Quest for Dragon's Fire: A Young Adult Epic Fantasy Adventure (Titan Academy for Mages Book One 1) Read online

  “Yes,” Zella said, her face softening. “We both know you were born for more than scouting the skies and fighting off bandits, and basilisks. And, we know you are not deformed. You are a beautiful fairy with many talents. Don’t let your wings lessen you.”

  Tears burned Wren’s eyes as Zella stroked her cheek.

  “You’re better with a bow and arrow than half the archers in the kingdom,” Zella said. “But, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You are of age to begin your journey into womanhood—to be greater than you’ve ever dreamed.”

  Sighing, Wren looked down. “As what?”

  Pursing her lips and flickering her gaze to the tall window that looked out to the mountains, she gave Wren’s shoulders a pat.

  “You’ll know,” she said. “Soon enough.”

  Zella left her, and Wren was left with a look of vexation on her face.

  The cryptic answer was more than she’d expected, and as she headed up the stairs to her quarters, she began to wonder if there was something Zella knew about her that she didn’t know herself.

  Disheartened, and with blood staining her hands, she trudged up the staircase to her private sleeping quarters. While most mages were brought to the Academy as adolescents at the first sign of their magical ability, this had been her home since she was a baby. From what she’d been told, she’d been found nearly dead, and covered in blood in one of the villages that had once belonged to the fallen kingdom of Solaris—a village destroyed by a dark Titan.

  How she survived, and who cut off her wings, was a mystery.

  As she fell asleep that night, a whisper in the dark made her eyes pop back open.

  “Mine,” a raspy voice purred.

  4

  The next morning, Wren awakened and prepared for her last week of training at the Academy. She’d barely been able to sleep after being scolded by Zella.

  It was time to act more like an adult, and resist her urges to show off. She’d already proven herself, but it never seemed to be enough.

  Soon, she’d be set free and sent to live in the barracks with the rest of the Dragon Elite.

  She walked the white path that crisscrossed through the grounds of the Academy, her bag hanging on her hip with the materials she’d need for her lessons.

  Fall began to turn the leaves from green to a myriad of shades of gold and yellow, red and orange, brown and purple. The ivy on the side of the main building turned a deep ruby red, and the leaves shiny and rich.

  She’d miss this place, and the comfort she’d felt during her time as its ward and student. She sighed as she peered up at the pointed tops of the towers that stretched high into the clouds. She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her cheeks, and breathed in the scent of The Vale.

  “Morning,” Flint said, breaking her from her thoughts.

  She opened her eyes and frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged, and turned to walk backward, away from her. A cocky grin came to his face. “I’ve been asked to train a class.”

  “Which one?” Jealousy bubbled up from her gut. He was only two years older than her and already had a teaching position. How could he do that and lead the Elite?

  She folded her arms across her chest, and eyed him.

  “Nothing too important,” he said, and laughed, turning away from her.

  Great.

  She just hoped he wouldn’t show up in one of her final lessons.

  She already had enough of him during her Elite training and missions. And, within days, she’d be sharing sleeping quarters with him and the other young men of their squad.

  She shuddered, but it was the only way they’d ever accept her. It wasn’t as though Master Alistair and Zella were putting her out.

  It was her choice.

  Sighing, she headed to the tunnels under the colosseum, where students had painted murals and pictures from their Dreamwalks with High Cleric Posey, the Dream Master.

  She stepped into the coliseum, gazing up at the hundreds of students who were in attendance and prepared for one of their most important lessons. Relief washed over her that Hazel had saved her a seat. She settled into a row beside her.

  She looked like sunlight personified, in a bright yellow frock that matched her cheerful disposition. Her eyes were the color of her name, a bright blend of green and gold, and her hair was a long, wavy gold.

  To be an elf and beautiful.

  “You’re late,” Hazel said.

  Wren shrugged. “You’re always early.”

  A soft chuckle arose from her friend, but was quickly cut off as a hush filled their surroundings.

  Everyone silenced themselves as Master Alistair entered the coliseum, his aura bright and crisscrossing around his body as he stood in the center. Rings of golden light encircled him, and Wren and the others marveled at how strong his power was—how controlled it seemed to be.

  She only wished she could harness her inner power in such a way.

  Master Alistair had a story for every event, major or minor, making it sound like he’d been there in person. He encouraged his students to interrupt his lectures if they had questions. Those interruptions led to interesting discussions of the Elders and the Ancients, and the gods of Aden.

  “We’re going riding tomorrow,” Hazel whispered, interrupting Wren’s notes on her leather journal.

  She lifted a brow and glanced at her. “North is coming as well?”

  Hazel nodded. “Of course.”

  It was something to look forward to.

  Wren headed back to her quarters after a day of lessons. When she went up the narrow staircase, she caught sight of a messenger at her door.

  That’s odd.

  She never received a message or parcel during her entire time in the Academy. She had no family who would send her anything.

  Nonetheless, Wren shot him a smile as she started down the hallway, but his voice stopped her.

  “Ah, you’re here,” he said. “A parcel.”

  She stared at the chest he pulled from his bag, and up to see him smiling, dimples forming at the corners of his mouth.

  “Everything okay, Wrenessa Grey?”

  She looked up from the chest. “Yes,” she said, her throat a bit dry. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and went back to his sorting of his bag.

  Wren hurried into her room, and closed the door behind her. An excitement rose within her chest. She’d forgotten to close the shutters, and a chilly fall wind blew in. She quickly pulled a cloak over her arms and settled onto the soft rug on her floor.

  Was this a gift for her birthday?

  She was unsure. There wasn’t a message, or anything to give her a clue as to who sent it to her.

  Tears threatened to come forward, and she willed them away, blinking any moisture away.

  A gift was something special. No matter what was in that box, she would cherish it for the rest of her days.

  Bright embellishments decorated the small chest, and caught the light spilling in from the open window.

  Inhaling, she opened the lid.

  Inside, there was plush, velvet with a jewel in the center.

  She gasped.

  It couldn’t be.

  An energy stone?

  Those were only given to the highest of clerics.

  “No,” she said, frowning as she eyed the mysterious jewel. “It truly couldn’t be that at all.”

  At first, it was a blue deeper than the midnight sky with brilliant streaks and emerald flecks. Then, it changed colors to that of honey, and seemed to be lit from within. It then shimmered as though made of water, and nearly took her breath away.

  Wren had never seen anything so beautiful—not outside of her dreams.

  She reached for it, but the instant her fingers touched the stone a surge of energy shot through her like liquid fire. It flowed through every nerve, muscle, and bone. She felt the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rise. Her vision filled with the reds and blues and greens
, and the whoosh of air and wind that encircled her.

  A bright light appeared before her, and golden flames filled the room.

  That was the last thing she saw before her vision went black.

  5

  The tree was white, with black leaves, and grooves marked red by the crimson blood that trailed downward.

  Once, it had been lush with glittering flowers and a constant stream of pixies flying in and out of the thick mist that hovered around it like a fog. It gave life and power to all of those who sat beneath its canopy of leaves.

  The Mother Tree.

  It stood in the center of The Vale, with miles of green meadows stretching outward toward the mountains.

  Flint gazed upward at the dying leaves that crumbled into black dust at his gentle touch.

  His heart seized with sorrow for what he and Reed witnessed.

  “This cannot be happening,” Reed said, removing his cap as he fell to his knees.

  “Aye,” Flint said. “But, it is. Something isn’t right here. Something sinister is at work.”

  “The Mother Tree is dying?”

  They looked to one another and Flint nodded his head.

  Reed’s eyes went to the grass as he lowered his head.

  “What will happen to The Vale if the Mother Tree no longer sustains our realm? Will we have to leave?”

  “Come, we must tell Master Alistair,” Flint said, and whistled for his dragon. “The Academy has to have a solution.”

  Hope filled Reed’s gaze. “Perhaps he can do something.”

  “We can only hope,” Flint said, as he climbed on the dragon’s back, and took to the sky.

  6

  Wren opened her eyes to stone walls and a large tree with branches that curved upward toward the glass ceiling that covered the entire dome-shaped building.

  What happened?

  Struggling to sit up, she looked around the room, as confusion flooded her memory. It smelled of orange and mint oil, and fresh flowers. Hazel sat in a chair beside her bed, scribbling in her journal.

  “You’re awake!” Hazel sprang up from the chair, her eyes wide with surprise. “Don’t move,” she said, and ran for the open door.

  Wren began to call for her, only to find her throat was dry, and her voice was raspy. She cleared her throat and reached for a cup of water on the nook carved into the wall.

  She was back a moment later, nearly breathless. A healer fairy, with blue wings fluttered inside. Her hair was gray, but not from age, and bounced in tight curls around her small face. She wore a pale blue gown and apron, with butterflies embroidered into the fabric.

  Hazel smiled with relief, as the healer closed her eyes and held them over Wren’s body.

  “What happened?” She was in one of the infirmary rooms, with a small Mother tree grown from the seeds of the original tree that shielded The Vale from the rest of the world. It would heal her faster, and bring comfort.

  She sighed, feeling its healing properties. Still, frustration threatened to overwhelm her.

  The last thing Wren remembered was opening the mysterious chest with the jewel.

  “Your maids found you on the floor of your room, and couldn’t awaken you.”

  “Just a bit of fatigue,” the healer said, with certainty, as she lowered her hands and smiled at her. “You just need a bit of rest.”

  “Are you certain?” Wren asked, unsure.

  “Do you feel any pain?”

  She shook her head. Other than being a bit disoriented, she felt fine.

  Brilliant actually.

  “Good. You did worry us a bit, dear. You haven’t moved or opened your eyes in three days,” she said, and smiled down at Hazel. “And, neither has your friend.”

  That made Wren smile as well. Hazel took her by the hand, and gave it a squeeze.

  “Am I free to return to the Elite now?” She couldn’t imagine how much she’d missed, or what missions she’d been unable to take.

  “Well, you do seem to be fine now. I did check for any energy blockages or injuries, and all I found were areas of profound fatigue. So, I think its best if you stay for another day. Someone has to force you to rest, it seems.”

  Wren sighed. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

  Flint would surely make her work twice as hard at their drills back at the barracks.

  “Rest, and I’ll have someone bring lunch and tea for the both of you.”

  After the healer left, Hazel sat beside her once more and stared at her neck.

  For a moment, she stood there, brows furrowed in confusion.

  There was something she was supposed to remember when she woke up, but it was a faint memory that flew away as soon as she tried to grab it. Sinister whisperings. Darkness. Death.

  She shuddered.

  “What’s wrong?” Hazel asked, lowering the tunic she had in her hands.

  Wren shook her head. “I don’t remember,” she said, softly. “I think I had a dream, an important one.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, it’ll return to you if it was very important. She frowned. “Where did you get that amazing necklace?”

  Wren could feel her cheeks pale, and eyes widen as she looked down to see the stone that had knocked her out, secured to a silver necklace, and hanging around her neck.

  Who put this on me?

  7

  Wren examined her necklace, baffled by its presence, and what it had done to her the first time she’d touched it. Hazel left to get some sleep, and Master Alistair came to check on her. Despite being the headmaster and protector of The Vale, he was the only father figure she had ever had.

  He had to duck to step into the small room, his long hair pulled back at his nape. She smiled at him as she noticed he brought the most beautiful flowers, and handed them to her.

  She buried her face into the blossoms, breathing them in and hoped he didn’t notice when she blinked back tears. The flowers were from the Valley of the Saints, and had healing properties. They were a rare breed that he grew in his office, and refused to let anyone so much as touch them.

  “Slacking on your lessons, I see,” he said. “Mischief maker.”

  She couldn’t help but smile, sensing he spoke in jest.

  Pulling a chair closer to the bed, he sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

  “I’m happy to hear that you’re on the mend, Wrenessa. You frightened Zella and I, and many of the students and staff.”

  Wren didn’t answer right away. She wasn’t sure she could trust her voice. She wasn’t used to having anyone actually care what happened to her.

  “I’m not sure what happened,” she said, and held the necklace outward, and away from her. She’d been able to touch it ever since she’d noticed it was around her neck, but it still frightened her.

  “What is that?” Master Alistair asked, narrowing his eyes at the jewel.

  She shrugged. “I wish I knew. Someone sent it to me,” she explained. “I’m sure this is what made me black out in the first place.”

  “Interesting,” he said, and scratched his chin. “Who do you suppose sent it?”

  “I have no idea. Perhaps the king of Saldoria? For killing the basilisk?”

  “Hmm.”

  She chuckled. “I suppose that does sound unlikely. He barely wanted me to take the mission.”

  “Well,” Master Alistair said, leaning back in the chair. “It isn’t entirely impossible. I do wonder why it caused such a fuss.”

  “Is it an energy stone?” Wren asked.

  He eyed it, and shook his head. “I don’t believe so. I’m not getting that from it. Perhaps—”

  When he paused, her interest sparked, and she sat up taller.

  “Perhaps, what, Master?”

  He stood, and stared down at her in silence. As he looked at her, a slight glow filled his eyes and she found herself holding her breath.

  Something had changed.

  “I’m sure its just a simple jewel. Beautiful, but nothing to worry about.”<
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  Her brows furrowed, and he turned to leave. Before he did so, he gave a glance over his shoulder.

  There was so much in his gaze that she couldn’t comprehend.

  “Make sure you get well soon, Wrenessa,” he said. “The world needs you to be at your best.”

  With that, he left, and Wren slumped back into her pillow, more confused than ever.

  8

  Days passed after the arrival of Wren’s mysterious jewel.

  “Wake up, Wren,” a familiar voice sang, waking her from her dreams.

  Wren groaned, her eyes opened to see the face of one of her oldest friends, Hazel.

  “Up, up,” Hazel said.

  Wren frowned, annoyed to see the sun had barely risen outside of her window.

  “I’d planned on sleeping until noon,” Wren said.

  Hazel handed her a cup of hot tea. Despite her annoyance, she accepted, and sat up to sip the fragrant brew.

  With the first sip, she already began to feel a bit better. Her fatigue was replaced with a surge of vitality, and the thick honey soothed her dry tongue and throat.

  Lifting her brow, she sniffed the tea, and eyed Hazel.

  “Ginseng and ginger?”

  Nodding, Hazel walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out a pair of leather pants and one of Wren’s favorite tunics.

  “Yes,” she said, holding up the tunic against her body as she stood in the full-length mirror that stood in the back corner beside a wooden, frame divider that shielded her washing basin from the rest of the room. “Now, drink it down and hurry. We’re meeting North at the stables for a ride.”

  Wren yawned, and drank more of the tea, delighted by how it warmed her from the inside.

  She left the comfort of her bed and stretched as she flung her legs over the side. She stepped onto the cold, wooden floor and stood. She was a bit taller than Hazel, and with more curvaceous build compared to her friend’s slim frame.