by D K Drake
The
Dragon Dimension
Books 1-3 of The Dragon Stalker Bloodlines Saga
The Dragon Collector
The Dragon Hunter
The Dragon Protector
D.K. Drake
©2019 Bonnie Jean Schaefer
Published in the United States of America by Dream Doers Publishing LLC.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Taliya, a Dragon Protector, makes her first appearance at the age of 22 in The Dragon Hunter, book two of The Dragon Stalker Bloodlines Saga. She is short and sassy, has waist-length black hair, tan skin, bright blue eyes, and a slender figure.
But how did a Protector from the Land of Zandador end up in Keckrick hiding a Dawn Stalker? Why did she live alone? In a treehouse? Far away from any other people or villages?
How did she become known as a Healer? Where did she get all of her books? Why is a slingshot her weapon of choice?
Those questions and more are answered in this collection of short stories that begin with a four-year-old talkative Taliya and end with a few scenes told from her perspective when she makes her first official appearance in the Dragon Stalker Saga in chapter seventeen of The Dragon Hunter. This novella can be yours for FREE when you become a Dragon Stalker Insider.
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When you become a Dragon Stalker Insider, you’ll get instant access to Young Taliya: Childhood Tales of The Dragon Protector.
You can also expect emails from D.K. Drake that highlight some aspect of the Land of Zandador. It may be about dragons, the human characters involved in the stories, or the world itself.
And as Drake develops each new story, she’ll share with you snippets and previews of what is coming. Better yet, you’ll have a chance to join the Beta Reader Team and enjoy a copy of the next book before it’s published.
Why wait? Become a Dragon Stalker Insider today. It’s FREE to join!
What are
Dragon stalkers?
Dragon Stalkers live in the Land of Zandador, a place where both dragons and men can live anywhere from 700-1000 years. Four types of dragons roam the Land of Zandador: Midnight Stalkers, Dawn Stalkers, Noon Stalkers, and Dusk Stalkers. They eat once a day and are named for the time of day they prefer to eat.
About three hours before their peak feeding time, their scales change from grey or white to their designated colors. If they are not fed before all their scales turn colors, their appetites become insatiable. They will go on a hunting rampage and enjoy feeding on as many humans as they can find.
The Midnight Stalker's scales change from grey to black as midnight approaches. The largest of all the Stalkers, the Midnight stalker grows up to twenty feet, breathes electric bolts, and lives in mountainous territory. This type of stalker is characterized by pointy wings, impressive strength, and high intelligence. Its weakness is loud noise.
The Noon Stalker's scales change from grey to gold as noon approaches. It can grow up to fourteen feet tall, breathes fire, and lives in the jungle. This type of stalker is characterized by round wings, invisibility, and a light-hearted, humorous nature. It's terrified by ants and ladybugs.
The Dawn Stalkers' scales change from white to rainbow colors of red, orange, pink, and purple as dawn approaches. It grows no taller than ten feet, breathes acid, and lives where waterfalls abound. It has no wings and is characterized by its vanity and ability to teleport. It is terrified of winged insects.
The Dusk Stalker's scales change from white to rainbow colors of pink, purple, blue, and green. It grows no taller than ten feet, breathes poison, and lives in the Forest of Crooked Trees. It also has no wings and is characterized by its sensitivity and speed. It is scared of water.
When man couldn’t agree how to coexist with the dragons, four factions developed:
The Collectors believed man should work with dragons and that dragons thrive when given a purpose: to serve and protect man.
The Hunters believed dragons should be enslaved and used as tools to gain power over their fellow man.
The Protectors believed dragons should be free and have no one to look after except themselves, so man should protect the dragons from harm.
The Destroyers believed dragons were dangerous creatures and should be eliminated.
Since these four factions, or Bloodlines, couldn’t agree how to govern, they chose to fight it out.
Whoever collected, hunted, protected, or destroyed each of the four dragons first would assume the throne for 100 years. Then, in the last year of the king’s reign, another Battle for the Throne would ensue to determine who would rule for the next 100 years.
If no one won the Battle, the current ruler would keep the throne for another century. And if dragons were to become extinct while a ruler was on the throne, he would become the King of Zandador for the rest of his life, and his descendants would rule after him.
A Hunter is now on the throne. King Omri has ruled for nearly 500 years and uses his dragons to control every aspect of the people's lives. With dragons on the verge of extinction, he is set to rule for the next 500 years.
But he lives in constant fear of the Prophecy:
The war between the Bloodlines will divide the nation and cause the people to scatter. Many kings will rise to power, but one who masters the dragons and their scales will remain on the throne for centuries. He will rule with a cruel hand, suppress the will of the people, and seek to annihilate all dragons but his own. If hi
s power remains unchecked, he will expand his rule to the world beyond the portal. Gaining control of that world and its resources will allow him to reign for a thousand more years, bringing death and destruction to those who dare defy him.
All hope is not lost. A young Collector whose eyes shine like emeralds and whose ears can hear the thoughts of any dragon will enter the competition in the final months of a Battle for the Throne year. He will be the only one capable of dethroning the king and must collect all four Stalkers by sunset on the final day of the battle year. If he succeeds, however, collecting the four Stalkers will not be enough to defeat the king.
The dethroned king will use his dragons and loyal subjects to wage a war unlike any Zandador has ever seen. The Collector must therefore unite the four opposing Bloodlines, for only the united front of the four Bloodlines led by the young Collector will be strong enough to win a war against this most powerful of men.
If such a war is fought, the outcome thereof will determine the fate of the dragons once and for all.
YOU ARE NOW ENTERING THE LAND OF ZANDADOR…
Prologue
Her eyes flew open the instant the icy hand smothered her mouth. She reached for the knife hidden under her pillow, but the intruder’s other arm latched onto her wrist before she could touch the handle.
“If you want your freedom,” the man whispered in her ear, “don’t fight me.”
Freedom?
Esmeralda froze, and not just because an obnoxiously strong bearded man had her pinned in place on her bed. That was a factor, but as a slave in the palace of the Dark King, freedom was not a general topic of discussion. Any mention of the word got one whipped, as attributed by the scars on her back.
The man spoke again. “Can I trust you to stay quiet?”
Esmeralda studied his hazel eyes. At least she imagined them to be hazel. It was difficult to tell in the small windowless room in the middle of the night. Regardless of their color and despite the lack of light, she could see a sense of urgency in the man’s eyes. That, she trusted. So under the pressure of his hand on her face, she nodded yes.
“Good,” he whispered. “In a second, I’m going to move my hand, pick you up and carry you out of here. All you have to do is stay quiet. Deal?”
She nodded again. He slowly moved his hand away from her mouth.
She wanted to ask for some clothes and shoes. Being hoisted around while wearing only her white nightgown was not her ideal escape outfit, but the idea of freedom was more enticing than her fashion choices. Besides, her only choice was that same drab brown dress that every other woman in the castle was forced to wear day in and day out. So she remained silent.
With seemingly no effort, he picked her up and tossed her tiny frame over his right shoulder. Her long, silky black hair swept the floor as he carried her out of the room and down the long hallway to the windy staircase.
She was expecting to travel up the stairs; they went down instead.
“We’re going down?” She started beating his back with her fists. “Why are we going down? The dungeon is not exactly my idea of freedom.”
“Quiet!” he hissed. “We’re not headed to the dungeon.”
“There’s nothing else down here.” She tried to wiggle off his shoulder, but his grip on her legs was too tight.
Down the stairs they went.
She was beginning to think she had been captured by some lunatic who liked to carry women around the castle in the middle of the night for fun when they at last exited the dizzying staircase, traveled down a creepy hallway and entered a huge oval room.
The sudden burst of light forced her to cover her pale blue eyes.
As the stranger set her on her feet, she began the painful process of blinking to let her eyes adjust to the glowing room. When she could finally see, her eyes were drawn to the brilliant multi-colored circle on the floor in the middle of the room. It was surrounded by a similar rainbow colored three-foot high wall with all kinds of fancy buttons on top of it.
“Where are we?” Esmeralda asked, wandering toward the wall. She stopped halfway there, turning her attention to the stranger instead. “And who are you? Why did you bring me here? What is going on?”
“I don’t have time for long explanations; the guards will be here any minute. I can explain my presence here, but not yours. So I need you to stop asking questions and listen.”
Esmeralda crossed her arms, cocked her head and stared at the stranger. Turns out she was right. He did have hazel eyes. Just like her Dartez.
Actually, a lot about this man reminded her of Dartez. His hazel eyes. His bushy hair. His wide, solid shoulders. His tan skin. His deep voice. Only this man was much older.
“You’re Vince,” she said, summoning every ounce of hatred she’d built up over the last sixteen years. “You’re the family traitor. You’re the reason I was brought here. And you’re the reason Dartez was banished.”
She charged at Vince and pounded the chest of her husband’s grandfather. The tears cascaded down her cheeks as she landed blow after blow.
“Enough!” He grabbed her wrists and pushed her away. She kept trying to hit him anyway. She wasn’t successful. “I did what I had to do back then, just like I’m doing now. This time my loyalty lies with family, not the king. You have to bring Javan home and enter him in the competition for the crown.”
Esmeralda went limp at the mention of her son’s name. No one was supposed to know his name. “I can’t. He died the night he was born.”
Vince dropped her wrists and squeezed her shoulders instead. “Don’t lie to me. I was there that night. I saw my son carry that very live baby boy away on the back of my grandfather’s dragon.”
“You’re mistaken.” Esmeralda had been protecting this secret too long to divulge the truth now. Besides, it wasn’t time. At fifteen, Javan was still too young. “My son is dead.”
“Your son is the only hope the people—and dragons—of Zandador have. I work for the king. I’ve seen his plans. If no one challenges him, and he is allowed to rule for another hundred years, he will wipe out the dragons and their territories and enslave the people in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”
“Only a handful of dragons remain,” Esmeralda said, “and he already controls every aspect of every person’s life throughout the Great Rift. There’s nothing to fear other than more of the same.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. At least now you can think for yourself. Soon that won’t be an option.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t have time to explain.” He picked her up, carried her to the yellow circle, plopped her down and backed away. “You have to get to Javan. You have to enter him in the competition. And he has to win. He’s the one of whom the prophecy speaks.”
Esmeralda’s mouth went dry. “My son is the answer to the prophecy?”
“I knew he was alive.” Vince smiled and started pressing buttons on top of the wall. “I’m sending you to my son Ravier. Since he helped you hide Javan, I’m sure he’ll be able to help you find him. You have six months to find him, train him and help him collect all four Dragon Stalkers while uniting the Bloodlines. If you fail, we all face a fate worse than death.”
“Wait!”
Vince pressed one final button, transporting Esmeralda out of the castle.
Chapter 1
Second String
“S
econd string, coach?” Javan marched into his coach’s tiny office and slammed his helmet into the chair in front of Coach Benton’s desk. “Again?”
The short, stocky coach with the buzzed hair, tight shorts and loud whistle dangling from his neck looked up from his clipboard and sighed. “Javan, you were fantastic in tryouts, and I know you’ve worked hard to put on some muscle in the weight room, but let’s face it: you’re still a stick of a kid. I’m afraid you’ll get hurt if I put you in the starting lineup.”
“I can take a hit,” Javan argued. “I’m tougher than I look, and I know
I look like a skeleton with skin the biology teacher uses as a prop in class. But my leanness makes me agile.”
“Sorry, Javan. Gavin is just a little taller, a little stronger and a little quicker. Until he’s ready to move up to varsity, he’s our starting quarterback.”
“And I’m just second best.” Javan kicked the desk, startling his coach. “Story of my life.”
Before Coach Benton could respond, Javan snatched his helmet and stormed out of the office and into the locker room where he changed out of his practice gear.
One thing. That’s all he wanted. One thing he was great at. One thing he was better at than everyone else. One thing that made him stand out. One thing that made him important. One thing that made him someone.
He wanted throwing a football to be that one thing. He thought about the countless hours he spent this past spring and summer in the weight room and on the field while Gavin sat on his butt playing video games.
Javan was sure his hard work would pay off, that his persistence would beat out Gavin’s lazy talent at the start of their second year of high school. But none of those extra hours of practice got him anywhere in football.
Or with Julianne.
He still couldn’t get that image of his Julianne kissing that egomaniac Gavin when the roster was posted at the end of practice.
Well, she wasn’t exactly his Julianne. In reality, she barely knew his name. She was the popular volleyball player who went for the guys who came in first, not invisible second stringers like him.
It didn’t hurt that Gavin, with his blonde hair, dimples and athletic build, actually looked like a star quarterback. Javan, on the other hand, sported a thin, lanky frame with lousy skin. Pale skin that always burned, never tanned. Facial skin that seemed to stay in a state of perpetual acne breakout.