The Betrayed Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 2) by Dan Michaelson (list of e readers .TXT) 📗

I shrugged, glancing over to the dragons. In the distance, I noticed Brandel and Kane, the other student who had been with them, lingering near the bars of the dragon pen. Either they were trying to listen or they were waiting for me. Possibly both.

“There was a testing near my home.”

I figured that was the best answer, at least given the current circumstances. He didn’t need to know anything more than that.

“Ah. You’re the one Manuel brought to the city.”

I blinked for a moment before nodding. “I am.”

“He said you had potential. That you were raw—though most are raw when they first come to us. Potential is only a part of what matters. Skill matters more than strength.”

First Donathar, and now this man?

How many people had Manuel spoken to about me?

“Thanks, I guess?”

The man grunted. “I meant no slight by it. Everyone needs to learn somehow. The key is putting in the time and the effort to ensure that you gain the connection to the dragons that you should have.” He watched me for a moment, and there was a heat in his eyes. “You said you recognized the connection I shared with the brown dragon.”

I turned, looking into the dragon pen. Nearby, I could practically feel Brandel smirking at me. I ignored it, holding onto the iron bars that held some of the heat within the air—some of it coming from the bright sun shining down, the rest coming from the dragons themselves. I could feel that energy radiating toward me, through me.

Were I not so nervous, I would try to open myself up to the dragons, to see if I might find a way of holding onto that power. Instead, I allowed myself to feel that energy, testing whether there was some aspect of it that would permit me to feel the connection to the dragon.

“I could feel the connection trailing off of you,” I said.

“Interesting,” the man said, getting to his feet and making his way toward the dragon pen. He was a little taller than me, and he moved with a strange sort of liquid grace. Heat radiated from him, and I suspected that came from his connection to the dragons. “What else can you tell me?”

I shook my head. “Probably not much. I can just feel the connection that you had with the dragon. I don’t know what you’re doing with it, if anything. Just that the power that connected you to the dragon is there.”

“What can you feel now?”

Energy shifted from him, no longer radiating in the way that it had before. Now I could feel the way it shimmered, coming from him and through the small, pale blue dragon. It wasn’t nearly as potent as the connection to the brown dragon. Heat filled the man, and as I looked over, watching him, I noticed a faint trailing of flames along the dragon pen, streaming from one hand, working up the bars, and connecting to his other hand.

“Other than the way that you’re holding on to the power?”

The man nodded. “Yes. Other than that. What else can you detect?”

“You shifted connection to the dragon here,” I said, motioning to the pale blue dragon. I could feel that connection, that energy, but more than that, I could see the way the dragon seemed to lean forward, perched to hold on to the power. It was difficult for me to know whether or not the dragon minded the way he connected to it.

It was the first time I’d even considered that, though. Most of the time, the dragons didn’t give off any sense they minded what had been done to them. For the most part, the dragons permitted those with the connection to use that power. In this case, I recognized that the dragon gave that energy willingly, almost freely.

“I did,” he said. The flames trailed off of his fingers, working around the bars, then drifted up and back down before fading and disappearing. Energy shifted again, this time surging now from the red-and-yellow-scaled dragon. It was a different surge of energy. This one seemed to forge a hint of power, though it was a different sort of power than what the other had.

I turned my attention to that dragon. He had stirred, getting up slightly, resting his forelegs on the ground as he shifted so that he could pay more attention to the man now connecting to him.

I found myself marveling at the control. I had known that dragon mages, especially those who were incredibly skilled, had a connection to multiple dragons, and could use that power in ways that others could not, but seeing how quickly and easily he shifted his touch from one to another, switching between the different dragons as if it were nothing, left me amazed.

“You detected that as well,” the man said.

I nodded again. “I did. I can feel the way you’re pulling on power.”

He released the connection to the dragons. I felt it when he did, the sudden disappearance of the connection to any of the dragons. He still held some heat within him, and the flames he wrapped around the bars of the dragon pen stretched up and then back down, maintaining a connection for another moment before it faded into nothingness. Heat wasted from him, as if he still held on to some of that buried dragon power—unless he had some magic of his own.

“You will meet me here tomorrow morning. At first light.”

“I have classes in the morning,” I said.

The man shook his head. “No. I will make sure your instructors know I have requested your presence.”

“And who are you?” I asked.

The man watched me for a moment before smiling tightly. “Why, I am Thomas Elaron.”

He started to move away, and it took a moment for his name to sink in.

Thomas Elaron was the king’s mage.

The chief dragon mage.

The dragon mage who had come to Berestal for the selection.

Of course he would know what happened there.

And here I’d