Drakonika (Book 1) (37 page)

Magnus continued staring at him blankly while he said, “Yeah, you already said that.”

Zimbadur gave him another bewildered look. “No I haven't,” he claimed. “Anyway, see you later. And Magnus
— nice cloak by the way.” Then the Guild Master waved them a good-bye and vanished behind the heavy gate which led into the arena.

While Magnus and Maren were trying to understand Zimbadur'
s strange behaviour, Fjalldís was gazing at her favourite cocoa cake behind the show-case with hungry eyes. The underground was colder than the town above, so it was a good place for selling cakes. Moreover, they were going fast.

Seeing all those sweets, Fjalldís bit her strawberry-red lip. She couldn't deny there were lots to choose from, but she already knew what she would order if she had money.

“Anything you like, miss?” the seller's voice cut through her dreaming.

Fjalldís removed her gaze from the show-case. “No ... no, thank you ... I'm just looking,” she said quickly, but almost against her will.

“Two of these cocoa cakes for the lovely lady here,” said a young male's voice on her left side.

Fjalldís turned in surprise, looking even more startled when she saw who it was.

Pine-green eyes, breezy brown hair, a proud expression on his face and two sheathed swords hanging on either side — it was the boy that Magnus had met outside! It appeared he had swept the dust off himself perfectly by then.

“I am Reinhart,” the boy said loftily, “a member of one of the Knightly Orders
— Knights of the Flame.” Before Fjalldís could say a word, her new admirer took her hand with an elegant move as he kissed it gently. “At your service,” he said as his looked up, his glimmering eyes gazing devotedly at her face. This boy was obviously acting like a sixteen-year-old, and from his quick and confident actions he apparently wasted no time at all.

Fjalldís felt her face burning.

“May I know your valued name?” Reinhart said, looking charmed.

“Ehmm ... Fjalldís ... Fyrdóttir,” she stammered, when suddenly she noticed Darius with his whole band emerging on her right. Even Viktor was there as obviously he was bored and had nothing better to do. Reinhart wasn't alone either
— there was a numerous group of friends (or fans) standing around him.

“Don't choke with all that sweet talk, chiseller,” Darius said venomously, piercing Fjalldís
' new admirer with his steel-blue eyes.

“Oh, who's this? A beggar from the streets?” Reinhart said derisively as the group of children behind him burst into laughter. Darius opened his mouth to shoot back, but he was cut off before he could even say a word.

“That wasn't very nice. He's my friend,” Fjalldís said. Although Darius had angered her countless times, she couldn't help standing by his side now. Reinhart's insolence was unacceptable.

“Your
friend
or your
boyfriend
?” Reinhart said darkly, leaning closer to her.

Fjalldís didn't feel much like a hero anymore. Seeing the highly confident boy with real weapons and his comrades surrounding him, she felt as though she was cornered by a deadly avalanche. “My friend,” she repeated a bit less resolutely.

“All right then,” Reinhart said, sounding a little relieved. “And does your friend have money to buy your favourite cakes for you?” he asked doubtfully, slowly raising his gaze to Darius who didn't even have a pouch and obviously carried no money at all.

Darius looked mortified. “Well, I ...” he stuttered, then fell silent as his gaze darted downwards.

“I didn't think so,” Reinhart said. He passed four copper coins to the seller and in the next moment, as if by magick, Fjalldís was holding her desired cakes.

Darius' nostrils were quivering from anger. “Without the money you're just another loser,” he said stoutly. This time it was the Black Squad who broke into a hearty snigger.

“What did you say?!” Reinhart barked at once. The two of them would have broken into a scuffle, if Fjalldís didn't stand in their way to separate them.

“Hey, cut it out! What's wrong with you guys? Are you really going to fight over cakes?” she scolded them, looking at Reinhart, then to Darius. But the boys knew it wasn
't about any silly cakes. “You know what? I've lost my appetite. Thanks,” she said bitterly, pushing the cakes in a linen cloth into Reinhart's hands. He looked more than stunned. That must have been the first time anyone dared to return his gifts!

Fjalldís turned away, pacing back to Maren and Magnus. She didn't look back even once as she obviously didn't regret her decision.

“Way to go, lover boy,” Darius scoffed as he left to the arena along with his friends, who were sniggering madly, turning back on the snob several times.

Reinhart stared after them ominously, thinking what to do with those cakes. In the end, he unwrapped one and took a bite himself. After all, he would certainly need the energy.

“Hey, did something happen?” Fjalldís said in a worried tone, when she saw Magnus trying to comfort the unsettled Maren.

“Oh ... Zimbadur was here and –” Magnus said, but was interrupted immediately.

“And he didn't remember me at all! Can you believe that?” Maren cried out suddenly. “I thought we would be good friends, that he would sign everything for me, that he would accept me into the Mages Guild without any trouble, that he would wish me ... nothing ...” she said, and with tears burning in her eyes she turned away from them.

Magnus and Fjalldís exchanged silent glances. Fjalldís had no idea what Maren was talking about, but Magnus couldn't help peeking into her mind. Now he understood why she was so sad.

“It's time to go,” Magnus said. “I need to get ready for the tournament.” The tone of his voice indicated that he felt as though his death was approaching him.

“Why do you always drag the backpack with you?” Fjalldís said, a note of irritation in her voice. She couldn't understand why he had to take so many things to a Magiker tournament.

“Shhh ...
the
book
is inside ...” Magnus whispered.

Although the corridor had been deserted for a while, suddenly there was somebody else standing next to him, other than just Maren and Fjalldís.

“Do you mean the black tome which you took from the library of the Ragnan Mages Guild? Left wing, twelfth aisle, third left turn, the highest shelf in the sixth rack?” said a familiar voice behind Magnus.

All three friends jumped about a foot in the air when they noticed an old man dressed in a violet robe standing next to them. Solas! How did he get there so sneakily? And how could he know about the book? Magnus had automatically tried to read his mind, but he twitched in pain; Solas was protected. But it wasn't only Magnus who got scared almost to death
— Maren basically helped him steal the book.

Solas didn't seem to be aware that Magnus had attempted to read his thoughts. “You think I have not noticed? I spend way too much time in that library. You are carrying a deadly item, novice,” he said simply. His tone indicated that he considered Magnus a total greenhorn who couldn't wield the book's power.

All three of them knew that Solas was right, but it was the only thing that could have helped Magnus remember his past. After all, he was the only one who could read it and understand what it said. He was also the one who received a divination which showed him where to find it. And there was some sort of instruction inside that he intended to follow.

None of the children dared to speak.

“It would be appropriate if you returned the book where it belongs,” Solas said, his voice calm but uncomfortable like the silence before a storm.

Magnus kept staring at his boots. “I ... I know ... Valezar told me the same thing,” he said, his spirit breaking.

“And? Did you listen?” Solas snarled, but he wasn't waiting for an answer. “Of course not. The old fool was right at least in one thing.”

Old fool? Magnus couldn't help wondering about this
— why did Solas keep calling Valezar names?

“Why do you keep insulting him? It was
him
who asked me to return the book,” Magnus said defensively.

“Of course he did ... planning on taking the book from you, I suppose. But it would have never come back to the Guild of Mages, because he wants it for himself,” Solas said firmly.

“What?” Magnus breathed disbelievingly, having difficulty not to start laughing. Such an accusation sounded completely ridiculous to him. Valezar? The kind old man who would do just about anything to help others?

“You heard me well,” Solas snorted gruffly. “You do not seem to have a problem in meeting a person that you know nothing about. I am sure he has not honoured himself by telling you why he was sacked from the guild, has he?” he asked, although his voice suggested that he was certain Valezar didn't mention it at all.

A moment of silence proved him right.

“Valezar was always poking his nose where he should not have been. He was doing experiments with some gateway to another world, trying to find what was hidden behind it, how to get to the other side and how to prove to us that it existed. In the end, he did it
— partially. He managed to acquire energy from a world behind it and bind it to a piece of crystal. All of this was so dangerous that we had to inform the King of Aria himself about the whole matter. Well, he decided to sack him from the guild. I am sure Valezar knows that the thing you are carrying in your rucksack has the same energy as that which he had acquired from his experiments. Believe me, boy — if the book ended up in his hands, bad things would happen,” Solas said softly.

Magnus, Maren and Fjalldís stood rooted to the ground. A gateway to another world? That was exactly what the book spoke of! There was no mistaking that at least a part of what Solas had said was true
— it must have come from an entirely unknown world. It surely didn't belong to anyone from the Kingdom of Aria and certainly not to children like themselves. But if that was indeed the case, it would mean that Magnus had something to do with this mysterious world.

“It wouldn't be wise to leave such a terribly powerful artefact in your hands,” Solas said. He then paused for a while, as though waiting for Magnus to give him the book. That didn't happen, so he went on, “It appears that its language is that of the dragon kind,” he said in a mystical voice. He looked at the girls with a scary look in his eyes, as if he wanted to frighten them even more.

“Of the dragon kind?” repeated Magnus blankly, staring at Solas from under his hood.

“Yes. A word has come to me, speaking of this Black Prince or whoever. Apparently, he is a real dragon and we suspect that he has something to do with the nightly hauntings in Ragna,” Solas said enigmatically, as though he suddenly enjoyed disclosing the biggest secrets of the Mages Guild to a group of non-members. It was probably not often that he spoke to anyone at all.

“So he's dangerous?” Fjalldís gasped, her voice shaking.

“You cannot imagine how much. And if he finds out that you have something that belongs to him, you do not want to know what he will do to you. It will be better if you give the book to me right now,” Solas said strictly.

“But –” Magnus started in an attempt to counter him, but he was cut off.

“Hand it over or I'll call the police. You stole that book,” Solas reminded him sharply.

“Magnus ... Maybe it will be better if you just do what he says,” Maren said carefully.

If all the guilt was on Magnus alone, he would have run away with the book in his backpack. However, Maren'
s freedom was at stake as well. He slowly dropped it, pulled out the black tome and against his will, he gave it to the grumpy old mage whom he loathed so much. When Solas tore it away from his hands, Magnus felt as if he had torn away a piece of himself.

Solas wrapped the book in his robes so swiftly that it vanished from their sight within a fragment of a second. “Now go get ready for the tournament,” Solas said crabbily. At these words, he turned on his heels and quickly disappeared behind the arena gate.

“What will I do?” Magnus said desperately. “Now I will never find out who I am!”

Maren remained in thought for a while. “I think we already know that,” she said, looking up.

“What?” said Fjalldís, still shaken from what had just happened.

“What?” Magnus repeated, so perplexed that he even forgot about his ability to read people's minds. Well, at least Maren'
s.

“Don't you understand? Magnus, you're the Black Prince!” Maren breathed, shaking Magnus wildly. “A vision in the crystal ball has led you to the book. You're the only one who can read it. You can breathe fire, you are probably cold-blooded, you have amazing abilities in magick and telepathy and your transformation speaks for itself!”

“Oh my goodness! Magnus ...” Fjalldís gasped, staring at him. “You … you are a dragon!”

The girls didn't scream, but they took a safety-step back. Could this really be true? Magnus remained rigid like a statue, as if putting together everything he had learned in the past few minutes. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts. This was just too much
— way too much.