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My Name is Simon: I, Dragon Book 1

Page 22

by Nathan Roden


  “Father! The dragon has returned!”

  The older sister cowered. The two boys ran for their bows.

  The farmer sat on a chair in the middle of the one-room house. His tattered boots lay beside him, the holes having grown large enough to make the soles nearly useless. His youngest son had just taken a pot of hot water from the fire to pour into the pan where the man soaked his feet.

  “Put down your bows,” the man said to his sons.

  “But, Father,” the oldest boy said. “The beast has taken you once—we may not be so fortunate the next time!”

  “How many times have I told you, Luke,” the man said. “The tales you hear in the village are based on nothing. Nothing, but the frightened talk of women and cowardly men.”

  “Father, I do not need the words of others to know the danger of great flying beasts with sharp teeth and breath made of fire!”

  The man stood and limped to the door. His sons followed him, carrying their bows. The man placed his hand on the door handle.

  “If either of you passes through this door with a bow, I will consider it disrespect.”

  The boys dropped their bows and followed their father outside.

  The dragon circled once more. He circled again.

  Something fell from the dragon’s talons and plummeted down at them. The children screamed and ran for the door.

  A bundle of burlap struck the ground at the man’s feet.

  “What is it, Father?” the youngest girl asked.

  “I’ll wager that it is a severed head!” cried the youngest boy.

  “Be quiet!” the man said. They looked to the sky. The dragon was gone.

  The man stood over the bundle. He untied the rope that bound it.

  There were two more bundles inside of the burlap. The man unwrapped the first one. His jaw fell slack. He wrapped his hand around the jeweled hilt and held up the gleaming sword. Its blade reflected the sun in a dazzling display of color.

  The man opened the second bundle.

  Inside that package were two new shirts, two new pairs of trousers—

  And a new pair of boots.

  The man held the boots before his face. He breathed in the heavenly scent of newly tanned leather. A tear ran down his cheek.

  He picked up the burlap bag and shook it. It was not empty. The man looked inside and found—

  Five large pieces of hard-rock candy.

  I hope you have enjoyed the first book in the I, Dragon series. If you did, then please consider leaving a review at Amazon. You know what they say, the way to a man’s heart is through an Amazon review. The link for the book is here:

  http://amzn.to/2diGY3F

  Please visit

  www.nathanroden.com

  Sign up for the newsletter to receive future release information, exclusive content, early reader information, and future contests and giveaways.

  Also by Nathan Roden

  The Wylie Westerhouse Paranormal Fantasy Series

  Book 1 Ghosts on Tour

  http://amzn.to/1Vhn36c

  Book 2 The Dark Stage

  http://amzn.to/1Y4NMCc

  Book 3 The Lightning’s Kiss

  http://amzn.to/29XO8xo

  Nathan Roden lives in South Central Texas with his wife and two in-and-out sons, and more dogs and cats than is necessary.

  To grab your two free short stories, and find out what’s coming up, visit

  www.nathanroden.com

  Connect with Nathan:

  BLOG: nathanroden.com

  FACEBOOK:www.facebook.com/nathan.roden.books

  TWITTER: twitter.com/WNathanRoden

  GOODREADS: www.goodreads.com/user/show/41141121-nathan-roden

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  A sneak peek of

  Rebellion

  I, Dragon (Book 2)

  One

  Simon’s first day back in the body of the dragon had been a long one.

  He had flown to the seaport village of Islemar and back to the farmlands outside of Morgenwraithe. He was now on his way back to Islemar.

  Simon looked forward to filling his jaws with fish from the cove that maintained a seemingly endless supply.

  He noticed movement at the corner of his vision. A herd of bison crossed a field.

  Simon’s mouth watered but he did not slow down or alter his course. Although his stomach interpreted the herd as delectable meat, his mind would not follow.

  Simon saw a family—on its way home.

  And he loved his fish dinners, especially after they were roasted to a crispy—

  The peaceful silence was broken by the screams of a hurt and frightened calf.

  Jackals.

  The calf had been cut off from the herd by a pack of ten jackals.

  Something is not right, Simon thought. Jackals do not hunt in packs that large. What unholy force is at work here?

  Simon was tired. He was hungry. And the scene below him was not helping at all.

  Simon beat his wings to drive himself away from the morbid scene, but the more he flew, the angrier he became. He tilted his wings and made a wide, sweeping arc. He glared down at the blood-thirsty predators.

  “Everyone and everything must eat,” he said aloud. “But you have chosen the wrong day to force me to watch the innocent suffer.”

  Simon dove.

  He roared and flew low over the pack, giving them one chance to abandon the calf and seek their next meal elsewhere. Four of the jackals retreated, but only for a moment. All ten closed in again, circling the crying calf—biting and clawing at its legs and hindquarters to bring it to the ground.

  Simon turned again and snorted fire from his nostrils. He sized up the largest of the jackals, beat his wings, and drove himself forward. He lowered his head and hit the jackal broadside. His wings hit two more members of the pack and sent them all rolling across the field. The calf had an opening and did not hesitate to take it.

  The three jackals rolled to a stop. They stood and shook themselves, and then joined the rest of the pack in chasing after the calf.

  But the hunters—

  Were now the hunted.

  Simon circled quickly and his eyes glowed red. One quick pass and a blast of flame, and the threat was over.

  Simon landed. He was exhausted and his wings felt too heavy to lift. He exhaled heavily, and black smoke poured from the sides of his mouth.

  He smiled as he watched the calf join its herd. The smile faded when he looked at the ten smoldering carcasses.

  “I would have been perfectly content with a belly full of fish,” Simon said to the dead. “I gave you a chance. This result—was your choice.”

  He sighed. There was no need to push himself on to the shores of Islemar tonight when there was roasted meat right in front of him.

  Simon rested on his haunches; hidden away in a half-circle of trees. After consuming the charred remains of ten jackals, he was full and content. The screaming pressure from his empty belly was only a memory.

  It will be nightfall soon, he thought. I can sleep here tonight and join Boone and Helena early in the morning.

  He dozed off.

  Two

  Simon woke to a rustling in the trees.

  He held his breath.

  Could it be King’s Guard? Or army? Not likely, he thought. They would be on horseback, and there is no way they could pass through the thick forest.

  Simon looked ahead of him at the broad expanse of grassy field. There was ample room for him to take to the sky and abandon his plans to rest there for the night. But he was not only very tired—

  He was tired of running away.

  He stood up and backed up between two trees. His scales faded in color, making him almost invisible.

  More rustling in the trees. And then the source of the commotion revealed itself.

  Three children pushed their way into the clearing. A tall boy held the hand of a younger girl. The girl held the hand of another very young boy.


  The oldest boy lifted his chin. He looked around and then stared directly into the eyes of the dragon.

  “Please come out,” the boy said, without a trace of fear. “You have nothing to fear from us.”

  The girl looked up at the boy.

  “Who are you speaking to?”

  Simon took a step forward.

  “That would be me.”

  The girl shrieked. She tried to run away, pulling on the older boy’s arm. The boy did not move.

  “Run, Caleb!” the girl screamed.

  “He’s a….he’s a…!”

  “A dragon,” Simon said.

  The youngest boy stared at Simon and sucked his thumb. The oldest boy’s face lit up with delight.

  “A dragon? A real, live dragon?”

  “Please, Caleb!” the girl continued to pull at Caleb’s arm. “He will burn us to death!”

  “No he won’t,” Caleb said. His smile was broad and his voice was filled with joy.

  “Don’t be afraid, Sara. I can feel him. I can feel his mind and his heart. He is kind and gentle.”

  Caleb’s smile was genuine. At ease—and unafraid.

  Simon stared at the boy. He took a step forward and raised his talon. He waved it in front of Caleb’s face. The boy did not move.

  Caleb was blind.

  “Thank you, Caleb,” Simon said. “Is this your brother and sister?”

  “Yes, My Lord,” Caleb said. “My sister, Sara, and our brother Ezekiel.”

  Ezekiel pulled his thumb from his mouth.

  “Zeke!” he said loudly.

  Simon laughed.

  “It is my pleasure to meet you, Zeke! The same goes for you, Sara, and you, Caleb.”

  Zeke pointed at his sister.

  “Sawa!”

  He pointed at his brother.

  “Caba!”

  Simon and Caleb laughed. Even Sara smiled a little.

  “What is your name?” Sara asked.

  Simon stopped laughing. It dawned on him that he had already put the children in danger.

  “It will be dark soon,” Simon said.

  “Not for me,” Caleb said.

  “Won’t your parents be worried about you?”

  “Mother has gentlemen callers,” Sara said. “We cannot go home until sunset.”

  “Let me see you home,” Simon said. I do not mean to frighten you, but there are packs of jackals about—they can be quite dangerous in numbers.”

  “Caleb won’t let them hurt us,” Sara said.

  Simon sized up the boy.

  “Do you have a weapon?”

  “No,” Caleb said.

  “He doesn’t hurt them,” Sara said. “He talks to them—like he talked to you.”

  “That is quite some skill,” Simon said. “Guard it closely. The king and his men have a great distrust of magic. They would like to have such abilities for themselves—or to see those with magic….go away.”

  Sara was frightened.

  “No!” she shouted. “The King has already taken our Father from us!”

  “What happened?” Simon asked.

  “Papa is dead!” Sara cried.

  “He was killed,” Caleb said, “along with many of his fellows in the King’s Army.”

  Simon swallowed hard.

  No…

  “When did this happen?” Simon asked.

  “Only weeks ago.”

  “The Kingdom is not at war,” Simon said, a tremble in his voice.

  “How did he die?”

  “They did not tell us,” Caleb said.

  Simon was devastated.

  Weeks ago. His escape from the dungeon beneath Morgenwraithe Castle.

  Where his fire had taken the lives of scores of men wearing the uniform of the King’s Army.

  “Your mother has gentlemen callers?” Simon asked. “This soon?”

  “She says that with Papa gone, it will be difficult for us to eat,” Caleb said.

  Grief washed over Simon.

  “What troubles you, Lord Dragon?” Caleb asked.

  “You did not say your name,” Sara said.

  Simon hesitated.

  “I know his name,” Caleb said.

  “Please,” Simon said. “You must not tell anyone that you have spoken to me—or that you have seen me. It can bring you nothing but grief and sorrow. And please, Caleb. Keep your gifts a secret!”

  “Papa always told me the same thing,” Caleb said. “You remind me of someone, My Lord.”

  Simon looked wary.

  “I do not know her name,” Caleb said. “She must have magic, as well. I cannot hear her thoughts.”

  Sara leaned toward Simon and whispered.

  “She is a wolf.”

  Three

  The wolf stopped at the edge of the forest, where a stream formed a shallow pool. She waded in and plunged her head beneath the water. She moved her body about—until all traces of blood were rinsed from her thick fur. She stepped onto the bank and shook herself dry.

  She stood on her hind legs and transformed into human form.

  The Lady Magdalena—the only known sorceress within the Kingdom of Morgenwraithe—fluffed out her long, black hair. She made her way to the King’s Road.

  Magdalena winced. A sharp pain in her thigh came and went.

  What a bizarre turn of events, she thought.

  My life was spared—by the friends of the dragon-king.

  Magdalena walked to the gates of Morgenwraithe castle. She held an orb of light that lit her path. Four alert guards met her.

  “I am here to see the King,” she said.

  “We have orders to admit no one,” one guard said.

  “Do not be absurd!” Magdalena said. She ignored the guards and walked between them.

  All four raised their swords, but they knew the threat was useless. Their fear was evident.

  “Please, My Lady,” the guard said quietly. “You must understand, it gives us no pleasure to detain you, but Sterling—”

  Magdalena stopped and waved her hand.

  “Yes, we must comply with the whims of Lord Sterling. Send for him, if you must.”

  One of the guards ran toward the castle.

  He returned shortly, walking behind Sterling and Raynard, who were in quite a hurry.

  “What are you doing here?” Sterling snapped. “I sent men to your home! Did you not—?”

  “Of course, I saw them! That’s why I am here! Your men told me nothing, but I knew there had to be some reason for their presence.”

  Magdalena raised her eyes to the sky.

  “And the moon is full.”

  She looked past Sterling and Raynard.

  “Was he here?”

  “No!” Sterling shouted. “Do not be ridiculous! And keep your voice down—”

  “Did my guards follow you?” Raynard asked. He turned and looked up the King’s Road.

  “I had no intention of allowing them inside my home!” Magdalena said. “I am certain that they are doing a splendid job of guarding my door—just as you instructed them.”

  “Send two more men there to get them,” Sterling said to Raynard.

  “And bring them directly to me!”

  “My Lord,” Raynard said quietly. “My men are spread thin.”

  Sterling glared at Raynard. He looked at Magdalena.

  “Guarding the Lady’s home has proven to be a dangerous undertaking,” Sterling said. “Send the men.

  “Immediately.”

  “I wish to speak with Lucien,” Magdalena said.

  “The King is resting,” Sterling said. “He had a little…accident. Struck his head. Nothing to be alarmed about.”

  “But he and the Queen are safe?” Magdalena asked.

  “Of course,” Sterling purred. “Why are you concerned?”

  Magdalena glared at the other guards.

  Sterling waved them away.

  “We do not know what thoughts lurk inside of Simon’s head,” Magdalena said. “After twelve years of li
ving as a wild beast, how much of that sweet little child can be left? He saw fit to murder the girl who loosed him from the dungeon. If he still carries the mad hope of regaining his birthright, then he may see Lucien’s child as the ultimate threat.”

  Sterling laughed.

  “My Lady! I believe you have spent too much time alone in that dreary hut full of potions! What a waste that is! You are still a desirable woman—for any man willing to risk being burned alive, that is!”

  “The thought occurs to me,” Raynard said. “Will your magic tell whether the child is a boy or girl?”

  Sterling raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes,” he said. “Do you possess such knowledge?”

  Magdalena shook her head; perhaps too quickly.

  “No. If such magic exists, I know nothing of it. Why should it matter? We know that the Queen’s womb is fruitful, and that the couple is capable of performing the deed. She could have a dozen more children—unless the King continues to have ‘accidents’.”

  “I do not care for your tone,” Sterling said.

  “And I do not care for your insults, My Lord,” Magdalena said.

  “It is getting late,” Sterling said. “Captain, send a guard to see if someone has occupied the seer’s quarters. If so, throw them out. The Lady will be our guest tonight.”

  Magdalena wanted to object, but she knew that it would look suspicious.

  Within an hour, Sterling would learn that two more members of the King’s Guard lay dead—

  At her front door.

  Four

 

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