heady feeling.
“Magnificent!” the wizard cried, clapping his hands. “You’re a natural, my dear boy. And more powerful than I would have imagined. Perhaps Draco’s blood runs thicker in you than I’d first thought. This is good. Very good indeed!”
Drake felt the drain as he fought the magic for control and won. He was suddenly tired, but Jenet was there, the coils of her long neck supporting him when he swayed on his feet. Fire was the dragon’s element, so Drake didn’t worry overmuch about the flames that still licked at his feet hurting her.
“Is it all right?” he asked, just to make sure.
“Your fire can never harm me,” she assured him. “Just lean on me. You’ve had a startling introduction to your magic. It’s bound to tire you at first, until you get used to it. I remember when I was just a hatchling. Managing the magic was even more tiring than learning to fly.”
“I think you have something there, Jenet.” Drake chuckled wearily as he pushed the fire out completely. It wouldn’t do to walk around all day with flaming feet.
Chapter Sixteen
Drake needed to lie down after his first lesson in magic. Mace and Krysta used the opportunity to take Gerrow and Lilith up on an invitation to train with their troops. The fair folk kept a fighting group the size of a small army ready at all times. Mace was surprised by the idea of such vigilance, but after watching them drill for just a few minutes, he understood these warriors were very serious about their calling indeed.
Punches weren’t pulled. You either evaded or got hurt. Considering the fair folk were the next best thing to immortal, Mace figured that was a luxury of their training that humans couldn’t afford to emulate. At least not among lower-ranked warriors. Elite fighters often did train with no holds barred, but it was too easy for a newcomer to make a crippling or fatal mistake.
The men and women trained together, of which Mace approved. You could never choose the sex or skill level of your enemy in a real fight, so segregating your troopers for every facet of their training didn’t serve them well at all. Krysta jumped in with both feet, joining her new friend Lilith with gusto as they moved through the figures of an intricate fighting dance. Krysta had no fear, he’d give her that, but Mace wanted to watch and learn more before he entered the fray. There was much to be learned from observing how these folk trained. Perhaps some of their teachings could be used to better serve the knights or Guard of Draconia.
Eventually, though, Mace felt he’d seen enough. The tang of battle was too tempting on his tongue, and he joined in the fighting practice, glad when he more than held his own among the elite corps of fair folk. They weren’t pulling their strikes for him, which he took as a compliment, and he returned the favor, scoring a few hits that took the fair folk by surprise.
Mace was just starting to really enjoy himself when William entered the courtyard, suited up for practice. He carried a foreign-style long-sword, like many of the fair warriors. Mace moved to the side of the square to see what would become of the smiling challenge in the young prince’s eyes.
He was not to be disappointed. Four fey swordsmen broke off from the main group—experts all, from what Mace had already observed. They surrounded the prince in a square, each taking one side, while the prince stood ready. Krysta sidled up next to Mace as the entire group stood back to watch.
What followed was a blinding display of speed and skill the likes of which Mace had never seen. The elegantly curved swords flashed in the afternoon sun, swirling in patterns too complex and fast to see clearly. William was amazing. Once again, the expert swordsmen didn’t go easy on the young prince, but he was faster than all four of them combined.
Mace realized he was watching magic at work. Somehow, the prince had learned to tap into his dragon speed and strength even more than any of his brothers. No doubt King Roland, Prince Nico and the rest of the royal princes were able to call on the strength and the fire of their dragon while in human form, but Mace had never seen nor heard of anything like this.
When the four swordsmen retreated—each having been defeated—the prince wasn’t even breathing hard.
“Now that—” Krysta nodded