The Bond (Book 2) (4 page)

“We need to expand dragonlinked numbers, which does mean we will need volunteers.”

Cheddar and Willem glanced at each other, eyes bright with excitement.

“Or, at least
one
volunteer to start,” Master Doronal said.

The two hopefuls’ faces fell.

“There’s no need to fret, we will need several at some point. But there is much that needs to be thought about and discussed before we start taking too many volunteers.”

“Exactly,” Sharrah said. “For instance, dragons aren’t small, their food needs are enormous. And where would one house multitudes of dragons and their bond-mates? And how does one even select potential people to be dragonlinked? What qualifications do we look for?”

“Indeed,” Master Doronal said. “Not to mention the fact that we don’t know how to get more dragon young for this undertaking, nor whether more dragons would be amenable to being linked.”

They should be
, Anaya told Aeron.
Deep inside, every dragon knows they have a purpose. It only takes some reminding.

“Anaya thinks we will figure it out,” Aeron said.

“I agree,” Master Doronal said. “Toward that end, I want all of you to think on this matter. In order to better protect communities in our region, we will definitely need more dragonlinked. I’d like to have a meeting tomorrow afternoon to discuss ideas, concerns, and such.”

He looked at Aeron, then Millinith. She was twirling a finger around a lock of her blonde hair over and over, lost in thought. “Aeron will take you tomorrow morning to examine the creature.”

She looked up and nodded. “Good. The more pristine carcasses I can examine, the more I can learn.”

“That should give you two time to study the nahual beforehand.”

Aeron nodded absently. More dragonlinked! He looked at Willem and smiled. How amazing would it be for Willem to have his very own dragon? They could all go flying together! He couldn’t wait.

It will be very fun!
Anaya’s excitement flooded through the link.

“That should be plenty of time,” Millinith said.

“Excellent.” Master Doronal stood. “Tomorrow afternoon, then?”

The others nodded and began taking their leave. Aeron asked Willem to stay behind.

Sharrah looked at them, lips crooked in a smile. “Don’t take too long, Willem. Lights-out is soon.” Then she and Cheddar left for the dormitories, leaving the two boys alone.

“I want to try something,” Aeron said, “with magic.”

Willem raised his brows and with a dubious expression, said, “Okay.”

“Hold out your hand,” Aeron instructed. The concerned look on Willem’s face made him laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m just going to cast the glowing ball of light spell on it, Dagur’s Gleam.”

Willem nodded and held out his left hand, palm up.

Aeron quickly wove the spell. A small ball of light appeared, floating two inches above the extended hand.

“What is it you’re trying to accomplish,” Willem asked, eying the glowing, walnut-sized orb. He poked at it with his middle finger and thumb. They passed right through it.

“Well,” Aeron said, “when a spell is anchored to someone, cast on them, it’s like they are linked to the caster with those bracelets used in magic craft training. I want to see how that affects you.”

Willem quickly withdrew his fingers from the ball of light. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“What? Oh, no. Magic doesn’t hurt, in general.” Aeron removed Dagur’s Gleam and then cast it again. “Anything?” He stared intently at Willem.

“Well, I see the ball of light. I, um, I’m not sure what—”

“It’s alright,” Aeron said, slumping into a chair.

“Is something wrong?” Willem asked as he stared at the ball of light. It was fixed in place, floating over his palm. When he moved his hand, the glowing orb moved with it.

“No, not really. It normally takes a while anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

If Willem had been able to see the flows of magic directly, that would have been definite proof he wasn’t magic-blind. But it took most people days or even weeks of being near magic in use before they could sense it. To make matters even more complicated, each person ‘saw’ magic in their own way, in a way that made sense to them, personally. So telling Willem exactly what to look for was impossible. Everyone had to discover how they saw it on their own.

Aeron glanced back at the spell floating around Willem’s hand. It looked like vibrating ribbons—bands of various thickness and hue. Each band was a type of magic focus, placed just so, making the spell look like an intricate puzzle-box of color. As a spell was woven, the bands slid and locked into place, very much like the wooden novelties. Most spells weren’t actually in the shape of boxes, but they put him in mind of those puzzles.

Aeron frowned. Willem
had
to have magical ability. Dragonlinked definitely needed to know how to use magic, at the very least for defensive spells and to be able to counter nahual magical attacks. If Willem had absolutely no magical ability—

You need not worry
, Anaya said.
Willem is . . . nice.
Then, sounding thoughtful, she said,
I have been using that word for two things, but I need a different word for this.
A better word.

A word?
Aeron looked through the door at Anaya where she lay curled in her den.

She lifted her head and turned to him.
For a person who is a good . . . candidate.

Candidate?

For Bonding. Because Willem is a good candidate.
A pleased rumble came from her.
That is the word to use. Candidate.

Relief washed over Aeron.
So, Willem is a candidate?

He is a
good
candidate.

Aeron furrowed his brow.
Are there bad candidates?

There are people who are candidates, people who are good candidates, and people who are not candidates at all.

Oh. Well, what makes a candidate?

People who are not candidates would never be chosen. They are blind to magic, or
 . . . mean? There are many reasons they are not candidates. All candidates, however, could be chosen. It comes down to the personality of a dragon, what they like, as to which candidate they will choose.

Aeron nodded.
I see. So then what’s the difference between a candidate and a good candidate?

Those who are only candidates are limited in some way.

What do you mean, limited?

One of the reasons you and Willem are good candidates is because you both could love anyone.

Aeron glanced at Willem, still playing with Dagur’s Gleam, and smiled.

There are people who cannot or will not. They are limited. They might still be candidates, just not good candidates.

What are the other reasons we are good candidates?

Anaya lay her head on the ground, eyes still on Aeron.
People have an inner . . . strength? You two have good inner strength. There are more reasons, but not all are so easy to explain. I get a feeling, a sense, about a person.

Oh.
Aeron mulled over that thought a moment.
How do you know so much about people?

I get impressions of them, almost hear their thoughts. Not anywhere near as strong as with you through the link, but after a short time near them, I can tell what kind of a person they are.

Do you know of other candidates besides Willem?

Anaya closed her inner eyelids.
All your friends are candidates or good candidates. There is also the boy from when we were at the farm. We played in the snow with him. He is a candidate. And the boys who were so impressed with me on that hill when you were scouting gateway locations. They are candidates or good candidates, too. And there are many here where we live, like the girl who asked a question that first night when everyone in the Caer came to see us. She used to come see us all the time, and she still does, sometimes.

“Liara?” Aeron blurted aloud, surprised.

Willem looked up from the glowing orb. The top of it stuck out through a book he had placed on his palm. “What about her?” he asked.

She is the one
, Anaya replied sleepily as she closed her eyes.

“Anaya mentioned her,” Aeron explained.

Willem nodded. Then, with a wry smile, he said, “I think she has a crush on you.”

“Anaya?” Aeron asked, confused.

“No!” Willem burst out laughing. “Liara.”

“Oh.” Aeron nodded. Then his head snapped around. “Wait, what?”

“You never noticed?”

Aeron shook his head. “I guess I’m kind of blind, or stupid, about those things.”

Willem placed the book back on Aeron’s desk. “Yeah, I think she does. It made me worry a bit, too. That you might . . . might start liking her.”

“She’s nice, sure. Pretty, too. But—” Aeron stared at Willem. The expression on the blond boy’s face, the look in his eyes—shy, almost scared—made Aeron’s heart thump once, hard. A sudden and strong desire to protect Willem came over him. He said, “I certainly don’t feel like this when I look at
her.
”

Willem’s face lit up with an enormous smile and he let out an awkward laugh, almost a giggle. Then, he blushed, cleared his throat, and looked around the room—anywhere but at Aeron. “Barbs,” he said, gaze landing on the chronometer. “It’s almost lights-out.” He waved his hand at Aeron. “Quick. Take this off.”

Still thinking about his feelings, it took a moment for Aeron to understand what Willem was saying. Then he stood, concentrated, and removed the spell.

Willem, an apologetic, almost wistful look on his face, said, “I’ve got to run,” before heading for the door.

“Hey,” Aeron said.

Willem looked back from the doorway. “Yeah?”

“I–I’ll see you in the morning, right? Before Millinith and I head out?”

“Sure, of course.”

Aeron smiled. “Good. ‘Night then. And hurry, don’t get in trouble on my account.”

“Goodnight.” Willem smiled and closed the door. His quick footsteps faded in the distance soon after.

Aeron couldn’t believe everything that had happened this night. The thought that Willem might be able to fly on his own dragon with him and Anaya made Aeron very happy. The prospect of more dragonlinked was exciting, too, as was the idea of practical spell training. The drills should help him get better at fighting nahual. If he was going to honor his mother’s memory, fight and defend against the beasts that killed her, he needed to figure out this whole dragonlinked thing. Besides, he wanted to have a better grasp of it before any new candidates did. And speaking of which, where were new dragonlinked going to stay? Where was there room?

+ + + + +

Lora applied night-cream to her elbows, arms and hands, rubbing it in well. She was careful not to get any on her silk smallclothes. Next came each of her legs, with special attention to knees and feet.

Though in her forties, she prided herself on having skin just as soft and supple as when she was a girl. After similar attention to her neck and face, she put on the long, silk night robe she had placed on the dresser, then sat in front of the vanity and began brushing her hair.

“I heard from my sister today,” she said.

“Oh?” Eldin, also in silk nightclothes, sat at his small desk in the nook on the side of the bedroom. As was his custom every night, he was going over the last of the reports for the day.

“Yes. And her handwriting is as prefect as ever. I do so enjoy the letters we send each other.”

The sound of papers and parchments being leafed through came from his direction. “What did she have to say?”

“Oh, mostly sister-talk. She did mention the dragon again.” The silence made her glance at his reflection in the looking glass. He held a report, though he seemed to be staring ahead. “Apparently,” she continued, “Baronel has plans for the boy and dragon, plans that he will put in motion soon.”

“Oh? What plans?”

She placed the brush back on the vanity and looked at herself in the mirror, turning her head from side to side. “She didn’t say. Maybe it has to do with the investigation of nahual. Baronel has been focused on that for years. I don’t think she knows much about the project, specifically.” Standing, she walked over to Eldin and hugged him from behind. She whispered teasingly in his ear, “It seems her husband tells her as little about all his plans as mine.”

“My love,” he turned his head and smiled at her, “do you really want to know everything that goes on in the Caer every day?” He gave her a quick peck on the lips. “You’d cry from the boredom.”

She chuckled and stood, smiling. “Truer words were never spoken.”

There was a knock on the door. Lora cinched her robe closed with the belt before opening it. A runner stood in the hallway.

“My Lady,” he said, bowing. “Apologies for the late hour, but Master Philippa requests Lord Eldin’s presence.”