Chapter 1

Halting his pony on top of the highest hill in the Dragons’ Peaks range, Lazarone stared pensively over his beloved land. Although it looked as lovely as ever, at that moment he was aware of an uneasy feeling that under the surface something was hideously wrong.

     In the middle distance the Forest of Argentsiana dominated all, its vast canopy covering hills and valleys alike in a mantle more silver than green. The day was so clear he could even make out the snow-clad tops of the land’s only mountain range. One peak, shrouded in strange legends, was rumoured to stand head and shoulders above the others—but try as he might he knew even his keen eyes would never be able to separate it from its neighbours.  For Geheimberg, said to be sacred to the Goddess Lazaria, was so well hidden by an ancient and long-forgotten spell that no one had ever seen it.

   Lazarone’s musings were abruptly cut off by something very large falling from the sky in the near distance. “Oh, look, Egrian—hunters have killed a dragon!”

     But the gimlet eyes of the eaglet on his shoulder had already seen the terrible poisoned arrows strike their target and had marked the spot where the dragon fell.

     “It’s Ravenwing, the queen,” he answered in his parrot-like voice. “And I heard she’d laid some eggs—but they won’t hatch without her.” He turned his head to fix the fierce stare of his huge golden eyes on his master. “Why can’t human kind understand the dragons won’t harm them if they don’t harm the dragons?” He blinked, the fierceness rapidly changing to a pleading aspect. “Will you help her with your healing magic—please, Highness?”

     Lazarone knew the noble bird would never lead him into danger—especially as, using his inherited skills as a Ruling Healer, he had once saved Egrian’s life. So, with nothing but the young eagle’s word that the dragons really weren’t the ferocious creatures portrayed in recent history books, he answered without hesitation, “Of course—if she’s still alive. Besides, I’ve never seen a dragon close up.”

     Lazarone rode down the hill as fast as he dared. He dismounted some distance from the dragon to avoid panicking the pony, tethered the reins to a tree and strode forward, outwardly as bold as the warrior of his imaginary battles but inwardly trembling—for he knew a fire-breathing monster such as he was about to face could reduce a human to a ball of flame in seconds. And it wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.

     However, when they reached Ravenwing it was obvious she was beyond Lazarone’s still immature healing skills: she could barely raise her head, let alone breathe fire at him. Taking his first look into the alien eyes of the most feared creature roaming Lazaronia’s wilds, Lazarone caught his breath at the sheer beauty of their jewelled, ruby depths. And the pain and sorrow in them sent through him a surge of raging grief whose intensity astonished him.

     Egrian was right. As soon as he became King he would stop this monstrous, senseless slaughter!

     Only that was many long years away…

     But Ravenwing was speaking. “Leave me to die. It’s the eggs that matter now—all that’s left of my species. Two are mine. Two belong to Silverwing … killed yesterday.” He heard the dragon’s effortful words only in his head but had no time to wonder how come so fearsome a creature could use a skill normally possessed only by sorcerers. For next moment she filled his mind with visions of where she had hidden the eggs and how to reach them…

     Ravenwing stopped repeating her directions only when sure he understood. Then, flooding his mind with the sound of a dragon’s hatching song, she got him to mimic her until satisfied he had it right. “You’ll need Esmeralda. Trust no one but Esmeralda. Do everything—”

      But Ravenwing had spent her last drop of energy; her eyes abruptly dulled in death.