Dragon Mage (The First Dragon Rider Book 3)

by Ava Richardson

  It distressed me, that the normal Middle Kingdomers would think this, although, with everything that they had been through, I couldn’t blame them. And so,

  on the fourth day, I assembled the Dragon Riders.

  “We have a new charge,” I announced. “We must fly out across the land, carrying simple supplies and assist any villagers or Prince Vincent’s fleeing troops who need it. We must offer them protection,” I advised the assembled Dragon Riders whose weary, dirt-smeared faces were no longer those of freshly recruited students.

  “If they need food, offer them provisions. If they are lost, use your flight to guide them to the nearest safe town. If they are under threat of brigands and bandits, defend them. If they need medical help, then direct them here.” We still had a lot of medical supplies from when the Draconis Order used to train healers and scribes, and I was determined that tradition, at least, would continue. “You will bear urgent messages, you will clear the roads if the storms have knocked trees across the path. You will make your camp by the hamlets and villages that have no leader, until they can appoint their own spokespeople,” I advised.

  It was a simple plan, and one I modelled on my own father’s writings. Like him, I did not believe that the warriors of the clan should only protect the clan lands, but also keep the clans safe as they conducted their own affairs. Extended out to the entire Middle Kingdom, I foresaw a time when the Dragon Riders could protect and keep the towns and villages as they elected mayors and captains.

  “The people are our clan now,” I said to Char one day, causing her to smile.

  But there were still strange and troubling questions. Where had the Darkening cloud gone? Was its destruction really a matter so simple that when Ansall died, his shadow army dissipated? And what were we to make of the rumors telling of shadows in the northern mountains? Were these stories mere superstition or not?

  Then, too, was the discovery, when the fire had eventually burnt itself out, of Zaxx’s blackened and burnt bones at the foot of the academy gates. It came as a relief to know he was truly gone, but we did not discover any sign of the body of the Abbot Ansall, nor his magical staff. “Incinerated completely in the fires,” Char said grimly, and I hoped she was right.

  What we did find, however, right in the center of bonfire, and the very hottest place of the fire, was a blackened crater with three strange crystal-like orbs. Were these something that Ansall had been carrying with him when he fell? Were they the secret of his strange powers of invincibility and darkness? Or were they some strange remnant of a dragon-organ, fused together by magic and flame? Or perhaps, they were little more than the glowing earthstars that sometimes cropped up naturally in the ground, glowing, light-catching stones, somehow uncovered by the inferno that was the dying Zaxx?

  “I have no idea what they are,” Maxal Ganna had said doubtfully, turning them over to Dorf Lesser. My friend and roommate hefted them in his hands, each no bigger than a duck egg, blackened with soot, but shiny and smooth underneath. Dorf had become taller and broader in our battles, but he still had his boyish way about him.

  “Pretty,” he shrugged. “Maybe we should keep a hold of them, in case they mean something….”

  “No,” Char said vehemently. “They might be like the dragon bones. Corrupt.”

  Dorf suddenly grimaced, dropping the stones to the floor and looking to wash his hands.

  “I agree with Char,” Jodreth said in measured tones. “These dragon stones don’t feel natural, but I also think it might be unwise to just throw them away. What if they bring back some sort of evil against us, in later times?” I was surprised when those assembled; Char, Dorf, Maxal, Jodreth, all turned to regard me for my opinion.

  “Separate them,” I said. It seemed the only reasonable solution. I looked to Char to see if it was acceptable to her and she nodded. “Keep one here at the academy, and Jodreth and Maxal can study it. But the other two? I say we give them to two dragons, with the express orders to take them far away and never reveal their location.”

  “Nothing is ever lost forever,” Jodreth murmured, but an angry look from Char silenced him. It was settled. Whatever the real truth was behind these strange dragon stones, we might never know, but perhaps future generations would manage to decipher them.

  The last – and greatest – change that occurred was the arrival of the princes, Prince Lander of the North, father to Char Nefrette, and Prince Griffith of the South, father to Terence. They came, marching into the Middle Kingdom not a week from each other, and made their way to the makeshift camps at the base of Mount Hammal, left by Prince Vincent’s forces. They were met by our Dragon Riders first on the road, and warned that we would brook no war here in the Middle Kingdom, but, amazingly, it appeared that they did not come to carve up their brother’s kingdom for themselves.

  “What use do I have of a soft, cold land like this?” laughed Prince Griffith when Lila Penn forewent all attempts at diplomacy and asked, the instant he arrived, what his intentions might be.

  Later, as we hosted as grand a banquet as we could manage with our own stores and Nan’s ingenious incorporation of the food and wine brought by the princes’ own entourages, there was a chance to talk at depth about what was to happen next to the Dragon Academy – and to the Middle Kingdom.

  “If the people of the Middle Kingdom wish to get out of this dangerous place and head south to mine, I won’t stop them!” Prince Griffith said cheerily, and Char had to stop me from growling at him by kicking at my shins under the table.

  “And you, Father, why bring your armies here?” Char asked of Prince Lander.

  The Northlander ruler had looked old— both he and Griffith seemed to have aged since last we’d seen them, as it happened. It was as if once the Abbot Ansall and his foul magic was exorcised from the realm, then so too was the unnatural longevity that had been given to the royal line.

  “Your brother, Wurgan,” Prince Lander said stiffly, indicating the red-haired, red-bearded giant who commanded the prince’s armies, “and your mother have made me see that the Middle Kingdom needs allies, not another tyrant. And I have enough problems of my own in the north, as the wild mountain dragons appear to be tripling in numbers this year…”

  Despite the fact that he claimed to have come to help us, it was the Dragon Rider who agreed to give Prince Lander aid in his struggle against the ferociously dangerous shadow-blue wild dragons that lived in the northern wilds. Maybe there was even a chance that we could befriend them, eventually, although I doubted it.

  “And what of the Middle Kingdom?” It was Jodreth who surprised me by saying, standing up amidst the banquet whilst we were discussing heavy matters. “I am sure that Neill, Char, everyone here is pleased to have help in rebuilding the Dragon Academy, but we need to think beyond these walls to the people of the Middle Kingdom. Who shall rule them?”

  There was silence from the table, and my heart sank. I was dreading this difficult part of the discussion. I imagined that one of the warlords or lesser nobles would put their name forward.

  “We have been discussing this, my brother and I,” said Prince Griffith, standing up to raise a glass. “And we have come to a settlement, as neither he nor I want to govern this troublesome province.” A rumble of disagreement came from the assembled Middle Kingdomers, and Prince Griffith spread his hands wide in a placating gesture and grinned at them. “I do beg your pardon, but you have to agree that no end of trouble has come from here in the last few decades!”

  He was right at that at least, I thought, and the crowd seemed mollified by the inarguable truth of his observation. Although worried what the Southern Prince would suggest next, my eyes sought out the only two candidates I would pledge myself behind: Char or Terence.

  “And we have determined who here has the skills to help govern the Middle Kingdom, if they agree,” Prince Griffith announced.

  I’ll fight to the death for either of them, I thought as I looked at my friends, before realizing that actually, I would f
ight to the death for anyone here at the academy. In fact, I would do more than that – I would live for them as well.

  Prince Griffith turned to me, to raise his wine glass. “Neill, son of Malos Torvald. You were raised by the Chosen Warden of the East, and you rose to be Protector of the Dragon Crater. You have the ear of the dragons here, and you have managed to train the Dragon Riders, the only force capable of holding the Middle Kingdom together at the moment. You clearly have the skills. You, along with Char Nefrette, daughter of Prince Lander, have—”

  “And the Lady Red,” Char said, nodding to the distant, but unseen presence of Paxala somewhere outside.

  “And your dragon, of course,” Prince Griffith continued. “You three are our choice as Wardens of the Middle Kingdom, in perpetuity, until such a time as your heirs – if they come–are of age. Then, there will be another Great Council meeting, and another choice appropriate for that time will be selected. Do you accept your duty?” The Southern Prince’s voice was stern as he offered me the wine cup.

  All eyes in the tent were on me, and a silent hush filled the room. Could I do it? I asked myself. No, I immediately, and instinctively thought. I was not my father, I was not Malos Torvald. I couldn’t do this alone. But, underneath the table, Char’s hand found mine, and I knew then that if I said yes, I would not have to face the task alone.

  “I’ll stand at your side, Neill Torvald,” Char breathed as she looked into my eyes.

  I couldn’t do this alone. But I knew that I could do anything if I had this woman with me.

  “Neill should be who he is meant to be,” Pax’s soft whisper of a voice sounded in the back of my mind. “Warden. Protector. Guardian. And Char too.”

  “Think of all the good you can do,” Char whispered to me, a half smile starting to curl her lips.

  I did. I thought of my father’s writings on strategy, tactics and leadership. It had been those lessons that I had tried to impart, in what ways that I could, to help defend the Dragon Academy. But my father always had his hands tied with the rules of Prince Vincent, I realized. And he had never managed to send out Dragon Riders to help others as we have. My father had made me think like a good soldier, but Char and the dragons had made me become a good man.

  “Think of all the good we can do.” I smiled at her, suddenly awkward as I said, “If, that is, you will consent to govern this troublesome kingdom with me…”

  “Of course I will, Torvald. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” Char smiled back at me. My heart lifted as if I were dragon-flying, and I stood up, with Char standing at my side and our hands held into the air above our heads. In front and around me were all of our friends, everyone who had ever stood for us and beside us: Dorf, Jodreth, Maxal, Lila, Sigrid, Terence – and they were all beaming with their support.

  “I accept,” I said, taking the offered chalice and drinking a deep draught before passing it to Char to do the same to the wild applause of all those gathered.

  End of Dragon Mage

  The First Dragon Rider Book Three

  Learn more about the kingdom of Torvald and its dragon riders in Ava’s epic fantasy series, Return of the Darkening Trilogy. Keep reading for an exclusive extract from book one, Dragon Trials.

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  BLURB

  High-born Agathea Flamma intends to bring honor to her family by following in her brothers’ footsteps and taking her rightful place as a Dragon Rider. With her only other option being marriage, Thea will not accept failure. She’s not thrilled at her awkward, scruffy partner, Seb, but their dragon has chosen, and now the unlikely duo must learn to work as a team.

  Seventeen-year-old Sebastian has long been ashamed of his drunken father and poor upbringing, but then he’s chosen to train as a Dragon Rider at the prestigious Dragon Academy. Thrust into a world where he doesn’t fit in, Seb finds a connection with his dragon that is even more powerful than he imagined. Soon, he’s doing all he can to succeed and not embarrass his new partner, Thea.

  When Seb hears rumors that an old danger is re-emerging, he and Thea begin to investigate. Armed only with their determination and the dragon they both ride, Thea and Seb may be the only defence against the Darkening that threatens to sweep over the land. Together, they will have to learn to work together to save their kingdom…or die trying.

  Get your copy of Dragon Trials from

  www.AvaRichardsonBooks.com

  EXCERPT

  Every fifth year, the skies over the city of Torvald darken as large shadows swoop over the city, dark wingbeats blowing open window shutters and their bird-like cries disturbing babes and sleeping animals alike.

  The city folk of Torvald are prepared for this ritual however, as the great Dragon Horns—the long brass instruments stationed along the top towers of the dragon enclosure—are blown on those mornings. Farmers and market folk rush to guide their skittish cattle out of sight, whilst children flock to the narrow cobbled streets or crowd atop the flat rooftops.

  Choosing Day is a time of great celebration, excitement and anticipation for Torvald. It is the time that the great enclosure is unbarred and the young dragonets are released into the sky to choose their riders from amongst the humans below. It is a day that could forever change your fortunes; if you are brave and lucky enough. It is a day that heroes are made, and the future of the realm is secured.

  “Dobbett, no! Get down from there right now.” Dobbett was a land-pig, although she looked somewhere between a short-snouted dog and a white fluffy cushion. She grunted nervously as she turned around and around atop the table, whimpering and grunting.

  She always got like this. I wasn’t very old the last time that Choosing Day came around; I must have been about thirteen or fourteen or so, but I remember how my little pet ran around my rooms, knocking everything off stands or dismantling shelves. I couldn’t blame her: land-pigs are the natural food of dragons, and if she even caught a whiff of one, she went into a panic.

  “No one’s going to eat you, silly,” I said to her in a stern voice, making sure I picked her up gently and set her down on the floor where her tiny claws immediately clacked on the tiles as she scampered under my bed.

  Good Grief! I found myself smiling at her antics, despite myself. Dobbett was a welcome relief to the butterflies I was feeling in my stomach.

  Today was Choosing Day, and that meant that today would be my last chance. If I wasn’t picked now, then by the time another five years rolled by, Father would probably have married me off to some annoying, terribly fat merchant or nobleman.

  Memories of the prince’s last Winter Ball flashed through my mind, filling me at once with the most curious mixture of disgust and hopelessness. The prince, and all the royal family, had been there of course, and my older brothers too—Reynalt and Ryan—looking splendid in their dragon scale jerkins.

  They managed to do it, I thought. They got their own dragon. My two older brothers were chosen almost as soon as they were old enough to sit on the saddle—even though it is always the dragon itself that does the choosing.

  “As close as egg and mother, is a Flamma to a dragon,” I mouthed the well-known Torvald saying desperately hoping it would prove true. I wanted to declare: I am Agathea Flamma, or more properly, Lady Agathea Flamma. Our household had sired Dragon Riders for the last hundred years, and the rooms of Flamma Hall were filled with the statues, busts and paintings of my great-uncles and grandfathers and great-great grandfathers who rode the mighty drakes into battle in defense of the city and the realm.

  My brothers were chosen, why not me? Everyone had expecte
d them to be chosen. No one expected me to be.

  I am a girl. They say I am better suited to marrying well, running an estate, raising little Dragon Riders all of my own… “Ugh!” I snorted in disgust, throwing open the patio doors to the balcony of the tower and walking out into the fresh morning air.

  The last of the Dragon Horns just finished their mournful cry. I could already hear cries and screams of excitement as the shapes flew out of Mount Hammal, the dragon enclosure far over the mountain from here. They looked so beautiful. Long, sinuous necks, powerful; each one a different colour. Today there are green, blue, black—even a red.

  Get your copy of Dragon Trials from

  www.AvaRichardsonBooks.com