The Wandering Dragon (Children of the Dragon Nimbus) by Irene Radford Page B

closer to the air where dragons flew. Glenndon sought the hot spring pool at the bottom of the small cascade where he’d bathe and play with Indigo, a juvenile dragon. Lukan just went up, wherever was convenient.
    This tree seemed to offer him sanctuary.
    So he stood from his cross-legged seat and stretched tall with both hands. Not too far above his head, he found a study branch—oak, he thought, from the texture of the bark and size of the leaves—and pulled himself up by the strength of his arms.
    When he got a leg over the branch he paused to rotate his shoulders and figure out what to do next. There were more stout branches within easy reach. His instincts told him to keep going up. He scooched around until he had his balance and stretched one arm up. Grasp, center himself, swing a leg over. Three times he moved higher by almost his height each time.
    Just as his fingers brushed the bark on a fourth branch, the wind blew the wood beyond him.
    Rest here
, the wind, or the tree, or whatever else, suggested.
    Legend claimed that sometimes the Stargods or the dragons spoke to the journeyman candidate here on Sacred Isle.
    “Rest?” But not sleep. This was a vigil, a time to keep watch through the night, to think, and contemplate. If he slept he’d probably fall out of the tree.
    A chuckle of agreement the next time the breeze rustled in the leaves overhead.
    “I’ve done this before,” he told his tree as he locked his ankles around each other beneath the branch. “Three years ago when a fox raided Mama’s flusterhen coop every night for a week. None of us could catch the predator. So Glenndon and I took turns staying awake and watching. Glenndon fell asleep. I climbed an everblue and stayed awake. I caught the fox and took it far away from the Clearing. Da told me to kill it. But I knew Mama would feel the death and be sad for days. So I gave the fox a good mental shake with magic and told him next time Da would kill him and take his carcass to the University for the cooks to make a meal of him. He never came back.”
    Lukan settled his back against the wide tree trunk and clasped some narrow side branches. Ah, much more comfortable than on the ground. Mostly because he was up.
    Up was all that mattered right now.
    He watched tiny pinpoints of light peek through the shifting cloud layer. A north breeze sent them scurrying toward the nearest magnetic pole, way far to the south.
    Memories of Mama and her empathic touch with animals and people made him smile. The sadness of losing her faded a little. He had so many good memories of her, including endless arguments about eating meat. So he and Da and Glenndon, and sometimes Valeria, took many meals at the University, where meat was plentiful. The cooks understood that throwing magic, even with the aid of a ley line or gathering of dragon magic, cost a body more energy than it could hold. Magicians ate a
lot
to fuel their bodies. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a fat magician. They always burned more than they could possibly consume.
    His mind flicked to Skeller, his companion during their wandering away from home, away from Skeller’s love for Lily, and away from Lukan’s anger toward Da. An anger that here in this tree Lukan was having a hard time remembering where it came from and why he’d nurtured it so long.
    “Lily taught Skeller not to eat meat. He still respects her wishes. I wonder . . .” He drifted off into another line of thought that touched on Souska.
    He liked the girl well enough, what little he knew of her. They’d only met a couple of times. She seemed so lost and vulnerable he’d felt compelled to give her a smile and a little encouragement. During his long nights on the road when he needed to reach out and talk to someone, anyone, from home, her pinched and pale face, and only her face, came to mind. But instead of growing stronger and more independent with each lesson, he found her clinging to him more and more, forcing him to make