The Caged Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 1), Dan Michaelson [heaven official's blessing novel english .TXT] 📗

Bernt patted her on the shoulder. “That’s because it is. It’s all too easy to get lost in there. I don’t want you ever heading into the trees, thinking that you might be able to find your way back out..”

“See?” she said, looking over to him and sticking her tongue out again. “It’s a wonder you even listen to him,” Joran said.

“I’ve always listened to Papa.”

Bernt beamed. “That you do,” he said.

“What do you think the dragon was doing?” Joran asked.

I shook my head, shrugging. “I have no idea . It was strange to see it flying so low. When I’ve seen a dragon before, it’s been from a distance.”

“What’s the closest you’ve been to a dragon, Papa?” Sophie asked.

Bernt shook his head. “It’s been a while, but I was there when Berestal was claimed. The dragons gathered outside the walls. They made a point of showing us just how deadly they could be.”

“How did they do that?” Tara looked up. Something in her expression had changed. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it seemed as if she didn’t like hearing stories about the dragons. Most people within Berestal found the dragons appealing, but it didn’t seem that she was one of them.

“They showed how quickly even rock could burn.”

“Rock can burn?” Sophie asked in a whisper.

“With dragon’s fire, anything can burn. There’s nothing quite like it,” Bernt said, his voice going soft. “I remember quite well what it looked like, and how it felt. The power coming from that dragon was enormous. And to think there were a dozen of them. That was why Berestal was claimed as quickly it was.”

“What did they want Berestal for, anyway?” Sophie asked.

“To keep it from the Vard,” Tara said.

Bernt shrugged. “Maybe,” he started, “but we don’t really know. All we know is that it’s become an outpost for the king. That’s valuable to him. Berestal gives him access to the Wilds, and a means for him to navigate the trade routes beyond..”

“He’s probably going to try to claim the Wilds as well,” Tara said, turning away and looking toward the fire.

“Tara,” Bernt chided.

“He will,” she said.

“We don’t know that. We don’t know what the king intends. No one but the king knows.”

“His wife might know,” Sophie said. “I imagine the queen sitting in her palace, helping the king decide who he will go after next. Can you imagine what that must be like?”

There was something about the way that she said it that reminded me of how Alison had wanted to see the king’s caravan, the same awed tone and look of determination, if only so that she could feel a little bit closer to royalty.

“I doubt he lets the queen in on anything,” Tara said. “He probably keeps the queen locked up in a room and only marches her out when he’s—”

“Tara!” Bernt said. He shot her a look, turning briefly to me and shaking his head. “She gets strange ideas in her head.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Stone,” I told him. “My sister does the same thing.”

“Maybe it’s just girls her age.”

“My age?” Tara asked, looking over to him. “Girls my age often end up getting married. Having babies. Starting a family.”

“Not quite your age,” Bernt told her, his tone softening.

“I want to get married and have children,” Sophie said.

Bernt just shook his head, smiling. “Someday you will.”

“Unless she’s kidnapped by the Vard,” Joran said. “Of course, the Vard probably don’t want somebody like her. She would be more trouble than she’s worth.”

“How do you know?” Sophie asked, sticking her tongue out at him. “They might like me. And while I’m with them, I could convince them to stop attacking. See? I could do good for the kingdom.”

Bernt patted her on the head. “I’m sure you could,” he said. He lifted her and looked over to Ashan. “I see Tara has brought you some bread. Are you still hungry? Need anything else?”

“Not right now, but thank you, Mr. Stone.”

“Hopefully this storm will pass, and we’ll be able to get on with things,” he said. “It’s been looking like we were going to have a nice stretch of weather, but…”

Joran opened the window and looked out, the sound of the storm whipping around. Thunder rumbled, and every so often, lightning flashed, letting us know that the storm still wasn’t quite gone. It was as if it wanted to remind us just how powerful it was.

I got to my feet, pulling my jacket around me. I was mostly dry, and as I headed over to the window, the wind rushed in. It wasn’t quite as cold as it had been before. But that was probably because I was no longer drenched, so not suffering quite as much.

“Did you really see a dragon?” Joran whispered.

I nodded. “Yeah. It was a blue one.”

“I don’t know if the colors matter,” Joran said.

I chuckled. “I don’t either. I remember thinking when I was younger when I saw the dragon atop Marshal’s Tower that the color had to matter. That it meant the dragon’s magic was different, but I think they’re all the same.”

Another peal of thunder rumbled distantly.

“It’s too bad we won’t be able to find that Djarn path,” he said.

I agreed, smiling slightly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Joran asked. “You’ve got this strange smirk. I haven’t seen that look from you in… well, quite a while.”

I grunted. “There isn’t any look.”

“Are you going to tell me what you are hiding from me, then?”

“What makes you think I’m hiding anything from you?”

“I told you. It’s that look you’re giving me.”

I turned to the window, watching the fading storm. “I'm pretty sure I can find the path again.”

“Even though the rain would’ve washed it away?”

“I marked the trees,” I said, pulling my knife out.

Joran’s eyes widened slightly. “You marked them?” He glanced over to the doorway leading back to the kitchen. Bernt had slipped away, leaving Tara sitting and staring at her hands. And Sophie, who