Excerpt

Here is the first page of Scordril:

Scordril tilted his bronze dragon face upwards and stared uneasily at the birds scattering in the distance. His scales sparkled in the warm morning sun as he stretched his wings backwards, flexing the shoulder muscles. Always vigilant, his sharp dragonmage senses were now on maximum alert.

He was standing watch outside the entrance to the Musselburgh layr. He hadn’t anticipated trouble, of course. Few overgrounders, or ‘people’ as they called themselves in their own tongue, came by here. It was too far away from overgrounder buildings and not near enough the river Esk to be on the way to anywhere special. But that gave him no comfort as he watched a tiny silhouette in the clear sky. Something was heading his way – and overgrounders didn’t fly.

Scordril breathed quickly and narrowed his eyes. The unwelcome shape grew in size and familiarity, only to dip suddenly out of sight below some treetops.

Surely he was wrong? Scordril lashed his tail with irritation, disturbing a bee, which began angrily buzzing about his face. No, he hoped he was wrong but it had looked just like a…

Dragonclaws! thought Scordril, as a surge of fury rushed through his veins. His golden-green eyes glowed brighter as he watched the outline of a young dragon careering towards him. He knew that no dragon would ever fly without a dragonmagic cloud to hide himself unless something was terribly wrong. Instinctively, Scordril drew on his magepower to shield the faltering shape from the view of any overgrounders.

At that moment, the single word »Help!» echoed inside Scordril’s head…

Scordril tilted his bronze dragon face upwards and stared uneasily at the birds scattering in the distance. His scales sparkled in the warm morning sun as he stretched his wings backwards, flexing the shoulder muscles. Always vigilant, his sharp dragonmage senses were now on maximum alert.

He was standing watch outside the entrance to the Musselburgh layr. He hadn’t anticipated trouble, of course. Few overgrounders, or ‘people’ as they called themselves in their own tongue, came by here. It was too far away from overgrounder buildings and not near enough the river Esk to be on the way to anywhere special. But that gave him no comfort as he watched a tiny silhouette in the clear sky. Something was heading his way – and overgrounders didn’t fly.

Scordril breathed quickly and narrowed his eyes. The unwelcome shape grew in size and familiarity, only to dip suddenly out of sight below some treetops.

Surely he was wrong? Scordril lashed his tail with irritation, disturbing a bee, which began angrily buzzing about his face. No, he hoped he was wrong but it had looked just like a…