The Caged Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 1) Dan Michaelson (online e reader .TXT) 📖

“Maybe not,” I said.

“Besides, why would there be smoke near the forest?”

“That’s my point,” I said.

“You think the forest is burning?”

There were the occasional fires , though the rains were frequent enough that they didn’t burn for very long, despite how dense the forest was. “I doubt it’s the forest,” I said. “We’ve just gotten out of the rainy season.”

Joran shrugged. “And what do you think it is?”

I turned my attention back to the work, digging slowly. “Nothing. I don’t know why I’ve been paying attention to it.”

Joran started to laugh, and I looked up at him.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You don’t know why you’re looking? I think I know.”

“Why?” I asked him.

“Because you’ve always been curious,” he said. He set the shovel down, nodding. “Come on. You aren’t going to be able to focus on anything until you go and have a look.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Joran just grinned. “It means that I know you, Ashan. We can ride over, take a look and see what’s burning, and get back before the storm.”

“We won’t be able to finish the fence,” I said. “And until we do, I can’t let the livestock out.”

“You can’t let them out in this section, but there are other parts of the farm you’ve already fenced in. Besides, you weren’t going to have this done until much later.”

He was right. Had I done it on my own, I would have taken the better part of the week to do it. Working with Joran, we had nearly gotten it done in the last two days. I should be thankful, and more than that, I had time to take a break to investigate. I could see Joran wanted to.

“If it will satisfy your curiosity, then we can do that,” I said.

Joran laughed softly. “If that’s what you want to believe..”

We headed over to the barn, and I got my horse, Adela, saddled. She was a dappled gray mare, stout and sturdy, and not at all as rambunctious as Joran’s horse, Wind. It wasn’t long until we were heading along the road, moving quickly toward the smoke curling in the distance, and the increasing thunder. The storm clouds hadn’t moved that much, but it wouldn’t take long before they were.

“We should be careful,” Joran said. “From what my father has said, the Vard have been more active lately.”

I frowned. “The Vard haven’t bothered us this far north for years.”

Joran shrugged. “I’m not so sure. There are plenty of Vard sympathizers within the city.”

“There have always been sympathizers. We’re too far to the west for there not to be. Quite a few people even think the king shouldn't have conquered the plains.” Even with the sympathizers present, there had been no evidence of actual Vard in the city.

“The king shouldn't have conquered us,” Joran said.

“Not you too,” I moaned.

“You know how I feel about this,” he said. “Long ago, my ancestors were—”

“I know all about your family,” I said. “You make a point of telling me every time the Vard come up in conversation.”

“My mother tells me they were low-ranking Vard nobles,” he said.

“Which makes you what? Some sort of duke. A baron?”

“I don’t know. I never got the chance to be Vard nobility. Instead, I’m nothing more than a stupid sheepherder.”

“There’s nothing stupid about herding sheep.”

“That’s easy for you to say. Your cattle stay in place. The chickens and pigs, too, for the most part.”

“Then maybe you need to do a better job training your sheep.”

“Not just the sheep. The goats. Even the pigs. They all like to wander off.”

I chuckled. “At least you have others at home who can help.”

Joran’s face clouded. “I wasn’t insinuating that,” he said.

I shook my head. “I’m not trying to upset you.”

“No? Well, you have a strange way of going about it.”

“Leave it to you to find something interesting to go look at while storms are brewing,” Joran muttered. The roadway was slightly elevated, with the ground sloping off to either side. The hard-packed King’s Road was well maintained. It was the only way to travel from the capital city of Carlath in the east to the town of Berestal on the far western edge of the kingdom. It skirted south, cutting through a swath of lush, dense section of the forest, to connect our home in the plains to the rest of the Laganarl Kingdom.

As we made our way along the road the smoke began to dissipate. I fixated on the drifting smoke as we rode, and couldn’t help but feel as if this was a waste of time. It might satisfy my curiosity, but was it worth it?

Thunder rumbled overhead, the storm cloud moving closer.

“We should head back,” I called over to Joran.

“We aren’t that far from it,” he said. “You’re the one who wanted to come out here and see what this was. At least let us have a look.”

“I do, but I also don’t want to get caught in a storm.”

“It’s the end of the rainy season. It’s not going to be a bad storm.”

I flicked my gaze up toward the clouds. They were moving quickly now. There was something ominous about the darkness that swirled within them, and lightning crackled every so often, emitting a flickering light.

This was going to be a significant storm.

In the plains we had two seasons: wet and dry. Even so, our dry season got more rain than the rest of the kingdom. We had just come through the height of the wet season, where daily rainfall made it difficult for any travel along the King’s Road. We were isolated for the most part, but would get the occasional caravan that came through, but even those were infrequent. The horses were accustomed to it, and they plodded along, unmindful of the muck they trudged through.

“We’re almost there,” Joran urged.

We slowed as the road led up a small, hilly rise lined with waist-high grass. When we topped the hill, the tree line loomed into view. The King’s Road cut through this