Wish Upon a Dragon

"There weren't always dragons in the valley," the wizard intoned from her position in front of the royal high table. Her voice carried to the far corners of the great hall, echoing unnaturally until her audience leaned forward in rapt attention. Magic itched Renne's skin and she shifted in her ornately uncomfortable chair, trying to be unobtrusive in her wiggling. Her padded bustle had worked itself around to the side so she was only half sitting on it. Fortunately, most everyone's attention was focused on the Lady High Wizard Elair and her fanciful version of history.

"They came in pursuit of gold and jewels, mined from the mountains by our people, and demanded tribute in exchange for mercy from their fire and claws."

Renne heard the subtle emphasis Lady Elair placed on the our and tilted her head. The Lady was right, according to the histories the dragons weren't the original inhabitants of the valley. What she failed to mention was that there hadn't always been wizards, either. The stories disagreed about where either group had come from, but two things were clear from Princess Renne's own studies: The dragons had come searching for gold and jewels; the wizards had come searching for dragons.

"A mighty alliance between humans and wizards overthrew the cruel beasts, but it took centuries of warfare to purge our blessed land of their evil."

It had been so long since she moved that her feet were going numb. Wiggling her toes in her shoes, the princess widened her eyes and hoped she looked sufficiently interested to avoid a political incident.

Movement out of the corner of her eye made Renne glance over at the man who shared the dais with her. The Prince of Vascilli practically lounged in a chair so ornate it could have properly been a throne. He'd brought it with him. Then he'd had his people prop it on blocks of wood so it would be exactly one inch taller than hers. Now the prince yawned wider than his dainty white hand could cover and she fought not to roll her eyes.

The Lady High Wizard checked slightly in her speech, probably not used to anyone yawning in the middle of her orations. "At the end of that war your ancestor," her voice rose dramatically, "Was declared king by the people."

A strange anticlimax settled over the room. Only Prince Ninian could be excused for not knowing this history, and he seemed less interested than anyone else. Elair recovered quickly and rushed on, "But that was the past," She waved her hand, consigning it, and her accidental gaff, to be forgotten. "Your Majesties, my Lords and Ladies, the Ivory Spire would present a gift on this grand occasion."

Her parents nodded permission from the head table and the rest of the wizards filed to the center of the hall. Twenty-six in all, but Renne couldn't make out where they'd come from. They hadn't been sitting at dinner with the rest of the court, and there were no shadows for them to hide in. Prince Ninian leaned forward, interested at last, and Renne wondered if he could feel the restless touch of the wizards' magic, too.

The twenty-six wizards stood in a wide circle, leaving the center of the room clear. "For the Princess, on the eve of her new life, the Wizards of Ivory offer the greatest gift of all…" In the background the wizards were chanting, a low monotone that underscored Lady Elair's voice like the wash of the wind down the mountainside. As their power grew and swept through the grand hall, Renne leaned into it, even as the Prince flopped back in his chair. Lady High Wizard Elair joined her voice to the chanting and the Renne felt the magic like a treble beat around her heart. The droning chorus built in volume. A cold wind emanated from the very center of the magic circle, radiating out to every corner of the room.

Elair turned to face the dais with a dramatic flourish and said, "A wish."

The chant dropped to a whisper. The members of the court leaned forward, and out of the expectant silence there appeared a dragon.

The great hall gave a collective gasp, Renne's breath caught in her throat and the audience burst into applause. Beneath the noise of amazement and acclaim, her chair scraped back and Renne descended the steps of the dais to the banquet floor. Her legs no longer felt stiff, the tingle in her feet went unheeded. Elair bowed and stepped aside to let her enter the circle.

She didn't realize Prince Ninian had accompanied her until he took her elbow to hold her back and asked, "Is it safe?"

Renne shrugged him off, deaf to the answer, blind to her own breach of etiquette, and stepped through the circle of wizards. Unable to tear her eyes away from the lithe, sinuous body of the beast in front of her. It was wrapped in silver chains, the links of which rippled in Renne's vision like heat radiating off the dark rooftops of the city. A solid silver ring encircled the dragon's neck, and a razor wire of gold enwrapped its snout, keeping its mouth closed. Although it made no sound that Renne could detect, its lips were drawn back in a snarl, revealing sharp white fangs and teeth that the lore claimed could crush stone.

This close, Renne could see the quiver of the creature's muscles, and prayed he was bound by more than the fragile chains, because she was well within reach should the beast somehow free himself. Despite the threat, she'd never dreamed of actually seeing a dragon and lost herself in a minute examination.

"He is well and truly tamed, I assure you," Elair answered Prince Ninian's query.

She walked round the beast's head. Tame? No, the baleful glare, fixed on the Lady High Wizard, seemed intent on communicating that this dragon certainly was not tame.

He was sunk on his haunches, front and back legs bound beneath him like a cat ready to pounce. His chin rested on the floor in a parody of submission. Despite the strength and number of the wizards in the hall, wizards who'd protected the valley for as long as anyone living could remember, Renne knew they were all fools for thinking they could contain a beast so powerful.

* * *

"…True, the dragons were thought to be extinct," The wizard was still speaking when the princess paced around him for the second time. "Hunted for their magical nature, it is believed a dragon can grant wishes, and that a potion brewed of their blood can grant the gift of language and longevity."

"High Wizard Tamsin refuted those claims, didn't she?" The princess spoke from near his rump and Callan wanted nothing more than to sweep his tail out and knock her off her feet. Almost nothing more.

Elair's voice grated his ears when she answered, "Tamsin's experiments were performed more than four centuries ago, Highness. Academic standards have changed over the years."

Callan would have snorted if he could have. Of course, he would have roasted everyone in the room with magical flame if he could have, but the wizards' spell prevented him from doing more than snarl impotently. Only the wizards benefited from hunting dragons. Tamsin's experiments had more than proved that.

"And her claims that only those already possessed of magic can compel a wish from a magical creature?" The tiny human princess stood near his shoulder now, her eyes sweeping over his reddish-black scales with awe. Another time or place Callan might have preened with the attention. Another time or place he might have snapped her up in his jaws and mauled her just to teach the rest of them a lesson.

No. He'd go for the wizards first. Always go for the wizards first. He'd learned that lesson the hard way.

The wizard was preening under all the attention. Her tone became patronizing when she said, "It's true, in Tamsin's own words like speaks to like, magic speaks to magic. Your Highness is very knowledgeable."

The princess had stretched out a finger to trace the edge of one of his razor-sharp scales. He hoped it would cut her, but at the last second she clenched her fist and rolled her eyes. Maybe she didn't like the wizard, either.

"Setting aside the possibility of latent magic in your own bloodline—the royal family has produced magically inclined progeny in the past—if there is even a remote chance that the legends are true, given the opportunity, what is there to lose?"

A hand, or an arm, maybe a whole princess, if she tried compelling some stupid insipid wish from him.

"Shouldn't you know?" The princess asked, "Haven't you experimented? How long has this creature been in captivity?"

Too many years starved of sunlight. Too many spells. Too many claws broken, and scales stolen. But Elair was shaking her head in denial, and Callan smelled the lie before she uttered it.

"With the announcement of the Royal wedding, the Wizards of Ivory cast about for a suitable gift to celebrate this joyous alliance, Highness. We had heard stories of a dragon in hiding at the edge of the mountains. We captured it only weeks ago."

The princess turned her thoughtful gaze on him again and Callan thought he saw pity lurking there. The urge to bite her grew.

"What do I do?" She asked.

"You must touch the beast," Elair managed to sound apologetic and superior at the same time. "And tell the dragon what you wish."

Her highness looked back at the wizard doubtfully.

"It is quite safe, I assure you."

The reassurance must have been enough, or maybe it wasn't necessary at all because when the woman turned back to him she rolled her eyes and didn't hesitate to walk nearer his head, to rest her hand on his jaw and look into his eyes for the first time.

She smelled. Overwhelmingly sweet and floral, like her skin was drenched in rose petals. She leaned close and brushed the scales along his jaw and didn't cut herself on the razor edges. Her fingers and her breath smelled of warm sugar, orange peel, and cinnamon. The sweetness was cloying and Callan wanted nothing more than to swat her aside like a child's doll because he felt the magic kindling beneath her touch and knew if she made her wish he would be stripped of the last of his power in order to fulfill the geis, and his people would be lost forever.

But his flesh tingled with the spell that held him in place. Every muscle quivered beneath his scales, wings prepared for a flight that would never come. Claws extended for a fight he craved with every fibre of his being.

Then the princess leaned close, her cheek brushing his scales, her breath in his ear made him want to snarl and rake his claws over her perfect skin. She rested her other hand on his neck and Callan's jaw muscles flexed with the urge to bite her.

"If such things as wishes could be real," her voice was little more than a breath. Warmth kindled beneath the twin points of her hands on his scales. "I would wish for your freedom." Callan was truly still now, a willing stillness, confused by the woman's words and the tingle of power he felt growing beneath her hands. "Then you could come back and free me from this life, and we could both be happy."

He didn't imagine the flare of heat beneath her palms as she braced herself on his shoulder and pushed to her feel. Nor did he imagine the sizzle of one spell encountering another in the chains that bound him. His muscles bunched, the compulsion of the wish already strong enough to push through that much of the binding.

His wings flexed. The humans gasped. The princess turned quickly, her eyes wide. Then the chanting stopped. The wizards' spell complete, he was back in his cell beneath the tower, but it didn't matter. The wizards had outwitted themselves. He felt the magic of his binding unravel as the compulsion of the wish raced over him in its place.

But that magic, unwelcome as it was, could be tolerated. All he had to do was fulfill the parameters of the wish and he'd be free. Free to wreak his revenge on the foul wizards who'd held him and his people captive for more than fifty years.