Transformed (Ancestral Magic Book 2)
Page 15
The Son of the Storm Saga
Son of the Storm
Lord of Thunder
The Ancestral Magic Saga
Mageborn
Transformed
The Dreamwalker Saga
Awake
Arise (December 2017)
The Tinker Saga
The Tinker’s Tale
Stealing Seramore (April 2018)
The Fall Saga
The Fall
The Maelstrom (May 2018)
The Child of the Stars Trilogy
The Bindings of Fate
As Darkness Falls
The Enemy Within
New Tales
Dragonspeaker
Silver Serpent Chronicles (September 2017)
Heart of the Forest (February 2018)
Short Story Collections
Tales of Tellest
Tellest Legends (July 2018)
About the Author
Michael DeAngelo is a spinner of fantasy tales for those that love the genre. With a vast fantasy series under his belt, he creates worlds. He conveys the stories that the denizens of the realm are unable to, turning heroes into legends and villains into horrors unlike anything you can imagine.
He crafts epics about extraordinary folks who are thrust into a world of danger and intrigue, and designs plots that make you contemplate if such a world could truly exist, placed atop a setting of majesty and wonder. He is the author of the Tellest series of fantasy novels and novellas, where imagination goes to play, and the world is in your hands.
Michael resides in Levittown, Pennsylvania with his incredible family: a beautiful wife and two fuzzy babies. To learn more about him, go to www.tellest.com
Connect with him at:
Facebook – Tellestbooks
Twitter – Michael DeAngelo
Michael@tellest.com
***BONUS MATERIAL BELOW***
Excerpt from Dragonspeaker (Cat of the Kehara: Book 1)
Crystalline granules of sand whirled about in a frenzy, scattering this way and that. Even without the oppressive wind casting the dunes her way, she still would have had to deal with the sun. Its radiance reflected off the golden mounds, bright enough to blind anyone. She was prepared, though, with several light layers of burgundy cloth wrapped around her face so only a small portion of her eyes was visible.
Kaiyonani let fly a deep breath that was caught by her headwear. Saveon summers were difficult to endure, and that one was said to be one of the worst. Still, she had a task to perform—one of the first in her life she was trusted to partake of on her own accord—and she meant to perform it well.
She began another ascent up one of the steep dunes. Her padded feet were perfect for scaling the rolling sand, and her outfit, scant as it was, allowed for mobility. The staff at her side was used more for balance than prodding the ground. Indeed, she often held it just above the surface. Her youthful body had become toned and strong from such endeavors.
As Kaiyonani reached the peak of that tall mound, she finally allowed herself some respite. With a firm tap, she rooted the staff in the sand and braced against it. A slow, deep breath filtered in through the sash, and she relished in the cooler, clear air that blew atop the dune. Free of the harsh sand, she reached up and tugged on her makeshift mask. As the sash lowered, it revealed her feline features.
While she had beautiful green eyes akin to the other mortal races of Tellest and lips that were plump and pink, there were certain aspects of the female that identified her race. Brown spots speckled her brow, cheeks, and body, like all the people of her tribe. And like other kaja, she had the large, pointed ears of a cat. Her body was covered by a thin layer of fur, except for just below those ears, where tufts of it pulled back around her head. Long, flowing, dark hair began just above her forehead, between those ears, and pulled up and back into an ornate wrap adorned with spikes. That hair then fell about her shoulders, whipping with the wind.
Kaiyonani parted her lips and breathed in the cool zephyr that traveled atop the dunes. Blinking away her fatigue, she ventured a glance over her shoulder. The oasis she had left behind was so far away then. She could barely see the palm trees casting down their shadows on the wide pool or the encampment that called the place home. The zephyr intensified, and she could see those distant trees bend to the wind and watched as sand rolled over the dunes that surrounded the oasis.
Taking in one last breath of clean, unfiltered air, she labored at putting her mask back in place. Staring out among the Kehara, through that thin band of her protective headwear, she could only reflect on what had transpired to lead her down her present path.
*****
Haemado sat on bent knees, his hand gently stroking the uneven scales of the creature before him. Those scales, once a lustrous shade of ochre, had faded into a dusky ecru. With every labored breath, her body lost its color.
The kaja elder didn’t dare to remove his hand, even as tears welled up beneath his eyes. Every inhalation drew farther than the one before, and her eyes barely opened. He knew she wouldn’t see him, but he couldn’t bear to sit on the other side of her where the damage was most prevalent.
He wanted to remember her more fondly.
Iraneth grew far too weak to speak, but she made attempts anyway. Haemado whispered to her to hush, that he knew everything that was important. By then, the words she communicated between bouts of agony were in Draconic anyway. Even if the kaja had studied all his life, he could not manage the mysterious inflections and harsh sounds the mighty tyrant and all her kind had mastered naturally. No, dragonspeaker was more of a symbolic title, a promise a bond had been made—an oath that two races had come together with the intention of always protecting the other.
Haemado bowed his head at that failure. He understood he was not to blame for the attack on Iraneth—he wasn’t even present when her injury had been incurred. But that did nothing to alleviate the guilt that swelled inside. When she arrived, there was not much time before her energy had been sapped. Haemado could only understand a few words of her labored speech. One word rang true, however: brood.
The kaja shook his head at his selfishness. Of course she had offspring. They had talked about it at length over the course of weeks, perhaps even months. Haemado had yet to see them, though. Iraneth had told him then what he already knew: A whelp was too young to introduce to a mortal. They would imprint, and the dichotomy of the two races would be lost to the majestic creature. They would, in essence, never understand what it meant to be a dragon.
Haemado was lost so deep in his thoughts, he didn’t realize at first the dragon had not drawn breath in some time. Hissing at himself, he cursed his selfishness once more. He had not been present for the death of his truest friend—not fully anyway. He looked into the closer of her large eyes, the iris clouded over and pupil impossibly small. The dragonspeaker leaned forward and shut that eye with the palm of his hand.
It took some time for him to finally rise. The oasis he called home was not large, but a section of it had always been specified for Iraneth upon her visits. The other kaja didn’t understand the relationship a dragonspeaker had with one of those creatures, but they revered them nonetheless.
When Haemado stepped away from his fallen companion, he looked to the far side of the oasis. There, all his people stood in solidarity, burning candles in hand.
*****
It was unbelievable to think the inside of the hut could be hotter than the scorching desert sands. When Kaiyonani entered, she nearly flung herself out again. But Haemado, her grandfather, sat just before the fire, his eyes closed and his arms stretched wide.
“Take a seat, child,” he spoke.
“Grandfather, we must leave,” she protested. “You’re bound to pass out from all this heat.”
Though he kept his eyes closed, Haemado let a one-sided grin show one of his fangs. “You think Iraneth breathed fire cooler than this? I will manage, and so will you.”
“I don’t understand
,” she said.
He pointed one of his outstretched hands to the floor of the hut. “Since we have lived here, the kaja have survived because of two things: cleverness and favorable alliances. One of those was with Iraneth. A dragonspeaker is a kaja tribe’s best hope of enduring the hardships the Kehara and indeed all Saveon put forth upon us. It is a title that is an honor to hold, and it is usually one held throughout a kaja’s life.
“I always believed I would have more time to seek out my successor. My bones are not yet brittle, and though my muscles ache more now than in my youth, they still have some years in them. But my time as a dragonspeaker? That is over.”
“What do you mean, Grandfather?” Kaiyonani asked. “You’ll always be a dragonspeaker.”
“In title alone,” he said. The kaja elder opened his eyes, peering at his granddaughter. “A bond like that can only be made once in a mortal’s lifetime. It’s unheard of, but if a dragon should perish, their mortal is without a conduit forevermore.”
“What does that mean for our tribe? Without a dragon to protect us, the other kaja of the desert could overwhelm us.”
“Without a doubt,” he said. “Though it will be some time before they hear news of Iraneth’s fall, when they do, our days on these sands could surely be limited. Without a true dragonspeaker, we are at great risk. This is why another dragonspeaker must be chosen.”
“Another?” Kaiyonani asked. “There has only ever been one. No tribe has ever had more than that.”
“These events are unprecedented. There has never been such an occasion as this. But I have closed my eyes and let the heat wash over me. A vision has come to me, and a successor has been chosen.”
The flames flickered in Kaiyonani’s eyes as she realized why she had been summoned. “Grandfather, you can’t mean—”
“It is true. Surely you must have known you were destined for this. I may have some life in me yet, but I won’t be around forever.”
“I suspected Barrus would be the next dragonspeaker.”
Haemado grinned but shook his head. “Barrus will make a fine leader for the tribe. He is strong and fearless, but I can see in his eyes he will always lack wisdom. A dragonspeaker must be just as brave and willing to endure, but they must also be cunning. No, Kaiyonani, it was always you.”
She exhaled, uncertainty causing her breath to shudder. “But I have no dragon. We’ve seen none that aren’t accounted for in the skies.”
“A dragonspeaker must also know when to lie—or at least, when to omit the truth. Another dragon waits in the sands. Five, in fact.” When he saw Kaiyonani’s brow furrow, he nodded. “Iraneth had a brood. They are without their mother now and will need aid to survive the days ahead. One of them will be the one you bond with.”
“I can’t do this, Grandfather. I don’t know how.”
“You will learn, as we all did,” Haemado returned. “Consider this: When it was my turn to take up the mantle, the previous dragonspeaker had already passed on. I will guide you as best I can. I have no doubt you will be the greatest dragonspeaker that ever lived.”
The elder kaja stood and gathered a large wooden bowl from the side of his hut. Without hesitation, he dumped its contents on the fire. The water and flame met, sending a sizzling protest into the air. Steam fled the room through the open chimney, and only a few embers remained behind. Haemado traded his bowl for one of the pieces of tinder, charred black from the heat.
“We will spend several days preparing you for your journey, my child. Even though that moment is on the horizon, we must treat it with the utmost urgency.” He pressed the stick into the ground, rubbing the black into the dirt. “First, you must know where you are going.”
*****
Kaiyonani looked at the long stretch of the Kehara desert before her. Sparkling sands disappeared into the horizon as far as the kaja could see. It was the farthest she had ever been from home. A glance over her shoulder proved that thought, for the oasis was no longer in sight. Tall dunes obscured her view of it, though the setting sun assured her she would not be able to consider that homesickness for long.
There were still many miles to go, and long shadows would creep across the desert before long. The dragonspeaker ascendant would have to consider the journey ahead to protect the paradise she had left behind.
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