The Forging of the Dragon (Wizard and Dragon Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

dropped to its forepaws and shuffled out of the underbrush. Then it sniffed the ground where Seagryn had stood. “Stinks of tugolith.” The giant bear snorted. Then it lifted its huge head, eyes gleaming, and followed.
     

 
    Chapter Two
    DARK TIDINGS
     
    SEAGRYN sat alone beneath the blackest night he could remember and faced the sobering truth. “I can’t become a wizard! I loathe wizardry!”
    “You’ll grow out of that,” a voice above him said, and Seagryn grunted in shock and leaped blindly away from it. “A good thing, too,” the voice continued, “since self-hatred can really cause you problems. Are you all right?”
    Seagryn was not all right. He’d landed spread-eagled upon a pile of loose gravel and had slid several feet down it. He pushed himself up on his hands and peered into the darkness. “Who’s there?” he demanded.
    “Some consider me the voice of the Power.”
    Clearly it was a youth, Seagryn thought to himself, and an impudent one! “The One we do not name is ageless!” he barked. “Surely that One’s voice has had time to change!”
    The unseen stranger chuckled. “I bet you imagine the Power as an ancient grandfather with a floor-length beard.”
    “I do not discuss the One in such disrespectful terms,” Seagryn answered self-righteously. “Nor do I appreciate talking to a person I cannot see !”
    “You can’t see the Power yet you talk to H —”
    “Who are you?” Seagryn roared, leaping to his feet. That was a mistake. The gravel slid beneath him, and he wound up back on his face, this time a few feet further down the slope.
    The youth cleared his throat, then announced, “I am Dark the prophet. And I would be happy for you to see me, but you’ve neglected to start a fire. I wish you’d done so, since that would have made it a lot easier to find you.”
    Seagryn pushed himself onto his knees and began scraping bits of imbedded sand from his burning palms. “I had nothing with which to start a fire,” he grumbled.
    “There’s wood —”
    “But I have no flints!” Seagryn shouted. “I had no time to prepare for this journey,” he added sourly.
    “Oh, you had time,” the boy chided. “You just chose not to face the fact you were leaving.”
    Seagryn carefully got to his feet and stared savagely toward the voice. Unfortunately, his fierce expression was quite lost in the darkness. “And what do you mean by that?”
    “You know.”
    “I don’t know, but I should like to know!” Seagryn challenged, sliding cautiously forward through the gravel as he balled up his fists. “Who are you? Why are you following me?”
    “I didn’t follow you; I met you here,” the voice answered with youthful annoyance. “And I already told you who I am.”
    “You said you were Dark the prophet!”
    “Then you did hear?” the boy asked sarcastically.
    “Show yourself!” Seagryn demanded.
    “You want me to pull the moon down through the clouds and hold it up to my face? You’re the powershaper, not I.”
    “And you are an impudent boy!” Seagryn proclaimed. “Continue to taunt me and you’ll suffer for it!”
    “What’ll you do?” the voice mocked. “Run your horn through me and eat me for supper?”
    Seagryn’s stomach knotted with self-revulsion, and he fought a sudden dizziness. The boy knew . Guilt gushed through him. After a silent moment, the youth asked:
    “Are you still there?”
    Seagryn didn’t answer. Instead, he sat down in the gravel and put his head in his hands.
    “You know, most powershapers can make fire, if they try ...” the boy suggested.
    “What’s a powershaper?” Seagryn mumbled. He no longer looked toward the voice. His head ached.
    “A powershaper shapes the powers. He — or she — is a wizard. Like you.”
    “You deny that you followed me here, yet you know that I’m ... cursed ... with wizardry. How is that?”
    A pair of feet hit the ground next to him. The boy had evidently been on top of a large rock, or up a tree.