Defender of Magic Read Online Free PDF Page A

Sidhe’s leg as he reposed across the couch, but Lugh waved him away. “My condolences for Rehnquist’s passing. I take it that you are the new Champion? May I have the name by which you are commonly known? I owe you a debt, Dragon.”
    “You are indebted to me.” Jonathan’s murmur had the edge of a growl that made the Scribe’s already impossibly huge eyes bulge wider. “I’m Jonathan Wyndracer, Dragon Champion. Don’t mistake my interracial hospitality to imply that we have come to an accord, Sidhe. I have neither interest nor tolerance for the internal matters of fey politics, once and future king of the Seelie Court,” he quoted the Scribe’s description of Lugh. Jonathan poured himself a drink from the decanter and then gestured for Willem to serve himself and Lugh.
    The Scribe busied himself with the task, and the relationship between the two wasn’t lost upon Jonathan. Even before Lugh was wounded, the Scribe spoke of his pledge of loyalty to him. He’d heard of the Sidhe race’s legendary sense of entitlement. The subservience of less powerful fey races perpetuated the classism. If the fey did manage to survive the annihilation of the Mounds, he wondered if the ripple effects would disrupt this age-old sociological stratification. Jonathan continued, “I will have no part in your political ambitions.”
    “Ambition is the furthest concern from my heart, I assure you.” Lugh accepted the strong drink that the Scribe offered, and he imbibed a healthy swallow that surely would dull the pain considerably. Willem plopped himself cross-legged on the floor by the Sidhe, casting himself in the squire’s servant role. “My first and only concern is the survival of the fey. Not just the Sidhe. Not just the Seelie. All the fey.”
    “Even the goblins?” Jonathan cocked an eyebrow, amused that the famously eloquent Seelie should leave himself open on such a topic.
    “I don’t seek the eradication of their race, though I doubt anything could cause it even if I did. Controlling their rather robust and violent population is necessary to preserve life and freedom.” Lugh massaged his thigh as if absently, but Jonathan knew that silver burned the fey. Probably a scalding agony to have it imbedded in a joint. And to top it off, he knew that for the first few hours the poultice would be more painful than the wound it worked to cleanse. “Besides, they have no qualms in murdering me, so my sympathy for them is rather thin, to say the least.”
    Lugh continued, “Champion, I sympathize with your distaste of my lesser fey brethren, for truly, the wars between the Sidhe and the goblins never ceases, just waxes and wanes. Trust me that not all fey are so foul. Many fey peoples are kind, lovers of knowledge, craftsmen and artists, dedicated to family and nature. Truly good and worthy of protection.”
    “Brevity is a virtue. Make your point.”
    “The fey bound ourselves to the Mounds to sustain our magic and our lives. Recently, our home was crushed beneath the earth in a Collapse that massively dwindled our numbers. After the Collapse, the fey began to Fade. I have discovered a way to restore my people, to remake our realm. There are a number of artifacts that survive from the first realm of fey, and I have begun to gather them. With the magic imprinted upon them, and in the fashion of the ritual first used by the Sidhe All-Mother herself, a new realm can be created. This is my purpose and my only intent. I am alone in my endeavor, save a single Scribe, and there is no safer place to store the artifacts until we are ready to use them than in a dragon’s lair.
    “We are dying, Dragon Champion. I sought you out to save my kind, as there is no one else capable and trustworthy of the grave favor I must ask. Will you not aid us?”
    Jonathan chuckled, reclining farther back into his chair. He tossed back the remainder of his drink. The alcohol stoked his internal fire, heating the room until the shine of sweat