Clint paced in front of the door to the High Council’s courtroom. He had never been so nervous in his life. He was a dragon, after all. He didn’t usually have to deal with nerves. He spent most of his time confident that he could handle whatever the world threw at him. But this time, the world might have thrown him more than he could handle.
He glanced at his watch. In two minutes, it would be nine o’clock. The High Council heard concerns from citizens each and every Friday at nine in the morning. It was their way of making sure that anyone could have their voice heard when they had a concern about the way things in Torch Lake were run.
Clint had never attended one of these meetings. Usually, when he wanted to talk to the High Council, he made an appointment with them and spoke with them in their conference room. But today, he wanted his voice to be heard loud and clear by all the citizens of Torch Lake. He hoped that pressure from the public would convince the High Council to listen to him and give him the funding he needed to learn about ancient magic. He hoped the High Council would pay attention and realize the seriousness of the issue. Surely, one of the older, wiser wizards on the Council would know of a way to train a wizard in ancient magic.
The doors began to open with a loud creak. Two military guards pushed the ornate, heavy wood panels back as they called for people to stand aside. Clint watched the faces of the other citizens who were waiting outside the room. Most of them looked like they were at least twice as nervous as him. One woman was chewing on her fingernails so hard that Clint worried she might accidentally bite off one of her fingers. A man standing a few feet away from her was wringing his hands. At least half a dozen people were pacing.
“You all may enter,” one of the guards proclaimed. “Please take a seat quietly and wait for the Council to enter.”
Clint followed the small crowd inside and found a seat on the back row. The room had two sets of long benches separated by a center aisle. In the front of the room, a long, raised table held a dozen chairs, where the council members would be sitting soon. Right below the table stood a podium with a microphone, where soon all of the nervous citizens would have a chance to make their shaky voices heard.
A few of the people who had walked in had large notepads and tape recorders. Clint smiled when he saw them. They were members of the press, and they were exactly what he needed. He hoped they would latch onto his story and print it far and wide for the whole city, and maybe even other shifter-wizards cities, to read. The more people who realized that action must be taken to stop the dragon disappearances, the better.
“All rise for the honorable High Council of Torch Lake!” one of the guards shouted in a loud voice. Clint stood along with everyone in the room as the High Council entered, decked out in dress robes and dress uniforms. No matter how many times he saw the Council dressed up like this, the sight never stopped filling Clint’s heart with awe. For a moment, he forgot to be frustrated with the Councilors, and just stood there taking in the sight of their splendor. The wizards on the Council wore the midnight blue dress robes typical of Torch Lake. The robes had the town’s seal embroidered into the left chest in golden thread. The wizards also wore tall midnight blue wizard hats which shimmered with a smattering of golden thread. The shifter members of the council wore midnight blue military dress uniforms with the golden Torch Lake emblem on their left chests as well. The council was evenly split between shifters and wizards, with six of each. Of the shifters, three were dragons, two were wolves, and one was a bear. The shifters were all older and not as strong in body as they had been when they were younger, but even at their advanced ages they still stood tall and looked fearsome. Clint had a feeling that what they lacked in youthful strength they more than made up for with the wisdom they had gained through the years.
“Thank you, everyone,” Councilor Blaise Morgan said in a loud voice. He was the Head Councilor of the group and always took care of all the formalities during meetings like this. “You may all be seated, and we will hear our first citizen presenter, Wilson Gray.”
Clint watched as Councilor Morgan scanned the list of names in front of him. Somewhere in the middle of that list was Clint’s name, printed neatly in his bold scrawl. Clint knew the exact moment that Councilor Morgan saw the name. The Councilor’s eyes widened in surprise and he looked up, searching the crowd until he found Clint sitting in the back. Clint held Councilor Morgan’s gaze, but the man’s expression wasn’t easy to read. With a slight nod, Councilor Morgan looked away and sat down in his chair to listen to Wilson Gray’s complaint.
Clint half-listened as people discussed a variety of issues they felt were important in Torch Lake. Most of the conversation today revolved around the new regulations that allowed companies to make deliveries using broomstick flying. There were some heated arguments against the new regulation, but Clint doubted it would be changed. The High Council had long resisted changing the law, and they would not have done so unless they were sure about the decision.
One woman complained that there were not enough dragons protecting Torch Lake, and that there was not enough transparency with the general public about why no new dragons had been recruited, or what methods were being used for recruitment.
“Stick around, lady,” Clint whispered under his breath as the lady grew more and more agitated during her presentation to the High Council. “You’re gonna love hearing what I have to say.”
A few more complaints were heard about zoning regulations and preventing pollution in Torch Lake, and then, Clint’s name was called. Clint saw all of the High Councilors react with surprise when Councilor Morgan called his name, and he was pretty sure he saw a few of them stiffen in their seats. So be it. They were uncomfortable because they knew they hadn’t paid enough attention to him. They had chewed him out for not working hard enough, without really listening to what he had to say. They were going to listen now.
Clint knew this was a risky move. Tempting the wrath of the High Council always was. But he had moved here because he believed the High Council would listen to its citizens when it really counted, and he was hoping that now they would prove that belief right. Clint took a deep breath as he walked up to the podium, then began speaking.
“Good Morning, your Honors.”
They all replied with courteous good mornings. Behind Clint, he could hear whispers from the crowd in the benches. They were murmuring about the fact that he was a dragon, no doubt. Good. Let them murmur. The more worked up the crowd got, the more the press would take interest. And the more pressure the High Council would be under to actually do something.
“Your Honors, I’m here today because I believe our city is facing a serious situation, and that something needs to be done about it immediately. As many have noticed, despite strong recruiting efforts on the part of both the Dragon Recovery Bureau and the Dragon Utilization Department, the number of dragons in Torch Lake has not increased. At the same time, the general population of wizards and shifters has exploded. If our town is to continue to be safe, we need more dragons around to protect us.”
More murmurs came from the crowd. Councilor Morgan’s face was set in a tight line, but he did not say anything except, “Go on.”
“My team has dealt with a strange phenomenon where the dragons we track down disappear, along with all of their belongings, with only a red ‘X’ left behind.”
Clint heard gasps behind him, and a few whispers of “It’s dark magic.” He knew he had to choose his next words carefully. He wanted to make sure everyone in the crowd, especially the press, understood that this was not dark magic, but rather a type of magic that most had never heard of.
“The disappearances fit perfectly with an ancient spell known as the Evanesco spell,” Clint said, standing as tall as he could and trying to sound as authoritative as possible. “This spell comes from an ancient branch of magic that is not dark magic, but rather very difficult magic that most wizards cannot perform without extensive training and practice. This ancient branch of magic was believed to have been extinguished completely when the Eagle Thicket Clan’s city was burned during the Great Dark War. The only known place in the world where this type of ancient magic was still practiced was within the Eagle Thicket Clan.”
“Yes, Clint,” Councilor Morgan said. “Which is why it’s impossible that the Evanesco spell is responsible for the disappearances. We’ve been over this already.”
“Your Honors, there is no other explanation that fits other than the Evanesco spell. Somehow, some wizard from Eagle Thicket Clan must have escaped the fire and joined the Dark Warriors. Or perhaps the Dark Wizards saved some information on the ancient spells before burning Eagle Thicket to the ground. We must act immediately, or we run the risk of all the dragons disappearing before we can get to them. We must find the best wizards in town and begin to train them on these ancient spells.”
“Clint, we don’t have any way of training a wizard! Don’t you understand that? All the spells, and all knowledge of them, was lost in the War.”
“That knowledge is out there somewhere. Someone has it, or they wouldn’t be able to perform this spell. We can’t just roll over and do nothing. We have to search for it, and find a way to train a wizard to do a counter spell. Otherwise all our efforts to get more dragons to Torch Lake will be for nothing. Eventually, we will have too few dragons and too many people, and be vulnerable to attack by the Dark Warriors. We cannot let that happen.”
Clint heard fevered whispering from the crowd, but he did not turn around to look back. He kept his gaze fixed on Councilor Morgan. Clint wanted the entire High Council to know that he would not back down until they took action—action other than yelling at him and telling him that this whole mess was his fault. It wasn’t sloppy work on his part. It was ancient magic, and they needed to start dealing with the threat.
“Thank you for bringing up your concerns, Clint,” Councilor Morgan said in a clipped tone. “The High Council has listened carefully and will take the matter under advisement. You may be seated.”
Clint nodded, then turned to take his seat again. What he saw gave him hope. The faces in the crowd looked fear-stricken, and the members of the press were furiously scribbling on their notepads. The High Council would have to make an announcement on this, and soon. They were now being tried in the court of public opinion.
Clint allowed himself a small smile. His work here was done.