Finding Direction
by Susanne Thomas
Part 1 appears in this issue.
conclusion
The mage said nothing while the two kept pace with her. They passed under an enormous doorway. Soon, they crossed through the darkened halls to the center courtyard. A circle of similarly robed masters stood in a circle.
A clear voice filled the space. “Welcome, Isbella and Soros. We gather tonight, under the setting sun of spring to see if the two of you have been forged as one during your time at this school. Can you continue together? Are you prepared to serve?”
Isbella looked at Soros for a moment before they both nodded and spoke together, “We are a partnership, ready to learn, grow, and serve.” The ritual was not overly long, but binding once spoken. A small, heatless flame flared blue for a moment, encapsulating the pair and sealing them in their accepted duty.
A new figure from the circle, wearing the red sash of the headmaster, stepped into the light. “A guest on our grounds, Master Bathory, has in his possession a magic compass said to grant the owner the ability to find the thing they need the most. Retrieve it using the skills we’ve taught you and bring it back to us so that we can return it to its owner.”
Soros gave a small snap of his wings; the coincidence was too much for him. Isbella gave her partner a pointed look. He would enjoy stealing something like a magic compass from the wealthy businessman. Soros curled his closed maw up just slightly at the corner. The mages watched their silent exchange, eyebrows raised in question at the brief communication.
Isabella and Soros exited the circle without ceremony and left from the opposite side of the vast courtyard, going deeper into the sprawling school grounds. The two maintained silence until they were well away from their masters.
“I warned you about Bathory ”Isbella whispered furiously at Soros. “What do you want to bet that the compass is evil?”
“The masters wouldn’t send us against someone evil. This is just a test, a game. I’m sure the compass is safe.”
Isbella grumbled for a few minutes until they came to a fork in their path. She looked to the left and nodded. “Think he’ll be in the guest quarters? I don’t fancy looking for him among all of those rooms.”
Soros turned to the right and gestured with his wing and tried to lower his voice. “Bathory would be a very special guest; he’ll be in the Dean’s Haven.”
Isbella stared at her partner’s face for a minute, puzzling out his knowledge in the darkness. “I’ve never seen him.”
“Of course not, he’s not a baker,” Soros teased. He continued quietly, “I told you earlier, he’s a trader, a major trader.”
Isbella patted him on the shoulder. “And he took your coins?”
“Yes,” Soros answered in a hiss as they walked the route to the Dean’s Haven, where the most prestigious guests stayed in six well-appointed cottages.
“We need a place to work,” she said. The hall was empty for now, but they needed space, without interruptions.
They made their way to the empty breezeways. It was late evening now, and their hopes for stealth hung on people attending the dinner hall for supper.
“This field should be good,” Soros said as they followed a trail around a small stand of trees. “There’s even coverage from the school.”
They walked to the far side of the trees, away from the six cottages lined neatly around the small path that led to them. The two had to rely on the waning moon to see.
“No one seems to be in tonight,” Soros whispered, sighing in relief. The windows of all of the cottages were darkened.
“I need to be able to concentrate,” Isbella said. “I’m not great at doing two things at once like you.” She unpacked their bag of ingredients with a few quick movements.
“Like this?” Soros asked, laughing. He’d hooked a bag of magic powder already and had laid a pinch in his talons to start a fire. Another pinch levitated sticks from the ground.
“Oh, stop it! There’s no need to brag, and you’re wasting my black powder.” Isbella shook her head at the dragon’s prank.
Soros frowned, dragon maw drooping. “Where’s the fun, Issy? You promised that we’d love doing all of these spells, but it’s always so serious.”
“After we pass our test and we’re hired on. After we don’t have to bake all day or lose money on stupid companies and traders, then we can have fun. Then we can play,” she answered as she drew a delicate circle in salt and granite.
The dragon sighed and closed his claws together, dispelling the magic.
Isbella was silent for a moment before gritting her teeth to speak. “I’ve drawn my spell up, where’s the compass? I need a direction for this. I attached the large dippers to the vials for you.”
Soros smiled and gathered the ones he needed. He crafted his own circle of granite and salt. He could hear a hum coming from four different wards in current use. Three were high pitched, probably light protection for conversations or to keep someone from entering their cottage without permission. One was deeper, throbbing slow. It vibrated in the air around the home. That was what he was looking for. No one would funnel power into a spell that big without reason.
“The left cottage, Issy.”
“Got it, just a small push.” The deeper hum changed tone. She couldn’t eliminate it without alarm, but she altered it to allow them in with an amulet they’d made earlier in the week. More accurately: to let her in; Soros was too large for the door. They could have altered Soros’s size, but the amulet for that was difficult to craft and best held until needed. Isbella had lighter fingers anyway.
They slunk toward the cottage that, hopefully, held their prize. The cloudy night hid most of the dragon’s bulk, and the hedges did the rest.
“What can you hear?” Isbella asked Soros, her voice barely audible.
Soros twitched his ears from left to right, trying to catch some sound, but nothing reached his ears. He shook his head. “Silence.”
Isbella took a deep breath as she reached into her bag. The amulet went on smoothly, but its weight pulled at her. Magic always carried a price; charms were physically painful burdens, and not taken on lightly. The stronger the magic, the worse the amulet felt to the wearer. This one was strong enough to cause Issy to have some regret for the necessary action.
She placed the bag next to the dragon and wordlessly stared at Soros for a moment before nodding and testing the door. The handle turned, and she cracked it just wide enough for her slight body to enter.
An alarm of flashing light was triggered, a ward undetected by the pair’s magic spells. Isbella began to back up from the cottage as light flooded the yard, and the door threw itself open the rest of the way.
A large hand grabbed Issy’s arm. She disappeared before she could even scream. The door slammed behind her; the yard was once again dark. The dragon tugged the door’s handle, but he could not make it open.
Soros thought for a moment before dumping the contents of the bag on the ground around him. He pawed through the contents of ingredients and prepared spells. The powder wasted to play with flame and light had been used up by Isbella’s door spell. He wrinkled his muzzle at his earlier foolishness. Wrapped in a silk binding scarf was another amulet. The one meant to warp his body to get him through small spaces.
He hurled himself into the door, smashing it open. Soros then flung the amulet over his head. A deep ache spread from his neck throughout his entire body. Soros felt himself twist; his vision altered as his body shrank until the giant dragon was almost the size of Isbella. He ran inside the shattered door.
“Isbella!” he bellowed and looked around the richly appointed sitting room. A faint green light shone through an opened doorway. The man Soros knew to be Bathory stood tall and looming. The green light surrounded him as he held a knife over Isbella. She was laid on her back, conscious but unmoving. A bright silver compass sat against her dark skin. Short, ragged breaths reached Soros’s sensitive ears.
She saw her partner and shook her head slightly. “Run, Soros!”
The green light flickered as Bathory looked up. A long, pale gray braid hung behind him, neatly out of his way and his eyes blazed green in the glow, color indistinguishable from the spell surrounding him. His voice was dry and crackled in Soros’s ear. “How kind of you two to join me. I can’t tell you how much power I will gain from draining you both.”
Soros stepped forward, searching for something to grab as a weapon. The guest cottage was spotless and minimally furnished, and he saw nothing beyond the dark wizard standing before him.
Bathory laughed at the dragon: “Die with dignity, Dragon. It’s all you can salvage.”
“Abomination!” Soros roared, becoming aware of how powerless he was next to Bathory.
“You judge me? What are your laws to me? I will have her blood, and then I will have yours.”
Soros dove over Isbella’s body, his front leg flying up to take the brunt of the knife’s attack. His scales minimized the damage of the steel edge. His blood oozed out, sizzling acid on the weapon. Bathory pulled a second blade and brought it back to put force behind it. Soros pulled his haunch up to defend his unprotected middle. He braced himself for evisceration.
A painful rip of the leather cord around Soros’s neck caught him by surprise. He registered a dull clunk. Once again, there was a twisting and shift as his body lurched into normal size. He stood disoriented for a moment, before realizing that Isbella had yanked the amulet from his neck. He stomped down in surprise, and a loud squelching sounded beneath him. Uneasily, he bent his head and lifted his leg. Beneath his foot was the crushed body of Bathory, merchant and apparent magician. He had fallen in the surprise of the moment, and Soros’s foot had found his abdomen.
Soros stood awkwardly for a moment, scared to move for fear of crushing Isbella as well. “Can you move?” he asked her.
She patted his shoulder. “Yes, just give me a moment to get past your giant body.”
She maneuvered around him and left the cottage, giving him room to turn around enough that he could ram his way through the wooden door frame to the outside. He threw his weight against the door again, and again. The splintered wood groaned before shattering apart. The wall cracked in long lines past the new opening. Once free, he could see Isbella standing slumped, rubbing her hands over bruises on her arms.
“Soros?” Isbella looked up at him, her eyes still wide with fear.
“We did it, Issy!” Soros said as he tried to smile and comfort his partner.
A woman’s voice came from behind: “So it would seem.” The dragon spun around and was confronted with the dark robed mages that had sent them on their test.
The woman continued, arms crossed in front of her. “Do you think we take kindly to the murdering of our guests?”
“Honored Mages, he was—” Soros stammered until the woman’s hand stopped him.
One of the other figures stepped forward: “She speaks in jest.” The man lowered his hood as he continued. “The compass is a blood magic artifact, and was the final proof we needed against Bathory.”
“And you sent us for it?” Soros growled.
“All the masters were watched by him. We could hardly make a move against him without raising suspicions. The objects he possessed would have shielded him from anything he saw coming,” the head mage responded.
Isbella walked up to stand next to her partner. “Does that mean we pass?”
“We were not brought the compass.”
The other hooded forms chuckled, and he saw Isbella return to the broken cottage. Her arm swung, and silver flashed by his body into the hands of the teasing mage.
“There’s your compass. Now can we be apprentices?” Isbella raised an eyebrow.
The magician’s laughter grew in volume. The head mage called the noise to a halt and answered, “Welcome to the life, to the breath, and to the world of magic. May you forever serve.” He walked away, followed by the other robed figures.
The pair watched them walk away into the darkness for a while before Soros whispered to Isbella, “Can you help me get the rest of Bathory off my foot?”
Copyright © 2019 by Susanne Thomas
