Agent of the Dragon

Rhysa flipped over the back of her chair, snatching her daggers from their hidden sheathes as her body rotated. She managed to shut down her shriek before it had time to do more than an undignified squawk. She landed with several nasty magical attacks already prepared. She stood coiled and ready, her daggers and her magic held in a multilevel guard. The tips of her daggers vibrated in time with her racing heart.

Hallyk remained seated and stared with wide-eyed respect. To Rhysa’s relief, he’d changed his eyes back to the slate blue she was used to seeing. They stayed frozen in place for several minutes--she, with tightly controlled panic and shock, he with adrenalized amazement.

Hallyk finally broke the tableau by swallowing the rest of his amethyst liquor in a gulp. He set the glass on a nearby table, and Rhysa heard the rattle that betrayed his shaking hands. She relaxed slightly, dismissed most of her readied magics, but kept her daggers ready. Hallyk took a deep breath, which she echoed.

“That was one reaction I wasn’t expecting,” His smile was weak.

Rhysa said nothing, but dismissed the rest of her magic and sheathed her daggers. Her heart beat quickly, but was slowing. She walked around to sit in the chair once again. Once seated, she began to tremble with reaction. She rested her head in her hands for a long moment, then rubbed her temples and looked up.

“That was one thing I wasn’t expecting.” Rhysa’s voice shook, applying his words to his eyes rather than her reaction.

“Apparently.” Hallyk’s voice had turned dry. “It was impressive, though.” Rhysa smiled slightly, not yet completely trusting the steadiness of her voice. “I imagine you have some questions. I’ll answer what I can.”

Rhysa took a deep breath and silently willed her voice to behave. To her gratification, her voice came out firm, if a little subdued. “How did you make the change? I didn’t notice any change in the overlay.”

Hallyk chuckled. “I half expected ‘What are you?’.”

“We’ll get to that.” Rhysa’s voice was demure, if oddly flat.

“Changing appearance and structure is inherent with me, thus no change in the magical overlay.”

Rhysa thought for a second, then switched to Sight. She saw the overlay, saw the ripples that indicated strong channels. What caught her attention was Hallyk himself. Hathorina had had magic shining through her skin; Hallyk, on the other hand, was more like a shell encasing a storm of magic energy. Rhysa gasped and dropped Sight as fast as she could.

Quite without thought, she blurted, “What are you?” Then she realized what she’d just said and blushed in mortification; nevertheless, she held his eye.

Hallyk laughed. When he calmed down, he apologized. “After your earlier reaction, and I’m sure you were going to wait a little longer before asking that question--well, it was too much.” His voice grew serious. “I am a dragon.”

Rhysa blinked. She’d known dragons were magical creatures; she hadn’t realized when the text had said dragons “were magic,” it was meant quite literally. “But how do you keep mages from Seeing?”

“Just as you have the ability to hide your tattoos, we have the ability to Mask ourselves--even from the Sight. Watch.”

Rhysa switched back to Sight. As before, she saw the raging storm contained within a shell. As she watched, she saw a slight eddy in the storm and suddenly all she saw was Hallyk and the magic that overlaid him. Rhysa grunted and returned her vision to normal.

“Since this ability uses the magic stored inside, rather than the overlay, we can do things without touching or affecting the overlay. We can shift our shape, and it’s a true shift, not an illusion, by reshaping the magic contained in our bodies. Since it is a true shift, it can be held indefinitely as no energy is needed to maintain it.”

Rhysa knew a creature made of magic could do what he described. The problem was any creature made of magic could do as he said: a dragon, certainly, but also a unicorn or a phoenix--or any number of less savory creatures.

He watched her closely, as if he could read her thoughts and anticipate what she would say. Rhysa wanted to believe him. She liked him well enough, and to her surprise, she trusted him, but this was a huge leap of faith. Dragons were rare, and if he were telling the truth, here were not one but three dragons. And not only were they not hiding, they ruled Ellendahl!

Hallyk stood and held out a hand to her. Rhysa looked at it, then into his face; she put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “Where are we going?”

“It’s obvious you have doubts about what I’ve told you. I’m going to show you something I hope will help.” He still held her hand, and she didn’t pull back, unsure why she wasn’t scared. If it had been any other man holding her hand, even someone like Tathan, she would be trying to escape.

Could what he said be true? He’d said they had similar blood in their veins. If he was telling the truth, somewhere in her family’s past was dragon blood. The blood of a creature made of magic was potent, and its effects would echo through several generations. No wonder she was strong in magic.

Hallyk led her through the halls. He stopped at what Rhysa assumed was a central support pillar for the palace. Hallyk released her hand to raise both of his. He sketched a design in the air, leaving trails of fire in the air. When he lowered his hands, a portion of the pillar swung out, revealing a steep circular staircase. He flashed a quick grin, and entered the pillar.

They descended in silence. By the time they reached the bottom, Rhysa thought they must be at least seventy feet below the palace foundations. Again, Hallyk drew fire in the air and a door opened. He led her out and she found herself in a cavern. Not exactly a cavern, she thought, the walls and decorations are too finished. It was more of a--“lair” was the only word that came to mind.

The cavern was large--larger than most cottages. Along each wall were several pedestals, each held things made of crystal: statues, cups, pitchers, vases. Too many things to inventory at a glance. At one end of the lair was a low stone shelf, slightly hollowed in the middle. There was something about it that labeled it as a bed. Unlike the halls and rooms in the palace, the lair was lit by magelight.

“These are my private rooms. Oh, I have a suite in the palace proper I use periodically to maintain appearances. This is where I can relax.”

Rhysa was not relaxed. As soon as he’d said “private rooms,” the old fear came back. Hallyk’s attentions were recast in a more sinister light. Why had he brought her here? Why had he revealed as much as he had? No, Rhysa was not relaxed.

“This is one of the very few places I can safely shift to my true form.” He turned and smiled at her. “I’m warning you this time because I don’t want to startle you again. You probably couldn’t hurt my dragon form much, but your magic is strong enough I don’t want to risk it. Besides--it would be noisy.”

Rhysa smiled wryly. She appreciated the warning, but held herself on the edge of violent action, both physical and magical, just in case.

“Stay here. I’m going to need space.”

He walked to the center of the lair while she stayed by the door. Then he turned to face her, and his form began to blur. He grew taller, and when he reached twice his original size, he crouched over and his arms and legs distorted. His head elongated and his neck lengthened; his torso thickened and his spine stretched into a tail. The muscles on his back rippled and wings unfurled. Then he began to grow again. When the blurring stopped, Rhysa looked at a dragon at least thirty feet from head to tail.

She stared at the dragon open mouthed. Something inside her trembled. Several of her mental walls shattered and she was inundated with visions, voices, smells, tastes, touches--memories. The flood completely overwhelmed her. The world faded from view, and she never saw Hallyk’s claw dart out and catch her. Nor did she feel when he laid her gently down.

Rhysa knew she dreamed, and yet knew they were also memories:

“No, child,” said the rumbling bass of her teacher’s voice. “You must first make sure to establish a ground before you link, or you will only push yourself backwards.”

“But it worked,” protested Rhysa. “Why should I take the extra time?”

The dragon sighed and she felt the warm gust wash over her. “Very well. Let me show you.” He blurred and shifted into a man. When he finished his shifting, the man stood just under six feet. He was wiry and looked like his movements could outrun lighting if he needed them to. The only clue to his true form he allowed to remain was the peculiar red-gold color of his eyes.

“Now. I want you to push me back. Do it any way you wish.”

Rhysa knew this wouldn’t be easy. He wouldn’t actively counter her, but he would resist. She took a deep breath and allowed her channels to fill as much as she dared. Then she shoved at him with one short, sharp burst--and found herself flung into a wall several feet behind her. She hit it hard enough to knock the breath out of her and stars danced in front of her eyes. She let the wall support her while she recovered. When she could breathe again, and the stars in front of her eyes faded, she walked back to her teacher.

“Not bad. If you’d grounded before you shoved, I would have been pushed back a few feet. Give it another try.”

Once more Rhysa let her channels fill. This time she used some of the energy to link herself to the ground. When the link was firmly established, Rhysa gave another strong push. She was gratified when he grunted and skidded back a few feet. She warmed at the smile he awarded her.

The lesson blended with others, an entire childhood of learning. As the lessons continued, the memory-dream faded, and Rhysa was presented with another memory in the guise of a dream.

Sweat dripped off the tip of Rhysa’s nose and another drop found its way into an eye, blurring her vision and stinging slightly. She panted heavily but forced herself to remain upright. Her teacher, once more in human shape, walked around the large room resetting the obstacle course. Rhysa paced quickly to keep her muscles warm.

This was the latest piece of torture her teacher had devised. It was not that the obstacle course was outrageously hard. Difficult, yes, but not even close to impossible. The stated purpose of these sessions was to teach her how to infuse every movement with magic so that it would be equally easy to meet a challenge physically or magically, or both at the same time.

She wasn’t a dragon, made of magical energy, but her channels were large enough that when fully filled, she might as well be. That was the true purpose of these exercises: to allow her to briefly become a truly magical creature. It was incredibly difficult, and she would never be able to duplicate the inherent abilities of dragons, such as their shape shifting and their fearsome flaming breath. She certainly wouldn’t be able to sustain the effort it took to keep that amount of magic flowing through her channels for long. When it worked, though, nothing short of a true magical creature could stop her. Well, that was an exaggeration, but it definitely felt that way.

“Ready.” Her teacher’s voice reached across the course.

Rhysa took a deep breath, shook out the remaining tension, and focused. This time she held nothing back. As she dodged, parried, and ducked her way through the obstacles, magic roared through her. Each split second was an eternity, each jump--flight. With a thought, she used a piece of nearby debris to intercept a swinging blade, slowing the blade enough for her to slip past untouched.

As she neared the end, she felt the magic start to falter, all the previous runs catching up. With a final burst of effort, she dived over the final wall, and as she rolled under the finish-line tape, the magic faded completely.

She lay there panting, too weak to move, never mind standing. The light was eclipsed by her teacher standing at her head, looking down. “Very well done, my child!”

Her response was harsh with panting exhaustion. “Thank you, Father.”

Rhysa leapt to her feet, only vaguely aware of hasty movement, as of someone springing out of the way. She sank to the ground, panting as if she had just run the obstacle course in her memory. Gradually, she became aware of where she was: on the ground, in a lair, sitting at the feet of a dragon. She stared at the huge head. It was held so low it nearly touched the ground. Slitted red-gold eyes peered at her, and for a moment, reality and memory merged.

“Are you all right?” The dragon’s voice, though lighter and higher pitched than her father’s, was still deep and thrumming.

“Yes. Just a little dazed.” Rhysa was having trouble focusing on anything. “How long was I out?”

“Not long. A few minutes. Perhaps ten.”

Rhysa groaned. “It felt like an eternity. The others will start to wonder soon.”

The dragon blurred, and the Hallyk she knew re-appeared. The transformation was much faster this time. He stood above her and offered a hand. She took it and was hauled to her feet. Hallyk supported Rhysa while she regained her balance.

After a short time, Rhysa stepped away. She looked around briefly and saw several crystal sculptures she would have liked to examine more closely. It was an irrelevant thought, but she was still having trouble stringing two coherent thoughts together. Unfortunately, what she had told Hallyk was true. If they didn’t return soon, the others would start to wonder what they had been up to.

She glanced at Hallyk and saw he was grinning. “Yet another reaction I didn’t expect.” He shook his head in mock resignation. “Always doing the unexpected. How will you ever get anywhere?”

Rhysa smiled at his sally, too dazed to actually laugh. “Come on. Let’s get back to the others.”

He nodded and led her back up the stairs into the palace proper. Rhysa hoped she could get herself back under control by the time they joined the others.

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