WinterMaejic (3 page)

I suppose I should have expected it. The next morning’s meditation session went as badly as it possibly could. I closed my eyes and rummaged in my desk drawer to pull out two candles at random. Orange for creativity and yellow for kindness. I sat on my prayer mat in my small room, stuck the candles into some ancient holders, carved from petrified wood, that Yallick had given me, lit the candles, and waited to see what the power would feel like today. And waited. And waited.

I told myself that trying to force something is usually the best way to hinder it. Then I tried to find my calm center. It was gone, almost as if it had never existed. Was yesterday’s taste all that I would ever experience for myself?

Finally, I gave up and blew out the candles. Someone knocked on my door, and Traz called my name softly. It was uncanny how he always seemed to know right when I finished meditating.

“Come,” I said, and he opened the door, breathless from running, as usual.

“It’s weird outside,” he said, sitting on my cot and placing his staff across his lap.

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know. It’s ice cold, there’s no wind, and there’s almost no sound at all. Almost like the forest is holding its breath in anticipation.”

I looked at Traz, wondering when he’d become so fanciful. He was usually the more practical one of us. “In anticipation of what?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. But it’s weird.”

“Well, come on. I need to get ready for a lesson with Yallick.”

“I’m sure glad I don’t have to study with him. He’s always in such a bad mood.”

“A lot, but not always,” I said as we walked into the front room of the cottage.

Just then there came a loud pounding on the door. “Yallick! Yallick!” The door opened and someone burst into the room along with a blast of cold air from outside.

“Anazian!” Traz cried in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

I looked at the mage with whom Traz was staying. His eyes darted all around the room, although a quick glance was all that was needed to see that Yallick wasn’t there. Anazian’s face was paler than usual, and it looked as if he’d left his own cottage without even combing his hair—which was quite unusual for him. And strangest of all, his hands fluttered all about, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. All in all, he didn’t look anything like the composed, handsome man I knew him to be.

“Yallick hasn’t returned from his morning meditation yet,” I said, taking a step toward the open door to close it.

“Yes, I have,” Yallick said, striding through the doorway, gripping his meditation candles in his hand. In a moment of strange clarity, I saw that his knuckles were white. “What is it, Anazian?”

“They’re coming, sir. They march against us!”

“Who?” Traz, Yallick, and I all said together.

“The king’s men.” He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “The Royal Guard.”

Ah, Arellia. My sweet Arellia. Wife of my youth, mother of my beloved son. I miss you still, though many long years have passed since our final parting. I taste your sweet breath; I feel your soft hair. There has been no other but you.

I am powerful, far beyond our hopes and dreams. But the flavor of victory is bittersweet without you by my side. I will miss you until I draw my last breath.

If my power could bring you back to me, I would spend it all. But there is no magic that can stretch beyond the grave.

It may yet be long ere I join you, but be patient. Await me, my love, in Otherworld.

We all froze. Yallick was the first to move, and he closed the door. Then he grabbed Anazian’s upper arms and stared into his eyes.

His next words came out like a hiss between his clenched teeth. “What do you mean? How soon?”

Anazian licked his lips. I couldn’t blame him. If Yallick had been looking at me like that, I would have wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.

“I don’t know, sir. I just received a message bird from my cousin. She says they passed through her village yesterday. That would put them here in less than a week.”

Yallick released Anazian and started pacing. “How could they know we are here?” he eventually muttered to himself. “This community has remained hidden for a thousand years and more. It is impossible that they have discovered us.” Several more laps around the room, the only noise the crackling of the fire and the beating of my heart.

I’d just spent several weeks on the run from the Royal Guard. Only being able to fly on Xyla had saved me. But Xyla couldn’t save the whole community of mages; there were hundreds of them living scattered all around the woods.

Finally Yallick spoke again. “We must call a council. Anazian, how many birds have you at the ready?”

Anazian stood straighter, calmer, as if Yallick’s assumption of responsibility removed a burden from him. “Eight, sir. Maybe ten.”

“All right. Here is what we shall do.”

Ten minutes later, I raced along a path toward Ranna’s cottage whilst Traz went in the other direction to Klemma’s, with word that Yallick was calling an emergency council for midday. Anazian’s birds would carry messages to the other council members, some of whom would be hard-pressed to arrive in time for the start of the meeting, even on horseback.

When I reached Ranna’s door, I pounded on it, just as Anazian had on Yallick’s only minutes, it seemed, before. “Ranna!” I cried, “Ranna!” Where could she be? Why didn’t she answer the door? I hammered again. “Ranna!”

“What, my child?” She appeared from around a corner of the cottage. Her hands were coated with earth and held a basket of potatoes. There was a large smudge of dirt on her forehead. “What is your panic?”

“The king,” I said, running over to her. “He’s marching against us.”

“The king himself?” The doubt in Ranna’s eyes was apparent, even to me.

“I don’t know,” I snapped, and she stepped back at my vehemence, frowning. “Maybe not himself. But the Royal Guard.”

Something in my voice or face must have convinced her that I wasn’t joking, for she looked at me closely. “How do you know this?”

“Anazian received word from his cousin or something like that. Yallick has called a council at midday. Anazian’s birds are taking messages to the others. Oh, please, Ranna, hurry!”

She looked deep into my eyes, and I could almost feel her rooting around in my thoughts. Then she nodded. “Tell Yallick I will be there.”

“All right.” I fled before she could ask me any more questions I couldn’t answer.

When I got back to Yallick’s, I found him sitting in front of the fire, staring at a book on his lap. The fingertips of one hand gently stroked the cover, almost as if the book were a living thing.

“Ah, Donavah,” he said as I hung my cloak on its peg. “Come here, please.”

I walked over, unable to take my eyes from the book, which seemed to glow in the firelight.

“I had meant to wait, but now there is a new sense of urgency. Sit, girl, sit.”

I did, wondering how he could be so calm, as if nothing were happening.

“This book, it is a maejic treasure. It has been in my keeping since I was elected to this position. I do not know if I am right, but I deem that now is the time to bring it into the open. It concerns you, or rather, your companion yonder.” He nodded his head in the general direction of Xyla. “For now, just read it.”

He handed it to me, and I accepted it reverently. Something about it—perhaps the musty odor given off by the vellum pages, perhaps the way the colors of the illustration on the cover seemed to leap into life—made this a solemn moment.

“Go to your room, now. I will call you when I want you.” He gave me a small, encouraging smile, then stared into the fire.

I carried the book to my room and set it gently on my writing desk. A beam of sunlight fell on it, and as if it had been waiting for that very thing, a red dragon practically leapt off the cover. I gasped. And sat down quickly.

Yes, there in the whorls of gold, blue, and green flew an unmistakably red dragon. And it breathed fire! How had I not seen it right away?

With great care, I opened the book. The hand-scribed text was in a script I couldn’t read. Yallick knew that, and yet he wanted me to study it anyway. How curious. But the pictures!

In the first one, a copper-colored adult dragon sat gazing into the sky in which ten or so small red dragons flew. The second illustration showed a group of red dragons sitting in a circle, as if in council.

As I looked at the second picture, a movement from the first one caught the corner of my eye. When I looked at it directly, it was exactly the same as it had been before. But when I turned my head a little and didn’t look quite straight at it, the picture seemed to come alive! The young dragons cavorted, swooping and soaring, while their mother bugled at them in good humor. I could almost
hear
her!

As I watched, scarcely able to breathe in the excitement of my discovery, all the pictures began to move, and soon I’d pieced together the story they told. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t read the accompanying text—the pictures told their own tale.

The copper matriarch, Xylera, brought forth eleven red dragons, the like of which had never been seen before in all the world. Her mate, the silver dragon Qonth, ruled Alloway together with King Gren. Qonth decided not to tell Gren of the surprising brood his offspring turned out to be. Instead, he sent Xylera and their young into the mountains, that humans would not learn of them. Together, Qonth and Xylera breathed power and knowledge into their progeny, desiring that in some future day, their descendants would wrest ruling power away from the humans.

The last picture showed a large formation of fire-breathing dragons sweeping down into battle.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked away from the book. That must have been the battle where they were overcome. I knew that story. Yallick seemed to think that it was linked to Xyla—and to me—here and now. So that’s why he wanted me to study this book. I ran my fingers lightly over the images, feeling the texture of the ink and gold leaf.

I began to turn the page, eager to see the next story, when Yallick called to me.

“Donavah, I need you to go check on Xyla.”

As I walked past the group gathered in the main room, Yallick caught my eye, and a pulse of understanding shot through me. He needed for me to be outside, out of earshot of the council. I frowned. After everything I’d already been through, everything I’d done, when would I be old enough to participate?

I found the dragon sleeping yet again. The thin sunlight shone on her, although it didn’t seem to actually warm the air much. Well, it was going to get colder before it got warmer. I pulled my cloak more tightly around me.

For a little while, I just stood and looked at Xyla. I still hadn’t gotten used to the idea that this breathtaking animal was my friend. She was the only known red dragon; the rest were white, silver, gold, copper—colors like that.

The story was that the dragonmasters in Ultria had been trying to develop new hybrids, and the Ultrian Prince, Havden, had sent an egg from one of the clutches to Princess Rycina, the king of Alloway’s eldest daughter, as a gift to celebrate their betrothal. En route, the egg had been stolen, and by a very strange set of circumstances, ended up in my brother Breyard’s possession, whereupon it hatched. Breyard released the baby dragon into the woods near Roylinn, the magic academy where we were both students, but the egg had been traced and Breyard arrested. I knew he hadn’t stolen the egg, but he was tried and convicted anyway, and sentenced to death in the king’s dragon-fighting pits.

I gave a little half-smile. If I hadn’t gone after him to try—foolishly and unsuccessfully—to prove him innocent, he would be dead now. For that little baby dragon, Xyla, had gone to Stychs—a mysterious place out of the world entirely—to grow, then flown Traz and me to the capital city, Penwick. Unfortunately, she’d been spotted and captured. Apparently thrilled to have acquired a new, unique, full-grown dragon, the king had decided to pit her against the biggest criminal in the land, egg-thief Breyard. As the “fight” began, Traz’s magic staff had broken the net of spells covering the arena. Xyla seized Breyard and disappeared—to Stychs as I learned later—and came back for Traz and me, and flew us all to safety.

“You worry.” Xyla’s voice intruded on my thoughts. I hadn’t noticed her eyes open. Now she was watching me.

“Yes, I
am
worried.” I walked over and leaned against her. For the first time, it occurred to me that she could swallow me whole if she were so inclined. I’d seen that just about happen in the one fight I’d watched between a dragon and a man. I instantly tried to blot that image from my mind, before Xyla could pick it up. No point in distressing her.

“You worry too much. What is wrong now?”

I knew I shouldn’t tell her, but I really couldn’t hide it from her. “The king’s men are coming. I’m afraid they’re going to attack.” I took a breath to try to steady myself and keep from breaking into a panic. “Oh, Xyla, the Royal Guard are coming after me again. Why can’t I just be left in peace? Why is everyone always hunting me down?”

I could almost hear her mental sigh. “It is not you they seek. And we are safe. They cannot find us here.”

“How can you be so sure? Even Yallick is worried; he’s called the council together.”

“Then they shall decide what is to be done. There is nothing for you to worry about.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have Yallick trying to drive all kinds of knowledge into your head.” Which wasn’t quite true or fair, but the thought of seeing the Royal Guard in their purple and scarlet uniforms sent shivers down my spine. Once I’d thought they looked handsome; now just a glimpse of those colors terrified me. And made me say things I didn’t really mean.

“I thought you wished to learn from Yallick,” Xyla said, her voice sounding a little confused.

“Oh, I do. I guess. It’s just that . . .” What exactly was it that was bothering me? “He seems to think,” I said slowly, trying to put my vague feelings into words, “that there’s something special about me, as if there’s a task I have to do. I mean, I’m just me. What special thing could I ever do?”

“No one knows what they can do until they have to do it. You know that. And you have already done something special. Because of you, Breyard is still alive.”

I sighed. “Yeah, that’s true. But still, I wish Yallick wasn’t so . . . so . . . intense. He kind of scares me sometimes.”

“Yallick is a good man.”

I snorted. “He might be a good man, but he isn’t always a nice one.”

“He has had . . . disappointments.”

There was, quite simply, nothing I could say in reply to that. I decided instead to try to return to the original topic of conversation.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave here.”

“But where would we go?” Xyla seemed honestly perplexed.