Fifth Spell: Qesuyit, Dragon Scale
Strolling into a small clearing, Mei came upon a pile of animal leavings that dwarfed her boots, suggesting a large beast had passed through. Curious, she snapped a twig off a nearby tree and dug into them, revealing a lot of seeds and a strong odor. The beast was obviously omnivorous. Mei looked around and found a massive paw print almost two thumbs deep. She grinned. There was a full-grown grimbear in this forest and judging by the spacing of its tracks, it was healthy. With any luck she’d get to see it in person and confirm all the stories she’d heard as a child. She followed the tracks to a berry bush, where most of the berries had been consumed. As she tracked the bear, she found more and more half consumed berry bushes, leavings, and the occasional animal carcass. The grimbear didn’t bother searching for food; it just moved in an straight line and ate whatever it found. Using the bushes, carcasses, and leavings as points in a line, Mei guessed where the grimbear was headed and dashed ahead to try and catch up. After a few minutes, she finally found a berry bush unmolested by bear lips. Picking one of the berries and popping it into her mouth, Mei climbed a tree and waited for her quarry.
From her perch, the Souran forests weren’t so different from the ones that Mei had played in as a child. The trees were a little sparser and the bird calls were different, but the smell of red pine and the whisper of the wind through the grass helped Mei relax. Her left hand rested on a large knife she’d bought in Anders, its blade suited for tearing into tough animal hide. Her rifle was strapped to her back, already loaded. Taking her hand off the knife, she felt the soft leather pouch tied to her belt that held her remaining bullets. It was strangely empty. Frowning, she looked into the bag. She only had one bullet left.
A stick broke. Looking down, Mei zeroed in on the sound with her ears while quietly moving to the other side of the tree. Carefully and swiftly, she slid her rifle from its holster and held it at the ready. She slowed her breath, focusing on the sounds the wind carried towards her. Tree leaves rustled, branches creaked, and the wind whistled, and, hidden under all of that, the smoosh of soft soled boots creeping up on her tree. Mei counted breaths. It was just one person. Gripping her rifle in one hand, Mei drew her hunting knife and waited.
One step.
Two steps.
One heavy step.
Nothing.
Frowning, Mei peered down at the ground. With a thump, something landed in the tree next to hers, shaking leaves from it. Whirling around, Mei saw a short squat figure dressed in dark brown hunting leathers perched on a branch. Mei placed her rifle sights on the figure’s face, which bore a red and white mask in the shape of a rabbit’s face. Before she could pull the trigger, Rabbit jumped straight up, flipped, landed in the thicket below, and dashed away. Rabbit moved too fast for Mei to risk a bullet on her, so she jumped out of the tree, pulling her knife out of its hilt. Rabbit had looked unarmed, but Mei had seen men break wood with their bare fists and didn’t want to take that risk. She turned to run home. Ducking and weaving, Rabbit cut her off. When Mei took aim, Rabbit sunk into the undergrowth and then reappeared in the branches above her. Again and again Mei tried to get a clear shot, but Rabbit kept dipping in and out of the undergrowth and then escaping to the trees, always causing Mei to step back to stay out of range. Her last step took her into a meadow, where Rabbit wouldn’t have any cover, but Mei couldn’t go forward. She considered running in the other direction, away from Anders, but then Rabbit would go to the city, find her brother, and kill him. So she turned to face Rabbit, but she had vanished. While Mei searched the forest’s edge, something else caught her attention.
Heavy steps and heavy breathing.
A low rumble.
Roaring, a grimbear crashed out of the forest. As it sniffed the air, Mei backpedaled deeper into the meadow and stepped on something that cracked, filling her nose with ammonia and sulfur. She looked down. Her foot was now covered in urine. She looked up to see Rabbit give a respectful bow from behind the grimbear and then melt into the forest. Rabbit would not be back; Mei had to deal with the grimbear.
If all had gone as planned, Mei would have been in awe of how right the stories had been. The beast was more than twice the height of a small house and almost as wide. Its face was covered in a thick skull-like shell, one that was almost impossible for the average archer to penetrate with an arrow. When it roared, Mei saw that it had almost too many teeth for its jaw, including a pair of sharp yellowed fangs. Sheathing her knife, Mei took her rifle in both hands, set the stock against her shoulder and aimed. The bear stood at five wirs from her, its nose widening from the urine smell. Rumbling with rage, it charged.
Four wirs.
This close the grimbear’s footfalls shook almost as much as the dragon’s had.
Three wirs.
The bear had stopped roaring and picked up speed.
Two wirs.
She could see how red its eyes were, almost smell its grey coat in the summer sun.
One wir.
The grimbear roared.
Mei fired.
The bear’s momentum took it past her and into the middle of the clearing where it collapsed in a heap on the ground. It lay there, its breath growing more and more ragged. Mei walked up to it, watching to see if it was going to rise and attack her, but its eyes were just searching, looking around for … something. Drawing her knife, Mei looked down at the dying bear whose body practically formed a huge gray furred hill in the middle of the meadow. Its breathing was growing more ragged, and blood was starting to dribble from its mouth. Her shot down its throat had been precise. She walked around to the bear’s head and looked it in the eye.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
She raised the knife.
***
Ignoring the sounds of Anders’s market day trickling in through the window of the room she and Dwayne shared, Magdala stared at a perfectly smooth blank piece of parchment. She dipped her quill into her ink bottle, wiped off the excess ink on the bottle’s neck, and positioned the quill over the parchment. Then she sighed and put the quill back on its stand.
This was her fifth attempt to write a letter to her mother today. Getting the parchment out and getting ink on the quill was the furthest she’d gotten on this letter since they’d returned from Yulan’s Pass three weeks ago. All she had to do was tell her mother that they’d been ambushed by bandits, forced to hire mercenaries, captured a juvenile dragon, and used it to lure a mature dragon into a trap so that they could get a few scales and some claw shavings. Her mother would react to this news calmly and merely request that Magdala return home and resume her studies at the Academy. She absolutely would not storm out to Anders on the next available carriage and demand that not only would Magdala come home, but that her lord uncle, Lord Kalan, stop what he was doing and come home and marry so that the family estate would be secure.
With that hypothetical bouncing around in her mind, Magdala’s head hit the desk, slightly crinkling the parchment. Most likely, her mother would lock Lord Kalan in a dungeon with a willing woman until he proposed, got married, and sired an heir. What she’d do to his Wesen apprentice, Magdala had no idea. Her lord uncle had turned down dozens of candidates over the years, daughters and sons of prominent families, including several of her cousins from her father’s side. It’d be bad if she found out about Dwayne. She just had no idea how bad.
Three hard knocks at the door broke her concentration.
“Come in, Dwayne,” she said, her head still resting on the parchment. Her lord uncle’s apprentice pushed open the door with his hip and strolled in, rifling through a stack of envelopes. Seeing them, Magdala bolted upright.
“Any word from Mother?” she asked.
“No, no word,” said Dwayne. “Mostly overdue library book notices and letters from Lord Kalan’s…rivals. They’ll say the usual.” He tossed them all onto his bed without opening any of them.
“Really?” she asked. “Magical theory is still very new, and there’s a lot of speculation about how magic really works. Maybe they’ll have something that you missed in your universal magic theory.”
Dwayne sighed and sat down on the bed. He picked up a light blue envelope with messy handwriting on the front.
“Lord Hobstock believes that diet powers magical abilities. He gives, as evidence, the fact that the most powerful mages have always been well fed.”
Dwayne picked up a flowery yellow envelope with stark precise handwriting.
“The Duchess of Hamms believes that magic is simply one of the mysteries of the world and shouldn’t be investigated at all. She largely sides with the Church on the usage of magic and stops just short of saying that we should just study theory and never practice.”
He picked up a pink envelope printed with scenes of battle.
“Professor Corns, who wrote a book last year detailing Lady Pol’s theories, declares magic derives from emittance in every article he writes. He mainly asks if we’ve seen Lady Pol and wonders when she’ll hold her next exhibition. He never comes up with his own ideas or tests hers.”
He picked up a plain purple envelope, frowned, and put it down, tossing the rest of the envelopes on top of it.
“All of them want Lord Kalan to stop writing papers on the subject ‘so they can enjoy their perch atop the academic world in peace.’”
“My lord uncle’s words?”
“I paraphrased for politeness.”
Curious, Magdala leaned over and pulled the purple envelope out of the pile and read the sending address.
“This is from Lady Luisa Pol? She’s…famous. I mean even my mother respects her.”
“Lord Kalan says she’s a bitch. When he’s drunk. When he’s sober she’s ‘that woman.’”
“I’ve read his essays. Her theories are far more compelling.”
“But only backed up by children’s stories and hearsay. That’s not enough.”
“There’s quite a lot to them though. My father says her articles have given him ideas on how to handle the Vanurian border.” Magdala opened the envelope and read the letter. She gasped.
“Lady Pol’s penmanship is only matched by her elegant prose,” said Dwayne. “Her papers have been useful in improving Lord Kalan’s drafts.”
“This is an invitation,” said Magdala.
“What?” Sitting up, Dwayne grabbed the parchment out of Magdala’s hand and read it.
“What’s in Yumma?” he asked.
Magdala gaped at him.
“Yumma was the capital city of the Yani empire,” she said. “It was the seat of the largest empire to have ever existed.”
“And?”
“And they had amazing magic! They were able to get water from here to a city in the middle of the desert thousands of miles away. It’s just ruins now, but…”
“It’s the middle of the desert?” asked Dwayne. He mulled over that fact.
“Are you talking about the City of Souls?” he asked.
“Why would you call anything that?”
“Because it’s haunted.”
Magdala shook her head.
“I’ve never heard anyone call it that before.”
“Hmm… I’m pretty sure the City of Souls is in the middle of the desert. Anyway,” Dwayne stuffed the letter into his pocket. “There’s no way Lord Kalan will accept this invitation, even with the promise of new magic.”
“Ah…good. Yes, good,” said Magdala, smiling weakly. “It’s hard enough to write to my mother as it is, right? I’m supposed to be studying proper magic, not going on archeological digs. Or dragon hunts.”
“I don’t know. Considering the amount of focus it would take to get water across the desert over such long distances, it may be worth looking into…”
Magdala looked at Dwayne, who was staring blankly at the wall muttering to himself.
“Are you okay?” she asked. Dwayne blinked and looked at her, still holding the letter.
“Yeah I’m…oh sh-shoot. I have to go. Lord Kalan needs me to run through the experiment again.”
Magdala looked at the still blank piece of parchment. It wasn’t going anywhere.
“You know what? I need a break,” she said. “Let’s go.”
***
Dwayne led Magdala to a small yard behind the inn where a table had been covered with dozens of vials of various colors. Lord Kalan was inspecting the vials, making notes as he went. He looked up, saw Dwayne and frowned.
“What were you doing?” he asked. “And what’s that?”
Dwayne realized he was still holding Lady Pol’s letter in his hand. He stuffed it into his pocket.
“Nothing, Lord Kalan,” he said. “Are we starting?”
“Let’s start with these today,” said Lord Kalan. He handed Dwayne a rag and three vials, each a suspension of shaved dragon scales using different liquid bases.
“Bluecut mushroom, lebelweed, and kui sap?” asked Magdala. “You really have no idea what you’re doing, do you, lord uncle?”
Lord Kalan glared at his niece.
“These materials all have limited magical properties even in their processed state,” he explained. Magdala frowned.
“I thought you said that magic in the suspension may inhibit pulling the-”
“Well that didn’t work. This will.”
Magdala shrugged and went over to stand next to the table. Lord Kalan cleared his throat.
“Now, Dwayne,” he said. “Recite the first lesson.”
“The core of Qe magic is understanding,” Dwayne answered. “I focus my magic. I imagine the result. I speak the word.”
“Good. Keep that in mind.” said Lord Kalan. “Start with the kui sap. I have a good feeling about that one.”
Putting the other two vials down, Dwayne held up a vial of shaved dragon scale and tree sap, pressed it against the dishrag Lord Kalan had borrowed from the kitchen. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the part of him that burned when he used magic. He imagined the rag becoming as stiff as a dragon’s hide.
“Qesuyit!”
The word sent a shiver up his spine, but the rag remained limp. Instead, Dwayne felt the room spin for a second. Without looking, Lord Kalan took the vial from his apprentice.
“Qesuyit!” he said.
The vial flashed and then the rag became stiff as a board. Dwayne watched Lord Kalan dismiss the spell with a gesture, letting the rag go limp again. Letting Dwayne stand on his own, he made a note in his journal.
“Let’s move on to the lebelweed,” he said.
Nodding, Dwayne picked up the vial with the lebelweed suspension and repeated the process.
“Qesuyit!”
This time Dwayne almost collapsed. He just barely kept himself upright as Lord Kalan checked the rag. It was still limp. Lord Kalan took the vial from him and made a note.
“What’s it doing to him?” asked Magdala.
“Believe or not this is a result,” said Lord Kalan. “The nonmagical suspensions did nothing. Let’s move on to the bluecut mushroom.”
“You’re going in order of magical potency, right?” asked Magdala.
“The non magical stuff didn’t have any effect.”
Dwayne picked up the vial, blocking out Lord Kalan and his niece. Instead of the rag going stiff, he imagined it becoming dragon scale, something that easily staved off the sharpest sword.
“Qesuyit!”
Dwayne’s magic rebelled. He felt his legs cut out from under him and watched the floor come up to meet his face.
“Dwayne. Dwayne!”
Something cool and sweet dribbled down his throat as Dwayne became conscious. It swept the nausea away and he felt his magic calm again. Opening his eyes, he saw Lord Kalan and Magdala were leaning over him. Lord Kalan had a strange sad expression, one Dwayne had only seen once before.
“Did it work?” Dwayne asked.
“No,” said Lord Kalan. “We’ll have to try again.”
Magdala stepped forward.
“I think you’re going to have to-” Dwayne cut off Magdala’s protest.
“Okay. Just give me a few minutes to recover,” said Dwayne.
“Good. I’m going to have a look through my books to see if there’s anything there to help,” said Lord Kalan, standing up and brushing himself off. “I’ll be right back.”
As Lord Kalan walked off, Dwayne sat up and took several deep breaths to check if he was really okay. The breathing did nothing to remove his shame. He’d have to figure out something else. Maybe he was imagining the wrong thing.
“I don’t think you can do this,” said Magdala. She’d stood up and started to inspect the vials.
“What?”
“This is pretty difficult,” she said.
“No, it’s not,” said Dwayne, standing up. “Children can do it.”
“Bright children can do it,” said Magdala.
“So you think I’m not smart enough.”
“No, you’re…it’s…just that this is impossible. Especially for you because -”
“‘Especially for me?”
Dwayne faced Magdala, gritting his teeth.
“I’ve read every book on Qe in the past year,” he said. “This is a basic spell, one a Qe mage learns in their first year. One a child figures out if they just read the description. Why can’t I do it?”
“You’re not a Qe mage! You don’t think like we do!”
“Right, Qe mages are good at running away.”
“What does that mean?”
“If I could, I’d send a letter to my mother.”
“You don’t understand. You don’t even know who she is.”
“Yeah, she was taken away. I remember that.”
“No! I mean, it’s just…my mother…”
“She’s there and she cares,” said Dwayne. “She just wants the best for you.”
“No, she wants me to be her. She wants me to be the Aqua Magia, one of the most powerful mages in Soura.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t want to be a mage!”
“What are you two arguing about?”
Lord Kalan reappeared, looking around. Dwayne and Magdala stepped back from each other, unaware they’d been practically yelling into each other’s face.
“I can’t find my copy of Shocks, Chills, and Colds,” he said. “Did I leave it out here?”
“It’s underneath your pillow,” said Dwayne, stomping away from Magdala. “You were reading it last night.”
“Oh right,” said Lord Kalan. “You seem better now. Focus on your Ri studies until we’re ready to begin again. Magdala, prepare the liquefied azade and ambersoul extract. I have a good feeling about those.” Magdala turned her back to Dwayne and moved over to two bowls on the corner of the table.
As she and Lord Kalan worked, Dwayne glanced at Na’cch, which was laying on the table next to the vials. He considered the spellbook to be a cursed blessing. It was the only reason why Lord Kalan had taken him to be an apprentice and it was the only way for him to learn Ri magic. Unfortunately it worked on unknown and arbitrary principles, and Lord Kalan gave no instructions other than “trust the book.” Dwayne contemplated spending several hours trying to get the book to reveal a new spell. He’d rather spend those hours using the vials. At least something different was happening with those even if it was different kinds of failure. He slipped his hands into his pocket where something crinkled. It was Lady Pol’s letter.
The last time he’d learned a new spell, he’d been out in the field, doing stuff.
“Sir, I have something,” he said. Lord Kalan perked up. Dwayne never called him “Sir.”
“What is it?” he asked.
Dwayne pulled the invitation out of his pocket.
“This is an invitation to explain your theory. It’s from Lady Pol,” he said. He saw Magdala’s eyes widen, but she didn’t say anything. It was somewhat true after all.
Lord Kalan frowned.
“That… doesn’t sound like her,” he said.
“She’s at a dig in Yumma and found something that could support your theory.” Possibly true.
“If so she’d-”
“She’ll definitely back down in the face of hard evidence. That’s why we’ve been doing these right?” As far as Dwayne knew, Lady Pol was just as stubborn as Lord Kalan, but miracles could happen.
Lord Kalan still looked skeptical, but Dwayne could see that the idea appealed to him.
“Are you sure that’s from Luisa?” he asked. Dwayne held up the envelope. It had a purple wax seal with a stag and a tree pressed into it.
“Well,” said Lord Kalan. “I have a great deal to write then. You’ll need to arrange a caravan and protection. Get those Tuqu mercenaries we hired last time. They were very efficacious.”
Magdala brightened.
“Actually I’ve been keeping in contact with Mei,” she said. “I was going to see if she was available for dinner.”
“Good, good,” said Lord Kalan. “Dwayne, you know what to do.”
“Yes, Lord Kalan.”
Lord Kalan disappeared into the inn.
Magdala glared at Dwayne.
“You lied to him,” she said.
“I’m sick of being here,” said Dwayne. “Where are Mei and…Huan, right? You know where they are?”
“I do.”
Dwayne gave an exaggerated bow.
“Lead the way.”
***
“Please, good sir. Spare coin for me?”
Stopped on the cobbled boulevard on his way to his banker, Baron Ruil scowled at the wide brimmed woven hat bowed over a grubby hand. He almost recoiled when the beggar looked up and smiled at him between the boils and moles that had colonized his face.
“Damn border guards will let anyone through these days,” he said, stepping back.
“Well they aren’t paid that well,” said his guard. “I bet that he saved up for years to pay them off.”
“How droll.” Baron Ruil shoved the beggar out of the way and continued onwards. When the beggar wheezed and groaned, the guard kicked him and laughed. A growl cut the laughter short.
“What the -?”
The guard peered at the still moaning pile of rags, shrugged, and hurried to catch up to Baron Ruil. They didn’t see the beggar slip into the alley.
Rubbing his side, Huan removed the hat, the boils, and the moles and stuffed them into his bag. Then he checked his haul, a bag of counts and a book that had been secreted away on Baron Ruil’s person. It had taken him days to confirm that the baron had had this book on the secrets of the Tuquese binding art, the same magic that had created the Tiger mask that he’d been bonded to for nearly a month. He opened the book. It described weaving in intricate detail and mentioned nothing about magic. He glanced at the title. Bound History: The Importance of Weaving in Tuquese Culture. It was worthless. He tossed the book in the trash and started to head back to the lodgings he shared with Mei.
“You shouldn’t throw away books.”
Huan plastered a pleasant smile on his face and faced Magdala and her brute of a companion, Dwayne. Lord Kalan’s apprentice was looking a little green (from what Huan could tell), but still towered over Huan.
“You can have it if you want,” he said, pulling the book out of the trash and cleaning off the cover with his sleeve. “I think it’s right up your alley.”
“Oh you do, do you?” Magdala asked, reaching for the book. Huan pulled the book back.
“Three counts,” he said.
“You…you were about to throw it away!”
“And now you want it. Four counts,” he said. Dwayne stepped forward, and it was all Huan could do to stop himself from reaching for the knife hidden in his sleeve. He kept his smile up though. A smile was a good shield.
“I think you’d really benefit too,” he said.
“An earl a day for you and your sister’s expertise,” said Dwayne. Without missing a beat, Huan said, “two earls.”
“1 and 2 counts.”
“1 and 6 counts.”
“1 and four counts.”
Huan grinned.
“Done,” he said. “What do you need?”
“We’re going to Yumma,” Dwayne said as if Huan knew where that was.
“Are we hunting dragons again?” asked Huan, “because if we are, it’s double the price.”
“Where is Yumma?”
Mei’s quiet voice nearly made Huan jump out of his skin. Weirdly Tiger was perfectly fine with Mei sneaking up on him. Maybe he knew that she didn’t mean him any harm.
“It’s in the middle of the Great Desert,” said Magdala, stepping forward. “We’re going to an archeological dig there.”
“Is it far from here?” asked Mei.
“Yes, but-”
“We’ll do it.”
Part of Huan was horrified that Mei had missed the chance to negotiate for a better deal. Part of Huan wondered why his sister looked like she’d bathed in loose fur and blood. Tiger wondered if she’d had a good hunt.
“Great!” said Magdala.
“I’ll need more bullets.”
“We’ll take it out of your pay,” said Dwayne.
“Fine.”
Someday, Huan would teach his sister how to haggle.
“Good, we have a deal,” he said. “When do we leave?”
“By the end of the week,” said Dwayne. “I’ll send word to the tavern.” He turned and started to walk away. Classic move to cut off negotiations.
“You’ll be paying for our stay at the tavern, right?” Huan asked Magdala. She frowned and nodded.
“I don’t see why not,” she said. Huan, with a little smile, watched Dwayne slowly shake his head.
“Thank you very much,” he said.
As the two mages walked back the way they came, Huan tossed the book back in the trash.
“Why are we going out to the middle of the desert?” he asked Mei. Mei walked away from him.
“Hey!”
“I need a bath,” she said. She led Huan back to the tavern, which was apparently having a party. Entering the main room, Huan found that a mountain of fur and flesh had been propped up in a corner, its skull face and long teeth glaring down at him.
“What the hell is that?” he asked.
“You’ve never seen a grimbear before?”
A hunter clapped Huan on the back, nearly knocking him over.
“Where’d it come from?”
“Your sister brought it down! Don’t know how she did it.”
Huan knew and the knowledge made his heart drop into his stomach.
“Well that’s my sister,” he said. He glanced over at Mei, who was collecting the bath key from the barkeep. He excused himself from the hunter and walked over to the bar. The barkeep glowered at him as he sat down.
“My sister did bring down a grimbear,” he said. “That warrants a drink.”
The barkeep’s hand extended.
“Come on. I’m drinking to my sister’s success.”
The hand didn’t move.
“You’re so cruel.”
Huan pulled out a coin from the baron’s purse and pressed it into the barkeep’s hand. The barkeep looked at the silver count and glared.
“It’s honest money,” said Huan.
The coin disappeared and a tankard of beer appeared in front of Huan. Huan peered into it.
“That was a whole count!”
The barkeep ignored him. Huan started to drink, turning around so that he could toast to his sister and pretend to enjoy the party. He kept an eye on the tavern’s patrons, regulars who’d been here since the Earth was made, hunters who just needed someplace close to the forest that wasn’t too picky about the smell, and scumbags like Huan, who profited off the people of Anders. He’d prefer to live closer to the city center, but this was the only place that didn’t care where he and Mei were from. After all, hunters didn’t care so long as you brought in game, and thieves only cared if you stole from them and theirs.
His mind started to wander. He wasn’t starving, but he didn’t have any more leads to remove the tiger mask that was bonded to him. He suspected what he needed was in Tuqu, but if he returned, Dragon would hunt him down and kill him. There were nobles in Yumma, Huan thought, or else there wouldn’t be an archeological dig. Souran nobles didn’t seem to do anything unless it was prestigious and digging up the past to prove how much better the present was seemed right up their alley. Maybe that noble would have something that could lead to freedom.
Best part was that they were getting paid an earl a day! With that much he could pay someone to find a cure for him.
With that much, he could find someone to erase his sister’s criminal record and let her go home at least.
He gulped down the beer, turned back to barkeep, and slapped down a count.
“Another!”
Admaeus Speaks 
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