Return of the Dragon of Chaos by AMY WOLF

Author:AMY WOLF
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dragon, dragons, fantasy, magic, myth, mythology, fantasy romance, fantasy adventure, Amy Wolf, Spinners of Time
Publisher: Lone Wolf Press Ltd.
Published: 2023-03-16T00:00:00+00:00

Three Cowardly Ebrens

“Abarōz,” said Shāhpuhr as their wound their way down the path. “Do not get your hopes up. Untamed ebrens who oppose Bükrek are more likely to be Sangal’s.”

Abarōz nodded, though her spark of hope still sizzled. After all, she and Shāhpuhr spoke Dragon, and they could be quite persuasive. Instead of resenting their journey, she looked forward to what they might find.

When they came upon a clear stream, Shāhpuhr refilled his skin, popping a handful of berries. Just as he bent to examine some mushrooms, he tilted his head.

“Hear that?” he whispered.

Abarōz listened as hard as she could.

“No.”

“Ebrens. About a Hamwar away.”

As they crept down the path, trying not to stir pebbles, Abarōz thought she heard something. After more fraught steps, she recognized the sound as the roar of dragons!

“Shhh.”

Shāhpuhr put a finger to his lips as the roars became hissing. Now the path ahead lit up with orange. Flames. They must not be far off.

She turned to Shāhpuhr with a smile, clutching his shoulder as they made their way toward the rumbling. Peering through thick leaves, they spied what to Abarōz was a welcome sight: three ebrens—red, pale blue, and pink—resting on a flat stretch of dirt and conversing amongst themselves.

“How long do we have to stay here?” yawned the blue one.

“Until Sangal beats Bükrek’s butt,” the orange said.

The two collapsed in laughter.

“But will Sangal be mad that we didn’t join his horde?” the pink asked, clearly practical.

“He’ll have so much to do killing Dardans he won’t have time to think about us.”

With a loll of his tongue, the blue ended the discourse.

Abarōz, excited despite their allegiance, ran out of the woods toward them. Behind her she heard a frantic, “NO!”

Emerging into the clearing, Abarōz found herself the object of three staring sets of eyes. In a way, they reminded her of Yelbegen, but if she sprouted seven heads, the ebrens before her could not be more surprised.

“Greetings!” Abarōz called in Dragon.

“What have we here?” hissed the pink, slithering closer. “A girl! Alone in the forest? Even speaking our tongue!”

“Not alone,” cried Shāhpuhr, crashing to her side. “I am the son of Bükrek, and my friend is the Şahmeran. Treat us kindly and we will not harm you.”

The pale blue snorted, almost choking on his own smoke.

“You threaten us?” he asked. “We can scorch you into cinder!”

“True” said Shāhpuhr calmly, “but then you risk the wrath of my mother.”

“Why should we care?” roared the red. To Abarōz, he looked like a shorter Sangal. “The Dragon of Light has driven us from our natural home. And brought the filthy Erbörü!”

“What did they do to you?” asked Abarōz. “Was it not the Southern ebrens who attacked them?”

“No matter!” the pink screamed. “They have defiled our land!”

Abarōz rolled her eyes.

How many times did she have to hear claims like this?

“The reason they left Abaxtar—” she began.

“They should have stayed there!” snarled the blue, “and you along with them. I hate that Bükrek and would relish killing her son!”

Abarōz didn’t know how she did it.

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