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Also, in case the banishing does work, please note that I have fixed in mind a location two miles from here next to a stream, so you should be able to find a new home there. I hope you won’t mind relocating. Are you ready? Good. So am I.” I closed my eyes for a moment to gather my thoughts, and remember exactly what I had said two months ago when I inadvertently summoned the First Dragon by means of a banishing spell.
“Taken with sorrow, all I cast from me,” I said, taking strength from Baltic’s dragon fire, which still mingled with my own deep inside me. “Devoured with rage, banished so you will be.”
I opened my eyes, but nothing happened. The air didn’t shimmer; no dragon formed out of nothing; the frog wasn’t even gone. He belched at me and ran his tongue over his left eyeball, clearly not the least bit impressed.
“Maybe I didn’t concentrate hard enough. Let’s try it again.” I took another deep breath, focused my attention on thoughts of the First Dragon, and repeated the spell.
All was silent around me except for the chatter of birds in the distance and the subdued hum of a couple of bumblebees as they flitted amongst three scraggly wild rosebushes.
“Right,” I told the frog. “I see what the problem is. The first time I did this, I wasn’t trying to summon the First Dragon—I was trying to banish everyone else. So I’ll focus on that instead. You ready for a little journey? Here we go.”
I recited the spell a third time. The frog fell asleep.
“Stars and stripes forever,” I snapped, storming around the chair. I tried it four more times, but I didn’t banish so much as a blade of grass. “And I didn’t even get a banana.” The now-freed frog made an unsympathetic noise as it hopped away into the garden.
I was about to return to the house when a sort of fog swept over me . . . a cold, biting, familiar sort of fog.
“I will let you live only because you are my godson and namesake.” The man’s voice, deep and rich with sorrow, pierced the blinding whiteness.
I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself as I tried to peer through the wind and snow that were storming around me.
“I ought to kill you where you stand,” another man’s voice answered, and like the first, it was familiar. I moved toward them until two figures were visible in the nearly blinding storm. “You drove Baltic to this, drove him mad, and now he is dead. I may have killed him, but the blood is on your hands, Constantine Norka.”
“Flee while you can, Kostya,” Constantine answered, his shoulders slumped in weariness. “Go far away and hide until the remaining black dragons are no longer sought.”
“I am not afraid of you! I am not afraid of battle!”
“It would not be a battle; it would be a slaughter. Flee, I tell you. You are Toldi’s son, and I can do no less, but do not try me further. Go now, before we bring down the castle.”
“You don’t have to destroy Dauva,” Kostya said, his face dark with anger. “For god’s sake, I know you hate us, but there are innocent women and children who have sought protection inside its walls!”
Constantine shook his head, the flakes of white snow standing stark against the rich honey blond of his hair. “Ysolde sent them away. She herself told me that there was no reason to attack, since only Baltic and she remained with a handful of men.”
“Where is she? You will return her to me. I am wyvern now, and I will protect her.”
Constantine lifted his head, his expression stark. “She is dead.”
Kostya stared at him in disbelief. “How?” he finally choked out.
“You can see for yourself,” Constantine said, turning slowly and moving deeper into the storm. “I have not touched her body.”
Kostya staggered after him, both men disappearing into the whiteness that seemed to cut right through me, stripping away my breath and leaving me reeling.
It took me a while to recover from that vision, but it did tell me one thing. “This
“Taken with sorrow, all I cast from me,” I said, taking strength from Baltic’s dragon fire, which still mingled with my own deep inside me. “Devoured with rage, banished so you will be.”
I opened my eyes, but nothing happened. The air didn’t shimmer; no dragon formed out of nothing; the frog wasn’t even gone. He belched at me and ran his tongue over his left eyeball, clearly not the least bit impressed.
“Maybe I didn’t concentrate hard enough. Let’s try it again.” I took another deep breath, focused my attention on thoughts of the First Dragon, and repeated the spell.
All was silent around me except for the chatter of birds in the distance and the subdued hum of a couple of bumblebees as they flitted amongst three scraggly wild rosebushes.
“Right,” I told the frog. “I see what the problem is. The first time I did this, I wasn’t trying to summon the First Dragon—I was trying to banish everyone else. So I’ll focus on that instead. You ready for a little journey? Here we go.”
I recited the spell a third time. The frog fell asleep.
“Stars and stripes forever,” I snapped, storming around the chair. I tried it four more times, but I didn’t banish so much as a blade of grass. “And I didn’t even get a banana.” The now-freed frog made an unsympathetic noise as it hopped away into the garden.
I was about to return to the house when a sort of fog swept over me . . . a cold, biting, familiar sort of fog.
“I will let you live only because you are my godson and namesake.” The man’s voice, deep and rich with sorrow, pierced the blinding whiteness.
I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself as I tried to peer through the wind and snow that were storming around me.
“I ought to kill you where you stand,” another man’s voice answered, and like the first, it was familiar. I moved toward them until two figures were visible in the nearly blinding storm. “You drove Baltic to this, drove him mad, and now he is dead. I may have killed him, but the blood is on your hands, Constantine Norka.”
“Flee while you can, Kostya,” Constantine answered, his shoulders slumped in weariness. “Go far away and hide until the remaining black dragons are no longer sought.”
“I am not afraid of you! I am not afraid of battle!”
“It would not be a battle; it would be a slaughter. Flee, I tell you. You are Toldi’s son, and I can do no less, but do not try me further. Go now, before we bring down the castle.”
“You don’t have to destroy Dauva,” Kostya said, his face dark with anger. “For god’s sake, I know you hate us, but there are innocent women and children who have sought protection inside its walls!”
Constantine shook his head, the flakes of white snow standing stark against the rich honey blond of his hair. “Ysolde sent them away. She herself told me that there was no reason to attack, since only Baltic and she remained with a handful of men.”
“Where is she? You will return her to me. I am wyvern now, and I will protect her.”
Constantine lifted his head, his expression stark. “She is dead.”
Kostya stared at him in disbelief. “How?” he finally choked out.
“You can see for yourself,” Constantine said, turning slowly and moving deeper into the storm. “I have not touched her body.”
Kostya staggered after him, both men disappearing into the whiteness that seemed to cut right through me, stripping away my breath and leaving me reeling.
It took me a while to recover from that vision, but it did tell me one thing. “This
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