.

  “Oh, Astri. I can’t believe you’re here already. I told you that you didn’t have to come in early. I can handle opening my own shop, you know,” Emilia says, startling me as she’s rising unexpectedly from under the ladder.

  “You know I can’t hang around my house for long. If my aunt hears me, she’ll come down and start giving me absurd cleaning tasks to do, barking orders at me and treating me like another maid. Honestly, I don’t know why any of them stick around after the way she berates them. I’d rather be working. Besides, today is loan day,” I say, looking around, knowing Emilia hates hearing about loan day. She doesn’t think I should be giving my hard-earned cash to my uncle.

  The smell of lavender, freshly cut grass and rainforest wafts through the space when we move toward the back. Emilia brews a lot of love potions, and it looks like this one is her new, improved recipe.

  She’s the city matchmaker, and her success rate with hooking people up is phenomenal. In the past few years, she must have matched at least twenty or more couples within the city. She’s one of the nicest and most honest people I’ve ever met. She’s slightly overweight, always wears millions of necklaces, large, colourful dress-tunic type clothes and way too much makeup. Her hair is rainbow-coloured, and most of the time she treats me as an adopted daughter. She has her own style and isn’t afraid to own it.

  “Oh dear, loan day. Come on. You’ve been paying off that endless debt for six years now. That human’s a greedy man and he’s exploiting you. Maybe you should finally stand up for yourself and demand a copy of the hospital bill, just so you know how much you have to pay back. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already paid it back in full,” Emilia suggests, pressing her lips into a hard line. She hates the way my aunt and uncle have been treating me over the years. I nod, knowing she’s right. This has been going on for far too long.

  “Yes, I’ll talk to him about it tonight,” I say.

  Emilia gives me a look, but luckily she doesn’t press on the subject.

  “Did you know a very handsome dragon shifter just moved to city? He’s your age and—”

  “Emilia, please. I don’t have time or patience to even think about boys and I have to go. Mr. Riddle needs aloe powder and your stocks are almost empty,” I cut her off, feeling tense whenever she suggests a boy who might be suitable for me. I’m at the age where I’m expected to be married or at least be interested in the opposite sex, but the truth is, I’ve never been on a date. Every boy notices the scar first before he notices me. Sad maybe, but it’s my reality.

  “Yeah, yeah. It’s the same every time. When are you going to start believing in yourself? No one cares about your scar, Astri,” she says, sounding irritated. “You’re kind, generous and caring. Men will easily swoon over you. Just give them a chance. A chance to know the real Astri, not the scar you believe holds you back from having a normal life. You’re beautiful; if only you could see what I see.”

  Our conversation is interrupted by a bell, telling us we have a customer. Emilia looks annoyed, turns around and we both get back to the main part of the shop. It’s Kate, one of Emilia’s devoted customers and friends. She’s flustered and it looks like she’s been running all the way here.

  “For Hommis, Emilia!” she shouts, holding her chest. “Kiran proposed last night. I can’t believe it. I’m getting married this year.” She screams and shows Emilia a big, fat diamond ring. I’m annoyed I have to witness it again. Kate is the third client who’s gotten engaged this week, and I’m still nowhere near going on my first date. Great, that just makes me feel even more insecure.

  “That’s fantastic, I knew you two would hit it …”

  I stop listening to them when I hear someone drop something in the back again. The Pixies aren’t around, and that usually means trouble. I should’ve never taken my eyes off them. As I suspect, I find them in the storage room where Emilia works and brews most of her potions. Lenin and Jetli are on the table and they look drunk, stumbling away and laughing at each other.

  “Astri, let’s party. Put some music on and dance. Look how Jetli’s flying again,” Lenin says and I sigh, aware they must have drank some of Emilia’s love potion. Unfortunately, the liquid doesn’t work the same way on Pixies as it does on humans or shifters.

  “I can’t leave you alone for one second. Let me find something in the back. You two need to sober up right away. This isn’t even funny anymore,” I say, fuming as if my head’s going to explode any minute. The Pixies are like small, naughty children; they have to try everything for themselves and most of the time they don’t listen.

  “Chill out, Astri. Emilia’s potion is good shit and I feel great. Let’s rock!” Lenin shouts and then Jetli stumbles away and falls down.

  Kate is still talking. She’s going over what happened last night. It looks like this might take a while.

  “I have no time to rock, Lenin. Stay here and don’t bloody drink anymore. I’ll be right back,” I say, moving the brewing potions out of the way. I tell Jetli to keep an eye on Lenin, then use the back door to head outside. Emilia has a shed where she stocks most of her magical potions and I know there’s one that can cure the Pixie’s alcohol poisoning.

  I push the door open with my foot, thinking about my later task. A trip to the Black Forest is unavoidable—the aloe powder grows in one of the most dangerous areas, but I know I’m a great hunter and it shouldn’t be an issue. No bother, that’s my job and she pays me well. The outbuilding is dark, and the window’s open. The back wall faces the main road.

  I start from the left shelf, looking through flasks and other boxes when I hear someone talking on the street where the shed looks out.

  “I had a meeting with the duke this morning and unfortunately he’s planning to go ahead with that silly contest. The city crier will announce it officially on the square later on,” Governor Pollock says. I glance out the window and see him standing on the street. He’s talking to Shaun, one of the butcher’s sons.

  Pollock is talking about the duke, the shifter who's responsible for my scar and parents’ death.

  A few nights ago, one of my nightmares flashed back to a time when my aunt fired both of her maids. Apparently, she caught them stealing and since she couldn’t find anyone else to clean, she forced me to take on most of their duties until she found a replacement. I remembered the dream in the morning as soon as I woke up. Maybe it was insignificant, but it was just one of many dreams that felt like a message or warning. Ever since I moved in with them my dreams always reflected reality of future or past events. I could recall even the smallest details from those dreams, like what the weather was outside or what colour shirt my uncle wore on a certain day. However, when it came to remembering something about my parents it’s as if someone or something wiped their memories from my subconscious. For the life of me, I can’t figure out how or why.

  “The contest for his assistant. Wow, I mean it sounds great and the award is pretty spectacular. Maybe I’ll try my luck,” Shaun says, sounding excited. I roll my eyes. Shaun might be a dragon shifter, but he’s always been extremely clumsy.

  “I don’t think this kind of competition is for you, my friend. All assigned tasks will be dangerous and potentially deadly. Jorgen will only select a few. There are rules and regulations, but whoever wins will be with the duke both day and night,” Pollock continues, sounding bitter. Suddenly, it feels as if the ground
opens up beneath my feet when a new idea pops into my head.

  Whatever the contest is, it’s my chance to sneak into the castle, get close to the duke, and exact my revenge for what he’s done to me and my family.

  “How many shifters will be participating, sir?” Shaun asks.

  “A few strong fire fighters who aren’t afraid to partake in various magical and strength challenges. The whole city will be watching, meaning certain standards need to remain high, but in my opinion it’s a waste of time.”

  Their voices sound quieter and I assume they’re walking away. I remain standing alone in the darkness; my heart’s racing against my chest and my mind’s thinking of future possibilities. This is it–the contest; it’s my one and only opportunity to get close to the duke.

  It’s been eleven years and he’s gotten away with murder for too long–shining like a beacon under his father’s rule as the “Protector of Rivenna”, yet no one truly knows the real monster lurking just beneath the surface. My cheek begins to burn and I run my hand over the rough skin, wondering if I should try my luck. Living amongst humans and shifters has taught me a lot. I’m the best hunter in the city, and I know how to fight. Jared, Emilia’s dead husband, taught me everything I know.

  “But you’re a woman and the duke won’t accept you as his assistant,” my own voice reminds me.

  Whatever. My gender might not mean a thing. I need to find out more about this contest and the prize.

  I grab what I need after a few minutes of intense searching, finding the ingredient that’ll remove any excess love potion from Lenin and Jetli’s bodies.

  “Hey, guys, I hope you’re all right for—”

  I don’t finish, because I see them both snoring on the table and automatically change my mind. Those two will be all right in a few hours, maybe less. Their metabolism digests everything with enormous speed.