Of Blood And Fire Ryan Cahill (nice books to read .txt) 📖

support his weight. By looking at him, I don’t think it will be too long. It appears that Valacian dragons grow faster than Epherian ones.”

Dann nodded. “And breathe fire?”

That same question had been lingering at the back of Calen’s mind for a while.

“Fire is a tricky one,” Therin said, stepping up beside Dann. “Some dragons find their fire as young as a week old, though it is barely a trickling flame at that stage. Others are nearly a year old when they find theirs, but it can pour forward like a cascading river, capable of turning plate armour into molten steel. There is a lot we don’t, and will never know about dragons.”

“Come,” Ihvon said, breaking the pensive silence. “We’d best be getting on. I am sure the king is eager to see you.”

It was only when they crossed the courtyard again that Calen truly realised how massive it was. Such a large, open space carved into the side of a mountain – it was incredible.

“It is a kill-box,” Ellisar remarked, as his eyes combed the wide-open spaces.

“That it is, elf,” Ihvon said matter-of-factly. “It was designed that way. Every archer on the keep walls would have a clear line of sight across this whole yard if it were ever breached. The Bolt Throwers on top of the keep’s towers have a wide range of motion, capable of aiming straight down into the yard. It is not somewhere that I would want to find myself, were I an enemy to the king.”

As they scaled the stairs leading up to the entrance of the keep, Calen appreciated the true size of the hulking wooden doors. He could not imagine that there was anything capable of busting them open. Just as he was lost in thought, there was a thunderous creaking as the two gigantic doors began to part.

The soldiers who flanked them picked up their pace, pulling ahead of the group. They formed an honour guard into the keep. Calen watched as each of the soldiers attempted not to get caught gawking at Valerys, who craned his neck upwards as if he were a show pony. They may have looked like soldiers of legend in their polished plate armour and streaming purple capes, but they were still only men – men who had never seen a dragon.

The inner hall was almost as breath-taking as the view from the walls. The ceilings were nearly forty feet high, held up by a sprawling network of colonnades, with swooping arches in between them – Purple and gold banners dangled from every second one. At the end of the long hall was a raised podium, atop which stood an ornately carved granite throne.

“Aeson Virandr,” the man who sat on the throne bellowed. His voice boomed through the wide-open hall.

Despite the fact that he was no more than six feet in height, and his frame was as wiry as Dann’s, Arthur Bryne oozed authority. He seemed to almost glide across the floor, a deep purple cloak draped around his shoulders. His greyish-black hair was streaked with wings of white on either side, and a simple crown of winding gold sat on his head. He was by all definitions a handsome man, even in what seemed to be, at the least, his fiftieth summer.

“Your Majesty,” Aeson said, dropping to one knee as the king approached. Erik and Dahlen followed Aeson’s lead, with Dann giving Calen an unsure look. The elves stood as they were.

“Get off your knee, you fool,” the king said. He reached out his arm and clasped Aeson’s forearm, in much the same way that Aeson had done to Thalanil, pulling him to his feet. “It is good to see you. When you left for Valacia, a part of me feared we would never set eyes on each other again. And your sons – my, how they have grown yet again!”

Arthur took it in turn to grab both Dahlen and Erik by the shoulders, admiring their growth like a fond uncle. Then the king’s eyes fell on Calen – and Valerys. He gazed at Valerys in disbelief, then looked back at Aeson, as if to confirm that his eyes were not deceiving him.

“By the gods… Not only did you retrieve an egg… but it is already hatched and bonded. How is that even…” Arthur turned his gaze to Calen, taking his arm in the same acknowledging grasp. “My boy, I am delighted to meet you. To say that I have waited a lifetime would be an understatement.”

There was something sincere in the way Arthur Bryne spoke. He didn’t break eye contact, and that smile never seemed to leave his face. The man was so charismatic that every word that came out of his mouth felt like it was plucked straight from his heart.

“And you,” he said, focusing solely on Valerys, “you are one of the most breath-taking creatures I have ever laid eyes on. His scales are a thing of beauty. And those eyes…” The king was in a world of his own as he fawned over Valerys, who was happy for the attention. “What is his name?”

“Valerys, Your Majesty.”

Arthur waved Calen away. “Enough with the ‘Your Majesty.’ Even if you were not a Draleid, I can’t stand all that formality. Valerys, you say? That is a very suitable name indeed.”

Arthur rose back to his full height.

“Okay, I will indulge myself later. For now, you all must be tired and hungry. We will show you to your chambers, and I will arrange for a feast. My son, Daymon, is around here somewhere as well. Come, come.”

The kiss of the setting sun felt warm on Calen’s back as it trickled in through the window. He was more than thankful for the warm bath he had just soaked in. His muscles felt as though they were brand new. He did not think he would ever get used to bathing in cold river water.

His weak smile was one of relief as much as it was satisfaction as