B00B15Z1P2 EBOK Page 2

  Mik looked at her, nearly losing himself in her wide eyes, and wondered how he’d missed noticing how pretty she was outside. He fumbled, trying to decide which question to answer first, as his host turned. Before he could recover, they entered a cozy common room. A warm fire and benches awaited. “Please, seat yourself,” the sorcerer invited. The way he watched Mik told him the sorcerer was not blind, as he thought at first. “Would you like some tea? Yes? Sura, bring the pot and cups for the three of us.” Mik was given the bench closest to the fire; he soon shed his outerwear.

  “Oh, I brought cakes,” said Mik, removing them from his pack. “Maybe they’ll go well with the tea.”

  “Indeed. And here’s Sura with the tea.”

  With a cup warming his hands, Mik and his hosts faced each other around a low table, Mik’s back to the fire. Sura unwrapped and tasted a cake, then smiled. “Very good!”

  “Excellent,” said the sorcerer. “Now, young dragonrider, why don’t you tell us your story?”

  Mik told them everything, and found the reactions interesting: the sorcerer looked solemn, while the apprentice tried not to laugh. She had a pretty smile though, and watching her looking at him blunted the sting.

  “Very fortunate,” Bailar said at last. “Awakening an ice dragon, and living to tell about it. A rare thing, the first, and the second even more so. One wrong word, and it would have crushed you before wreaking havoc on both armies.

  “But know this—you brought it awake, and thus you can dispel it. I may be able to help.” He stood. “I will consult the records, to see if they have anything to say. Sura can show you our guest room and the more important part of the house… the kitchen!” He left them, with that slow, careful gait that Mik had noted earlier.

  Mik and Sura looked at each other. “Come on,” she said, “I’ll show you around.” She stacked the cakes on her platter and brought them along. She led him first to the guest room, where he left his pack; then to the kitchen, where she constructed a plate of bread, meats, and cheeses with easy familiarity.

  “Got in over your head?” she said at last, with a low chuckle, placing several cakes and another pot of tea on the tray.

  Mik was embarrassed, but girls this pretty had never talked to him this much before. He gave her a glum smile. “I’m glad someone finds it amusing,” he grumbled.

  The tray looked heavy, but Sura lifted it with ease. “I’m sorry, Mik. It’s just that… you’re not the only one that’s happened to.” She gave him a serious look. “Let’s take this back to the common room, and I’ll tell you my story.”

  • • •

  Bailar looked at the runes, clear and strong in the ash. Sun. Fire. Water. Sun again. Air. Another Sun. Air and Water again. Chaos and Fate, a rare combination. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” he mused, looking over the patterns. “Anyone riding an ice dragon, let alone an untrained child, must be an incredible Talent.” Sun runes represented magic, and to see three of them? Sura was a strong Talent herself, but his augury over her, so long ago, gave Sun only twice.

  His library contained records of the Conclave, stretching back six hundred years to the time that Exidy was re-established, and he found what he wanted in the earlier records. “Four hundred fifty years, since anyone tried awakening an Elemental Dragon,” he murmured. “And that one, I see, had the messy result that one would expect.”

  Sura was likely telling Mik her own story. His daughter was clever, and Mik obviously thought her pretty. That could be complicated, but a Talent this strong was worth the risk. So much hinged on the next few hours, but Bailar expected his visitor would pass the tests. The boy obviously had a good heart, and it would lead him right.

  • • •

  Mik, not used to being served, insisted on feeding the fire while Sura poured tea. She moved another bench next to Mik’s, close to the fire, and sipped her tea while he poked the firewood into place. The food tray bridged the gap between their benches.

  “You said you had your own story,” he said at last, taking up his teacup.

  She nodded. “It was near the end of summer,” she said, staring into the fire. “I really made a mess of things…”

  “Will you please sit down?” Bailar sounded amused and exasperated at once. “You’re making me nervous.”

  Sura sat, watching her father eat. Hunger finally overcame nerves, and she took a roll and nibbled.

  “Good,” he said. “Now that you’re still, why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  She sighed. “I was tired from pumping water, and the vat was only half full. You left your staff there in the basement, and I remembered that story in the holy book about how the prophet struck the stone and water came out. So I struck the wall with your staff, and it worked! I was overjoyed at first.

  “Then the vat filled up, but I didn’t know how to stop the water. I should have called for help before there was six inches of water in the basement, I know.”

  Bailar nodded. “Indeed, but that was your final mistake. What was your first?”

  Sura laughed. “That’s easy. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place!”

  “Exactly! That’s known as the Principle of Necessity. Magic calls on powers greater than ourselves, and those powers are not to be used lightly. That’s why we have apprentices, to do the work not worthy of magic.” He grinned. “So you struck the wall and got water. Why do you think it worked?”

  “Your staff. I used your staff.”

  Bailer shook his head. “It’s only a stick. It helps me keep my balance. It worked because you have the Talent for magic, like others have a talent for music or weapons.”

  Sura looked astounded. “What?”

  “Of course. That’s the Principle of Power, or some call it the Principle of Intent. Most people wouldn’t have drawn water. You wouldn’t have either, if you just struck the wall without that intent. I knew the Talent was there—I read it in the ashes, the day I found an infant girl on my doorstep. But like any other talent, you can spend a lifetime developing it. If you want, you can learn to be a sorcerer. I’ll teach you all I can.”

  “But—of course—what else would I do?”

  “Many things. Any sensible innkeeper would put you in charge of his kitchen, for example. You know the old saw: A sorcerer or king may be thrown aside, but a good scribe or cook may always abide. You could be either one.”

  Mik looked at the tray. “You made all this? It’s wonderful! Do you use magic to make it taste that good?”

  “No, no magic. But Father says he’s eaten in the best houses of Exidy, and even the palace in Queensport, and never dined better than any evening here at home.” Sura smiled at the floor.

  “Maybe there’s other kinds of magic.”

  She blushed. “Maybe. I’d like the recipe for that cake you brought, though. It’s better than mine. But magic is a lot like cooking. You start by following recipes, then you learn to create your own. How the spell for awakening an ice dragon became a children’s rhyme, though…”

  Mik laughed. “Well, I’ve eaten most of this tray. But if what matters is talent, why all the chanting? Why the hand-waving and wands and things?”

  “Folk—those who are not sorcerers—expect it. And it can help you focus. The chants are good for remembering spells, too.” Sura tore open a roll, stuffed meat and cheese inside it, then took a bite. “But there’s one more thing…”

  Bailar put down his roll. “But let’s pretend for a moment that it was necessary for you to perform that spell. What else should you have known?”

  Sura thought a minute. “Um… how to make it stop?”

  “Indeed. A spell begun must be ended. That we call the Principle of Closure.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Of course it does. And now you have had your first lesson in sorcery. Spells can go awry, even strictly following the Principles, but when they are ignored something nearly always goes wrong.” He began to laugh. “For example, your mentor can find you ankle-deep in wate
r, shrieking like a banshee, desperately trying to hold back a torrent—pouring—from a wall…” He put his face on the table and shook with laughter.

  Mik stifled most of his own laughter. “I can see it! I’ll bet that was a mess to clean up!”

  “Oh, it was. I learned a lot that day. Kind of like you.”

  “So, being a sorcerer… it’s something you were born with?”

  “And you as well.” Bailar appeared in the doorway, making Mik jump. “I rather hoped Sura would tell you her story. Perhaps now you understand your own predicament a little better.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then, can you can tell me how the Three Principles apply to you?”

  Mik thought a moment. “I think it was necessary to awaken the ice dragon. The invaders from Westmarch had overrun the Two Rivers district, and they would have overrun us once they crossed the Laughing River. I wasn’t aware that I need Talent to do what I did, I thought anyone could have done it. As for the Third Principle, I thought—no, I didn’t think at all. I suppose I thought the dragon would go away on its own once its work was done. It would be poor thanks to let it die, even if it hadn’t threatened me, so I came to you.”

  Bailar nodded. “Your good heart has protected you from the wrath of the ice dragon, so far. Whether it can protect you from the world at large, I know not. I believe I know what you must do, though.” But he only stood, leaning slightly against the doorway, and watched Mik.

  Mik looked back at the sorcerer. “Well?” he said at last. “What do I need to do?”

  Bailar smiled. “You yourself have told me the answer.” He held up a placating hand. “I do not speak in riddles to confuse or torment you, young dragonrider. I want you to come to the understanding on your own, if you can. Thinking is both blessing and curse, but to a sorcerer it is survival. So think about what you did to awaken the dragon, and consider the Principle of Closure.”

  Mik nodded and stared at the fire, feeling the gazes of the sorcerer and his apprentice upon him. “I used my blood to awaken the dragon…” He grew silent for a moment, thinking about the dragon demanding to be dispelled, then seeing those faint pinkish spots as he mounted—he shook himself and jumped up, whirling to face them. “I know!”

  They stepped outside into the swirling snow, and the dragon raised its head. You have learned how to dispel me?

  “Yes. Will you meet us at the river, below this place?”

  I will wait for you there, and the dragon leaped over the edge of the bluff. Bailar led Mik and Sura along a path, seen only by the lack of trees in the way, down the bluff to the river.

  As they went, Mik noticed Sura hugging herself and making fff fff noises. He wondered for a moment why the sorcerer had not provided them with warmth or rapid transport down the bluff, then remembered Principle of Necessity. “Here,” he said, taking off his cloak and wrapping it around Sura’s shoulders.

  “Don’t you need it?” she asked, but pulled it tight around her.

  Mik shook his head. “It helped when I was on the dragon, but my jacket is enough for walking. You need this more than I do.”

  She took his arm, and took her time letting go, warming Mik more than the cloak. “Thank you,” she said. He grinned as they followed Bailar side by side. It was a slow walk; Bailar kept to one side of the path, probing the snow ahead with his staff and holding trees or sturdy limbs. “His balance isn’t good,” she whispered, nodding ahead to her father and mentor. “If he trips, he’ll fall.”

  The dragon had not curled up to await them, it instead had stomped out a wide flat area and stood waiting. If it were human, Mik thought, I’d think it was nervous. Or eager. “You’ll want to be on the river ice, right?” he asked it. “Will you return to the size you were when I awakened you?”

  Yes. And yes. But the dragon curled up, becoming a mound of snow on the flat… then emerged, its original size, from the bottom of the mound. It tested the edge of the river ice then lay on it, stretching on its side, appearing satisfied. The big pink spots were now seven small red spots, Mik’s blood.

  Mik made his careful way to the edge, then removed his gloves. “And… and thank you for your help. And everything.”

  Dispelling me is thanks enough, it said, as Mik placed his hands over the red spots. But hold to your humility and gratitude. They will serve you well.

  Mik nodded, feeling his hands grow numb, then wiped the melted snow away. And with his blood removed, the dragon sank into the river ice, becoming a pattern of bones once again.

  “Well done, young dragonrider,” Bailar smiled as Mik rubbed his hands together than jammed them inside his jacket. He noticed Sura nodding and smiling as well, wrapped in his cloak, and their approval warmed him.

  Yet he remembered his manners. “Thank you, sir.” He sketched a bow, then snatched his gloves out of the snow and put them on again.

  Bailar nodded. “You traveled a long way for my advice, and now you have dispelled your transport,” he said. “Did you give any thought to how you would return home?”

  Mik shrugged. “I did what I had to. I suppose I shall find a room in Exidy until spring. One where they will let me work for my bread and board.”

  “You have no apprenticeship to consider?”

  “No, sir. In Lacota—my town—I would have been chosen at the equinox.”

  “Well, then. There is no law that says I cannot have two apprentices, and you have proven yourself worthy. Sorcerers are becoming rare in these ‘enlightened’ times, and sometimes the world still has need of us. We can send word to your family, perhaps visit them when time and weather permit. What say you?”

  Bailar let fly a snowy owl, carrying Mik’s message and request for the cake recipe, then they all retreated to the warmth of the common room. Sura stood in front of the fire, spreading Mik’s cloak wide to catch and trap the heat, as Mik finished warming his hands on a full teacup. But the walk up the bluff had kept them near warm enough, and Sura soon shed the cloak and sat on a bench.

  “Your training starts in the morning, Mik Dragonrider,” said Bailar. “I will enter your name in the records tonight. Get some sleep, you’ll be up early tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir,” but Bailar had already left. Mik watched Sura watch the fire, then pulled a bench next to hers and sat.

  “What will it be like?” he asked her.

  “Like school,” she said. “You’ll be studying, and practicing, and… well, you’ll see.”

  Mik laughed. “Was it really just this morning? Robi said next month, we’d be done with school forever.”

  “Who’s Robi?” Sura looked apprehensive.

  “Oh. She and her boyfriend are my best friends. She was there when I awakened the dragon. Piet wouldn’t believe us, until he saw it himself.”

  They laughed, then looked at each other. Her eyes shone in the firelight… or was it firelight? Without thinking, Mik reached out and put an arm around her. Sura slid against him, and they watched the fire together.

  “I was right,” he said.

  “What?”

  Mik grinned. “There are other kinds of magic.”

  Chapter 2 - Dragon Rider

  Sura glowed. Mik’s mind knew it was sunlight angling through the trees, only beginning their springtime awakening, but his heart agreed with his eyes. His love and fellow apprentice twirled in the sunbeam, humming an odd tune, until she stumbled and fell. Mik cried out and ran to her, kneeling in the cool leaves.

  “I’m all right,” she said. “I just got dizzy.”

  “Where did you learn that dance?”

  “A troupe from the Northern Reach came downriver last summer. They danced and played music in town. Some of the women did this dance, but they had long ribbons that wrapped around them as they turned. I don’t know how they did it without falling down!”

  Mik smiled. “Are you sure you’re all right?” She nodded. “Good.” He embraced her, she embraced him, and nothing more was said for several minutes.

  At last, Sura
nudged him. “We can’t be too long,” she whispered. “We need to gather the herbs.”

  Mik sighed, but knew she was right. He stood and helped her to her feet, although she needed no help, and they began walking. “What are we looking for again? I was only half-paying attention.” The woods were quiet. Patches of snow stood in shaded places and there was still a nip in the air.

  “You need to focus.”

  “I know. But it was hard, knowing we’d be out here by ourselves!”

  “Remember what Father said? Focus on the primary goal, and the rest will come.” Sura laughed and produced the list. “We probably won’t find all of them right away, but these are what we need.”

  Mik looked at the list, written in Sura’s clear, compact hand, and pointed at one of the items. “Kingsalve? That’s a healing plant, right?”

  “It has magical properties, too.”

  “Oh. Right. I’ve been studying herbs so much, it all runs together after a while.”

  Sura took his hand. “I guess Father wanted you to be ready for spring. The first plants to come up in spring are the strongest—”

  “I remember: because they have the powers of all four elements.”

  “See?” She squeezed his hand. “You remember some of it, anyway.”

  “Isn’t that flameweed?” Mik pointed at a patch of bright red, off to one side. “We call it ‘poor man’s pepper’ at home, but everybody uses it in spring until the traders come. It’s coming up a little early this year.”