From Chapter One:
The dark form lowered itself directly in front of the
doorway. One dull green reptilian eye stared into the
cottage from the side of a dragon's head.
Oh, goddess.
Puddle squealed and darted under the bed.
Smoke drifted upward in swirling tendrils from the
creature's nostrils. Dull gray scales covered its head, and
what I could see of its neck. Besides some short, blunt
horns and spikes lining its wide jaw, the dragon's head was
smooth and lizard–like. The creature's shoulders were
even with the cottage's roof. At least it couldn't fit
through the door.
Then, it spoke.
The rumbling voice reverberated in my chest. "You,
mortal. Make yourself known. Step forward so I can see you."
I gnawed on an already worn–down fingernail and
wondered why the creature would make such a request. I stood
no more than ten feet from it. Either it had a vision
problem or it intended to eat me. At the taste of blood on
my tongue, I forced myself to stop chewing on my raw
fingertip and tucked both hands behind my back.
Trembling like a frightened snippet, I whispered, "I'm
here."
"Speak up, mortal, or face my wrath!"
"I'm Loralee, your new Keeper." I took one wobbly step
forward, waving my hands helplessly in what I hoped would be
interpreted as a surrendering gesture.
The dragon's horns and jaw spikes extended in one sudden
burst. The journal never mentioned that aspect of dragon
anatomy. My legs couldn't hold me upright anymore. I fell to
my knees, shaking so hard my teeth chattered.
"Who sent you?" the dragon thundered. "Who are your kin?"
The wisdom symbol on my forehead tingled—a timely
reminder to watch my tongue. It would not be wise to explain
how I had been forcibly sent here, not until I knew how to
handle myself around these creatures.
Hugging myself tightly, I forced part of the truth past
my clacking teeth, hoping it would suffice. "I am the eldest
daughter of Priestess Arianne. I'm a high elf, as she and
King Leopold are."
"Daughter of the Priestess? Do you think me but a
dragonling, ignorant of the deceitful ways of
elven–kind?" He craned his head this way and that, as
though trying to focus through his cloudy eye.
"N–not at all, kind dragon." Goddess, that sounded
pathetic. "I am here to care for you, not to do you harm." I
bowed my head to show my reverence, knowing any minute I
could be reduced to ashes. The journal didn't mention how to
introduce myself to my charges, either. Another bit of
information that would have proven useful before I became a
snack.
"Who is with you?"
"No one but a harmless snippet." Glancing toward the
bed, only Puddle's yellow eyes were visible, wide and
startled, as I'd ever seen them.
Another voice spoke from behind the gray dragon. Still
as rumbling, but not as deep and more airy, like a bellows
over a blacksmith's fire. Female, perhaps?
"Back away, Kershar! Let me get a look." An
olive–green dragon's head nudged Kershar's to one side
and turned sideways to inspect me with a pale yellow eye.
"You've frightened her to near death. Have I not told you to
remain cave–bound while you go through the shedding?"
Shedding? I dared a look at Kershar, finally realizing
why his eye, and to a lesser extent, his scales, were so
dull. My sister Prysilla had raised a virtual zoo of pets
over the years. Every reptile and amphibian replaced their
skin on a regular basis. Like those, Kershar must have been
molting. The edges of the shedding eye scale had already
separated from the new tissue beneath.
The olive–green dragon spoke again. "Come closer,
child. My mate will not harm you. He is all smoke and no
fire, and he is as mortal as you are."
Kershar butted the other dragon's head. "What did you
say to her?"
"Never mind, Kershar." She butted him back. "Child, you
are safe with us. A dragon's promise is as firm as this rock
upon which we stand."
Having no choice, but feeling a little more comfortable
in this creature's presence, I pushed myself to my feet and
swallowed in a futile attempt to wet my
dry–as–cotton mouth. I stepped forward until I
was so close the dragon's warm breath ruffled my acolyte robe.
"They've sent another Keeper, I see. I am Xaxony,
matriarch of the clan. You've met Kershar, my mate." Xaxony
flicked a red, forked tongue and smiled.
Dragons can smile? Who knew? "I'm Loralee. Loralee
Munroviel."
"The Priestess's daughter?" Xaxony puffed a cloud of
smoke from her nostrils. Kershar rumbled again. "The mortal
is deceiving us. She cannot be a Keeper."
"She smells like a Keeper to me. Where is your mark, child?"
Mark? What mark ... oh!
I turned my back to Xaxony and parted the hair at the
nape of my neck, hoping at least some of the dark birthmark
was visible on my scalp.
After a pause that lasted too long for comfort, Xaxony
said, "She is genuine. We should leave her in peace until
she is settled. Come to the caves when you are ready, child,
and I will show you the island."
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