Chapter 80
DIRK BLABS EVERYTHING, THE FATE OF DRAGONS, AND THAT DAY IN THE LILACS BY THE LAKE
Wyrm.
That was the term for what Dirk was becoming.
At the beginning of time, Caelus the Maker had cast some of his precious stars from the sky to seed the world with magic and dragons.
There were wise gold dragons and headstrong red dragons and prankster green dragons.
Moody black dragons and joyful blue dragons and the (most commonly white) luck dragons from the mists of Tianzi.
They all had purpose, all a different magic to share with the world to keep it in balance.
For one gold dragon, it wasn’t enough. He wanted dominion over the earth, not balance.
The legends were unclear if it was greed or pride or anger that drove him to rise up against Caelus, but the legends were all in agreement about the result of that failed uprising: Caelus stripped him of his beautiful golden scales and his strong wings to eke out a living as a blind, ugly wretch in caves and other subterranean dwellings away from the blessed sky. A wyrm.
And, as a warning to all other dragons, Caelus cursed them to the same fate should they ever try to disrupt that balance ever again.
What that slim leather-bound book, as well as the rest of the literary works in the restricted section had failed to note, was what disrupted that balance.
“I don’t see why this is restricted information,” Millie groused when Dirk had finished telling them absolutely everything, despite Renaldo’s warning.
He was done keeping secrets from his friends.
“So what if wyrms were once dragons? Are the dragons worried the humans will hold them responsible for the destruction wyrms cause?”
“The last wyrm who came to the surface did more damage than the last century’s worth of Great Reds combined,” Bradley pointed out.
“You know how humans are—they want someone to blame and someone to make reparations. If it all could’ve been avoided by the dragons taking the initiative and disposing of one of their own. . .” He shrugged.
“Dragons don’t kill each other,” Dirk said vehemently. “And I think it has to do with the nature of a dragon’s heart.”
He rolled an eye up at Bradley, as if asking for permission, or a blessing to reveal the secret they had kept from Millie all this time.
The apprentice nodded.
“A dragon’s heart is where our magic lives,” Dirk said.
“A luck dragon’s heart, in particular, is very special, Millie.
It is not full of elemental magic like fire or water or anything like that.
It is the magic of destiny, of the universe, of all the little threads that connect our lives together.
It’s very strong magic, and the excess manifests as luck. ”
“What a wonderful gift you have, Master Dirk,” Millie said. “You must be very proud.”
He shook his head. “My heart can change lives, Millie. Alter the course of history.”
The princess stilled as she recalled the history lessons of her youth. “Huang Fu was a luck dragon who cursed Leighton centuries ago. Are you saying your heart can lift that curse?”
“Only if it’s cut out of me and buried in the ground. But imagine what my heart could do if it were buried in a prosperous land?”
“This is why you wouldn’t tell me before,” she gasped, looking between the two of them. “You thought I’d exploit Dirk’s heart to make Amberly rich and powerful beyond measure?”
“You were a princess, Millie.” Bradley’s tone was unapologetic. “Presumably conceited, selfish, and greedy. We didn’t know you’d be, well, you.”
“That’s fair, however insulting. And irrelevant to the subject. Dirk,” she said, voice low and serious, “how long does it take for a dragon’s heart to lose its potency after the dragon dies?”
“I think the real question is, what happens to the corrupted heart of a wyrm?”
“Dark magic.” Bradley barely remembered to tightened his grip on Dirk’s horn so he wouldn’t slide off his back in shock. “Are you saying dark magic entered this world because someone got their hands on a wyrm’s heart?”
Dirk winced. “Maybe? The books didn’t say. But it’s not a hard guess to make. Corrupted hearts, corrupted magic.”
“If people knew that, they’d hunt those wyrms down and use that magic against their enemies. You know how humans are,” Millie echoed Bradley. She gave Dirk’s scales a firm pat. “Well that’s not happening to you, Master Dirk. What did the books say about reversing this?”
He stifled a sob. “They didn’t. I lose my scales, my feathers, my life in the sky.”
“I don’t accept that. And neither does Bradley. Right?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Bradley pinched her. Not hard, but she still swatted him back.
“Bradley”—Dirk was sniveling now—“I don’t want to be wyrm.”
“We’ll find a way to reverse this Dirk, you have my word. Whatever it takes. I’ll have to ask Master Excelsior for help, and I’ll take whatever punishment he metes out.”
“I know our time in the tower is nearly at its end,” Millie added, “and when it is, I will return to Amberly and confront the dragons about this directly.”
“But they’ll just put you under castle arrest and turn you back into a princess,” Dirk protested. “You’ll never become a pirate!”
“Yes I will. Just not right now. And this is more important, so don’t argue with me.” She kicked him lightly with her heels to drive home her point.
“O-okay.”
After Dirk homed in on the enchanted mongoose turd and unearthed the dune skiff, he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
It had taken six indurus spells to make the crossing, and Bradley and Millie shared a look that said they hoped the desert winds would be strong enough to get them back to the tower without the little dragon’s help.
When Bradley offered to take the first shift, Millie stuffed the Mini Red into the cargo net and joined Bradley at the wishbone boom.
She slipped into the cage of his arms, but there was no sensuality about it.
The princess was all business. As the skiff slipped across the moonlit dunes, the wind muffled their discussion.
“There has to be a way to reverse this,” she snapped, though her heat wasn’t directed at him.
“Your curse, his curse, they can all be broken. Like everything, there is always a beginning. A pivotal point in time that leads to all the other cascading events. Dirk said the curse can activate without the dragon knowing, that the effects take a while to manifest. He didn’t start losing his scales until after you arrived at the tower.
So what happened before that? If we can pinpoint that, understand that, then we have a good chance of directing our efforts. ”
Bradley was quiet for a time, mulling over the entirety of his friendship with the little luck dragon.
The most recent months composed the bulk of his memories, and he knew what they held—failed potions experiments, extortion schemes, hours spent with the books, that whirlwind of a princess—so he searched further back to their days at the College.
A mated pair of luck dragons from Tianzi had agreed to assist the sorcerers on an expedition through the mists in exchange for watching over their brood—Dirk and his littermates.
The baby luck dragons were perfectly at home amongst the lakes and rivers of Bellafont and loved the storms that rolled across the valleys from the mountains.
And, as they were curious creatures, they loved exploring the magic of the humans.
Often they peered through the classroom windows at the students, or whizzed through the dining hall, and all of them gathered to watch the up-and-coming war mages practice their techniques.
All of them were white-scaled with pearlescent feathers and golden horns and claws. All except one.
Lung Shang.
Bradley hadn’t paid much mind to the strangely colored luck dragon, or any of the others, for that matter. His focus was on discovering what his newly awoken wild magic could do. And challenging authority.
Yet amidst those days, there was one afternoon that proved fateful for the both of them, though Bradley hadn’t realized it until now.
Rejected from the classroom for disrupting the professor’s lecture—again—Bradley found himself on the wrought-iron bench outside the dean’s office. The dean was currently occupied, so Bradley had to wait for his scolding. In the rain.
The rain didn’t bother him like it did the other students—he’d spent his whole life more wet than dry as a fisherman on the Cut.
In fact, he was grinning. He couldn’t wait to see the look on the dean’s face when he traipsed into the office soaked and pooling water on the rug after being told “not to move so much as an inch” from that spot on the bench.
And Bradley wouldn’t have moved from that spot had he not heard a soft weeping above the storm. Following the sound, he crossed the gravel path and ventured into the lilac shrubs that bordered the campus lake.
The rain had pulled the weaker lilac blooms from their branches, and spots of purple mottled the green grass everywhere. Where the shrubs grew tall and dense, little alcoves of dry patches could be found, and Bradley expected to find the weeping creature in such a place.
But it wasn’t there. It was on the grassy banks of the lake, sitting on his rear haunches with his head thrown back and bawling into the rain.
His heart constricted in his chest at the rawness of the grief before him. The rain muffled Bradley’s approach until he was within an arm’s length of the little luck dragon.
“Why are you crying?” he asked. “I thought all luck dragons loved the rain.”
The luck dragon choked on his sob, golden eyes widening with embarrassment and fear. He sprang into the air, and Bradley threw up his hands.
“No! I’m sorry. Please stay. I’ll go. I just heard you crying and . . .” Bradley shrugged shoulders heavy with sodden robe.