The Dragon of Charred Scales

Closing the Cage

Jacob

My body shivers awake, and I pull the blanket closer. But unconsciousness eludes me. Too cold to sleep any longer.

I have not napped in the middle of the day in years, since I had gotten really sick in middle school. I had thought that it would have done wonders for my body, but even now I am tired. I need a week off from training, or at least a week of gentle training. But that will not happen.

Under the covers I turn to my other side. Despite the ability to warm the air around me in dragon form, I sleep in human form. The sheets and blankets suffer no harm and I do not have to deal with my tail and wings getting tangled. Everyone says I just need practice, but how much sense does it make to say you need to practice sleeping?

I am almost seventeen years old. If I do not know how to sleep, I have real problems. No, I just have this giant thing called a tail with spikes and these long, folded up things called wings. They are designed to rip up fabrics and get tangled in them. How Oculeera does it I have no clue. I cannot verify if any other dragon sleeps as such.

I look over at the small night stand this room came with to distract myself from that nonsense. Two books sat on it. One from the library on spells for archaeology and the other a late Christmas gift from my foster family. A redone version of Da Cru-pilo Dogantig, written not for a couple of younger kids but for a dragon who knows what they are. It is also completely in Draconian but not with Draconian letters.

It was weird, coming back from training a couple of weeks ago to find a box, covered in white wrapping paper with reindeer and snowflakes, and my human name on it. It had been awhile since I had heard the name Jacob Derikson, and it felt odd that it was indeed my name after being called Novayar for so long. Then I realized it was a Christmas gift in the middle of January. With my birthday coming up in a few weeks, I guess any gift I may receive for that will arrive late in March.

All three of them wrote notes saying what has happened, when they moved back after fixing the roof, and how much they missed me. I feel so guilty for not writing back to them, but I need paper and something to write with. And enough time with a clear head to compose something good. Perhaps now would be the best time, and Master Shiekgane said the library gives out limited supplies of paper. Trees are not common around here.

I start to get up, but the cold air hits me. You would think a building full of dragons would be heated if nothing else by their body heat and breath. We are flamethrowers, for crying out loud, something I know very well. Even now, flames still try to flicker in my nostrils if I am not careful.

As soon as I am free of the covers, I transform and cast my heating spell. I still do not get how dragons evolved in such a harsh land. I would not have thought any sort of reptilian would find a home here, even a hot blooded one like us.

Again, a look at the new book. With Oculeera's help I have read most of it. But it is the letters that hold the most value to me. Something I really need to return the favor of but have not. What can I tell them? A lot of the history and abilities I have learned are secrets of dragon kind. I have done nothing exciting except learn to fly and control my magic. Maybe something short will work. They will at least know I have not totally forgotten them.

In a hurry to get this done and return to my bed, I start jogging down the hallway to the balcony, just as Oculeera lands and walks towards me.

"Where are you going?" she asks as we meet.

"To the library. I remembered I ought to write back to my family."

"Oh. Do you want me to go along?"