Backyard Dragons (3 page)

“You did.” Justin beamed as he sat across from her. “Now do the same thing, only imagine a sword in your hands. Try not to stab me with it.”

Pleased with herself, Claire straightened. She patted Enion’s head, wondering how he could stand staying so quiet and still for so long. He made a noise in his throat that sounded like purring, so she knew he hadn’t fallen asleep. Patience was apparently one of his virtues.

“A sword, right.” She nodded, then she frowned. “What should a sword look like?”

“It can look however you want. You’ll be the one using it. The basic parts are a hilt to hold onto, a guard to keep your hand safe from a corrupted Phasm’s blade, and the blade itself.”

Claire thought about Justin’s sword. He used a straight blade with a plain, no-nonsense hilt. Her father’s, as she recalled, had been more ornate, with carving along the blade and a fancy guard. As she considered what to make hers look like, she couldn’t stop questions from popping up.

“Why do we use swords? I mean, why not baseball bats or guns? Swords are kinda old school, and from the training you’ve given me so far, they’re pretty hard to use.”

“Good question.” Justin cracked his knuckles and took a deep breath. “Our entire job is to hunt corrupted Phasms and their extensions, the ur-phasms and ne-phasms. Those are their proper names. If you want, we can just call them ghosts or spirits, because that’s close enough to what they are. In the simplest terms, a Phasm is an echo of a dead person, making it look, act, and think like the person did in real life. You know that from facing your father’s Phasm.

“Normal weapons can’t harm them. If you take an ordinary baseball bat into a Phasm’s demesne, you might be able to annoy it if your will is strong enough, but you won’t be able to destroy it without the power of the Palace backing you up. That only comes in the form of a weapon forged here. You could use a baseball bat forged here. Or a crowbar, a two-by-four with nails in it, or whatever else strikes your fancy. Guns are harder to use because the bullet is the part that needs to destroy the spirit. Once you see the hassle you have to go through to make things permanent here, you’ll understand that one.

“We all use swords for a few reasons. One is tradition. The original Knights all used swords. Until only a few hundred years ago, swords were the best option available for personal defense. No one questioned a man carrying a blade, and it often served him well in many aspects of his life. Nowadays, there’s no good reason to switch, because we can just pass it off as a costume or ceremonial thing.

“The second reason is practicality in slaying spirits. You really do have to cut them up to destroy them. A whack with a blunt object will slow them down, but it’s got to be slicing for the kill. And as to why we learn to fight with them properly, that’s because the corrupted Phasms were all once Knights. They know how to swordfight, so we keep learning how to do it.”

Claire almost gaped at him. Justin had never used so many words explaining a single concept before. She’d gotten the impression he barely knew anything about the whys of Spirit Knights. “Oh. Okay. That’s a pretty good reason.”

“I thought so.”

“Right. So, a sword for me.” Though she pictured a basic sword, it felt wrong in her head.

“Sleepy,” Enion said around a yawn. He walked up her shoulder, his tiny claws pressing through her shirt without breaking her skin, and draped himself around her neck. Though his legs, head, and tail dangled, his wings lay flat against his back.

He’d reminded Claire she had a dragon for a sprite. That made her unique, and her blade ought to reflect it. She closed her eyes and thought about the shape of Enion’s wings, teeth, and claws. The parts whirled in her head until they clicked together. She pictured a flat, silvery blade with the curve of a tooth. Wings flared at the base of the blade to guard her hand. Echoing a claw, the hilt curved and ended in a sharp point.

“That’s…different.”

Claire’s hand grasped something cold and she opened her eyes. She held a blade exactly like the one she’d pictured, except for one minor detail. The blade extended only twelve inches from the guard.

She slumped and sighed. “I screwed up.”

“Well, no. You created a blade that’s uniquely suited to you.” Justin scratched his cheek. “Actually, it makes a lot of sense for the Palace to consider a dagger more appropriate for you than a sword. You’re smaller and don’t have the same build as a guy like me. Daggers are lighter, and better for someone whose strength is more about surprise and agility. Like you. A sucker punch to the face is your style, and this will help you follow that up.”

“I guess. You’ve been teaching me to fight with a sword, though.”

“Yes, well.” Justin gave her a sour smirk. “I’m afraid I have to admit I’m not perfect.”

Claire snorted. “How could you say that? It’s like telling me there’s no Santa Claus.”

“Laugh it up, because the next part is no fun at all.” He reached out and tousled her dark hair.

Having seen him do the same thing to his little girls, the gesture chafed at the same time it warmed Claire’s heart. Being loved as a member of the family meant everything. They could work on the part where he sometimes saw her as a child later.

“Next,” Justin said, “you have to convince the Palace you deserve this item to help you carry out your duties as a Spirit Knight.”

“Uh?”

“Close your eyes. That same kind of demand you used to summon the light? Direct that at the desire to keep the blade with you at all times.”

Claire frowned at the blade. “But I want a sword.”

“Spend the next two years weightlifting and training, then come back and get a sword. You’re not binding your soul to this dagger for eternity. It’s not the same as your locket.”

“Fine.” She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Her job required a weapon, and she had a dagger. From the sound of things, trying to make something different now would be more trouble than it was worth. As Justin had instructed, she focused her thoughts on a demand for the dagger to be made permanent.

Chapter 4

Claire

Claire felt like someone reached through her body to grab her spine and yank her sideways. She snapped her eyes open to find herself sitting on a rocky outcropping, her legs dangling over the edge. No sun hung in the pale blue-gray sky, yet light glared down on her, throwing sharp, jagged shadows. She leaned forward and saw nothing but vague beige between her combat boots. The rock curved away, leaving her perched on an unsupported finger.

She scrambled back without getting to her feet and bumped into something solid. With a gulp, she turned to see a man’s feet in leather sandals, his skin tone matching her own. Blood red metal sleeves reminiscent of soccer shin guards covered his lower legs and knees, the surface swirling with an eerie crimson glow. Her gaze traveled up his thick, heavily-muscled thighs to the golden hem of his blazing white tunic. Strips of more disturbingly red metal formed a breastplate covering his broad chest. He cradled a helm of the same metal under one arm.

Beside him stood the largest horse Claire had ever seen. The huge beast’s coat, mane, and tail gleamed so white her eyes watered and she had to look away.

“Um, hi. Sorry to disturb you.”

Emotions flickered over his face too quickly for her to grasp. She thought she saw recognition before he settled into anger. He gripped the hilt of the blood red sword hanging from his golden belt, his knuckles turning white. “How did you get in here, Iulia? By what mad witchcraft have you bound a dragon to your service?” His jawline reminded her of her father, as did his eyes.

Claire blanched. Djembe had accused her of witchcraft. She raised her hands in the hopes he would give her a chance to explain. The dagger probably didn’t help, but she had no intention of letting it leave her possession. “My name is Claire, not Iulia.”

The man raised an eyebrow and sneered. “Yet you wear her guise.”

“I’m not pretending to be her, if that’s what you mean. This is just what I look like. I’m sorry if I remind you of someone else.”

The man crossed his arms, the fingers of one hand brushing the hilt of his blade. “I’ll not be taken in by your wiles again, woman.”

“My wiles?” Claire had never heard that word before, and his speech reminded her of old-fashioned movies about royalty and manners. His resemblance to her father made her belly flutter with confusion. She pushed all that away and decided to be grateful he hadn’t hacked her in half without giving her a chance to speak. “Whatever. I’m a Knight, and I’m here to make this knife real.”

“Girls cannot be Knights.”

She’d been told
that
more than enough times. “Yeah, I get that’s weird. Look, you’re connected to the Palace, right?”

“I am the Heart of the Palace.”

Claire figured that meant “yes.” Though she hated doing it, she pulled the locket out from under her shirt and held it up. “You can see stuff without trying, I’m guessing, or maybe just know things. I’m a Knight because my dad forged this to save me. The dragon—” She suddenly noticed Enion no longer lay draped around her neck.

Behind her, Enion stood on the precipice, his wings mantled for balance. Somehow, he’d grown to the size of a horse without her noticing. Like this, she could see a corkscrew curve winding up each of his horns, delicate blue ridges over the bones in his wings, and the hint of a slitted pupil in each eye.

“Uh. Right.” Claire coughed, hoping to cover her surprise and nerves. “The dragon is my sprite.”

The man slid a hand under the locket. Abject terror washed over Claire as she imagined him wrapping his hand around it and ripping the pendant away for the crime of not deserving it. With biceps thicker than her thighs, he could do anything he wanted, and she’d be powerless to resist. The pendant kept her alive. She’d die if he took it.

Beside him, the white horse whuffed, reminding Claire of Tariel. The man nodded and said, “A great deal of love fashioned this.” He let go of the locket.

Claire breathed again and tucked the necklace under her shirt.

“It’s intriguing that was forged without my knowledge or intervention. However, I see the truth of your statements. You are a Knight, if only because of this trinket, and the bond between you and this dragon is somehow that of a sprite. You’ll be the envy of many Knights for such a coup.”

“Great. Just what I need. So, um, how do I do the knife thing?”

He stroked his chin. Claire noticed he’d stopped touching his sword and hoped that meant he didn’t consider her a threat anymore. “Will you pledge to me, in this place, that you will always uphold your duties as a Knight, no matter what may befall you?”

“If that means saying I intend to try really hard not to die while fighting corrupted spirits and that sort of thing, then yes.”

“Very well. Then prove your worth.”

She waited for more instructions, or for him to do something. When he offered nothing else, she figured she had to ask better questions to get better answers. “How do I do that?”

The man lifted his brow. “I can’t remember being asked that before. Every time I say that, I get attacked. How refreshing. Perhaps we should have more ladies among the Knights.”

Again, she waited for more information that didn’t come. “So…am I
supposed
to attack you, or is there another option?”

“Do you think another option would prove your worth?”

“I don’t know what that means. You’ve already told me you believe I’m a Knight. I pledged to act like one. What more do I actually need to prove?”

“Tenacity. Strength of will. Courage.”

“Then…” Claire frowned. Justin had said it would be a hassle, but she’d expected some kind of mad obstacle course or ghosts to battle. “This is the test for whether I have what it really takes to be a Knight? What happens if I fail?”

“You die.”

She blanched. “I came here to make my dagger real. How does that deserve death for failure?”

The Heart’s brow quirked as he spoke down to her. “A Knight who cannot prove himself worthy of the duty is a danger and a distraction who will get other Knights killed. Better to cull the weak than suffer a fool. No one is coddled here. No excuses are tolerated. But you may withdraw if you feel you aren’t ready to face such a test. Do you wish to scurry away and preserve your life?”

Claire squared her shoulders and raised her dagger. She needed this blade to help Enion and to do her job. “No. I’m just not very happy about the terms of this. I’ve only been a Knight for a few weeks.”

He drew his sword and pointed it at her. “If you choose not to flee, then you must prove yourself.”

With no idea what else to do, Claire ducked her head and charged. He sidestepped with ease and stuck his foot out. She tripped and fell face-first onto the stone. Enion roared and pounced. The horse reared and kicked the dragon in the face, throwing him off the precipice.

Knowing Enion could fly, Claire didn’t worry about him. She lurched to her feet and ran at the Heart again, this time from behind. He whirled and lazily batted her dagger aside with his sword. He planted a sandaled foot on her chest and shoved her so hard she flipped in the air. Enion flapped into view again and breathed fire at both man and horse. Even though she’d been flung several feet and landed in a heap on the jagged rocks, Claire’s shirt caught fire.

Flopping desperately to put out the flames, Claire had no idea what else to do. She couldn’t beat this guy. To be entrusted as the arbiter of worthiness for the Knights, he had to have more skill and experience in his pinky finger than Justin and Djembe combined. Either of
those
Knights could beat her handily.

This demented ghost-thing toying with her stoked a fire in her belly. She’d never learned to fight with a dagger, and her scant sword training had barely stuck. Had Justin sent her here expecting her to win against a master soldier? And this soldier expected her to “prove herself”? Though fear gripped her, she glared at the Heart and struggled to her feet.

“Fighting an untrained Knight must be a real challenge for you,” she snapped. Holding her dagger up, she figured she could let him come at her instead. At least that way, she could try putting some of Justin’s training to use.