Dragon Stones (Book One in the Dragon Stone Saga)

Dragon Stones

Book One of the Dragon Stone
Saga

Author: Kristian Alva

Editor: Isaac Sweeney

Defiant Press

Elk Grove, CA

The Dragon Stone
Saga

Book One: Dragon Stones

Book Two: The Return of the Dragon
Riders

Book Three: Vosper’s Revenge

ISBN 9781937361020
(Smashwords Version)

Audience: Young
Adult

Genre: Fantasy

Dragon Stones,
Book One of the Dragon Stone Saga

Kristian Alva

Copyright Defiant Press
2011

Published by Defiant Press,
Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright Notice: ©Defiant
Press 2011. This book contains material protected under
International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any
unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part
of this book may be reproduced or transmitted without express
written permission from the publisher.
www.defiantpress.com

Cover illustration:
Jesse-lee Lang

Find out more about the
author at: www.KristianAlva.com

Prologue

***

The Dragon
Hunters

The mountain air was chilly, and the sun had
already set. Rosy light filled the valley as the sun set on the
mountainside. Thirteen men crouched warily in the low brush. These
men were used to waiting outside these mountain caves. They
whispered quietly only when necessary. They were there on the
direct order of Emperor Vosper, trained specifically for this
purpose. These men were Dragon Hunters.

Dragon Hunters always travel with an
apprentice mage who is proficient in protection spells. These
hunters were protected by a powerful masking spell, which allowed
them to get close to the dragon’s cave without the adult dragons
detecting their smell. The young mage, Dirkla, was pale with
strain—he had been holding the spell for two days without sleep,
and he could not mask his fatigue.

So close to this birthing cave, even the
slightest mistake could mean their doom. Captain Kathir cast
another worried glance at the mage, who was shivering with
exhaustion. Kathir knew that the mage’s spell would eventually
falter, but he would collapse from exhaustion before he would admit
any fatigue. That’s just the way the emperor’s wizards were
taught—never show any sign of weakness. Kathir frowned, but he
didn’t voice his concerns to the mage. All wizards were a foolish,
stubborn bunch. The spell was designed to keep them from being
discovered, but it didn’t protect them from cold and hunger. All of
the men were feeling the effects of the long surveillance. They
were stretched to the limit.

Kathir was exhausted, but he could not
afford to go back to the emperor empty-handed. Vosper was cruel
when displeased. Kathir was a mercenary, not a villain. Dragon
hunting was a job like any other, except that it was dangerous and
paid extremely well. Kathir had seen over thirty winters, which
made him the oldest in his troop. Thirty was old for a mercenary,
and even older for a Dragon Hunter.

Kathir was stocky and tightly muscled, with
deep scars on both cheeks. The flesh merchant’s mark. It was a sign
that he had once been a slave. The scars were deep, but faded with
age. Not all merchants marked their slaves, because any mutilation
lowered their value, but it made them much easier to recover if
they escaped. Kathir never discussed his past with his men, and
none of them ever asked.

He steadied his gaze again on the cave’s
entrance. His patience was rewarded. At that moment, three adult
female dragons lumbered to the edge of the cave. They waddled out
awkwardly, muscles stiff from months of inactivity as they guarded
their eggs. Dragons’ bodies were built for flight, rather than
scrabbling around on the ground. Their caution had limited their
flying unless absolutely necessary. They didn’t want to draw any
attention to their birthing cave.

These females were all carnelian dragons;
the most common type. Carnelians were small, with brownish-red
scales, and just larger than a horse. Their size made them fast and
cunning. They breathed fire and had limited magical powers, just
like all dragons. In the dusky light, Kathir could just distinguish
the brownish stone embedded at the base of their throats.

All dragons produce a dragon gem as soon as
they gain their ability to breathe fire—usually at about six months
of age. The stones grow in naturally, like a tooth, developing to
about the size of a chicken’s egg. Their scales are still soft at
that age, and the stone erupts at the base of the throat, where it
will remain until the dragon dies or is killed. The dragons use the
stone to focus their powers, store magical energy, and communicate
with their riders (if they have one). None of the nesting females
was bound to a rider; it was easy to see because none of their
dragon stones had been carved with the crest of a rider. Their
throat stones were all smooth. These dragons were wild.

Dragons are solitary creatures, and prefer
to raise their young alone, but the remaining dragon females had
grown wary and now banded together in groups of two or three. The
females shuffled quietly to the edge of the ridge and scanned the
horizon. Their ruddy scales flickered as they stretched their wings
to the sky. These remote mountains offered better protection from
Dragon Hunters, but little to eat, and all of the females looked
very thin, their ribs plainly visible. The females, driven by
hunger, decided to risk a group hunt. All three females unfurled
their brown wings and took flight. The men waited anxiously. This
was the moment they had been waiting for. As soon as all the
females disappeared in the distance, the men ran to the cave’s
mouth.

The mage closed his eyes and stretched his
hands out, murmuring a simple spell. The soldiers tensed, ready to
retreat if necessary. “All of the females have left,” the mage
gasped. “There are only hatchlings in the cave. Go now!”

“Go! Move! We don’t have much time!” Kathir
shouted. The men rushed inside. Kathir turned to their exhausted
mage.

“Dirkla, rest outside for a moment. This
won’t take long. Gather your strength. We will need your powers
again when we leave the mountain.” The mage nodded and slumped to
the ground. The soldiers streamed into the narrow cave opening and
descended on the unprotected nests, systematically slaughtering all
the hatchlings.

The hatchlings screeched in terror. Sprays
of blood splattered in wide arcs upon the cave walls. Merely weeks
old, they already had a keen intelligence. They climbed out of
their nests, but it was no use. Far off in the distance, anguished
shrieks from the female adults could be heard. All dragons could
communicate telepathically, but these hatchlings could do little
more than send a final dying plea to their mothers. The adults
would be circling back, but none of the females would arrive back
in time to save their young.

The men continued to slash at the nests,
careful to avoid their sharp teeth. A dragon bite is a foul wound,
even from a hatchling. Kathir walked briskly from one end of the
cave to the other, making sure that all of the hatchlings were
dead. In the back of the cave lay a white dragon—the rarest of them
all. It was the only white dragon he had ever seen; it had already
grown twice as large as any of the others.

“How many?” barked the captain. “The Emperor
wants a complete count.”

“Sixteen, Captain. Thirteen carnelian, two
emerald, and one diamond white. This bugger put up a real fight.”
The soldier kicked the dead white hatchling with his foot. It was
beautiful, even in death, its iridescent mother-of-pearl scales
sparkling.

The captain nodded. “Let’s get moving.”

Emperor Vosper would be pleased. The talons
of the diamond dragon would fetch a great price.

“Move fast, all of you! Cut those talons and
let’s get out of here! The females will be back any moment!” barked
the captain. His right eye was scratched and the wound was already
beginning to swell. “These hatchlings were aggressive. We waited
too long to raid this nest.” He put a finger up to his swollen eye.
A hatchling’s talon had scraped his cheek and his eyelid. He was
lucky; his eye was unharmed. Dirkla would tend to the wound once
they were at a safe distance. Still, it would leave a scar; another
one to add to his collection.

“We had to wait for all the females to
leave, Captain. They get more cautious every season.”

“Aye,” agreed the captain. “They are getting
better at evading us.” The men gathered the bloody talons into a
mesh bag. It was proof of their kills, and each one meant a bonus
from the emperor. The men walked outside, but one man stayed
behind, cutting scales from the white hatchling.

“Coltrim! Get out of there—the females will
be back soon. Leave that dead hatchling alone. We will be back for
the adults next month,” Kathir warned while he ushered his men out
of the cave. “We cannot wait for you.”

“Captain, these scales will fetch a good
price in the marketplace! I’ll be just a minute,” the man called
out over his shoulder to his captain, hurriedly stuffing his pack
with dragon scales.

“Your greed will get you killed, you fool,”
Kathir muttered under his breath. Outside the cave, Kathir lifted
the exhausted mage up to his feet and slapped his cheeks to rouse
him. “Dirkla, Dirkla! Wake up!” Kathir shook him. “Focus! We need
your powers again. Cast your spell while we leave the mountain. The
females will be looking for us at any moment.” The mage sighed and
lifted his hands, and immediately a shimmering fog enveloped them.
They started down the mountainside in the moonlight, hidden by the
fog and a masking spell.

A few minutes later, the
enraged females touched down at the entrance of the cave. The
greedy soldier was exiting, his rucksack bulging with the white
scales of the dead white hatchling. The females screeched in fury,
and the soldier’s cries resonated down the mountainside. Coltrim
would suffer a long time before he died.
Kathir did not look back.

Part One: The
Discovery

***

Chapter 1:
Family Secrets

Elias ran towards the town square, carrying
a glass jar filled with green herbs. He needed to deliver them
before nightfall. Elias’ grandmother, Carina, was the town midwife,
and she had a vast knowledge of herbal remedies. Today, he was an
errand boy, delivering remedies and other concoctions all over the
village.

Elias reached the shopkeeper’s back door and
knocked quietly. The shopkeeper, Flint Graywick, was a protective
father. He was also a widower and Birla was his only child. Birla
had been visiting Carina in secret, in order to alleviate her
painful monthly cycle. The herbs would help lessen her discomfort.
In the past, Elias would have been embarrassed to discuss these
things, but he had been training as an apprentice healer for years.
He was used to explaining things that would make other boys
embarrassed.

“I’m coming!” said a young woman from inside
the shop. Elias heard footsteps, and some more chatter as Birla
finished speaking to the customer inside. Birla opened the door a
few minutes later. “Hi Elias!” She was a plump girl with reddish
hair. She smiled and lowered her voice to a whisper, “Do you have
the medicine?”

“Yes, it is here. My grandmother gave you
some extra.” Elias held out the unmarked jar, which the girl
pocketed in her apron.

“Thanks. I don’t want my father to know. He
has enough on his mind without having to worry about my little
troubles.” She smiled awkwardly. All the women in the village felt
comfortable talking to Elias about their aches and pains, because
they were used to seeing him with his grandmother Carina. They made
the rounds together to all the females in the village.