Two races, one blood. . . .
Sarah Lind thinks her biggest problem is picking a college. Sheâs wrong.
After falling through a crack in reality, Sarah finds herself trapped in the perilous Six Realms, home to the dramĂĄ: a race of human-dragon shapeshifters. To find her way home, she will have to trust their Heir, Koriben Sunfilledâa prince handsome enough to put her in a different kind of peril.
Koriben thinks his biggest problem is hunting for a cure for his father, the King. Heâs wrong.
An ancient evil known as the Devourer is coming. Its slavesâthe Consumedâare wreaking havoc in the Six Realms and Koribenâs people are in growing danger. But so too is Sarah, the shy Earthren who has awoken in Koribenâs landâand awoken something inside him.
If the Six Realms and Earth are to survive, the star-crossed strangers will have to embrace their destinyâbefore the Devourer and its armies destroy everything they hold dear. . . .
Journey to another world in a hope-filled and sweepingly romantic young adult fantasy adventure from an unmissable new voice, for fans of Brandon Sanderson, C. S. Lewisâs Narnia series, and Lauren Robert's Powerless Trilogy.
Two races, one blood. . . .
Sarah Lind thinks her biggest problem is picking a college. Sheâs wrong.
After falling through a crack in reality, Sarah finds herself trapped in the perilous Six Realms, home to the dramĂĄ: a race of human-dragon shapeshifters. To find her way home, she will have to trust their Heir, Koriben Sunfilledâa prince handsome enough to put her in a different kind of peril.
Koriben thinks his biggest problem is hunting for a cure for his father, the King. Heâs wrong.
An ancient evil known as the Devourer is coming. Its slavesâthe Consumedâare wreaking havoc in the Six Realms and Koribenâs people are in growing danger. But so too is Sarah, the shy Earthren who has awoken in Koribenâs landâand awoken something inside him.
If the Six Realms and Earth are to survive, the star-crossed strangers will have to embrace their destinyâbefore the Devourer and its armies destroy everything they hold dear. . . .
Journey to another world in a hope-filled and sweepingly romantic young adult fantasy adventure from an unmissable new voice, for fans of Brandon Sanderson, C. S. Lewisâs Narnia series, and Lauren Robert's Powerless Trilogy.
Sarah
On the sweltering July evening that would change my life forever, winding up as a blood sacrifice was not on my to-do list.
Trust me, I was running through the list in my head as I waded through our Pennsylvanian neighborhood creek looking for my baby sisterâs beloved macaroni-and-bead necklace, which she had dropped when Rachel and I were watching the littles play in the stream earlier.
When it came time to bring them inside to clean up and get dinner ready, Abby was still desperately looking for it, and she threw an absolute hissy fit about leaving it behind, saying something about the âtree ladyâ (whoever the heck that was) saying it was important. So I, being the wuss that I was, told her I would look for it, and Rachel took them back inside.
Wading through a creek looking for a five-year-oldâs necklace, half the components of which could be disintegrating in that very moment, had most certainly not been on that to-do list either, and it was now looking like it would be a long night. I still had dinner to make, though with any luck, Rachel was starting that for me. Though I doubted she would do the dishes afterward; finish, sort, and fold the laundry; clean up the messes in the kitchen from lunch and the forthcoming dinner; and put the littles to bed.
My phone in my back pocket vibrated. I pulled out the old model with the cracked screen and looked at the caller ID. And groaned.
I hit the answer button and snapped, âWhat?â
Rachel said, âSheesh, no need to bite on first hello.â
âOh, I think I do. Let me guess. Youâre not starting dinner. Youâre about to ask me if you can ditch me to go off to the mall or the movies with that latest boyfriend of yours.â
âFirst off, ouch. Thereâs no need to put it so harshly. Iâm not âditchingâ you. After all, I brought the littles back and cleaned them up, didnât I? Now theyâre happily running amokâsand and mud freeâthrough the house for you. Second, weâre going to the rock-climbing place: far more B.A. Third, heâs not my boyfriend.â
âYet,â I said, rolling my eyes even though my older sister couldnât see.
There wasnât a boy alive who had resisted Rachel once she set her smoky eye on them.
âTrue,â Rachel said smugly. Then her voice got sweet. âCome on, Sarah. Itâs my night off. I have only so many nights off left before the semester starts again.â
So do I, I thought with a growing pit of dread in my stomach.
Except this would be my first semester of college, and in a very uncharacteristic move for me, I hadnât fully decided where I was going, and the time to make that final decision was running out.
Oh, Iâd gotten acceptances aplenty. But the gratification had worn off quickly in the face of being forced to choose my destiny. The hardest choice of all: stay local, like Rachel hadâŠor leave. Pack my bags, get on a plane or in an even more beat-up car than the one Rachel and I shared now, and leave it all behind.
To play it safe, I accepted the offer of a local four-year university by their May deadline, but doubts still plagued me.
Staying local had all the usual advantages of lower tuition and living at home, but living at home had its own costs. Particularly, the needs of my large, busy family and two hectic, in-demand parents. I couldnât see those costs decreasing.
If anything, they had increased with Mom and Dad taking on more responsibility at work; Michael moved out and married, with his own toddler to worry about now; and Rachel taking on less and less for her own, less noble reasons. And if anything had been drilled into me about college by now, it was that it would be hard, harder than high school, even though Iâd taken almost all advanced classes by my senior year. I was only just now, in the middle of summer, catching my breath. I couldnât imagine trying to juggle a part-time job, an even harder course load, and increasing family demands on my time and energy.
As I waded through that creek, I was tempted more than ever to just go. Even Mom and Dad were encouraging about that, saying it might not be too late for me to change my mind, or to transfer somewhere else after my first year. They said they would rebalance somehow to cover the gaping hole of responsibility I would leave behind. They were proud of the schools Iâd gotten into. Not Ivy League (I hadnât even dared mess with those), but good schools. Better than Rachel had managed, who hadnât even bothered with applications and just gone to the community college, and seemed perfectly content to stay there, an undeclared major, even though sheâd just finished her second year.
The most aggravating part of Rachelâs blasĂ© attitude about her education was that I knew she would get whatever job she finally set her mind on anyway. Because she was Rachel.
Who, right now, was working her magic on me.
âPleeeeease, Sarah? My most amazing, brilliant, faithful sister? Iâll buy you a book if youâll take over tonight. Isnât that author you like coming out with a new one soon?â
âAlright, fine!â I huffed, caving. Not just because of the bribeâI could never seem to say no to her, or to any family member, and I hated that.
I bent over to fish around for something shiny, but it just turned out to be a mica-laced rock, smelling of mud and minerals.
âGo. Leave me and have fun. But could you ask David if he could start dinner?â
My options for backup meal preparers were limited tonight, seeing as Mom was out of town at a conference and Dad was teaching night classes this summer. Even Lizzy was at dance practice. Which was why Rachel was supposed to be helping me with the littles. That left David, the next oldest kid after me.
âItâs not his night to cook,â Rachel said. âYou know heâllââ
âJust tell him to put a pizza in or something. You can put a pizza in or something.â
âWe donât have any left. I just checked.â
Figures. She had probably hoped it would add sweetness to the abandonment deal if she could at least throw something in the oven.
I gritted my teeth. âCould you please nicely ask David if he could at least start a meal for me? Iâd take peanut butter and jelly at this point. The littles will be hungry soon.â
âHeâs playing that new video game he just got. You know heâll justââ
âRachel, I am wading through mud right now, looking for Abbyâs silly necklace. Do you want to be doing this instead, or do you want to brave Davidâs petty wrath to deliver a message and then be on your merry way?â
âFine,â she huffed. âIâll deliver the message. But you know what youâre going to find when you get back, and thatâs zilch.â
I know, I thought as I squeezed my eyes shut. I know.
A breeze started blowing hard through the trees. I opened my eyes and looked up in surprise, but the sky was still clear, not a cloud in sight. Still, that wind felt nice, drying the sweat that the humid summer evening had worked up over my body and made my clothes cling unpleasantly.
Rachelâs voice brightened at my silence, which she correctly interpreted as giving up on even the David plan. âThanks, Sarah. Iâll make this up to you, promise.â
She would, somehow. She wasnât a monster. It was justâŠI was done. So done.
âYeah, whatever,â I said, anger dying in the face of that exhaustion. âGo have fun.â
âWill do! Love you, byeeeee.â
The call disconnected.
I sighed. Before I put the phone away, I set a five-minute timer.
I had to be able to look Abby in her adorable, watery eyes and tell her I had tried, and tried hard. So I would give this fruitless search another good five minutesâŠand then I would go in and take care of my family. Like I always did.
That was one of the hardest parts about the thought of leaving. Mom and Dad said they would manage without me. ButâŠhow?
I was too self-aware not to admit that there was an even deeper fear tangled up in all the others. My family was my world. We had moved so much that weâd had to bond together, just to even have friends, have normalcy, have something that always stayed the same, something you could count on. Their bonds around me were as needed as they were becoming suffocating. I wasnât sure what would happen if I cut myself adrift. Just the thought filled me with terror, both for them and for me.
Without my familyâŠwithout who I was to themâŠwho was I?
That wind was kicking up now, making the tops of the trees sway. The scent it carried was crisp, much more like the cold clarity of winter than the heavy richness of summer. Dead leaves, stirred up from the mulch of the forest floor, were spinning in the eddies. The sunhat hanging by its cord around my neck flapped wildly at my back, my tiny side purse swung like a pendulum, and my sneakers sitting on the bank fell over, getting sand on the socks Iâd stuffed inside them.
Worried now, I glanced at the sky again as I waded over to and grabbed the sneakers, but the sky was still clear. I hadnât heard of a tornado ever hitting this area, but then, weâd only lived here a year, and there was a first time for everything. Still, if this was a tornado in the making, shouldnât there be some clouds?
The wind was now officially cold. I had thought that my cooling skin was just my sweat evaporating, but now I was certain that with every passing second, the wind was plunging in temperature. Goosebumps were breaking out everywhere over all my exposed skinâwhich was a lot of skin, considering I was in a white tee and jean shorts.
Timer or not, I decided my search was now at an end. Iâd done my best, but the necklace was gone for good, and I would just have to endure Abbyâs disappointment. It was far better for me to be with them to keep them safe from any pending natural disaster than for Abby to have it back.
Just when I was about to step out of the stream and onto the sandy bankâŠit froze.
Instantly.
All the way down to its half-foot depth. I knew that all too well, because my feet were encased in ice. I couldnât budge them.
Iâd heard of snap freezes before, but thisâŠwas something else. Chills ran down my spine, and that wasnât just from the frigid prison my feet were now in.
Vainly, I tried to jerk them free, but all I did was throw myself dangerously off balance. If I had fallen in that moment, I would have probably broken both my ankles. Horribly.
It was almost fortunate that in that very moment, I felt a sinking crack beneath me, as if my weight had broken through more fragile ice beneath, even though that was impossible. There was nothing below me but muddy, sandy dirt.⊠Right?
Then I fell.
Straight down.
Into darkness.
***
My head hurt when I woke up, and my mouth tasted like dirt. As I blinked my eyes open, the world still spun.
But something about that world was off.
That giant, squat, living-granite face with the blue fires for eyes leaning over me, for instance.
âHoly cow!â I shrieked, flinching away from it, no matter how much the movement sent further stabs of pain through my skull.
I braced my arms in front of me, uselessly, because the stoney, moss-and-vine covered ogre thing just grinned, grabbed one of those arms, andânearly wrenching my arm out of its socketâlifted me up so that my feet dangled at least a yard off the ground.
A frantic glance around showed me that I was surrounded by these stoney, unfriendly looking, ten-foot giants. Behind them, a thick, luscious jungle towered around me from all sides. Unseen creatures hooted and hollered, exotic birds flitted through the thick canopy, enormous purple trombone-like flowers dripped glowing gold liquid, and the air I was gasping in was rich, humid, and cloying.
Assuming all this was real, that I hadnât hit my head or wasnât dead or hallucinating, IâŠwas not in Kansas anymore. I wasnât even in Pennsylvania anymore. And these were no friendly munchkins who greeted me.
They spoke to each other in grinding, stoney voices that made me flinch. Now, I was trying to not be rock-ist or anything, but I found it difficult to imagine that their hard expressions, blazing eyes, and harsh tones wereâŠbenevolent.
âEr, would you mind putting me down, please?â I asked, with little hope. But I had to try. My arm was in agony, and I was afraid that at any moment, the socket would pop.
My phoneâs timer went off.
The ogre holding me shook me, gargling some rock nonsense, and I cried out in pain. With my other hand, I frantically pulled out the phone to turn off the timer.
Before I could even hit the stop button, another ogre grabbed the phone from meâscraping my fingers painfully as it did soâand crushed it in its fist. I stared as perhaps my last hope for salvation spilled from the ogreâs hand as so many useless shards of glass, plastic, and electronics.
Sure, maybe the phone wouldnât even work here. It wasnât even a nice phone; Iâd been saving up for a new one for a while now. But it was the disheartening principle of the thing.
The only good thing in that moment, if you could call it that, was that my captor used its other hand to grab me by the waist instead, pinning my other arm and letting go of the one it had been holding, probably seconds from doing serious damage. I still hissed in pain as that abused arm fell limply against its stone fingers.
So, I had one arm free now. To defend myself against half a dozen ten-foot stone ogres. Fantastic.
As I thought through my options, the ogres seemed to be verbally doing the same. Not long after, they came to a consensus and began marching through the trees. With me in tow. Helpless, as far as I was aware, to do anything about that.
My captorsâ giant fingers around me were literally rock solid, and when I tried wiggling, it grunted something nasty sounding at me and tightened its grip. I froze, not daring to push it to tighten further. I was already finding it hard to breathe. If I made it mad, I was sure it could crush me nearly as easily as its comrade had my phone.
After only a minute or two of marching, we broke through the jungle and came into an enormous clearing, larger than a football field. The sun shone down with mocking innocence on its dirt, moss, and rock expanse and on the crude stone table in the center, which the ogres were heading straight for.
Wait, I thought with dawning horror.
Was I going to be for dinner? Were they not even going to have the decency to kill and cook me first? I couldnât see any sign of a fire or other element of meal preparation in sight. Just that enormous stone table, made with four boulders for legs and a large, flat stone for an uneven, unlevel surface.
Anxiety at my situation skyrocketed to downright terror. My heart felt like it was going to explode, my body sweated from more than just the sweltering jungle heat. I was almost surprised the ogre didnât drop me from how slick I was becoming.
How had it all come to this? How had I plunged straight from my neighborhood creek in Pennsylvania, where my worst problem was the fact that I had so many chores to do, Iâd be doing them until I collapsed into bed? I took it back, I took it all back. I would do the dishes from now until eternity if I would just wake up.
But the nightmare didnât end. In fact, it only got worse.
The ogre dumped me on the table. Vertical, so I fell on my back with an impact that sent a blaze of pain through my already sensitive head, stunning me. That was fine with the ogres, because the others began tying me down, wrapping thick vines around me and under the table again and again, until I couldnât budge, even though I soon recovered enough to try.
What did they need to do this for? Werenât they just going to tear me limb from limb? Wrapping my entire body except my head and upper chest would make that rather difficult. Not that I was complaining about a change in plans, mind you.âŠ
Until I saw one of them bring out a knife.
It was the epitome of a stone-age weapon: a large, flat rock that had been chiseled into a narrowing, pointed tip. But its shape and the way the ogre gripped its âhandleâ were unmistakable.
So was the way the others all gathered around, almost ceremoniously. And started chanting, repeating the same grinding, nails-on-chalkboard words as the others, in unison.
Just as quickly as before, my mind flipped the script.
Now, I was new here. I couldnât understand what they were saying. But from the way the biggest ogre was holding the knife over my torso with both rocky hands.âŠ
I was almost one-hundred-percent certain that this was a sacrifice.
If Iâd ever taken the chance to contemplate how my life would end, I would have never pictured this.
The ogre raised its serrated stone dagger with both hands above my chest and finished its garbling chanting with one final triumphant proclamation, so loudly that I was caught in the spray of spittle. If they hadnât tied me on my back to the crude altar (not table), I might have rolled over to puke from revulsion. But my last lingering instincts of self-preservation and the frozen apathy of fear combined to keep the burning bile from rising further than my throat.
Besides, my mind was a little more occupied by the terrifying silence that ensued as the ogre paused ominously and its gathered comrades waited with bated breath and literally burning eyes for the dagger to plunge into my heart.
My very last thought was of bewildered loss. Who is going to tuck Abby in tonight?
And then.âŠ
A roar.
A deafening, ears-ringing, bone-chilling, muscle-jellifying roar that I could never, in my deepest, darkest nightmares have ever imagined. It was like a Tyrannosaurus rex had stolen a megaphone and somehow held it up to its mouth with its tiny arm and gave the loudest, most bestial bellow of its life.
For one tenth of a second, the ogres froze. Their blue flame-eyes barely had time to widen and turn purple at the edges before IT was upon us.
I saw only a blur of a maw so big it filled my entire field of vision and teeth longer than baseball batsâcurved, ivory, deadly canine baseball batsâbefore the knife-wielding ogre priest was gone with a screech as grating as steel nails scraping a granite boulder. From the way the screech rapidly faded, I assumed it had been tossed and was flying away from us at what would have been a lethal height and velocity for any human.
I couldnât ponder the ogre priestâs fate beyond that. I was much more occupied with my own. Because not a second later, I was staring at the scaly gold underside of the Thing.
Which was at least a story above me, and so massive I could see nothing else. All I got was the impression of a horizontal mass with four giant oak-sized legs from the curvature of its giant musculature, which looked taut and powerfully lean in proportion to its size. As it turned, I glimpsed a long, supple tail as thick as a small car and as devastating as a battering ram, and once I saw outspread, shimmering webbed wings as large as galleon sails.
Screeches began filling the air as the Thing agilely twisted its girth above me. If Iâd been capable of more thought than abject terror, I might have noted the oddity of how it never moved from its position over me, no matter how it had to turn, shift, or twist to counter whatever insane resistance the ogres were putting up for losing their prize to the much bigger and deadlier predator.
If I had noticed, I would have assumed that the Thing was determined to keep me for itself. Which would have led me to question why a single human female would have been appealing enough to steal and then guard so determinedly. To a Thing so big, every step caused a tremor, I would have been just a morsel.
But my brain wasnât capable of such detached philosophizing now. The only thought it had the capacity to support was thinking of how to get away.
I yanked at my bonds, expecting to feel their implacable resistance once again. But there was none. My arms and legs thrashed freely across the rough stone. I had been so frozen with terror that I hadnât even realized that at some point between the roar and now, the ropes had simplyâŠfallen off me, crude but tight knots undone.
That oddity was enough to register in my brain, but I didnât take the time to guess why. I pushed myself up so quickly my head spun.
Just at that moment, I realized the screeching had stopped, and as I looked around, I saw the last of the ogres were fleeing into the woods. The Thing above me growled, a rumbling sound I felt as much as heard, being just beneath the enormous chest where it originated. Then it roared after them in a threat universally understood at the primordial level what it would do to them if they dared come back.
Then it stepped back and away from me with a care that I might have noted in different circumstances. Instead, all I saw was the blessedly clear and scale-free sky and shadowy trees ahead.
I didnât even think. I was already pushing off the altar and hitting the ground feet-first and sprinting before conscious thought caught up to me, heedless of how my bare feet bled from running on that rocky, mossy ground. I just ran.
Then I heard an astonishing thing.
Iâd heard many astonishing things since stumbling into this nightmare. Guttural garbles coming from stone-like ogres with flames for eyes. Also, creepy chanting and terrified screeching from the same. That roar, which I would never, ever forget even if I lived to be a hundred. I would hear it as I lay dying, as if the sound had infiltrated every cell in my body to welcome me to the end.
Perhaps this new sound was so remarkable because it should have been unremarkable, and it was the stark familiarity in an unfamiliar and monstrous world that made it seem like the most unbelievable thing I had heard thus far.
It was a human shout.
I didnât recognize the male voice. I didnât understand the word he shouted. Even so, it was so astonishing that it pierced my haze of panic and made me stumble in my headlong sprint. For one split second, I hesitated.
Was another human about to be the Thingâs lunch? Or had he come to help me escape? Because escape was the only possibility for a human now, unless that human happened to have a tank or some missiles.
That second of hesitation was all the human needed to catch up to me, because in the next moment, something slammed into my waist, and I was flying forward.
But I didnât hit the ground. Instead, I crashed into my tackler, who, through some feat of agility, had simultaneously grabbed me and twisted us in midair to take the brunt of our fall. My breath was still knocked out of me for a second from hitting his hard chest, but the ground would have been harder.
âWhatâwas thatâfor?â I huffed, using my arms on either side of his face to push myself up. I had another split second of costly hesitation when our eyes met. His were a color I had never seen before: an astonishingly vibrant gold that seemed to beâŠglowing. Almost as bizarrely, the color perfectly matched his longish hair and short beard.
âAdelak,â he said urgently. âDedran es ethankil.â
I didnât understand a word, but then again, that wasnât surprising. I had already been ninety-nine percent sure I wasnât in Pennsylvania anymore, and his Babel talk pushed my certainty to one hundred. Thing was, though, I didnât have time to waste surmising even that much because there was a dragon about to eat us.
That was when I admitted to myself that I knew what the Thing was.
Naming it didnât make it any less deadly, and in fact made it about twice as terrifying, if that was even possible.
I scrambled to get off my tackler, but though he let me get onto my hands and knees to put some distance between us, he continued to hold on to my waist while shooting off more words I couldnât comprehend.
âWhatâŠare youâŠdoing?!â I panted in pure panic. âThereâs aââ
Thatâs when I finally could twist enough to look behind us at our impending doom.
To see nothing and no one in the clearing but us.
I was so astonished, I nearly fell on him again. I looked around frantically, and the man let me go to do so. I sat back on my heels, fingers of one hand against the ground as I twisted and turned, but I could see no sign of the behemoth that had no doubt been baring down on us for the kill not a second before.
âWhereâwhereâwhereââ I said, until realized I was repeating the same word like a broken record and bit my tongue to make myself stop.
âAdelak,â the man insisted, his voice turned soothing as he too sat up. I realized I was still crouched over his legs. I fell sideways onto my rear, partly to get off him, partly because I could do nothing else but sit there in numb shock.
âWhere did it go?â
I stared, for a lack of anything else, at the altar where Iâd come inches from being a human sacrifice and nearly as close to being in a dragonâs belly, if only by proximity. But I was reevaluating the past few minutes in a bewildering blur, rewriting the script again. Iâd been certain the dragon had intended to.âŠ
Well, actually, I had no way of knowing what the dragon had intended to do. And that was almost as disturbing as its sudden disappearance.
âNema?â the man said, a questioning rise to the end of his speech. That is, if a vocal rise had the same meaning to him as it did to me.
When I glanced at him in a daze, his expression seemed to match the lilt in his voice: eyes open and searching, head tilted toward me.
âTheâŠ.â I swallowed, finding it hard to force the word through my throat. âThe dragon.â
I didnât know why I was bothering. If I couldnât understand him, he sure as heck wouldnât understand me.
And yet, comprehension dawned on his face. âDrakĂłn?â he asked. The A was lower, the G turned hard into a K, the low O fully vocalizedâbut it was unmistakably similar.
âYes!â I said, pointing across the empty clearing. âTell me Iâm not crazy and that aâŠdrakĂłn was just there.â
He hesitated, looking at me as if not sure I was serious.
I groaned and put my head in my hands, which were still trembling from shock. âIâm crazy, arenât I? Must have lost it there near the end in just sheer terror, I guess.â
I raised my head, eyes falling on the altar. âBut thenâŠwhat scared away thoseâŠother things? The ogres, or whatever theyâre called?â
I couldnât have imagined those too, could I? Noâmy wrists and ankles were still raw from the ropes theyâd tied there. I could still smell their acrid stench in the clearing, lingering in the back of my nostrils.âŠ
âAhglen.â
âWhat?â I asked blankly, looking back at him.
He pointed at the altar with a dark, hard look. âTher suther ep âahglen.ââ
The emphasis on the word the second time finally helped me understand.
âThe ogres are called ahglen?â I asked.
It was only when he nodded that it hit me.
âWait one freakinâ secâyou can understand me?â
A faint chuckle escaped his lips, and he nodded.
âHow?â I demanded. âIf you can understand me, why do you keep replying in your language?â
Once again, he hesitated. But this time it appeared less because he was evaluating how serious I was and more because he could not think how to explain.
âNever mind, then,â I huffed, getting to my feet.
I wanted to keep sitting. Actually, what I wanted was to lie on my back and stare at the sky until my shaking stopped, my sweat dried, and the world turned back to normal. But that didnât seem like a smart idea withâŠahglen somewhere in these woods. And, if I wasnât crazy, a dragon.
How could I have imagined that roar?
âEklan dres oden?â he asked hastily, getting to his own feet.
Then I was staring upâway upâat him.
Goodness. Iâd known from being so up close and personal with him that he was ratherâŠlarge. And I did not mean in the heavyset way. Every inch of him that I could discern underneath his loose golden shirt and pants appeared to be thick, hard muscle. EveryâŠninety inches or so of him.
I then felt every inch of my five-foot-six. For the first time, a bit of nervousness started creeping in. Surprising that it had taken this long, considering this guy had just tackled me. Maybe it was our shared humanity, but even as we were falling, I never once considered that the man might mean me harm; I had no idea why heâd done it and still didnât, in fact. But Iâd subconsciously assumed good intent.
I still did, seeing the clear earnestness in his golden eyes look back at me. But it was hard looking up at that seven-and-a-half feet of viking-esque beard and muscle and not feel a twinge of my comparative helplessness. PlusâŠall thatâŠgold. His hair, his eyes, his clothing.⊠It was a bit more overwhelming standing up. Maybe it was the way the setting sun could now strike his face over the angle of the treetops, making him into something a bit less mortal and a bit more godlike than was suited for comfort.
Iâd stand behind him if the ahglen came back, though. Somehow, I got the feeling that he could take them.
I realized from the puzzlement going over his features that I was still staring and looked away.
My eyes fell on the altar again. Hard for them not to, what with it being the only feature of significance in this clearing. I shuddered, rubbing my arms. Goosebumps were reappearing there from the chill of the drying sweat on my skin.
âWhat drove them away?â I asked, not expecting an answer. âIf not a dragon?â
The man hesitated long enough that I looked backâall the way upâat him. If our facial expressions meant anything remotely similar, he was looking a bitâŠreluctant.
âWhat?â I asked.
He ran a hand through his hair. Which tussled those metallic, shoulder-length locks in a distracting way for me. âYeth drakĂłn.â
âI know,â I said, sighing at how short a distance this one-sided understanding was going to take us. âYou already made it clear that I hallucinated the dragon.â
He was shaking his head grimly before I even finished. âYeth drakĂłn,â he said, emphasizing the first word this time, and pointing at the altar as he did so.
I puzzled it out for a second before my heart began hammering in understanding. âThere was a dragon?â I asked, nervous. I glanced around the clearing, but it still was not in sight.
Just when a certain lovable Disney kidâs movie about an invisible dragon was entering my thoughts, the man sighed again. This time, he pointed to himself.
âAni ehâdrakĂłn,â he said slowly, gently, as if to avoid startling me.
I stared at him, uncomprehending.
He huffed in frustration and folded his arms as he stared out into the clearing, as if trying to find something there to use to communicate with me.
âDrakĂłn,â he began again, pointing beyond the altar.
âRight, Iâm with you that far,â I said. âI saw that part for myself. And heard itâloud and clear. What I donât get is where it went. Youâd think I would have noticed a thing that size taking.âŠâ
I trailed off, because as soon as I said the word went, his eyes lit up with an idea, and his pointing finger began tracing a line from the altar towardâŠus.
Ending pointing back at himself.
Again.
Ani ehâdrakĂłn, heâd said. While pointing to himself.
I stared. And swallowed. Even though it felt like no saliva was left in my mouth to go down.
âYouâŠare the dragon?â I rasped.
He nodded slowly but firmly.
I couldnât help it: I took an unconscious step back. I didnât regret it, even when I saw him wince.
âAdelak,â he said quickly, hands spread out by his sides peaceably, palms toward me. The same word heâd said several times after chasing me down. Though I didnât understand it still, his gesture and expression were unmistakable.
He meant me no harm.
âHow?â I choked. âHowâŠcan you be.âŠâ
He shrugged helplessly. I realized that perhaps that had been an unanswerable question, the kind that had no answer, even for philosophers speaking in the same language for hours, much less in our case. After all, I could have asked âWhy am I human?â and there would have been nothing for him to say in reply.
As I stared at his tentative, all-too-human expression, I tried to banish my unease. But that roar.⊠That enormous mass of scale and sinew, that unstoppable force of death and destruction.âŠ
Even given his imposing presence as a human, my weary mind just didnât seem up to reconciling the two halves of the whole in my head.
I cleared my throat, âSoâŠsorry, but just for clarityâs sake, I have to ask: you donâtâŠmean me harm?â
He sighed and shook his head. âAdelak. Ani droden makethwella.â
I believed him. With the openness of those eyesâŠI found it hard not to. That didnât mean my primordial instincts quieted all at once, butâŠI found my heart rate beginning to slow.
âGreat,â I said faintly. âGreat. Um.⊠Glad we had this talk.â
In fact, it was a good thing that weâd cleared that up by then, because just at that moment, I heard yet another sound that Iâd never heard before.
A powerful rushing in the distance, as if a great wind were sweeping through the trees toward us. Accompanied by a heavy whumpâŠwhumpâŠwhump.âŠ
On any other day, I might have had no clue what was coming. With dragons on the mind, well.âŠ
I am proud to say that when I looked toward the sound, though my face probably went whiteâjudging from the sharp look the man cast meâI did not run for cover. Or scream. Or even flinch.
OKâŠI might have flinched. Just a tad.
âEdlen,â he said soothingly. But he stepped between me and the rushing, thumping sound.
That ratcheted my heart rate to a whole new level. Because if I found it difficult to believe that this human version of a dragon meant me no harm, then I was going to have a heck of a time keeping it together with this new, very dragonlike addition. If even he didnât entirely trust the newcomer.âŠ
The whumps made their presence felt; I could feel the ebb and flow of gusts of air first. Then, as the sound increased to almost a dull, hissing roar, I felt the air pressure in my eardrums with each beat.
Then the dragon appeared over the treetops, soaring low and fast.
Seeing the immensity of that apex predator coming straight for me, all my survival instincts kicked into the highest gear. Iâll admit it: if the man had not reached behind him in that moment and grabbed my upper arm in a loose hold, I might have bolted.
I doubted anyone seeing their second dragon would not have done the same.
At least I bit back the whimper that threatened to escape as the violet dragon soared into the clearing a second later. With two mighty backward wing flaps that sent blindingly powerful gusts of air, it hit the ground with its hind legs and settled elegantly onto all fours a second later.
ThenâŠit was gone. Just like thatâpoof. Granted, Iâd been huddling behind the golden man and not paying close attention, but I hadnât thought it necessary to. How hard could it be to keep track of a beast the size of a super jet?
I had only just learned not five minutes ago that dragons could become something quite different, but Iâd had the longest and most harrowing fifteen minutes of my entire life, and my mind and body were wrecked from the first adrenaline crash and needing to ramp up for another.
World views take longer than five minutes to adjust.
A second after the dragon disappeared, I realized my mistake as soon as I heard a human female swearing.
Foreign language or not, I was positive most of the words she was throwing at us like daggers were swears. And those daggers were coming closer. I peeked around the golden man and nearly flinched again.
Lithe, with the effortless grace of a cat. Fiercely beautiful with high cheekbones, a pointed chin, perfect eyebrows only marred by one small scar, and white teeth that flashed menacingly as she continued swearing. Olive skin. Long, slightly kinky, bound dark violet hair with matching eyes still glowing. Violet plate armor tightly covering every inch of her below the chin, including her long neck. And, of course, she must have been over six feet tall.
I didnât know if I had ever seen a more intimidating young woman. My sole comfort was that it appeared her furious gaze was fixed not on me but on the golden man in front of me.
OrâŠit was until she caught sight of me peering around him. Halfway in between where sheâd landed and us, she froze in both mid-step and mid-curse.
She took me in with wide eyes for one moment. Then those eyes narrowed as they made their way back to the man.
He winced. I didnât blame him. Those eyes promised death.
Then I did perhaps the most courageous thing I had ever done.
This manâŠdragonâŠperson had just saved my life. I wasnât sure why, but I believed him when he said it was with good intentions. If he had violated some kind of dragon code by doing so, I didnât think it fair that he be sentenced for it while I huddled behind him.
So, since his grip on me had gone slack, I slipped out from his graspâignoring his muttered protestâand stepped in front of him. I did my best to lift my chin and square my shoulders. Iâll admit, though: meeting her glowing violet eyes with her dragon form fresh on my mind took a heroic effort.
âItâs not his fault,â I said, proud that there was only the slightest tremor in my voice. âIâm not sure what he did wrong, but Iâd be dead right now if it wasnât for him. SoâŠif heâs to be punished, then I should be the one to take the punishment.â
She stared at me for a moment, as if she couldnât quite believe what she was hearing. Then she looked at the man just behind meânot a hard feat with both able to look over my headâand arched one eyebrow.
This time, when she spoke, her tone was much more on the dry than lethal side as she asked the man a pointed question. He replied steadily, with no hint of anxiety or guilt in his voice.
Sheepishly, I got the feeling that I might have overestimated the level of trouble we had been in. That feeling appeared to be confirmed when the young woman rolled her eyes; I was pretty sure from the casual hand on her hip and her air of pure annoyance that the eye roll meant the same thing to me as it did to them.
My heartbeat slowed to a pace that was not quite normal but much closer to self-consciousness than fear.
The young woman strode the remaining distance to us while she and the man traded questions and answers. Meanwhile, he moved to my side, so they were no longer talking over my head. She still glared at him, but now I recognized the glares as not meaning literal harm, and his expression was merely chagrined as he took his scolding. I hazarded a guess that far from wanting to kill him, she had been worried about himâthat he had been reckless in either taking off on his own or trying to tackle an entire tribe of ahglen solo, or maybe both.
I wasnât sure why either would be a problem; heâd managed them easily, and I couldnât imagine anything that would have posed a challenge for him in dragon formâand few in his current one. But that was probably my dried-up imagination failing me. If a fierce young woman like her had been worried, then things could have gone differently.
Although I shuddered to think how.
The young womanâs gaze fell back on me for a moment, and she asked me a pointed question. All I could do was stare at her helplessly before the man interceded, probably explaining my lack of understanding. She demanded something, he shrugged in reply.
When she looked back at me, she said something that sounded different from the way theyâd been speaking before. I got the fleeting impression of a more lilting, almost melodic cadence. Then I realized sheâd most likely been trying a different language on me.
âStill donât understand that one,â I said.
She scowled and spoke again. This time, her words were much more clipped and guttural.
I just shook my head. âNope, sorry.â
The man spoke this time, trying a different language again: one that sounded like Latin, which Iâd taken as my language credit in high school. I shook my head again. âNope.â
The young woman threw up her hands and barked something at the man. He frowned severely at her and gestured to me as he replied. The young woman spread her hands and said something emphatically, and she too gestured at me.
I sighed, feeling the second adrenaline crash of the day draining the rest of my patience. I put a hand to my forehead, feeling even more of a headache coming on. âLook, guys, I know thereâs not much you can do about it, but itâs getting annoying for you to be talking about me like this as if Iâm not right here.â
The man looked at me and grimaced. âAhdrah.â
I was fairly sure that meant âsorry.â The young woman huffed, not looking the least bit sorry as she glared at him.
He groaned, but the way his shoulders sank seemed to indicate giving in somehow. He looked at his friend imploringly, but she only smirked and then gestured to me with both hands and a comment that I swear sounded like, Youâre the one who saved her. Sheâs your problem.
He sighed but didnât argue. Then he looked at me hesitantly.
âLook, I donât mean to be a bother,â I said. âIâm grateful for your help and all that. But I should get home. IfâŠthatâs possible I guess.⊠I donât suppose you two have ever heard of a place called Pennsylvania?â
As I had expected, both just stared at me. I sighed, shoulders drooping. âIâŠdidnât think so. Seeing on the planet Iâm from, there arenât dragons or ogres or ahglen or whatnot.â
The young woman said something dryly, and I was glad I couldnât understand her, because I guessed from the manâs glare at her it wasnât complimentary.
I tried to ignore her and asked the man, âDo you have any idea how I could have gotten here? I was just wading in a creek in my world, and.âŠâ
I swallowed. âThen somethingâŠweird happened. Everything got windy and cold, and I fell through ice, and by the time I woke up, I wasâŠhere.â
From the grim look in his eyes, I saw he did have some idea, even before his nod. Even the young womanâs expression sobered, and they exchanged meaningful looks.
I swallowed. âDo you have any idea how I can get back?â
He hesitated, looking at the young woman. She just looked back at him, folded her arms, and shrugged. Then she unfolded one arm to point at the fading light and said something firm.
My heart sank. âIâm assuming that means you need to go soon.â
She looked back at me with an eyebrow arched in surprise, but the man chuckled at her and said something that sounded teasing. She scowled at him and snapped something back.
The man ignored her and looked back at me. And sighed. Then began rolling up one of his sleeves with a grimace.
âUh, whatâs going on?â I asked, eyeing him.
The young woman snorted, but at his glare, she seemed to take pity on either him or me and made herself useful. With her most serious expression yet, she pointed to me and then made a beak shape and mimed talking by opening and closing the âmouth.â Then she cupped her hand behind her own ear, made her eyes demonstratively wide, and nodded with slow emphasis. Then she looked expectantly at me.
âUh.âŠâ I said. âYouâre saying that you can understand what Iâm saying?â
She nodded.
âKa avain drakĂłn,â the man told me with an inclined head. Then, for emphasis, repeated, âDrakĂłn, hem?â
DrakĂłnâdragon.
âRight,â I said, remembering. âYou two can understand me because youâre dragons.â
Because thatâs logical, I thought but wasnât rude enough to say out loud. Besides, I understood all the rules of reality had changed.
He nodded, giving a quick, tense smile at my effort.
âI still donât understand what this has to do with.âŠâ I said, looking at his now bare forearm. Heavily muscled, of course, but hairless. Not a single freckle, either. Just smooth, pale skin.
The woman waved her hand to get my attention again. Once she had it, she pointed to her own mouth and opened and closed it to mime talking. Then she pointed to me, frowned, and made a slashing motion while shaking her head: a clear negative.
âBut I canât understand what you say,â I repeated back to her.
I tried to hide my impatience to know where this was going. If they had to go soon and leave me in this jungle to find my way back home, Iâd prefer they started figuring out a way to help me rather than state the obvious.
She nodded. Then she pointed at the man and handed him one of the daggers at her waist, hilt first.
As if that were his cue to take up the explanation, he took the dagger and looked at me to make sure I was watching. Then, with perfect equanimity, as if he did this every day, he pricked his pointer finger with the dagger.
I stared, trying to wrap my head around why heâd done that. Was he trying to show how sharp the dagger was? But why?
He held his finger out to me, inviting me to look. Swallowing, but glad the sight of blood didnât bother me, I took a step closer and looked.
And stared.
His bloodâŠwas the same color as his eyes and hair. It wasâŠgold.
âYven drakĂłn,â he said.
I looked up at him, eyes wide. âDragon blood?â
âYven drakĂłnani,â he clarified.
I frowned as I puzzled what the meaning could be. âYour dragon blood?â
âHem,â he said with a nod. Again, that tense smile of approval.
I looked at the woman, at her violet hair and eyes. âBut yoursâŠwould look different?â
âHem.â She pointed to that drop of blood. Then to her ear and her mouth. Then waited expectantly.
I looked between her and that drop of blood several times, trying to put all the pieces together.
They could understand me because they were dragons. I couldnât understand themâŠbecause, well, I wasnât. This was dragon blood, which they had thought was important to show me, because.âŠ
âItâs your blood, isnât it?â I looked up at the man. âSomething in your blood makes you able to understand me.â
âHem!â he said with a wide smile.
âI still donât understand,â I said with a frown. âWhy are you telling me all this? How does that help me?â
âHeâyven ythresha ve seyven,â he said patiently.
When no comprehension dawned on my face, he sighed. Then he reached toward me with the finger trailing a bit of bloodâtrying not to startle me, eyes locked on mine for permission.
âWait, what are you doing?â I asked nervously, backing up a step.
The young woman threw up her hands again and grumbled, clearly nearing the end of her patience. The man spared a glance at her and said something sharp that made her scowl, but she folded her arms and fell silent. He looked back at me with a grimace of apology. Then he reached up with the bleeding finger and tapped his own ear.
I reached up to touch my ear. Could a dab of his blood, however magical, really give me the same understanding that he had? He seemed convinced it could, or at least wanted to try.
I trusted him, but I was still apprehensive. Yes, it was just a drop or two. Yes, it looked thick, gold, and metallic and nothing like human blood. But it was still blood.
Yet what other choice did I have?
âOK,â I whispered.
He moved his hand again, raising it to the ear Iâd exposed by tucking my dark hair behind it. He lightly brushed his fingertip down the outer edge with the faintest of touches.
It was still enough to send a shiver down my spine. Maybe it was the surprisingly warm bloodâalmost hot enough to be uncomfortableâlingering on my ear. Or the tingles that shot over the entire surface and into my ear canal in one quick flash. It couldnât have been the way he leaned in close, eyes tight with concentration, as if willing the blood to do something.
âWhatâŠhappens now?â I asked nervously, avoiding his gaze.
Then he spoke. And when he did, my heart gave a thud and my eyes shot to his again. âWhat was that?â
He said the same words againâfor the third time now, since they were the same ones heâd said after Iâd asked, âHow does that help me?â
âHeâyven ythresha ve seyven.â
I still heard them in his language. But now, after three timesâespecially after the two since heâd touched my ear with his blood, I understood. Thatâs what he had been trying to tell me.
The blood will help you understand.
My jaw dropped. âItâŠit did! Holy cow, butâŠit did. It took me a bit, but I understood that.â
He grinned and leaned back.
âHow?â I asked, dumbfounded. I touched my ear, but the blood must have already dried. I didnât so much as feel crustiness. âItâs just blood.â
âYven aâdrakĂłn,â he reminded me. It took effort, but I understood that too. It helped that I somewhat knew the words already: Dragon blood.
So not just any old blood. Dragon blood. Which, apparently, was so darn magical that it could impart its language abilities on me with just one swipe of the stuff in the right place. I could take nothing for granted anymore.
The young woman said something fast and hard, pointing at the darkening sky. She spoke too quickly for me to keep up, but I could guess her meaning: time was short.
The man muttered something to her, but he raised the dagger to his bare arm in a businesslike manner.
âWait, what are you doing now?â I said.
âEt sa kalthen?â he asked with a raised eyebrow. The amount of effort it took for me to puzzle out the meaningâlike turning the dials into just the right positions on an antique radioâproved his point.
Was that enough?
I grimaced. âNo, butâŠare you seriously going toâŠto cut yourself right now to make up the difference?â
He shrugged, as if that were nothing. âHem.â
I stared at him. âAre you sure you want to do that?â
âAaagh!â the young woman said, throwing up her hands.
I didnât need a translation for that.
She turned on her heel and began marching toward the woods. She shouted something over her shoulder while drawing a claymore that had been strapped to her back and looked far too large for any normal person to wield.
I looked at the man in mild alarm. He just shrugged and sighed, not appearing concerned. âAdâa ythren,â he said. Sheâll be back.
âSorry,â I said with an apologetic grimace. âI know Iâm dragging this out, but itâs all soâŠforeign to me. Using blood as a tool like this.⊠Especially if it means hurting you.â
He nodded. âKalla,â he said, holding out his finger. Look.
I looked down at it, wondering what I was supposed to be seeing. Then frowned as I realized that was perhaps the point. âWait one secondâisnât this the finger you pricked? Whereâs the blood? Or scab?â
âWyrshen,â he said with a smile. Gone.
âYeah, I see that,â I said. âWhere did it go?â
He chuckled. Then he pricked his finger again with the tip of the dagger and held it out to me. âEdrin.â Watch.
I watched, then stared as he wiped the bead of blood away with his thumb to reveal the tiny hole, which disappeared not a second later. He wiped the blood trail off on his pant leg and showed me his perfectly whole finger once again.
My eyes went wide. âNo way. You can heal that fast?â
âHem,â he said with a chuckle.
I looked at his forearm. I was getting an inkling how such smooth perfection was possible. âHow fast would your arm heal?â
He shrugged. âEâdek ev resh.â
I still didnât understand what a dek was, but I got the vaguest sense that it wasnât long.
âIt wouldnât scar?â I wanted to be sure I wasnât asking something unreasonable of him before I gave him the go ahead.
He shook his head. âAhn.â He raised an eyebrow and inclined his head pointedly at his arm, as if to say that if what he was about to do scarred, heâd be covered in scars by now.
I frowned. âThis really isnât a big deal to you, is it?â
He shook his head again with a small smile. âAhn.â
âOK,â I said as I let out a breath. âIf thatâs the case, and you really want to do this.âŠâ
âHem,â he said firmly.
âAlright, then,â I said, steeling myself. As if I were the one about to be cut open. âGo ahead.â
Without further ado, he calmly raised the knife and cut a neat line across the inside of his forearm. Thick golden blood congealed in the crevice of parted skin, so hot it steamed in the air. My stomach turned a bit, especially when I caught the faintest whiff of something pleasantly pungent, almost like a spice; the way it appealed to me was the exact opposite of comforting. Revulsion was the proper reaction. What did the lack thereof say about me?
I wanted to look away or to step back, but I fixed my eyes on the wound. This was for my sake. I wouldnât take that for granted by looking away, no matter how uncomfortable I made myself.
He swiped his finger down the line of blood, collecting enough to paint a good portion of his finger gold. Then he raised his finger and looked at me questioningly for final confirmation. I swallowed and nodded, turning to show him my other ear while tucking my hair behind it.
This time, he covered my ear in blood, moving his finger back to his arm several times as if his wound were a palette and his finger a brush. The hot tingles that were shooting from my ear into my skull were enough to make me close my eyes within seconds from the effort it took to hold still.
Just when I thought I couldnât take it anymore, he moved back to the first ear heâd touched, painting it entirely over. I distracted myself from the sensation by imagining how strange my blood-painted ears would look once he was done. Good thing Mom had convinced me to let my hair grow so long, down to nearly my waist, so it could conceal them.
âHow long will this last?â I asked, searching for another distraction.
He stepped back and examined his handiwork on both ears. âA sevenday, perhaps. Maybe a bit more. Itâs always hard to tell.â
It took me a whole second to realize that his meaning came through so quickly and clearly, he might as well have been speaking English to me.
âHoly cow,â I breathed.
I answered his questioning look. âThe difference. Goodness, itâs likeâŠI had cotton in my ears before or something, but nowâŠI donât even have to think about it to understand you. I just do.â
âThen itâs working as it should,â he said with satisfaction. âGood. Because thatâs Yvera returning from her scouting, and sheâs not going to wait for us to leave any longer.â
I turned and saw the violet-haired young woman striding back to us. I noted enviously how much ground she could cover with those long legs of hers. She would dominate the competition in track.âŠ
I made myself focus on my priorities. âOh,â I said, trying not to sound nervous. âGood. Um, I guess that means you can give me directions on how to get home and be on your way.â
âYou donât honestly think itâs safe for you to wander around this jungle with a whole rogue tribe of ahglen after your blood, do you?â he asked, folding his arms. âI went through all that trouble to explain to you that Iâll get you the help you need, but youâre going to have to come with us first and wait until morning. Even I shouldnât be out here at night, which is why Yvera is so anxious to get me back.â
âOh.â The relief felt like a mountain was being lifted off my shoulders. I trembled with it. âThank you. I was not looking forward to.âŠâ
âEnding up right back where you started?â he asked with a crooked smile and dark eyes, inclining his head toward the center of the clearing. And the altar there.
âSpeaking of which, we should smash that before we leave, Ben,â Yvera said briskly as she reached us.
âRight,â the man said grimly.
I was stuck on his name. âBen?â I asked.
I had a tough time believing such an imposing man had such a run-of-the-mill name as âBen.â
âShort for âKoriben,â actually, but hardly anyone except my elders calls me that,â he said with a crooked smile, as if inviting me in on a joke. âYou can just call me Ben.â
It was the unexpected comradeship in his eyes that made it dawn on me. The beard had thrown me off, but.âŠ
âWait, how old are you?â
Yvera snorted and Ben laughed. âNot much older than you, I imagine. Twenty summers.â
âIâm twenty-one,â Yvera said smugly, as if that made a whole lot of difference.
I tried not to stare. Twenty.⊠Just two years older than me? He couldnât be.âŠ
Granted, I did not know how long a year lasted on this planet, but still.⊠He thought we were close to the same age. He thought we wereâŠpeers.
âAnd your name?â Ben prompted, interrupting my muddled thoughts.
âOh. Sorry,â I said, feeling heat rising in my cheeks for no good reason. âSarah.â
âSarah,â he repeated with a brilliant smile, as if he could no longer contain the excitement he was inexplicably feeling. âYou wonât be able to appreciate the full gravity of this until weâve explained, so just trust me for now when I say it is a rare honor to meet you.â
My blush deepened. I didnât know what to say in reply, but Yveraâs impatience saved me.
âYeah, yeah,â Yvera said. âDaylight is wasting, remember? Now that she can understand us and knows weâre not kidnapping her, can we go now?â
Ben sighed but didnât argue. âAre you carrying her or am I?â
I noted with interest that his arm had already scabbed up, and I could almost see the ridges sinking as I watched.
Yvera snorted. âLike I said: you found her, so sheâs your responsibility. Besides, I need my full range of motion in case your dallying gets us ambushed.â
âIs thatâŠlikely?â I asked, trying not to sound worried.
âNot if we leave now, no,â Ben assured me. âYvera isâŠmy bodyguard, basically. Itâs her job to be paranoid.â
That raised quite a few questions for me, none the least of which was why he needed a bodyguard, but Yvera shoved him and said, âLess talking, more changing. Go on. Shoo. Iâll get her onto you, we smash that altar, then weâre out of here.â
âBe nice to her, Yv,â Ben said sternly, but he turned and started walking away.
ââBe nice to her,ââ Yvera mocked pettily. âWho does he think he is? The King?â
âI heard that!â Ben called over his shoulder.
âUh, is he a king?â I whispered to her.
âWhat? Pshh, no,â Yvera said condescendingly.
âOh, good,â I said with a sigh of relief as I watched Benâs retreating figure.
The thought of having someone that important bleed for my sake had twisted my insides. Plus, I knew so few people in this world; Iâd felt a pang to think that the first person Iâd ever met was the one Iâd never see again once he inevitably passed me off to someone else.
Because I was watching this time, I saw Ben fall forward, and in a bewildering and nausea-inducing few seconds, his form shifted and stretched and expanded and surged in all directions, until not a handful of moments later, I was staring at a golden, scaled behemoth that occupied good fourth of the enormous clearing, one so large that he had to turn carefully in place to keep his giant tail and roof-sized wings from scraping the trees as he did.
Had Yvera been as large? I was almost certain she hadnât. I couldnât imagine any creature being bigger. Or moreâŠmagnificent.
Yes, now that the worst of my terror was over, I could admit it: he was the most awe-inspiring creature I had ever seen. At the end of a very exhausting, world-changing half hour, the sight of him was enough to make me unsteady for a reason other than but not unlike fear.
Awe in its extremity feels the same.
âNah,â Yvera said casually as the dragon completed his rotation and fixed us under his golden, serpentine gaze. His neck frills and two sets of thick, spiral horns fanned around his head more majestically than any mane or crown. âHeâs only the Heir.â
Leah Welkerâs website sports the tagline âAuthoring works of light,â and Dragonâs Blood certainly qualifies as such a work. Thereâs a hopeful note that sings right from the beginning, while our protagonist is entangled in the menial work of caring (and locating macaroni necklaces) for a brood of siblings. Thatâs before she falls through a crack in the worlds, nearly ends up under the sacrificial knife of a group of ogre-like monsters, and gets rescued by a gigantic dragon.
The story is full of likable characters each trying to do the right thing in their own way. My favorite is bright, sweet Sarah, whose position within a large family has taught her to put othersâ needs before her own; yet underneath, she is as solid and strong as an iceberg. Kor, with his cleverness and wit, might be my second favoriteâbut I trust him about as far as I could throw him in his drakĂłn form. You know exactly where you stand with straightforward Yvera, the BAMF who would relish a reason to punch your lights out. Then thereâs Ben, a golden, sun-filled teddy bear with a savior complex who also happens to be Heir to the Six Realms. Less-than-worthy characters must surely exist, but everyone showcased in this book makes me smile. Maybe fighting against an encroaching evil bent on devouring all life as we know it tends to foster solidarity.
While there is plenty of action, the interactions among all the characters drive this romantasy. Ben and Sarah are pretty cute as they fall into first love, fighting it all the way, and itâs touching to watch their friendship develop. Though I am all for using dialogue to convey information, I did bog down in chapter nine. The 20+ straight pages of meandering conversation is absolutely believable, as well as plot-relevant, but itâs still just a lot. The narrative also employs too many italics for my taste, yet the exaggerated tone fits here.
Welkerâs website bio states that she majored in English (linguistics, not literature) and minored in modern Hebrew. Not only does this make her one of my personal heroes, it explains why the bit of fantasy language sprinkled through Dragonâs Blood has an authentic ring to it. The story climaxes with a big reveal of just how high the stakes are, but even so it manages to end on a buoyant note, and fans will wait impatiently for book two.