The Last Wand of Astar

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

At least that’s what Helen had been told growing up, but dragons used to be everywhere and if they used to be everywhere why didn’t they live in the high western peaks of the Enchantments? That part didn’t make sense but the dragons were here now, tucked back into the little piece land that had become their prison—at least what was left of them.

Some said there were a dozen dragons left, some said half that, some a little too deep in their bottles would say there would be a dragonling before years end, but that rumor had been going on for centuries. And then there were the people who claimed the survivors were the size of the mountains with fire so strong twenty ice mages couldn’t bring them down. Scales so hard a cannon ball would turn to dust upon impact. Fangs as thick as a wine barrel. Tails as long as a train cart. Wings like ship sales.

The list went on and on.

But if any of those things were true, how were the dragons hunted to the brink of extinction to make wands? Were they tricked? Were they just not that powerful?

Those were some of the things that Helen thought of as she found herself surrounded by three dragons in the Valley of Vete.

Vete seemed too heavily wooded for the home of the last fire breathers. The valley floor and surrounding peaks were lush and green, covered in old growth oak, pine, and the massive Wither trees with their crooked branches like a hand of broken fingers. Fields of flickering, golden grass flashed like a tapestry of woven sunlight, and the largest lake Helen had ever seen glittered in the afternoon light, the gentle waves stopping inches from her boots. She’d been filling her canteen when they’d dropped the from the sky with barely a sound. Most mages would have screamed and run, especially the arrogant ones who claimed they were strong enough to stand toe to toe with a dragon, but Helen was in hurry and didn’t have time to be afraid. She held her ground and made her proposition.

The dragon blinked and cocked its giant, reptilian head. “What?”

Helen noticed it used magic to vibrate the air to create sound rather than moving its lips. At least some of the stories were true.

The creature was massive, but more the size of a two-story house than a mountain. Its hide was an odd mixture of green and black, the scales changing shades as its chest moved to draw breath. Its snout was long and blunted with twin horns curling back from its skull like those of a mountain goat, and a long tail tipped with spikes swished back and forth along the beach.

“Why I’m here,” Helen said. She was mostly calm, but she had to focus to avoid unnecessary fidgeting. Back when life was simple—before she fled the capitol—she was always after her brother, Edmond, for his fidgeting. But he’d been fidgeting over a girl whereas Helen was standing in front of a dragon. “I request a trial by combat. If I win, I get a favor.”

The dragon eyed her carefully and then glanced at its companions. Helen hadn’t been sure what to expect as she hiked for three days through the pass, enchanted the soldiers at the gates, and slipped into the valley, but she wasn’t dead yet and the dragons were at least letting her speak.

“A favor?” the dragon said.

Helen nodded.

“We are not genies.”

“And I’m not asking for a wish,” Helen said.

“Hmm…” the dragon hummed, looking her up and down.

Helen waited. The stories about dragons talked of ancient, magical creatures of pure raw power born from volcanoes during the cooling of the earth. Beings of wisdom and pride that had no fear and gave no quarter in battle. The dragon in front of her, however, was just a massive, blinking animal that she’d stumped with a few words.

“Surely you jest,” the dragon said. They turned their head sideways and stared at her with a massive, silver eye. “Or I guess these days your kind would say, this is a joke.”

“It is not,” Helen said.

The dragon looked at its companions again. It didn’t seem convinced.

The dragon on her right was by the water’s edge, their scales such a dark blue they were nearly black. The third dragon was on her left with scales of such a vibrant red it was like looking at a bonfire. The green dragon was the largest, but despite their size or the colors of their scales or the spikes that ran along their backs, all of their magic felt raw and foreboding. Power in its purest form.

“A fight to the death?” the green dragon asked. “For my heartstrings? Is that what you consider a favor?”

Helen opened her mouth to reply when a shooting pain racked her stomach. She winced but managed not to cover herself up or bend over in pain. She was too far along to be doing this.

“No,” Helen said, shivering through the lingering tremor. “To submission.”

“Dragons don’t submit,” the red one said. Its voice was soft, like a warm breeze, not gravely and ancient. People really did exaggerate whatever they could. “A single human is no match. Go home, girl. Though meaningless, your lives are too short for this.”

“Oh?” Helen said, cocking her head. She didn’t have all day to get this done so she’d just have to pick a fight. “You’re that strong, are you? Then why are you here, in this valley, ringed on all sides by mages and commoners with large guns, in a fancy prison, as the last of your kind?”

Smoke poured from the red dragon’s mouth and the blue clawed at the sand, but the green one just stared at her. Magic vibrated in the air around the larger dragon but she didn’t understand any of it. Whatever was said the smaller dragons calmed, albeit begrudgingly.

“Where are you from?” the green dragon said.

“Astar.”

“Specifically.”

“Merella.”

“Ah,” the dragon said. “A mage from the capital, how wonderful. Tell me, how much longer do you think before your peace loving Astar and the Illyian kings in Scarlet fight another war? They seem to happen often since the wands rotted.” The dragon said the part about the wands with a smile and Helen wondered if they always knew one day the wands would stop working. “Wands made your countries warry and now you fight wars because you didn’t crush each other when you had the chance.”

The dragon wasn’t wrong and Helen tried not to think about the next war. Her brother had shocked Astar and joined the infantry only a week before she disappeared and if war broke out, he’d be the first royal on the front lines since the Astarian Civil War. Helen desperately wanted to tell him to be careful, that she was alive, but she couldn’t.

“The concept of war bothers you,” the dragon said, noting her silence.

“Should it not?”

The dragon tucked its wings in. “Humans are not opposed to violence that suits your purpose.”

“Why does nothing grow in the far south of the continent?” Helen said. “I can’t remember.”

The dragon bristled. They, apparently, didn’t like their own wars being brought up.

“I am not here to kill you,” Helen said.

“The last time a mage came here,” the blue dragon said, its voice rich and deep. “They also said that. And then they killed one of us while we slept.”

“I know,” Helen said.

“And yet you are here all the same?

Helen nodded.

The unicorns were extinct, as were the hydras, and the black phoenix. The last of the dragons had been internationally protected for hundreds of years in hopes they’d breed and replenish their numbers. A scientist offered to study the creatures in hopes of discovering why a dragonling hadn’t been born in centuries but instead, they killed one and tried to make a wand on the black market.

“What happened to that scientist?” the green dragon said. Helen had a feeling it already knew the answer.

“They created what they thought was a wand,” Helen said. “When they attempted a basic spell, the wand exploded. It turned a city block to ash.”

The red dragon’s eyes sparkled with murderous delight and the blue dragon nodded its approval. The green dragon just stared at her, their confusion slowly shifting to curiosity. Helen had been told she was insane to ask the dragons for help and that’s why she was here.

“Let’s kill her,” the red one said. “I don’t trust any of this.”

The green dragon ignored its companion. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“And your name.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Helen said.

“Why?”

“If I told you now, you might not fight me,” Helen said.

“You’re bold,” the green dragon said, humor flashing like lightning in its eyes. “I’ll give you that.”

Helen shrugged. “Just know I’m supposed to be dead. I’m tired and we’re wasting the day. Yes or no?”

The dragon didn’t respond for so long Helen thought it might not have heard her. But creatures this old had a different concept of time. A minute to think might be the fasted decision it had ever made in its life and patience was always a friend. So, she waited.

A breeze kicked up and the lake rippled as the trees swayed. A minute went by. Then another. Then a third. Helen stood still as stone, never breaking eye contact.

After five minutes of dead silence during which Helen and the dragons didn’t move, the green dragon finally sighed and said, “You wish to fight till submission, and if you win, you wish a favor?”

Helen nodded. “Correct.”

“How dangerous is this favor?”

“If anyone found out, you’d have an army up here.”

“Which army?”

“All of them.”

They didn’t like that answer but it was the honest one. She didn’t come up here to lie.

“And if I win?” the green dragon said.

Helen shrugged again. “I assume you’ll kill me. Then none of this will be my problem.”

The green dragon hung its head and looked down at the sand, sweeping some of the grains with its talons. When it looked up at Helen, she could feel it would say yes. Dragons were prideful creatures and curiosity didn’t just kill the cat.

“You are with child,” the dragon said.

“I am.”

The dragon nodded. “So be it. Ready yourself.”

Helen unslung her pack and set it on the ground. The other dragons nodded hesitantly and then hopped dozens of feet away in one bound. They moved as silent as a mouse scurrying across a marble floor.

“At your ready,” the dragon said.

Helen nodded, and let her magic run wild.

The landscape changed from greens and golds and blues to darkness and frost and snow. The sun disappeared behind black clouds and the warm breeze turned as cold and sharp as a surgeon’s knife and howled its rage. The lake froze with a crunch like stiff paper being wadded up and the beach turned to a sheet of solid ice. Long, dark shadows flickered in the frost covered trees and the other dragons disappeared. The green dragon scrambled on the ice and then dug its talons into the frozen ground to avoid sliding into the lake.

Helen smiled. “I’m ready.”

The dragon’s eyes widened to the point Helen could see its second eyelid and their irises turned to slits the length of her arm. Smoke poured from its nostrils and magic rolled off of it in waves as it pulled from the magic of its heartstrings. If it wasn’t so surprised, Helen thought it should have noticed that where its magic hummed against the earth there were little blotches of sand.

But, despite her show of power the dragon had no intention of backing down. The heat from the lizard’s body distorted the air and after a wicked flick of its tail, they lunged.

Helen didn’t move. She snapped her fingers and created thirty of herself, spacing them out in a massive circle around the dragon. The beast faltered in surprise and didn’t see the boulder coming from the side. The rock was the size of a carriage and smashed into the dragon’s hide, breaking on contact with a crunch of bone. The dragon let out a howl of pain but after a few teetering steps, they regained their balance. It shook its head as blood dribbled from its lips and hissed against the frozen ground.

“Witch,” the dragon spat.

“Been called worse.”

The dragon took a deep breath and Helen was expecting it to throw fire but instead it clenched its muscles and snaped its bones back into place.

Interesting.

The dragon spun quick as a ballet dancer and lashed out with its tail. The force could have demolished a building as easy as dynamite but Helen simply stuck out her hand. The tail smashed into her open palm and came to a sudden stop, the concussion blast throwing ice and snow high into the air.

“Close,” Helen said.

The snow cleared and the dragon’s eyes widened at seeing Helen without even a bruise. It pulled its tail back, clenched its muscles, and took in a massive gulp of air.

Here we go.

A wave of heat rippled from its maw, the back of its throat flashing like the orb of a small sun. The fire core was so bright Helen couldn’t look directly at it but slid her foot back for balance and squared her shoulders.

The dragon fire exploded towards, more combustible liquid than pure fire. Rumor said the only thing that could stand up to dragon fire was the sun itself but Helen held up her hand again and the rushing flames stopped a dozen feet away and spread out harmlessly around her. The dragon growled and spat more fire until Helen was completely surrounded by the most vibrant and living shades of golds and blues she’d ever seen. It truly was beautiful.

But she didn’t have time to enjoy the view. With another snap of her fingers, she dropped the temperature to a level not even the dragon could stomach. The beast’s fire shivered, fizzled, and then disappeared. The snow fell harder and the wind pushed violently against the dragon’s wings and it had to tuck them in close to keep its balance.

Helen crossed her hands and waited.

The dragon snarled and clawed at the ice. Its mind was soaked with fear that Helen could taste on the tip of her tongue and she knew she’d won. Once the fear was there, it was over. She waved her hand and the dragon shrunk to the size of a large dog. The dragon yelped and tried to fly but Helen disabled its wings and they flapped uselessly it its sides.

Helen’s magic hummed deep in her bones and the darkness in her mind rolled and twisted and screamed to be let out. A smile touched her lips and she fought to stay in control. This was why her father was afraid of her magic. Why they said anyone born with invade harbored a demon within their soul. Why Helen was able to kill a mage captain of Astar by turning him into a pile of flesh and bones.

“Do you yield,” Helen said, taking several steps towards the dragon.

The dragon gnashed its teeth and tried to burn her again but all that came out was a puff of smoke.

The snow had piled up several inches and Helen walked through the dry, fine powder towards the dragon. She cast no shadow as the claws and smoke and iron teeth whispered in the darkness of the woods. Her twisted little children were begging with her, but they had to sit this one out.

“I am not here to harm you.” The thing in her mind rolled its eyes in frustration.“I want a favor.”

The dragon tried its wings once more but they didn’t work. The snow swirled around them and Helen weaved it tighter and faster into a vortex of solid white. There was no escape, and she needed the dragon to know that.

The dragon considered her for a long moment, taking in the snow, the ice, the darkness, and the shadows in the trees. It was beaten and now it became a matter of whether it would stay to its word, or die for its pride.

The dragon looked up at her, fear and anger and suffering carved into its features but it nodded and finally said, “I yield.”

“Good,” Helen said.

Helen snapped her fingers and the world righted itself. The snow and ice and darkness disappeared in an instant. The dragon returned to full size, the shadows in the woods faded away, and the gentle breeze and the quiet lapping of water returned with the twittering of birds. Helen was by her pack and the dragon was right where it had first landed. Neither had moved.

She shivered away the rush of magic and felt another pain in her stomach. The baby growing in her womb became overtly excited when she used magic and usually kicked around for a few minutes after.

“Why did you yield?” the red dragon shrieked. They snapped their jaws and slammed their tale against the sand “You didn’t even fight.”

The blue dragon was looking from Helen to the green dragon and then back to her again.

The green dragon’s head spun around as it took in the summer day and the soft sand underneath its claws. It huffed out a small puff of fire, looked at the trees, and then craned its neck around to test its ribs. It wiggled the wing where the rock had struck and then pressed a hind leg against the scales.

“My side,” the green dragon said. “It’s…fine.” It looked up at Helen. “You are supposed to be dead.”

Helen nodded.

“What…what just happened?” the blue dragon said.

“Varice,” the dragon said, nodding to the red dragon and then turning to the blue. “Gen. This is Helen Allanson, child of Remus Allanson, and daughter of one of the six remaining royal houses in Astar.” Helen could have sworn it smiled. “And of the three mages in the world with mind magic. Which is why you wouldn’t give us your name to use the element of surprise.”

“Guilty,” Helen said.

The other dragons leaned forward to get a better look.

“She trapped you in your mind,” Varice said.

“I’m glad I didn’t hurt you,” Helen said. “I’m still learning how my stronger powers work. I can physically damage you in your mind, but I’m learning to only give the impression.”

“You were turned to ash,” Varice said. “We were told the story by one of the soldiers who monitor the pass. You went to Emora Sparr’s mansion the night the Royal Mages went to arrest him for treason against Astar and were never seen again.”

“He killed his whole family,” Gen added. “His wife. Small children. Three of your mage captains. We felt the magic from up here. It was…violent.”

“Alexandra is still alive,” Helen said, referring to Emora’s oldest daughter “And as you can see, I’m not dead.” She nodded to the green dragon. “What’s your name?”

“Whin,” the dragon said. Whin sat back on its haunches and nodded to Helen. “So, supposedly dead human of House Allanson, I yielded. What favor do you ask of me?”

“I need you to keep something for me,” Helen said. She reached into the pouch at her side and pulled out the two pieces of wood. The pieces were long and thing made of dark, rich wood coated with flecks of silver. When Helen touched the pieces, her body flickered with lightning and the rush of power made her gasp for air. The baby kicked again and she swore under her breath.

Varice and Gen hissed and slid back but Whin didn’t move, their eyes growing wide as something between fear and awe hummed in their bones.

“It was true,” Whin said.

Helen nodded and held out the wand fragments. “Emora made a wand.”

“How did this all come to be?” Whin said.

“I’ll tell you some,” Helen said. “As you know, my kind has tried for centuries to find an alternative way to make wands after we killed most of the Creatures of Old and pushed your kind to the brink. We’ve tried Enchantment wolves, the red bears of the south…anything with a drop of magic but we became truly desperate when the wands rotted. Astar has a fiscal budget of five percent of yearly taxes for wand research. Olyian has about the same. I’ve heard Scarlet does double. And yet all the brightest minds backed by the strongest countries failed and then one day Emora figured it out. He kept it quiet but he told the other royals. There was a disagreement.”

“Disagreement?” Varice said. “An entire royal house was obliterated along with three of your strongest soldiers.”

“A disagreement with the other families,” Whin said. “You mean your family.”

“My father,” Helen said. “Not my whole family.” She paused and thought over what to say next. It was a long story, and complicated and there was a lot she still didn’t understand. “Do you know of the Imej Kura?”

Whin nodded. “The ancient elven spell book used in the War of the First Wands. So that rumor was true, as well.”

“After that scientist failed to make a wand,” Helen said, “There was concern we’d lost the art of wand making and not even the dragons could give us our powers back. With Emora finding a way—finding a way without your heartstrings—there is a panic to be the first to find his research.”

Whin nodded. “Naturally.”

“If anyone finds his research,” Varice said. “And wands can be made at scale, your world will spiral into war. You will kill out of fear or kill for the power.”

“That’s why I am here,” Helen said. “Some said that the best thing that ever happened to humanity was the wands rotting. It scaled back our power. It made it so a single mage couldn’t level a city. If they return, well…you know what will happen.”

“Did Emora Sparr try and usurp the throne?” Whin said.

“No,” Helen said. She thought back to his broken body, skin peeled from his flesh, the once beautiful hall of the Sparr estate coated in what looked like ink. She’d found out later that’s what blood looked like when touched with a curse. “He didn’t want the throne. He wanted medicine and healing. A wand doesn’t have to be a weapon.”

The road to the Dark,” Varice said.

“Is paved with good deeds,” Helen finished. She took a deep breath. “I wasn’t supposed to be at the Sparr estate that night. I survived, which complicated things more than if I’d died. Emora did kill the Royal Mages, but not his family. The army killed his family. I want that part to be clear. Before he died, he asked several things of me and for reasons I do not wish to explain, I agreed.”

“One reason would be fair,” Varice said. “You are still a child even among humans. You are pregnant and you are ungodly powerful. Why are you bothering with the wishes of a dead man? Why are you throwing away your royal life?”

“Varice,” Whin warned.

“One is fair,” Helen said. “Guilt.”

“Guilt of wh—” Varice began.

“The favor you wish is for us to hide the pieces,” Whin interrupted, eyeing the other dragon. Varice sheepishly looked away. “Because nobody will think to look to the dragons for the thing that was used to hunt us to extinction.”

Helen nodded. “Yes.”

“I see,” Whin said. “We’ll do it.”

Varices lunged forward. “Whin. We can’t do this.”

“I yielded,” Whin said simply. “And our word still means something. We agree to keep the wand fragments. And you just pointed out that if the mages learn to make new wands without our heart strings, the human world will spiral into war. What’s the life of a dangerous animal worth if they have no use? If the humans don’t look at us with hope?”

Varice sighed and sat down heavily on the sand. “Okay.”

Whin turned back to Helen, it’s silver eyes like pale mercury. Stars appeared in the air around Whin and Helen tensed and clenched down on the wand fragments. The light became so bright she had to throw up hand to shield her eyes but the light faded almost instantly.

Helen quickly dropped her hand and froze when she saw the woman in front of her. She was completely naked with long hair of green and black. Her build was thin, but muscular, with sharp cheekbones framing pale grey eyes. Helen’s cheeks warmed with color. The woman rolled their eyes but its naked parts covered themselves in small dragon scales.

“You’re a woman?” Helen said. She’d never heard of a dragon’s ability to shape shift, but Helen wasn’t the only one surprised. Varice and Gen were gawking at Whin, their jaws wide open.

“Some may call me that,” Whin said. They walked towards Helen, their steps quick and sure. “This is a form we used in the past. I do not have time to explain why we don’t use it, or long ago why we did, but I wanted to show just in case.” Whin held out their human hand. “The wand.”

Helen let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she said, dropping the fragments into their palm.

Whin winced when the pieces touched their skin and the air crackled with lightning. “Massza,” the dragon swore in a foreign language. They shivered and rolled out their shoulders.

“Gets me every time, too,” Helen said.

The dragon nodded and then looked at the wand fragments more closely. They poked at the pieces with their finger and rolled them around. They stilled and then slowly looked up at Helen.

“Do you know what this is made from?”

Helen nodded. “That’s why I need you to hide it.”

“Your…” Whin began, pausing to find the words. “Your kind will follow the same path as the elves into oblivion, for power that you can’t take with you to the next life.”

“I know,” Helen said. “I might need them back one day. Tomorrow. A year. Ten years. Please, keep them safe. If anyone figures out how he did it, this will be just like the elves in Lyla Aethal.”

“At least you remember some history,” Whin said. “You have my word.”

Helen returned the nod and then walked over and grabbed her pack. She brushed off the sand, threw the straps around her shoulders, and then picked up the canteen and looped it around her neck.

“Thank you,” she said.

“What will you do now?” Whin said. They were still looking at the wand fragments, likely wondering how many it had taken. Helen had wondered the same thing.

“I have to find the other pieces,” Helen said. “Someone beat me to the other pieces. I’ll return after I find them.”

“And if you don’t return?” Whin said. “What if someone else comes looking for them?”

“If I don’t return,” Helen said. “Ask whoever arrives who the father of my child will be. If they answer correctly, give them the pieces. If they are wrong, burn them and then burn the pieces. Can you do that?”

Whin nodded. “Tell us.”

Helen told Whin, Varice, and Gen the truth and they nodded their understanding.

“Guilt,” Varice muttered.

“In its purest form,” Helen said.

And with that, Helen turned away from the dragons and began walking towards the trees. It was a long way to Olyian to find the prince bearing the mark of the lost order. And after that? She’d hunt the last pieces of the wand to the end of the earth if necessary. Anything to stop the other families. Anything to prevent the spiral of her country into darkness.