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

It was around a foot long and about half as much wide. Layers of overlapping scales washed over it from top to bottom. The bone-white tips of each scale reflected the blinding light from the fire. The white faded into jet-black at the base of each scale. It looked like an egg. An armoured egg.

Therin stared unashamedly now. The reflected light illuminated his eyes and caused his hair to shimmer, even beneath his hood. “Never in my days…” he whispered; his voice was barely audible amidst the gasps of awe from the others.

Aeson stared straight at Calen. There was something in his expression that unsettled Calen. It wasn’t malice or ill intentions, but almost… expectation. Calen shuffled uncomfortably under Aeson’s unwavering eye contact. He desperately wanted to break the silence. Fortunately, he had many questions. “What… what is it?”

“It is a dragon egg,” Therin said, startling Calen. He stepped closer to the group. He seemed to get taller. Light drew inward around him as the fire dimmed, making him seem almost ethereal. “More specifically, it is a dragon egg from Valacia, the northern icelands across the Antigan Ocean. We were never even sure that they existed. They were just legend.” There was a sense of awe in his voice. As he spoke, it seemed to Calen that even the insects in the undergrowth ceased their noisy night-time rituals just to hear his voice.

Therin hunkered down in front of Aeson, his hands hovering inches away from the egg. “Nomadic dragons of the Valacian icelands, with scales as white as snow and as black as the darkest night, able to grow as large as any dragon in Epheria. It is said that their connection to the Spark of magic is as raw and as old as the light from the sun. No elf, human, or giant has ever been bound to a Valacian dragon. I don’t believe one has ever even been seen in this part of the world – until now.” His eyes momentarily shifted from the egg to Aeson. A smile crept across his face as he clasped Aeson’s shoulders in his hands. “You did it, old friend. You actually did it.”

The sounds of the forest crept back into Calen’s ears, and the firelight once again filled the camp. Therin sat in front of Aeson and the egg, his legs splayed out in front of him. A beaming smile perched upon his face, his eyes now back on the shimmering black and white egg.

“How the hell does he do that?” Dann whispered into Calen’s ear. “Is it me, or did he actually glow a little?”

Calen nodded. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the egg. It was beautiful. Harsh – but beautiful.

“What good will one dragon do against the empire? They have the Dragonguard,” Rist said abruptly. “How is one dragon to stand against a dozen?”

Aeson sighed, running his hand along the outside of the egg. “It is not what one dragon can do, Rist. It is the symbol it creates. It is what it represents. Hope. Give people hope, and they will fight.” Rist’s expression twisted into a frown. Calen knew that face. It was the face that Rist pulled every time an answer didn’t satisfy him.

Draleid.

A shiver ran up Calen’s spine at the voice. It was an echo in the back of his mind. It wasn’t his own voice, but it was. He didn’t recognise it, but it was familiar. A whisper. He tried to ignore it.

Draleid.

The voice drowned out all the sounds around him. The rustle of the leaves, the incessant buzz of the insects, and the occasional nocturnal birdsong all ebbed and faded away. He tried desperately to snap himself back into the real world, but all he could focus on was the voice.

Draleid n’aldryr.

Draleid.

The voice grew louder, echoing throughout Calen’s mind. Every hair on his body stood on end. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It felt like seconds, but it was hard to tell. Everything around him seemed almost a blur.

Draleid.

“Draleid…”

“What did you say? Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Rist said apologetically. His eyes searched Calen’s. Calen didn’t even realise he had spoken out loud.

“Nothing. Sorry. Just lost in my own thoughts.” The fuzz in his head started to clear, the voice faded.

He looked around the group and found Aeson and Therin peering over at him, curiosity in their eyes. They looked away as he made eye contact. Did they hear me? What is happening?

The shimmering light from the egg disappeared as Aeson placed it back into the satchel. He pushed it to one side and stood up. “Okay, okay. Everybody quiet down. It is time we laid out our plans. In the morning, we ride for Camylin, then onward to Belduar.” He looked at the young men from The Glade, breathing in deeply as he did. “I think it best that you come with us.”

Dahlen tried to interject. “But—”

“This is not a debate, Dahlen. Now remain quiet.” Aeson turned his eyes expectantly towards Calen, Dann, and Rist.

Dahlen's face twisted into a scowl. Erik gave him a look as if to say, “Calm down.”

Rist was the first to respond. “The Glade is all we know. All we have ever known. How can we leave the people who raised us after what has just happened?”

“I’m afraid, young Master Rist, that staying is not an option. What I have just shown you is the reason why. The empire knows that we have it; that is why they followed us to Milltown. And they will kill you where you stand without so much as a conversation, and that is nobody’s fault but mine. I am sorry that you are involved in this. It was not my wish, but the gods intervened, and here we are.” Aeson’s eyes softened as he looked at Calen, whose gaze had not left the crackling fire. “Calen has lost a great deal today, more than any young man should. By returning, all you do is