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Hoards magic?“Doesn’t a hoard imply something that is kept and not used?” My head tilted as I considered this.
“Exactly.” Sigurd nodded and took another drink.
“But he’s taking magic from beings. How is he doing it?” I asked.
“People of Drakor have an unbelievable sense of direction for items they want to hoard and an uncanny way of taking what they want if it doesn’t belong to them.”
“He has other powers that allow him to collect magic?” I recalled Nisha telling me how he’d been able to draw on the darkness in the hearts of my parents to ensure I was truly broken before he married me.But is that his dragon, or just manipulation?
“As I said, it’s uncanny.”
I shook my head free of the memories and concentrated. “Fafnir’s hoard is magic. So, he’s taking it and putting it somewhere? But you said you believed he was trying to use it to portal.”
Sigurd nodded and leaned back into the sofa, settling in to tell a long tale. “Fafnir’s father, Hreithmar, was cast out of Drakor. My parents often told us of the day it happened because they were guarding the portal he was pushed through. The portals hadn’t been used since the fall. They hadn’t ever witnessed someone coming through before, but when a beaten male collapsed in front of them, pleading for mercy, they spared him.”
“I’m forever learning things about my ancestors that make me stabby.”Charlie’s sigh echoed in my mind, and I gave him a sympathetic smile.
Sigurd must have read the thoughts on our faces, because he said, “I agree. Had my parents known the problems his son would create, I know they would have chosen differently.”
But if he’d never been born, I wouldn’t be here.I wouldn’t have taken my life, I wouldn’t have been reborn a familiar, and I wouldn’t have ever met Charlie or Zaide or Baelen. And it hurt my heart just thinking that I could have missed out on them.
“Hreithmar …” Charlie repeated hesitantly, wrapping his lips around the old name. “He knew about the natural portal because he came through one. Maybe he told Fafnir about them, and that’s why he targeted your family?”
Sigurd shook his head. “They swore him to secrecy in exchange for his life.”
“And he said he’d been cast out of Drakor?” Charlie continued, rubbing his head. “It’s not a great way to convince someone you aren’t dangerous.”
“He told them his magic was different to others of his race and he was therefore beaten and rejected. He leaned on their sympathy, and they helped him,” Sigurd explained.
“He had the same power as Fafnir? To steal magic?” Charlie narrowed his eyes, and his fingers tapped anxiously against his leg.
I knew what he was thinking just from looking at him. His birth mother was concerned that because the males in the family turned into magic-stealing dragons, the same would happen to him.“You haven’t turned into a dragon. You don’t steal magic. You have your own magic,”I told him. His eyes flicked to me but returned quickly to Sigurd.
The protector shrugged. “I believe he also hoarded something intangible, but he didn’t attack anyone or take magic, so I’m unsure what, exactly, his dragon desired.”
“So, your parents helped him and had you, and at some point, he must have had Fafnir?” Charlie asked.
“Correct. He stayed in the same village, and Fafnir and I grew up together.”
“You grew up together?” I asked, my distaste clear in my wrinkled nose.
“We were not friends,” he assured me. “His mother was a witch from a nearby coven but quickly died after his birth. Hreithmar’s mind deteriorated, and Fafnir dealt with a man who often forgot his existence, punished him lawlessly, and could often be found lying in the main square, talking to the earth.”
Everything seemed to stop. The small, unnoticeable noises were gone. There was no movement. I existed in a frozen space with my thoughts. And I could see it. I could see a little boy wandering around a farm, gently stroking the animals while his father screamed inside a small home. I saw the fear in his eyes. His little legs were shaking. The scene changed, and suddenly, I was watching the boy, even younger, surrounded by other children, observing them all. There seemed to be a bubble around him all the children moved around. No one approached him. Spoke to him. Or even looked in his eye. He was completely alone. Different.
As the images cleared, leaving me back in the room, my heart squeezed, and my eyes welled. I could barely concentrate on the story Sigurd continued with.
“My parents tried to intervene, but to no avail.” Sigurd’s jaw tensed. “On Fafnir’s twelfth birthday, he changed. His eyes flashed yellow, his body shimmered with scales, and he transformed into a dragon. We were not afraid, since we knew this was possible, but in his next breath, he picked up another child and crushed them in his jaw. As we all rushed to contain him, he flew off, and we realized a more sinister fate. The child he’d crushed had also been drained of his magic.”
“Evil—“ Charlie started.
But I interrupted, “He was only a child himself.”
“Nah. No. Stop.” Charlie raised a hand and shook his head. “I don’t care if he was five and told to take magic to save his dying sibling. Fafnir’s evil.”
“No child is evil,” I told him sincerely, seriously, staring into his eyes.
Charlie clenched his teeth and whispered, “Clawdia, the man tried to rape you and take your magic.”
