Page 55 of Redeeming the Dragon

At any rate, the thought had scarcely formed when the Simathe shifted on his stump after sitting there as mute as a statue for quite a span.

“What did Braisley say of the caverns?” he asked.

Caught off guard, I blinked rapidly. I’d laid out my heart and soul before this warrior, and he asked me of the caverns? What had the caverns to do with anything?

I could not be disrespectful, however.

“She said little,” I replied with a confused shrug. “Prince Kidron told me they were the very heart of Aerisia, housing its magic.”

At this, the Simathe’s fathomless gaze pierced mine. Those deep black eyes glittered strangely when compared to the grey sky behind him, warning of mysteries I’d never pierce.

Finally, he said, “The Warkin prince has connections to old and deep magic.”

I was certain there was far, far more to the matter than this. Nevertheless, I switched the subject, asking boldly, “In all of your travels, have you heard of Moonswept, a place that lies east of the sun and west of the moon?”

“Heard, aye. Visited, nay.”

My heart plummeted. If this Simathe, an ancient wanderer of our world, could not tell me the way Kidron had gone, who could?

“But I know of another who might be able to help,” he said, and my heart leapt in my chest. Hope flared like a beacon in the nighttime sky.

I jumped to my feet, shaking off the Simathe’s blanket and dusting at my trousers.

“Will you take me to this person? I am ready to leave!” I announced.

The Simathe stood too, towering over me. I’d never seen a man so tall, and involuntarily shrank from the fearsome sight he presented with his alien eyes and hair, his prodigious height, and his massive sword.

“We’d not reach her in time to help your prince,” he stated.

“Oh no.” My face, my hopes, fell. Why had he mentioned this woman at all, if we couldn’t reach her in time?

“Enough of the mirror and fairy magic should remain to take you to her,” he said quietly, “You’ll have to enhance it with your magic.”

My head came up. In the sky, a carrion bird wheeled by, seeking food, seeking life from death. Its grim presence seemed a harbinger of doom. I was not dissuaded. My life had been little except doom ever since the dragon had appeared in the storm. If I could bring life from that doom, was I not obligated to do so?

“I don’t know how to use my magic,” I admitted quietly. “I’ve scarcely seen it.”

“Braisley told you of it,” the Simathe reminded me.

“Aye, but…”

I flipped my palm over to study it. The green light had come from my hand. Braisley had studied my hand. What had she called it? A coaxing magic. A persuasive magic. How did one utilize such a skill?

“I lack magic,” the immortal warrior said. “I cannot guide you. This, you must do yourself.”

“I am trying,” I murmured, gazing hard at my hand, focusing on memories of the strange emerald glow.

“Without knowing where to go?” I glanced up at the question. The Simathe quirked the smallest smile, there and gone so quickly I thought I’d imagined it. “That might be helpful.”

I blinked a couple of times, then allowed the tension to slough off my shoulders. “You are right,” I said, permitting a smile. “Knowing where to go, and to whom, might indeed be helpful.”

Chapter 32

Before I departed, the immortal warrior offered further advice. I should not force the magic. I should allow the magic. I should recall the mirror, recall the sensation of Braisley’s power, recall anything I could of my own power, and permit that to drive me onward.

I said to him, “You claimed you lack magic. How can you advise me on how to use mine?”

I meant no disrespect, nor did he take it as such. He simply gazed at me, those eerie deep eyes seeming to hold all the mysteries of the realm.

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