Dragon's Tongue (The Demon Bound) Read Online Free

here, but I achieved that level of skill at least five years ago. You see, I manifested mage sign when I was six, so I got an early start on my skills. Makes Wendon so jealous. He’s ten years older than I am, and still hasn’t mastered half the higher spells.”
    “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume…”
    “Do you always apologize to everyone?” Fenelon asked.
    “My father always said it was a good idea,” Alaric said.
    “But surely, you don’t believe you should continuously apologize to others for not knowing something you couldn’t possibly know to begin with,” Fenelon insisted.
    “Sorry, I can’t help it,” Alaric blurted.
    Fenelon laughed, and the sound was infectious enough to make Alaric smile. He took a deep breath and glanced aside.
    “Well,” Fenelon said and rose, “Have you eaten yet?”
    “The bell for supper hasn’t rung yet, has it?” Alaric said. “Wendon said something about the three bells at sunset being the signal for the evening meal.”
    “Surely you don’t plan to eat the stuff they call food in this hall,” Fenelon said, making a comical face as though he’d bitten into sour fruit. “I know a great little tavern on the lower edge that serves a fine but reasonable board, and has the best wine and women in Caer Keltora.”
    Alaric frowned. “But I thought mages in training were not allowed to leave the keep without a master…”
    “That rule applies to apprentices under eighteen,” Fenelon said. “And besides, you will be with a master mage, remember?”
    “But it’s raining,” Alaric protested with a glance towards the windows. “I’ve already gotten wet once today, and I’m apt to catch a chill if I get damp again…”
    “Who said anything about stepping out in the rain,” Fenelon said. “ Geata foisgail …” He gestured as he continued to speak in the mage tongue, and Alaric felt the magic was being cloaked as it danced lightly across his skin. The world split open, revealing an archway where torches burned.
    A gate spell? Alaric had only heard of them. Poor Marda had never been fortunate enough to learn one which was why Alaric had been forced to travel overland to reach Caer Keltora.
    “Well? Are you coming?” Fenelon asked.
    “Wouldn’t you rather be with your own friends?” Alaric asked.
    “I fear my friends are not exactly in great abundance within these walls,” Fenelon said, and only a faint hint of wistfulness softened his eyes. “And except for the indomitable Wendon, my guess would be that you have none here at the moment. And trust me, Wendon is as dull a friend as you’ll ever find, apart from the fact he’s totally tone deaf and doesn’t know a single good song.”
    Alaric’s mind was telling him he’d be wise to heed Wendon’s warning and avoid this man, master mage or not. But Alaric’s soul told him that there were times when he was too scornful of even a little adventure, and unless he wanted to end up with a nickname like “warthog,” there was likely no harm in accompanying Fenelon. Besides, he could use a cup of ale.
    “Well,” Alaric said, “As long as we’re not going to get into trouble.” He rose and started to lay the psaltery aside and reached for his cloak still hanging over the chair to dry.
    “Why I wouldn’t dream of taking you there, Alaric,” Fenelon said with a wicked gleam of mischief. “Oh, and bring the psaltery. With your voice and my connections, I’m willing to bet we could earn ourselves a free meal.”
    Alaric sighed as he slipped the psaltery into a sack and slung it over his shoulder.
    Horns, he thought. I hope I’m not going to regret this decision.
    With a sigh, he followed Fenelon through the magical gate.
    ~
    Vagner remembered an old demon once telling him human magic and demon magic were of two different origins. While humans drew their power from the magical essence that dwelled in everything in their world, demons drew their magic from within. To a human, demon magic felt like a