The Lost Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 3) by Dan Michaelson (good summer reads .txt) 📗

Tucked in along the side of the road, the farm looked like a little white speck down in the distance. I couldn’t tell if there was any smoke streaming from the chimney, as there had been every day of my childhood. I could see the barn, but no animals. I wondered what happened to our horses and the livestock I had taken such painstaking care of over the years. I could just make out the fence I’d been working on before I had departed for the city the last time, little more than a faint line running across the ground.

The dragon took a leisurely approach, flying slowly, as if giving me time to continue studying the ground, staring down at it. I pressed power through the cycle, trying to tell the dragon that wasn’t necessary, and we started toward the forest.

We didn’t need to do that, either.

I guided the dragon, steering him north. We were heading away from the Kings Road, but we were heading someplace I thought I could visit. I didn’t know if I could head into Berestal itself, not with the dragon, but I could go and visit with Joran and his family, and perhaps make sure my sister was well. Manuel might have been keeping tabs on her, but it wasn’t the same as having someone I knew, someone who cared about my family, watching over them.

When Joran’s farm came into view, we looped around before I guided the dragon behind the hillside to land.

I scrambled off of the dragon’s back. “Will you wait for me?”

The dragon sent me power through the cycle, and I took that as agreement.

From here, everything was familiar. Beyond the ridge in the distance would be Joran’s farm. I had climbed the nearby trees when I was younger, scrambling over branches to see which of us could climb the highest. We had all played games around here—Joran and his sisters, me and my sister. Kicking balls, hiding, and living as children. There was something powerful about returning.

It was easy to lose sight of my purpose in the capital. I had gained an understanding of the dragons, and I had connected to them, but it had to be about more than that. I needed to know that what I did—my reason for being in the city—had purpose and meaning. I needed to know I belonged there. I needed to know I should remain, and I didn’t need to return here to check on my sister and my family. For so long, that had been what had driven me. I had wanted to serve my family, to help them, to protect them as best as I could. Leaving had left me conflicted, feeling as if I had abandoned them.

At the same time, leaving had given me an opportunity to learn more about myself and my connection to the dragons; it had given me the chance to understand I could be something more, that there was a larger world out there.

I took a deep breath. I had been awake most of the night, but was not nearly as tired as I would’ve expected. I headed up and over the hillside, moving slowly at first, though I increased my pace as I got closer and closer to Joran’s farm. I could smell the smoke coming from the house, along with a mixture of other smells—aromas that suggested they were home.

It was comforting to me—familiar.

Everything had been so foreign and strange over the last few months that it was nice to have a bit more familiarity.

When I crested the rise, I saw the house. I had no idea what time it was, though I suspected it was early. I hadn’t seen any sign of Joran or his father or sisters, though they would have to be there somewhere.

I approached carefully. As I did, I reached for the dragon power, then realized the foolishness of that. I had lived on these lands my entire life without needing to access the energy of the dragons, and the first time I returned I felt as if I needed to?

That wasn’t necessary.

I pulled on the power, cycling it through me, using it only to help me stay a little more awake, and then released it, pushing it back toward the dragons. There was no need for me to hold on to that cycle any more than I already had.

I took a deep breath, and when I let it out, I again started toward the home.

It was a small home, all stout wood, a single story that had been added on to over the years to give Joran and his family a bit more space. It was a place that had once seemed so large compared to my own home, but having been in the capital, having lived within the Academy, and having visited the palace, it seemed cozy, but certainly not large.

I stepped up to the door when it came open and a small form slammed into me.

Sophie was Joran’s youngest sister, and she had her brown hair pulled back in pigtails, her head lowered so that when she rammed into me, she knocked the wind out of me. She bounced off, and looked up, frowning. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know that we had . . . Ashan?” She stepped forward, grabbing my jacket and holding on to the fabric. “What are you doing here? What are you wearing?”

I chuckled. “Hey there, Sophie. It’s good to see you too.”

“You’ve been gone,” she whispered. “Joran told me you left.” Her eyes widened slightly. “You went to the capital. To the Academy.” She looked at my jacket with a renewed interest, her eyes staying wide. “Is that really where you went, or was Joran lying to me?”

I nodded slowly. “I’ve been training at the Academy.”

“Training? He said you were trying to reach dragon magic? You can’t do that, can you?”

It might be easier to explain I was a dragon rider than it would be to explain I was a dragon mage.