The Caged Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 1) by Dan Michaelson (miss read books .txt) 📗

The Caged Dragon

Cycle of Dragons Book 1

Dan Michaelson D.K. Holmberg

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Author’s Note

Series by Dan Michaelson

Similar Series by D.K. Holmberg

1

A thin trail of smoke drifted up in the horizon, and I paused from the fence post I’d been setting long enough to look up at it. It spiraled toward the low-lying cloud cover, drifting toward an ominous storm cloud, floating over the forest and toward us. The steady rumbling of thunder had been with us for the better part of the morning, andI suspected a typical storm would come, but didn’t know when that would be.

“I know you wanted my help, Ashan, but I don’t really want to get drenched if I don’t have to,” Joran said.

I looked over to my friend. He had a wide, sun-darkened face, and the hat flopping over his ears fit the long hair stuffed beneath it. We were about the same height, though I was more solidly built, and I didn’t have the same lanky hair as Joran. He leaned on the section of fence that we had already repaired and wiped the sweat from his brow. It wasn’t a hot day, but hot enough.

“If you stop taking breaks as often as you do, we might manage to get another few posts in before the rain comes,” I said.

Joran grunted, wobbling the post that we had just buried. He kicked at the dirt around it, stomping on it. “What was I thinking, helping you with this? Figures you’d be thankless.”

I chuckled, wiping the sweat from my brow and trying to keep my wavy black hair from falling into my face. “You were thinking you owed me.”

Joran glowered at me. “You keep reminding me of that, but it doesn’t make it any easier for me to want to help.”

“Then don’t want to help, just do the work.”

I set back to my task, digging at the post hole. There were only a few more posts that needed to be placed before we were done. As I leaned into the shovel, Joran started whistling. Another rumble of thunder came, and I glanced up, flicking my gaze to the trail of smoke.

“What do you keep looking at?” Joran asked.

I cupped my hand over my brow. “Out there. I’m not really sure what it is.”

Joran squinted, staring in the same direction as me. “I don’t see anything. Nothing other than storm clouds coming our way. I think you’re waiting for the storm to hit us.”

“If it comes, we just go into the barn.”

“You can go into the barn. I’m going to your house to see if your sister made anything to eat.”

“I’m sure Alison won’t turn you away.”

Joran glanced toward the simple farmhouse. The single-story white house was nestled on the small rise that was set back from the road where we were working. The windows were open, letting in a gentle breeze. The smell of my sister’s baking drifted out of the windows, tempting me. Joran, too. That was probably why he had been so agitated.

“How about we just do one more?” I asked.

“I told you I was going to help get this fence done, so let’s get it done. We can enjoy Alison’s sweet breads later.” He winked at me before turning back to his work.

I paused, leaning on the shovel as I watched him. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“Like what?” Joran asked.

I frowned at him. “Like it’s something more than just her baking.”

Joran shrugged. “I can’t help it if Alison is sweet on me.”

I arched a brow at him. “Alison is sweet on you?”

“Now that you mention it, she probably is. Not that I can blame her. She sees a strapping young man like myself, and she knows what I have to offer.”

I groaned, lifting the shovel to start digging again. “What exactly do you have to offer?”

“Someone who keeps her brother out of trouble.”

I stared into the distance again. That trail of smoke was troubling, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. Mostly because it came from the forest, and I wouldn’t normally expect to see any smoke coming from there. It was said the Djarn who lived in the forest provided some sort of magic to protect it. It would be nearly impassible if it were not for the King's Road.

“Whatever you’re looking at has grabbed your attention. Why don’t we go and take a look?”

“You just want to stop working,” I said.

“I’m not going to deny that, but I know you, Ashan. You’re not going to let it go until you figure out what it is.”

“We need to finish this fence.”

Joran wiped an arm across his forehead. “You need to finish the fence. Not ’we.’ ”

“Fine. I need to finish the fence. And you’re here to help me. Since I have your help, I want to take advantage of it.”

Joran chuckled. “I'd say that you've been taking plenty of advantage.” As he leaned on the most recent fence post it started to bend, startling him. He jumped up, spinning toward me, a flush coming to his cheeks. “Besides. Whatever has caught your eye must be more interesting than whatever we’re doing.”

“I’m not so sure that it is. It’s just smoke.”

“Smoke?” he asked, frowning at me. “Why would you care about smoke?”

“It’s not that I care about smoke. It’s that I care about where the smoke is coming from.”

“And where, exactly, is it coming from?”

I nodded into the distance, and Joran turned, looking out toward the twirling smoke that was rising there. It might be my imagination, but it was thicker than it had been before. Darker. Much like the storm clouds that were moving in. Thunder rumbled again, and Joran just shook his head.

“There’s no smoke over there. I don’t know what you’re seeing,