The Consumption of Magic (Tales From Verania 3)

They were remarkably similar in their coloring. Their underbellies and sides were white and feather-free, soft and smooth. They had crowns of feathers. The bigger dragon’s crown was a deep blue, the feathers long and thin. The smaller dragon’s crown was mostly white, the tips looking as if they had been dipped in blue ink. Their wingspan was large, and instead of membranes like Kevin and Zero, they were completely covered in feathers. But these feathers looked stiff and unyielding, almost like they were hardened. A row of sky-colored feathers ran down each of their backs, ending at the enormous plumage on their tails.

They were amazingly beautiful creatures.

Who were also trying to kill us.

Maybe.

“What did he do?” the cliff dragon demanded as it hovered near its (her) mate. “Why are you rubbing your eye like that?”

“He kicked me!” the wall dragon snarled. “With his foot.”

“Oh my,” the cliff dragon said. “Are you blind now?”

“No, I’m not blind.”

“Oh. Then why are you making such a big deal out of this? His foot is tiny.”

“Hey! My feet are normal size! In fact, they might even be bigger than normal. Everyone says so!”

“Maybe not try and instigate,” Randall muttered as he knelt beside me. “You’ll only make things worse.”

“I have big feet,” I told him, just in case he was wondering.

“It doesn’t matter if it was little or not,” the wall dragon said. “It still went into my eye. Do you know what that feels like?”

“Yes, yes,” the cliff dragon said. “It hurts. Who knew that my big, wonderful huntress could be brought down by the foot of a wizard. Certainly a story for the ages.”

“You’re not funny,” the wall dragon said, growling just a little as she continued to rub her eye. “And it was just a lucky shot.”

“Excuse you, lucky shot,” I snapped as Randall helped me to my feet. “You wanna put your face down here again and see what happens? You’ve still got another eye I can take care of for you.”

“My word,” the cliff dragon said, staring down at me. “You certainly are a violent little creature, aren’t you?”

“Damn right! I’m hard-core! Come at me, lady-bro!”

“Six hundred years of life for this,” Randall sighed.

“Well,” the cliff dragon said to her mate. “As soon as you’ve sufficiently recovered from what I am assuming is a life-changing injury, perhaps we can continue on with the plan?”

“Life-changing,” the wall dragon snapped. “Nice. Please, continue to mock me when I could have possibly been blinded. It’s not my fault he’s a wily little bastard.”

“I’m wily,” I whispered to Randall. “That means hard-core.”

“That’s not even remotely close to what it means,” Randall said. “Now if you don’t mind, maybe we can stop chatting and get out of here?”

“Oh, you can’t leave!” the cliff dragon said. “We have a plan.”

“I’m changing the plan,” the wall dragon said. “I feel like I should be able to take his foot as recompense for his trespasses against me.”

“That certainly seems fair,” the cliff dragon said. She looked down at me. “Be a dear, would you? Let her have your foot. It’d make things easier.”

“No, thank you,” I said. “In case you couldn’t tell, I’m kind of attached to it.” Then I snorted and elbowed Randall. “Get it? I’m attached to—”

A gust of wind blew around our feet. Off to my right, I heard the sound of something flapping, like clothing or the pack or—

I looked over to my belongings.

A square wooden object lay propped in the snow.