The Stones of Home: What Cost Freedom? by Rowan Oliver Ward Utting

Author:Rowan Oliver Ward Utting
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Alamard language (invention), Author 16 year old, author's working illustrations, bardic, Debut novel, dragons, elves, fantasy, fiction, freedom, goblins, grammar, Ireland, lexicon, literary, mages of Haven, magic, NZ fiction, poetry, Scotland, songs, tigerwolves, Young adult
Publisher: Lambton Publishing
Published: 2015-05-23T05:33:12+00:00

18. Food and the Brood

The beams of the rising sun fell on Ipus’ closed eyes. She squeezed them shut, and rolled over—onto a dragon. Harhounn had ventured inside via the window, which had been left open, and lay down beside the warmest thing he could find. Ipus picked him up and carried him outside as she opened the curtains.

Unlike most reptiles, dragons only laid one or two eggs at a time. Also unlike most reptiles, dragons cared for their eggs. Any egg that a dragon lays and incubates is almost guaranteed to survive to adulthood. With the help of Ipus, the hatchlings grew fast, ate well and learned quickly. Harhounn hopped and flapped over to Galhaea, and nosed his way under her wing.

“Wake up,” said Ipus, shaking Cragill by the shoulder. He rolled over, but as he was sleeping on a couch, he hit the floor with a thud.

“Blargh. Why?”

“Sunrise is breakfast time. Get up, I’m hungry.”

The Mage of Stone rose unsteadily to his feet and sat down at the small table. “You could have started without me.”

“Guests first, and I always rise with the sun. That way, there’s more time to eat breakfast before the dragons warm up enough.” She handed Cragillahan a steaming bowl of porridge. It was far more than it seemed, though, because it had dark chocolate chips melting into the mixture, as well as cinnamon and rum-soaked raisins. She ladled herself one, and sat down opposite him. “It’s porridge for breakfast because it’s the only things the dragons refuse to eat—anyone looking for bacon and eggs around here will have to fight a dragon for it—though I do eat well when they hunt.”

“What is there around here to hunt?”

There’s some rabbits, some more rabbits, and of course I cannot leave out rabbits.”

“You and your rabbitting on.”

“There’s not much else up here, except a few deer in the woods. The smaller dragons are quite good at hunting them, though. Birds too, but they’re too fast and small for a dragon to bother. I hunt them with my crossbow.”

“At least they aren’t breeding like rabbits,” said Cragill, pointing out the window.

“Dragons are beautiful, but they’re also big. They’re not meant to prey on rodents; large animals are better. Deer, moose, elk.”

“So why do you live here, in Ireland?”

“It’s safe, it’s warm enough, and I don’t like snow.”

“Who said anything about snow? Large animals can live in lots of places. England has a few, and you could move to somewhere like Africa, even though that’s not part of the Irish Haven.”

“Too hot, too dangerous. Even though we’re the only remnants of any Haven left, I wouldn’t want to move anyway. I was born here, or rather became a Mage here. It’s just that this place is the hub of magic. If you control Ireland, then you control the world.”

“And if Futhuulkor takes over Ireland, we’re doomed.”

“The point of Haven was to protect and govern magic.”

“Haven is gone, but we’re still here.”

“Four people, trying to protect a nation—no, the world.

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