Dragonborn by Toby Forward

Professor, “or it will drive all the spiders away from the College, and then where would we be?”
    Just where I said,
thought Sam.
Infested with flies.
    â€œBut even a beginner at the College would be able to tell me how to do that,” the Professor carried on. “I really don’t see how we could think of taking you on here. I’m sorry.”
    Sam’s dream of the freedom of the falcon melted away. He was alone and without friends or money. That was more of a prison than a freedom.
    â€œWhere shall I go, then?” he asked.
    â€œI’m afraid,” said the Professor, “that I really don’t know.” He smiled happily and jangled. “I would offer you a job in the College, but, as you have seen …” His smile was broader than ever.
    Sam nodded again. Even the kitchen staff were old students here, every one of them a wizard.
    â€œSorry, sorry.” He jumped and jangled to his feet and started to show Sam out.
    â€œI don’t do spells and potions,” said Sam.
    â€œQuite so,” said Frosty. “All the roffle’s fault. He must have misunderstood.”
    â€œI do magic,” said Sam, standing up.
    â€œRabbits out of hats? Card tricks? Wonderful stuff for children’s parties, but not for us, I’m afraid.” Frastfil gave him another encouraging smile. It was the smiles that had begun to annoy Samand make him want to demonstrate what he could do, just to show this man.
    â€œProper magic,” said Sam. “Not tricks.”
    Frastfil was eager to get rid of Sam and waved him to the door. Sam stood firm where he was.
    â€œI’ll show you.”
    â€œWe really must go. I have to, um, that is, uh …”
    Sam folded his arms.
    â€œAre you ordering me to show you some magic?” he asked. “Really?”
    Frastfil gave him a silly smirk.
    â€œYes,” he agreed. “I’m ordering you to.”
    Sam clapped his hands. The door slammed shut, wrenching itself away from Frastfil’s hand. Frastfil found himself swept back into the room and forced around the silly desk that his whatever had owned and into the armchair. The chair spun around and around and around, and lifted into the air, with Frosty holding on in terror of falling out. All the books jumped off the shelves and formed a cloud of paper and boards around Frosty’s head, spinning in the opposite direction from him, like a dust whirl in hot summer.
    â€œPut me down. Put me down!”
    Sam dropped the chair to within an inch of the floor, jolting Professor Frastfil but not hurting him. Still it spun. He turned the books into crows and had them break out of the circle and dart at the Professor, jabbing their orange beaks at him, cawing and flapping and diving till he was dizzier from dodging than he was fromspinning. Sam clapped his hands again, and the crows became books once again and roosted on the shelves. The chair came to rest exactly where it had begun, and Frosty sat, gasping for breath and fumbling for a handkerchief to wipe his forehead.
    â€œI’ll go, then,” said Sam, picking up his bag and opening the door.
    â€œWait! I think we can find you a place.”

Just to be in the air was enough
    for Starback, for now. It was his rest, his food, and his strength. He rode the currents and reflected.
    The danger was still there for Sam. The wizards were after him.
    He folded his wings, lowered his head, and arrowed to the ground, pulling out of the dive at the last moment, and swooped up again.
    Khazib, the dark one with the fast horse—he should be first. He would be fastest. He must be stopped.
    It would be easy enough to kill the wizard, for a dragon. For a Green and Blue. That would stop him.
    Except that Khazib was a Flaxfield wizard. He had served his apprenticeship under the best there was and might be difficult to kill. Starback had never killed yet, and he didn’t want to start. He didn’t want to