FireDrake (26 page)

“And I bet a true wizard’s instruction doesn’t hurt either.”

“No, our friend the minstrel seems to learn new talents and skills quickly.”

“He’s more than our friend.” She turned to him and he felt the chastisement and query in her probing grey gaze. All his own turmoil rose and he knew the time had come to discuss his discomfort.

“He’s our bondmate. Our family. I know that, but I have no idea what this new development will mean to us as a unit. How can I fight alongside a mage? I’m a simple soldier.”

She touched his cheek. “A soldier you may well be, but simple? Never that.”

Reaching up, she kissed him gently. “The Mother of All has plans for us we cannot fathom. It’s like Gryffid said. Each of us came to this island for a reason. We need only figure out what it is.”

He hugged her close as they turned again to watch Drake’s progress.

“I believe I was brought here for a lesson in humility.” Mace smiled wryly. “All those years I strove to be the best. I had to work so hard to equal and only sometimes surpass what came to Drake naturally. But he never saw it. I never begrudged him his natural ability. But now…”

“Now he’s a mage.”

“There’s no way to compete with that.” Mace felt fear for the first time, but it wasn’t fear of Drake or his abilities. It went deeper than that. “I’m afraid he won’t need us now.”

His arm tightened reflexively around her as she snuggled into him.

“Time will tell, but I have hope the Mother of All knows what she’s doing when it comes to the five of us. For one thing, you know Jenet will never let him go again, and I get the feeling she can be tenacious.”

Her little chuckle warmed Mace’s heart. “I believe you’re right on that score at least, milady.”

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“Then we’ll just have to see where this leads. Drake is a mage now. There’s no turning back from something like that. We’ll need to stand by him and accept him for what he is and what he can do, trusting him to believe in our love and accept it as his due.”

Mace turned and hugged her close. “You’re a marvel, my love. I don’t deserve you, but I’ll never let you go.”

“Good.” She smiled up at him. “Because I’ll never let either you or Drake off the hook. You’re mine now. Get used to it.” The saucy wink she gave him belied her warning words.

In the courtyard, flames erupted around Drake’s body, surrounding him in a pillar of fire, but all he felt was their warmth, none of the searing pain associated with natural flame. No, this was magical flame, and it came from within himself. He could hardly believe it.

“Good,” Gryffid coached him from several feet away. “Now shape the power to your will. Command it and control it. Do not fear it, for it cannot harm you.”

“Or us
,
”
Jenet said from behind him. She was on his right, Nellin next to her on his left. The dragons were there to help contain his fire, should it go out of control, but so far, he was able to master the immense energy that wrestled with his will.

“I was going to encourage you to let it all out, but I see I miscalculated your power, young Drake.” Gryffid was laughing, apparently pleased with himself, though Drake didn’t quite understand why. It was all he could do to retain control over the wriggling energies that vied to be let free.

With Gryffid’s help, he’d learned to tap into the river of power that lay just beneath his soul’s surface. It had always been there, but Drake was only marginally aware of it.

Only at times when the Jinn power had been high had he felt the stirring, the rippling of energy current down deep inside him. He always felt itchy at such times—like something inside him was yearning to be free—but he hadn’t known. No way could he have known the immense burning river that flowed beneath his surface, waiting for him to tap into it.

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The feeling was like no other. The fire cleansed him. It burned him down to his simplest needs. Jenet was there, as always in the burning center of his soul, but so too was Krysta. Beautiful Krysta. Her love nurtured him and helped him bank his fire. Mace was there too, he saw, and Nellin, on the periphery, ready to protect him should he fail. It was a comfort he hadn’t known since leaving his home.

They were part of him. Perhaps the best part. The thought of their love and care humbled him and gave him the strength to control the fire, to temper the flames. They were his world. His family.

Slowly the flames came to heel. He felt their submission with triumph. The inferno that surrounded him died down, but he knew he could recall it with the merest flicker of his will. It was a heady feeling.

“Magnificent!” the wizard cried, clapping his hands. “You’re a natural, my dear boy.

And more powerful than I would have imagined. Perhaps Draco’s blood runs thicker in you than I’d first thought. This is good. Very good indeed!”

Drake felt the drain as he fought the magic for control and won. He was suddenly tired, but Jenet was there, the coils of her long neck supporting him when he swayed on his feet. Fire was the dragon’s element, so Drake didn’t worry overmuch about the flames that still licked at his feet hurting her.

“Is it all right?”
he asked, just to make sure.

“Your fire can never harm me
,
”
she assured him.
“Just lean on me. You’ve had a
startling introduction to your magic. It’s bound to tire you at first, until you get used to it.

I remember when I was just a hatchling. Managing the magic was even more tiring than
learning to fly.”

“I think you have something there, Jenet.”
Drake chuckled wearily as he pushed the fire out completely. It wouldn’t do to walk around all day with flaming feet.

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Drake needed to lie down after his first lesson in magic. Mace and Krysta used the opportunity to take Gerrow and Lilith up on an invitation to train with their troops. The fair folk kept a fighting group the size of a small army ready at all times. Mace was surprised by the idea of such vigilance, but after watching them drill for just a few minutes, he understood these warriors were very serious about their calling indeed.

Punches weren’t pulled. You either evaded or got hurt. Considering the fair folk were the next best thing to immortal, Mace figured that was a luxury of their training humans couldn’t afford to emulate. At least not among lower ranked warriors. Elite fighters often did train with no holds barred, but it was too easy for a newcomer to make a crippling or fatal mistake.

The men and women trained together, of which Mace approved. You could never choose the sex or skill level of your enemy in a real fight, so segregating your troopers for every facet of their training didn’t serve them well at all. Krysta jumped in with both feet, joining her new friend Lilith with gusto as they moved through the figures of an intricate fighting dance. Krysta had no fear, he’d give her that, but Mace wanted to watch and learn more before he entered the fray. There was much to be learned from observing how these folk trained. Perhaps some of their teachings could be used to better serve the knights or guards of Draconia.

Eventually though, Mace felt he’d seen enough. The tang of battle was too tempting on his tongue and he joined in the fighting practice, glad when he more than held his own among the elite corps of fair folk. They weren’t pulling their strikes for him, which he took as a compliment, and he returned the favor, scoring a few hits that took the fair folk by surprise.

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warriors. Mace cleared to the side of the square to see what would become of the smiling challenge in the young prince’s eyes.

He was not to be disappointed. Four fey swordsmen broke off from the main group—experts all, from what Mace had already observed. They faced the prince, each taking one side, while the prince stood ready. Krysta sidled up next to Mace as the entire group stood back to watch.

What followed was a blinding display of speed and skill the likes of which Mace had never seen. The elegantly curved swords flashed in the afternoon sun, swirling in patterns too complex and fast to see clearly. William was amazing. Once again, the expert swordsmen didn’t go easy on the young prince, but he was faster than all four of them combined.

Mace realized he was watching magic at work. Somehow the prince had learned to tap into his dragon speed and strength even more than any of his line Mace had observed.

No doubt, King Roland, Prince Nico and the rest of the royal brothers were able to call on the strength and the fire of their dragon half while in human form, but Mace had never seen nor heard of anything like this.

When the four swordsmen retreated—each having been defeated—the prince wasn’t even breathing hard.

“Now that—” Krysta nodded toward where Prince Wil was speaking with the warriors he’d just battled, “—was something I never thought to witness.”

“Agreed.” Mace would have said more, but Lilith tossed two shining metal objects straight at Krysta. They were long and slender, but somewhat boxy, in a shape that puzzled Mace.

Krysta, seeing them out of the corner of her eye, shot her hands out reflexively and caught the objects. They were each about a foot long. Surprise crossed her features, to be replaced with a huge grin. A moment later, two resounding snaps made Mace step back.

The objects were fans, but these were no mere lady’s adornment. These were metal fans that had the distinct ring of steel, intricately patterned, to be sure, but tipped with sharpened, razor edges. They were weapons!

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“Do you know the way?” Lilith seemed to challenge Krysta as the women squared off. Two more sharp snaps and Lilith was armed with her own set of bladed fans.

“I have danced the dance,” Krysta answered with an almost gleeful glint in her grey eyes, matching the glint of sharpened steel she now twirled in both hands.

They didn’t bow in the formal way of men, but rather did the graceful half-curtsy of noblewomen before engaging in a lightning fast swirl of bodies and blades almost too fast for Mace to follow. The battle was circular in form, with a great deal of pivoting and turning, long graceful sweeps of the fans that could be so very deadly if they made contact with tender skin. It was clear both women were expert with the amazingly odd weapons. Mace had never seen the like.

In a day of novel happenings, this ranked right up there with fireballs and wizards.

The demure woman Mace had pledged his life to was more than the simple warrior he’d come to respect. She was some kind of weapons expert with knowledge of things he’d never even heard of. It was humbling, but also incredibly intriguing.

Mace settled in to watch the match as the women made graceful, arcing patterns with their supple bodies, their sinuous arms and those lethal half-circles of steel. The flash of light off the blade edges, as well as the patterns on the finely wrought metal was dazzling and hypnotic. Mace was fascinated by the exaggerated movements needed to use such clever weapons.

The benefits of this kind of weapon were not lost on him either. Many women carried fans, as did men in warmer climates. A fan would not be remarked upon in places where folk could not go about armed with blades or bows. Social gatherings, for example, or intimate interludes. The sharpened blades of the fan could probably be concealed beneath a fabric covering until such time as the warrior was ready to strike.

This then, was a perfect assassin’s weapon.

And Krysta was an expert with it.

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fine lines that welled with blood on her arms and legs. Lilith had fewer, but Krysta had held her own. Mace was proud of her showing against such a formidable opponent.

The four fans snicked closed as the women curtsied to each other a final time. Lilith closed the distance, a broad smile on her face.

“You’re far better with those than I would have credited.”

“Thank you. That’s high praise coming from such a skilled warrior.” Krysta turned the fans over to the fair woman. “It’s been a while. Frankly, I’m glad to know I still have the knack, even if you were pulling your punches a bit.”

“Not by much, Lady Krysta. I have never battled a human with as much fan skill as you. It was a pleasure.”

“Likewise.” Krysta grinned, but it turned to a grimace as she held one hand to a cut bleeding more profusely along her thigh now that they’d stopped moving.

Lilith must have seen it as well, for she called to one of her students and a young male rushed over. “Lothar will see to your injuries. He has more healing power than I.”

Lilith nodded and left the strange man facing Krysta.

“My sister is a little abrupt,” the man began, moving closer. “I’m Lothar, youngest of the Eliadnae line. Lilith is my eldest sister. She’s our best warrior of her generation, but not much on tact, I’m afraid. Please allow me to see to your wounds. Lilith’s will heal momentarily, but you are human.” He shrugged to punctuate the observation.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lothar. I’m Krysta.”

“Yes, I know. And Sir Mace.” Lothar’s gaze met Mace’s, radiating assurance. Mace could see this man was much older than he appeared. The youthful face and eager gait to his step hid ancient eyes that held far more knowledge and power than a mere youth could, or should, have.

“I would be grateful if you could assist my lady,” Mace said in the formal way of these people, nodding to the man.