Familiar Magic (Druid Enforcer Academy Book 1) Read online

  Its whiskers twitched and then it froze, like it smelled danger. It took all the self-control I had not to twist round and check the space behind me. The jaguar hissed, then spun around and bolted for the treeline.

  “Wait!” I called, but it was gone, scattering the other familiars with it. I rose to my feet shakily and turned to Zara.

  “What the hell was that?” she asked, before I could get in the exact same question. The familiars surrounding her had bolted, too.

  “No idea. Do you think we should follow them?”

  She shook her head. I was glad. Some part of me felt sure I wouldn’t be welcome in the treeline and beyond.

  “Should we wait here, then?” I asked, looking around the clearing. A chill ran through me, like a shadow had fallen over the meadow, but it wasn’t one I could see. “Or head back?”

  Before she could answer, a fox with black-tipped ears trotted into the clearing. Jalen.

  “I guess that answers that question.” Zara laughed, but even from here I could hear the quiver behind it. She was as unsettled about what had happened as I was. Did familiars normally act that way? And what had scared the jaguar away? One thing was for sure: I was relieved we weren’t going to be sticking around and finding out.

  We followed Jalen back through the trees and out onto the track, where Kyle and Paisley were already retracing the route to the gateway. Paisley, I couldn’t help but notice, kept a distance between her and the earth. Not, I knew, because she despised what he was, but for fear of him discovering what she was.

  I shook my head. Fine bunch of outcasts we were. Three quarters of the females in our intake, a hybrid, an earth element, and a druid raised by mundanes. Zara was the most normal of the lot of us, and I didn’t get the sense she got told that a whole lot.

  She glanced at me and caught my grin. “What?”

  “I was just wondering – do you think Elias knew what he was letting us in for when he accepted our applications?”

  “It’s not going to be a quiet year, that’s for sure.”

  I shuddered. “Who wants quiet?”

  Ahead, Kyle had stopped, and he waited until we caught him up.

  “What are you girls giggling about?”

  “The obvious sexual tension between you and Paisley,” I said, deadpan. He blushed – actually blushed – and I elbowed him in the ribs. “Well, I had been teasing, but…”

  “Shut up.”

  “Or what, you’ll earth me to death?”

  “How did you two get on, anyway?” he said.

  “They took one sniff of Lyssa’s deodorant and legged it.”

  Kyle’s eyes darted from Zara to me and back again, like he was waiting for the punchline. I shrugged.

  “It’s true. I thought I had one, then it ran off.”

  “Hissing,” Zara added.

  “Was it a snake?” Kyle ventured. I shook my head, and his uneasy look deepened.

  “What?”

  “I… I’m not sure. I’ve never heard of them running off before. Ignoring people, sure, but not running from them.”

  “Gee, it sure is nice that something is going the way it’s supposed to,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Hey, what’s that?”

  I hadn’t noticed the shadow drifting through the treeline beside Paisley before. Kyle followed the direction of my gaze.

  “Oh, yeah. Pretty cool, right? Paisley bonded with a wolf.”

  I wasn’t sure ‘cool’ was the word Paisley would have chosen. She’d come a long way in coming to terms with what happened to her two years ago, but not so much that she would want a wolf shadowing her every step. She might not be my biggest fan right now, but I knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t like any sort of hint of what she was following her through the academy. Then again, I’d seen several faces I recognised from Dragondale in the lecture room. Odds were, by tonight the whole academy would know what she was.

  No wonder she was keeping her distance from everyone. I guess it felt kind of pointless making friends knowing they’d shun her when word got out. Better she could at least kid herself that it was her choice to be a loner. I shook my head.

  And I’d thought I had problems.

  Chapter Ten

  No matter how out of my depth I found myself at Krakenvale Academy – or anywhere else in the druidic world – there was always one place I could go and feel completely at home, where I could forget all my problems and live solely in the moment, where nothing else mattered.

  “Hi, Stormclaw,” I said.

  The feathered head pushed itself over the stall door, and the massive creature let out a squeal of excitement so loud that my hands clamped over my ears. His yellow beak clacked, and he barged his weight against the door, stretching as far as he could towards me.

  I lowered my hands and chuckled.

  “Hey, boy. I’ve missed you, too. How’ve you been?”

  I stretched my fingertips out to scratch between his eyes, and the lids slid half-closed. He leaned into my touch, crooning softly, and I heard his tail swishing. I guess he’d missed me, too.

  I grabbed the headcollar that was hanging next to his stall and slipped inside. His coat – black feathers outlined in gold at the front end, black hair at the rear – normally shone, but today it was crusted with sweat and dirt, and coated in a layer of grime. I suspected I knew why. Before I’d met him, Stormclaw had a reputation for being difficult. After, too, in fairness. All gryffs could be surly, as you’d expect from an animal that was sired by the half-eagle, half-lion monstrosity Alden kept at Dragondale. Luckily, Stormclaw’s other half came from a more docile animal, which meant he only tried to maim people, as opposed to making a snack out of them. But not me. Me, he’d always had a soft spot for, which was more than a little flattering. There was only one guy I needed in my life.

  “But,” I chastised him, “if you didn’t keep trying to bite people, maybe one of them would have brushed your coat and cleaned your stall out yesterday.”

  A toppled metal bucket sat in one corner, telling me he’d been fed, at least. I moved carefully round him to get to it, taking care to stay out of the way of his rear hooves. He’d never tried to kick me, but plenty of other gryffs had. And he was much bigger than a horse – one kicked would put me in the hospital wing. And yes, they had healers here, and yes, the healers could patch up all kinds of damage in just a few minutes, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when it happened. I found that out the hard way when it came to breaking bones. And then I repeated my mistake half a dozen times, just to be sure.

  Stormclaw moved aside to let me pass. Apparently, he was feeling unusually co-operative today. I stretched up and gave him another scratch as I passed, then grabbed the bucket and took it outside and out of the way. There was a tie-up ring outside his stall and it seemed sturdy enough, though I knew from experience if a gryff really wanted to get away, it’d just shred the rope with its beak – or shred the person trying to stop it.

  There were two dozen stalls here, all outside, making it a little smaller than the indoor barn at Dragondale. There, most of the gryffs had lived outside most of the time, anyway. I wasn’t sure what the setup was here. I’d have to find someone and ask. But first, I needed to take care of my boy.

  I slipped the headcollar on him, careful not to catch his feathered ears under the straps, and led him out of the stall into the sunshine. Even with the light playing across his coat, there was precious little shine to it.

  “Seriously,” I muttered, looking him up and down. “What have you done to yourself this time?”

  “Maybe it’s in the letter.”

  I jumped, whacking my head on the stable door. Clutching it with one hand, I straightened again, this time more carefully, and peered round.

  “Hi,” the guy said. “Sorry about your, uh, head.”

  I gave it a rueful rub – I’d had plenty worse hanging around gryffs – and shot a slightly embarrassed smile at the newcomer, because it hardly looked great when you survived hang
ing round with beasts straight out of mythology, but almost brain yourself on an inanimate object. Not when you’re trying to convince people you’re skilled enough to ride on the resident Itealta team.

  “It’s Ryder, right?” I said, and then his words registered. A little V formed in my forehead. “Wait, what letter?”

  He gestured to an envelope half-tucked behind the stable’s blank name plate. I plucked it out and turned it over.

  “That came with him,” Ryder said. “We’re going to warm the gryffs up, then head down to the bottom field for some practice. Why don’t you come and join us and show us what you can do? It’s right down that way.”

  He gestured to a field somewhere off in the distance, and I nodded, not taking my attention from the envelope.

  “Yeah, I’ll do that, thanks.”

  He headed off, and I flipped the envelope over. I recognised the writing at once. It was Alden’s. And who else but Dragondale’s Supernatural Zoology professor, and person in charge of their extensive herd of gryffs, would be writing to me about Stormclaw?

  “Let’s find out what trouble you caused, shall we?” I said, absently scratching Stormclaw’s shoulder as I read.

  Dear Lyssa,

  I trust this note finds you well, and not regretting any decisions you’ve made.

  I chuckled. Alden hadn’t been the biggest fan of my decision to come here, not after she’d gone to all the trouble of setting me up as captain for the Fire team back at Dragondale, and convincing a scout from the Essex Hornets to come and watch me fly. But, nice as it would have been to play professionally – not to mention catch up with a certain Itealta player who I most definitely hadn’t been dreaming about recently – that wasn’t me. Itealta was fun, but I never wanted it to become anything more than that. With a professional team came pressure to perform consistently and perform well, and that just took all the fun out of it. I’d seen it happen to other people, and I didn’t want that for me. Itealta was my way of getting away from stress. Deep down, I was sure Alden knew that. I shook my head with a smile and carried on reading.

  Unfortunately, Stormclaw’s been having a few problems while you’ve been gone. He got himself in a little fight with another gryff, well, a few fights really, and you know his reputation and the trouble he’s been in before. He was getting a little too much attention from Professor Talendale, so I thought it might be best if he came to stay with you for a while. Instructor Marston said they could make room for him in their stables, and Dominic Burnett from the hornets says there’s still a space for you on the team if you change your mind.

  I’ve cleaned up his wounds,

  I stopped reading and gaped at Stormclaw. Wounds? What wounds? My eyes flicked back to the page, and I scanned it quickly for more information.

  and they seem to be healing nicely. I’m afraid he didn’t come off so well in his fight against Greybeak and there’s still a bite on his hindquarters that you’ll need to keep clean, but it won’t stop you riding and getting in some practice if you want to talk to Dominic. I’ve put his number on the back of this letter. You know, just in case.

  Take care of Stormclaw. You can reach me at the academy if you need me.

  I lowered the letter. Greybeak. Of course. He’d always had an attitude problem, even by gryff standards. I ran my eye over Stormclaw’s hindquarters, and once I brushed some of the grime aside, I could make out the partially healed gash. So much for keeping it clean.

  “Just as well Alden’s not here now, boy. She’d have both our hides.”

  I started working on his feathers, tugging the dead ones loose and cleaning up the rest, then took a brush to his hide, getting off the dirt and grease. He snorted when I got close to his wound, and the muscle twitched. He rolled his eye round to watch me with obvious disapproval.

  “Don’t bother looking at me like that. If you didn’t go picking fights, you wouldn’t have a bloody great hole there.”

  Still, I moved carefully round the injury, switching out my brush for a clean cloth that I ran under a tap and using it to wipe away the dried blood and dirt. The cut itself looked like it was healing well, dirt notwithstanding, and I decided it probably wouldn’t need a poultice.

  “As long as you don’t keep rolling on it,” I warned him. He quirked his head at me and tugged at a stray strand of hair on my hair. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Enough talk. Wait here. And don’t bite anyone who comes past. I mean it.”

  I eyeballed him to make sure he knew I really did mean it, and then realised that he probably didn’t have a clue what I was saying. I chuckled to myself.

  “I’ll be right back, boy.”

  That, I knew he understood. He lowered his head and cocked a rear hoof into a resting position, and I headed off in search of the tack room. I figured the small wooden hut at the end of the row of stables was the obvious choice, and fair enough, I found all of Stormclaw’s tack stowed inside, in considerably better condition that the gryff himself. I tossed the bridle and reins over my shoulder, and then hauled his saddle down from the rack, grunting with effort and staggering under the weight of it. It was a massive thing, made of heavy, well-worked leather. At the front was a huge saddle horn, far bigger than anything you’d see on a horse saddle – and with good reason. Its purpose was to wrap your leg around while you leaned right down to the ground to grab a metal ball from the floor – at a flat-out gallop. Now that I thought about it, it was pretty crazy. Maybe I’d fallen on my head one too many times.

  “Easy there.”

  I jerked my head up just in time to avoid bouncing off someone. He chuckled and gestured to the saddle.

  “I’d offer you a hand with that, but Stormclaw never did like me much.”

  “Josh! I didn’t realise you were studying here. And don’t take it personally, Stormclaw doesn’t like anyone. Can you grab my helmet and gloves? I’m out of hands.”

  Josh ducked back into the tack room, then followed behind me with my riding kit while I tottered under my precarious load – though he stopped well short of Stormclaw. Probably a smart plan.

  I switched the gryff’s headcollar for his bridle – much like a horse’s bridle, but with no bit. Gryffs were always ridden bitless, on account of their curved beaks being the wrong shape, and also because shoving your hand in a gryff’s mouth was a good way to lose that hand.

  I wasn’t tall enough to put Stormclaw’s saddle on from the ground, so I led him over to the tacking up box where he stood patiently while I scrambled up, hefting the saddle with me, and positioned it on his back. It only took a moment to tighten the girth strap – I didn’t much fancy it slipping off mid-ride – then Josh passed me my helmet and gloves and I hopped on. I didn’t usually ride in a helmet, but when people started throwing metal balls around, you wanted some protection around your head. Same reason I wore gloves. I’d broken my share of fingers with badly timed catches.

  My feet settled easily in the stirrups hanging down on either side on him, just in front of his wings so that I wouldn’t hamper his movements. I nodded my thanks to Josh, then picked up my reins.

  “Come on, then, Stormclaw. Let’s see if I’ve forgotten how to ride.”

  He circled round and strode along the smooth concrete surface between the stables, his long stride jolting me around as I settled into the saddle. I relaxed my hips, letting them absorb the motion, then Stormclaw moved into a bouncy trot.

  “Let’s fly,” I told him, touching my foot just below his wing. He flared his wings and flapped them twice, taking us up into the air. I laughed with delight, then leaned forward and urged him on.

  The wind rushed around us as we raced through the sky, gathering speed as Stormclaw stretched out and threw himself into the ride. I held the reins lightly, steering him only with my eyes – we were attuned enough that he felt the subtlest changes in my position, and I his. Which was how I knew when he’d spotted the other gryffs. His neck lifted, his hind legs kicked out in excitement – and he screeched his ear-splitting squeal of exciteme
nt. I chuckled. For a beast who’d recently been beat up by one of his own kind, he sure seemed keen to see the other animals. Or maybe it was the sight of the riders, and the Itealta ball, that had him so excited. That made two of us. And I could feel every eye below turned to us.

  “Alright, boy. What do you say we give them a show?”

  He squealed again, which was all the agreement I needed. I dropped my reins and let my hands hang loose by my sides.

  Below, the riders let the ball drop to the floor and reined in their gryffs to watch us wheel against the skyline.

  I could feel my muscles loosening. It had been six weeks since I’d left Dragondale. Six weeks since I’d last sat on a gryff and tested my balance. But riding was the one thing I’d always been good at since the very first time I’d been on a gryff, nearly three years ago. I had at least an eighty percent chance of not killing myself.

  We streaked across the sky, faster than most gryffs could move – Dragondale had one of the best herds in the country, and Stormclaw had always been their fastest – then I leaned forward into the turn.

  “Down,” I called to him.

  He banked harder and took us into a dive, building speed rather than losing it. I fixed my eyes on the basketball sized orb abandoned in the middle of the field, with its four metal handles jutting in different directions.

  “Ready?” The ground rushed up to us, faster, and faster, until we were only seconds from crashing into it. “Now!”

  I threw myself sideways from the saddle, hooking my knee round the horn, and stretched my hand out for the ball. Stormclaw hit the ground front legs first, bending them to absorb some of the impact and get me close to my target. I wrapped my fingers around a handle and a split second later, his back hooves thudded to the earth. His hindquarters sunk and he launched himself skywards again in one smooth motion that threw me back into the saddle.