Razorscale tossed his head in irritation, wishing for proper fangs again so he could snarl over his shoulder at the human contraption following him. It was an enchanted wagon of some sort — sleek metal and unnecessarily fancy — and it had risen from the wall of the city when he’d crossed over in the dark. Mage-lanterns lit the front, and there appeared to be humans riding inside.
“Land now,” commanded a voice over the wind. It was artificially amplified, and unpleasant.
Razorscale growled. He considered setting the carpet to max speed, but had to admit that he didn’t know if the wheel-less cart could keep up. It looked like it might be fast.
So he spiraled back to the nearest flat rooftop, coming to rest above the surface without making a move to land fully. Streetlights illuminated the area well enough. He faced his pursuers with the best death glare his human face could manage, straight-backed, cross-legged, and with several charms hidden by folds in his sleeves.
“Spread your fingers where we can see them,” said the voice as the cart settled onto the rooftop before him. Two humans stared him down, one talking into what was clearly an amplification attachment. Behind them was an empty cage instead of another seat.
Razorscale didn’t move. “I have somewhere to be,” he snapped. “You are interfering.”
“And you are trespassing,” countered the human. Razorscale’s weak eyes made him out to be a sturdy, pale sort. The silent one was darker. “This is a restricted flight area. You obviously don’t have clearance, so I’ll say one more time: spread your fingers in the air.”
Razorscale instead clenched his hand around the charm for seeing through illusions. “Perhaps there is a reason,” he said, “That I don’t look like I have clearance.”
When his mage lines flared bright, visible on his neck and face, the human fumbled the attachment and dropped it. The anti-illusion charm didn’t show Razorscale anything helpful, but it certainly showed them something. The darker human was gesturing wildly at the pale one. When that didn’t get the desired result, she called out to Razorscale directly.
“We apologize, sir!” she said. “Please go about your business with no further delay.”
“Good,” Razorscale said. With a nod, he commanded the carpet to take off at speed, relaxing his hold on the charm as he did. The humans behind him would undoubtedly be confused and concerned, and they might start looking for him later when they found out he wasn’t some anticipated envoy or other special guest. But that was their problem. Razorscale was happy to let them assume. They clearly thought he was a human magician advanced enough to cover his own mage marks, which was a level of skill that didn’t exist. Idiots.
Inefficient human magicians, he thought. Leaking magic everywhere when they try to use it. Absolute children of a species.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He flew high enough that he could locate the river again, then began looking for a specific bend.
* * * * *
He’d thought the directions were lazy when he’d heard them, but there was indeed a very clear “bad one” when it came to riverbends with parks. Trash floating downstream gathered at the bend. It made the grassy area even more unsightly than it already was.
Razorscale landed on the pavement under a streetlight that was running low on power — ironic, considering the writing all over the storefront that advertised magical batteries for any use. The place looked as ramshackle as the location deserved. Razorscale rolled up his carpet, gathered a strategic fistful of charms, and shoved the door open.
It jingled merrily. The three humans in the room looked up at him, one from behind the counter and two from a display by the front window. None had mage marks, quality clothing, or enough confidence to ignore him. The two at the front scurried outside when Razorscale strode toward the counter with angry steps.
“Are you Dergaw Dea?” he asked.
The human was a mediocre specimen: thickly built with greasy hair. His smile was insincere while he asked, “What can I do for you, friend?”
Razorscale dropped the carpet roll and fixed him with a glare. “Who cast the spell you gave Tarse and Macken?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dergaw Dea claimed, reaching beneath the counter.
Razorscale triggered a defensive blast that sent the man careening backwards into a cabinet. It also launched items off shelves on all sides, and made something in the ceiling crack. The blue of Razorscale's mage lines reflected off every surface.
“I don’t like repeating myself,” he said.
The man had guts, Razorscale would give him that, but the portable lightning strike that flashed from his ring was shunted off to the sides by Razorscale’s invulnerability charm. The dragon in human form stood there, unaffected, while more of the shop crashed down around him.
Then he put an end to the scuffle with a speed charm. Dergaw Dea found himself bound in glowing blue bands, face-to-face with with someone just looking for an excuse to bite him.
“It was Huploe Tica!” he exclaimed, leaning away. “You want her, not me!”
Razorscale didn’t move. “Where.”
“She lives on the — do you know the coastline up north?”
“Wherrrrrre.”
The man gulped. “An island. Lots of sand and trees. Big mountain in the middle. Sand bars on every side, hard to get to without going aground.”
“What landmarks from the air?” Razorscale demanded.
Dergaw Dea told him, in detail, until Razorscale was sure that he’d be able to find it. When pressed, the human also gave up four other names, and an elaborate description of the “magic science” that the group would be doing on that island. They would be hidden away in a warded basement for at least a week.
That suited Razorscale just fine.
“Good,” he said, stepping back without releasing the bonds. “You may live. For now. Do not get involved in that kind of spellwork again.”
“Yes sir.”
Still keeping an eye on the imprisoned human, Razorscale located his carpet and headed for the exit, making little effort to step around the items on the floor. He paused to grab two things off an accessory display: a charm belt that could fit under his shirt and a wrist band for the extras. They were of terrible quality, but they would give him skin contact on all the charms while keeping his hands free.
With one more scowling glance at Dergaw Dea, Razorscale strode out the door. He released the bonds as soon as he was outside. Before the human could respond, he unrolled the carpet and disappeared skyward.
That had been gratifyingly easy for a businessman who had likely been threatened before. Razorscale was going to use all caution when investigating this island stronghold.