“Something with the dragons?”
“Only that one of the dragons didn’t return. I wouldn’t have paid any attention to it, but I have been working with that one.”
“It’s probably nothing. The dragon that I used for my testing didn’t return right away, either.”
“You haven’t been here very long. You don’t know how unusual that is.”
“For the dragons not to return?”
“The dragons are safer here in the city. With riders. With mages. That’s why we have the pens. Outside the city isn’t safe.”
“The pens don’t hold the dragons.”
“They don’t have to hold them. They offer safety.” He shook his head. “It’s probably nothing, just like he said.”
Ames started off, and I watched him go. There was something about the way that he said it that left me wondering if that were really the case. Maybe there was more to it.
It was late. The sun had started to set. I’d been standing here for most of the day, taking breaks only to get food and water—and even those breaks had been infrequent. I held the bars of the dragon pen, squeezing them, holding on to the connection I shared with the dragons. I could feel that energy, the same connection that flowed out from the small dragon, and let it roll through me as it worked from one hand to the next, connecting between me.
In the time I’d been here, I could feel that power building, the connection that formed, and I recognized the power there, even if I couldn’t completely control it. I felt as if I needed to find some measure of control within it—though so far, I had not completely succeeded.
I wasn’t about to abandon it. I still felt the torrent of power flowing from one hand to another, though I had found a way of controlling that torrent a bit better than I had when Thomas had worked with me.
If I were to work with him again in the morning, I intended to make it useful. I intended to be ready for him to instruct me and show me what else I might be able to do with this power. I had to hold tightly to that magic and that connection in order for me to know whether I could use that power in ways that would be similar to the dragon mages I had seen.
The energy was there, rolling through me, a vibrant connection to magic that left me almost trembling. I had come to know how that power worked from one hand to the next, much the way Thomas had demonstrated. The next step was trying to find a way to tighten that power, harnessing it in a way that would focus that energy, narrowing the band so that it could be even more tightly controlled. I strained for that energy, and could feel the way it flowed through me. It seemed to touch upon that deep part of me, that buried heat I could feel, the second step in preparing to open myself to the dragon. But I had to restrict the flow to harness it.
When I had attempted to constrict that power before, it had required me to limit the power coming to me from the dragon, though the dragon connection wasn’t something I could limit. What I needed to limit was my own use.
Wasn’t that what I had seen Thomas doing? When he had held on to the power of the dragon then released it, there was still some that lingered, remaining behind after he had let it out.
That was what I needed to touch upon. If I could find some way of holding that power, letting that flow from me, and maintaining a hold of it, then perhaps I could limit the flow. Later, I could work on what was involved in trying to turn that power into the flames that I had seen other dragon mages using.
For now, all I wanted was to harness that power, to find a way to maintain the flow and the connection that worked within me, and to master it in a way that enabled me to use some aspect of it.
It started to boil within me, a roiling sort of heat that stretched from the dragon, filling me. The energy that coursed out from one hand to the next began to bubble up, as if by doing what I was doing now, I somehow limited my connection to the dragon, changing in a way that made it much harder for the dragon to contribute power to me.
Maybe that was a mistake.
The only part of it that left me questioning whether it was a mistake was the fact that I could feel that heat beginning to build within me.
The heat seemed to be the key. When I had seen other dragon mages using the power, it had left their energy flickering with tongues of flame. If I could hold on to that power within me, letting it begin to simmer, I might be able to create flames that rolled around me.
I tried to do that now.
As I did, I could feel the energy bubbling, the power that was building, and I tried to harness it, letting it wrap through me. I tried not to overwhelm myself, not holding too much power as the heat and pain that came with it was almost more than I could bear, but I felt that power there.
I pulled some within me, letting it stay deep inside of me, practically restricted.
In doing so, I recognized something else.
There was a hint of a different kind of power.
As it bubbled up, I recognized that heat, that power, and I recognized that there was some aspect of it that was almost more than what I could fathom. I strained with it.
The heat exploded.
Flames started to shoot from my hands.
I sucked in a breath, trying to control it, trying not to release too much power, but I couldn’t help what was taking place—nor could I help the power that was flowing within
