Author's notes: Thanks to Nom de Plume, sexytexy, and Danielle for reviewing ch. 1! I hereby dedicate ch. 2 to you and my beautiful betas!
Also, forgot to put the disclaimer in ch. 1, oops. Um, Draco and Ginny belong to JKR, the rest are mine. If you've read Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time series, you'll see his influence. Enjoy
Ch. 2
Patches of fog drifted across the face of the pale purple sky, shadows deepening and dancing as if commanded by some fickle hand. Just overhead, the frayed edges of a patch curled in the wind, and the silhouette of trees danced along the shifting plane of the heavens. Ginny blinked, her hazy vision coming slowly into focus. She was not staring into the night sky, but at the canvassed ceiling of her tent. She was covered in heavy blankets, and more blankets were piled around her feet. Without turning her head, she knew she would find Emilia sitting nearby, and Adi closer still. Shifting her legs slightly under the uncomfortable weight of the blankets, she felt the bundle at her feet stir, and saw bright eyes flashing in the morning light.
"Adi," came a sharp voice to her right, "if I cannot compel you to leave, at least give the girl some room. You are practically sitting on top of her."
"She's waking now, Emilia!" said Adi, excitement catching in his throat and making him sound younger than his nine years. He clambered up to Ginny, and through a haze of exhaustion she saw the lines of tears on his brown face. Lifting a hand to rumple his hair, she said, "I'm fine, Adi." His face trembled briefly, as if on the verge of crumpling once more, but he hitched his shoulders and said, "I've been going back and forth between you and Damian. I sat with him every night, but when they said you still hadn't woken up, I ran back over here."
"Wait, nights?" Ginny asked groggily. "How long have I been like this?"
"That is enough, Adi," said Emilia, coming over to the bed.
"But-" It was all he managed before Emilia grabbed him by the collar and physically lifted him from the bed. Ginny's eyes widened as she remembered the strength in the aging woman's limbs. But dragon handlers had to be strong, in magic and in bodily strength. The weak did not long survive in a dragon camp.
Once the boy was chased from the tent, Emilia returned to Ginny's side. She did not speak for what felt like an eternity, only regarded her with narrowed eyes. Ginny winced internally at the set of the other woman's mouth.
"You have been unconscious for three days, fiicã, perhaps you would care to explain what you thought you were doing?"
Ginny squirmed under the covers, but stilled at another look from Emilia. "I don't know. I thought I was supposed to join in, that's what you told me."
"What I told you was to pay attention. Did you not notice what the others were doing? Did you not see the pattern we created?"
"I…I saw the lights, doamnã. I felt everything being tied together. You were pulling magic through my wand, but somehow, it went through all of you."
"We used your wand as a conduit to channel atâ, yes." Emilia paused, waiting for Ginny to put the rest together.
"Atâ," said Ginny, "old magic." Emilia nodded. "But why did you use my wand? I thought you didn't like them."
Emilia folded her arms as if preparing to lecture a child. "Most cannot channel atâ directly, fiicã. Most require some magical substance to draw it through. Having done this they may bend or shape it how they wish. Strigele are taught to use magic without a conduit, like a wand, but there are very few who can handle such power flowing into them. It is far simpler, and safer, to draw it through a medium. Why do you think I have put you through so many practicing sessions, teaching you to begin drawing on atâ through your wand, then weaning you away from it?"
Ginny thought back to the many lessons she had endured out on the hill, drawing just enough magic through her wand to levitate balls and hoops, then directing them without the help of a wand to dance, albeit clumsily, in the air.
"You were supposed to observe the paths that the magic took as it flowed into each woman, and how it wove between all to create a circle, one continuous flow of magic wielded by nine strigele."
Ginny boggled. "I was supposed to figure out all that by watching?" Her temper flared, despite knowledge of Emilia's mood. "I felt it pull me in, I couldn't even stop myself. You should have told me, you should have-"
"I do not know what happened to you, child," Emilia said, and the words froze in Ginny's mouth. "It is an unusual gift to communicate with a dragon so strongly, but it should not have affected you so. What do you remember?"
Pain lanced through Ginny's head as she remembered the feeling of the entire world crashing down on her, all its lights and sounds imploding to a bright ball of pain between her eyes. She reached one hand to rub her temple, then began to pick through the remembered sensations. "It was fine at first, I think. My senses were heightened, but it wasn't more than I could endure." She ducked her head to hide the blush that was beginning to heat her cheeks. "Then I felt Damian. I could feel the weakness in his wings, the itching under his scales. I could feel how much he loves me, and how much he trusts me." She lifted her head then. "I wanted to help him, Emilia, and I'll do anything it takes."
"Yes, girl, that is all very moving." Emilia fingered her skirt with the distracted air of one who has heard similar speeches before. "You still have not told me why you lost control."
Ginny bit down the frustration boiling in her stomach. If the bloody, old...old…hag had told her what to expect, after all! Ginny had the feeling the other woman was holding something back, and was not surprised when Emilia said, "I have spoken with Sorin."
In the back of her mind, Ginny sorted through various hexes to be applied to offending dragon handlers, but pressed on. "Then you know of the wall? You know what it is?"
"I have my suspicions," Emilia said simply. "If they prove correct, we will know very soon."
Ginny was out of bed in an instant, practically clutching the other woman's hands. "Then tell me what it is! What can I do? What can we do?"
"For now, fiicã, we wait, and take precautions. I want you to wear this at all times." She held up a thin leather cord from which a pendant dangled. Ginny took it in her hands and ran her fingers over the smooth, simple design of the dark metal.
"It feels powerful," she said. "And heavy."
"It is made of iron. Do not take it off."
Ginny rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. "So, the solution is to wear necklaces? Emilia-er, doamnã, what is this about? Please tell me what's wrong with him." Her mouth shut with a snap as Emilia held up a weathered hand, a sure sign that her patience was failing. As curious as Ginny was, she would not be able to investigate the pendant tonight if she was cleaning every dish in the camp.
"See to your dragon, girl. I will tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it."
Ginny stood with her hands held carefully at her sides until the older woman had exited the tent, then grabbed a pillow in one hand and swung it violently against the bed until it exploded in a cloud of feathers. With a flick of her wand behind her and a muttered evanesco, Ginny was out of the tent and striding towards the dragon keep.
She had reached the entrance to Damian's tent and was about to enter when her hand froze at the tent flap. Voices drifted out of the tent into the night air: Adi, Sorin, and someone else…Someone decidedly un-Romanian. A stranger? With her dragon? Fear and suspicion welled up in Ginny before she could think, and she strode inside the tent so quickly that she almost ran over Adi.
The boy leapt back to his feet without skipping a beat and grabbed Ginny's hands, leading her over to the stranger before she could protest. "Ginny! This is Silyen, he's come to help Damian! Look!" He pointed away from the man to Damian, and Ginny realized with a start that the dragon was sitting in an upright position for the first time in a month. Mouth hanging open, she walked to Damian and ran her hands over his smooth scales, searching his mind for answers. He did feel stronger, but the wall was still there, if smaller. Turning to Sorin, she raised a questioning eyebrow.
"It's true, fiicã, Silyen has been a great help already. Look at how much better Damian is," Sorin said.
Ginny glanced back at the stranger, who was looking at her oddly. His simple clothes were travel-worn, but clean. Dragon hide boots marked with wear matched the dragon hide bag at his feet, which was bulging with bottles full of dubious looking liquids. She looked up at his face again. A plain face, framed by brown hair, and set with brown eyes that hadn't left her since she entered the tent. The git was staring at her! That, coupled with her frustration at having to do endure so many mysteries in one day, made her temper flare once more. She planted herself in front of him, hands on hips. "Well? What did you do to my dragon? And what are you bloody staring at?"
The man's face broke into a grin Ginny did not quite like the look of. "Do you always go prancing about in your night clothes?"
With a start Ginny realized that she hadn't yet changed out of her sick clothes. A thin, cotton undershirt was all that stood between her bare chest and this leering stranger.
"Not that I mind, of course," offered the obnoxious man.
Reddening, she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to pass it off as a gesture of intimidation. "What kind of name is Silyen, anyway? Not Romanian, of course."
Silyen shrugged. "It's Celtic. Means "sun born." He smiled at her in a way she supposed he thought disarming.
"Well, Silyen, your mother seems to have possessed quite an unfortunate flair for the dramatic," Ginny said, and turned to go, but he seemed quite happy to continue speaking to her back.
"What about you? Are you a gypsy like the rest of them?"
Ginny grabbed a fistful of red hair and all but waved it under his nose. "Does this look Romanian to you? Anyway, they're not Gypsies. The preferred term is Romani, and you'll do well to remember that around the elders."
"I'll do my best," he said dryly, and bent to gather various bottles back into his bag. Ginny stood with her arms crossed until he had shook Sorin's hand and exited the tent. As Silyen disappeared from view Damien let out a shrill whine, at Ginny stared at him in amazement. Damian simply did not behave that way around strangers, friendly though he was. She could feel the disappointment rolling off him as strongly as if she herself had abandoned him. Jealousy and confusion heated her blood for a moment, before Sorin's sharp voice brought her back to reality.
"That was quite a display, fiicã. I would think you would be a little more grateful, considering that he came here just for Damian."
"And what do we know about him, Sorin? How did he know about Damian? How did he know how to make him better?"
"He arrived two days ago," said Adi, coming over to Ginny. "He said he was visiting some relatives nearby and heard about our dragons. He seemed to know exactly what to do. He had all these bottles and potions, and he made me take one to Damian, and the next day, Damian was better." Ginny smiled at the way the words tripped from Adi's mouth in his haste to explain. He obviously liked this man. She rumpled his hair with one hand. "So, you trust him then, Adi?"
The boy's mouth turned down as he considered his options. "If you don't like him, Ginny, then I won't like him either."
"He's done nothing but help so far, fiicã," said Sorin.
Ginny walked to where Sorin was examining Damian. "He does feel stronger, Sorin. But the wall is still there, I can feel it when I touch him." Clearing her head, she let her mind flow into Damian's. Bright reds and golds burst in her mind as she felt the edge of the dragon's excitement. She could feel his eagerness to be outside, and the itching in his wings that hadn't been spread in so long. Damian raised himself up on his hind legs and beat his wings against the floor. Forgetting herself for a moment, Ginny threw her arms around the dragon's neck and laughed, letting herself drift along the dragon's thoughts. Maybe this stranger can cure him, she thought. For a moment, she almost wished Draco were with her, and her face burned with anger at her slip-up. Damian whined again, and Ginny slid off him with a sigh.
"Ginny, what is this?" said Sorin suddenly, catching her by the wrist. He pointed to a spot just below Damian's ribs, where the light caught a flaw in the evenly spaced scales.
"I don't know, Sorin. A loose scale, perhaps? They'll all be shedding soon."
"I do not think so, fiicã." With a finger he lifted the loose scale from Damian's hide. "Come here. Tell me what you make of this."
Ginny bent close to Damian's side, squinting to see in the dim tent light. The skin was green and smooth under the removed scale, except for several pale, raised lines that appeared in the half-light. Ginny gave a start as the pendant around her neck seemed to heat for a moment, then cool as though nothing had happened. She ran her fingers over the ridges in the dragon's skin. "They almost look like scars, Sorin."
"That is what I thought too." Sorin's dark head was bent in thought, and Ginny jumped as he stood suddenly. "I must speak with Emilia, fiicã." He walked quickly to the door and almost crashed into Corina as she entered the tent.
The Romanian woman's dark eyes flashed at Sorin in contempt. Corina was slim, barely more than a girl, with a body that rivaled a boy's in leanness. She wore an abundance of jewelry to make up for her boyish features, and low-slung belts in an attempt to give herself a waist. She made a show of smoothing her intricately embroidered skirts over her hips before addressing them.
"I'm afraid that will have to wait, dragon handler. Emilia wishes to see Ginny. Now."
Her thin lips curled at the edges in a frown, and Ginny suppressed a sigh. She and Corina had begun lessons from the Strigele at the same time, and Corina did not appreciate being made to learn with what she called an engleza, a stranger from England. Ginny made herself release the tight grip she had on her wand. She would enjoy nothing more than hexing Corina into the next camp, but that would never do. "Lead the way, Corina," she said brightly, smiling inwardly at the other girl's scowl. Chit.
Corina led Ginny in silence past the campfires to the small hill where Emilia was waiting. She dismissed Corina with a wave of her hand, and the furious young woman gripped her skirts so tightly her knuckles turned white as she marched straight-backed back down the hill. Emilia's eyebrows rose to her hairline, but it was Ginny she spoke to.
"I want you to look at this, fiicã." She dropped a small, rounded piece of metal into Ginny's hands. It looked like age-darkened iron…or was it earth? The strange object was smooth under her fingers and dipped down to form a little hollow. "It's a bowl," she whispered to herself, confused. She turned it over and over in her hands, puzzling. The dark material seemed to both absorb and reflect light, at times cool and others quite hot. Ginny felt oddly drawn to it, and almost protested when Emilia took it out of her hands.
"It is sonda, girl." She held the bowl up to the sky, where it shimmered for a moment before reflecting the roiling clouds gathering in the dimming sky. She lowered it and it changed again to blend in with the green grass under their feet. "A relic from ages past, we have lost the knowledge that made their creation possible."
"But what does it do?" asked Ginny, her palms practically itching to hold it again.
"It is like your wand, in a way, fiicã. You may use it to draw on magic, but more magic than you could pull through any wand. There is something in the making of these sondas that allows us to hold enough magic to destroy half the dragon camp, if we wished."
Ginny stared at the bowl doubtfully. "So, it's like an amplifier?"
"If you wish. Would you like to hold it again?" She held out the bowl once more. "You may try it, if you like, but let us not repeat the incident with your dragon."
Ginny took back the bowl, noticing for the first time the spiral etched into its inside surface. Her eyes followed the coiling line as it wound around and around the bowl, until it came to rest at the center. As lightly as a breath of air on her cheek, Ginny felt the magic beginning to flow through her. Magic, pure as fresh spring water, poured into her from the bowl, until she felt soaked in it. It was the most wonderful sensation she had ever experienced, so much so that she did not want to shift that power away from her to perform any magic. She would just stay and hold the bowl forever, drinking in the sensation. Vaguely she was aware of Emilia saying something to her, and with a jolt snapped back to reality as Emilia took the bowl again from her hands.
"Fiicã, if you cannot learn to concentrate-" Emilia looked annoyed, but faintly amused. "We will begin learning with these tomorrow. You will come to me at dawn to begin new lessons."
For once Ginny did not complain. These sondas were far too interesting. "Are there more, doamnã? I mean, in the camp? Do the other Strigele have them too?"
"There are more, girl. We have enough for ourselves, but there are many that have been lost. And there are more still that we do not know the purpose of. You have seen the stone sculptures in the forest?"
Ginny nodded, remembering the great, hulking stone shapes nestled amongst the trees in the forest next to the camp. "Draco and I used to go out there to be alone."
Emilia's mouth thinned, but she did not press the subject. "They are sonda also, though we do not know what they do. It is dangerous to try them, you understand?"
"Yes, doamnã, I understand." She doubted she would have time to go running about in the forest in the near future anyway.
"Good." Emilia slipped the little bowl into a pouch in her belt and Ginny sighed. "Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Ginny agreed.
***
Alone in his tent, Silyen lay on his back, deep in thought. Periodically he rolled over or kicked his legs, but he could not get comfortable. Nor could he get the redheaded woman from the dragon tent out of his mind. Worse still, his skin itched as though he had been covered in ants, and he could feel every curling dark hair on his head prickling into his skull.
"Sod it," he said suddenly, reaching into his dragon hide bag for a small green bottle. "I don't have to sleep in this." Grimacing before the foul liquid had even passed his lips, he drained the little bottle and set back to wait. The transformation back was not nearly as painful, for some reason.
He waited until his stomach had settled and the feeling that his flesh was melting off his bones had abated. He stood and stretched, reveling in the feeling of being in his own skin again. He ran his hands through his hair, thankful that his fingers were met with smooth, silvery-blond strands, rather than the thick, curly brown hair that so resembled the Mudblood.
Laying out a bottle holding the contents of tomorrow's dose on the little table by his bed, he lingered in front of his mirror as though he needed a reminder that he was still himself. Cool, grey eyes looked steadily back at him, and he smiled. "Still a Malfoy," he said, and waved out the candles.
***
Next chapter: a trip to town, lurking vampires, and Draco gets a little bit closer to Ginny. *scampers away*