Read Online The Dragons of Bone and Dust (Tales from the New Earth Book 7) by J. J. Thompson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J. J. Thompson
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from the east. Simon eventually felt
strong enough to stand and forced himself to his feet.
His leg had stopped bleeding,
although the cuts on his fingers still dripped a bit. He ignored
them.
The one good thing about having lived
to middle age before he'd Changed, he thought, was that pain wasn't
as scary as it had been when he'd been as young as he looked now.
He had landed in a rolling meadow
filled with long grass and dotted with small trees. A forest
surrounded the glade, but after his time in the elven realm, Simon
thought that it looked small and not very inspiring.
The trees might have grown to heights
of fifty feet or more but he was used to forests that towered
overhead for hundreds of feet. He doubted that most earthen forests
could compete.
He also had absolutely no idea where
he was. He could see a few fir trees as well as elm and maple, but
that told him nothing. If only he could Gate home, but...
Simon caught himself and laughed at
his own stupidity.
“ You're
home, you idiot,” he said out loud. “Your powers should
have returned.”
He raised his hands and looked at
them. Bruised and bloody, cuts scattered across his fingers, they
were still whole and he wiggled them tentatively.
Could he still cast spells? Was he
still a wizard? Surely living in the elven realm hadn't destroyed his
talent. Had it?
“ Only one
way to find out,” he murmured.
Simon searched the grass around him
until he found a small length of wood. It was a dry old branch about
a foot long. The breeze was light and the wizard pushed back his long
mane of hair as he held up the stick and stared at it intently.
Try the simplest form of magic first,
he thought. If it doesn't work...well, one step at a time.
He frowned at the branch, focusing
all of his energy on it.
“ Fire,”
he whispered.
The stick trembled in his nervous
grip as he stared at it. At first, nothing happened. It was merely a
length of pale, dried wood. But as Simon kept his will focused on it
with laser-like intensity, a small wisp of smoke began to curl up
from its tip.
The smoke grew thicker and then, with
a bright flash, the branch burst into flames.
“ Woo-hoo!”
Simon shouted with glee.
He flung the stick straight up and it
burned to ash in a flash of fire. He wrapped his arms around himself
and laughed in joyous relief.
I'm me again, I'm me again, he kept
thinking with almost hysterical relief.
He wasn't sure why, but he'd been
halfway convinced that months of being without magic might have
changed him forever.
Months in the elven realm, he told
himself as the happiness faded, to be replaced with a dose of cold
reality. Years here on Earth.
How many? He didn't know for sure.
Ethmira had said three, but even the elves couldn't be positive. It
might have been more; much more.
Ethmira. Simon prayed that the blood
he'd seen on the mouth of the kallorian had been its own and not his
friend's. He might never know. If the time lines were stretching
between the realms, his Magic Mirror spell might not be able to make
a connection. But he'd try to reach her at his first opportunity.
Right now it was time to go home and
learn how much time had really passed since he'd been away.
Kronk will know, Simon told himself.
And Aeris. I hope that they've kept the tower in good repair.
A pang of worry struck him as he
remembered his last moments on Earth. His two elemental friends had
tried to hold back Lacertus, the godling who had been chasing him.
They hadn't succeeded, and now Simon wondered if they were okay. He'd
thought about them many times since, but had tried to put the
situation out of his mind, mainly because there had been nothing that
he could do about it.
Now though, now he was home and the
worry came crashing down upon him once more.
I have to see them both, he thought.
Right now.
He adjusted the pack on his back and
realized with a pang that he'd somehow managed to lose his elven bow
during his headlong scramble toward the portal back in
strong enough to stand and forced himself to his feet.
His leg had stopped bleeding,
although the cuts on his fingers still dripped a bit. He ignored
them.
The one good thing about having lived
to middle age before he'd Changed, he thought, was that pain wasn't
as scary as it had been when he'd been as young as he looked now.
He had landed in a rolling meadow
filled with long grass and dotted with small trees. A forest
surrounded the glade, but after his time in the elven realm, Simon
thought that it looked small and not very inspiring.
The trees might have grown to heights
of fifty feet or more but he was used to forests that towered
overhead for hundreds of feet. He doubted that most earthen forests
could compete.
He also had absolutely no idea where
he was. He could see a few fir trees as well as elm and maple, but
that told him nothing. If only he could Gate home, but...
Simon caught himself and laughed at
his own stupidity.
“ You're
home, you idiot,” he said out loud. “Your powers should
have returned.”
He raised his hands and looked at
them. Bruised and bloody, cuts scattered across his fingers, they
were still whole and he wiggled them tentatively.
Could he still cast spells? Was he
still a wizard? Surely living in the elven realm hadn't destroyed his
talent. Had it?
“ Only one
way to find out,” he murmured.
Simon searched the grass around him
until he found a small length of wood. It was a dry old branch about
a foot long. The breeze was light and the wizard pushed back his long
mane of hair as he held up the stick and stared at it intently.
Try the simplest form of magic first,
he thought. If it doesn't work...well, one step at a time.
He frowned at the branch, focusing
all of his energy on it.
“ Fire,”
he whispered.
The stick trembled in his nervous
grip as he stared at it. At first, nothing happened. It was merely a
length of pale, dried wood. But as Simon kept his will focused on it
with laser-like intensity, a small wisp of smoke began to curl up
from its tip.
The smoke grew thicker and then, with
a bright flash, the branch burst into flames.
“ Woo-hoo!”
Simon shouted with glee.
He flung the stick straight up and it
burned to ash in a flash of fire. He wrapped his arms around himself
and laughed in joyous relief.
I'm me again, I'm me again, he kept
thinking with almost hysterical relief.
He wasn't sure why, but he'd been
halfway convinced that months of being without magic might have
changed him forever.
Months in the elven realm, he told
himself as the happiness faded, to be replaced with a dose of cold
reality. Years here on Earth.
How many? He didn't know for sure.
Ethmira had said three, but even the elves couldn't be positive. It
might have been more; much more.
Ethmira. Simon prayed that the blood
he'd seen on the mouth of the kallorian had been its own and not his
friend's. He might never know. If the time lines were stretching
between the realms, his Magic Mirror spell might not be able to make
a connection. But he'd try to reach her at his first opportunity.
Right now it was time to go home and
learn how much time had really passed since he'd been away.
Kronk will know, Simon told himself.
And Aeris. I hope that they've kept the tower in good repair.
A pang of worry struck him as he
remembered his last moments on Earth. His two elemental friends had
tried to hold back Lacertus, the godling who had been chasing him.
They hadn't succeeded, and now Simon wondered if they were okay. He'd
thought about them many times since, but had tried to put the
situation out of his mind, mainly because there had been nothing that
he could do about it.
Now though, now he was home and the
worry came crashing down upon him once more.
I have to see them both, he thought.
Right now.
He adjusted the pack on his back and
realized with a pang that he'd somehow managed to lose his elven bow
during his headlong scramble toward the portal back in
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