Quest Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 1)

Copyright © 2014 Revelations

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted or copied in any form or by any means, electric, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without written permission by the publisher.

Map completed by Sherry Kitts. Thank you for believing
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ISBN: 9780991245420

Chapter 1

The dragon’s roar shook the stones of the castle. Ren rolled, dodging the poisonous flames by a hair’s width. The dragon watched him rise and back away, its golden eyes gleaming with unprecedented rage. Deprived of all sustenance, the smell of Ren’s sweat and blood tantalized its senses. Long chains dragged the ground as it shuffled forward, still weary from days of drug-induced sleep.

Soldiers considered it sport to beat the dragon chosen for a dragon match with whips, flails, and other terrifying instruments. Ren hadn’t witnessed this dragon’s humiliation, but he saw the results. Blood marred its golden hide and a patch at its neck had been struck so many times two scales had fallen. Fresh blood still seeped from the wound, coating the creature’s underside and transforming its golden beauty into a hideous monstrosity.

Ren donned his faith like armor, but the light in his mind flickered incessantly, allowing doubts to infiltrate his confidence. His plans were crumbling like dry leaves in his fingers. The Maker had placed him on trial and declared him guilty. Ren had looked to the Maker’s laws all his life, but now even those laws had lost their power. When they had chained him, they hadn’t chained his body – they had chained his soul.

He had no sword, no shield, and no protection, but he wouldn’t harm the dragon even if he had the option. Dragons were beautiful, majestic creatures. Not many of them still existed. Destroying it would destroy a part of him.

The dragon stepped closer, releasing another mind-numbing roar. Ren judged the distance. Another step and he would take the one chance both he and the dragon had at life. It was a desperate attempt, for it would reveal an ability he had kept hidden since he was a child. Years before, the people coveted those who possessed the Druid power of calling. Now, it was never discussed, and those with it were shunned.

On the balcony, Valor of Crape, the new supreme ruler of Newlan, observed the match with devious eyes, a safe distance from the dragon’s rage. His flaming-red hair matched the fire of conviction in his gaze. Vos and Yov, the king’s twin advisors, stood behind him, gray advisor robes blurring their duality to one. Ista, Valor’s chancellor, rolled a red crystal around in her palm, piercing green eyes watching Ren’s every move. A circular pendant, marking the order of the Collective, hung around her neck. At first glance the delicate swirls of the metal appeared beautiful, but upon closer examination those delicate swirls became snakes, looped head to tail in deceptive grace.

The Collective’s supporters had multiplied in recent years. A religion that glorified physical pleasure and secular cravings, its hypnotic call had lured many into believing its future promise of magic. The Collective alleged a powerful prophet would soon arise who would bring magic back from the grave and bestow it to those loyal to the Collective’s call. Ren could do little as the apostate religion spread throughout the Lands, but when the Collective started persecuting the priests, his reaction had aroused the Collective’s fury.

People from all over the Lands surrounded the courtyard, deathly silent as the dragon inched closer. They had come for a ball. Instead, they had witnessed an insurrection. Most didn’t care whether Ren lived or died. He was just a name to them. Ren caught Ramie’s eye. Although the king of the Old Lands didn’t betray his thoughts, Ren could only hope his recent visit to Yor had won Ramie’s trust. If so, what he was about to do might spur Ramie to action.

Ren’s supporters stood apart from the rest. As Ren feared, Manda and Chris weren’t among them. Ren’s stomach twisted into knots. They had tried to warn him, but they had been too late. Ren didn’t know what Valor would do to them, but he feared for his friends. He sought the triplet advisors, trying to convey his concern, but if they understood his look Lazo, Jasta, and Justin gave no indication. They stood as still as death, emotionless faces pale and fatigued. Ren’s cousins, Paul and Sass of Ketes, stood beside the advisors, Sass’s golden locks a stark contrast to her brother’s dark complexion. Ren’s heart went out to her. His capture had left her questioning her fundamental beliefs. He wished he could reassure her he had no intention of dying that day, but Valor had allowed him no visitors. Quinton stood at the front of the throng, hand on the hilt of his sword, ready and willing to come to his aid. Ren shook his head, warning his captain to keep back.

Valor’s soldiers lingered across the clearing. Ren quickly found Valor’s captain. Bor was a burly man with a short growth of beard. The keys to the dragon’s shackles hung interwoven through his belt. His hand tapped them every few heartbeats, a crooked grin playing on his lips.

The dragon took another step forward. Ren tensed, ready. Just as the poisonous flames licked the air, Ren dropped to the ground, lifted his hand, and called to the power he had kept secret for over ten years. The keys at Bor’s belt swayed in response. Ren could feel their weight and shape. He could taste their cold metal and rusted ends. Before a breath had past, Bor’s belt lifted and broke. The keys took to the air, following Ren’s silent call.

Shock riveted across the crowd as the keys landed in Ren’s open palm. Ren regained his footing and dove beside the dragon’s right talon just as flames licked by him. Luckily, the dragon’s chains were heavy. The dragon couldn’t lift its poisonous talons or Ren would already be dead.

Ren rolled to his side and jammed the first key into the dragon’s shackles. The dragon heaved a gut-wrenching roar as the shackle imbedded deeper into already broken flesh, but the lock remained closed. Ren muttered an apology as he tried the second key. The lock twisted and snapped open. Ren rolled under the dragon’s belly, tearing the shackle free.

The air screamed as the dragon’s spiked tail whirred past him and crashed to the ground. Clumps of soil erupted from the earth and rained on the stunned crowd as Ren quickly crawled to the second talon. Before he could insert the first key, the shrill whistle came again. Ren melted to the ground as the spikes sailed through empty air just above his head. Careful to stay low, Ren quickly continued his search. When the final key turned the lock, he jerked on the chain and darted to the dragon’s hindquarters.

The dragon wailed a victory cry when it realized its front talons were free. As Ren began probing the third lock, he felt the air move in his direction. Risking a glance, Ren found the spiked tail poised beside him, black spikes gleaming wickedly in the morning sun. The dragon’s golden eyes watched him and the heat from its breath brushed past him, but no flames followed. Dragon’s weren’t dumb creatures. It knew what Ren had just done. But it remained leery. Its tail jerked with each twist of the key.

Over the roar of the crowd, Valor yelled for the dragonhunters to subdue the beast. Ren spun just in time to see a group of hunters rush forward and cock their tainted arrows, but the dragon had seen them as well. It heaved a blast of poisonous flames and coated the men with fire. Ren turned away as the men’s death cries stilled the crowd to silence.

Ren worked furiously. He only had heartbeats until Valor would send more troops. When the third shackle fell free, Ren darted to the last of the dragon’s restraints. Just as the key slipped into place, a powerful blow fell on his shoulder, knocking him paces away.

At first Ren thought the dragon’s spikes had caught him, but when he regained his footing he turned to look into Bor’s sienna eyes. Sword in hand, Valor’s captain grinned, but before Ren could react, Bor jerked forward, four black spikes protruding from his chest. Blood oozed from his open mouth. The dragon flicked its tail, tearing the wound open further, and tossed Bor’s lifeless body to the ground.

Ren quickly diverted his eyes and knelt beside the final chain. When the shackle snapped free the dragon rose to its full height, muscles quivering with effort, and unfurled its wings.

The crowd took a step back, ignoring Valor’s demands to subdue the beast and overtake the prisoner. The dragon bellowed in the dawn. Its call was immediately answered by another roar.

It didn’t take long for Ren to find the second dragon in the sky, slicing the sun’s rays into rivers of golden light. It was an older sire, where age had mellowed its golden scales to a grayish hue.

Screams echoed in the dawn as people scurried in all directions, desperate to flee the dragon’s wrath. Ren stood transfixed, watching the old sire dive closer, bellowing a warning to those who had captured one of its own, but before the flames could come, the golden dragon answered the sire’s call and took to the air.

The two dragons quickly rose higher, silhouetted by the rising sun. The courtyard, a heartbeat ago in melee, was now filled with silence. As the dragons broke into clear sky, Ren watched speechlessly as the old sire’s grayish coat glistened against the blue backdrop like stars at midnight.

Ren blinked in shock. He wasn’t looking at an old sire at all. He was looking at a silver dragon, a creature that had disappeared during the rains of the Dark Ages, over nine hundred years before.

A shiver crept up his spine as an old childhood legend came rushing back, and when the silver cast its gaze to the ground, its biting blue eyes validated Ren’s deepest fears.

Magic
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Ren turned to the balcony. The crowd cowered against the keep, staring over the ramparts at the dragons’ flight, save one. Ista stood where he had last seen her, rolling the red ball over and over in her palm.

“Dragon Tamer,” she whispered as she met his gaze and smiled.

- - -

Markum stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow. It had been very dry of late, and his footfalls hurled dusty clouds skyward, making it impossible to draw a pure breath. Squinting into the sun, his sharp hazel eyes found his destination: the Eye of the Dragon, named for a gap in the mountain’s face that looked similar to a dragon’s eye.

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