Prologue

              

 

 

      THE BEAUTIFUL RED DRAGON FLEW under a thunderhead and glided for a time as several crows got out of her way. In the distance, there was a rainbow over a black tower, but she had no time for that. Salanth had beautiful green eyes that could light up the darkest cave and usually a bubbly personality. Today was different. Salanth was searching for her mate who had now been missing for three days. She feared the worst but hoped for the best as she slid majestically through the air, carefully scrutinizing the sky and the ground below. A sense of urgency now. It would rain soon but so far not a drop. Rolling hills changed to the desert and then back again; the land had been transformed by wizards long ago.

    Salanth put her head up and screeched; she listened for a reply, but none came. Many times Novalt had responded to her cries but not this time. She was many leagues from her den; Salanth wasn’t sure where to look next, both frustrating and disheartening. She wasn’t sure what to think but the longer she went without seeing him, the more she feared for his safety because dragons were not at the top of the food chain as some believed. There was one beast Salanth knew of that could kill a dragon, but tried hard not to think about it.

    Salanth sighed as she soared over the rolling green hills, her stomach growled from its emptiness like a bear’s mighty roar.  Some had suggested that Novalt had run off with another female, but she didn’t believe it for a second. They had been planning an adventure south just before he vanished and Novalt had been out gathering food for the trip, giant melons. “Novalt, where are you!”

    Salanth spotted something; it resembled dragon bones in the canopy of several trees, and it looked like a wing partially eaten. It couldn’t be Novalt, could it? He would never fly in this area unless pursued by a Cruncher Dragon, but no one had seen one in almost a year now.

    She hovered over the tree and studied the bones, her wings creating enough air flow to move the branches. Several branches near the top of the tree had caught the skull, and she could see scratches directly into its head. Apparently, a Cruncher had killed this dragon, but no way to tell who it was or how long it had been there. They could eat through dragon scales even though they were almost as hard as steel. Salanth didn’t think it was Novalt but had he suffered the same fate? How awful if he just never returned and she would never know what happened. Her grandfather went missing from an excursion, and everyone assumed that a Cruncher ate him, but they were never sure what happened.

    And then Salanth saw it. The silver medallion that had been passed down to Novalt from his father hanging in a tree below the skull. Novalt’s medallion! Oh no, no, no, no! Tears slid down her face dropping into the greenery below. Salanth was devastated, and she never felt so alone even though she had lots of family. What was she going to do now?

    A bleak thundercloud released a bolt of lightning, and then out of it came a gray beast as dark a shade as the cloud. The Cruncher was from Barothia. It was a male with spikes growing out of its head, shoulders, and tail. A nasty dragon killer. A Cruncher!

    Salanth noticed it at the last moment; it wings silent as it attacked; she didn’t even have time to release fire.  It grabbed her in its sharp teeth biting her in two, tearing and swallowing pieces of her bottom part as her head tumbled and knocked Novalt’s skull free, and hit the ground with a thump.

   

 

 

 

One

 

 

 

 

    STONE WAS BANGING AWAY IN THE FORGE, ching, ching, chiiing! Several people were watching his every move, his muscles bulging from under his leather covering. He placed the fiery sword in the trough and watched the steam rise. It was a new sword for Marcus as he had lost the other. Although he didn’t do it often, he had a talent for swordmaking, and Marcus thought there was even a little magic to it because no one else could create a sword so quickly nor to such a degree of perfection. Sometimes small amounts of magic were passed down from father to son, and Stone’s father also had the gift though he sure wouldn’t admit it.

    Although Marcus was a sorcerer he liked to carry around a sword, and he was going to cast a spell on this one to make it almost weightless. At one time Marcus had wanted to be a knight just like Stone but fate had had other things in mind for the prince. He was a Tar-Cranian wizard now, and no sorcerer was higher than a Tar-Cranian. Some said that such a wizard had the talents of every type of sorcerer combined. Unfortunately, wizardry was a complicated business, and Marcus still had much to learn. And he still walked in his sleep. Casting spells in his sleep was unsettling, to say the least, and anyone who saw Marcus wandering around at night ran from him. No one wanted to endure physical transformation, especially into some inanimate object or worse.

    Things were progressing in his life; he had finally built his castle and was hard at work exploring it. And Raina had not yet told him that she was also a wizard, a battle sorcerer. But it was eating at her so she knew she would tell him soon. Raina had tripped and accidentally knocked down a tree that morning.

    “I’ll kill you, you bastard!”

    One sword struck another. Stone saw the goings-on and ran. “Not again!”

    Two knights were battling one another, and it was serious as both were going for the kill. Likely over a woman, Stone thought because it usually was. He grabbed Darcon and sent him tumbling to the ground just as Tollster was about to strike a fatal blow. “What’s got into you two!”

    “Darcond stole my woman!”

    Stone shook his head to show his displeasure. “A woman chooses her mate and cannot be stolen. If she went with him, it was her choice! Women are not cattle. If you must fight it will be with these!” Stone showed them his fist. “And not to the death.”

    Tollster was tempted to say They’re not? But decided against it.

    Darcon came up behind Tollster and with a single punch rendered him unconscious. “And we have a winner!”

    Stone shook his head. “You’ve won nothing. Now you’ll need to sleep with one eye open. He won’t let this go nor would I.”

    Darcon checked on Tollster to see if he was okay and received a punch in the face for his trouble.

    Marcus and Raina exited from a cloud on the back of Daganth, touching down with grace as the dragon spread his wings. Daganth continued to call the sorcerer his father and perhaps he always would, much to the chagrin of his mother, Ryxa. The idea that a human could father a dragon was ludicrous, but the dragon insisted that he was.  

    Stone called to Marcus. “Your new sword is ready. Come and try it.”

    Marcus and Raina ran to Stone, and the sorcerer was impressed with his new sword. “You do wonderful work Stone. I should have such talent. Thank you so much. Look, Raina; it even has a ruby!”

    “I have never seen a sword so beautiful,” said Raina. “Here, let me heft it.” She took the sword, and it felt wonderful in her hand, almost magical, and then she gave it back to Marcus.

    “Stone, if I cast a spell on it to make it as light as a feather do you think it would be okay?”

    “Suit yourself, my Prince. But you best get accustomed to it before you fight with it. A sword as light as a feather wouldn’t have much feel to it. And might you lose it from its sheath without you even knowing?”

    “He has a point, Marcus.”

    “Yes, I suppose he does. Maybe I’ll just make it a little lighter.” Marcus took his wand and looked at the side of it and words appeared. Shall we make it half weight? “Yes, I think that would be best.” He waved his wand over the weapon and it attained a bluish glow which then faded. Now his sword weighed half as much as it did.