James & the Dragon
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JAMES & THE DRAGON
Vol. 1 of the Farloft Chronicles
by
Theresa Snyder
COPYRIGHT 1996 and 2013 by Theresa Snyder
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or part without the written permission from the author. Exceptions made to reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.
Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com
Table of Contents
ALSO BY THERESA SNYDER
The Dragon
The Wizard
The Dragon & The Wizard
James
Laval Faces the Plague
James Sinks
Farloft Hears a Cry
Laval sees a Change
The Dragon’s Lair
James and the Dragon Become Friends
James Works for His Supper
James - The Blacksmith
The Tale of the Zonguldak Ruby
Wizard’s Brew
The Way Home
Farloft Worries
James Arrives Home
Farloft Flies for Help
The Wizard & the Dragon Meet Again
The Wizard’s Magic
Touch & Go
The Boy, the Dragon & the Wizard
Yet Another Brew
The Fate of Farloft
Author’s Note
ALSO BY THERESA SNYDER
The Farloft Chronicles
(For Middle School Readers)
James & the Dragon - Vol. 1
Kingdom of the Last Dragon - Vol. 2
Dragon Deception - Vol. 3
Too Many Dragons - Vol. 4
Three and a Half Dragons - Vol. 5
The Star Traveler Series
(Young Adult Sci-fi)
The Helavite War - Vol. 1
The Heirs of Henu - Vol. 2
Old Friends/New Enemies - Vol. 3
The Malefactors - Vol. 4
Cataclysm - Vol. 5
A Mear Sleight of Hand - Vol. 5
Learn more at www.TheresaSnyder.Blogspot.com
-THE DRAGON-
Farloft, the dragon, had been living in this region for centuries. Once a friend of man, as the years passed he had become shunned. Now he lived quietly in his mountain top retreat - an observer rather than a participant in the lives of humans.
Now, Farloft sat on a rocky perch above the entrance to his lair, his piercing golden eyes following the approaching wizard.
The cold morning air had no effect on him - dragons felt neither hot nor cold. His observation of Laval began early this morning. He first caught sight of the wizard through the fog on the valley floor as he emerged from the forest below out onto the plain. The human would need an hour or so to wind his way up the path to the cave.
Farloft flexed his iridescent green wings in the morning sun as it caressed the mountain top, his wing span as large as any sail on the ships at sea. His massive claws bit at the stone of the ledge to keep him from involuntarily taking flight. He wanted to hunt this morning, but with the wizard’s pending arrival his stomach would have to wait.
Farloft’s last experience with Laval was a most unpleasant memory. The dragon did not intend to leave his lair unguarded. He gave only a momentary thought to flying down to meet the wizard, than thought better of it.
Best to sit and wait.
Best he let the wizard come to him.
Best to be on your own ground when dealing with someone that could not be trusted.
- THE WIZARD -
Laval rode steadily on in the bitter cold. Only an escaped lock of his long, raven black hair and his crooked nose could be seen from the depths of his crimson colored robes. He was a man on a mission.
The King always kept a “master wizard,” as his father and his grandfather before him. No one could remember how Laval came to be at court or how long he had been there. It was as if the kingdom had never been without his powerful magic. The wizard was the King’s most trusted adviser. His magic struck fear in those that were his enemies, and awe in those few that were his friends.
The road took Laval through the sparse countryside. Nothing had grown well this past year, not crops or children. The young and the elderly were the first to die of the plague. The villagers were hit the hardest. The King closed the castle to visitors at the first sign of plague and therefore kept the ruling class free of the disease. But, beyond the walls of the castle, the land and its people were barren and cold.
As Laval approached yet another village he noticed the vacant, hungry look of the people as they peered out their doors or looked up from what duties could not be ignored that brought them out in the bitter cold. He heard the sound of the mucus filled coughs that accompanied those who were bound to die from this horrible plague. He reflexively pulled his cowl up higher around his neck to over his mouth and nose. No sense taking chances. There were thatched roof houses in this village with no signs of life - no smoke from the chimneys - no coughing - only silence.
Laval steadily urged his mount forward. A peasant rose up from nowhere and grabbed his leg above the leather of his boot.
“Somethin’ for the children? A crust of bread?” he begged, as he walked beside the wizard’s steed.
Laval knew better than to give into the man. If he gave to this poor wretch, he would be mobbed by all who saw he had anything to give. He pushed the man away with his booted foot, almost knocking him to the ground even though the push was light. The man was that weak
“I have nothing to give.” He spurred his horse and rode on through the village at a trot.
Laval looked back. He could remember when that place was full of laughing children with round faces. Now there were only the sights and sounds of death. This past spring and summer during the long months the plague ravaged the land, he worked all his considerable magic to stop the spread of the disease. But, it was no use. The people continued to die.
Laval’s mission was to obtain a portion of the wing from Farloft the dragon. Combining the magic within that wing with his own considerable wizard’s magic, he was sure he could create a potion that would stop the ravaging disease. Dragon’s wings were known for their healing power.
Even with Laval’s considerable skills, it took over a week to locate the dragon’s lair. The last time he saw the dragon was years ago when he was wizard to the former King. Dragon and wizard exchanged heated words over an error of judgment on Laval’s part, he was sure Farloft would remember. Dragons possessed excellent memories. That past transgression would make it difficult to convince the dragon to give up the needed portion of his wing.
Laval rode on for the rest of the day. He fought his way through the dense forest at the edge of the kingdom and emerged below the western ridge where the dragon’s lair perched on the highest peak. It would take him another hour, a least, to reach Farloft. The wizard pulled his heavy robe tighter around his lean frame. He hunched lower in his saddle against the bitter wind through the valley he must cross to the mountain heights.
- THE DRAGON AND THE WIZARD -
Not far from where a young peasant boy named James worked, this unique meeting between dragon and wizard was taking place - unique not because of its participants, but because it took place at all.
For neither the dragon nor the wizard liked one another. The dragon thought the wizard was sneaky and underhanded.
Which he was.
The wizard found the dragon pompous and arrogant.
Which he was.
But, it must be said in defense of the dragon, that it was difficult for the dragon not to act like a ‘know it all.’ After all he had lived over a thousand years and had seen just about all there was to see.
“What I ask is
not so much,” the wizard Laval stated. He shifted uncomfortably on the rock where he sat. It was cold in the dragon’s outer cave, there being no fire.
“Oh no, not much,” Farloft said sarcastically. He eyed the wizard with suspicion. “If I give you a piece of my wing it will only leave me flightless for weeks and at the mercy of any knight wielding a sword or a villager with a pitchfork. And how am I to hunt if I cannot fly?” Farloft asked.
“No one has ever found this place but me. I will see that you are well cared for from the King’s herds until you are healed.”
“And whose word do I have on this agreement?” Farloft snapped. “I am hunted and shunned by humans. It is not like the old days when we dragons were revered.” Farloft’s brow furrowed in disapproval. “If I believed you could concoct a cure for the plague with the magic from it... if I believed you would cure the people and relieve their suffering.... I might consider it, but I am not so sure.” Laval had lied to him in the past. “I am afraid you will fail and the villagers will continue to die and what will become of me? Left to starve, unable to fly for weeks. Do you know how hungry a dragon can get in even one week?” Farloft asked defiantly. “Well, let me tell you. Hungry enough to eat a wizard and I would not eat a ‘peasant,’ much less a ‘wizard,’ unless they were the last thing edible on earth.” Farloft snorted in disdain, his tail thrashing in irritation back and forth across the rock floor of the cave.
A silence fell between the two. The second lid of Farloft’s golden eyes started to sneak closed. The interview was over; Laval had failed unless he could think of some other strategy.
“Well,” Laval said idly. “In any case, most likely what I have read is wrong. I can’t imagine that a dragon’s wing has such power. It is probably just talk. Old tales passed from storytellers over the years - distorted in their