The Betrayed Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 2), Dan Michaelson [best books to read all time .txt] 📗

creaking every so often, forcing him to clear his throat. "Do you see what these two are doing? Perhaps utilizing a similar technique would be beneficial for you. I can't say that I know what it is that they are doing, much like I can't say that I know what it is that you need to do."

I resisted the urge to say anything more.

Instead, I nodded. How could I do anything else? I had Master Onas willing to work with me, in his own unique manner, but even as he did, I doubted that I would find anything here that would be of much use.

Still, it was worthwhile for me to try.

I continued attempting to summon the connection.

It did not come to me the way that I wanted it to though.

The heat was there. Thankfully, I could do that much, but beyond that, there was nothing else. Just failure.

"Try again," he said, looking over at me. "Feel for the heat, and then begin to push it through you. All you must do is find that. I'm sure that you can do that."

"I . . ."

"He won't be able to do it, Master Onas. We've seen that he does not have that talent. He will be relegated to riding on the dragons."

He said it as if it were some slight, but I stared at him, ignoring the barb, feeling as if riding on a dragon were not such a consolation prize.

"He's far too old for that. He must learn when he's young; otherwise, the dragons will not take to him. He must do this, or he will not proceed."

My heart sunk, and it was only amplified by Brandel's grin as he looked across at me. If I didn't succeed, then I was no longer going to be able to stay here. I wouldn't be a dragon rider. I would certainly not be a dragon mage.

Which meant that I would return home. I would become a farmer as I had believed I would. I would be a failure.

I couldn't help but sense that Brandel felt amused by my annoyed reaction. I tried focusing on the heat within me, but I’m not sure that it made much difference.

“You must focus,” Master Onas said, and he looked at me with an expression that suggested that he wasn’t sure whether I would be able to even do what he asked—not at all with the same encouragement I saw from Jerith, though there were times when even he seemed frustrated with me.

“I’ve been trying,” I said carefully, aware that I couldn’t get angry. I had to be cautious with what I said, and how I said it.

“What do you feel when the heat burns within you?” Master Onas asked.

I looked down at my hands. “I don’t know that I feel much of anything.”

Across from me, I could practically feel Brandel snickering. I didn’t need to be here. I could be anywhere else, studying in a different way, on my own, or perhaps even with any of the other master instructors, but I was here in the Academy for a reason. I would learn. Why did I care what Brandel thought?

I didn’t.

That thought alone was empowering, even though it shouldn’t make a difference.

He irritated me, but he didn’t have anything that mattered to me. He wasn’t the one to decide whether I succeeded or failed. That was on me.

I focused on my breathing, steadying it as I had been taught. From there, I began to think about the heat within my belly, the same heat that my father had mentioned feeling around the dragons, something that suggested to me that my father had much more experience with them than I had ever known. After that, I tried to think about what that heat might do.

“It’s there. It simmers.”

Master Onas crossed his arms, watching me. “Let it simmer, then. Work with it. You listen while I work with these others. Perhaps in time you will discover some trick from what they are doing. Keep working with them outside of our sessions.”

I looked over to Brandel, though I had a hard time thinking that he would be willing to work with me. I had a hard time thinking that I wanted to work with him.

Master Onas continued to drone on about how to feel the heat flowing within, and then how to push it out, finding the necessary channels. The others seemed to know exactly what he instructed, and all of them, including Brandel, managed to use that power in a way that created flames that went spiraling out from them—and beyond that, patterns that they turned and twisted.

They would all become dragon mages.

When I had focused on the simmering within me for a while, I got to my feet, nodded politely to Master Onas, and stepped out of the room.

I headed back to my quarters when I practically ran into Ames speaking to Donathar.

They were at the end of the hall, and Ames was looking up at him. Donathar was a large man, solidly built, and looked to me as if he might have done well on a farm. Not that I would ever tell a dragon mage that he could have been a farmer, but he certainly had that build.

“Have you told any of the other instructors?” Donathar was asking.

Ames shook his head. I stepped off to the side of the hall, knowing that I shouldn’t listen, but at the same time, I didn’t want to interrupt, either.

“You are the first one I came across. I have been working with the dragons for the better part of the day, and the red one didn’t return.”

Donathar nodded slowly. “I will look into it.” He patted Ames on the shoulder. “And you should get back to your studies. You have potential.”

Donathar headed off down the hall, and Ames came in my direction. He shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

“What is it?” I asked Ames.

He looked up, as if suddenly realizing that he wasn’t alone in the halls.