The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons (28 page)

“Hey,” she said, rising from the couch where she’d been sitting, and lifting her chin. “I’m a professional Guardian, thank you, recognized and duly authorized by the Guardians’ Guild. I am not a troublemaker.”

Kostich shot her a potent look that had her sitting back down.

“You’re the only one who has the ability to figure out what’s going on with my magic,” I said, counting on the challenge of my situation to offset his reluctance to get involved.

He glared at me for the count of seventeen, then with an annoyed noise, sat at his desk and gestured toward Jim. “Have the demon shift.”

“Effrijim, I command thee to take thy preferred form,” Aisling said, sitting on the edge of her seat as Jim stood and looked to her for instruction.

The human form shimmered and compacted itself down into that of a shaggy black dog. Dr. Kostich watched with steepled fingers, narrowed eyes, and a sense of intensity that I knew meant he was focusing his full attention on the problem.

“I get to stay like this for anywhere from a few seconds to a minute or two,” Jim said, and sure enough, as soon as it spoke, the form shimmered again and returned to the human version.

Kostich’s eyes narrowed even further as he rubbed his chin. “Again,” he commanded.

Aisling and Jim obliged.

“Do you want to know what spell I used?” I asked when Jim was once again shifted back.

“The spell is immaterial,” he answered dismissively, gesturing toward a penholder on his desk. “Change that pen to a vase of flowers.”

“All right.” I focused my energy, recited the most basic of transmutation spells, and watched with resignation as the pen, rather than re-forming its matter to that of the requested vase of flowers, turned into a bowl of spaghetti.

“Lunch!” Jim said with a brightening of its face.

“It’s like my magic is all backward. It’s been that way ever since you put the interdiction on me, only now it seems to be—”

We all stared in surprise as the bowl morphed into a pigeon that blinked back at us.

“—worsening,” I finished as the pigeon flicked its tail and pooped on Dr. Kostich’s papers.

He closed his eyes for a moment, his gaunt face reflecting patience that had worn thin. “You are sundren.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sundren. It is an archaic term, but it aptly describes the relationship between mages and their powers when they have ill used them.”

“Me? I haven’t ill used anything.” The pigeon squawked and changed into a small marble statue of Hermes. “Well, not much. How did I hurt my magic?”

“You are a dragon.” He held up a hand to stop my protest. “You appear human, yes, but you are not. You have yourself admitted that your current form harbors that of your previous being, and it is that which has caused the sunder between your magic and your being. This manifests itself in the misfirings that you see.”

“Great. I’m a misfiring?” Jim looked pathetically at me. “Can you refire me, please?”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Aisling said, looking puzzled. “We all saw the vision where the First Dragon resurrected Ysolde. She’s been human ever since then, which means if she was sundren before, it would have shown up then, wouldn’t it?”

“She was sundren, yes, but the division wasn’t as pronounced as it is now that her dragon being has begun to awaken. Before the attack by her immense mate on the house of the green wyvern, her magic was simply ineffectual. Now the sundering has increased, causing the effects you see.”

We all looked at the statue as it disappeared into nothing.

Dr. Kostich sighed. “And now I have lost a favored pen.”

“OK, I changed my mind,” Jim said, backing away from me. “I don’t want you to try to give me back my magnificent form.”

“Is there nothing I can do?” I asked Kostich, my heart heavy with sorrow at the thought of losing such an integral part of my being, not to mention leaving Jim in a form it detested. “Can’t you help me?”

“With the sundering? No.” His gaze shifted to Jim, his expression sour. “I can, however, act as a focal point for your magic to change the demon back to its canine form, not that I understand why it wishes to do so. But there is a cost.”

“I have a credit card,” Aisling said, reaching for her purse.

“No, this one’s on me,” I said, doing the same.

“Not that sort of a cost,” Kostich interrupted, giving us both a disgusted look. “There is a cost to your attunement with arcane magic to have another act as your focal point. That is why it is forbidden in the Magister’s Guild. In effect, you are allowing another mage to use your power, and arcane magic does not like being used in such a manner. So long as you are aware of the risks associated with such an act, we can proceed.”

“What risks, exactly?” I asked, my stomach tight with nerves.

“Oh, man, I’m going to lose more toes. I just know it,” Jim moaned. Aisling smacked it on the arm again.

Dr. Kostich shrugged. “You will not know until you try.”

“You make it sound like arcane magic is . . . well . . . sentient,” Aisling said.

“You were proscribed. You have felt the opposite of arcane magic. Would you say the dark power was sentient?”

“Oh, yes,” she said with a shudder. “Although I didn’t realize that at first. I thought someone was using it to get to me.”

“Someone was,” he said dismissively, getting to his feet. “Are you willing to try, Tully Sullivan?”

I flinched at the sting that accompanied my name. “Yes. I owe it to Jim. So long as you’re sure that with you focusing the magic, Jim will be changed back.”

“My powers have not yet begun to diminish,” was all he said as he gestured me toward him, placing his cold fingers at the base of my neck. “Proceed.”

I closed my eyes and turned east, beginning the call to quarters. “Air surrounds thee.”

Dr. Kostich, his fingers still on the back of my neck, turned with me as I faced south. “Fire fills thee.”

“Oh, great, this is the one that left me naked before,” Jim complained. “Ash, you better have a blanket handy just in case.”

“Quiet, demonic one,” she snapped.

Kostich and I turned north, then west. “Earth nourishes thee. Water gives life to thee.”

I faced Jim again, opening my eyes and pulling as hard as I could on Baltic’s fire. “Demon in birth, demon in being, by the grace within me, I release thee from thy form.”

For a second, nothing happened. Jim stood with a frightened expression on its face; then the same rushing sensation of power flowed over and through and inside me, wiping out everything I had been and would ever be, before ebbing away to an abyss of emptiness.

 

The man looked at me with an expression of mingled annoyance and patience. “You are making a habit of this, daughter of light.”

I sat up, eyeing him. He looked familiar somehow, his eyes infinitely wise, his face that of a man, and yet there was a sense of something other about him.

“Are you here to see my father?” I asked, confused about who he was. I glanced quickly around the room, startled to find other people present, a man and woman in strange clothing and a large black dog, all three of whom were staring at me with expressions of stark disbelief. “I’ll fetch him for you. I think it’s him you wish to see, my lord . . . er . . . I’m sorry, but I seem to have lost my wits this morning, and don’t believe I was told a mage was coming to see my father. What is your name, sir?”

“I am not a visiting mage,” the odd man said, holding out his hand to me. I took it and rose to my feet, the world spinning for a few seconds before it settled down. “You are important to me, daughter, but I cannot keep rescuing you. You must find your own path, and not rely upon me to help you again.”

I put my hand to my head, my brain swimming at both his words and the strange surroundings in which I found myself.

“Fires of Abaddon,” someone said. “Has she, like, reverted to her old self?”

“Hush, Jim. Um . . . Mr. First Dragon?” The woman, dressed in an odd shortened tunic and leggings, gave a little wave to the man who still held my hand. “I know Ysolde has a bunch of questions about what you want her to do, and since she seems to be a little out of it, I thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I asked them.”

The man cast a glance at her, repeating, “She must make her own path.”

“Yes, but—”

“A life was given for yours once, daughter. Do not repay that debt with failure.”

My mouth dropped open as the man shimmered with a bright silver light, as if he was suddenly made up of a thousand raindrops shining in the sun, the drops glittering brightly before dissolving into nothingness.

“By the rood!” I gasped, waving my hand through the air that had just held the man. “I must tell Papa about that! Even he can’t turn himself into light drops!”

“I would find this tedious except for my interest in elemental beings such as the dragon ancestor,” the tall, thin man with washed-out blue eyes said. I didn’t like him. He eyed me as if I were a bucket of slops. “Now that he is gone, however, the charm of the situation fails to engage me. Aisling Grey, please remove my former apprentice.”

“You can’t just throw her out like that!” the woman said, rounding on the man. Her, I liked. “She was just killed a few minutes ago! Killed because of
your
magic, I’d like to point out!”

“Someone was killed?” I asked, looking around, feeling more than a little dizzy, but if there was a body lying around, I wanted to see it. I’ve always had a ghoulish fascination with them, much to my mother’s dismay. “Who?”

“You,” a man’s voice said, and my jaw dropped again when I realized it came from the big black dog.

“Me?” I squeezed my arm. It felt solid enough.

“Yup. You dropped like a sack of anvils. Then the First Dragon made his grand entrance, waved his hands around, and blammo! You were alive again.”

“The First Dragon . . .” There was something about that name, some memory that tugged on the edge of my awareness.

The woman and man had been arguing while the dog talked to me. I wondered for a moment if I had gone moon-mad, but decided that if I had, it didn’t matter if I talked to dogs, so I asked it, “Who are you?”

“Boy, you really are out of it, aren’t you. You don’t remember anything? Baltic’s going to go bonkers if you’ve lost your memory again.”

I frowned, searching my mind. There were many fleeting shadows of memories that moved so quickly I was unable to pin them down. “No, I . . . there’s something . . . a man, I think. He’s . . .”

“Fine!” the woman yelled, taking me by the arms and steering me toward a door. “But if Baltic wants to know why Ysolde is all wonky from being resurrected a second time, I’m going to be sure to tell him it’s your fault.”

The man snarled a curse as I was hustled out of the room, down a short hallway, and out another door into a corridor filled with doors.

Something about the surroundings struck a familiar note as well. “I think I’ve seen this before,” I said, pointing at the wall as the woman and the dog herded me into a small metal room. I touched the wall of it, lurching when the floor moved beneath me. “This is a . . . a . . .”

“Oh, man, I hope you get your memory back soon, or Baltic really
will
have a hissy fit,” the woman said.

I looked at her as she pulled me backward out of the small room and into a big, bright hall.

“Not hall,” I corrected myself as I looked around. “Lobby. Hotel lobby.” The world seemed to resolve itself before my eyes, as if it was slowly being brought into focus.

“Thank god,” Aisling said as she and Jim pushed me into a large off-white chair.

“Aisling!” I said with delight. “I know who you are! And Jim!”

She gave me a crooked smile, then gestured to a waiter and demanded coffee. “Whew. You gave us quite a fright there. I was trying to figure out how to tell Baltic that we killed you changing Jim back, and then the First Dragon was suddenly there, and . . . well, I’m just glad your brain is back, too.”

I frowned as she began her sentence, but by the time she was done, I had pulled together enough of my wits to respond. “The spell killed me?”

“I don’t think so. Kostich said it was the backlash of arcane magic that was suddenly released when Jim was changed back into Newfie form. You lit up like a Christmas tree for a minute, then collapsed. We’d just figured out you were dead when pop! The First Dragon was there, calling your name, and bringing you back.” Aisling gazed at me with a kind of amazement. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone being resurrected twice, especially not by the First Dragon. Drake says he hasn’t made an appearance for centuries, not until May saw him when she re-formed the dragon heart. It’s obvious you have some sort of a tie with him.”

I took a deep breath, grateful to feel air filling my lungs. “Well, I’m not going to complain, since I’m alive. I can only imagine what Baltic—” Horror made the skin on my neck crawl as realization struck me. “Oh, dear god! Baltic! He must have felt me die!”

Frantically, I searched my pockets for my cell phone, but found nothing.

“Oh, geez. I didn’t think of that. Your phone got blasted with the explosion of light. Here, take mine,” Aisling said, shoving her phone at me.

My fingers shook as I punched in the phone number, remembering well the promise in Baltic’s voice when he swore he would not live without me.

“Were you dead long enough to kill him?” Aisling asked, adding a hellish nightmare tinge to an already overwhelming sense of panic.

“Please answer, please answer,” I chanted as the phone rang. Tears filled my eyes as I blocked the need to examine the worst-case scenario. “Please, Baltic, please—”

A wordless snarl of anguish answered the phone.

“Baltic!” I yelled into it.

“Ysolde?” Heavy breathing was all that met my ears for a few seconds. “Christos! What are you doing to me? Where are you? Why did it feel as if my heart was ripped out anew? What have you done?”