The Dragon Guard by Emily Drake Page A

know when he finally heard his dad’s key in the door if being late was good, bad, or worse. Shoving his desk chair away, he rolled across his bedroom floor, neck craned. His dad walked in with his regular briefcase, and Trent couldn’t tell just from looking at him. He stood and went to the threshold of his bedroom. “Well?”
    His father looked at him. “Well. I got three months’ severance pay, which is really quite good, under the circumstances. But they’re closed, and it’s done.” He just stood there for a moment, a rather dazed expression on his face. He added in a low voice, “I worked there for a long time. I met your mother there. Now they’re both gone.”
    Trent got up and went to him, putting his arms around his dad. “It happens,” he said, trying not to feel as scared as his father looked. “You needed a job change anyway! Everyone does, sometimes.”
    His father gripped his shoulder. “Yes, sometimes they do. I have the retirement funds, of course, although that’s for . . . well, retirement. And you’ve your college money put away.”
    â€œThat,” said Trent, “is yours if you need it.”
    His father shook his head. “We should be just fine. I’ve got a lot of skills, and they gave me some excellent recommendations.”
    Trent managed a lopsided grin. “You’re not the guy who put them out of business, then?”
    â€œLet’s hope not.” His father looked around the apartment and into the tiny kitchen. “I think I can manage pizza tonight. It’s too late to cook, and I think I might be famished.”
    â€œAnd I think I can manage to find a coupon or two. We need to save money!” Trent dashed off to the corner of the room where newspapers and old mail stacked up. He wasn’t sure if he had any appetite for pizza, but his dad needed cheering up, and they could always bring home the leftovers. Pizza for breakfast was always nearly as good as the night before. As he rustled through, looking for the coupons he’d seen days ago, he added, “And after dinner, I’ll let you get on-line to look that résumé over.”
    â€œI appreciate that.”
    Trent found what he was looking for, and held the flyer up triumphantly. “And I appreciate pizza .”
    His dad smiled briefly, and then they were headed out the door. Sometimes Fridays were even worse than Thursdays.
    Â 
    Friday night, Jason got word that the soccer championship being held the following Sunday afternoon might not have his coach on the sidelines. He’d broken his arm in a car accident and might or might not be able to be up and about, even with a sling on. The assistant coach promised to fill in and told everyone not to worry, but against a top notch team like they were playing, every little bump felt like a major mountain. Jason knew it was his team that had to face the other team, but not having the coach there would make a difference, no doubt about it. It was rather like Magicking, with Tomaz gone and no one training him right now and his not being able to tell anyone or having a backup. There were times when there was no substitute for the real thing.
    He sat back on his bed, book across his knees, and looked at his porthole window, which framed the moon just perfectly and would do so for about thirty minutes. Then, as the world turned, the moon’s position would change and he would eventually lose sight of it from his window. It was almost like the glimpses he had caught of Tomaz in his crystal once or twice this week. Neither time had the Magicker seemed to be aware of him, and both times, he had been enveloped in a stormy looking mist, his hands up, and his mouth opened as if chanting, with a pack of wolfjackals sulking at his booted feet, as if his chant and strength alone held them at bay.
    Did he really see what was happening? Jason didn’t know. Was he supposed to go and