Read dragon archives 05 - forever a dragon Online
Authors: linda k hopkins
Forever a Dragon
Book V of The Dragon Archives
Linda K. Hopkins
Published by Linda K. Hopkins
Kindle Edition
Copyright 201
6
Linda K. Hopkins
Kindle Edition, License Notes
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Table of Contents
Other Books by Linda K. Hopkins
List of Main Characters
Lleland Seaton:
Master of Philosophy; father was killed by a dragon when he was six
Anabel Seaton:
Lleland’s mother
Edith
: Lleland’s sister
Alan:
Edith’s husband
Aaron Drake:
Master of the dragons; powerful dragon whose father was killed by humans; married to Keira
Keira Drake:
Aaron’s human wife
Zachary (Zach) Drake:
Aaron and Keira’s son; Lydia’s twin brother and a student in Lleland’s philosophy class
Lydia Drake:
Aaron and Keira’s daughter, and Zach’s twin sister
Anna Brant:
Keira’s sister
Max Brant:
A member of Aaron’s clan who helped Aaron defeat Jack; married to Anna
Jack:
A black dragon that terrorized Civitas until being killed by Aaron
Zachary Drake:
Aaron’s father. Not to be confused with Zach, Aaron’s son
Eleanor Drake:
Aaron’s mother
Richard Carver:
Keira and Anna’s father
Syngen Gail:
King Terran’s ambassador to Civitas; kidnapped Keira during the war against Terran; was raised by a dragon father
Edmund Hobbes
: A young man who expected to marry Keira; kidnapped Anna before she was rescued by Aaron; was killed by the dragon
Matthew Hobbes:
Edmund’s younger brother
Thomas:
Aaron’s steward
Favian Drake:
Aaron’s cousin
Cathryn Drake:
Favian’s wife
Will Drake:
Cathryn and Favian’s son
Chapter 1
Lleland Seaton, Master of Philosophy, closed his book and placed it atop the pile of papers on his desk. Leaning back in his chair, he stared out through the window. The glass was uneven, distorting the view of the gardens beyond which were damp from the steady drizzle that had fallen all morning. The rain had finally stopped, and reaching over his desk, Lleland lifted the latch and pushed the window open, allowing the fresh, rain-clean air to flow in and drive away the stale mustiness of his chamber. A breeze stirred his papers, and a shaft of light, breaking through the clouds, shimmered on the gold lettering of the book on the desk: A
RISTOTELIS
D
E
C
AELO:
On the Heavens, by Aristotle
. Lleland gathered his papers and rose to his feet. It was early afternoon, and the first class of the semester was about to begin. His students would already be gathered to hear Aristotle’s work read aloud and the lecture that would follow. Grabbing his cape and cap, Lleland headed out the door.
As he walked, Lleland glanced over his list of students. He already knew most of them: fine young men who had proven their commitment to the rigorous training offered at Kings College. It was a prestigious university, and many vied for one of the coveted spots, although only the most conscientious were awarded a place. The students in Lleland’s class had already received their Bachelor’s degree in Arts, and were about to embark on the next stage of training to earn their Master’s, as Lleland himself had done some years before. Out of the ten students, two were new: Thomas Bell and Zachary Drake. They must have already earned their Bachelors elsewhere: St Mary’s, perhaps, or Eastbridge. The name Drake seemed familiar, and Lleland turned it over in his mind as he walked down the stairs to the ground floor.
“
Bonum mane, Magister
.”
“
Bonum mane
,” Lleland muttered absent-mindedly to the student on the stairs. Latin was the only language allowed within the college precincts, whether it be in classrooms, the dining hall, or chambers, and an infraction could earn the guilty party a fine, or even an expulsion. He reached the bottom of the stairs, still searching his memory for the name Drake, and then put the matter out of his mind as he followed the passage towards the classroom.
No sound came from behind the door as Lleland approached, and he smiled to himself. Clearly, the students were heeding the Dean’s admonishment made that morning in the opening assembly to behave like “young ladies, with dignity and propriety, refraining from laughter, murmurs and hissing at their Masters.” Lleland stepped into the room and glanced around. Two rows of narrow wooden benches faced the small desk at the front of the room. The walls were bare, except for the window that overlooked the college gardens. It was closed, of course, since the sounds of the outside world might prove too distracting for serious scholarship.
The students, young men ranging in age from eighteen to twenty, turned their attention to Lleland as he surveyed them. His gaze slid over those he recognized, but stopped on the two newcomers for a moment to take their measure. The first man glanced up, his eyebrows lifting as he took in Lleland’s form. With his youthful appearance and large, muscular stature, Lleland did not fit the mould of a typical scholar, and he was used to the expressions of surprise. He turned to the second newcomer. Light-brown eyes, almost golden in color, met Lleland’s, and he stiffened as their gazes locked. There was something unsettling in this student’s gaze, and Lleland had the uncanny feeling that he was the one being measured. Turning away, he stalked to his desk. “
State nomen tuum
.”
One by one the students rose and gave their names as Lleland marked them against his list: Henry Baxter; Aubrey Ferrier; Simon Mortimer; Zachary Drake. Drake was the student with the golden eyes, and Lleland watched as he stood. He was tall, taller even than Lleland, who usually topped his students and colleagues by a few inches. Drake was also lean, but Lleland knew that only a fool would think that indicated a lack of strength. The man exuded power and confidence. Lleland frowned and returned his attention to his list as the students continued to state their names.
The class ended two hours later, and Lleland rushed from the room to a meeting in the Dean’s office, where he spent the rest of the afternoon. It was only after supper had been served to students and staff at six o’clock that Lleland finally had a moment to reflect on his class. He had sat next to Rutherford, Master of Divinity, during the meal, and asked Rutherford what he knew of the new students. Rutherford only knew them by name, but he had revealed one important piece of information. Drake’s father had contributed a large sum of money to the college to ensure that his son was given a private chamber. This was interesting news, since as a matter of policy all students were expected to share with at least one other student, so that “they did not become accustomed to private solitude and reflection, but rather had the opportunity at all times to share their insights and learnings.”
So the Drakes were a wealthy family but jealous of their privacy, Lleland mused as he sat in his chamber later that night, his daybook open on his desk. He turned the name over in his mind again. Drake. There was definitely something familiar about it – something that played around the edges of his memory, but what, he could not quite capture. Ah, well. It would come to him in due course. He turned his attention back to his diary and completed his notes for the day.
A few hours had passed by the time Lleland made his way to his bed, the light from the candle casting shifting shadows along the wall. His chambers consisted of two small rooms – the first with a desk and chair beneath the window, a small shelf stacked with books, and a bench in the corner; while the second had a narrow bed, a table with a ewer and basin, and a chest where his clothes were stored. A small three-legged stool completed the furnishings. He placed the candle on the floor, a few inches away from the wooden bed. The mattress was stuffed with straw, and a single spark would be enough to make it go up in flames. A thick fur covered the mattress, over which was spread a quilt, made for him by his mother, and as he lay down, he said a short prayer for her health and well-being, before snuffing out the light and closing his eyes.