How to Bond a Mage (Heir of Dragons Book 3) Page 2

  Minx nearly tumbled from Kaleb's back. “Huh? Winterlimb?” she blurted. “What do you mean? Why would he do such a thing?”

  The dragon shook his fearsome head, crowned with ivory horns. “I heard him calling out to me—heard his voice coming from afar. And then...” He gave something like a shrug, sighing. “I lost my strength. It felt like my power was being leeched—pulled out of me. And it seemed to be going back to Pandling Grounds.” Kaleb sniffed the air and took a few steps forward. “The feeling has passed now, thankfully. I'm better.” Looking upward, he stretched out his wings. “We should continue now. Time is of the essence.”

  Minx wasn't keen to take to the air again, but trusting Kaleb, she resumed her position and held on tight.

  Mau, though, remained frozen in place, whimpering pathetically as the three of them slowly rose.

  The remainder of their flight to the Talon Range was mercifully less exciting. Kaleb took his time on the rest of the journey, remaining at a lower altitude in case of a recurrence of the earlier trouble, but was able to make it to the vast platform beyond the peaks without great difficulty. When he finally touched down and returned to his human form, visibly fatigued and pale in the face, he sat down and relaxed for several minutes. Minx and Mau, just thankful to be standing on solid ground again, joined him.

  “What's the plan?” asked Minx as the three of them sat at the edge of the platform alone, looking down across the valleys surrounding the sprawling chain of mountains. “Last time, the generals didn't take too kindly to your, uh... forceful approach.”

  Kaleb smirked, still catching his breath. “Yeah, true enough. Because of the ruckus I caused last time, they might throw me in the dungeon the minute I rear my head. For that reason, we're going to seek out my father first. When I've spoken to him—won him over—then maybe we'll get somewhere.” His expression hardened up a little and he averted his gaze. “But harness your hopes... This could certainly blow up in our faces like it did last time.”

  These dragons are a selfish lot, chimed in Mau, finally calm enough to speak. They aren't going to budge. I'd bet on it. Things were dire the last time and they couldn't even be bothered to come up with an excuse for not helping us. They hate the Fae. It's that simple! I'm not sure this was such a good idea. Maybe we should have gone to Karn to ask the humans for help instead!

  When he'd had time enough to rest, Kaleb stood and led the two of them into the mountain. Slipping into one of the narrower passages and navigating by muscle memory, the dragon shifter took them through obscure pathways lit by staggered, guttering torches. She was reminded again of the profound beauty of dragon civilization; the phenomenal stonework present all throughout the mountain compound. How was it possible that these creatures—lovers of such beauty as this—could be so hard-hearted towards her people?

  Winding through the tunnels, the three of them encountered a handful of scurrying Kurgs—the mysterious, vaguely reptilian denizens of the mountain responsible for the fortress's gorgeous masonry. These curious creatures, so sensitive to sunlight, were not fond of interacting with visitors and so took off running with soft footsteps whenever others drew near.

  Finally, they arrived at a dense wooden door that Minx recognized. Beyond this door were the elegant quarters of Kaleb's father. Without knocking, Kaleb pushed the door open softly and stepped aside to let Minx and the Faelyr enter before him. When all three had entered, he shut the hefty door behind him and cleared his throat. “Father? Are you in?”

  Minx never tired of the beautiful main chamber, with its transfixing stone-cut skylights. The sumptuous furniture throughout the room proved inviting, and she accepted Kaleb's invitation to sink into a plush chair while he sought to rouse his father.

  They didn't have to wait long—no sooner had Kaleb called for his father did the elder dragon stagger out into the main chamber from one of the doorways across the way, his dark hair coiled over one shoulder and his brows arched in an amusing mixture of surprise, delight and annoyance. “Kaleb?” He strode across the room, clad in his rust-colored plate mail. “So, you've finally returned, have you?” His gaze then wandered to Minx and the Faelyr, sequestered in the corner, and suddenly his expression settled squarely into anger. “I see you've brought guests...”

  “Father, it's good to see you,” began the young dragon shifter, eager to break the ice.

  His father would have none of it, however. “Why, this can't possibly be my son, can it? I must have been mistaken. My son, when last I laid eyes on him, was marching through this mountain in an attempt to drum up support for some wild military mission or another. He left his father a laughing stock. 'Gidiam, what kind of father are you?' they've asked me. 'Why haven't you been able to control that son of yours?' No, surely this is not my son—my son would not dare to show his face in this mountain again after the mess he left!”

  Kaleb shrank at this, lowering his gaze. “I'm sorry, father. The situation was desperate. I thought that I could—”

  “You thought that you could strong-arm the leadership of the Talon Range into supporting your cause?” challenged Gidiam, tugging at his dark, wiry beard with a frown. “Yes, I'm convinced now that you are not my son! Surely my son is not foolish enough to have believed that!”

  “Father, the situation has worsened—drastically!” pleaded Kaleb. “The Fae have lost much—are nearly a conquered people. I came to their assistance and provided my own hide in the shielding ritual of the Fae Elders, and for the time being their lands are protected. Torrent's forces were driven away. But the battle isn't over. Far from it. Torrent's forces are amassing outside of the barrier, and once they find a way to breach it there will be no repulsing them. We must have the aid of the Talon Range!”

  Gidiam was taken aback by this report and said nothing for a long while, seemingly working out the details. He then turned to Minx, addressing her brusquely. “Help me to understand what this idiot son of mine is claiming. The spell of the Fae, which protects their territories, requires the hide of a dragon, does it not?”

  The Fae huntress nodded. “Yes, that's correct.”

  “And Kaleb offered his own?” Gidiam sized up his son incredulously. “How is this possible?”

  Minx cleared her throat and approached Kaleb's side. “He offered himself as a living sacrifice. He went through the ritual of his own accord and it was a success. Our lands are safe. Torrent's army was forced away and Kaleb is hailed as a hero among our people.” She blushed a little, adding, “We are in his debt.”

  At this, Gidiam's face brightened considerably. “A hero? My son?” He chuckled, nodding approvingly. “Well, that's welcome news.” He strode across the room and patted his son roughly on the shoulder, eyeing him for the first time without anger. “This changes everything.”

  “It does?” blurted Minx. Her heart soared. Had hearing about Kaleb's courageousness moved him to support the cause of the Fae? She hoped it was so.

  Gidiam nodded. “Our people love a hero! This is wonderful news indeed, and I will see to it that a banquet is thrown in your honor, my boy!” He slapped his son's shoulder again, peering up at the bright skylight. “The day isn't spent yet. We'll dine this evening—richly! And you, miss,” he added, pointing to Minx, “will tell the leaders about my son's bravery. Hold nothing back—let us celebrate him this night!”

  “So, is it possible that the generals will support our cause?” chanced Kaleb eagerly. “If I can address them tonight as well, perhaps we can get a force together and—”

  His father cut him off with a snorting laugh. “Oh, I can assure you there'll be none of that.”

  Minx and Kaleb both stiffened.

  “The generals have met very recently,” continued Gidiam. “Your recent behavior was discussed, and I can promise you that support for your cause has diminished even further since your last stunt. It was decided—almost unanimously—that the dragons will not assist the Fae in any capacity. The problems plaguing that foreign people are not our own. If the Fae rise
or fall, what is it to us? Some of us have no quarrel with the Fae, but we are not keen to adopt their troubles, Kaleb. A resolution was passed. There shall be no further collaboration between dragons and Fae.”

  In an instant, Kaleb's father had dashed her hopes. Minx stood breathless, stunned at his indifference.

  From the plush chair to her back, Mau piled on telepathically. I knew this would happen, said the Faelyr. This was doomed from the start. If only you'd listened to me.

  Chapter 3

  It didn't feel right to feast.

  Their reception had been warmer than on their previous visit to the Talon Range, and even those dragons in roles of leadership who'd threatened Kaleb with legal action for his entreaties found themselves shaking his hand and enjoying an opportunity to celebrate. But while the dragons made merry and praised Kaleb's courage, Minx knew that her people were still at risk. The Fae remained on the razor's edge, and this celebration was completely out of step with the pressing needs that had brought them all the way to the mountains.

  As the sun went down, a vast room near the war chamber was filled with tables and chairs. All were invited to dine, and before long the space was bustling with dragons in good humor. The ale flowed and decadent fare was served. Though rather hungry, Minx couldn't find it in herself to fully enjoy the luxurious meal set in front of her. She ate it with immense guilt, knowing that her own people were getting by with far less. Back home, we're starting to run out of supplies... And here I am, eating like a queen.

  Mau, seated on the floor beside Minx's chair, nabbed a bit of food from the table and scarfed it down contentedly. Her appetite, apparently, was unfazed by such scruples. Don't let it get cold, warned the Faelyr, her paws grazing the tabletop in search of a second helping.

  Kaleb shared Minx's disinterest in the festivities. He smiled and thanked those who praised him for his valor, but in the quiet moments he scarcely touched his food or drink, and whenever his eyes met hers she saw in them a marked sadness. This isn't what we came for, he seemed to be thinking. He sat to the right of his father, and several of the high-ranking dragon generals were seated in the surrounding spots, dining boisterously. Minx had secured the seat to Gidiam's left, and sat nervously beside him, wondering if she should make one final appeal for aid.

  During a lull between courses, she touched Gidiam's arm gently and leaned toward him. “Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but I wanted to ask you a question.”

  The elder dragon arched a brow and took a sip from his goblet. “Oh? What's that, miss? More ale?”

  “No,” replied Minx with a weak smile. “Thank you. You have been very kind to me and my companion Mau, but if I may impose on your kindness once more... I have a favor to ask.”

  Gidiam's eyes narrowed; he knew already what she planned to ask, but did not interrupt her. He sat upright and allowed Minx to speak her mind.

  “You are correct that the dragons owe the Fae nothing. We are two different peoples with a very turbulent past. We are in your debt for the assistance you rendered during the great battle some weeks ago... But I must ask—no, beg—that you aid us once more. My people, sir...” She swallowed hard, attempting to keep her violent emotions at bay. “My people are dying. Every day, more of my kind go missing. We have suffered catastrophic losses and, because trade has been cut off, will soon run through our supplies. Your son's bravery saved our lands, but unless we find a way to defeat the army gathering beyond our borders, it will all have been for nothing. I have no right to ask you this, but would you consider... please...?”

  The elder dragon's expression softened somewhat, and he reached out to pat her hand gently. “I know that my son is very fond of you, Minx. You are correct, however; you have no right to ask such things of us dragons.”

  Her heart skipped a beat and she lowered her gaze. Hot tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

  “Thanks to my son, your people have a barrier.” He shrugged. “What more could one need? Torrent has been rebuffed, has he not? Your people are safe. At any rate, we are concerned with our own affairs, miss.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Suppose our roles were reversed. Had my son come to the lands of the Fae, to your leaders, and asked a similar favor, would it have been granted to him? No... No, he would have been apprehended, possibly attacked. This is the nature of the relationship between our peoples. If I may be frank, his fascination with you is baffling to me. I don't mean it as an insult, miss, but it is quite unheard of in our circles. I suggest you forget all about assistance from our people. The Fae must figure things out on their own. We did come to their aid, once—but no more.”

  Kaleb said nothing all the while, merely listened from his father's other side. He stared down into his goblet, unwilling to stand up to his father or make a scene. He looked wrung out, exhausted. The journey had been long, and she knew that Winterlimb's call had also taken a good deal out of him. His fatigue saw him defer to his father without a word. Finally, after so many attempts to broker an alliance between the two races, the hope of any such thing had fully died in him. She could see it in his hooded eyes, in his scowl.

  Minx had little time for disappointment. A cadre of six dragons, dressed in full military kit, strode into the room and made a beeline for the table where Gidiam and the other top brass were seated. They greeted Kaleb's father and the others with wide grins, saluting the elder leaders and standing in a neat line behind the table. “Sirs,” one of them began, “we've just returned from our scouting mission.”

  “Ah, yes!” said one of the older dragons, passing the speaker a teeming goblet. “Welcome back, men! You've arrived just in time to enjoy the festivities! Gidiam, here, has some news. His boy has won a decisive victory against Torrent!”

  Kaleb lowered his head as another round of cheers erupted around him. In every retelling of the events, Kaleb's accomplishments became more and more inflated. Some had heard that he'd offered himself to the Fae Elders for the shielding ritual, but others claimed that he'd actually met Torrent on the battlefield and bested him. He'd been celebrated at the evening's start as the “slayer of a hundred Wuffs”, and was now heralded as the “mage-smasher” and “the red inferno” from opposite ends of the room where other exaggerated accounts of his doings had spread.

  “Torrent?” said one of the returning scouts, nodding at Kaleb. “Well, that's quite the coincidence, then. You see, sirs, we've returned with a troubling report. There does appear to be a force—reasonably large—approaching the Talon Range. Torrent is surely behind this march.”

  Kaleb's father chuckled darkly, balling one of his fists. “Ah, so the Dark Mage is on his way, then? Let him come. We will wipe him and his army off the map.”

  The other elders agreed, and asked the scouts for more details as a waiter came by to refill their goblets. The waiter, though, was knocked aside by one of the armored scouts, who suddenly lost his footing and collapsed. The terrible crash of his plate armor against the stone floors caused a ruckus, and the room momentarily fell silent as everyone turned to look. A few of the elder generals laughed, believing that the scout had merely tripped, but then a second—and more alarmingly, a third—began to collapse.

  All six scouts had fallen to the floor before the generals had even managed to gain their feet. “W-What?” Gidiam stood, knocking his goblet over in the process. “What's this?”

  A few concerned onlookers immediately left their seats to tend to the fallen scouts. “Hey!” called one. “What's the matter, fellas? You all right?”

  Tables and chairs were quickly moved aside and the six scouts were rolled carefully onto their backs. A physician was summoned and they were subsequently examined where they lay, dragons gawking from all around.

  Minx stood among them.

  One moment, those scouts—youthful and strong—had been speaking and ready to carouse.

  The next, they'd just collapsed. The lights had gone out behind their eyes and their legs had given way. As they were assessed, it became clear, much to the relief
of those gathered, that they had not died. “I found a pulse in each of them,” announced the elderly physician stooping over the last of the scouts. “But they're unresponsive. They seem to be in a kind of trance—bodies shut down, somehow. I've... never seen anything like it. A nervous shock, perhaps? Or an exotic poison?” He scratched at his balding head and made some discrete marks on a length of parchment. “They will require constant care and supervision. Please, help me to move them to the sick bay.”

  One by one, the fallen scouts were carried away.

  When they'd gone, the festivities did not return, however. The generals fell into deep, almost conspiratorial discussion, and many of them—Kaleb's father included—made their way to the War Chamber.

  What was that? asked Mau. They didn't look sick or injured when they came in!

  Minx nodded. Something strange is happening... And I'll be surprised if Torrent isn't somehow behind it.

  Chapter 4

  It was only thanks to Kaleb's status—as well as the complete confusion of the attending physicians—that Minx was allowed back to the sick bay where the scouts had been transported. She entered into a dimly-lit scene, with the six dragons laid out on separate examination tables and a small crowd of medical workers racking their brains by torchlight.

  The men were alive, but would not respond to any stimulus. They could not be roused from their sleep-like state by anything—no tincture in their arsenal produced a noticeable effect, and there were no wounds or other outside marks to address. It was as though the light had simply gone from their minds, leaving them as little more than husks with beating hearts and inflating lungs.

  “May I try something?” asked Minx, leaving Mau in the hall outside and striding cautiously into the room.

  One of the dragon physicians turned to her with a skeptical gaze. “Are you a doctor, miss?” he asked, thin lips curled with frustration.