Magical Arts Academy 11: Dragon's Fury

  Copyright 2018 Lucía Ashta.

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Awaken to Peace Press.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Cover design by Mirela Barbu.

  Edited by Elsa Crites.

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  About Dragon’s Fury

  What if you were trapped in your own mind? Would it make the castle that truly imprisoned you any better?

  The Dark Sorcerer underestimates the magicians’ abilities, but his plan is sound, and they’re caged, just as he intended.

  The magicians conceal powers and secrets, but they aren’t yet aware of them. Will they find the way to overcome the dark spell that appears unbreakable? Or will the Sorcerer succeed in crushing all hope and making them his prisoners forever?

  For Sonia, Nadia, and Catia,

  always for you,

  with all my love.

  Believe in yourself.

  Always.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Magic Ignites - Book 12

  Make a difference

  Acknowledgments

  Read more by Lucía Ashta

  About the author

  Chapter 1

  “The door won’t open,” Trevor said, sharing a look with his wife Delilah that was so somber that I was able to make it out from the back of the line where I stood.

  “Push harder,” Nicholas told his father.

  I sucked in a sharp breath although I didn’t think Nicholas had meant to be insolent (this time). Clearly Trevor was working hard to get us out of here. We were all doing our best.

  Trevor heaved against the door, grunting for good measure, but the massive double door didn’t so much as squeak. “It’s no good. It won’t open.”

  “Let me try,” Nicholas said.

  His father stared at his oldest son, but finally gave him access to the door. Immediately after though, he turned his attention to the senior magicians in the group. I got the feeling that none of us expected Nicholas to manage what his father hadn’t.

  “Do you think the spell didn’t break after all?” Trevor asked Mordecai, Albacus’ ghost, and Grand Witch Tillsdale. They were the most accomplished magicians among our numbers, though several of the others were experts in concentrated areas of the magical arts as well.

  “No,” Giselle was shaking her head. “The spell broke. I felt it break, I’m sure of it.” The torch Trevor carried cast grim shadows across her face. In this light, she looked fierce.

  “I got every word of the spell correct,” Sir Lancelot piped up from where he perched on Brave’s shoulder. “I’m certain.”

  “I don’t doubt your accuracy,” Giselle said. “At least, not any more.” She didn’t bother looking sheepish at her admission that she hadn’t trusted the owl in the beginning. “The spell broke. Whatever’s going on must be something else.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Mordecai said. His fingers wove through his long beard, a sure sign that he was turning a problem over in his mind.

  “What do you mean, you’re not sure?” Giselle snapped. “The spell is clearly broken. I’ve begun to feel my powers coming back, and Prudence has finally stopped wailing.”

  It was true. Madame Pimlish, while not back to her usual self, wasn’t whimpering as she had been. She was sniffling, but she was quieter than she’d been for hours.

  Now that I thought of it, my brain wasn’t quite as foggy as before either.

  “Yes, I realize that, but something is... off. Albacus?”

  The ghost, who looked so much like his brother, was pensive for a few moments longer while we all waited for his response. “I sense it too,” he finally said. “There’s something there, and I think it extends beyond my own personal curse.” He added some resentment to his final pronouncement, and I supposed I would too. Maurisse had singled Albacus out and added an additional spell to imprison him.

  “Exactly,” Mordecai said. “There’s something there. What, though?”

  “It seems perhaps to be the underlying framework of the spell. What do you think of that, Mordecai?” Albacus said.

  A ghost swooped low overhead, and I ducked.

  “What is it, Isa?” Nando asked immediately, alarmed by my sudden movement.

  “It’s just....” I sighed. I’d forgotten that I was the only one there that could see any of the spirits beyond Albacus’. “It was a spirit. He flew really close to our heads.”

  “You can still see them?”

  “Yes.” Did he think I’d stop being able to see them all of a sudden? The fact that I’d died and returned to life—the reason I could see the spirits in the first place—hadn’t changed. I’d died, and as much as neither Nando nor I wanted to reflect on that, it had happened. I simply said, “I’ll probably always be able to see ghosts.”

  I shrugged, attempting to act as if it was no big deal and the notion of interacting with ghosts the rest of my life wasn’t freaking me out.

  The look on his face told me I hadn’t convinced him. He was worried about me.

  The ghost, who was now bobbing above Albacus and Mordecai, said, “I think it is the framework of the spell. It’s a weaving of some sort, some fundamental layer.”

  Albacus relayed what the ghost had said immediately, before Giselle or anyone else could speak. “Malachai agrees.”

  “Hmmph,” Giselle said. When no one jumped to say anything in response, she added, “Well? If you, your brother, and another ghost are the only ones who can see this framework or whatever it is, get to ridding us of it.”

  “They aren’t the only ones who can see it,” Clara said, stepping forward.

  The entryway to the castle was relatively large, but there were a whole lot of us there. Even with the additional space, which felt much more open than the dungeon, we were still cramped. Add to that our collective desperation to escape, and I was beginning to experience a sense of claustrophobia.

  “I need to get out of here,” I whispered to Nando, feeling myself grow dizzy.

  “I know. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out. You’ll start remembering things soon.”

  Nando had assumed that’s what I meant. I couldn’t blame him, especially when I hadn’t told him I was beginning to feel better. “I’m already remembering things. My brain is starting to work again.”

  “Really?” Nando quirked his eyebrows up in question.

  I nodded. “Really.”

  He studied me a few seconds longer. “Good.”

  It was better than good, which made me suspect I wasn’t being very convincing. I just had to get out of this castle.

  A particularly sharp whimper from Holly, the hound, reminded me that others needed to escape worse than I did.

  I pinned my attention back on what was going on at the front of our gathering, and internally scolded myself for getting distracted. I’d missed whatever had happened with Clara and Marcelo, ever at her side during dangerous situations.

  “I’ll start now,” Clara was saying. I had no idea what she was going to be starting.

  I sighed. I wasn’t back to my usual self yet.

  “Everyone might want to back away. Give me some space. I’m not sure how the elements are going to react to what I’m about to attempt.”

  A dragon, hellhounds, and firedrakes were the first to
begin shuffling backward down the ramp, and I wondered if it were some kind of animal instinct toward self-preservation. They’d reacted right away.

  “They all understand what we say,” I said to Nando, awe evident in my voice.

  “Apparently,” he muttered, staring at the shuffling retreat.

  I need to get out of here, I thought. The feeling was becoming urgent. I had to tamp it down, because all I wanted then was to push everyone out of my way and burst forth into the clean air and sunshine.

  I forced myself to breathe regularly before I could spiral into a full-blown panic.

  The swell of the others moving pushed me backward. Nando latched onto my arm so I wouldn’t get separated from him.

  “That should be enough, shouldn’t it?” Giselle asked of Clara.

  “Outside the castle and down by the caves where we started might not be enough, but let’s hope it is.”

  That wasn’t particularly encouraging.

  “Albacus,” Clara added, “I’m going to work on the additional spell placed on you too.”

  The ghost was surprised at first, then smiled wanly. “Thank you, Clara. I’d appreciate that.” I realized then how much Albacus wanted to join his brother when he left this place.

  If he left this place. If any of us managed to leave....

  Clara closed her eyes. I expected to see her lips start moving as she muttered a spell beneath her breath, just as the other magicians did, but it never happened. That’s when I remembered that Clara didn’t do magic like everyone else. She didn’t use spells. Rather, she accessed magic through its basic elements directly—or something like that.

  Nothing changed for a few minutes. Holly continued to whine with labor pains, and Arianne, Gustave, and Madame Pimlish gradually quieted their previously vocal complaints. Other than that, the environment in the castle settled back into its oppressive heaviness.

  Then things definitely started to change. The air, which had been so still as to be uncomfortable, whipped into a frenzy, charged with that electric spark that I’d begun to associate with the practice of magic. As if Clara were engulfing us in the eye of the storm, everything around us began to move at once.

  I closed the gap between Nando and me, pressing myself against his side again. Immediately, he wrapped a protective arm around me, while he trained a wary gaze on Clara.

  Her long red hair whipped around her head in every direction, making the stillness of her facial expressions seem all the more significant.

  The air whistled and howled, amassing strength.

  A gust raced through the enclosed hall we occupied, knocking me forward half a step. Nando pulled me back against him hard, guiding my head against his shoulder to protect me from the worst of it.

  Another violent gale tore through the space, moving in too many directions at once. The sound of the wind was enough to drown out any cries of surprise. Not even Madame Pimlish managed to make her complaints heard above the roar.

  If Clara can gather this much force in so little time, why would anyone think I’m anything like her? I would’ve asked the question aloud, because I would have really liked an answer to it, but I figured not even Nando would be able to hear me.

  Strands of my hair flew loose of their braid and lashed against my eyes.

  The wind picked up speed and ferocity.

  I scrunched my eyes shut against the onslaught and turned fully toward Nando, so that I could shield as much of the front of my body as possible. He wrapped both arms around me and tucked his face against the top of my head. He’d obviously sheathed his sword again at some point. As much as my brother favored the sword, there was next to nothing traditional weapons could do to fight against magic.

  As usual, Nando and I were unprepared, forced to do what we could on instinct to protect ourselves. Given that I’d already died, it was obvious we needed to better prepare. Maybe we’d finally get to regular classes after all this was over.

  If I don’t die again.

  I hadn’t wanted to have the thought. It’d happened without my permission. But now I realized that was what I feared. Even worse, I was afraid that Nando would join me in death, and that wouldn’t do at all.

  A particularly ferocious lash of wind snapped at us. Without deciding to, I opened myself up to the possibility of doing something to contribute.

  It was subtle. An opening of the mind to ideas. A readiness in my body to allow magic to run through it. A rejection of fear and a search for faith... and the action that would accompany it.

  But I didn’t get a chance to do much more than that.

  A growl, loud and vicious, cut through the howling of the wind—an impressive feat.

  I whirled out of Nando’s protective hold… and there was Miranda, the witch who was powerful enough to be second-in-command of the SMS.

  So many things happened at once that I didn’t succeed in processing them all. Shock at the wicked sorceress’ appearance rocketed through me as a blur of movement caught my eye.

  Before anybody was able to react, Miranda snatched Priscilla from our ranks. The vampire, who didn’t react to much of anything, reacted now.

  Clara’s wind continued to lash and rumble and threaten to tear down the castle itself.

  But I was riveted by the apparent abduction taking place right in front of me that I was helpless to stop.

  Chapter 2

  I could tell that everything around me was happening quickly, yet my mind processed the events as if they were taking place in slow motion. No matter how slowly or fast they were occurring, I was powerless to intervene.

  Miranda had yanked Priscilla away from the rest of us. She twisted the vampire’s arms behind her back and pinned them there, then pressed her back against the front of her own body.

  My understanding was that vampires were both unusually fast and extraordinarily strong. Yet Miranda had complete control over the other woman.

  Priscilla appeared to be in her early twenties, while Miranda looked to be around Arianne’s age. Miranda’s dominance was so apparent that I wondered if she weren’t using some kind of magic to bolster her strength. From the numbered spells I’d seen, there seemed little that magic couldn’t accomplish, especially when the sorcerer had no qualms about employing dark magic.

  For her part, Priscilla wasn’t panicking, though her eyes were wide as she met her brother’s.

  Then, in a flash, Miranda vanished with Priscilla. I gasped despite myself, the sound lost to the howls of Clara’s raging wind.

  I wasn’t sure how many of those with me had registered what happened. The wind that lashed at us was so overpowering it was difficult to think, let alone process what was occurring outside of oneself.

  But I could be sure that Count Vabu noticed. The normally impassive protector seethed with a latent fury that frightened me nearly as much as Clara’s wind. Thankfully, his anger wasn’t directed at me.

  A pop sounded loudly, enough to overcome the howling air. I assumed it was perhaps Miranda appearing somewhere else in the castle with her hostage, but I couldn’t be sure. I searched the darkness beyond what our few scattered torches illuminated, and came up with nothing. If Miranda and Priscilla were out there, I didn’t see them.

  It looked as if Count Vabu did, though. He stalked with purpose in the opposite direction of the door. Then, he moved so quickly that he was nothing more than a streak of color that faded into the pitch blackness that enveloped the rest of the castle.

  “Do you see them?” I shouted at Nando, despite the fact that he was right next to me. It was the only way to guarantee he’d hear me. If anything, the wind Clara had summoned had become louder since Miranda showed up.

  “Yes!” Nando yelled. “There’s some kind of open alcove past the ramp we took. Miranda is holding Priscilla there.”

  “Should she continue?” Marcelo shouted to Mordecai, Albacus, and Giselle. For an instant, I wondered why Clara hadn’t been the one to ask the question, but it seemed logical that she couldn’t distrac
t her focus to consider things like that. How she was harnessing—or was it directing?—a force as great as this wind was remarkable. I wouldn’t have believed it possible if I weren’t right here while she was doing it. She’d created a formidable storm.

  “Can she stop once she’s in the middle of something like this?” Giselle yelled at Marcelo.

  Marcelo nodded, dark hair sliding across his face while his piercing blue eyes remained sharp as a blade. “She can stop, but not easily.” An especially intense slap of wind ratcheted through the hall, and he shielded his face with his arm. Once it barreled past him, he added, “It depends on how close she is to breaking the spell.”

  “The spell’s already broken!” Giselle said, and I wondered why she’d waste effort on repeating what she’d already said, especially when it was clear we couldn’t leave the castle.

  “Pride,” Nando yelled into my ear, as if he’d been reading my mind. More likely, he’d been following my line of sight.

  Marcelo ignored the grand witch, looking to Mordecai instead. “Do I need to try to stop her?”

  Mordecai’s long braids floated and slashed around his head like a nest of vipers. The effect was to make Albacus seem all the more dead. The ghost, who looked very much like his brother except for his translucence, was entirely still. Not even the violence of the air could touch him now.

  Mordecai shook his head and said something, but his voice didn’t carry to where I was, even though it was clear from the strain on his face that he was speaking as loudly as he could. Whatever he said, he’d apparently indicated that Marcelo shouldn’t interrupt Clara, because she continued with what she was doing while her husband returned to watching her. I suspected he monitored her for any sign that he needed to intervene to save her—from what, I didn’t know, but I suspected he might have to save her from herself.