Here be Dragons.
Today I have a tiny excerpt from my forthcoming book
Serving the Serpent.
In Wales, Ceridwyn takes up her inherited duty to care for the dragons in the mountains. Awed by them and the huge book about them, she is determined to prove her worth.
Far away in Norway, Leif has growing concerns for his sick dragon. He discovers only one cure will stop his dragon’s suffering. The mighty Herensuge must journey to find his bonded mate.
When they meet, Ceri and Leif make combined efforts to aid the dragons and discover an astonishing surprise. The great lore book each of them protects tells they have a responsibility to the future. At this rare and magical time, not only the dragon pairing must occur.
Join Ceri and Leif as they work to keep the sworn silence and keep the dragons safe. Friendship is growing between them, but will it be enough? Can love blossom between two chosen to serve the serpent?
Click the cover to pre-order
Serving the Serpent.
A choke rattled at the back of Heren’s throat. This young stripling would aid him. They’d been together for such a short time. He liked the lad well enough, but if Olaf had been here, this sudden threat wouldn’t have held so much power and made him quake. Olaf would have laughed and told him a bawdy joke. The old Derskijoar, he’d have known exactly what to do. Hiding his fears, he spoke to the youth.
“You have sworn to honor your word, and I thank you, boy. We will begin the search tomorrow. Go home now and prepare for a journey. We must cross the northern waters, for my bonded mate does not live in this land of ours.”
Leif flashed him a mischievous grin. “You don’t look very pleased about the situation, my lord. I would have thought you might be.”
Heren shook his head. “No, boy, for if the search for her is unsuccessful, my life may well be forfeit, and it is many years since my mate’s scent wound its way to me. I may well be alone, the last of my kind. My mate…” Ah, his mate…A fresh-risen memory crept over him, and sorrowful, he let out a loud sigh. Dark cloudy smoke rings issued from his lips and swirled up toward the roof of the cavern.
“Oh, great Odin, help me,” Leif said. He pressed a button and stopped the music from his machine. “Tell you what, Heren, why don’t you make up a real sad song about it all? Maybe something like the lonely dragon blues?”
“Impertinent brat! Olaf would never have suggested such a thing.”
“Yeah, but my uncle had no ear for music.”
He frowned. “Are you suggesting my melodies are lacking in subtly? Do my compositions not please the ear?”
Leif shook his head as he packed the priceless Derskijoar book into its casing. “No, no,” he said. “I’d say the last time you actually studied any tunes it must have been some time about the 1450s. Music has moved on since then. You liked the blues when I played you the Robert Johnson recordings. I thought it would be good for you to make a song of your own. You know something like, times is hard when you ain’t got no dragon gal.”
“Facetious, ridiculous lout. My life is endangered by this appalling pairing fervor, and all you can think of is such nonsense. Go, now. Be here tomorrow in the dawn. We will consult the maps, the tide and wind charts, and moon phases too. Time is of the essence.”