The Young Sorceress

  THE YOUNG SORCERESS

  By Wesley Allison

  Smashwords Edition

  The Young Sorceress

  Copyright © 2012 by Wesley Allison

  Revision 11-28-15

  All Rights Reserved. This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If sold, shared, or given away it is a violation of the copyright of this work. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual people, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Wesley Allison

  Cover Image Copyright © 2012 Sandra Kemppainen | Dreamstime.com

  ISBN: 9781476291123

  * * * * *

  For Vicki, Becky, & John

  Senta and the Steel Dragon

  Book 4

  The Young Sorceress

  By Wesley Allison

  Chapter One: Spring

  Birmisia was full of life in the spring. Wildflowers seemed to suddenly appear just about everywhere. The days were warm and wet, with frequent fog and almost daily rain showers. The giant maples grew new leaves, adding their lustrous green to the ever-present deep emerald of the tremendous pines. Ferns opened up their fronds in the dappled light beneath the mighty trees and in those places with no light, large and varied mushrooms showed their rounded heads. Plants were not the only life forms present though. The land was alive with both birds and beasts. One could easily spot cormorants, snipes, rails, and wrens hopping through the trees along with the strange four-winged microraptors. A few godwits, grebes, puffins, and pelicans occasionally strayed inland from the shore. On the ground caudipteryx, buitreraptors, bambiraptors, meilong, and mahakala ran among the ferns looking for small lizards and snakes and large insects, which were everywhere. They didn’t bother the opossums or the mice, which stayed snug in their dens until nightfall. In the open areas huge iguanodons grazed, sometimes accompanied by triceratops and ankylosaurs. Most of the large predators like the tyrannosaurs and utahraptors had become scarce due to the presence of man, though the velociraptors and deinonychus were still thick, as happy to scavenge human trash as to hunt the other Birmisian creatures.

  A flock of seven velociraptors made their way down the road. They went in fits and starts, pausing to snatch a lizard or small rodent from among the ferns and squawking at each other. They were, like all of their species, covered with hairy feathers, yellow near their small arms, and green everywhere else. Most of this particular group had a black band around the base of their necks. They were only about two and a half feet tall, but their long tails stretched straight out almost five feet. The most famous features of the velociraptors were their feet, each of which had a three-inch claw curving upward, and their long many-toothed snouts, more like something one would expect to see on a crocodile than on a bird. The leader of the flock raised its head as it spotted a human walking toward them from down the lane.

  Velociraptors seldom hunted human beings unless one was wandering alone and injured. It had little to do with size. Some of the animals that fell to the feathered runners were much larger than man-size. Though velociraptors were not known for their intelligence, they possessed a cunning that matched most aerial birds of prey and this allowed them to determine which potential targets were more likely to become their supper than the other way around. Simply put, most humans didn’t act like prey. A few did. They started, and jumped with fear. But most didn’t. They didn’t quite act like predators either. They blundered around the forest without regard to what they might run into. To the velociraptors, they were simply too confusing to be bothered with unless there was nothing else to eat. And in spring, here in Birmisia, there was plenty to eat.

  Regardless of their intent on hunting this particular human, the flock fanned out, following their instinctual behavior for both hunting and defense. Three took positions on either side of the road, moving in and among the shelter of the trees, while the leader moved into direct confrontation. This way they formed a triangular trap around the animal, in this case a human, directing it forward and keeping its attention away from potential attackers on the side. What happened next cemented in the tiny minds of the velociraptors as much as anything could, that this human was a poor choice for prey.

  This human being was a teenaged female, and though biologists still debate whether velociraptors can distinguish between the sexes of mammals, others of her kind could immediately recognize her gender by the long flowing deep violet velvet dress, made more expansive by an extensive bustle over her rear end, and the long flowing blond hair held back by the deep violet velvet ribbon fastened on the side. Tens of thousands of other human beings could in fact identify this particular human female, because this particular human female was the young sorceress Senta Bly. She was hurrying home from the Hertling house where she had enjoyed afternoon tea. When she noticed the brightly feathered creature standing directly in her path, she flipped her hand toward it and muttered a single word under her breath. A bright blue ball of energy flew from her fingers to the velociraptor, which exploded into a puff of yellow, green, and black feathers. Its comrades disappeared into the forest.

  Senta had scarcely passed the spot in which the velociraptor had stood when she was brought to a stop by a honking coming from behind. She turned around to see a shiny steam carriage chugging down the road toward her. As she waited, the vehicle slowed and came to a stop. A tall man in the uniform of a police sergeant looked down at her. His thick blond hair, flashing moss green eyes, and confidant air made him handsome in a way that the recently acquired bend in his nose couldn’t detract from.

  “You shouldn’t walk on this side of town alone,” said Police Sergeant Saba Colbshallow. “Velociraptors have been thick lately.”

  Senta nodded.

  “Nice car. I didn’t know you were so rich,” she said.

  “It’s police property, as you well know little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl,” replied Senta. “I’ll be fifteen in six days.”

  “Don’t I know it? I’ve got it marked on my calendar. Climb in. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “It’s only about a hundred yards.”

  “Sure, but how often do you get to ride in a steam carriage?”

  “I don’t think they’re safe. They used to blow up all the time back in Brech.”

  “You’ve never ridden in a steam carriage have you?” Saba grinned. “The Drache Girl is too frightened to ride in a car?”

  Senta stuck out her lip. “I’m not frightened.”

  Saba reached across the passenger seat and offered her his hand. She stared at it for just a moment, then accepted it, and climbed up onto the empty seat, reaching behind to ensure she didn’t flatten her bustle. A quick press on the forward accelerator sent the car shooting down the gravel road.

  “You’ve passed my house,” said Senta.

  “I thought we could take a turn around the block.”

  “What exactly is it you want? I’m not used to being held hostage.”

  “Hardly that. I was concerned so I thought I’d check up on you. Mr. Bratihn said that you had a meeting this morning that you didn’t arrive for.”

  “Oh, I forgot all about that.”

  “That’s not the first such story I’ve heard in the past few months.”

  Senta shook her head and frowned.

  “I can only be so many places at one time. Honestly, Fina has me running all over the place lately. You’d think she could do some of her own business. After all, I’m just a kid.”

  Saba laughed as he turned the corner.

  “Have you noticed how quickly you go from ‘I’m not a little kid’ to ‘I’m just a little kid’? How long do you think you get to have it both ways?”

  “I figure one year
and six days.”

  Saba grinned, but then looking at the road, slammed his feet down on the clutch and the decelerator while pulling up on the brake. A pair of female polacanthus lazily moved across road. The animals paid no more attention to the steam carriage than they usually did to humans or their machines, which is to say none. About four feet high at the shoulder, these thirteen-foot long dinosaurs were heavily built with pointy spines poking out at forty-five degree angles right and left from the top of their neck to their mid-back for protection. They were just the type of thing that would have completely wrecked a new car if hit.

  “Thanks for the ride,” said Senta, climbing down.

  “I was going to bring you back around to the tower.”

  “That’s okay. Give my best to your wife.”

  Saba Colbshallow was no longer a newlywed, having been married for well over a year. Still, the mention of his better half brought an involuntary smile to his face that in turn made Senta crinkle her nose in disgust.

  “Talking of which,” said Saba. “Loana would like to get together for tea.”

  “Doesn’t she see you every day?”

  “I meant with you.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  The former Loana Hewison was accounted by all as one of the most beautiful women in Port Dechantagne, and as far as Senta could tell, seemed a pleasant enough person. On the other hand she had helped herself to Saba and to Senta’s mind Saba was, in some vague and indefinable way, her property and should not have been allowed to marry without her approval. It wasn’t as if she had romantic designs on him, as she had already selected the boy she planned to someday marry. It’s just that she had a special connection to Saba through their long association and other women had no business sniffing around her men anyway.

  “Toodle-pip,” she said, leaving Saba to wait for the polacanthus to move out of the way before continuing.

  The excursion in the steam carriage had added about two hundred yards to the journey but Senta was home in just a few minutes. Though neighbors usually referred to the house shared by Senta and her mistress, the sorceress Zurfina, as a “tower” it was in actuality built on the same floor plan as most houses in the area. In this case it simply had four additional floors stacked upon it. The very top story was the elder sorceress’s private study, in which none were allowed. The second level from the top was her bedroom and boudoir. The middle level was a bedroom and playroom for Senta. The ground floor was a kitchen, dining area, parlor, and storage rooms. The first floor up was the living room and the personal chamber for the home’s third resident.

  Stepping inside and closing the door after her, Senta took off her purple velvet jacket and hung it up on the coat rack by the door. She quickly turned around, puzzled by the sound of sobbing, to find a massive dragon almost completely filling the lower level. Though it looked dull grey in the limited light, she knew that when in the sunlight its scales shone like polished steel.

  “What’s the matter, baby?” said Senta stepping quickly toward the beast’s massive spiked head.

  “I can’t get upstairs.” Though spoken in whimpering tones, the voice was that of a cultured grown man.

  “Why not? Are you hurt?”

  “No, I can’t fit!” The huge mouth opened and the dragon cried, sending tiny sparks flying out.

  “Oh Bessemer,” said Senta, hugging the whiskered face. “It’s going to be all right. We knew this day was coming. I think you’ve grown just since you got home… Kafira! Can you even get out the front door?”

  Bessemer, the steel dragon, who had been scarcely larger than a housecat when they had arrived in Birmisia six years earlier, opened his eyes wide. Though most human beings had a difficult time reading the expressions of the dragon, not the least of reasons being that both the whites and pupils of his eyes were the same steel color as his scales, Senta knew just what was running through his mind. He had gotten home three days earlier and squeezed inside to curl up for a nice long sleep. Now he faced the possibility that he couldn’t get back out without busting through a wall.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s see if I can fit you out.”

  She opened the door and Bessemer stepped carefully over the furniture and stuck his head out through the portal. His head was followed by his long serpentine neck, but his body wouldn’t quite go through.

  “Stretch your wings out,” Senta advised.

  Unfolding two scaly wings, Bessemer stretched them straight back, knocking the smoke pipe off of the wood-burning stove as he did so, but he passed through the doorway. Finally his long whip-like tail with an arrow shaped barb at the end made it through.

  “Uuthanum,” said Senta, sending a spell to repair the stovepipe and clean up the soot that had fallen from it.

  “Now what do I do, Pet?” wailed the steel dragon.

  “You’ll just have to stay outside for now.”

  “I can’t stay outside. I’m not a yard dragon. I’m a house dragon!”

  Senta couldn’t help laughing. “You stay out for weeks at a time.”

  “But not when I’m asleep. I don’t want bugs crawling on me when I sleep.”

  “You already know the ward to protect you from insects. I doubt anything could squeeze between your scales anyway.”

  “I can’t sleep outside!”

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms and scrunched up her forehead in thought. “You run off for a while. Hunt. Explore. Have fun. When you get back I’ll have it all worked out.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. If I can’t take care of my dragon, they’ll stop calling me the Drache Girl, won’t they?”

  Bessemer curled down his neck and pressed his face against Senta. His head was almost as large as she was.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said. “We haven’t spent any time together for months.”

  “I know, baby. We will. I’m going to make some special time for us.”

  “Just you and me?”

  “Yes, just you and me.”

  “Nobody else right?”

  “Okay, but I thought you liked to hang out with the gang.”

  “Don’t get me wrong; I like them. But I have been noticing that Graham and Hero in particular smell more like food lately. I’d hate to accidently eat one of them.”

  “Oh you’re just talking that way because you’re hungry. Eat a nice big dinosaur and you’ll be right as rain. And don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. You won’t have to sleep outside with the bugs.”

  “Thanks,” said Bessemer with a final sniff. “Kisses.”

  The dragon placed his head beside the girl’s and made a kissing noise. A second later he shot into the air like an artillery shell. Senta watched him reach an altitude of several hundred feet before he stretched out his great wings and turned to the south, disappearing from sight behind the towering redwoods.

  Back in the house, Senta flipped her hand and the components of a sandwich began assembling themselves. Cheese and ham flew from the magical icebox, or froredor, and a knife began slicing them while another knife sliced thick pieces of bread from a loaf bought the day before at Finkler’s Bakery. Once the sandwich was done and on a plate, that plate flew across the room and then followed Senta as she made her way up the stairs to her room. At the top of the second flight, she took the sandwich and let the plate float across her bedroom to land atop the wardrobe, where several old dirty dishes awaited it.

  “What are you looking at?” asked Senta, her mouth full.

  A cloth-bodied doll with a porcelain face lay back on the pillows at the top of her bed. It looked remarkably like her, though it was not dressed as she was, instead wearing a flowery print dress with a straw hat that matched exactly what Senta had worn the previous day. The doll shrugged, and getting up to its feet, wobbled its way to the foot of the bed. The young sorceress went to the window and looked out at the birds while she ate her sandwich. The branches of a large maple reached almost right up to the side of the house and
a family of microraptors had built a sloppy nest just three or four feet from the window. Soon it would have two eggs in it, but at the moment it was empty. Before she even realized it, Senta had finished her meal and turned back around. The doll, seeing her hands free, stretched its arms up in the air to signal it wished to be picked up. The girl obliged and tucked it into the crook of her arm.

  “I send you on an important errand and here you are, playing with dolls.”

  The sultry voice came from Zurfina, who was standing naked at the landing. Senta couldn’t help noticing that her mistress possessed what she thought must be the perfect female form. Curvy and bosomy, she might have been a model for a famous statue had it not been for the constellation of five large star tattoos, two below her clavicles, one around her navel, and one above each hip bone. And one…”

  “Fina! There’s another star on your knee!”

  “So there is,” said Zurfina looking down.

  “Is there even a tattooist in Port Dechantagne?”

  “Don’t be stupid, and don’t change the subject. I count on you to take care of things here in Birmisia for me. You’re thirteen years old now and you should be able to handle that.”

  “I’m almost fifteen.”

  “Really? What year is this?”

  “It’s the year of our Lord nineteen hundred five.”

  “Really? What month?”

  “It’s Treuary 25th—just six days till a very important date.”

  “Treuary… 1905…” Zurfina looked up at the ceiling and tapped her chin with her fingers.

  “Did you hear me? Six days?”

  “I have to go away for a while, Pet,” the elder sorceress announced. “I’ll try to be back before the end of spring.”