Hello readers! This is an archival post, collecting all four parts of the Axtara side story, A Trial For a Dragon into one easy to peruse web address for maximum viewing ease. You know, short of an ebook or paperback release.
You’re not here for navel-gazing, though. You’re here for Ryax and his quest to become the first dragon wizard. So without further ado, here is the entire story, start to finish. Enjoy! And if you love the adventure, and this is your first exposure to the world of Axtara, head on over to the books page and pick up a copy of Axtara – Banking and Finance to see where it all began!
A Trial for a Dragon
Part One
It’s not hard to see why Rietillia considers itself the “crown jewel” of the kingdoms, Ryax thought, his wings extended in a lazy glide. It really is as beautiful as it claims to be. Beneath him stretched endless rolling hills, rising and falling over one another in gentle green and brown waves. Each was dotted with workers, tending to the carefully cultivated crops that were the kingdom’s livelihood.
It’s like looking at a painting. The undulating rows of green gave way to a sinuous stone road, and he beat his wings slightly as the ground neared. A faint breeze made itself known, stirring up circling drifts of warm, spice-scented air tinged with reddish dust. Nearby travelers, also heading to and from the capital, looked over and then up in surprise as he braced himself for impact.
A final beat of his wings with a quick twitch of his tail for balance adjustment, and his paws touched down atop the warm stone in a smooth, easy landing. From here, he would walk to Avnivaria. It would be a change of pace from the fairly lazy glides he’d been able to use for most of the morning, but it was better than flying over a busy capital looking for a clear landing space that wouldn’t have issues with a dragon dropping down in the middle of it.
He gave the closest travelers to him a friendly nod, one of them sneezing at the dust his landing had churned up but still offering a friendly roll of the head in return before continuing on their way.
Well, that’s a good sign. The Bad Days were over half a century gone, but civilization had a long memory. The fact that no one had run away screaming when he’d come in for a landing was certainly a mark in the city’s favor.
Then again, it’s a capital, the “crown jewel of the kingdoms.” One would hope they’d be used to dragons. Blessed with rich, fertile soil and a mild climate, Rietillia had made its fortunes through vast crops of spices, wines, and fruit orchards, all of which were shipped across the kingdoms and even across the Scented Ocean. The resplendent wealth received for its goods had given rise to the saying that even the poorest farmhand in Rietillia was wealthier than a lesser noble in one of the other kingdoms.
From what I’ve seen so far I cannot disagree, Ryax thought as he made his way down the winding road. The travelers around him, though mostly on foot and heading for one of the side entrances to the capital as he was, were still well-dressed and healthy looking. One wore a royal coat that wouldn’t have been out of place on a duke elsewhere, but the callused nature of his hands and the wooden crate he held between them certainly would have.
No wonder uncle opened his bank in Delaria. Their borders flush with Rietillia, Delaria’s position as a central trade hub was only enhanced by such close proximity to wealthy spice magnates. Rietillian nobles could easily wend between the rolling hills by wagon, or ship their wares up the slow, lazy Tavinari river off somewhere to his right, hidden behind the hills. He’d followed its winding blue ribbon for hundreds of miles since leaving Delaria the day before, constantly amazed by the volume of trade barges making their way up and down its length.
And then there’s that railway being laid … He took another deep breath, looking up and relishing the mélange of scents mixing in the air. A clear blue sky with only a few wisps of cloud and a faint, gentle breeze. Beneath him the stone road began to climb upwards, slowly winding its way around the side of a hill. A good sign of things to come, I hope. As tantalizing as the spices were in his nostrils—almost enough to make his stomach growl after such a long flight—neither they nor the monetary riches were why he’d come to the Rietillian capital.
He’d come in pursuit of an entirely different sort of riches: Knowledge. Avnivaria was home to more than just spice merchants and a thousand different varieties of wine. It was also home to another organization, the only of its kind in the kingdoms.
The Council of Wizards. The highest, most respected, and only official organization of magic users across the entirety of the kingdoms. Headed by a council of fifteen senior members, each experienced and well-learned in the ways of magic.
Additionally, they were the final adjudicators of whether any apprentice such as Ryax would be able to truly lay claim to the title of “wizard.”
Once per year the council opened its doors to apprentices who wished to earn the title. They would meet one by one with those who believed they were ready, read their letters of recommendation from a tutor or teacher, and test them on their knowledge of magic. Some would be turned away, but a select few—a prepared few—would be accepted by the greatest known gathering of magical knowledge and receive the title of wizard.
And this year, I will be among them. It was time. Fifteen years of careful study under a multitude of wizards across the kingdoms, summing preparation, research, and studied practice. Theory and lore from Frederico Adernat of Sicaria, with a small bit of practical shaping. Elvoto taught me how to shape that theory and practice into spells. Sel Utari showed me how to look past the theory, past the basics … Into the deeper lore and energies of magic itself that coursed through the world, and how to put that knowledge into practice. And Uxul Azul, the different branches of study. Taking what he had already known and opening his view even further, showing how spells could be approached from multiple sides and directions.
He’d even spent the last year apprenticed to Ava Hendle, a potioneer and alchemist of some renown, who had been delighted to see that a prospective wizard was interested in learning ways that magic interacted with the world beyond traditional spellshaping or casting.
All of them had, when asked, given him letters of recommendation to the council. Each of them had been impressed with his dedication to the craft. All, in one way or another, had urged him to fly to Avnivaria and put his name forward during the yearly judging.
To become a wizard. And not just any wizard, either. Wizards aplenty were human, but a dragon? There had never been one before. Which wasn’t too surprising. A hundred years back dragons had lived mostly outside civilization, kidnapping nobles for gold or squabbling among themselves.
Then gunpowder had entered the equation, and suddenly any lone human with a musket could deliver a scale-shattering blow. Dragons had been forced to make a truce, becoming part of society rather than preying on it.
Now father is a courier, uncle owns one of the largest Delarian banks in Helmson. Finix owns an orchard. And Axtara … His sister had gone west, out to the outskirts of the kingdoms to found a bank of her own.
And I am going to become a wizard. A faint, thrilling tingle rushed through him, from the base of his horns all the way down to the tip of his tail. His insides fluttered in response, as if he were about to fly through a large storm.
Stop that, he chided himself. You’re a grown drake, and you’ve studied magic probably twice as long as most of the other apprentices coming to earn their titles this week. You’ll be fine.
But the nervousness didn’t leave. It persisted, like a distant storm hanging on the horizon, a specter no matter where he looked.
Relax. The road meandered on, down another winding slope. You’ve got this. You know the rules, you know the laws. Of which, he’d discovered with his second apprenticeship, there were fewer than most thought. In fact, the only solid law that seemed to be completely unalterable was that magic could not be created from nothing. No matter the spell, large or small, energy needed to be expended, either from the world around it, a source, or the caster.
But other rules were more often like imprecise guidelines, restrictions only put in place by the way one approached the magic. Evi Natabask’s History of the Arcane was well respected, but had made a number of sweeping declarations about magic being either possible or impossible that were entirely the result of the numeric approach she’d used in shaping her spells. Her writings had even gone so far as to accuse other wizards of the time as charlatans over differing techniques.
Granted, the world had been different then. Less connected. Books had been written by quill rather than printed, making them even more of a prize than they currently were.
Things had changed. The world had grown smaller. Knowledge was at the forefront of the rising changes.
And I will soar above that forefront, he thought as the walls of Avnivaria neared. All I need is the title.
Once he had that, doors would open. Patronage. Royal grants. He could go further with his studies than he ever could have on his own. I could take a court position, or study the ancient ruins, perhaps find if they’re truly connected to the fell. Or—
There were so many possibilities, all just out of reach for a magic practitioner with no title or official recognition.
I’ll get it, he thought as he passed through the open gate, stepping into the city outskirts and taking it in. Avnivaria was built on the same hills he’d been flying over for hours, and its white-and-blue coloration made it appear as if the entire city was a series of rolling, cresting waves. Here and there other spots of color stood out, but much of it was white stone, with the royal family’s blue serving only as a complement.
The end result, from the white gleaming domes to the crystal blue canals that cut through the lower areas, was truly spectacular. I guess I could have flown closer, he thought as he made his way through the busy streets. Seen this from the air.
Another time, perhaps. For now, he needed to find the council and present himself to whoever was taking names for the trials. Then an inn, someplace to rest and clean his scales of the dust he’d acquired during his travel.
The city bustled around him, and he kept his wings folded tightly against his back to avoid bumping anyone. Everyone seemed to have a place to be, some rushing to and fro, others hawking wares from carts or stalls or even just performing in small squares or by fountains, strumming at stringed instruments and singing in old languages to small crowds. Some vendors were selling foods and spices, thin-pounded breads fried and filled with something that made his stomach growl. But he pushed on.
Thankfully, even before he’d made it to the main roads he found magically-illuminated signs pointing him in the direction of the council. A variation on Parniacles’ light spell, I believe, he thought, examining the glow of their magic. And not too surprising, I suppose. The trials are held only once a year, so it must be something of an occurrence for the city. Block by block he followed their trail, and before long a plaza rose before him that could only be his destination.
His first impression was its sheen, the white-and-blue marble so bright and clean that magic had to be the source. High, graceful arches climbed into the sky above elaborate stained glass windows, backing grounds filled with fountains and carefully shaped topiary. Some of the fountains were quite openly defying gravity, streams of water running up rather than down. One even wound around in a spiral, circling back in on itself before falling to the pool below.
Someone behind him shouted something, and he started as he realized he’d been blocking traffic. A quick apology seemed to satisfy the man, and he moved forward once more, walking up to the front gate and noting that while it looked to be hanging above the crowd at an impossible angle, there was no magic involved at all, just clever engineering.
It was, however, wide open, and he walked onto the grounds, again pushing down a faint flutter of nervous energy.
Relax. He could see several people tending to the grounds, and for a brief moment he wondered if they were wizards or just attendants hired to care for things. But if they’re the latter, who pays for them?
He moved past the fountains, somewhat tempted to stick out a wing and give his scales a slight wash. Dust from traveling had left them with a slightly reddish coloration, which didn’t at all mesh with his natural darker blue. But … I don’t think I’ll be appearing before the council today. If I am to do so, I’m certain they’d allow me time to clean from my travels.
The pathway guided him to a set of stone steps beneath a wide, grand doorway that had been left open. Words had been carved above the doorframe, and he paused for a moment to read them.
The Rietillian Council of Wizards. I’m finally here! He made his way up the steps, placing each paw with care, as they were sized for bipeds rather than a quadruped of his size.
A large, well-lit entryway stood before him, clean and crisp. He could see only four exits counting his own, but the ornate nature of the door at the back meant it was likely the entrance to the council chambers. Off to his left a bored-looking, white-haired human woman sat behind a desk, and he didn’t need the sign that said “Apprentices Here” to know that she was who he needed to speak with. He stepped forward, stopping just shy of the desk and waiting for her acknowledgement.
“Delivering or picking up?” she asked, looking up, and for a moment the question made him pause.
“I’m sorry?”
“Delivery or picking up?” she asked again, nodding in the direction of the satchel on his chest.
“Oh,” he said quickly. An honest mistake. “Neither, actually. I’m here for the trials. Ryax the Dedicated.”
The woman’s eyes widened slightly, the look of boredom leaving her face. “You?”
“Yes. Why? Is there an issue?”
She recovered quickly, he had to give her that. “No, no,” she said, shaking her head and reaching for the scrolls on her desk. “My apologies, it’s been a long day, and for a moment I thought you were someone else.”
“Well,” he said, giving her a faint smile. “I do look a bit like my father, and he serves as a royal courier on occasion.”
“Yes!” The aide seemed all too eager for the open sky he’d offered. “That must be it. I merely assumed—My apologies. No offense meant.” She uncorked a bottle of ink, dipping a quill in it with one hand while spreading a scroll covered in names and columns with the other.
“None taken.”
“Right.” She looked up at him once more. “So you’re here for … the trials?”
“Yes.” Again his response seemed to catch her slightly by surprise, but … The first dragon. “Have you seen many other apprentices yet?”
“A few.” She glanced down at her list. “Most arrive to put their name on the list after the trials start, so how early would you like to meet with the council?”
“How early?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m doing this out of order. I’m all out of sorts today. Before we set a time and day for your trial, we need to confirm that you’ve been recommended. Do you have your letter of recommendation?”
“Which one?” he asked, noting with suppressed glee the way her brow sharply rose at his statement. “I have five.”
“You have five letters of recommendation?”
“Of course.” He smiled, leaning back slightly so that he could open his satchel. “Frederico Adernat, Uxul Azul, Ava Hendle, Sel Utari, and Elvoto of Elmsbridge,” he said, naming each as he pulled their letters out. Each was sealed, both with wax bearing their symbol and a spell that would identify the writer when broken. Since the spell was attached to the paper, one couldn’t easily modify the contents without disrupting it.
“I … Could you please give me a moment?” The woman opened a large ledger atop her desk, revealing row after row of names. “The first one was Frederico Adernat?” He nodded, and she flipped through the pages, settling on one about halfway through and running her finger down a list of names.
“Found him,” she said, her finger coming to a halt. “All right, and now … One moment … Split the lot, this is going to be tricky.”
“Can I help?”
“Well, normally when an apprentice arrives, they give the name of the wizard they trained under, I verify that name in the ledger, then write that name next to the appointment as well as note it in the ledger for our own records. But in your case, with five names …” She took a deep breath and shook her head, white hairs splaying in sharp contrast across the tanned tones of her face. “Perhaps we should pick a time for your trial, and then we can see about sorting each of your teachers? How soon would you like your trial to begin?”
“Is there anything available tomorrow?”
“Well, most apprentices prefer to be near the end of the trials,” she said quickly. “To give them extra time to prepare. Those who meet earlier typically cannot afford to stay in the city long, or don’t wish to endure the anticipation. So there are several scheduled for tomorrow, but also openings you could accept. That would give you an evening to clean up from your travels.”
He gave his wings a slight shake. “It is noticeable, isn’t it? But yes, that will be fine. What do you have?”
“There’s an opening right at midday,” she said.
“That would do perfectly.”
“Very well. Spell your name, please?” He did so, and she carefully copied it down, writing Frederico’s name next to it. She then copied his name into the ledger, flipped to another page, and wrote it down again.
Finally, once each of the names had been recorded in both places, she gave him a smile and closed the ledger. “So a dragon who wants to become a wizard? If you don’t mind indulging my curiosity, how did that come about?”
“Oh, likely the same—” He caught himself. “Well no, not the same. I doubt many would-be wizards started studying magic by experimenting with their own fire. But I would imagine the result was similar. I became curious how I could perform tricks with it, and progressed from there.”
“And that led you to study under five different wizards?”
“I enjoyed learning the different techniques and approaches. There’s always something new to explore.” He motioned to the letters. “Do I keep those?”
“Yes, you do,” she said, passing them. “Is magic really that different?”
“Oh yes!” he said quickly. “And how you approach a spell may make some things work one way, but not another. I apologize for not asking, but are you a wizard?”
She let out a laugh. “No, not yet. Maybe someday. I’m councilmember Hyal’s apprentice. Shanlee. Shanlee Oau.”
“Ryax. It’s a pleasure to meet you. If I might ask, what is it like to be apprenticed to one of the council wizards?”
A look flashed over her face, so quick that he almost missed it, one he couldn’t quite read but was almost … constrained? “It’s fine,” she said. “It’s not entirely what I expected, but he’s a very busy man.”
Ah. Perhaps it would have been better not to say anything. Especially after she just learned that I apprenticed under five. “Well, I hope you learn much,” he said, hoping it would smooth the rough winds he had just stirred. “I shall return shortly before midday tomorrow. If I could take a little more of your time, do you know of any lodgings nearby worth recommending? With a bath? And meals?”
Shanlee’s face brightened. “Well, you could always swim in the canal. It’s allowed, so long as you don’t pollute it. But there’s a nice inn several hills south of here and across the river that should have proper accommodations.”
A minute later he bid Shanlee farewell and left the council chambers, following her directions. He found the inn she’d recommended without much difficulty, a large establishment at the bottom of a hill, and secured a sizable room as well as a hot bath and meal. Belly full and scales cleaned, he retired to his room, leaving a notice with the innkeeper that he wished to be awakened before the second bell the next morning.
The rest of the night passed in careful study, a final summary review of everything he could perceive the council questioning him on. Five letters was exemplary, but the council tested candidates regardless, and he would need to provide evidence that his approval was well placed. The midnight bell had just rung when he finally extinguished the light spell he’d been reading by and curled up atop a large pad, ready to sleep.
Tomorrow would be the final test. The trial. Sleep came, but not easily.
Part Two
By the time one of the inn’s employees arrived the next morning to signal second bell, Ryax was already awake, making last-minute preparations. Twice someone checked on him afterwards, curious about the source of the rapid-tapping they’d heard against the floorboards, and he’d stilled his claws until—engrossed in his studies—he’d forgotten and begun the whole process over.
However, he wasn’t so engrossed that time entirely slipped past him, and he arrived on the promenade before the council chambers with a quarter hour to spare.
At least it’s a beautiful morning. The sky was clear and bright, a little more clouded than the day before but still not nearly enough to hide the warm blue. Maybe a celebratory flight would be in order after his trial.
If it turns out—No, it will! You know everything you possibly could know. Three wizards have declared you overly prepared! This will be easy!
The mental reassurance didn’t drive the clenching nervousness from his gut, though. Or stave off the occasional tremor in his wings. He walked around the grounds, noting the individuals dressed in blue-and-white livery tending to them.
Odd, he thought as he passed one. Aren’t those the colors of the royal family?
Maybe there was a subtle difference he was missing. Something to do with symbols or patterns on their coats. There was a nation across the Scented Ocean that was like that, where the color was unimportant but the type of stitching used in the cloth denoted one’s rank and station.
The midday bell surely had to be getting close. How long had he been walking the grounds? He hurried over to the front steps and then slowed to a stop, checking himself to make sure that he was presentable.
Scales shined? Breath freshened? Nothing stuck in my teeth? Satchel? He’d debated over wearing some finery, a ruff or some jewelry, but ultimately decided against it. Good. Clean but humble.
His wings and tail were both trembling with nervous excitement, and he forced them to be still, making his way carefully up the steps. Rietillian Council of Wizards. The words above the frame seemed to bear a weight. The passage was again open, and as he made his way through a familiar face looked up from the desk.
“Ryax … the Dedicated?”
“Yes,” he said, bowing his head slightly at Shanlee, which seemed to both please and embarrass her. “I’m not late, I hope?”
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “You are—” Her eyes darted to a nearby timepiece. “—early. They’re still in recess after meeting the last candidate.”
“Ah, good. I didn’t spend too much time walking the grounds.”
She shook her head once more. “No, you still have time. In a moment I’ll let them know that you’ve arrived.”
“Have there been many other trials today?”
“Only two thus far,” she said, tapping one finger atop the desk. “Letter of—” She caught herself. “Letters of recommendation, please?”
He obliged, opening his small satchel. “Have any passed?”
“None.” A shiver ran through his wings, and she cringed. “Sorry, that was indelicate.”
“But only two have arrived for their trial,” he said. “Two failures isn’t enough to predict an entire day’s worth.”
“Very true,” she said as she took the letters from his claws. “And neither of them was half as prepared as you are. One of them hadn’t even trained under a wizard. Just a former apprentice.” She rose, pushing her chair back with a faint scrape. “I’ll let them know you’re here.”
She walked over to the rearmost doors in the room, the ornate ones he’d singled out the day before, giving them a quiet knock and then slipping inside.
Ornate, but not large, he noted. He would be forced to duck through them with his wings held tight, unless …
I suppose it cannot hurt to begin with a display of skill, he thought as the door cracked open again, Shanlee darting through as if something were nipping at her heels, skirt swirling around her. She wasn’t clad in the same livery of those working the grounds, he noted, neither color nor style matching. Interesting. But then again, she is apprenticed to one of the council wizards.
“You may enter,” Shanlee said, sitting at her desk once more. She no longer had the letters. “They’re ready for you.”
He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a moment and slowly exhaling, willing himself to relax. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling. “And … good luck.”
He stepped over to the doors, already holding a spell in his mind and willing the magic out into the space around his body. The world appeared to warp slightly, growing larger, though to an outsider it would have appeared that he’d grown smaller. From behind him he heard a gasp.
“Did you just shrink yourself with a spell?”
He stopped and twisted his head, looking back past his wings at Shanlee’s wide eyes. “No,” he said, smiling. “I merely convinced space that I am smaller than I am.”
Shanlee’s expression switched to one of puzzlement. “Is there a difference?”
His smile widened. “Of course!” With that, he turned and stepped into the council chambers, the doors swinging shut behind him.
At first glance the chambers themselves weren’t too impressive. The room was wide and circular, the floor made of stone. It smelled faintly of soot, and he could see a few scorch marks in the center, perhaps from earlier trials. Lights high above filled the space with a soft glow while all around him, backed by tall windows and sitting at a raised dais that ringed the room, were the council. Fifteen of the most respected wizards in the empires, clad in formal wear of all colors and style.
A number of them were talking with one another, their voices adding a faint, whispering ambiance to the room. Several looked up at him as he entered, but then quickly went back to speaking among their neighbors, so he took a moment as he walked forward to take each of them in.
Some of them he recognized, if only by reputation. Ava had always told him that Jacopo’s beard was a sight to behold, and that easily narrowed his identity to two of the wizards on the council, both with beards so long that they vanished behind the dais. Sel had declared Councilmember Sanyu proud of his ancient heritage, and that marked him as the wizard with pointed ears on obvious display. Flashes of bronze caught his eye, from tiny plaques embedded in the dais before each councilmember.
They’re facing outward, so they can’t be to identify their seats, but they’re so small anyone that they were speaking with probably wouldn’t be able to read them. Is that intentional?
He stopped in the middle of the room, unsure of where to look but settling for reading each of the tiny plaques, finding both Jacopo and Sanyu, as well as Hyal, Shanlee’s teacher, a thin-faced individual with what looked like a permanent frown. He scanned through the rest of the council wizards, waiting to be addressed and noting one detail.
They were all human, though of varying backgrounds. Nine men, six women.
One cleared his throat, looking right at Ryax. “Well?” the wizard asked, giving him a pointed, but almost bored, look. “Get on with it, beast. Who’s the message for? We don’t have all day.”
He felt a faint flash of discomfort at the term beast but ignored it, sitting back on his haunches instead. “I am not a courier. I am Ryax the Dedicated. I am here for my trial.”
The whispered conversation cut out.
“Excuse me?” the wizard asked, cocking his head slightly to one side. “You said you’re Ryax?”
“Impossible,” another wizard said, his voice echoing through the room. “You can’t be Ryax. Quit wasting our time, dragon, and deliver your message. Is this Ryax running late?”
“He can’t be running late,” another wizard pointed out. “Hyal’s apprentice just brought his letters in and informed us that he was here.”
“I am here,” Ryax said, fighting to keep his wings still as he spoke. For added effect he dismissed the spell he’d used to enter the room, the world around him shifting slightly as the universe saw him properly once more. Several of the wizards pulled back in surprise. Even with that aspect of space stabilized, the plaques he’d seen were still too small. “I am ready for my trial.”
“I believe he’s telling the truth,” said another councilmember. “What reason would he have to lie?”
“But a dragon?”
“It is unusual.”
“It’s a foolish joke is what it is. Little wonder we have not heard from Sel in almost a decade if this is the sort of pupil she sends us.”
“Councilmembers!” The raised voice from one of the wizards called the room to silence, and five familiar-looking pieces of paper floated into the air above the wizard’s head. “Regardless, I have examined the letters. Each of them is genuine. Ryax the Dedicated has been presented to the council by no less than five of our fellow wizards as a candidate for the trials. And we have already accepted—” Ryax didn’t miss the emphasis put on the words. “—that candidacy.”
“I’ll need to have words with my apprentice,” Hyal muttered, quietly enough that he likely thought Ryax hadn’t heard.
“Oh very well,” the first wizard said. The one who had referred to him as a “beast.” “If we must.”
“We must,” the prior wizard said again. “But rather than argue semantics, perhaps we should test this apprentice’s skill and knowledge of magic? After all, this is a trial of Ryax’s skill and knowledge. Let us see what would cause Elvoto of Elmsbridge to speak in such glowing terms.”
“Very well,” another wizard said, and he couldn’t tell if their tone was approving or disappointed. “I’ll begin. A moment ago you shifted size. What sort of spell was that? Explain it.”
Time passed quickly as he was questioned from every side, asked to recite increasingly esoteric arcane principles, and perform spell after spell by each of the council members. Sometimes they would stay on a single subject, quizzing him on every aspect and angle. Other times they would change topics without warning, leaping from illusions to biology and asking entirely new questions far-ranging from the old ones.
He answered increasingly difficult hypotheticals, members calling on him to answer what he would do if asked to find a missing child using only magic, or how he would respond if asked to craft a spell to project a message to a far-off individual.
He felt wrung out by the time Shanlee entered to warn the council that their next appointment had arrived, as if he’d been caught flying in a heavy storm and chosen to power through it rather than do the sensible thing and land. His head hurt, he was tired, and his whole body felt lethargic from casting after casting. He had to look exhausted, even as hard as he was trying to appear ready to continue.
“Well,” one of the wizards said as Ryax finished demonstrating Gandriarch’s Principles of Levitation with a series of weights. “Members of the council, I believe we have quite thoroughly put young Ryax through his paces. What do we think?”
“I think he displays an impressive aptitude for magical control,” one wizard said, leaning forward in her seat. Ryax felt his spirits lift slightly. “But that could simply be by his very nature as a dragon. Impressive, but I remain unconvinced.”
Don’t let them see your disappointment. She had, he recalled, been one of the wizards that had asked some of the more difficult questions of him. Maybe she’s simply stern.
“Really?” one of the other wizards contested. “Because I’m impressed. Few apprentices submitting themselves to a trial would be able to so thoroughly explain the differences between Adricarle’s approach to basic spellwork and Nivian’s.”
“You just think that because you’ve never respected Nivian,” one of the other wizards shot back. “His answer was a joke. Refused.”
It was as if the woman’s words were a spark, as each of the wizards began arguing amongst one another, voices raised as they contested that he should be admitted, refused, or some other option entirely. Ryax felt his tail curl slightly as the arguments rose in volume. Is this how they always are with their decisions?
Or is it simply because I’m not human? It hadn’t been hard to note that many of the more difficult questions, demands for a demonstration, or abrupt changes in topic had come from the wizard that had called him a beast when he’d first entered, or those that seemed to agree with him.
“Silence!” A loud crack accompanied the shout, debate dying as the sound echoed through the chamber. One of the wizards stood, the same one who’d handled his letters earlier. He glanced at their plaque.
Soban.
“Thank you,” Soban said once the noise had died down. “If I may, I’d like to ask one more question of this apprentice before we render a decision, if a consensus can be reached at this time.” He turned his focus toward Ryax. “Why do you wish to be recognized as a wizard?”
“To study magic,” he said quickly, the answer already on the tip of his tongue. “Not as an apprentice does, or as some minor fascination or dalliance, but as a complete, serious, lifetime of work. To dig deep into the magical mysteries of the world. I’ve been entranced by magic ever since I could breathe fire. How does it function? What makes a spell work in one way but not another? Why, for example, does ascribing numbers to a matrix impact some approaches but not all?”
“Furthermore,” he continued. “I am most intrigued by the magic of the ancients, or what little of it is left. How did their spells function differently from ours? What differences have we learned based on how we were taught, and how does that impact what we are capable of? Can magic be used in new ways? Are there fundamental theories that we can explore in new ways? Or that we haven’t even discovered yet?”
“I want to be able to travel the empires and study.” He spread his wings slightly, pulling himself up to his full height. “To see how one small practitioner somewhere may perform the same kind of magic in a completely different manner from a fully-recognized wizard, or even another like them in a different location. To bridge the gaps in magical knowledge, or perhaps discover new branches we’ve yet to find.”
The faces around him had taken on a curious cast. A few looked interested in his words. Several looked confused. But more looked … unhappy, the very expressions enough to make him feel as though he needed to flap his wings to keep himself aloft. He drove onward.
“There’s so much to magic that we don’t know. We have books, yes, but the combined writings of all known wizards would only fill a few bookshelves at most. That cannot be the sum total of knowledge of magic, and we know that it is not, because there’s so much we do not understand.”
“Magic,” one of the wizards said, her voice loud and low. “Is not supposed to be understood. It is magic.”
He took a gamble, turning to face her. “And yet we write down what we understand of it anyway,” he countered. “We learn new ways of making it work, of using those energies in the world to further our own goals. Steam power, and the trains that now stretch across the lands, are not possible without an understanding of magic. Such progress implies that there is more to learn, more to know.”
The wizard who had spoken had a sour expression now, like she’d bitten a rotten apple. “I disagree,” she said simply, before sitting and continuing to scowl.
He needed to keep the momentum going. Needed to stay airborne. “Wizards of the council, there is always more to learn, more to discover. Earning the title of wizard will open many doors to me that would otherwise be shut. The title of wizard invites patronage, it adds legitimate, recognized authority to one’s works and findings. I have spent my past years studying under a series of successive and well-regarded wizards, learning all that I could from them in the pursuit of unlocking further mysteries of magic, or perhaps even finding a few new ones. I ask that I be granted the title of wizard in recognition of my efforts and my accomplishments, that I may be able to continue advancing the knowledge of wizards and magic users everywhere.”
His last choice of words, he noted, seemed to have rubbed a few of the councilmembers the wrong way, but it was too late to call them back. Several other members, however, were nodding, if not in agreement with everything he’d said, then at least some sort of grudging respect.
It was the wizard that had called him “beast” who spoke first. “Denied.”
“You don’t have that authority alone, Pinel,” another councilmember shot back. “I’m not convinced, but I’m not so eager to—”
“Admit a dragon?” another councilmember said. It was Hyal, Shanlee’s master.
“His knowledge of magical theory is impressive.”
“Anyone can be trained to provide the right answers.”
“As intensely as we questioned him? And with examples? Hogath, if it were your own student, you’d have—”
“Enough!” Another crack rent the air, again from Soban’s position. “I have the floor.” He waited until all conversation had died, then turned his eyes toward Ryax.
“Apprentice Ryax the Dedicated,” he said. “It appears that at this time the Rietillian Council of Wizards has not reached a conclusion. This is not unprecedented. Therefore, we ask that you return tomorrow, in order to give us time to conduct the remainder of today’s trials and deliberate amongst ourselves concerning yours. Speak with the apprentice outside. If necessary, have her reschedule someone else’s trial. You may leave.”
He bowed slightly, heart sinking but not dropping. “Thank you, councilmembers.” The room stayed silent as he turned and walked to the doors, pausing before the door to once again apply the same spell he had before, convincing the world that he was smaller than he was and stepping through.
A human woman on the other side of the doors stepped back in surprise as he passed through the doorway, her eyes widening.
“My apologies,” he said, inclining his head slightly at her. “If you’re here for your trial, I may have kept you from it.” She was tall for a human, almost as tall as he was with the spatial readjustment applied.
“She is, but she’s early,” Shanlee said from the desk. She rose from her seat, a letter in one hand. “Well, what’d—?” She shook her head. “One moment. I need to announce Aryanna to the council.” She stepped through the doorway, shutting both doors behind her.
“Excuse me, Aryanna,” Ryax said, stepping past the woman, who was still giving him a wide-eyed look. Not familiar with dragons then. He dropped the spatial spell as soon as there was sufficient room, the world around him warping once more.
He felt exhausted. The spatial distortion spell wasn’t easy to perform, and twice in one day was taxing. Especially after my trial. Part of him wanted to simply drop his carefully held posture and slump to the floor, but …
Not until I’m off the grounds, he thought as the doors to the chambers opened once more, Shanlee stepping up to the woman and politely ushering her inside. Only once the doors were shut did she turn and look at him, her eyes narrowed with … suspicion?
“You were in there for hours,” she said. “I was worried I was going to have to postpone someone else’s trial.” He turned, looking at her as she sat down behind her desk.
“You may yet,” he said. “They didn’t reach an agreement.”
If it were possible for a human’s eyes to pop out of their head through sheer surprise, he supposed, then Shanlee’s reaction would have put her at a very high risk.
“What do you mean they couldn’t—” She cut herself off, half-sinking back into her seat, then frowned. “That’s … I’m sorry, Ryax. I would have thought that simply the spell you used to enter the door would have been enough, but …”
He shook his head again. “They were surprised and shocked by my aptitude.” As well as my species. “But that only led them to test me more thoroughly.”
“Because you’re skilled?” Shanlee asked, one shoulder lifting slightly. Combined with the pursed lips, it was a gesture he recognized. She didn’t believe her own words, though she’d just spoken them. Not entirely.
“Well, that was certainly part of it.” It was the best he could do. Addressing it directly so close to the chambers could be dire, even if he was fairly certain. “I do feel as though I’ve flown a few hundred leagues today now that it’s over. They asked that you put me on the schedule for tomorrow, so that they can have time for debate. Even if that means postponing another trial.”
Shanlee frowned and picked up one of the parchment pieces. “Not midday,” she said, “but an hour after. Will that work for you?”
“Yes.” I can likely arrange with the innkeeper to have my room for another day. Or perhaps more than one. A few of the council members seemed very opposed.
“Well, I suppose I will see you tomorrow then,” Shanlee said as she wrote his name on the parchment. “Sorry you weren’t admitted.”
“Thank you.” And he meant it. It felt good to hear that she thought he should have been. “I will see you tomorrow.” He turned away.
“Wait!” Shanlee’s tone called his focus back. There was a look on her face he recognized. Curiosity. With a bit of wonder. “That spell you performed. To get into the room. What was that?”
“A spatial distortion. A shift in the dimensions of the world so that it believes I am smaller.”
“But you actually aren’t?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Where did you learn that?”
“From Uxul Azul. Or rather, I figured it out under his tutelage, while studying different branches of magic and how they could be combined.”
“You figured it out yourself?” Shanlee’s stunned expression said volumes. “That’s amazing.”
“Well, thank you,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “Have you ever—?”
“No,” she said quickly. “But … Maybe I should.”
“Well, I wish you luck and care at it,” he said. “For now, I need to rest. The trial took much out of me. And I need to prepare for tomorrow. Farewell, Ms. Oau.”
He left the council chambers behind him, waiting until he was out of sight to let his fatigue show.
* * *
The next afternoon the council chambers were much the same, each councilmember waiting behind the dais and greeting him with mostly unreadable expressions. “So Ryax,” one of them said as he walked in. “You have returned.”
“I have,” he said, dispelling once more the spatial distortion as he moved to the center of the room. “I arrive to hear your decision.”
“We have not come to one.” The response came from the wizard who had been so outspoken against him the day before. Pinel, by his plaque. “We have, however, decided to test you further. To see the full depth and breadth of your supposed skill, and see if you’re truly worthy to bear the title of ‘wizard’ as a member of the Rietillian Council of Wizards.”
“I understand,” Ryax replied, holding his form very still and not raking his claws across the stone floor. It was within the power of the council to test him as they saw fit during the trial, but … I suspect this has little to do with my skill.
But until they reject me … Besides, a show of competency may sway some of those who were less than supportive yesterday.
One of the wizards leaned forward, asking a question about spell modification, and he let his focus slip to the task at claw. The rhythm established by the prior day’s trial, with council members questioning on theory, practice, or even demonstrations, came back easily. Unlike the day before, however, their questions were even more difficult, often theoretical, probing after nebulous or unknown concepts. Several times he was forced to shake his head and offer only an admission that he didn’t know, or that it was an area he had yet to study. The latter, he noted, seemed to be met with a scoff from Pinel, though after the third such occurrence another wizard asked him what he would say, only for Pinel to dodge the question by replying that he wasn’t the one on trial.
“Enough,” one wizard—the one with the long beard that wasn’t Jacopo—said after an hour or more had passed, interrupting councilmember Hogath partway through a request. “We’ve asked that before, only uttered differently. We’re circling, council. As well as, I may add, asking questions I suspect some of our own don’t even know the answers to. The apprentice’s knowledge is sound.”
“I disagree completely.” The voice belonged to Wizard Chobran, who stood as she spoke, waving one hand. “His knowledge would be sound if he adhered to it. Instead he offers wild theories, ones that call into question some of the very basic tenants we’ve held for generations—”
“You’re only saying that because you hold Adricarle in such high regard that you ignore more adept solutions, even when they’re placed right in front of you,” Sanyu shot back, cutting her off. “While I find apprentice Ryax’s methods unorthodox, I believe that the theory behind his approaches—”
“We don’t let apprentices become wizards for theory, Sanyu!” Jacopo said, his voice raised.
“Don’t misplace my words, Jacopo,” Sanyu shot back. “You know very well what—”
“Again we reach an impasse.” Soban rose, eyes cycling through the rest of the council. “As spokesman, I must confess I’ve rarely seen a harsher deliberation from the lot of you. I move then for recess and deliberation.”
“We will still set aside time for your case,” Soban continued, his gaze moving to Ryax. “But rather than continuing to test you, all present will be encouraged to meet and speak among themselves. With luck—” He shot a pointed glare at Jacopo. “Some of us will be able to reason without resorting to shouting to make our opinions heard. A reminder that we are wizards, councilmembers, of the Rietillian Council of such. We should act according to our station.”
“We will use that time tomorrow and the day after to debate as reasoned wizards. We will then meet on the fifth and final day of the trials once more, with Apprentice Ryax present, and reach a decision as a council. May we all agree?” There was a chorus of muttered nods and agreements, and Ryax found himself dismissed.
Part Three
Part of him wanted to go flying. Badly. There was something about being high in the sky, above the world with nothing but air and cloud around him … Perhaps it was part of being a dragon. The urge to stretch his wings, to simply glide on a thermal for miles and let his mind wander.
He’d almost done it. Walking out of the council chambers he’d felt the desire to take off right there from the front steps, to arc into the sky and climb until the words etched above the front door were nothing more than smudges on stone.
But … he’d been hungry. And he’d needed to give Shanlee the news that his trial would now be taking three other slots, right through the final day. So he’d done that instead, watching as she’d rearranged the schedule once more and prepared missives to dispatch to the affected apprentices, alerting them to the changes.
Then he’d gone and gotten lunch. Whether it was nervousness or the large amount of magic he’d been forced to cast over the last few days he’d built up a large appetite, one that hadn’t been sated until he’d consumed a fairly titanic pot of soup from a restaurant several hills west of the council chambers.
Now he was lying atop a white stone bench on one of the terraces near the river, idly watching as boats small and large made their way up and down its visible length. Most were laden with cargo, but here and there were a few carrying passengers, probably from much further away than another district of the city.
Most of them at least know where they’re going. He let out a sigh, dropping his head to his forepaws. I feel like I don’t know up from down and it doesn’t matter until the storm’s done with me anyway.
Some of the council had issues with him because of his species; that much was clear. More still clearly took issue with some of the answers he’d given in response to their intense questioning, though whether or not that was tied to his species he wasn’t certain.
Sel did warn me that sometimes a simpler demonstration of knowledge and capability is better, and that some of the council wizards could be quite stuck in tradition, he thought. Maybe that was my mistake.
But then how do I go about fixing this? He let out another huff of breath, a faint wisp of flame licking over the top of his paws as he did so. Down below one of the barges pulled over to a stone dock, crew shouting at the dockworkers as they threw lines and made ready to unload some of their cargo. I’ve already demonstrated everything I’m capable of, but that’s only won over how many members of the council?
He reviewed his memories, sifting through them and counting the various expressions he could remember. Four came to mind that were openly in his favor. And at least another three that seemed impressed enough by his magic that he felt they would be for his appointment. So seven that approve. Out of fifteen.
Soban he wasn’t certain about. The wizard hadn’t been antagonistic, but hadn’t been in his favor either, staying quite neutral. Though he had asked softer questions than some of his fellows.
That left seven other members, two of which he could recall taking issue with his approaches to magic, and five in addition that seemed overly antagonistic, like Pinel. Though it wouldn’t be fair to say that all of them are judging solely on my species. Only Pinel and one other wizard had been openly dismissive in that regard.
Ugh. He drew his claws back over the stone—not hard enough to leave scratches, but enough to make a faint rasp. And now they’re going to debate it on their own. If I could just talk to some of—
He paused. Well … I could, couldn’t I? Soban’s exact words hadn’t been that members of the council would meet, but—
“All present.” And I was present! So therefore, wouldn’t I count? His tail snapped back and forth as he thought back. It was very particular wording. And about explaining what the recess would consist of. Was that for my benefit?
He rose, pushing himself up on all fours atop the bench. Even if it wasn’t, it’s enough of a loophole that I could try, rather than sitting around waiting for them to pass me their answer.
Frederico’s voice echoed through his mind. “By our very nature and calling, a wizard is an active force in the world, not reactive.” He could recall the lesson well, and the saying had been one of the man’s favorites. “We are engineers, architects.”
He flapped his wings slightly, stretching them. Below him the barge had finished unloading its cargo and was busily casting off, crew poling it away from the dock and out toward the center of the river.
I need a plan, he thought. A process. He couldn’t simply go charging back to the council chambers and attempt to strike up a conversation with each in turn. I need the times set aside for each of those deliberations—He could remember one of them, thanks to Shanlee’s frustrated change of the schedule—and knowledge of where each of the members may be.
But … I should speak with Soban first. Both to make certain that he wasn’t overshooting his mark by getting involved … And to thank him for being a voice of reason, he thought. Besides, he might know something.
It was almost early evening now. The last trial was an hour before fifth bell. And after that, the council retires to their chambers or their homes. There must be a list at the council building of where each resides so that they can be contacted.
He shook his head. And that means I can find and speak with each of them. Or at the very least, a few of my most ardent detractors. But first, Soban.
* * *
As it turned out, Soban was the Rietillian Royal Family’s dedicated wizard, his home nestled near the royal hill and far enough from the council chambers that by the time Ryax had walked there he regretted not having flown, or at the very least hiring one of the small canal boats citizens could use to get through the city. The stone streets were definitely striking and surprisingly clean, but they were a bit tough on the paws after a few miles.
Soban’s home was small when compared to the edifices around it, consisting of what looked to be only a few rooms and a rooftop balcony, all tucked right up against the northern side of the palace walls. A plain stone path meandered through a well-trimmed garden to the front door, and Ryax could feel magic itch at his scales as he followed it.
Something … dangerous? He slowed for a moment, reaching out to very faintly feel at the spells. Stunning magic. And warning alerts. Nothing lethal, but worth knowing about. He probed a little further, looking for the locus the spells were attached to.
Oh, of course. The magic had been anchored to the very stones that made up the path under his paws. Clever.
There was a bell cord by the front door, and he pulled it. From somewhere within, a vocal chorus sounded in harmony. Very clever. The spellwork on that alone must have been—
The front door opened, both without warning and entirely on its own. Well, he thought as he identified the spell that had opened it. Not entirely the latter.
“Ryax.” Soban’s voice echoed from somewhere inside. “I’ve been expecting you.”
A faint fire of satisfaction bloomed in Ryax’s chest. I must have guessed right! he thought. If he was expecting me, he must have phrased the explanation for my benefit.
“Please, come in,” Soban instructed. Ryax complied, taking care to apply another spatial distortion as he did so, and heard a faint chuckle.
“That’s a very clever spell, you know. Very clever indeed.” Soban was sitting at a dinner table just to the right of the entryway, still clad in the colorful blue and golden robes he’d been wearing behind the dais, a half-eaten chicken in front of him. Ryax bowed his head slightly, taking care to keep his wings and tail close and away from the silk tapestries and paintings festooning the walls.
“Please accept my apologies, Ryax, for having dinner while we speak,” Soban continued, spearing a piece of chicken on a fork. “But I’ve barely had time to eat today. Please, sit.”
I was definitely expected. Ryax shook his head, settling on his haunches across the table from the wizard. “I’m intruding on your evening, sir. It would be presumptuous of me to expect you to cease.”
Soban nodded but smiled, the warmest expression Ryax could recall seeing on the man. Then it was gone, his tone all business once more. “So,” he said, popping a piece of chicken into his mouth and swallowing. “You obviously picked up on the little opening I left you this afternoon. And now you’ve come to speak with me first.” He paused, spearing another bit of his dinner. “Why me? Why not Pinel?”
Ryax thought for a moment before answering. “Because I wanted to be certain that I’d interpreted your wording properly. If I had, and I wanted to see what your thoughts were on my efforts thus far.”
“Hmm. I see.” The wizard took another bite, carefully wiping at his cheeks with a napkin. “And if I say that your efforts are futile?”
“I …” It’s a test! “I’ve come this far, sir. I have little to lose by putting forth the effort.”
Soban nodded, the motion slow and thoughtful rather than quick. “Good. Would to the Grand Creator that half the apprentices who came in for their trials were as dedicated as you. Now,” he said, leaning forward and intertwining his fingers atop the table. “As the official spokesman of the Rietillian Council of Wizards, I cannot speak for or against the success of your trial, as that would be overstepping my bounds. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Ryax smiled. “Yes. You cannot say whether or not there’s a consensus, but you can speak of the council members.”
“That’s Uxul Azul’s training at work,” Soban said, leaning back. “Very well then, Ryax. What would you like to know? Take a moment to consider if you need it.”
It was an opening. He’s testing me, even now. There’s more to this. Another angle. Referencing Uxul had been a clue. Looking at things differently … Like his words, or …
He had it. “It seems as though some members of the council take issue with my species,” he said, carefully watching Soban’s expression, but it was set in stone. “But there’s more going on than that, isn’t there?”
Soban nodded slowly. “There is. You’re not wrong that a few members of the council find the idea of a non-human wizard … troubling, but for most it’s only a catalyst for other issues within our order.”
“Spell theory.”
Soban nodded. “Right again. Not only are you a non-human and a dragon which, though the old days are behind us, still lingers in memory, you also speak against tradition.”
“Thus turning those members of the council against me.”
Again Soban nodded. “You have to understand, Ryax. The world is changing rapidly, and some have issues with that. Wizards no more or no less than others. There are debates among the council almost constantly on which ‘order’ of spellwork to follow, of which approach is the proper one to teach or to learn. Some are deeply divided over it. Wizards have even turned down offers to sit on the council over rivalries formed discussing the topic. And then you arrive with a training that’s far exceeded other apprentices, not just having been taught those differing methods but melding them, showing that they’re all valid …” He shrugged as his voice trailed off.
“My species made for a convenient reason to rally behind one cause or another turning half the council against me.”
“Not against you, per se,” Soban said quickly.
“But the ideas I represent,” Ryax finished. “They see it as a threat to their traditions and the knowledge they’ve spent a lifetime accumulating.”
“Knowledge and influence,” Soban added, leaning forward once more. “Don’t forget, most wizards became wizards to receive that same recognition and title you yourself stated you desired, though perhaps for different reasons.”
“So if they officially support someone who as they see it undermines their own capabilities, then they fear damaging their own status as a wizard.”
“Or the organization’s as a whole,” Soban said with another one of his sideways nods. A cultural tic, Ryax recalled, native to some Sicarians. “And with that, I suspect I’ve pushed the limits of my position far enough.”
But … “One last question, if I may, Wizard Soban.”
Soban smiled again, the expression gone an instant later. “You may.”
“Has the council ever turned away others for upsetting established tradition before? Is there precedent?”
Soban was still for a moment. “They have,” he said with a sigh. “And there is. More than twenty years ago now, before I was the spokesman. A delegation of magic users from across the Scented Ocean came to be recognized among the kingdoms as wizards, though they call themselves by a different title in the south. They were turned away, as their methods and practices were seen as far too different from the established standards of the Rietillian Council.”
A sinking feeling moved across Ryax’s body, like he’d just accidentally flown free of a thermal and was dropping toward the earth. Not free-fall, but … “So there is precedent?”
“There is. Tradition is a powerful thing.”
“Well, so is being so committed to one’s flight that one flies into a storm.” His eyes widened as he remembered who he was speaking to. “That is—I—”
Soban let out a chuckle and shook his head. “No, Ryax, it’s fair. Tradition, or pride in it, can blind even wizards. Perhaps if when our council was founded all those years ago there had been more forethought toward the future, rather than the now, but …” He shrugged, spreading open palms. “As they say, you can see the pitfall easily after you’ve already fallen in. Assuming one even wants to climb out.”
“Personally, I think I would have the advantage there, sir.”
Soban let out another chuckle. “You seem to have been gifted with the ability to look at things from another angle, but I’d say that’s a product of your mind and your teaching, rather than your species. Sadly Ryax, I’m afraid there’s not much else I can say, and I have other duties I must attend to once my dinner is complete. I hope you can make the most of my advice.”
The dismissal was polite, but still clearly a dismissal. “Thank you, sir, for your time.”
“You’re welcome,” Soban said, waving a hand. “I wish you luck, though before you go …” There was a hungry gleam in his eye. “Could I perhaps see that spatial distortion spell of yours one more time?”
* * *
The next morning Ryax awoke to the slight pattering of rain hitting the balcony outside his room. The blue skies of the days prior had been replaced by cool grey, fat, thick drops of rain adding a wet sheen to the white stone of the city.
Day three. Only today and tomorrow to convince the council that—
That I’m what? he thought as he looked out across the damp city. Not a threat to their traditions and approaches? I can’t rightfully say that. I probably am, dragon or not.
He made his way out onto the balcony, spreading his wings and letting the infrequent drops splatter against them. A quick downward thrust with a hop and he was airborne, climbing into the grey sky. Even if he had to circle for a while to find a place to land, the flight would feel good, and maybe even help clear his head.
Who do I start with? Those who partially support me, but are against my approaches? Or someone like Pinel?
Straight to the source. That would certainly be one way to approach it. Pinel’s objection seemed to have been more to do with his species, but … Like Soban said, that’s a catalyst for all the other issues. If Pinel were to retract his objections …
Below him the city was still active despite the rain, though many of the streets looked slightly less crowded than they had before. He flew over the river, eyeing one of the large stone bridges that crossed it and noting the detail that had gone into its masonry. Small channels had been cut into the sides of the bridge to let rainwater escape, trickles of water falling to the river below. Under the right conditions, it would likely look a bit like a waterfall … and probably soak any boat that passed beneath it.
But such is the price of art, Ryax thought as he flew onward, climbing so that he wouldn’t come too near to the tops of the next buildings. Looking close he could see more of the small channels cut across each building, guiding the rainfall down to the canals. Or, from the look of more than a few channels, into cisterns.
He changed directions, turning back toward the river and letting the city pass by beneath him. There wasn’t any real plan to his flight, other than to stretch his wings. And perhaps determine how to best spend his time until he could speak with … Well, whoever I speak with.
I wonder if Axtara had this much trouble starting her bank? Knowing who to talk to, and what to say … I study magic, not social circles.
Still, I can think of it a bit like magic, right? And in magic, if a spell approach didn’t work, the best solution wasn’t to power through it, but to try another angle.
Maybe I don’t want to speak with Pinel, but one of the others against me. That would be coming at it from a different angle. And if I can convince one of them, maybe that will be enough to bring others closer to my support, one by one.
So then … who to talk with? They still must have the social clout to convince others. He ran through his memories of the prior afternoon. Jacopo? No, Chobran! The wizard who spoke against my theories! I should speak with her. Try to ease her fears, or perhaps find common ground.
And if she proves unreceptive, then I suppose I could try Pinel. If he’ll speak with me. He turned toward the council chambers at last, raindrops splattering against his wings. Shanlee will know where Chobran can be found. From there, I hope I can convince her to see reason.
* * *
Chobran, it turned out, was quartered on the council grounds itself, behind the main building and with her own entrance. Temporary quartering only, Shanlee had noted. Normally the wizard lived closer to the center of the empires. She only came to the council when called.
She also was an ardent traditionalist. Chobran had submitted a new apprentice of her own without fail for almost every one of the dozen years she’d served on the council, most of whom had passed. The ones that hadn’t had been immediately dismissed. The warning had left him with a bit of a pit in his gut. If she dismisses her own apprentices for failing to pass the trials even once, where might that leave me?
Flying the only path left to me? It wasn’t a comforting thought. Before it could linger in his head, he brought his claws down, knocking on Chobran’s door.
For a moment there was nothing but the faint sound of raindrops striking the stone around him, and he shifted his wings slightly, trying to keep his body still. Be calm. Be pleasant. Be congenial. A friendly wizard is much more welcome to people than an unhappy one. Elvoto had drummed a number of lessons into his head that had held little to do with magic, but with appearances. Hold yourself with poise.
He was about to knock again, the pit in his stomach swelling, when a voice from inside called out “I’m coming, I’m coming.” He barely had time to place his lifted claws back on the wet stone step before the door shot open, Chobran’s stern expression catching his own.
“What—?” She paused, her expression unreadable. “Oh. It’s you. What do you want?”
Gone, he noticed, were the robes she’d worn behind her dais on the council. Instead she wore a dress that vaguely reminded him of Sicarian fashion, with a high neck and a window that left part of her breastbone exposed. It was a dark color, threaded with faint lines of silver. Had he not known who she was, he would have thought he’d intruded on the afternoon of a noblewoman.
And she was still waiting for him to answer her question. He disguised the pause with a quick bow. “Councilwoman.”
“Apprentice.” There was no mistaking the tone. She didn’t think much of the word. Or him. “As I said, what do you want?”
To the point, then. “I’ve come to speak with you regarding my trial, as part of the recess.”
Chobran’s eyes narrowed. “You’re an apprentice.” Again there was a tone to the way she said it. “Not a wizard. The recess is for council members to discuss your trial. Not apprentices.”
“Your pardon, ma’am,” he said quickly. “But Wizard Soban’s words were that ‘all present’ were to discuss it. Not just the councilmembers.”
Chobran’s expression twitched ever so slightly, eyes narrowing. “Very well,” she said after a moment. “Say your piece, and then I’ll say mine.”
Not even going to invite me in. The pit in his belly was a yawning abyss now. And from her statement, she doesn’t expect this to be much of a discussion.
“Councilwoman Chobran,” he said, his mind racing to plan ahead as he spoke. “I’m under the impression that you’re opposed to my passing the trial because of my varied approaches to magic. I was hoping I could perhaps ease your mind concerning my suitability. There are varied approaches to magic—”
“That’s Sel Utari talking,” Chobran said, speaking over him with no hesitation that he could see. “She never should have been given the title of ‘wizard’ peddling that nonsense from hedge-magicians. Wizardry isn’t flagrantly throwing magic around like seed and seeing what grows. It’s cultivated, carefully designed application of skill and talent, built on the precise study of generations of respected authority that has come before. That is magic, apprentice. Precision. Care. Following the carefully chosen steps of those before us. Not flagrantly disregarding their wisdom and learning to try and put ourselves on their own pedestals.”
“I’m not—” he began, but then a spell swept over him, silencing his words.
“I wasn’t through, apprentice.” She frowned at him. “Another reason I will not support your trial. You don’t respect your peers. You think to challenge them, to contest. Generations of wizards have dedicated their lives to the study of magic, and then apprentices like yourself think you can simply disregard a lifetime of learning.”
“Furthermore,” she continued. “That shows a temperament entirely unsuited for any who would bear the title of ‘wizard.’ It’s the realm of hedge-magicians and backwater rubes, not serious practitioners of magic. Whether it’s attempting to ‘reinvent’ something that’s already been done to inflate your own ego, or ascribing ‘rules’ where there are none, I find both utterly unsuitable for any who would be a member of our order. Granting you the title of ‘wizard’ would be an insult diminishing the standing of each and every one of us.”
“So no, apprentice.” Again the emphasis. “You will never be a wizard, even if you were to come back at a future trial and deliver to us exactly what you should have shown had you been trained properly. You’ve already proven that you’re unsuited for it, too quick to dismiss what you should have never questioned. You will always be a hedge-magician at best.” She paused, her eyes looking him up and down. “Not to mention you’re a dragon, and the social and political connotations of admitting a dragon to the order would be devastating to the rest of us. I’m almost tempted to motion that Sel and the rest of your teachers be stripped of their titles simply for the damage their behavior could extend to the order.”
“So again, no,” Chobran said, folding her arms and glaring at him. “Good day.” The door slammed shut, almost striking him in the muzzle.
Well …The pit in his belly was gone, at least, though the yawning abyss that had swallowed it wasn’t really any better. That could have gone—
He shook his head and stepped back. No, it could not have gone better. The only way for it to have gone worse would have been for her to cast a spell on you. Oh, but she did.
He lashed out with a quick burst of his own magic, striking the spell’s weak point and ripping it apart. The magic unraveled with a faint pop alongside a garbled mixture of the few words he’d said before he’d felt the spell’s full effect.
Part of him wanted to be angry. To lash out with wing and claw, maybe flame. But he couldn’t. Not without proving some of the very concerns Chobran had hinted at. There was definitely an ember of anger floating somewhere in the abyss, but … Calm.
Chobran was out, clearly. Which left … Pinel? There might be a chance. What was it Soban had said? That I’m gifted with the ability to see things from another angle? I couldn’t convince Chobran of that, but if I could convince Pinel, then maybe …
He turned away from the wizard’s door, moving with purpose toward the front of the council grounds. If I can track down Pinel before this recess is over, and convince him … It wasn’t ideal. But it was the only obvious course left. I have to try.
Maybe, just maybe, I can make this work.
Part Four
The rain had gotten heavier, but Ryax didn’t care. It wasn’t as if the weather bothered him the same way it did humans. He didn’t have any clothing to get wet, and the satchel hanging around his chest was waterproofed. Simply cupping his wings above him, while a little awkward, was more than enough to shield his head from the increasing downpour.
It was fitting weather. Grey skies, flush with rain. A perfect companion for his dampened mood.
He was not going to be a wizard. Not this year. Perhaps not for decades, assuming any future councils wished to revisit the decision.
His meeting with Pinel had been both abrupt and humiliating. It hadn’t helped that the wizard had been sitting in one of the halls off the council chamber with several of his fellow council members, discussing something completely unrelated to Ryax’s trial. But Ryax’s appearance and request to speak of it had been met with—
Mockery. Derision.
Outright rejection. They hadn’t gone so far as to threaten him, but Pinel had laughed to his face when Ryax had suggested even discussing the possibility of his passing the trial and then told him to leave, laughing behind his back as he’d done so about how ridiculous it was that a “beast” like Ryax could ever dream of being a wizard.
Now he was sitting in the rain, watching as one of the council groundskeepers worked their way past, their blue-and-white livery soaked completely through. Odd that they don’t give them some protection from the rain, a small part of his mind insisted. Water-repelling spells don’t last long, but they’re not too difficult to perform.
He gave one idle claw a quick wave, pushing magic through it and shaping the mental constraints of the spell. The groundskeeper looked up in confusion as the rain abruptly stopped striking her, eyes widening as she saw the raindrops slide past, deviating from their fall.
“It won’t last long,” he said, and her eyes flicked to him in shock, widening further. “And you’re already soaked, but it can’t hurt.”
For a moment the groundskeeper seemed stunned and unsure, but then she offered a slight bow. “My thanks, great dragon.”
“You’re welcome. Hope it helps.” She bowed again, then grabbed her tools and went back to work, rain shimmering around her as his spell repelled it. He watched until she was out of sight, vanishing into another part of the grounds and leaving him alone.
What am I going to do now? There was still another day before the final judgement would be rendered, but … Both sides opposed to me have dug in their claws. I can talk to those who already support me, but … What good was that? They were already in his favor, but they couldn’t convince those who were not. A sigh slipped past his lips, sliding out into the rain and fading almost instantly.
So what now? As hard and painful as it was to think that he might never be a wizard … What will I do now? Become an apprentice once more? A hedge magician? They were respected, but not nearly so much as wizards were.
Without that title, how will I find the patronage I need for my research? Even with the title, his status as a dragon would still be a disqualifier with many places and kingdoms. Without it … I’ll have little support but my own.
Maybe I could ask uncle for some support. He’d help and he has connections. But without the title, he’d want proof of a return on his investment. Sell my magic?
“That—”
He jerked upright, the voice catching him completely by surprise, water spilling over his face as his wings flared out. The voice cut off abruptly with a laugh, and he turned to see Hyal’s assistant covering the lower half of her face, trying to hide her amusement.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “For both laughing and startling you. But that was … It was funny.”
He tried to smile, but it felt forced. Still, there was no reason not to be congenial. She had been one of the few to treat him with utmost respect since he’d arrived, after all. He shifted, clearing part of the bench he was lying on so that she could sit down.
“I suppose your meetings with Chobran and Pinel weren’t what you’d hoped for?” Shanlee asked, wiping the bench dry with the hem of her cloak before sitting down.
“That would be a polite way to put it,” he said, carefully shaking some of the rain from his wings before tucking them against his sides. “They made their positions quite clear.” For a moment they sat in silence, then Shanlee spoke up.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It doesn’t feel fair.”
“That’s because it isn’t.” The words were out and spoken before he could call them back, and he turned, twisting his neck to look at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, you’re right, it isn’t fair,” Shanlee said. “I spoke with Master Hyal about it last night, mentioning how proficient you were with your spells and use of magic, and his only response was to lecture me about proper application. It’s unfair that you can do so much but they’re turning you away because you’ve found another way to do it. It’s not right.”
“There’s room for many approaches to magic,” he said, the words rushing out with a tired exhalation. “Or so I thought.”
“I believe you’re right,” Shanlee said quickly. “Otherwise your spells wouldn’t work. But they do. That was you who cast that shield on one of the grounds workers, wasn’t it? I’ve never seen a spell like that.”
“It’s a modification on a repellant spell,” he said, shrugging. “Gionoatari’s distance principle and a few other minor tweaks.”
“You’re selling yourself under, Ryax,” Shanlee said, her eyes piercing into his. “I don’t think Master Hyal would be able to replicate that, and here you are dismissing it as if it’s nothing.”
“Well …” He paused for a moment. “Thank you. That’s nice to hear.”
“Nice nothing,” Shanlee said. “This is my second year doing the paperwork for the trials, and this is the only time I’ve felt angry that someone isn’t passing. You should be teaching some of the wizards on that council. Not begging them to let you into their little club.”
There was a fire to her voice that surprised him, and he paused again before replying. “Well, again, thank you. I’m unhappy with it as well.”
“Angry? Or unhappy?”
“Oh, I’m angry,” he said, extending his claws slightly and letting just a little of the ember in his chest make its way into his voice. “But a wizard, as any other person with any sort of power, can’t afford to let anger rule his—or her—judgement. That doesn’t mean it can’t exist. Just that I can’t let it control what I do.”
“Wise words.”
“Frederico Adernat,” Ryax said. “He was my first teacher.”
The rain continued to pour down around them, filling the small channels that cut across the stone garden. A minute passed, and then two. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I’m not usually this quiet.”
Shanlee shook her head. “I’d be silent too, if a bunch of stuck-up wizards had thoroughly blocked my path forward just because they were jealous.”
“Adherence to tradition isn’t jealousy.”
“It might be.”
That he had no answer to, so he let it slide, choosing instead to shake his wings slightly, casting water away from his scales.
“Why didn’t you cast that spell on yourself?” Shanlee asked.
He shrugged, shifting his wings. “Didn’t feel like it. And scales are easier to dry than cloth.”
“Well,” Shanlee said a moment later. “With that spell alone, you could always find work.”
“I suppose I could.” Just not the work I’d dreamed of.
“After all, I’m sure she’s already told half of the king’s house about your generosity with the spell. And how useful it was. If you were to—”
“Wait,” he said, turning to look at her once more. “What do you mean ‘the king’s house?’”
“The palace,” Shanlee said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I’d bet that she’s already told half of them about it.”
“Why would she tell the palace?” he asked, feeling slightly lost.
“Because she works there?” Shanlee countered, giving him an odd look. “For the king? Why wouldn’t she tell them? Especially if it hasn’t worn off.”
“It stops once water hasn’t struck it for a minute or so,” he said, with a wave of his claws, his mind still catching on the other half of the conversation. “But why does she work in the palace? I thought she was tending to the grounds here? For the council?”
“Because the king owns the council,” Shanlee said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Or sponsors it, really, but it’s the same thing in the end. The groundskeepers are all members of the palace staff, assigned on rotation.”
“The king of Rietillia owns the council?” he asked.
Shanlee nodded. “You didn’t know that?”
“No,” he said with a quick shake of his head. An idea was forming inside his mind, like a ray of light cracking through a cloudy sky after a storm. “So then it’s the Rietillian Council of Wizards …?”
“Because it’s based in Rietillia. The king sponsors and pays for the whole thing. Why?”
He didn’t answer. There was a path along that ray of light. If the king sponsors the council … Then Soban …
“Storms and skies, I’ve been a fool!” he said, jerking upright. The motion startled Shanlee, who let out a squeak and fell over backwards off the bench.
“Sorry,” he said, helping her up with his tail. “But I’ve been a fool. Wizard Soban praised my ability to see things from another angle, but I flew ahead with my eyes on the wrong course!”
“You’re not thinking of going to the king himself, are you?” Shanlee asked, wide-eyed. “Because—”
“No no,” he said quickly, waving a paw. “No, that would simply go over the council and make me more enemies. But the king sponsors the council. In Rietillia.”
“Well … yes.”
“So I’m going to see a king,” he said, grinning. Shanlee paled slightly at the sight of his teeth, and he flinched.
“Apologies. That was a smile,” he said quickly. “A very happy smile. But I’ll need to leave quickly.” It’ll take quite a while to fly that far. And I’ll need …
He looked down at Shanlee once more. “Do you have access to the charters and regulations of the council?”
“I … Yes, I do,” Shanlee said, the expression on her face saying that she was trying to work out what he was up to but hadn’t quite gotten there yet. “But that won’t help you with the king—”
Again he shook his head, droplets of water flying from his horns. “No, I’m not going to speak to the king of Rietillia. But I will need copies of those documents. That’s allowed, correct?”
“Well … yes. I mean, you can look at them,” Shanlee said. “Copying I don’t see why not, but it would take some time.”
“A spell might make it go faster,” Ryax suggested, running over the idea in his mind. It could work. It could absolutely work. I’d need to talk to uncle, and then from there—It could work! “And I will need to fly quickly.” That’ll be the hardest part.
“Well … there’s a spell for copying text, I think,” Shanlee said. “But it’s only good for quill movements, not something that’s already been written. And it’s not very quick.”
“It’s a base to start from,” he said, looking down at her. The abyss in his chest was gone, replaced by a fiery flame that burned with purpose. “Surely between the two of us, we can think of some ways to make it quicker.”
“Well …” She hesitated slightly, eyes darting away from his for a moment and looking down at the wet stone. “You’re not going to talk to the king?”
“No,” he said, holding a set of claws to his chest. “I’m not going to speak with the king of Rietillia, nor anyone from his staff. On the shell of my egg.”
Curiosity was replacing the uncertainty on Shanlee’s face. “Well,” she said after a moment, her eyes tracking upward once more to lock with his. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but I can help you copy those charters.”
“Excellent,” he said, turning and looking at the council building. “Where—”
“If,” she interrupted him, holding up a hand. “If you teach me that spatial distortion spell of yours, and how it’s not a simple shrinking spell.”
“Agreed. Just not tonight. Once this is all over. Provided Wizard Hyal allows it.”
“Master Hyal may leave once the trials are over.”
“I have wings. I can follow long enough to teach you,” he said, extending and flexing his wings. “Again, if he permits it.” And he may be unhappy enough with my actions that he does not. He left that bit unsaid. “Again, agreed.”
“All right,” Shanlee said, nodding and turning on her heel. “This way.”
* * *
Nearly two days later, an exhausted Ryax landed on the front grounds of the council building, his chest heaving for breath and his wings burning and aching as if he’d breathed his own flame on them. The stone felt cool and inviting under his paws, like he could just curl up and go to sleep. Part of him certainly wanted to.
But he couldn’t. He ignored the burning in his limbs, the ache in his muscles from long hours of sustained flight. The pit in his belly, a sign that an earlier pause for lunch hadn’t been nearly enough to see him through the day.
But he couldn’t have afforded another stop. Or any luxury that might have slowed him down. In fact, he wasn’t sure he wasn’t too late as it was.
He turned to the nearest groundskeeper, who was still giving him a rather unwelcome look for his sudden arrival.
“My apologies,” he said, trying not to gasp for breath. “I may be late. When was the midday bell?”
The groundskeeper paused for a moment. “I’m not sure,” they said. “Maybe a while ago?”
Storms. “Thank you.” He turned and ran for the door, loping over the ground on legs that protested his every movement, stiff from being held in flight position for so long. He ignored it as best he could, bursting up the steps and through the doors, noting with new awareness the stonework proclaiming “The Rietillian Council of Wizards.”
Shanlee looked up at him from behind the admissions desk as he ploughed through the doors. “Am I late?” he asked before she could say anything. “Did I miss it?”
“It just started,” she said, motioning toward the doors. “You’re not too late—” But he was already moving, casting as he went and just barely slipping past the doorframe to burst into the council chambers.
“—not even …” Pinel’s voice died off as Ryax entered the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake.
Ryax took a moment to pull himself up, trying as best he could to not look as tired and worn as he felt. Even through the fatigue however, there was a faint thrill of nervous energy, and he fought to keep from grinning. “My apologies, councilmembers,” he said as he stepped into the center of the room, dispelling the distortion spell. “I took advantage of the recess to take care of some important business that was some distance away.” Keep the momentum going. “I trust you’ve come to a decision?”
Pinel let out a scoff and folded his arms, his voluminous sleeves reaching down below the dais. A quick glance at the other council members showed quite a few unimpressed or nonplussed faces … though there were a few also that were giving him curious, almost expectant looks. Soban’s included.
“We have,” Pinel said when no one else spoke. “We regret to inform you, apprentice—” There was a tone to the way he said “regret” that made it clear there was no such feeling where he was concerned. “—that we find your current skill and temperament unsuited for acceptance by this council.”
“Not all of us, Pinel,” one of the other council members said, glaring at the wizard.
Pinel let out another scoff. “A few may feel otherwise, but this is a council, and the rules are clear. To accept the posting of a new wizard, a number of us must agree. Far too many of us, Apprentice Ryax, find you unsuitable for the title.” Pinel was staring right at him now, and Ryax had to fight not to grin. “Therefore, you are not to be granted the title of wizard at this time. Nor, with the showing you’ve made, from your theories to your obvious disrespect to this council in showing up late to your own trial, would I expect you to ever be ready for such.”
Ryax couldn’t hold it back any longer. He smiled, and for a brief moment Pinel’s smug expression slipped to one of confusion.
“Thank you for the answer, Wizard Pinel,” Ryax said, bowing his head slightly. “But I actually came today to announce that I was withdrawing my candidacy before this council. In addition, I must ask that you address me by my proper title.”
”Proper title?” The look of self-assured aggrandizement was back, but it didn’t quite reach Pinel’s eyes. There was a hint of alarm there. “What title?”
“Why wizard, of course,” Ryax said, smiling. “Wizard Ryax.”
The outroar from the rest of the council was instantaneous, overshadowed only by Pinel’s swift response. “You dare?” he began, rising and leaning forward over the dais. “You insult this council after hearing their decision—”
“The decision is not yours to make!” Ryax shot back, applying his spatial distortion spell but growing this time rather than shrinking, rising above Pinel. “Nor,” he said more quietly as Pinel jerked back in shock, momentarily stunned, “am I insulting this council or their decision. I do not hold the title of wizard … from the Rietillian Council of Wizards.”
At the edge of his focus, Soban smiled.
Keep the momentum. Keep flying.
“Because that’s what this is,” Ryax said, spreading his claws and waving at the rest of the chamber while he looked down at Pinel. “The Rietillian council. Funded, sponsored, and operated by the royal governing family of Rietillia.”
“And in that sense,” he continued, now turning his gaze toward Chobran. “You are free to accept or refuse members as you see fit, according to the charter and authority granted to you by the King of Rietillia, to teach and mold members accordingly.”
“Exactly.” It was Chobran who had spoken up. “We are wizards. And you cannot just call yourself—”
“Do you speak for the whole of the known empires then?” he asked, cutting her off. Chobran’s eyes widened, but she didn’t reply.
“No,” he said. “I thought not. Or rather, I know you do not. At its heart, this council is of the Rietillian kingdom, not the empires as a whole.”
Soban was still smiling, his amused look the glancing focus of several other curious councilmembers.
“As such,” Ryax continued, “you have the authority to grant or strip someone of the title of ‘wizard’ … but only so far as the limits of your own council are concerned.”
“But we are the council!” Pinel finally spoke up, red faced. “The only council of wizards in the empires!”
“Not anymore,” Ryax said, grinning and giving the councilmember a glimpse of just a bit of tooth. He reached into his satchel, pulling out the document he’d flown back with so quickly. “This,” he said, holding it up. “Is a copy of a new charter, signed by the Imperial Council of Delaria, establishing a new council of wizards in Helmson, officially operating under the jurisdiction of—and therefore recognized by—the Delarian Empire. Neighbor state to Rietillia.”
“As you can see,” he said, pointing at the document. “That is the Imperial seal, and those are the signatures of each of the Imperial Councilmembers and the Emperor himself. They have established the Imperial Wizard’s Court, of which I am a recognized member.” The only member thus far, he added mentally. Though he suspected that would change quickly as word got around.
“You— You—” Pinel seemed to be having trouble speaking, his face having taken on a shade somewhat reminiscent of a root vegetable. “You—!”
“So, councilmembers,” Ryax continued, dispelling the spatial distortion and returning everything to its normal space. “You cannot at this time reject my trial, as I withdraw it myself, requesting only that you address me by my proper title, as is fitting of equals.” Pinel let out a strangled sound not unlike that of a dying goose. Chobran didn’t appear to be very happy either. “Wizard Ryax. Though, of course, as equals, we may simply dispense with the formalities and refer to one another by name alone.”
“No.” Chobran spoke again. “You cannot do this. You cannot!”
“By whose authority?” Ryax asked, turning to look at her. “Do you command the Imperial Court of Delaria?”
“You’re not a wizard,” Chobran replied. “You’re just … some fool dragon with delusions!”
“Then you are a fool woman with the same delusion,” Ryax replied, folding his wings and sitting casually on his haunches. “You’re only recognized as a ‘wizard’ because the title is given weight and authority by the kingdom of Rietillia. And that only happened because two-hundred years ago the Rietillian king decided to organize magic users across the kingdoms in a council that he backed.”
“This will not stand,” Chobran said, eyes narrowing. “I won’t allow it!”
“Wizard Chobran.” The words were stern as Soban rose from his seat at last. “Kindly refrain from accusing fellow wizards or speaking ill of them based off of your personal differences in this chamber.”
“Fellow wizards!?” Pinel had finally found his voice. “You actually expect—?”
“Yes!” Soban’s voice thundered through the chamber like a storm, taking Pinel aback. “Because what are we going to do about it, Pinel? Go crying to the king, like wayward apprentices who have had our hands slapped? Demand that they what? Enter a war with the Delarian Empire over another formally recognized council of wizards?” He shook his head. “We’d only make a mockery of ourselves. Wizard Ryax, whether or not you respect the title, now bears it, from a hand other than our own. And we have no say in it.”
“Thank you, spokesman,” Ryax said with a nod of his head. “And I believe that concludes our—or rather, my—business here. As I am no longer in need of the approval of this council, and no longer an apprentice, my trial is therefore, no longer a concern. But I thank you for your time, and look forward to speaking with you in the future.”
“Well,” he added as he looked at Pinel. “Some of you, anyway.”
“It’ll never work.”
“Pardon?” He turned to look at Chobran.
“It won’t work,” she said again. “It’s a farce. You may have been granted the title of wizard, but you’ll never truly be one.”
“I won’t be the kind of wizard you aspire to be,” he countered. Then he grinned. “And personally? I’m at peace with that.” He turned his focus back to the council as a whole. “News of the new council will be arriving shortly, I’m sure, but for now councilmembers, I must bid you farewell. I have a lot of work to do.”
He turned for the exit, noticing as he did so that the doors were still open. Shanlee was holding them, a look of stunned astonishment on her face.
The council, at least, waited until he had left to explode in a flurry of shouting that was still faintly audible even behind closed doors. Soban will have his hands full keeping order, Ryax thought with a smile. But none of that matters to me!
And it didn’t. That was the best part. Sure, there might be some sociopolitical rumblings from the Rietillian King when he realized he no longer sponsored the only council of wizards, but that wasn’t going to dissuade the Delarian Empire.
“So.” Shanlee’s voice interrupted his warm thoughts, scattering them. “That’s who you were going to speak to. It was a king. Just not the Rietillian one.”
“I did specify that,” he said, raising one claw. “I was very careful with my wording. Also, technically he’s an emperor, not a king.”
“That was why you wanted copies of the charter.”
He nodded. “So that the imperial Council would have a framework to examine while building their own, yes.”
“All right,” Shanlee said. “But how?”
“My uncle is a respected banker in Helmson,” he explained. “With his connections and sponsorship, I was able to meet with a few members of the council, who then called an emergency meeting to discuss it, brought it to the emperor’s attention, and approved it. It’s been … a frantic two days,” he admitted, wings and shoulders sagging slightly. “And I ache from the flight. I’m exhausted.”
“And officially a wizard now.”
“Yes.” He smiled. “I am.”
“Well then … what now?”
He shrugged. “Back to the inn to rest. Eat. Clean up. I stink of travel.”
“You do,” Shanlee said with a laugh. “A bit. But what about after that?”
“Head back to Helmson.” There had been a lot of time during his flight back to think about it. “By now news will have spread through the empire. Finding patronage should be easier. And I’ll have some slight financial backing from the Imperial Council as well, though I’m not certain how much. But then? Research! Wonderful spell research!” Despite his weariness, the thought sent an elated surge of energy through him. “On the ancients and their ruins, I think.”
“Is there time in that plan for an apprenticeship?”
“I …” His thoughts scattered like a flock of birds on the wind. “What?”
“Wait for me for just a moment?” Shanlee strode back over to the doors, wrenching them open. Shouts poured out in a cacophony of noise as she stepped inside, one hand holding the portal open. Ryax had just enough time to catch someone saying “—never stand …” before the voice trailed off, and then Soban’s voice carried through the chamber.
“Yes, apprentice? Is it time for the next trial?”
“No,” Shanlee said, shaking her head. “I just needed to speak to Master Hyal for a brief moment. Master Hyal? I hereby withdraw from my apprenticeship. Thank you for your time and instruction. Good day.”
She backed out of the doors, letting them swing shut on a stunned silence.
“He was never really interested in teaching me anyway,” Shanlee said as she looked back at Ryax. “He only did it because the council asked him to. Besides which, I learned more spell theory helping you copy the charter the other night than I have in two years serving as Hyal’s apprentice. Therefore—” She straightened, then bowed. “Wizard Ryax the Dedicated, I respectfully request that I be allowed to serve and learn as your apprentice.”
“I …” He tapped a claw against his chin, stalling as he formed a response. “I’m not certain my new position has a title for that. But until we can ascertain what the position will be …” She is bright, friendly, and intelligent. “I accept.” Shanlee’s face lit up. “Though I’m not certain what sort of teaching it may be. Are you all right with learning as we go?”
“Master Ryax, it would be my honor.”
“Very well then.” He took a quick look around the entryway. “Then let’s go to the inn, and you can send for your things, wherever they are. We’ll figure out the formalities later. Just … don’t call me ‘master.’ Ryax will do.”
She smiled. “Very well then. Ryax it is.”
“And you Shanlee?”
“I’d like that. Wizard Ryax.”
He grinned as he moved for the exit. “That I’m more than all right with. I like the way it sounds.”
“So would I.”
“No,” he said, glancing at her as she cocked her head to one side. “So will you. You’re committed now.”
Shanlee grinned. “I like the sound of that, too.”
He returned her grin with one of his own, and this time she didn’t flinch. “It’s going to be a lot of hard work.”
“Will it require me to fly across an entire kingdom in less than two days’ time?”
“It might,” he admitted as they stepped out under the brilliant blue sky. “But if it does, then rest assured I will have been sure to teach you well enough that you will have wings. Now, let’s get some food.”
Tired as he was, he felt like he was soaring.
Well! I hope you enjoyed reading Ryax’s adventure as much as I enjoyed writing it! Again, if this is the first time you’ve been exposed to the world of Axtara, I highly recommend heading over to our books page, or even down to your local bookstore or library and snagging a copy of Axtara – Banking and Finance!
Thanks for reading!
Unusual Things 
That ending was so satisfying when I read it the 1st time!!
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