Depositphotos

Lyra, the White Witch, has been taken to the Dragon Riders fortress by order of Conor, the Commander, and is free to roam the castle. She descends to the lowest levels and finds a nesting dragon…

The most beautiful dragon she’d ever seen was seated on a massive nest, beneath her an assortment of about twenty colorful eggs, ranging in size from one large enough to be nurturing a small horse, to one about a third the size. The dragon had been humming, a series of notes which resonated in Lyra’s bones but as soon as she arrived, the dragon’s head snapped in her direction and the sound stopped as she gave a warning hiss.

Alarmed, Lyra held her hands in front of her, palms up and bowed her head. “I mean no harm to your babies. I apologize for the intrusion.” Fearful the creature might attack her in instinctive defense of its eggs Lyra tried to look as non-threatening as possible. She had a vague memory of being told never to run from a predator.

A sound like silver bells trilled in her head and she knew the dragon was laughing but not in an unkind manner. You are welcome here, unexpected guest. I grow bored and you are a new face. You must be the witch who saved the Commander’s life.

“I helped him the other night,” Lyra said, not wanting to claim too much credit, unsure what the dragon might have heard.

Rehemnon told me all, especially when it came to his own cleverness in knowing where there was a healer to help his rider. That one’s ego has no bounds. Please, come closer and keep me company a bit. The sands are hot, for the benefit of the eggs, but not so much as to burn your feet through those shoes.

Unable to refuse such an invitation, Lyra stepped onto the sands and while she did indeed experience the heat through the soles of her borrowed shoes, it wasn’t too much to endure. She walked to the nest. “May I sit?” she asked, pointing to a portion of the nest away from the eggs. The branch looked sturdy enough to hold her.

You’re my guest. The dragon rose on the nest and flared out her wings as if to stretch tired muscles. She was pale lavender from nose to tip of the tail, with a creamy white belly, had aqua accents on the wings and her eyes were opalescent. I’m Maligemnon, by the way.

“My name is Lyra, in case Rehemnon forgot to mention it. How long until the clutch hatches?” Lyras asked, eyeing the splendid eggs and noticing several were rocking a bit, as if the inhabitants were impatient to be free and out in the world.

Soon, very soon. And then I shall be on my way home to Isthmarria, legendary home of the dragons. She stretched her wings again, nearly clipping Lyra with the leading edge  of one in the process. I long to fly.

“Won’t your babies need you?”

Laughter in her mind.

Dragon babies are born ready for life, not like the fluffy chicks you might raise at your cottage. They’ll have no need of me but will bond with the human who is to be their first rider. The destiny of my children lies with the dragon riders, not me. Although sometimes, one or even two may be born so feral they can’t bond with a human and in that case will fly to the sky through the skylight above and attempt their own journey to Isthmarria.

Trying to take all this information in, Lyra said, “I’ve never heard of this Isthmarria. How will they know the way if they were newly hatched?”

The knowledge is deep in our bones. The call home thrums in my head and my heart and I will fly straight and true until I find it. So will they, if they survive. Isthmarria is a long distance away, in the Lost Seas or so legend says. A dragon without a rider will feel the call until it becomes undeniable. She lowered her head and nudged an egg which had rocked perilously close to falling from the nest back into line. My last rider died a year ago but I was already pregnant so I stayed.

“Aren’t each dragon and rider bonded for life?” Lyra hastily reviewed the bits and pieces of lore she’d heard over the years about dragon riders. “Yet you’ve said several times now you had more than one rider?”

Dragons are immortal, or nearly so. We can be killed by the Shadow but not easily. Dragon riders live much longer than ordinary humans such as yourself, because of their close association and linkage with us, but nowhere near as long as a dragon’s lifespan. When a rider dies, we mourn and if there’s another human we can bond with, we do because it’s a special connection bringing much joy and happiness to dragon and rider. And the work of fighting the Shadow is satisfying to a dragon’s heart, being creatures of the Flame. But after Rider Fricesca died of old age, I was tired and there were none among the eligible humans I wished to partner. The dragon’s eyes sparkled. Perhaps if you’d been here then I might have reconsidered.

“I—I’m honored.” Lyra honestly couldn’t even imagine bonding with a dragon and becoming one of the people who rode into the skies to fight. The idea was beyond her wildest dreams.

Our hatching bond is always the most special, the first human pairing, but the others later in life are satisfying as well. I’m just as glad to be free to seek my own kind in Isthmarria now though. It’ll be an epic flight. Too far to do in one stint, I fear. But my kind can land on the seas, float on the waves and sleep or dive below the surface to catch fish—big fish, she added  with a  wink and a chuckle.

The journey sounded arduous and full of perils to Lyra, especially since this trip to the fortress was the furthest she’d ever been away from her village, except for the one disastrous excursion to meet the Searcher. “What makes this place you’re going to so special?”

Have you never heard the legend of how the dragon riders came to be? Maligemnon settled onto the nest for all the world like an old lady with juicy gossip to share and Lyra stifled a chuckle.

“I’d love to hear it,” she said truthfully.

Millenia ago the first Witch Queen of Azrimar summoned her bravest and best warriors and tasked them with a quest, to find the land of Isthmarria where dragons were said to dwell and bring home as many eggs as they could gather, to create a force powerful enough to defend the borders of the land from incursions by the Shadow and their creatures of the sky. The dragon shook herself from head to tail and sniffed. Nasty abominations. Fight in packs. The Witch Queen gave her heroes each a ship and promised whoever returned with eggs would receive rich rewards. Many of the ships were lost at sea. Some turned back. Mutinies occurred on one or two. Four of the warriors reached the beaches of Isthmarria and the three men and one woman agreed to band together. They appealed to the goddess Viviamara, pleading the need to combat the Shadow, and she gave them one week to find the dragon nests and take a few eggs from each. That’s why dragons here are all different colors, because the original eggs were obtained from a variety of dragon clans. When the quartet came home with their treasure, having survived many challenges and trials, the Witch Queen gave them each a corner of the land to guard and rich rewards and rights to claim tribute from the inhabitants in each quadrant. She used her magic to create the four Fortresses and those four and their knights and retainers became the first Dragon Riders. Or so the legend says. She shrugged her massive shoulder and laughed. It might even all be true.

“Thank you for sharing the tale with me,” Lyra said. “I want to understand the whole situation here as much as I can. Knowing these things helps.”

Maligemnon blinked and yawned, her breath sulfurous and her fangs awe inspiring. She stretched her forelegs and rose, turning in a circle twice before settling again. I need a nap.

CONOR (DRAGONS OF CLADDARE) by Veronica Scott

Lyra is a White Witch in the distant countryside of the land. She tends her herbs and does healing and small spells for the nearby village and dreams of a different life. When the legendary dragon riders of Claddare fly overhead she watches them, longing to soar the skies just once. She wishes for one of them to swoop down and carry her away from her humdrum existence to their Fortress but knows fairy tales aren’t meant to come true.

Conor is the Commander of the Western Fortress Dragon Riders. When he’s severely injured in an assassination attempt far from home, his dragon brings him to the cottage of the nearest healer. Lyra cares for him while his dragon goes to fetch help. When Conor’s men come to rescue him, he takes Lyra with him. The attraction between them is undeniable.

Once at the Fortress Lyra isn’t sure why Conor insisted she had to be there. Life in the dragon riders’ home isn’t exactly the fairy tale she imagined and there are plots and problems on every side. She’s falling in love with her patient but he gives her conflicting signals about his feelings for her. Conor’s never before contemplated asking a woman to be his one and only, to take the title of Commander’s Lady and bond with him and his dragon. His hesitation to declare his love leaves an opening for agents of the Shadow to sweep in and threaten Lyra. Will Conor place everything on the line to save the woman he’s come to realize he can’t live without?

Find out in Conor (Dragons of Claddare). This 47K word novel takes place in my established fantasy world of Claddare and is a standalone with an HEA.

Amazon     Apple Books      Kobo      NOOK      GooglePlay