The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns by Jason R Jones

Author:Jason R Jones [Jones, Jason R]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: CreateSapce
Published: 2011-10-13T05:00:00+00:00

Gwenneth II:I

Soujan Mountain, Harlaheim

The wind was whipping her dark hair all over, then it would stop as Ansharr raised her wings. That moment of stillness where the air seemed to wait inbetween the updraft and the downbeat of dark red dragon wings put the wizard of Vallakazz at calm and ease. She heard Lord Cristoff spitting her hair out from his lips every opportunity he could and also heard Saberrak groaning and growling when the descent would drop quickly or turn sharp. Gwenneth stared out over the pines and hills that stretched out from the mountains, taking in the view that none but the creatures of the sky could ever see. Birds circled below her instead of above, she looked down upon valleys and roads from the scaly back of the old dragon, and felt a bit of inspiration and wonderment for the first time in many, many years.

The dark robed prodigal daughter of the arcane gripped the redwood staff of Imoch tightly, feeling the power it contained gently flowing in tune with her pulse. She tried to read the top set of draconic runes near the embedded emerald, but they merely glowed a deep red as she stared at them. The language was not one that she could simply try and guess at, the deciphering would take some time. Gwenne looked up and down the staff, noting five circular sets of engravings that she knew meant five different arcane powers that were imbued into the ancient and mighty gift. Her staff had two, which was the most any master student ever could achieve with years of study in enchanting such items. Middir, her mother Aelaine, and Kalzarius had three powerful sets of glyphs engraved on theirs, but she had never seen any wizard with four, let alone five. Gwenne surmised that Imoch must have been a very potent and wise master of the arts indeed.

Her hand kept tight on the leathery ridge that protruded from the spine of scales on Ansharr’s back. Her, the armored lord, and the gray minotaur were set between the wings of the enormous dragon and felt safe there as the fluid and rhythmic strokes kept them on a gentle glide through the Harlaheim sky. She would have to yell to speak to Ansharr, as her neck was at least fifty feet ahead, turning from left to right, surveying their flight and the area around them. Gwenneth felt the tap of a gloved hand on her shoulder as the air whooshed once more around her from the mighty beating of hundred foot long wings. She turned her neck halfway to at least hear what Cristoff wanted, as she did not feel all too comfortable turning completely around her first time on the back of a dragon and still a thousand feet in the air.

“My lady of Lazlette, may I inquire-“

“Call me Gwenne please, Lord Cristoff of Saint Erinsburg.” she said it sharply to the esteemed veteran soldier. She hated the formality that carried with her

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