Dragon Prince 03 - Sunrunner's Fire by Melanie Rawn

looked his son’s age as he turned his face skyward, rapt and ecstatic.
    “Sionell!”
    Turning, she saw Pol ride up on one of his golden horses. He reined in, eyes brilliant, and gestured. She grabbed his hand and used his booted foot as a stirrup to swing up behind his saddle.
    “Faster!” she urged as he kicked the mare to a gallop, and laughed into the wind.
    Some of the dragons were already at play along the lakeshore. Others, hungry after a long flight, pounced on the terrified sheep kept penned for their refreshment. A three-year-old gray female with gorgeous black underwings swept down in a controlled glide, plucked up a woolly lump with one hind foot, snapped its neck with a twist of front talons, and landed neatly on the opposite shore. She snarled at a sibling who attempted to steal her lunch and settled down to devour the sheep with dainty greed. The entire operation took less than twenty heartbeats.
    Sionell slid to the ground before Pol brought the mare to a full halt. He was right beside her after slapping the horse back toward the stables—having no wish to see one of his prizes become dragon fodder.
    “Start counting!” Sionell cried. “My mother will kill us if we don’t!”
    “Five russet hatchlings, seven green-bronze, ten black—Ell, just look at them! As alike as if they’d shared the same egg!”
    “Four grays, three more black—I don’t see the gray-blue sire who was at Skybowl. He must’ve died in mating battle—but there’s the black one, and the worse for wear! How does he fly with that scab on his wing?”
    “Where’s Elisel? Can you see her?”
    They searched the lake and the skies, but could find no trace of Sioned’s russet dragon.
    “She has to be here,” Sionell fretted.
    “Maybe she went to Skybowl.” Pol tried to be soothing, but his face betrayed his worry.
    Sioned ran up, winded. In silence she scanned the shore, biting her lip. At last she whispered, “She’s not here.”
    If anything had happened to Elisel—the only dragon any of the Sunrunners had been able to talk to. . . . But Elisel might have been one of the females who died each mating year. There were insufficient caves for all the she-dragons; if they did not mate and lay their eggs, they died.
    Sionell glanced up at Pol, seeing the same worry in his eyes. He muttered, “We have to coax them back to Rivenrock. We have to tell them it’s safe there.”
    “How?” she asked bleakly. “If we’ve lost Elisel, then—” She broke off, mindful of Sioned nearby.
    “Maybe Maarken and Hollis just chose the wrong dragons to touch,” he mused.
    “Trying it had them unconscious for a whole afternoon,” she reminded him. His lips twisted as he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing as he focused on a single dragon. She knew what he was going to do as surely as if they’d thought it at the same time—and didn’t say a word to stop him.
    The others had arrived at the lake by now, occupied with the count or speculating on Elisel’s absence or simply staring awestruck at the dragons. Only Sionell saw Pol take a deep breath to steady himself, fix his gaze on a large blue-gray three-year-old with silvery underwings, and close his eyes.
    The young dragon stood with wings spread out to dry after his swim. Well-grown for his age, as an adult he would be a sire of formidable size. His head with its long face and huge eyes turned toward Pol, then away, then shook as if insects irritated him. Shuffling to one side, he bumped into another youngling who growled at him.
    Sionell held her breath, willing Pol to succeed. How could he not? Nothing had ever been denied him; the world and all its dragons were his by right.
    But not today.
    The dragon shrieked, head lashing toward the sky. Pol cried out at the same time, a terrible groan that shuddered his whole frame. Sionell flung her arms around him to keep him upright, calling his name.
    “Pol! You idiot!” Rohan gathered him from her and lowered him