Defender of Magic Read Free Page B

reptilian slit, though at the moment they appeared rounded like a human’s and the steely grey of gunmetal. The black dress shirt and slacks fit his muscular form. Though taller than most humans at seven feet high, Jonathan imagined that he passed well enough for one. The locals accepted him without an undue amount of staring, though much of that was the result of his frequent visits to the towns in his territory, to condition them to become accustomed to him.
    To that end, he embarked upon his stroll through town, acknowledging those familiar to him with nods and the brief, meaningless greetings that humans favored in passing. As he approached the main street, along which the restaurants and shops were collected, he detected a distinctive scent.
    Fey.
    Picking out a fey from among the humans required no trick. He honestly had to wonder how humans failed to recognize the foreignness of the fey. This one in particular acted enough out of the ordinary that Jonathan had to chuckle. The fey was short, like a goblin, but the coloring and mannerisms were all wrong. Not even Glamour could have hidden a goblin’s skulking movements. From the looks of him, this fey wasn’t using any Glamour at all, just a cap and sunglasses to disguise his more distinctive features. In addition to his scent, the way the fey behaved sparked the dragon’s curiosity. As Jonathan approached, the unassuming fey patrolled around the truck a full three times, though he made a show of it being casual. Pretending to check the taillights. Then coming around to clean a side view mirror. Sitting for a couple seconds on the front bumper while he appeared to read the signs of the shops. Whistling to himself as he wandered around to the other side.
    Jonathan sidled, unnoticed, next to the vehicle without even attempting stealth. He leaned back against the side of the delivery truck, just around the rear bumper. Arms crossed and long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, he remained motionless, lying in wait.
    When the fey strolled around the corner he was busy looking off down the road, watchful for danger at a distance and completely oblivious to the threat right in front of him. The fey tripped over Jonathan’s ankles.
    The dragon snatched the little man by the upper arm, preventing him from stumbling or escaping. His voice dropped into the deep, gravelly timbre of the dragon, inhuman and dangerous. “You should be more careful, fey. Never know what might be lurking.”
    The fey gaped up at him, utterly frozen with fright.
    The snarl of his lips, as he smiled with predatory mirth, revealed his extremely long, extremely sharp fangs. Suddenly, Jonathan spun, switching positions with the fey. He knocked the little man back against the side of the truck with just enough force to drive the air from his lungs. The dragon loomed over him. “A long way from the Mounds, aren’t you?”
    The fey managed to both nod and shake his head in a haphazard way, as if torn between agreeing and disagreeing and not at all sure what the right answer might be. If indeed any answer might save his life.
    “Do you even know in whose territory you’re trespassing?”
    The fey stammered, “Dr-drag-dragon.”
    “Is that an observation, or an answer?” Jonathan leered hungrily. He curled his fingers around the fey’s lower jaw, his talons pressing into the skin, but not breaking it. “You will tell me who you are and why you are here, or I will eat you. If I don’t like what I hear, I will eat you. If you lie to me, I will know, and I will,” his grip tightened fractionally, “eat you.”
    The fey opened his mouth and managed only a terrified squeak. At the threatening rumble of Jonathan’s growl, the fey began to blather as swiftly as he could articulate words. “I am Willem Phillip Brodie Mac ind Óclaich, former apprentice of Master Scribe Tiberius Laven Davort of the Illustrious Archives in Tír na nÓg. More recently, I was the Master Scribe to the All-Mother