Red scales layered Drestra’s body from snout, to claw, to spear-tipped tail. She towered over Alex and most of the nearby trees as she stretched her long neck, taking her to full height.

Flame burned between her fangs.

Drestra, of Crymlyn Swamp.

Drestra, the Sage of Thameland.

Drestra the dragon.

As Alex took in the full majesty of her draconic form, he had to shake his head at his own denseness. He should have realised the problem sooner: her true form was far different from any humanoid’s, so of course she would have trouble with delicate body language in her human form.

Her long tail would dictate how she balanced herself, which would be completely different from how she would in mortal form. Four reptilian legs meant much different musculature and bone structure, along with the two additional appendages on her back: a pair of wings. There was also her long, flexible neck to consider, which could bend in ways a human could never hope to match.

At the same time, most gestures that would have meaning to him, would seem alien to a dragon: it would be like trying to converse with a being who had four tongues and vocalised like a fish: they would be capable of sounds humans could perhaps mimic, but never make sense of.

Alex knew from magical botany that bees had entire languages—messages “spoken from worker to worker”—hidden within different scents and the way they danced.

To a human, they would be meaningless.

To other bees? They would mean everything.

He’d made nonverbal casting impossible for her, by trying to teach her the language of the wrong body.

“I'm sorry,” he apologised. “I've been wasting your time. It makes a lot more sense for you to master nonverbal casting in your natural form first, from there, we could build on that success and see if you could master it in your human form. By starting in your human form, I just made things needlessly complicated: I wasn’t thinking.”

But he wasn’t the only one blaming themselves for being oblivious.

“I should've seen the problem earlier, myself,” Drestra’s voice crackled. “I spend so much time in my humanoid form, that I've learned to ignore the fact that it doesn't feel quite right most of the time. It didn't even occur to me that there would be a problem.”

“So we're both dumbasses,” Alex said wryly. “And we’re supposed to stop a mad god’s runaway creation? Great. Just great. Seems, in that case, Thameland’s as good as dead.”

Drestra made a deep rumbling sound and expelled smoke from between her jaws. It took a long chilling moment for Alex to realise she was laughing.

“Well, I guess the important thing is that we did figure it out,” the General of Thameland said. “Okay, let's see if we can finally work things out for you.”

“Should we focus on nonverbal casting?” Drestra asked. “Or maybe we should focus on mana manipulation. It's still difficult for me, but—”

“Oh, by Traveller!” Alex suddenly shouted.

“What? What?” Drestra cried.

The General of Thameland pinched the bridge of his nose. “You're a dragon! You can fly, your body’s filled with power, you’ve got powerful—at least partially magical—venom in your fangs and you can breathe fire. You don't just have a mana pool that you can use to cast spells, you have magic throughout your entire body! Your mana probably flows very differently from mine or Cedric's, and most mana regeneration techniques were developed by wizards, who, uh, didn’t have draconic bodies filled with magical power. I’m thinking regeneration techniques might have to be modified for you, at least somewhat.”

“Good point,” Drestra agreed. “Mana does flow through my real body differently.”

“But hold on a minute…you were able to manipulate your mana to overpower a dungeon core,” Alex pointed out. “Can't you apply the same skills to mana regeneration?”

“I mostly used brute force,” she told him. “I have a lot of mana that flows really easily, it wasn't hard to just overwhelm that dungeon core without a lot of finesse.”

“Right…” Alex said. “Alright, well, in any case, I think nonverbal casting is going to be more useful for you than mana regeneration, but I still think you need a mana regeneration technique—even a basic one.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Drestra spread her wings. “So, how will you teach me, then?”

The young wizard cracked his knuckles. “With trial and error. We'll start by teaching you a dance created by the centaurs: they've got four legs, and you've got four legs. Dances often convey meaning, even just pure emotion: I can start by teaching you the dance, then—I can use the Mark to help me figure out your successes and failures in conveying meaning with your body—then we’ll be able to use those successes and failures to hone in on how to translate them into casting a spell without saying a word.”

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“…sounds like a lot. How long do you think it will take?”

Alex grinned. “How long can dragons go without sleep?”

“Days. Maybe weeks.”

“Perfect.”

###

The lesson started with the General of Thameland verbally walking Drestra through the steps of the centaurs’ dance. Then he demonstrated it by getting down on all fours, and mimicking the movements as best he could. After Drestra finally stopped laughing hysterically at her instructor—a dangerous, flame spewing affair that nearly ended with her roasting him alive—he went up to her and guided her scale-covered legs, pointing or moving them as needed into the various positions of the dance.

As he did so, he used the Mark of the General to observe, drawing from images of himself successfully teaching her a move, or unsuccessfully fine-tuning his instructions as she tried to hone her technique.

Minutes turned to hours.

Day turned to night, with the two of them only pausing for a quick meal and to teleport to the others to let them know they’d be practising for a longer time than they’d originally planned.

Forceballs illuminated the meadow as the moon slipped across the sky with Alex guiding the Sage of Thameland through her dance. At first, her steps were clumsy and halting. But—as the hours passed—he changed his tact, breaking the dance steps down into smaller parts, making them more manageable. Drestra relaxed considerably and Alex could see the benefit of not overwhelming his student in a single practise session, so he focused on teaching her a few different steps and positions at a time. By sunrise, she was comfortable with them. Not a master, but not graceless or bored either. She was keen to keep practising and the General was keen for his two hours of Restful Slumber, so he went to sleep, leaving her to practise, and when he awoke, her steps were smoother, but she’d adopted some odd movements that he had to quickly correct.

Once he’d smoothed those out, and was satisfied, he looked at moving on.

Through those simple dance steps, she was learning to convey meaning with her massive four-legged body, and it was time to expand her training. He focused the Mark of the General on the task of bringing Drestra’s head, tail and neck into her dance movements, creating a new dance. That took another day for her to master, but as the moon rose to its zenith, the dragon was thundering across the clearing, tail, legs, neck and wings moving in harmony. She was learning well…and Alex had been learning as well.

As they brought her other limbs into the dance, he watched how she used them. He was learning the body language of a dragon, tying her movement to her emotions at that moment, to meanings within the dance, and to what best suited her sleek draconic form.

The young archwizard studied every swish of her tail, how her long neck curved, and how her wings flexed. He slowly learned the dragon’s body language, taking notes as he did. Wizard’s Hands sketched the Sage’s dancing, leaping, wings spreading, capturing her different draconic positions and linking them to her emotions. She would laugh, curse, growl, become embarrassed as she moved through the dance, celebrating or cursing herself if she flubbed a step.

He was building her vocabulary, and learning how it applied.

Interpreting how each movement of her scaled body could be translated into the syllable of a spell. Learning how a dragon’s body movements could make magic sing.

On the third evening, he looked up from his notebook. “Drestra, there’s something I want to try with you.” He eyed the golden staff of the Sage glowing on her serpentine neck.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I think I’ve figured out the beginnings of how to turn your neck and wing movements into the ‘syllables’ of an incantation,” he said. “I think so. Anyway, first, I need you to do exactly what I’m going to tell you to do and I'm going to fly up to your neck and guide it in different positions: I want you to memorise those positions, then practise them while I guide your wings. Alright?”

“Yes…” She hissed. “We're nearly there, aren’t we? I'm so excited!”

“Well, let’s see if we can reward that excitement. What’s a spell that you're really comfortable with casting?”

“Probably Purify Water.”

Alex paused. “Really? I thought it would be a fire spell.”

“Purify was the first spell I learned: that spell can mean the difference between life and death when you live in a swamp. You’re surrounded by water all the time, it’s everywhere, but a lot of it, you wouldn’t dare drink without treating it.”

“Fair enough,” Alex paused. “One second, then. Actually…give me five minutes.”

The archwizard teleported from the forest in Thameland to the first floor of the Generasi library, startling a group of first years when he materialised among the stacks.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologised, searching the shelves and taking a spell-guide for Purify Water. He teleported to the front desk—checked the book out—then teleported back to the forest clearing where Drestra waited.

In mere heartbeats Alex learned the spell array, found a puddle, and cast the spell.

The muddy water cleared.

Drestra snorted puffs of smoke from both nostrils and indignantly hissed, “You learned that so fast. How is that even fair?”

Alex shrugged. “Not long ago, it would've taken me weeks to learn that spell. I think I’ve paid my dues…well, not my library dues. I don’t think I have any library dues. I mean—”

“Alex!”

“Yes, right.” He flew to her, first guiding her neck, then her wings. “If I'm not mistaken, then you should be ready to achieve an incantation with body language. Now, I'm no expert on dragon body language. But it should work. Probably.”

“Very comforting, Alex,” Drestra said, practising the movements he’d directed her neck and wings through. “This feels…right, natural.”

“Could be wishful thinking,” the archwizard grinned. “We won't know for sure until you actually do it.”

“Then, I guess we shouldn't waste anymore time,” Drestra took a deep breath and began, carefully repeating the movements.

Nothing happened.

She sighed disappointedly, releasing a small puff of flame. “Nothing!”

Yet, Alex was all smiles, concentrating on the Mark of the General. “Oh, I wouldn't call it nothing. The Mark’s showing me that you made a few small mistakes, but we're on the right track. All you need is a little bit more practise. Here, I’ll guide you again.”

The General of Thameland guided the Sage through the movements. He adjusted her left wing. Then her right. Then the position of her long neck.

She tried again, concentrating on a puddle of murky water.

Still nothing.

He guided her once more, identifying her mistakes, encouraging her to move slowly. Slowly and precisely.

She tried again.

There came a sudden rush of mana.

The water cleared.

“You did it!” Alex shouted.

“I did it!” Drestra’s thunderous voice echoed through the trees. “Finally! I used body language to cast a spell! I can't believe it! Thank you, Alex, thank—”

A blinding light flared on the Sage’s draconic neck.