Overworld, Writing

And Also…

More from the beginning of Storm Rising.


“Th-there you are!” Mastekh greeted, his voice bubbling and frothing with various tones that told Estenarven so much more than the mere words. Mastekh had worried about him, he had missed him and Estenarven was forgiven.

Humming a low greeting of his own, Estenarven circled around Mastekh a second time, letting his tail trail behind him, rubbing over his fellow aide and lover. Though he was often tactile in his human shape, Estenarven wasn’t a dragon well known for public displays of affection, but he felt the need to reassure his dearest friend, so he twined his tail briefly with Mastekh’s.

The blue of the Rainstorm dragon’s scales deepened, bringing a green flush to his belly. Waiting for Estenarven to pass over once more, Mastekh reached up and gently rubbed his head against Estenarven’s.

“Oh, build a nest, you two!”

The shout startled Mastekh into withdrawing, leaving Estenarven flying upside down and alone. Righting himself, he used his tail to thump Jesral’s ribs. Even though her words had been full of amusement, she’d embarrassed Mastekh and now the poor Rainstorm was practically green all over.

“Don’t be jealous, Jessie,” he reproved lightly.

Grunting from the none-too-gentle buffet of his substantial tail, Jesral dipped under Estenarven and brushed an apologetic wing against Mastekh’s. “Sorry, Puddle. I was teasing him not you.”

Still a deep shade of green, Mastekh ducked his head and mumbled something about joining Kalaha before sinking out of sight.

“Thanks,” Estenarven growled.

Jesral had enough sense to dip her head as she drifted alongside him. “He shouldn’t be so sensitive,” she muttered, defiance and a touch of apology warring in her tone.

“He is who he is,” Estenarven replied, allowing her to hear the affection and warning in his words. “He has no need to change.” Clan Flowflight dragons were prone to being more sensitive than others, possibly because of their watery natures, possibly because of all the Clans the Cloud Curse had affected them the most, covering their ancient heartlands and leaving many of them lost.

By the same measure, Jesral and the other Skystorm dragons tended to act first and think later, rolling over their fellows like a storm in full force. That didn’t mean they couldn’t learn to have a little consideration for others, though.


Take care, my lovelies, wherever in the world you may be.

Books, Overworld, Writing

Blazing Dawn is Out! (Snippet #2)

Blazing Dawn Cover 2To celebrate the release of Blazing Dawn, and to make all the spamming seem worthwhile, here’s the second part of Chapter One.

If you missed the first part, you can find it here, where you’ll meet Rift Rider Lieutenants Nera and Anhardyne.

Now it’s time to introduce Elder Khennik kin Blazeborn Clan Sunlord, who is feeling very grumpy. You’ll also meet his lovely, if excessively nervous, aide Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight.

A fire dragon and a water dragon? What could possibly go wrong? ;D


“ELDER B-BLAZEBORN. ELDER B-BLAZEBORN?”

Khennik kin Blazeborn Clan Sunlord sighed and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. Ringed by hanging fronds of fragrant seisflowers, the sun was perfectly framed by the circular opening, pouring its life-giving warmth over his bare head. Seated in the brilliant spot cast upon the floor, Khennik had been deep in meditation, dreaming of his home far to the west, where the clouds were thin and the mountains dry. Every breath there tasted of dry heat, stoking the fire that ran through his veins, where to fly was to bathe in Father Sun’s glory.

“Elder B-Blazeborn?” The voice this time was much closer, even more timid than before and full of apology.

Khennik glanced towards the irritant with narrowed eyes. “What is it now, Mastekh?”

Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight sweated with nerves as he stood on the edge of Khennik’s precious sunlight. Barely past his change time, the youngster had only just mastered a human shape, though his skin was blue-grey instead of a more acceptable shade, his hands were clawed and he wore scales instead of clothes. Merely being in Khennik’s annoyed presence loosened what little control Mastekh had and a soggy tail uncoiled behind him.

Trying not to snap at such a poor showing of focus, Khennik closed his eyes again and lifted his face towards the sunlight. “You will have to work harder than that, wingling, before the humans arrive. Else you will unsettle them and be asked to leave.”

If it were up to Khennik the youngster would have been long gone. Whoever had decided to pair a nervous Rainstorm dragon with a Blazeborn elder, not well known for his patience, was a fool indeed. Yet it was a rule between the kins and Clans that youngsters had to gain experience with others outside their own, especially those opposed to their nature. To toughen them up, the Starshine elders claimed. Khennik thought it was all rather cruel, when he thought of it at all.

“That’s j-just it, Elder B-Blazeborn,” Mastekh stuttered, his voice turning bubbly – a clear indication that he was about to lose his hold on his form altogether and revert to dragon shape.

Khennik’s eyes flashed open in a glare. “If you’re going to liquidate, do it outside.” The only water he permitted in this sunroom was for the plants. Everything else took too long to dry, and if he had to see to it himself the flowers might not survive. Which would put him quite out of temper.

Gulping nervously, Mastekh clenched his clawed-hands together and stared at the ground for a long moment. A shudder rippled over his scales and skin, the blue shade darkening as more water dripped from his nose and elbows, but he finally mastered himself.

“Ap-p-pologies, elder,” the young dragon whispered, lowering his head as if expecting a beating.

Khennik had never been one for physical punishment. He sighed. “Fetch a cloth and clean up after yourself, then leave me be. I have too much preparation to do for the arrival of our human guests’ tomorrow to be disturbed now.” If meditating and brooding over his poor fate could be considered preparation. Which in Khennik’s book it definitely could.

Humans were useless. Once they arrived they would need constant supervision and support, leaving him no time for anything other than irritation at their hopelessness. A foolish task for a Blazeborn, especially one with as important a mission as his.

“N-not tomorrow, Elder B-Blazeborn,” Mastekh squeaked, wringing his hands so hard that yet more water dripped onto the beautifully dry floors. “N-now.”

“What?” Khennik snarled, losing patience as he opened his eyes yet again. “Stop this brookish babbling, Mastekh, and speak clearly.”

“The h-humans are er-er-early, elder,” the Rainstorm dragon bubbled in a rush. “By a whole d-day. They’re h-h-here. Now!”

With that Mastekh lost all control, bursting out of his human form and leaving a large, soggy dragon drooped pathetically across the floor and a completely sodden elder glaring at the mess.


Still want more?
Oh, very well.

Chapter 1, Part 3

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