Rare Form: Descended of Dragons, Book 1 (4 page)

I
stood sucking
breath after breath, making an effort—and failing—to regain my composure. My wobbly legs melted completely when I pried my fingers from my escort’s arm so I bent and braced my hands on my knees until the moment passed. Gresham, though, looked as if we’d just stepped through any other doorway. Traveling to another world using only the power of thought? No big.

“Aha,” he said and threw his arms open wide. “Here we are. Welcome to Radix, Citadel for Supernatural Learning. Or, as the students more commonly refer to it, ‘The Root.’ ”

I dropped my bag and craned my head to take in the sights before me. The grounds were lush and pristine with vibrant green grass forming cushy mounds between flowerbeds overflowing with blooms. Bountiful vines of ivy grew up massive stone structures and billowed over arching entryways. The muted natural stone buildings and slate roofs contrasted beautifully with the lush, vivid gardens and the brilliant blue sky.

When we left my apartment building it was a temperate Southern May morning. It seemed to be about the same in Thayer. I made a mental note to ask Gresham if the temperatures here varied with geography, as they did in my world.

“Shall we?” Gresham extended his elbow, like I was Scarlett to his Rhett and should curtsy and take his arm.

“Did we go back in time, too, or just a parallel universe?”

I regretted the comment as soon as it left my mouth. It sounded way snarkier coming out than it did in my head, and Gresham’s disappointed expression left me feeling like a real asshole.

“I think you’ll find many things different in Thayer,” he said. “The employment of simple graciousness and self-censorship are among the first two I hope you’ll absorb.”

His fatherly tone stung worse because he was right. I resolved not to be such a shit, but admitted it was going to be a tough row to hoe.

“I’m sorry. I’m nervous. Where to now?”

Gresham scowled, dubious that my regret was sincere.

“Oh, please?” I pleaded. “I really am sorry.” I put the full force of my apology in my eyes and he nodded before moving on smoothly…graciously.

“I thought we’d tour the grounds first. Then perhaps you could meet a few students you’ll be joining…er, the class that begins Monday.”

Gresham’s slip opened doors better left closed. Sure, I was anxious to see this new magical world, but the thought of leaving my home for this one, at least temporarily, was altogether different. What about my mother? My friends? My life? I couldn’t just pick up and leave everything behind. I didn’t know a soul in Thayer. I didn’t know the culture. Hell, I didn’t know if it was safe. I had no idea what the school would be like, or who I really was—that much was clear.

Having just finished college, I had no desire to cram for tests again. And the place looked like it cost a fortune. I could never pay for something like that. These thoughts raced through my head, but my body had gone stiff as death. Gresham sensed my panic and cursed himself beneath his breath.

“I’m sorry. I’ve put the cart before the horse. There’s no pressure to attend Radix. Today is just an introduction into a world that may be yours. Let’s tour the campus and have some lunch.”

Baby steps. Immediate planning only. I knew what he was doing. But it worked and I nodded, put my brave face on, and stepped through the gate separating Radix from the rest of Thayer.

A
fter a tour
of the administration building I learned that Radix was much more than a school for people like me who were learning to develop their inherent abilities. The system was made up of smaller colleges of study, a research and development wing, and a combat school, though it was unclear to me whether magical or hand-to-hand type warfare was taught. There was even a career development institute, and a brig. It was for magical bad boys, I supposed. The property was large enough to accommodate the many buildings, but I never would’ve known by the feel of the homey campus.

Gresham led me toward a building that I had admired earlier. The mammoth yellow-gray stone structure was ‘L,’ shaped, and its large central entrance featured a real-life castle turret. Radix seemed to be built with defensive precautions in mind. The thick stone walls surrounding the campus and the turrets suggested as much.

“This building is just stunning,” I said, bouncing from foot to foot. “What is it?”

I’d been drawn to the building from the moment I saw it. I was dying to go inside, to climb ancient stone stairs, and to view the campus from the medieval perch.

Gresham appeared pleased with my enthusiasm and shot me a mischievous look. He bit down on his lip and raised eyebrows at me in silent dare.

“This formidable structure is one many a Radix Alumnus has called home. Sabre Hall is the residential facility for most students. Would you like to go inside?”

Gresham was so strikingly handsome and I was so giddy with excitement that I very nearly grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him close enough to bite that lip myself.

Wait, what?

I took a deep breath. Concentrated on calming down. My senses had obviously been overcome with the revelation of a new world, of this spectacular institution, of a new perspective. The excitement of it all had gotten to me. I had to keep a level head about me so I could make an informed, rational decision.

Oh, to hell with it.

I giggled and nearly ran toward the turreted entrance, noticing for the first time the heavenly scent of honeysuckle-type vine draped over the wide wooden doors.

As I tried to swing the heavy door inward, I met complete resistance. I looked for a door pull instead, but found none. With hands on my hips I stepped back and shook my head, puzzled at just how I was supposed to enter Sabre Hall.

I heard Gresham give a little chuckle and swung around to see what was so funny.

“Allow me.” He rested his hand on the dark-colored wood and it silently drifted open.

“It’s bespelled,” he said. “Only Sabre Hall residents can enter, though as your…advisor of sorts, I have access.”

Stepping across the threshold into Sabre Hall was like stepping into another time. My eyes were immediately drawn to the vertical expanse of the grand hall. It was at least four stories high and ovular in shape. Each floor had a gleaming oak balustrade that provided a connection to the grand hall. The feel was inclusive, open.

Centuries-old oil portraits lined the walls, as did brilliant landscapes and even some mythical-looking creatures, beautiful in their fearsomeness.

As I silently walked the perimeter of the room, absorbing the old world ambiance and falling in love with the architecture, the art, and even the oriental rugs, I stopped at one cracked and weathered painting. Something about the creature depicted mesmerized me. It was in mid-chase, its powerful front legs digging into the ground for traction as its back legs extended behind as if preparing to push into another potent stride. Though it was running across the canvas, its head was turned so that the full weight of its menacing gaze jumped off of the painting. I stepped back and lay a hand across my chest. Those eyes. So fearsome, so violent, so intelligent. A wolf. A massive, beautiful black wolf that must have existed lifetimes ago, as evidenced by the antique frame and cracked paint.

“These paintings…this place is magical. I’m afraid I got lost in the moment.” I struggled to peel my gaze from the painting, and turned to Gresham, who still stood behind me.

“I’m glad you like it here. It suits you, I think. Would you like to…”

Whatever he said I didn’t hear because behind him, where no one had been before, the Sabre Grand Hall had begun to bustle with life.

At first I noticed people who looked like me. They hauled luggage, boxes, tiny refrigerators. Others talked and laughed. The harder I looked, though, the more my brain processed what I was seeing.

The people looked like me, but not like me. A girl closest to me gave a whole new meaning to ‘doe eyed.’ She really, truly, had eyes like a deer. Large and black, they were framed by long, straight lashes, and she blinked in excess. The most stunning thing about her, though, was her ears. The velvety pointed things protruded from her head maybe four inches. Cute little tiny ears the same color as her dark honey hair twitched as though she were picking up and assessing every sound in the hall. And maybe she was. She caught me staring and I tried quickly, though I suspected unconvincingly, to smile and appear polite. She smiled back, gave me a quick blink and nodded her head in hello.

My gaze snagged on a guy sitting in a dark brown leather club chair moving his fingers over a miniature computer tablet. It was not his ears that caused me to stare, but his feet. Bare, they were long and a brownish green that was unmistakably….amphibian. Spotted and jointed, they made me think “salamander.”

Everywhere I turned, there were both people who I could have passed on the sidewalk back home, and those with foreign body compositions. I felt weak-kneed and needed to sit down. This was obviously what Gresham meant when he said in Thayer people evolved from many origins, not just primates.

Oddly enough, I wasn’t afraid of anyone bustling about the hall, and some were quite scary looking. Rather, I was in awe of the wondrous place and its people. The building was teeming with life. The excitement and the anticipation were almost palpable. It was infectious, and I had a pang of jealousy that the adventure wasn’t mine.

“What are the dorm rooms like?” I asked Gresham, still gawking but trying not to get caught.

“They’re small but comfortable, if memory serves. Single-occupancy. Shared bathrooms. Adequate, I suppose.”

“Hmmm. So I’d have a suite mate. You think she’d be human-looking like me, or someone whose ancestors swam the seas?”

“I have no idea, Stella, but I like hearing you talk like this.” His smile was as wolf-like as the painting I’d admired.

“Oh, I’m just dreaming, Gresham, don’t look so pleased with yourself. One thing I’ve been wondering, though. Do all these people get along, or does…not racism…specie-ism exist here? Is that a word?”

He started to answer, but I cut him off. “My god, this place is fascinating. Let’s see the rest of it.” Feeling more and more at ease, I took the lead, heading in the direction that people seemed to be coming and going.

“Do you like espresso? That’s where you are headed. There’s a bar through those doors. Coffee during the day and a full bar at night.”

“Are you freaking kidding me? A dorm with a bar? Pinch me now.”

“It isn’t a dorm. It’s a residence hall for adult students. We’re all adults here.”

“What do you mean? What’s the difference?”

“Well, no one cares whether or not you sneak boys into your room for one thing. For another, no one is monitoring your alcohol consumption. Forgive me for being indelicate, but you can close the place down and take home the bartender, and no one will care.”

It was definitely my kind of place. How great to have some beers with your friends and stumble upstairs? Then back down for your morning caffeine needs.

“Forgive me for being indelicate…’” I mimicked playfully. “Lighten up, Gresham. You’re not going to scandalize me, I assure you.”

“If you knew me better, you wouldn’t make such foolish declarations. I could scandalize you with one smack of your pink ass.”

My lips parted with shock and I stared numbly before muttering, “Touché, Gresham…touché.”

We pushed through a pair of ancient oak doors and stepped into an old-fashioned gentlemen’s club. The room’s comfortable warmth permeated my senses at once. Lit only by sparse sconces and art lights to display more paintings, the room’s feature was a crackling fireplace big enough to walk through. Supple leather chairs and booths were spaced around the fireplace, as were over-sized ottomans better suited as seats than for feet. Dark wood wainscoting met sophisticated gray paint. I followed the walls up, and saw crown molding with detail beyond any I’d seen in my provincial upbringing. The whole place screamed privilege and class and I should have felt out of my element. But I didn’t. Surrounded by the fire’s warmth and the faint aromas of smoke and hops I felt at home.

Opposite the fireplace was a stunning carved-wood bar. The panels, the columns, the top were all sculpted into an enormous dragon inlaid with precious stones. Intelligent emerald eyes loomed beneath the dragon’s heavy brow. A fierce scaly tail ornate with rubies seemed to whip from pillars at the bar’s flanks.

In addition to the dragon, gnomes and demure-looking fairies were carved in the panels. The creatures’ faces were so life-like that I reached out to touch them. I lay fingers on the cheek of a particularly desolate-looking fairy and ran the pad of my thumb across the line of her brow. Her eyes were too large for her face to be a human. She looked childlike, but those eyes were the mature, knowing eyes of a woman. Not just a woman; a woman who had known pain. There was a hopelessness to her that made my heart ache. It was a remarkable rendering and I had never seen such poignant artistry. I felt raw, emotional. I wanted a glass of wine, not coffee.

“S’more than woodwork, Jeenjah, it tells a story, ken?”

“Wha?” I looked around for the speaker.

“This bar gives a face to history, though a pretty history tis’nt.”

I looked up, blinking, to see who owned that voice, and realized with a jerk that he had been so bold as to call me “Ginger,” a moniker I wasn’t especially fond of.

The bartender lifted a horizontally-latched portion of the bar up and made his way inside. He was taller than me, but not by much. His fine, sandy blond hair tossed about his head with a carelessness also found in his dress. His linen shirt was un-tucked and fell over khaki shorts. I couldn’t see his feet, but my guess was worn boat shoes with no laces.

“Welcome. Folks call me Knox. I run this place. Can I get ya somethin’?” His voice held something like a Scottish burr—ken I git yeh soompthin.

“Stella. I’m Stella. What story do the carvings tell?”

“A sad story. And a true one. A long time ago, a ruthless sorcerer desired more power, more land…he wanted to rule Thayer and to harness the power of its people. ’Twas widely known then, as it is now, that the gnomes and fairies hold the keys to nature, to crops and harvests, and even to the seasons. The sorcerer believed if he controlled Thayer’s flora and climate he could starve out our people, our rulers, and overtake our lands. He viciously attacked the gnomes and fairies. He ferreted out all he could find using dragons to set fire to the forests and fields they called home. He killed so many…so many.”