The Dragon Guard Read Online Free Page B

corner beam of the roof.
    Jason crawled out of the porthole, finding it a more difficult job than he had many months ago when he’d first left his room that way, and stood on the slanted roof which made up the ceiling and walls of his attic room. A figure sat, knees doubled up, arm out for the crow to land on. With a smile, Jason went to join him at the precarious edge of the house.
    â€œWell met, Jason Adrian,” said Tomaz Crowfeather solemnly, his rich deep voice full of the inflections of the southwest American Indian. His crow nibbled a bit on his denim sleeve, before tucking his head under his wing and resting.
    â€œFine,” Jason said as he settled down next to his elder. “We won in the League semifinals today, going to the finals!”
    â€œThat is good. But you sent a message of worry?”
    Jason nodded. Quickly and as clearly as he could paint the imagery, he told of the spectral Jonnard who’d challenged him on the soccer field. Tomaz listened with great interest, saying nothing till Jason had finished, and then asking him only a question or two to clarify. Then both fell into deep silence while Tomaz considered what had happened. Finally, he gave a low grunt. The very last of the sunlight caught the silver rowels on his belt and turquoise stone bracelet, as he gestured at Jason.
    â€œJonnard is not wise. He has given us forewarning that the Dark Hand is prepared to move again. We can use this in two ways: first, to tweak at Brennard that his son is a fool, and second, to ready ourselves. This is good you told us of this. Gavan will have to know as soon as possible.”
    â€œI tried contacting him, but I got no answer.”
    Tomaz nodded. Jason watched his face, noticing for the first time that a bit of gray had begun to show among the straight black strands of the Magicker’s hair, and that the weathered lines in his strong face had grown deeper and sharper. A Magicker aging? The thought almost chased away his other concerns. “Eleanora is ill, Jason.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong? Cold or something?”
    â€œWe don’t know what’s wrong.”
    Those words, coupled with his noticing new signs of age on Crowfeather, made Jason grow very cold for a moment, and stopped his words in his throat. He thought of the Magicker Fizziwig, Gavan’s class-mate, who’d suddenly aged into a white-haired old man, and then into death. . . . He managed to take a breath. “Not . . . that . . .” he said.
    Tomaz lifted and dropped a shoulder in a shrug. “We do not know yet.” He stood, in a fluid movement that did not even disturb the crow on his forearm. “Jason, I will pass this on, but you must keep trying to contact Gavan or Eleanora or Freyah with this, in case I don’t reach them. It’s too important to let go.”
    â€œYou won’t be able to tell them.”
    â€œPossibly not.” Crowfeather looked over the sea of ordinary rooftops, as night began to hide most of them well and truly, and treetops brushed about them in a gentle night breeze. “I have a project I must tend to, and will be gone a while.”
    â€œWhere?”
    Tomaz smiled slowly, and dropped his free hand, large and warm, on Jason’s shoulder. “I follow the track of the wolfjackals, Jason. I trust you to keep this between us, but you, more than the others, may understand.”
    The scar on the back of his hand gave a tiny pulse of pain, and Jason flinched slightly. “Tracking them here?”
    Tomaz shook his head. “No. Tracking them to where they came from, and where they go—and to what master they answer.”
    â€œBut . . . but . . . they belong to the Dark Hand.” Tomaz shook his head again. “No, Jason, I do not think so. Although they seem to thrive on the evil and chaos the Dark Hand stirs up, events suggest that Brennard is no more in charge of them than we are. Then . . . who is? We need to know.”
    Jason