Dragon Magic Read online

  No good would come of a sudden fascination for a shadow mage who had treachery in his blood as thick and strong as his magic. More than likely, Cemal was overly fascinated because everything else he knew lay dead in the broken Heart.

  Dragon, if he thought about it too long, he might lose his mind.

  As Binhadi joined them on the lower deck, Cemal asked, "What did the good captain have to say?"

  "Not much," Binhadi replied. "I was able to secure supplies for our journey; they are being gathered and prepared for us now." Only then did Cemal notice Binhadi's beautiful gold and jewel belt was gone—a fortune that would have paid for all the supplies they were going to take thrice over. He still wore his jeweled earrings, though. Perhaps he was saving them for later. "I have also been given a ring that will guarantee us room and board wherever we go." He held out his hand to display the ring, simple heavy gold with the royal signet in gleaming onyx. "I also obtained a map, a small amount of coin, and camping supplies. Also tokens for horses once we arrive at the Monastery, because I for one am not walking the width and breadth of this country."

  Sule snorted. "Agreed."

  "Do we push on to His Majesty?" Cemal asked. "Or should we focus on the fearmonger? If Mahzan is correct about it having come from—and likely returned to—the Red Forest Mountains, then we have a long journey ahead of us."

  Binhadi shook his head. "I think we should first go see the king, in case he has information that would be useful to us, and unless he orders otherwise, we should then go after those who are most likely responsible for summoning the fearmonger: Prince Seda. His dukes are no doubt caught up in it, especially if Mahzan's theory of their being Oathbound is correct, but Seda is undoubtedly in charge. If we take care of him, we'll take care of them all."

  "That means heading north all the way to Lirana's Point." Mahzan's eyebrows shot up. "That's even further than the Red Forest, months away even with horses."

  "Which is why we should go straight to the likeliest source, rather than hunting for a single fearmonger when they will simply summon others," Binhadi replied calmly. "Focusing on the fearmonger will do nothing except waste weeks, even months, of time."

  "We're going to be at this for months no matter what we do, so we should be on our way," Sule said, as soldiers approached with the last of their supplies packed into two knapsacks. Taking one, Sule settled it on his shoulders and buckled it around his waist. Cemal took the other, pleased that it was packed correctly and not unreasonably heavy.

  Bidding the soldiers farewell, he followed the others off the ship, down the pier, and into the looming forest. They walked in silence for some time, spread out along a path only just wide enough for a small wagon.

  "I am surprised you have no bawdy travel songs, Mahzan," Cemal said, when it seemed no one else would break the silence.

  Mahzan laughed, though the sound wasn't terribly happy. "I know several, actually. How bawdy do you want it?"

  "I was rather enjoying the silence," Sule interjected, shooting Mahzan a warning look. Did Sule not realize saying such a thing would only provoke Mahzan? He must be sharp enough to know that, if he had made it to North Captain at so young an age.

  Provoked, Mahzan began to sing a bawdy version of a common army marching song, the sort that Sule would sing with his men during drills each morning. The look Sule gave Mahzan then could only be described as pure loathing. Cemal rolled his eyes.

  "Should I stop them?" Binhadi asked, voice low and laced with the barest hint of amusement. "I am beginning to think I should just let them maim each other. Or fuck. Whichever they get to first."

  Snickering, Cemal replied, "Sometimes the only way to deal with a problem is to leave fools to their folly. My mother often yelled at me when I was a little boy not to put my hand in the fire. I would not heed her warnings, or the innumerable times she slapped my hands with her cooking spoon. Finally, one day, she let me be. I was very smug in my triumph. I cried for hours from the way my hand burned and would not stop hurting. But I never again tried to put my hand in the fire."

  Binhadi's mouth tilted up on one side in a fragile half-smile. "It was wine, for me. I wanted to drink because at twelve, of course I was an adult and should be allowed to drink like them. My father finally grew fed up and gave me a bottle all my own. I could not finish it, and was sick for hours. I went back to drinking tea and milk."

  Cemal laughed, even as he winced in sympathy. "My first, second, and third time getting drunk, it was on wine. Good wine that should not have been wasted so. I still cannot stand the smell of it. I prefer ale or mead."

  That half-smile appeared again, widened almost to a full smile, and Cemal felt a fleeting pride that he had twice mustered such an expression in Binhadi. "My family has always been snobs, as I am certain everyone knows and has often said. I am afraid, in regards to wine, I am guilty of the same. I drink ale only if I must, and will not touch mead. Try to give me cheap wine, and see how I behave then."

  Cemal smiled and shifted his attention back to the other two, who had stopped singing and glaring and shoving. They were carefully not looking at each other, scowls on their faces—but there was also an angry flush to Sule's cheeks, a grimace of pain on Mahzan's face. "What is wrong with the two of you?"

  When they remained silent, Binhadi said, "I think when Sule finally went to silence him, Mahzan got more of Sule's thoughts than either cared."

  "You are the one who mucked with my powers. I could not read thoughts before you forced the matter!" Mahzan snarled. "I told you this would happen. If I go insane, I will take you with me."

  Binhadi cast him a reproving look. "What's done cannot be undone. Acting like a child about it will not help."

  Cemal quirked a brow. "What do you mean?"

  "The Oath," Binhadi replied. "An Oath does not only allow us to share powers to a degree, it also strengthens our powers. The greater the bond, the greater our powers grow, and the more we share and affect one another." More dryly, he added, "In our case, I'm certain it will only be to a small degree."

  Mahzan shot him a nasty look. "There is no such thing as a small degree when you can read the thoughts and emotions of others."

  Binhadi met his gaze unflinching. "When you stop being petulant and truly master your abilities, you will not be so burdened by them."

  "Dragon eat you!" Mahzan snapped. "Emotion reading was bad enough. I never wanted thoughts, and only someone who has never been so privy to the minds of others would say it will stop being a burden!"

  Cemal frowned, taken aback by the outburst. He had little experience with mind mages, it was true, but the few others he'd met had not seemed to hate their powers the way Mahzan did.

  Abruptly Mahzan looked at him, eyes flashing silver. "Most of them aren't me. I'm the kind they used to burn as quickly as possible. Trust me, you do not realize how much you don't want to know until you can't unknow it."

  "I think it would be damned useful to know what someone is thinking. You should be a soldier, or a diplomat. Something useful that would let you use your magic to do some good and help people. Instead you're a fucking jester," Sule said.

  Mahzan rounded on him, "How would you like to know that the people who should be helping you only feel apathy and loathing for you, like it's your fault you're homeless and helpless? How would you like to feel the lust your first teacher feels for you, still a young boy? The contemptuous amusement of your first love, while you try so earnestly to flirt? The hatred of the person smiling and calling you friend? Believe me, you scorched halfwit, there is a world of thought and feeling you never want to know."

  Sule said nothing, lips pressed tightly together—but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and his hand slid away from his sword hilt.

  "I see your point," Cemal said more peaceably. "It's interesting that the King's Jester is a mind mage. Not so long ago, you would have been presumed a danger and jailed."

  "Jailed?" Sule and Mahzan said together, and glared at each other. Sule continued
gruffly, "No, he's right, even only a few decades ago the crown would have ordered him executed, possibly even burned depending on who was on the throne. Nobody is twitchier around mind mages than those with power."

  "One of many reasons I do not let it be known," Mahzan said. "I prefer people think I have no magic. I have no intention of being executed or going mad like too many mind mages do. I use my powers to measure the crowds, so I can better tell whether to move to jokes or dancing or whatnot. That's it."

  Binhadi said coolly, "If you want to avoid going mad, you should work harder at mastering your powers. You have the potential—"

  "Fires!" Mahzan shouted, stopping in his tracks and rounding on Binhadi. "I do not a give a damn about my potential! When this mess you have made of us comes to an end, my only plan is to return to my post as the King's Jester." He turned jerkily back around and resumed walking.

  Binhadi said nothing, only lifted his eyes to the sky and resumed his own walking.

  Cemal sighed and fell into step alongside Binhadi. "So if this Oath can wake mind reading in Mahzan, what could it theoretically do for me? The ability to turn my life force into shapes is not terribly impressive, though it has its uses." Not as many as people thought, since his projections literally were made from his own life force, which drained him quickly, but for a man who traveled frequently, it could be useful in a number of small ways.

  Mahzan looked over his shoulder briefly, and replied before Binhadi could speak. "They say a man who can shape his energies can, with sufficient power and will, alter his own shape."

  "What?" Cemal laughed so hard at that, he had to stop walking lest he fall over. "Alter my own shape? Alter it how? Turn myself into a bird?"

  "Among other things." Mahzan frown. "Have you never studied shape shifting?"

  Cemal shook his head. "Of course not—that is myth, if not out and out lies. Not a creature in existence can turn itself into another creature, save the Great Dragon. I've never heard of anything more ridiculous."

  "It's been done, and the accounts are recorded," Mahzan said, frown turning into a scowl. "Am I the only one of us who has actually studied magic? I am the street rat turned royal fool; you are the ones with all the access and money, and one of you advises the king. Typical!"

  Sule rolled his eyes. "I will believe Cemal can change his shape the day I believe you can stop behaving like a melodramatic halfwit."

  "A soldier with fire magic and the temper to match has some nerve calling me melodramatic," Mahzan retorted. "At least it is my job to be so."

  Binhadi sighed and pressed fingers to his temples. "Children, if you please. You are both, to run with the theme, quite fiery of temper. I know you can control yourselves, so do it. We will never manage this affair and break the Oath if we spend the entire time bickering. Sule, you especially should watch it, since at some point, your power will increase as well."

  Sule's eyes snapped to him, his temper vanishing abruptly as Binhadi's words registered. "Fire is fire. I have always been capable of controlling it."

  "Right now you are a campfire. In time, you will become an inferno," Binhadi replied. "Never mind that our knowledge could have gaps. We know only what Mahzan and I have studied—which I have extensively, thank you. There is no telling what may have been left out of books. So watch your temper, North Captain."

  Sule nodded. "Yes, my lord."

  "La la la," Cemal said, clucking his tongue. "I thought my situation complicated when I was kidnapped by bandits."

  Sule and Binhadi gave him looks. "How in the world did you survive that?" Sule asked.

  "Bandits?" Cemal scoffed. "I have dealt with far worse than bandits in my time. I'm from the Isles. Do you think coming this far, even traveling as a priest, was easy?" He reached up and touched the amulet around his neck, strung on a leather thong. It was a stone, a square hollowed in the center, rounded at the corners—and broken in five places, held together by metal bands.

  He had once given every coin to his name to buy it for his little sister, a memory stone she had worn for all of two years. More than a decade later, the memory of that night still hurt. He had thought murdering her killer would ease some of his pain, but a year after the deed was done, the pain remained sharp.

  "That is a memory stone," Binhadi said, so surprised, it showed plainly on his face. "It's shattered—who would shatter a memory stone?"

  "Someone who thought breaking it would prevent my ever learning his identity," Cemal said flatly.

  Sule looked at him, too much understanding in his eyes for Cemal's taste. "You found him."

  "Yes," Cemal said, voice going from flat to cold.

  "Good," Sule replied.

  "You do not even know what he did."

  Sule lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "It does not take mind magic to see there is a terrible history behind the breaking of that stone. Anyone who would break such a thing to hide himself probably did something that merited whatever you did to him."

  Cemal released a breath he had not realized he was holding. "He deserved it," he said quietly, remembering the man's surprise, his laughter, his contempt—and his cries of disbelief and pain when Cemal first stabbed him.

  The way he'd died—

  "Stop, stop, stop," Mahzan said. "I hate this Oath. I am beginning to feel all three of you too sharply. Learn to put up walls, or learn to stop thinking and feeling!" He increased his pace, quickly leaving them well behind.

  Binhadi sighed, but only reached beneath his robe and pulled out the memory stone on a thong around his neck. "Mine was gifted to me on the day of my birth. I am sorry yours was broken."

  "It's not mine. It was a gift for… someone else. It scarcely matters now. I have tried and tried to find a mind mage who could extract some trace of the memories it once held and transfer them to a new stone, but none could manage it. They all said it was too broken."

  "Mmm," Binhadi said thoughtfully, and nodded at Mahzan off in the distance. "He will be able to one day."

  Sule made a face and said sourly, "Fires spare me ever having to rely on that damned fool for anything."

  Cemal smirked and recited, "'Take care the words you utter, child, for he who issues challenges will find that the Great Dragon thrives on meeting them.'"

  "I avoid sermons because of smarmy priests like you," Sule replied, and increased his own pace so that he fell somewhere between Mahzan far ahead, and Cemal and Binhadi behind.

  Binhadi shook his head. "We have a long way to go."

  Cemal nodded. "Let us be honest: it's by the Dragon's mercy we're doing this well, given all the grief and anger pressing down upon us. We'll smooth out as time goes on."

  Something like wistfulness, a bit of sadness, passed like a shadow over Binhadi's face. "I doubt that will be the case, but one can always hope, I suppose." He attempted a smile, but gave it up before it had fully formed and only asked, "May I see your memory stone?"

  Cemal hesitated a moment, because he never took it off and was loath to share, but the reality was that if they wanted to survive this strange adventure into which circumstance—or perhaps fate—had forced them, they were going to have to learn to trust each other. There was no time like the present to begin, and so he undid the clasp and held the necklace out.

  Binhadi cupped it in one palm, as though it were fragile, and laid his other hand gently over it, eyes falling half shut. He had, Cemal thought suddenly and stupidly, beautiful eyelashes. After a couple of minutes, Binhadi looked up again and held the amulet back out. "There are intact memories there, near as I can tell. It will only take a strong and dedicated mind mage to bring them out. If you ever felt like explaining to Mahzan who and why, he would probably do it, once the new memory stone is obtained. Perhaps it would keep him occupied, hmm?"

  "Perhaps," Cemal said, smiling briefly as he replaced the amulet around his neck. "So who gifted yours? Your parents?"

  "No," Binhadi replied, face closing up even more than usual. "A close friend of my father's gave it to me."
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  "Simple enough, yet I sense the matter is precisely the opposite," Cemal said. "But from what I have heard, complicated runs in your family."

  Binhadi nodded, and this time there was no mistaking the sadness that ghosted over his features. He reached up and touched his own memory stone lightly. "Yes, it does, all the way down to our marrow." They lapsed into silence, walking steadily on through the dark woods that surrounded them, alternating between shade and pools of golden sunlight.

  Sule stopped ahead of them, waiting until they caught up. "If I recall correctly, there is a spring perhaps another's hour travel ahead. I assume that's the campsite you mentioned?" When Binhadi nodded, he added, "We'll stop there for the rest of the day, then. We could all use the rest, or at least as much rest as sleeping on cold ground brings. Assuming we can find the fool to make him stop, anyway."

  "He cannot have gone far," Cemal said, amused. "I—" he broke off with a cry as the image of a body, its throat crudely slit, appeared in his mind, along with an urgent cry of 'Come now!' Cemal shook his head as it all faded. "What in the fires was that?"

  Binhadi replied, "Our errant fool, using his improved abilities. I think he is just up the way. How did I miss we had lost sight of him?"

  "That was the royal healer who was dead!" Sule snarled, and took off running.

  Cemal followed suit, impressed that Binhadi kept pace. They rounded a bend in the path—and almost ran straight into Sule. Nearly falling over in his efforts to avoid the collision, Cemal regained his balance and followed his gaze. Off the path, down a steep slope, Mahzan knelt by the body he had shown them just moments ago. "What in the holy fires?"

  "Secluded area," Sule said grimly. "Even more so down there, especially if it was early in the morning or late in the day. Easy to kill him, easy to dump the body, but who in the name of the Great Dragon would murder Master Ardur? Dragon's teeth! The Heart is destroyed, and all of its healers with it. The ground is not littered with them. Who would murder a man we could sorely use right now? Fires!"