I still really, really wanted him to teach me magic, though.
Hansen glanced up at my arrival. He stood over a mortar and pestle, grinding a basilisk tail into dust. “Molly. Where is Ernst?”
“It’s Melie, still, and Ernst is cleaning up a jar he knocked over. Here is your foxglove,” I said, just as Ernst ran up, huffing and humming some tune under his breath. There were several red welts on his face, and I grinned at him while he glared back in response. I’d been the one to gather those bees in the first place, so it was only just that they’d provided some measure of usefulness now.
Hansen took the foxglove without looking at me. “I see you’ve also brought me my mermaid tears? Yes, yes, hand it over,” he said, cutting me off when I opened my mouth to tell him about my day.
I gave the sorcerer the mermaid tears but decided to keep the scales for myself as a memento. I had to have something for my troubles.
Hansen went back to muttering over his potion, and after a few seconds looked over at me as though surprised to see that I was still there.
“Oh, you are dismissed now.”
“Oh,” I said, my face heating at the abrupt dismissal. “I thought I might watch.”
“Absolutely not. Observation is only for apprentices who have undergone elementary spellcasting and demonstrated some talent.”
“But you told me I couldn’t take elementary spellcasting until I was potion adept,” I said, sinking once more into the trap of frustration. For an entire season I’d been trying to get some sort of training, any training, and every time I got even a little close I was given yet another reason why I wasn’t ready. But I came to the high court precisely because I was ready. I’d reached the limits of the teachings of the local witch back home, and the sorcerer of the north had told me that with all of my power I needed a stronger teacher.
But now here I was, being turned away once more.
“You heard the master,” Ernst said in a singsong. He wouldn’t be able to talk without singing for some time, but even that small spite didn’t bring me any measure of joy now. I deserved to be taught and to learn without constantly being turned away.
“Thank you for the ingredients, Malia,” Hansen said, still not looking at me. And that final insult was enough to drive me from the room and down into the kitchens to scrounge up dinner and maybe a sweet to assuage the bereft feeling in my heart.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
I woke the next morning to screams. At first I thought I was having a nightmare or that maybe there was a banshee in the castle complex, but when I opened my eyes I realized they were sobs of despair, and they were very near.
I didn’t stay in the sorcerer’s tower like most of the apprentices. Instead, Hansen had secured lodgings for me in the servants’ quarters. In hindsight I should’ve known right then that I was never going to get anything more in the way of training than a lot of time in the library, studying and translating.
Poor Malia, Molly, Meredith, too weak and useless to even bother training.
But Melie, she was going to stop wasting her time. I’d decided last night that I’d look into going abroad to study. Klydonia was not the only land with a High Sorcerer, and perhaps I’d find someone more amenable to teaching me someplace else.
But for now, I had to see what sort of disaster was afoot in the palace.
I got up and dressed quickly and went out to find the source of the disturbance.
A trio of maids sobbed in the hallway. They each wore a different-colored dress to denote the part of the government complex where they worked, but their skin was all the same reddish brown usually found in people of the north. Their hair was in the single high braid of northern ladies as well, and their tears gave me momentary pause. Northerners were rumored to be reserved in their emotions, but apparently these girls hadn’t gotten the memo. “What’s the matter?”
“Oh, Melie, it’s just terrible! The Minister of War’s son has been cursed! The most handsome boy in all of the castle, and he’s been turned to stone!” said one of the maids.
“The sorcerer said he’s helpless to undo the spell without the heart of a dragon, and now everyone has taken to the mountains to find one!” said another.
“And everyone knows that bothering a dragon is the fastest way to die!” wailed the third, which set the trio off on another bout of tears.
“There, there,” I said, quite awkwardly, patting one, then another, then the other of the maids. “I’m sure someone very brave will find the dragon’s heart and save the, uh, minister’s son.” I tried to sound concerned, but the truth was that these petty nobles were always getting themselves cursed in some way or another. Especially those fellas in the war department. It was a side effect of kicking over stones in places one didn’t belong.
Either way, the wannabe heroes in the castle could go adventuring for a dragon’s heart. I was going to spend the day studying in the giant complex library. Hansen might not want to teach me anything, but there were still books. I would just teach myself.
But less than a turn of the hourglass later, as I sat in the library translating a book on dragon lore, since it seemed apropos, I realized that everyone was looking for the wrong thing.
Hansen had sent the castle’s best warriors out to find a dragon’s heart. But the translation said enchantments could be broken by a dragon’s heat, which I took to mean its heated breath.
And I began to suspect that perhaps that terrible sorcerer had something else in mind. Because there was no way anyone with a basic understanding of magic theory would get a dragon’s heart and a dragon’s heat confused. There were plots afoot, but even though I didn’t know what they were, I had a responsibility to see if I could discover how to stop them.
Because whatever woe befell Klydonia would impact my small village as well. “Crap,” I muttered, closing the book.
I was going to have to find a dragon.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Three turns of the hourglass found me riding in the back of a hay wagon through the foothills outside the castle, across farmland, and up into the aptly named Dragon Kill Mountains. Not because it was where dragons killed people, but because it was the spot where the last great king, who hadn’t been all that great in reality, had slain one of the last dragons before being slain himself. His death had prompted the people to cry “Enough!” and overthrow the crown, and declare a treaty with the mountain dragons, not just because the king had been stupid, selfish, and lazy, all very terrible traits to have in a leader, but because dragons were an endangered species and people were aghast to see a king spend his time hunting and killing such a majestic beast.
And yet, no one had seemed to remember that as they stormed out of the castle, up into the mountains, intent on returning with a heart. Fools.
On the way out I’d overheard a new piece of information. The Minister of War had offered some prize to the person who returned with a dragon’s heart: gold, a daughter’s hand in marriage, a firm handshake and whatnot, but I didn’t really care about that. I was determined that not only would I find the dragon, but I would be the one to reverse the curse on the minister’s son. An act of magic like that would prove that I should be taken seriously, that I wasn’t just some farm girl from the edge of the country.
I would prove that I could be a sorcerer.
First, I had to find a dragon.
But as I traveled farther from the castle complex it seemed clearer to me just how very suspicious everything Hansen had done was, when taken in full measure. And during the wagon ride I wrote myself a little spell for clear eyes, clear heart, clear mind. I was somewhat suspicious that Hansen had managed to cast a spell that had infected everyone in the complex with some kind of strange admiration. Bumping along in the back of the wagon, it seemed incredible I would want to work with a man who couldn’t even remember my name.
And the more I thought about the entire situation, the more convinced I became that I needed to find these dragons before anyone else did. Because they might not be enamored of Hansen this far from the castle, but greed was always an effective motivator.
The wagon dropped me in Grantham, a small town that was considered the last vestiges of civilization before one entered the rough part of the mountains. It was clear from the activity in the town that I would have some competition in my dragon hunt. Men and women in armor traipsed through the town, leading horses laden with provisions. I hefted my own bag, mostly filled with books, but also containing a few pastries and apples, and headed toward the winding road outside of town.
The trees grew closely together, tall pines with thick trunks, and the undergrowth was thick with ferns and waist-high anthills that I had no intention of disturbing. As I walked until the town was no longer visible through the trees, I wondered how all of those warriors had planned on finding a dragon.
Luckily, I had magic on my side. And the one thing I knew how to do was find something.
A seeking spell was simple enough that even a child could use it. I used a pocketknife to slice off a thick lock of my hair and wrapped it around a fallen pine branch. Then, with a prick of the knife, I bound the hair to the branch with a bit of blood, because magic always requires a sacrifice of some sort, and began to mutter the incantation.
“By my hair
By my blood
Take these offerings
Search this land
For the thing I seek
And direct me
In my searching.”
I was supposed say the incantation thrice, but on the second time through, the stick began to glow and pull me through the forest. Quickly.
I had to hop and skip to avoid rotten logs and fallen debris, and a near miss with one of the giant anthills had me squeaking and brushing at my trousers to rid myself of the small creatures. But it seemed like my spell was working.
Eventually the woods opened onto a beautifully clear lake, the water reflecting back the sunset. Nearby was a small cave, far too small for a dragon, and disappointment flooded me. I’d wanted a dragon, but what I’d gotten instead was a lovely place to spend the night.
I sighed, sat down on a rock, and began to eat one of my apples. Maybe Hansen was right. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be much more than a hedge witch.
Despair weighed me down, making me sleepy even though the sun was just beginning to dip toward the horizon. I walked into the cave, making sure that it wasn’t occupied, and then bedded down for the night.
I would worry about finding the dragon on the morrow.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
I woke with a start to the sound of someone singing, the sound low and musical and heartbreakingly beautiful. A boy. And it was coming from outside the cave.
I climbed to my feet and walked out into the cool night in search of the source of the melody. I kind of wished I’d thought to bring a coat, but my blanket did the trick well enough.
Just a few feet outside the cave sat a youth tending a small fire. He startled when he saw me, and I held my hands up so he would see I meant him no harm. “I’m sorry, I heard you singing. Mind if I join you?” The boy had a brace of fish roasting over the fire, and my stomach growled loud enough to silence the sound of the chirruping night creatures in the nearby woods.
“I only had an apple for dinner,” I said by way of apology.
The boy smirked. “I have an extra fish if you’re hungry.”
I grinned, sheepishly. “That would be delightful. I have more apples I can share.”
I went back into the cave and came back with two of my apples. The boy took one and bit into it with gusto.
“I’m Lyle, by the way,” he said. His manners were definitely better than mine.
“Melie. Are you out here looking for the dragon as well?”
The boy stilled and tilted his head to the side, the motion so endearing that I felt warmth that could not be attributed to the fire. His face was very nice, from what I could tell in the firelight, and I tried to tell myself that my fluttery feelings were caused by hunger, not by him. “Dragon?” he asked.
“Ahh, I suppose you haven’t heard.” The boy had the same deep, dark skin of the southern clans, his hair in a pattern of tight braids. His eyes were strange, though, a golden color that seemed to glow in the firelight. I wanted to ask him where he was from, how he came by his strange coloring, but that would be rude, and I was so looking forward to his fish that I didn’t want to offend lest he change his mind.
“You were speaking of a dragon?” Lyle prompted. I mentally shook myself and nodded.
“The Minister of War’s son was turned to stone by a curse, and there is a horde of adventurers now looking for a dragon’s heart to break the spell.”
“What about you?” he asked, sliding a fish off a stick onto a wide green leaf and handing it to me. My fingers brushed his as I took the generous gift, and a shock of power flashed down my arm. Not magic, but the kind of power that made me wonder what it would be like to kiss this boy.
“Thank you,” I said, embarrassed by the sudden thought, even though Lyle’s smile had warmed considerably at the contact as well. “I’m trying to become a sorcerer. It’s not going great. But about the dragon’s heart? I think Hansen, that’s the High Sorcerer, well, I think he’s wrong. Or maybe plotting something, I’m not quite sure yet. See, I’ve read up on dragons, a lot, and one of the reasons they were hunted back in the old days is because they had the ability to break curses, and the old mages didn’t like that.”
Lyle stared at me, and I picked at my fish, feeling indescribably silly. “Anyway, I doubt I’ll find a dragon anyway, since they’ve been hunted near to extinction, and my seeking spell led me here.”
Lyle took a fish from the fire and bit into it, picking bones out of his mouth as he chewed. “What would you do if you found a dragon? Kill it?”
“What? No! Dragons are supposed to be intelligent and witty. I’d mostly want to talk to one. Well, assuming it didn’t incinerate me first. Not that I could blame it for taking offensive action, especially given how awful humans have been in the past. Anyway, that’s a lot about me. What brings you to these woods?”
He smiled, a flash of teeth that transformed him from handsome into something more, and I found my heart pounding in a way I didn’t quite care for. “Oh, I’m out here because once a month our village sends someone to check the nets.” He pointed to the lake, which now seemed to boil as fish thrashed in the silvery light of the moon. “The moon brings the krike to the surface, and we catch them. By morning there will be enough fish in the nets to feed my village for a month.”
Something about what Lyle said rang false. There was something he was leaving out, something important, and my face tingled with the omission thanks to my clear eyes, clear heart, clear mind spell. I watched him carefully, waiting for the spell to show me that lie, but I got nothing beyond the tingle.
I really wasn’t having much luck with my spellcasting.
I couldn’t deny that there were indeed fish and nets, so I wasn’t sure what he’d said that was untrue. I pushed the feeling to the side. “That’s amazing. I wasn’t aware there were any villages up this high in the mountains.”
Lyle nodded. “You should come back with me. Our elders have many stories of the dragons that used to roam these mountains. Maybe they could help you?”
I grinned, and my suspicions evaporated like mist in the early morning sun. Perhaps the knowledge of dragons was what had triggered the spell. Either way, this was a turn for the better. “That would be delightful.” There were few things I loved as much as stories, especially old ones told by village elders.
“Then it’s settled. We leave at dawn,” Lyle said, giving me a grin I liked far too much.
But when I woke the next morning, cold and stiff, I almost wondered if I’d imagined the entire meeting. The remains of the fire were there, but there was no Lyle, and every single one of the nets was gone from the lake.
But then a crashing echoed through the underbrush, and I turned toward the woods. And there, coming through the trees, was a real-life dragon.
I froze with fear as the creature lumbered toward me, unsure whether to scream, run, or just fall to the ground and cry. The creature was black as onyx and had eyes of amber. It stopped a few feet away and peered at me, sulfurous smoke leaking from its nostrils.
I took a deep breath and let it out. If the dragon wanted to hurt me it already would have.
As I studied the creature I began to see that the dragon looked familiar, and the more I studied it the more certain I became that the dragon and I had met before. “Uh, Lyle?” I said, feeling beyond silly. But the dragon let out a whoof of air and bobbed its head, and I laughed.
“You’re a dragon! Wait, that means my spell did work. Which means my translation is right,” I said, pacing as I put the pieces of the puzzle together. “I knew Hansen lied. Which means my suspicions about him having the castle complex under some sort of enchantment are correct. Ugh, that snake!”
The dragon tilted his head and I began to pace, my mind working through the possibilities of the depths of Hansen’s treachery. “What if he’s been translating everything wrong all this time?” I could suddenly see the entirety of the sorcerer’s plan, as though the universe had just laid it out for me. “He wanted all of the nation’s best warriors to head inland, away from the bay. But this also means that the ships the mermaids were complaining about weren’t ours. Oh no,” I said, as I realized what was going on. “Lyle, I know dragons have absolutely no use for us, especially in light of our history, but I think Klydonia is about to be invaded. Do you think you could give me a hand?”
A Phoenix First Must Burn Page 10
