Steeped in blood. Ruled by those with dragons.
Cimeren is a world divided by a mysterious forest and the vast Lake on Fire. Suspicion brews on both sides, and the south has fallen into chaos as battles and quarrels rage between kingdoms.
In the border outpost of Nevergrace, Cyran Orendain is dealing with the loss of his brother and his lord as he strives to face the mounting challenges of a squire of the dragonguard.
But when Cyran’s guard-master is called to face the most powerful of the southern kings and bear witness to a secret stolen from the north, Cyran is dragged into a war that has been bubbling under the surface for centuries.
Dragons are not only weapons—they are engines of war. And even though Cyran is not trained in the ways of the dragonguard, he must adapt and learn to become one of them or his homeland and all of Cimeren will be destroyed.
But he was not born a champion.
He may break, and he will bleed.
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Through Blood and Dragons was just released and it already has 28 ratings 4.9 stars. I just got my copy and look forward to reading it. It’s the first book in The Forged and The Fallen series.
Grab your copy on Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/Through-Blood-Dragons-Fantasy-Forged-ebook/dp/B0C6L1SV2D/
***
Here is an excerpt from the novel:
Turin clenched his mounted crossbow as the dragon beneath him swooped over the peaks. The frigid wind of the north blasted his face and clawed at his blond hair and beard before streaming his cloak out behind him.
Sir Mirell, the dragonguard seated just behind the rose dragon’s head, released a cry of alarm. The newly appointed dragonmage behind Mirell peeked around the guard’s massive armor and shield and angled their flying mount closer to the scene. Their dragon screamed over the slopes, skimming just above rock and ice.
“There!” Mirell pointed.
Below, on the pass, the Murgare king—with his gold and platinum crown—hurried along beside his queen. Several dragons lay dead around them, as did a field of armored men.
The king’s massive ice dragon shrieked, an echoing blast that rang the surrounding peaks and rolled away into the north. The dragon flapped wings like curtains of frozen leather as the king and queen rushed for their saddles.
Distant calls sounded, those of man and dragon.
“Another of their legions will be arriving soon,” Sir Mirell shouted back as their dragon wheeled over a ravine. “Make sure the king does not escape.”
Turin pivoted his crossbow around in its frame atop their dragon’s back, the harness anchoring him to the quarterdeck biting into his legs and waist. Their rose dragon’s wings lifted and then fell, leaving Turin with an unobstructed view of the ice dragon.
After swiveling his crossbow by subtler degrees and slighter angles than before, he sighted down the steel shaft of the dragonbolt. He squeezed the trigger handle toward the tiller. The crossbow’s rope snapped forward, and the bolt launched and whistled as it knifed through the air.
A thud sounded as the bolt impaled the pure white scales of the ice dragon’s chest. The dragon roared and threw its head back, spewing its frozen breath into the sky as Turin’s dragon sailed nearer.
“One bolt is not enough to stop such a beast,” Turin muttered to himself. “Unless it was a perfect shot.”
Their rose dragon shielded its riders from the blast of icy breath, and they whipped around for another pass. The force of the turn threw Turin outward toward the open sky, but his harness and anchored bootstraps pulled him back to the quarterdeck.
Distant shouting from dragons and men grew louder. And closer.
“Hurry, now!” Sir Mirell shouted.
Turin retrieved another dragonbolt and wound the windlass, which drew the crossbow’s rope back. The metal arms of the crossbow creaked with tension as he glanced in the direction of the tumult and approaching legion. Still nothing by sky and clouds showed above the peaks.
The rose dragon’s wings lifted again and obscured Turin’s view of most of the world. Then their mount seemed to drop out from underneath him, and they plunged downward. Turin’s stomach catapulted up into his throat as his harnesses yanked him down with the plummeting beast.
The crossbow cocked, its rope locking into place, and the windlass lever in Turin’s hand stopped turning. Ahead, Sir Mirell angled his dragonlance as they plunged toward the pass.
The Murgare king held his queen by the arm, and they raced along, almost to their dragon’s side now. The ice dragon whipped its head about and roared, exposing the back of its neck. A dragonmage was not seated on the king’s beast.
Without their mage, the royals won’t be able to guide their mount. “We may yet be able to capture both the Murgare king and queen.” Turin grinned ruefully as he angled his crossbow downward and pivoted to track his target points on the writhing ice dragon.
