I'm so happy to be able to have KH LeMoyne here sharing about her newest fantasy romance release, Dragon Rider's Gift, the beginning of a new trilogy. She's created a special treat for us, a vignette that serves as a prologue to her new book.
Dragon Rider
Vignette
Marsha, thank you for having me on your blog today!
Every once in a while, I can’t let go of a story even after
it’s been released. Granted, Dragon
Rider’s Gift is the first in a trilogy, but each story will follow
different dragon riders in the land of Fyrhall. So I have created a vignette to
accompany the first tale. This scene occurs before chapter one and is a first
glimpse of Kraz, the ancient red dragon with attitude.
I hope you enjoy.
Oh, How the Mighty
Fall
Cold air rasped against Kraz’s wings like blades flaying his
skin. There was no help for it. He had no idea what had interrupted his
pleasant century-long sleep, but boredom dictated his path over the mountains
of Ichorae on his way to the western shores. Now awakened, he craved a view of
the brilliant blue Belizian waters and a warm mountaintop on which to sun.
But that would have to wait.
The sleet and gusting winds around the tallest peak of Devil’s
Fork were the least of his problems. He swiveled his head and drifted low
enough to skim the icy crest for better access.
There. Faint cries, more like mewls, fluttered on the wind
and vanished.
Catching the next cross current, he angled for another pass
and scanned the sheer cliffs for a landing place. Several fissures would
provide a grip for his claws, but he needed passage inside, not to hang like a
frozen bat on the surface.
Somewhere deep in this snow crusted mass of rock were infant
dragons. Alone and cold, if the mewls he’d heard rang true. Only death or
serious injury would tear a female from her brood. Neither option boded well
for the young.
In the land of Fyrhall they would be safe. For their kingdom
revered and honored his kind. But Ichorae’s inhabitants claimed murder and
thievery as their moral compass. There weren’t the worst. The Piceus Alfar, the
darkest of eleven clans and more evil than red or white Alfar clans, thrived on
magic wrung from beasts with his magical legacy. He wasn’t about to allow
fragile younglings to fall into their clutches.
Wings tucked against his body, Kraz bulleted toward the
crack along the northern face. At the last second, his wings billowed, halting
his descent. Ice covered the rock, but one hearty gust of fire from his belly
provided a firm grip for his claws.
Cries echoed again.
Determined, he tore at the fissure and blasted a stream of
fire into the opening. Flinging chunks of rock behind him, he widened the
opening. Surprisingly, the entrance to the mountain gave way with ease. Seconds
later, he’d clear enough debris to stalk toward the gleaming light at the
mountain’s core. Built from years of volcanic eruption and seismic changes,
Ichorae resembled a porcupine landscape of mountains and wasteland. But blessed
lava ran beneath its crust, the heat now a balm to Kraz’s scales and hide. He
knew ice dragons existed, but they were few. He, for one, would never leave the
molten rivers that had sustained most of his kind for a cold, foreboding
climate.
At the tunnel’s end, he swept a glance from his overlook to
the lava lake below and the plateau of rock rising from its center. Toward the
far edge of the rock island sat a large wooden crate. It wobbled and the soft
mewling began again.
He narrowed his eyes and searched the confines of the cave.
Inhaling deeply into the first two chambers of his lungs, he paused. Nothing.
He couldn’t discount that someone was here, but no foreign scent alerted him.
No obvious hindrance lay between him and the younglings.
Not that danger would stop him. Neither did the steep angle
to the island or the cave’s tight circumference. Hundreds of years had taught
him a thing or three. He could reach the crate, remove the younglings, and be
on Fyrhall’s sun-toasted shores before sundown. He’d see the infants well fed
and then wait for the king’s dragon riders to arrive to take them to the infant
stables.
Dragons were scarce, with eggs were unheard of these days.
His prominent pass over the nearest town would alert the king’s dragon guard.
Then, his job finished, he would settle back for a well-deserved nap.
His first sweep over the lake revealed nothing. The second
allowed him to bask in the lava’s heat. Then his neck spines rose as an
uncomfortable twinge shivered through his body. His spines prickled as a clear
view of the crate continued to elude him. A shield?
He dove for a direct pass. Rumbles echoed above from the
tunnel he’d entered as his claws swept though the top of the crate.
Damn. An illusion.
Pumping his wings, he spun hoping to gain moment and lift
from the hot air currents. More rock shifted and groaned, within the cavern
this time. Hot sharp pain wrapped around his forearms. More clutched his feet.
A final shot of painful injustice circled his neck. He thrashed as the chains
previously hidden by elven magic halted his escape and brought him crashing to
the rock island.
“No.” His roar shock the ground beneath him as his fire slid
along the island’s surface, skated over the lava, and crawled up the cave wall.
All to no avail.
Now the crouched figure at the edge of the tunnel shimmered
into view. A bald green head with large, pointed, hairy ears set atop a rumpled
black cloak. The stench, previously camouflaged, earmarked a quarter-blood
descendent of the Piceus.
Kraz roared again. Not because it would make a difference,
but if he burst the eardrums of the little weasel above he’d at least gain some
satisfaction.
The man, if he even ranked as part human, cupped one hand
over an ear and shook his finger at Kraz. “No one will doubt my magic now.”
“Come down here you poor excuse for a troll. You will not
leave me here.”
“Bellow all you wish. I can’t understand your dragonspeak
anyway. You’ll remain for eternity or until I choose to sell you to the highest
bidder.” He rubbed his thick, meaty hands together with glee. “The queen will
finally grant me a place at her side.”
Kraz turned away at the cackle more grating than claws on
flagstone, refusing any response before such a lesser being. At least he knew
for certain the Piceus queen wouldn’t allow that little runt within spitting
distance of her. Jailer of a dragon or not.
As the smell dissipated, he thrashed against again at his
chains, but his strength was useless. The bolts of the chain in the wall, held
firm. The lava surrounding his spit-of-hell remained too far away to melt the
links. And now the mystical shackles burned him with not only pain, but also a
healthy dose of humiliation.
A pop and spray of lava was all that broke the silence.
How, with my cunning,
did I fall for this? Ah yes, the younglings.
The crate, an apparition now reduced to a jinn bottle. A vessel
for the image and sounds that had lured him. A youngling had suffered, but
given the ageless features of the fluted ceramic, it could have been days or
centuries since the abuse was recorded.
With a irate sweep of his tail, the bottled flew into the
lava. He curled around with a snort and closed his eyes. First, he would chew
on his rage followed by—a short nap wouldn’t hurt.
Then he’d find some way out of this prison.
Copyright 2012 KH LeMoyne
Dragon Rider’s Gift
is an adult fantasy romance, the first in the dragon rider trilogy and a
Portals of Destiny Tale.
***
Title: Dragon Rider’s Gift
Author: KH LeMoyne
Genre: Fantasy Romance, Adult
Roark
of Nedres spent his life absorbing lore, legend, and rumor to claim his dragon
beast in order to save his people. Nothing has prepared him for the ultimate
bond fate will demand.
Princess
NiraMerielEstar was born with the power of prophecy. Her most recent vision
forecasts a dire fate for her people, promises few answers, and will deliver
the country of Fyrhall a victorious future or crushing defeat.
Kraz,
an ancient dragon of mythical power and knowledge, has eluded capture for a
thousand years. However, only a dragon of great wisdom would consider an
eternal bond to his warrior rider to save his dragon race.
Three
souls.Two hearts.One courageous calling.
Author Bio
A former
technology specialist, KH LeMoyne writes sensual romance: urban and high
fantasy, and scifi/futuristic. She lives in Maryland with her wonderful husband
and corgi. Much to her dismay, she rarely encounters supernatural beings other
than on paper. Visit her website: http://www.khlemoyne.com/ or blog:
http://fantasypoweredbylove.com/
Important
Links
Website: http://www.khlemoyne.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kh.lemoyne
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/khlemoyne
Publisher: http://digitalcrystalpress.com/
Purchase from
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Dragon-Riders-Portals-Destiny-ebook/dp/B007VG8ZU8/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1334833027&sr=8-2
Book Excerpts
Excerpt #1:
The Prophecy
Threatened to extinction, the children of magic fled Earth. The
most powerful of them ripped great holes in the universe to hide their brethren
throughout space with one true bloodline, forever charged with the protection
of the great portals between worlds.
The World of TirThar shelters the oldest and most powerful of
Earth’s benign and malevolent magical beings. Hindered from free access to the
portals, the dark mage of Brennagmore turns his hunger for power on those of
his own world.
Prophecy earmarks Fyrhall, the kingdom of renowned dragon riders,
as the mage’s first vulnerable target. Yet even joined by their allies, the
dragon riders’ battle will take more than courage and skill to defend against
the attack.
The difference between slavery and freedom for Fyrhall
and those who fight at their side—one dragon, one rider, and one future queen.
Excerpt #2:
Roark walked slowly to the edge, squatted,
and stared into the cavern below.
Rivers of molten rock and magma lakes
covered the cavern’s perimeter. Occasional lava sprays reached for an island
rising from the center. Spider webs of heavy iron chains on the spit of land
covered a chrysalis of leathered flesh.
Clamped and manacled, the object of his
quest remained motionless. Then, as if in response to Roark’s presence, the
flesh flexed. Narrow bones spread like a Merian dancer’s fan to expose
mountains of thick muscle covered in glistening ruby and bronze scales.
The creature shifted. A thick iron collar
circled a neck the size of an elephant. More iron connected claws and hind legs
to chains riveted to the four compass points of the cavern.
In awe, Roark watched as the huge head
turned toward him. Two nostrils flared and exhaled smoke. From beneath a browridge
longer than Roark’s body, moon-sized marbles of orange and black zeroed in on
his position.
He forced a smile. He could fake
confidence if need be. “Before you consider blasting me to hell and back, it’s
fair to let you know I’ve come to release you.”
3 comments:
Marsha, Thank you for hosting me and have a wonderful day!
~Kate
This vignette makes for a wonderful teaser, KH! Looking forward to the series :)
I just bought this one and am excited to read it. After those excerpts, it is going to the top of my TBR! :)
Thank you for sharing.
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