Mal picked up the masks that had fallen from the walls and straightened the artwork. The wyrm was restless, which wasn’t unexpected, given the storms that were just days away. This was the light sleep before he woke, the slow stirring of a waking beast.
He had a problem in front of him.
This wasn’t unusual. His entire life, both his law career and his pursuit of magic, had involved solving one problem after another, in calculated order.
Distilled to the bones, he had two choices: battle the wyrm beneath the island, or above it.
He had prepared—for decades—to fight it in his own element, deep in the earth, knowing that the resort, the compound, every living thing on the surface might be a casualty of their fight, but confident in his ability to win easily in this manner.
That was before he had realized that his mate was an irrevocable part of that island, and that she was, if not a certain, at least a very probable casualty of a pitched underground battle.
He only had to think of her, the flash of her hair, the silky touch of her skin, the stubborn set of her smile, to know that it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.
He had already all but eliminated the possibility of removing Scarlet’s tree to safe location. It would require a larger portal than he had ever created and he was doubtful of the safety of transplanting a tree of that age and size even if he could manage it. Could she even leave the rest of her forest behind? He made a note to do more research and to consult with Scarlet on the topic, but he didn’t consider it a likely avenue. Not in the few days that they had available.
Everything pointed to fighting the wyrm above the island.
Mal was a capable flyer and a more than competent warrior in air, just as he was in earth.
But with the wyrm in the air, came the wyrm’s powers of air and water. He would be fighting in a powerful storm, at a difficult disadvantage. And he would have to win swiftly, decisively, before the storm damaged the island—and Scarlet’s tree—effectively undermining his attempt to keep her safe in the first place.
He could construct a magical shield. That would protect her from flying debris and falling trees, but it wouldn’t do anything to stabilize the earth beneath her. And it would be a challenge to maintain a shield larger than any he’d ever made around her while in the midst of a fight.
We have to protect her, his dragon fretted, like a dog on a bone.
There is a way, Mal insisted. We are neglecting one thing: Scarlet herself.
She had a sizzling power of her own. There was a way to use that, there had to be.
If he could teach her to stabilize her own piece of land, perhaps she would be able to survive the upheaval that his underground battle would cause. She was a creature of earth like he was; perhaps he could show her how to strengthen the stone beneath her.
Her magic felt raw, elemental. It wasn’t anything like his ordered arsenal of spells. It wasn’t shifter magic, and he didn’t know if his techniques would be the slightest bit effective with her kind of power.
He rolled his shoulders back and sighed. He could almost hear his father’s voice in his ear. What’s the first thing you do when you have a problem to solve?
Mal had resented his destiny, as a boy who wanted nothing more than to be a boy. But his life had never had time for games or play.
From the time he could walk, he was learning how to control magic; his earliest runes were tattooed to his forearm when he was still barely speaking. He clearly remembered his father’s arms around him. It’s good that it hurts, he’d said, while Mal tried desperately not to cry. Magic always has a price. Remember that.
From the time he could shift, Mal was learning to fight, flung into hopeless battles with older, stronger dragons and shifters. He had lost repeatedly, failing over and over... until suddenly he didn’t.
You don’t have to be stronger than your enemy if you are smarter and faster, his father pointed out. And there is one edge you should always have.
Magic? eleven-year-old Mal had guessed.
Even that can be taken, his father explained patiently. Knowledge, knowledge is your greatest advantage. Know your enemy, know their weaknesses, and better yet, know how to prevent
having to battle them altogether. Not all fights are claws and spells.
It had taken Mal years to understand that, years alone, spent honing magic, fighting, and later learning law.
The first step was always research. Know your enemy... and know your allies. Mal looked at his phone and frowned at the weak WiFi signal. He stood, gameplan firmly in mind, and traced a doorway in the air ahead of him. The air sizzled, and his library opened up before him. Two more destinations, and several armfuls of books, and he settled in to learn as much about Scarlet and her curious power as possible.
A fierce knock at the door startled him. “Come!” he called.
Graham didn’t look like he’d come for a social call, a scowl across his face as angry as his knock. He opened the door, then paused in the doorway, hands balling into fists at his side.
Mal was amused. “I assure you, force won’t be necessary. Come in, Grant Lyons, I have questions for you.”