Chapter 16: Matrix of the Dragon

I never did learn to travel using floo powder — that was a one-time event, triggered by my desperate focus on escape and survival. Still, it made me wonder. Maybe floo powder contains phoenix feathers, though that seems unlikely given the scale at which it's sold. Or maybe it's some unknown ingredient tied to space itself. All of this is fascinating, but it's not my level yet. So, I decided to rest and combine pleasure with usefulness.

"I'm happy to present to you the World Dragon Reserve!" The guide's voice rang out, full of excitement, as he addressed our tourist group of thirty. We were in Romania, home to the largest dragon reserve in the world. It covers five and a half thousand square kilometers and breeds nearly every type of dragon that hasn't vanished in the storms of time. It truly deserves its reputation.

There are plenty of smaller reserves — in Sweden, England, the USSR, China. Dragons aren't just fangs, claws, tails, and fire that's second only to hellfire in power. They're also several tons of precious ingredients.

A dried dragon heart is used to make wand cores. Their organs go into potions. Their skin is used for high-status or protective clothing and equipment. Even their meat ends up as expensive dishes in restaurants.

"Unfortunately, we can't let you into the reserve itself, but you'll be able to see dragons in the enclosures. Mostly, these are females who've recently laid eggs — they're especially aggressive during incubation and while raising their young. These are also the strongest and most restless dragons. But don't worry, ladies and gentlemen, special barriers will keep us safe."

"Is it right to keep them in cages? Aren't they intelligent?" Apolline asked, standing next to Jacqueline. Unfortunately, Patrick's father had business and couldn't come with us, so Patrick stayed home. By the way, I finally learned his name — Alain Wolfhorn. Yes, what a great friend I am, only now learning Patrick's father's name after all this time. But Apolline won't tell — she refuses to say her own surname, the pest.

"No, no, beautiful girl and her no less beautiful mother," our guide — Riliero or Riviero, I can never remember — started flirting. I have a terrible memory for names. Actually, my memory is excellent, I just didn't care about his name. He was wasting his time anyway — Jacqueline is an experienced woman who knows her worth. Only incredible charisma and Apolline's approval could win her over. "Dragons are non-intelligent magical creatures. Yes, sometimes they act cunningly, but it's all instinct."

And here, Libiero, you're lying through your teeth. Young dragons aren't intelligent, just like human babies aren't. But you don't let them live to adulthood — you cut them down early. I'm not stupid enough to pity a beast that would gladly crunch on me, but let's not twist the truth. Especially since you'd never catch an intelligent dragon. You might kill one — experience is a harsh teacher — but not without losses.

"How do dragons fly? They're so heavy. And how do they breathe fire?" asked a dark-haired boy in a yellow shirt and beige shorts, maybe nine years old, standing next to his father.

"Good question! Really good. The thing is, dragons' abilities are half magical. Under their bellies, there's a special organ whose function even mages can't explain — we only know it's not magical, and it lightens the dragon's body enough for its strength and wingspan to allow flight. In their mouths, behind the cheeks, are two glands.

 They release a liquid that ignites at high temperature when mixed and exposed to air. Dragon skin and bones are incredibly strong. But all these abilities are further enhanced by magic. Fortunately, since they lack intelligence, they can't use it consciously."

"Why fortunately?" the same boy asked.

"Because to stun a single dragon, you need about ten experienced dragonologists who know exactly where and how to strike. That's just to stun," — "not kill" was written all over his face. But he was understating things. This only works with young dragons, up to twenty years old, who haven't fully grown — their skin hasn't yet toughened. And as they age, they gain not only intelligence but magical power that can surpass an archmage's reserves.

An old monster, usually over two or three hundred years old, can only be killed by cunning or overwhelming force. No wonder killing a dragon was once considered a feat and an honor, and why they don't let them mature. I stopped listening, walking with Ariel between the cages, activating astral vision. I needed to pick out the oldest dragon, preferably one whose skin was just starting to toughen. The species didn't matter much. What's the use if a Welsh Green can snap a Horntail's horns just because it's a few years older?

I stopped near an enclosure with the largest safety perimeter — twenty meters. The dragon inside shone brighter than all the others, and I didn't go unnoticed.

"What, do you like it?" the guide asked, naturally. The dragonologists who walked with us — to keep people from sticking their hands into a dragon's mouth, literally — didn't talk much. They looked stern, gloomy, and were covered in scars, mostly from burns. Burns from dragon fire are almost untreatable with wand magic.

"This is an Opal-Eye Antipodean, one of the rarest dragons not only in this reserve but in the entire world. It's also considered the most beautiful, thanks to its pearl-like scales and opal eyes, for which it's named."

"Yes, a real beauty," I replied. "Why can you approach other enclosures, but not this one?"

"You see, boy, because of its rarity, we can't… well, we can't release it into the reserve," — ah, you can't use it for ingredients until it fertilizes a female. But it won't do that, because I sense a spark of intelligence in it. "But at the same time, this dragon is very strong and could break through the protective barriers."

"I'll just stand here, then, and take a look." Pediero was trying to hit on Ariel, but she wasn't interested — she was watching me with both eyes, making sure I didn't run off to the dragon. Not that I was planning to — I just needed to take a matrix, and I already had a couple of spells stored in memory. But the Antipodean easily deflected my charms. It did so consciously, not just by the toughness of its skin.

 I looked into its eyes and used mind magic to send a message, asking it not to resist, promising I meant no harm. With my veela aura, I projected the same calm, joyful feeling I used to pacify animals. Judging by the response, it didn't work — at least, not as I'd hoped. We communicated not with words, but with images. If you put it into words, it went something like this:

"Why should I help you, child of enslavers?" it asked.

"Because I don't want to do anything bad to you," I replied.

"I don't care what you want. Why should I allow this?"

"Then what do you want in return?"

"Freedom."

"Why don't you leave yourself? You're intelligent, which means strong."

"Was wounded by kin. Humans caught me," came the brief answer.

"I can't free you, but I can heal you if you promise not to interfere with me, not to harm people, and not to release other dragons," I said. Young dragons can't lie, especially in mental communication — that's a skill of the old monsters. If it says it won't, then it won't.

"No! You kill us, eat us!"

"You do the same. But we don't let you go extinct," I answered, and began to walk away.

"Wait, child, I agree!"

In the end, I managed to take the matrix, though I had to exhaust my reserves with four minor healings. Fortunately, the dragon was far enough away and it was sunny, so the small glow from the charms went unnoticed. I didn't care whether it escaped or not — mages stick their heads in dragons' mouths themselves, and many lose their lives every year. All for the money they pay dragonologists.

 If they can't keep one in a cage, well, let them not bite off more than they can chew. It's one thing to slaughter non-intelligent creatures — I can accept that. But intelligent ones… it's disgusting. Better to just kill them if you think they're dangerous.

Of course, I won't be able to transform into a dragon for several more years, even for a couple of seconds. But it's better to have a matrix and not need it, than to need it and not have it. Especially one this useful and powerful. My first matrix was… a rooster. As a symbol of dawn, it can repel or weaken demons, as well as basilisks. And it seemed like a useless creature.

"Well, how did you like it?" Ariel asked me and Apolline when we returned home by portkey and finally stopped feeling nauseous. Actually, only my friend was nauseous — I was already used to the magical world's sophisticated attractions, like apparition.

"Of course! What could be better than huge fire-breathing monsters?!" I exclaimed.

"I felt sorry for them, being kept in cages and not released to their kin," Apolline complained.

"They're beasts, wild ones at that — you shouldn't think they'd pity us in the same situation," Jacqueline said, trying to comfort her daughter.

"I agree. Humans are much more dangerous and cruel," I added, and got a smack on the head. Why does no one like the truth?

***

The next day, in the "Magical News" — which we get by owl post — there was a front-page headline about the escape of a rare and dangerous dragon, with a hefty reward for any information about its whereabouts. A large wizard photo of the beautiful lizard was attached.

Judging by how surprised the journalists were at the lack of casualties among mages, the dragon kept its promise. But journalists turned out to be bastards in the magical world too, judging by their hidden dissatisfaction between the lines at the lack of victims. Journalism — journalism never changes.

***

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