Feral Magic

by Nicolette Jinks

  I caught a terrarium on its route off the edge of a shelf and put it on the floor, frowning, while Mordon said, “Your last visit was not so pleasant, Thessen, what brings you here?”

  Before the dragon could open his mouth again, I interjected. “Thessen, can you talk softly again? I would appreciate not having to reorganize all this.” I turned on Mordon and gave him a glare, “And you, quit the attitude.”

  Mordon’s jaw dropped, not at my scolding him, but at my behavior towards Thessen.

  “You do your brother, Leazar, justice,” Thessen said, affectionately rubbing his nose across my back. I stumbled a couple of steps before I regained my balance. Thessen continued, “Your ward is courageous and cunning, Lord of Kragdomen.”

  Mordon’s jaw slackened even more and his eyes bulged. He cleared his throat, “Thank you.”

  “Childhe is most wise to accept his offer,” said Thessen, his voice just a hint of rumble, “And the Lord of Kragdomen would be just as wise to watch over her closely during these troubling times ahead.”

  Mordon’s brow furrowed and he said, “What has happened?”

  “Trickery.” The shop rattled at the word, and Thessen corrected himself, speaking softer, “Misfortune has befallen the dragons and they blame the drakes. Likewise, the drakes blame the dragons for a series of accidents. I have convinced the dragons to meet in peace with Drake Elders, but the Drake Elders will not agree unless their home is secure.”

  Mordon looked like he had heard this before, rubbing his forehead. He said, “You’ve come to ask me to guard the colony so my father will attend the discussions.”

  “I have.”

  Mordon frowned and paced anxiously. He stopped and said, “I would, but my responsibilities here...”

  I had a hunch he was speaking more about me than he was about the other three.“I’ll come with you,” I said, “Lilly and the others can make do for a few days.”

  Mordon stared at me, then shook his head.

  “You must go, Drake Lord,” said Thessen, “Childhe can watch over the colony’s hatchlings in relative safety.”

  Mordon rubbed his forehead again, then sighed and said, “I will consider it, but I must speak with the others before I commit to anything.”

  “Very well,” said Thessen, “I shall take my leave. Drake Lord of Kragdomen, Childhe Ferline Swift, my blessings be about you both.”

  Thessen gave me one last nuzzle, then turned with surprising grace he scraped his belly back through the cavernous opening. His tail disappeared in the darkness then the cave retreated, leaving behind the original door. When I looked at the rest of the shop, I found it had restored itself to its prior condition as well.

  “Why did he call me Childhe?” I asked.

  Mordon blinked, raised an eyebrow, then he said, “Ah, yes. It means he likes you.”

  His face fell back into darkness and he stroked his nonexistent beard. I stared at his habit, wondering what was with the way he would stroke his chin, furrow his brow, and look at his empty hand. Did he cut off a beard lately? I’d never even seen him with stubble...

  “Your dragon form has a beard,” I snapped my fingers in triumph. I was surprised I hadn’t put the two together before. He seemed to enjoy the beard, and I wondered if he could not grow one in his human form. I had never seen him with a 5 o’clock shadow.

  One eyebrow went up and the other down when he twitched his mouth in an unspoken question. He looked down to his empty hand, and revelation crossed his face. “Ah, yes.”

  “Mordon,” I said and waited until he looked up to me, “We’re going as soon as we can talk to the others, so stop worrying. Besides, I need the opportunity to practice magic out in the open air.”

  The front door swung open, rammed the wall, and rattled back on its hinges. Leif ran to the door leading upstairs without looking at us and treated that door with the same courtesy as he had the first door. My eyes narrowed and I snared Lilly before she could repeat Leif’s actions.

  Part of me wondered how they had gotten up and out of the house without coming through the wainscoting door, but I decided that their suites must be littered with portals.

  “What is going on?” I demanded, surprisingly irate by their rough treatment of the shop.

  “Oh!” Lilly’s eyes opened and she smiled sheepishly, “We got called to mediate between the griffons and sphinxes”

  “Mediate?” I asked, “I thought you were judges.”

  “Emergency protocol. All the mediators are called out, and we left instructions that if any party in Merlyn’s has an issue for us to sort out, they are to report to the dungeons and remain there until our return.”

  “All the mediators are called out?” Mordon asked.

  She blinked and said, “Yes. Why? What’s happened?”

  I explained about Thessen’s visit and she frowned.

  “Think all this chaos is coincidence?” she asked Mordon.

  “No,” huffed Barnes, who had slipped in without my noticing. “I’d bet someone planned this while we were busy with the festivities, hoping by the time we sorcerers were back on our feet it would be too late. Which is why we all have to go do damage control before it really gets out of hand.”

  “Is Fera going with us or Mordon?” Leif called from his position at the base of the stairs sorting out three packs.

  “With me,” said Mordon.

  “Good,” said Leif, passing the packs to Barnes and a frowning Lilly. He turned to look at me, “The carriage should be here about now. The sphinx Anhur swore to guard us, whether Mordon came with us or not.”

  “Anhur is worth his word,” Mordon said. “He was the one who sought your help, was he not?”

  Barnes twitched his mustache in annoyance and nodded. I had a feeling he did not much care for Anhur—possibly the sphinx was too chatty.

  “You can go with Mordon, Constable,” said Lilly kindly, confirming my suspicions about how little Barnes liked Anhur.

  “I won’t abandon my ward,” gruffed Barnes, though he did look tempted by her offer.

  A loud rap came from a door upstairs.

  “We will burn a letter when we are finished,” said Leif.

  Lilly gave me a hug. They bolted upstairs at a second, this time demanding, banging on the door. I listened to their footsteps fall away, knowing that with each second, we were using time that we very much needed. The finding spell would have to wait—it was even possible that we would not need it now that the trail had picked up again.

  Mordon snapped his fingers and the lights dimmed, even the ceiling became shaded. A series of grinds and clicks ran through the shop as it locked all the doors. I put my hand on a beam and reached out to the shop. It gave a long, slow groan that sounded reminiscent of a yawn.

  “Bye, shop,” I said, following Mordon upstairs, “We’ll be back soon.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I wasn’t sure how we would get to wherever the drake colony was. Mordon rushed up the star, into the living room and to his door. He opened it. I hesitated, but he beckoned me inside.

  I blinked in the shadows until Mordon clapped his hands and candles on a chandelier flickered to life. The lights played on curved shelves lining the circular walls, but to my surprise they weren’t filled entirely with books—puppets in various stages of production sat grinning down at me, wooden heads held up by strings attached to the shelf above them. Round gnomes clustered together, one of them looking suspiciously like Trish from the Black Kettle Cafe. A tiny kettle was in her lap. There was also a dragon I distinctly identified as Thessen. I didn’t recognize the other gnomes, nor did I know any of the various elves, griffons, unicorns, or random creatures. I saw an aged sorcerer in a blue pointy hat with a long white beard sitting close to a knight, seemingly in conversation while a beautiful witch in black leered at them.

  “Is that supposed to be Merlin, Arthur, and Morgana?” I asked.

  Mordon checked where I was looking.

  “Yes?” he said, doubting
his creative abilities.

  I laughed and poked at Arthur’s visor. “I think they’re adorable.”

  Arthur stood, his strings suddenly gone slack as he brandished his sword at me, declaring in a small voice, “Unhand me, Giant! Excalibur will smite you!”

  I tried to not laugh as Mordon groaned, “You woke him up.”

  Arthur turned on Mordon now, sticking his sword into the wood of the shelf and leaning on it as he said, “Ah, tis you, Benevolent Giant. What quest have we on this fine day? Where are your hatchlings?”

  I cocked my head at Mordon.

  He put his head in his hand.

  “Arthur,” I said, “No quests yet. I was merely curious and woke you up.”

  Arthur pulled his visor back and leaned to look at me better, a small smile on his wooden face, “What a peculiar way you say my name! But it matters not. You are pardoned, Fair Giant Lady!”

  He dropped his visor back over his eyes and became still again, heaving on his strings. On the shelf below Arthur, scraps of fabric were organized by color and I smiled to see the orange velvet, red and white stripes, and shooting star fabric that Janise had given Mordon with my clothes.

  Try as he might to avoid my gaze, I noted that Mordon’s cheeks had turned to a lovely shade of scarlet. He coughed and motioned we should go up the spiral staircase, leading the way so all I had to see was his stiff back. Apparently, this was where he kept the good books. They spiraled up the stone side of the stairs, the other side a stone railing allowed an unparallelled view of Mordon’s living area. Much as I was tempted to read through the titles, I had a better thought in mind.

  “So...” I started, “your hatchlings?”

  Mordon coughed. “Not mine, exactly. I’m the colony’s historian, and it’s my duty to teach our stories to new colony members.”

  “Ah,” I said, fondly remembering the puppet show. “Like back at Merlyn’s Market?”

  I belatedly realized that he was the one pupetteering the show at the market.

  We passed some doors along the way, then the stairs lead out onto a walkway on top of castle walls. I walked to the side and leaned over the wall, staring out to the valley below. A large creek cut through green fields where white sheep, colored goats, and a variety of cattle grazed around the occasional thatched-roof cottage nestled under trees.

  “Who lives out there?” I asked.

  “Those who are a bit more independent,” he said and added, “You might want to be a little careful who you talk to. It’s been some time since a human was here, and there are still some hard feelings lingering from the days when humans were on an anti-dragon spree.”

  “Should I claim to be fey?” I asked.

  “You don’t look much like one.”

  I giggled, “That’s half of the deception.”

  Mordon placed my giggle now. “I thought you laughed too shrilly and too viciously.”

  I giggled harder.

  “Stop, stop,” he said, “You’re going to give me nightmares.”

  Stopping wasn’t easy, especially when I had somewhat forced it to begin with. When this became obvious, Mordon grabbed me about my waist and hoisted me onto the wall’s edge. I shrieked and seized his shirt between my fingers. He laughed and set me back down. I watched as people came out of their houses to herd the livestock into barns.

  “It looks like they’re expecting another attack soon,” Mordon said, frowning.

  It didn’t appear like anything had been attacked lately, much less by dragons, which I mentioned to Mordon. He said they had people who would set things back to order, often without so much as a blade of grass out of place. It made the dragons frustrated to see how easily their handiwork was undone.

  We entered a larger tower and descended to a mead hall where several men and women sat around a rectangular table engulfed in loud conversation. They spoke in gravelly accents so thick I had to mentally replay their words before they made sense, piecing it together by their hand gestures and expression.

  At the head of the table was a beefy man with a muscled jaw and broad shoulders. He had the same hair and eyes as Mordon. The man bolted up, knocking his chair over backwards. “Mordon!”

  All heads turned to face us; some studied me, some frowned at Mordon, some smiled broadly. Mordon’s face was taut and he had a strained smile.

  “I am pleased to see you home, boy!” thundered his father, striding to embrace Mordon. Mordon hugged him back timidly. His father turned to face me, “And whose chicklet did you bring with you?”

  “She’s my ward,” said Mordon defensively.

  “Names, names, as my son is not forthcoming. I am Aeron, Mordon’s father. That woman with the black hair and delightful scowl is my wife, Enaid.” Aeron made a round of introductions, but I couldn’t remember who the people were except for his grandmother Agnes “Nest”, a spunky and tiny lady who took to me the instant she laid eyes on me.

  Unannounced, a swarm of children rushed past my knees and I ducked as a pony-sized dragon almost careened into my face. Mordon caught the child and it morphed into a laughing boy.

  “Inside form, children!” scolded Nest, her hair pointing straight up from her head.

  “Mordon’s here!” They cheered, as though they expected everyone to be eager to see him.

  “Can we have another story?” one begged, then the sentiment was echoed through the ranks of the children. “Yes! Yes! Please, Mordon?...please?”

  “Only,” said Mordon, leaning down, “if you go straight back to your nanny and listen well to her.”

  He received a round of knee-hugs and then a bedraggled woman came to collect the children. The child Mordon had caught gaped at me and tugged on Mordon’s sleeve.

  “Who’s she?” he asked, pointing at me.

  “My name is Feraline.” I said.

  “That’s a strange name.”

  I chuckled. It most certainly was a strange name. “You can call me Fera.”

  “Come now,” said the nanny and ushered the children away. Mordon watched them leave with a smile. The joy left with the children. Aeron and Enaid became grim, sitting down heavily in their chairs.

  “You’re here to get us to go talk,” said Aeron.

  “At Thessen’s request.” said Mordon.

  “And you brought with you a woman who needs guarding,” Enaid shook her head and frowned.

  “What makes you say that?” I said, more intrigued by what brought her to the conclusion than offended by the implications.

  “I am the colony’s skill seeker,” Enaid said, “it does not take much talent to see that you inherited fey magic, even if you appear strong.”

  “Then you know foremost of my skills is to deceive,” I said, then shook myself from petty squabbling, “Does the status of my magic alter your decision to attend the peace discussions?”

  “No,” said Aeron.

  “Yes,” said Enaid, giving her husband a fiery slanted-eyes glare. She continued, “If we gain one guardian and one dependent, then we haven’t gained a thing.”

  Mordon and Aeron began to argue with her and soon the entire table was divided in the debate. I frowned and rolled my eyes, noticing that Nest alone watched me, her keen eyes seeming as though to say something. Words drew my attention back to the table.

  “—what when you decide to marry her, our shifting will be a recessive in the offspring!” snapped his mother.

  Alarmed at where this conversation was going, I reached out to the railing on the staircase and asked the castle to amplify my voice.

  “Enough,” my voice boomed, seeming to come from all the walls. The people at the table jolted and stared at me. I let the castle go from my will, but it kept my voice loud, fading as I spoke. The castle was reluctant to let my voice drop again, as though it was happy to have someone to work with it.

  “What happens or does not happen is between Mordon and me, and I will not tolerate speculation.” I locked eyes with Enaid’s green and yellow ones, “I rely on Mordon for
teaching and support, not as a bodyguard. I am capable and willing to be a last line of defense or paired with a fighter with more magic.”

  As I suspected, the idea of pairing me with anyone else was dismissed with no debate. Enaid still did not think me capable of any sort of defense and insisted I be put straightaway with the hatchlings.

  “Mother,” scolded Mordon, “she has faced with plenty of danger before—”