Free DragonFire by Donita K. Paul

if I admit only your fair lady and her minor dragons? We must maintain a careful balance, encouraging Paladin, but not tiring him.”
    “Of course.” Bardon kissed Kale’s cheek. “Tell him that we petition Wulder for the return of his health.”

    Kale watched Paladin from the chair by the window. Late afternoon light filtered in through gossamer curtains. As the breeze stirred the soft material, a shadow danced over Paladin’s pale features. The trick of the light turned his complexion gray, then green, and last, a mottled ash.
    She pulled Gymn out of her moonbeam cape, but when she placed him on her friend, the healing dragon slinked over the sleeping form, emitting low moans and distressed whimpers.
    “Can you do nothing, Gymn?”
    The small green dragon settled, curled up on Paladin’s chest, directly over his heart.
    Kale spent the time reliving every moment she had spent in Paladin’s company, every tale she had ever heard of his exploits, and each time she had seen him in action. The stories brought images of vitality to her mind, a direct contrast to the scene before her.
    Wake up! Wake up!
    She leaned forward. “Please, Paladin, wake up. We need you. I need you.”
    Gymn lifted his head and blinked at her, then chirruped. Paladin’s chest rose as he took a deep breath. His eyes opened, he sought her face, and he smiled when his gaze caught hers.
    “Kale, my Dragon Keeper.”
    He reached out a hand. Kale took it and moved to sit on the side of the bed.
    “You look so frail,” she said. “I’m afraid for you.”
    “Afraid for me? Surely not. If I die, I go to be with Wulder. I will dance and sing with those who have gone before me. I think you fear for yourself.”
    Kale nodded reluctantly. “Yes, and for Amara. What will the country do without you, Paladin?”
    “The people of Amara can do very well without me, but not without Wulder. I am just a conduit, a link to Wulder. But the high races, for the most part, have abandoned looking up to Wulder, and therefore I am not needed.”
    The room darkened. Kale looked to the window to see if a cloud had come between them and the sun. A mist hung over the countryside where a moment before the hills had sparkled with sunshine. She looked back to Paladin and saw him fingering a string. He handed the end to her. As soon as her fingers wrapped around the thin cord, Kale felt herself caught up in an illusion. She stood on a knoll surrounded by grassy plains. A kite sailed above her, tugging at the string.
    She heard Paladin’s voice, strong and vibrant, unlike the wheezy tones of his sickbed.
    “What do you see, Kale?”
    “A colorful kite dancing in the sky, reaching higher and higher.”
    “What do you hear?”
    She listened. “The sound of a breeze rustling in the tall grass, crickets, birds. I hear life all around me.”
    “What do you smell?”
    She took a moment to sort out the fragrances. “Flowers, moist earth, the sun-heated, green plants.”
    “What is the kite telling you?”
    This was harder. She pondered what he could mean, but as she watched the bright bit of paper and slender sticks bob and sway against the backdrop of blue, she understood.
    “It tells me which way the wind blows and how strong the wind is.”
    “And if a storm should approach, what would you do with your kite?”
    “I’d wind up the string. I’d bring it down. I’d hold it close and run for shelter.”
    Black clouds gathered over her head, and Kale fought to pull the fragile kite from the sky. When she had it in her hand, she pressed it against her chest and raced to a gully. Her feet tangled in the cloth strip that served as the kite’s tail. Stumbling forward, she managed to twist and land on her back in a depression in the hillside. Large, icy raindrops pelted her face.
    The kite sprang from her arms, expanded, and changed from sodden paper to a tough, slick material that repelled water. It snapped and crackled above her, then stretched taut over sturdy poles