Free Stone Dragon (The First Realm) by Klay Testamark Page A

stage.
    My thoughts drifted, but then the wind changed and I was back on course. I remembered I was angry, fucking furious , and it was suddenly a good idea to see if I could breathe fire.
    I turned to my master. “Make a fool of me, would you?” I stabbed a claw in his direction. “I’m onto your game, old man. This is nothing but an elaborate jest, starting with that nonsense about me being a prince.”
    Part of me thought this was wrong, all wrong, but another part was shouting fight fight fight . I was drunk with anger and maybe rum balls, because who counts cookies, even if they’re alcoholic cookies? I stalked closer to the stage. “Did you think you could make me do something I didn’t want? I am not your pawn, little man. You have pushed me one square too far.”
    Findecano’s hand lashed out, but the local magic field was completely depleted. Sparks escaped his fingers, but that was all.
    I turned to him. “You think to burn me with your pathetic cantrip?” I growled. “It is I who will burn you .”
    I reared, triangulating on him and his mate. I gathered my breath and waited for them to twitch. Tari blinked, and I threw my head forward and spat white-hot plasma.
    * * *
    Several things happened at once.
    The Lord Governor turned to shield his wife, for all the good it would do. Meerwen tackled me around the neck, but without her magic she only weighed as much as any elf girl.
    As the plasma left my mouth I thought, Shit, I really AM a dragon .
    And Valandil Telerunya, former royal adviser and my mentor, stepped into the line of fire with his arms outstretched. With the last of his power he shielded the two people behind him, giving them time to tumble off the stage. Then his magic failed and he died instantly. At least, I hope so. His skin boiled off, his flesh turned black, and his skeleton fell apart. I was a gigantic blowtorch— nothing could stand before me.
    Four combat mages came in through the skylights and smashed into the ground around me. They must’ve come in high, gathered their energies, and dropped through the no-magic zone with full mana reserves. They crackled with power. But then, so did I.
    While the glass still rained down, the first magician started with the classic fireball—hits like a rock, explodes like a bomb, and burns like napalm. But I twisted my head and it flew past.
    BOOM. The magician on the other side hit me with another fireball, rocking me sideways. My scales weren’t even singed.
    “Did you just attack a fire-breathing dragon with fire? ” I said. “That’s like attacking a polar bear with snowballs, isn’t it?”
    I lashed out with my claws, caught the first black mage, and bit his head off. The third mage hit me with a blast of cold and the fourth turned the floor to quicksand.
    “Hey, not fair!” I said. My paws scrabbled for purchase and my wings flapped for lift but the cold had sapped my strength and I sank under the surface. The marble closed over me and became solid again.
    “Did we get him?” said one of the mages.
    —I burst out of the ground, flapped my wings, and leaped straight up, crashing through the dome and trailing chandeliers on my wings.
    * * *
    Dragons used to be such a mystery.
    For one thing, how could they have six limbs? There’s no precedent. No reptile in the fossil record has so many legs. And how could they fly? They were too big, too heavy, and they certainly didn’t have the breastbones for it.
    Yet here I was, a dragon, and I wasn’t just flying—I was flying fast .
    Turns out dragons are thaumavores, or magic-eaters. They feed like other animals but also derive sustenance from the ambient energy. Flying, for instance, was possible through air magic. I wasn’t even flapping my wings. My body was taking in magic as it came to me, then blasting it behind me for propulsion, like some kind of air-breathing rocket. Wings swept back, I made good time.
    Holy balls, what did I just do?
    We finally got rid of that meddlesome old