Free A Time of Darkness (The Circle of Talia) by Dionne Lister Page A

natural magic had been unknown by the dragons—Drakon had transported the dragons to Talia, thinking it was a safe and rich land, not realizing the gods of the Inkrans had other ideas. The old stories were lost to most dragons, and Drakon hadn’t explained to the realmists the knowledge and power the Inkrans used to have. The dragons just knew it signified a darker time, a time of shame and imprisonment.
    “We do what we have to—you said it yourself. You won’t hear us complaining. The only thing I’ll ask is that you hold on tight. There is a strap on the saddle,” Zim shuddered as he spoke, “that you put over your lap—it should help you stay on.” He looked at his sister. “Are you ready, Princess?”
    Arcese laughed. “Yes, Brother.”
    It had been many years since he’d used that affectionate term with her, and she was glad to be reminded of their childhood. “Shall we?”
    They turned to face the end of the corridor, and Arie wondered what they were doing—there was no door or window. Zim walked and placed his hands on the solid stone. He shut his eyes and concentrated. When he removed his hands, the wall slid sideways with a sound like a giant grinding his teeth. Arie guessed the stone had disappeared into a recess.
    A ledge ended four feet in front of the opening. The valley spread before them; acres of lush grass shaded near the river by majestic trees. The rain had ceased, and the clouds were clearing; rays from the sun spilled over the western peaks to illuminate the valley floor. Two dragons were out on the thermals, gliding and playing, deftly swooping low before rising up to where eagles nested. Arie stood, hypnotized, while the breeze caressed his face, its spring-scented fingers trying to wriggle beneath his hood. He stepped closer to the edge, not wanting to miss anything, not wanting to forget. Agmunsten grabbed his arm. “Not so fast. That’s a long way to fall.”
    Arie shook his head, disengaging the stupor. When he grinned, Agmunsten basked in the unfettered and untarnished joy of the twelve-year-old. “Don’t worry; I wasn’t going anywhere.”
    The opening in which they stood was not wide enough for them all. Arcese spoke. “Arie, please come inside and climb onto my back. It’s time we embarked. I imagine King Edmund is eager to receive us.”
    Arie walked in and settled his pack on his back. He patted the dragon’s neck. “Sorry Arcese, and thank you for allowing me this privilege.”
    “You are welcome, young Arie.” Arcese crouched down and braced herself for the boy to climb on. She knew it wouldn’t hurt—she would hardly feel the weight of his skinny body—but the feeling of being commanded or forced by another was something she feared. Maybe it was in her blood, a genetic remembrance from ancient times. Her eyes closed as Arie placed one foot in the stirrup.
    Arie reached up to grasp the edge of the saddle; even crouching, as she was, Arcese was tall. He heaved himself on and flung his leg over, stepping his other foot into the stirrup hanging over the other side. After he strapped the leather belt over his lap, he looked for somewhere to hold on, as there were no reins—the dragons had not agreed to that. “Arcese? Where can I hold on?”
    “Place your fingers under my scales. Your gloves will protect your fingers from getting cut, and my scales won’t fall off.” Arie found two scales, just behind either side of the dragon’s shoulders. Each scale was about the size of a man’s hand. Arie leaned forward to burrow his fingers under them. He noticed Arcese’s subtle scent, a mixture of damp earth and fresh rain, and wondered that he’d never noticed it before. Of course dragons would smell like something; he’d just never imagined what it could be, and if he’d been asked to imagine, he probably would have expected they’d smell like horses or smoke. He was glad he would have been wrong.
    Confident he was seated comfortably and had something to hang