Page 4 of Dragon Champion (Age of Fire 1)

Anger kills cunning, which you will need to prevail.

A dragon must rest, but Sloth you should dread

Else long years of napping let assassins to your bed.

‘Greed is good,’ or so foolish dragons will say

Until piles of treasure bring killing thieves where they lay.

Hungry is your body, and at times you must feed

But Gluttony makes fat dragons, who can’t fly at their need.

A hot Lust for glory, gems, gold, or mates

Leads reckless young drakes to the blackest of fates.

So take heed of this wisdom, precious hatchling of mine,

And the long years of dragonhood are sure to be thine.

Chapter 2

There weren’t any grays on my side of the family,” Father grumbled.

Larger even than Mother, Father rested on a massive stalagmite, wrapped about it like a constricting snake. His fiery eyes, under the armored ridges that led back to his crest in its six-horned glory, glowered down on the brood. Father’s bronze scales reflected the muted aqua light of the cave moss.

To little Auron, Father had a harsh, intimidating odor, very different from Mother’s comforting one. He tucked his head into his gray flank, a little afraid at Father’s tone, but resisted the instinct to close his eyes.

“You know very well my father was a gray, AuRel. When I sang my lineage at our mating, it didn’t bother you.”

Father pulled back, raised his mighty neck high, and snorted. For a moment it looked to Auron as if he might bite Mother.

But he brought his head down and flicked his forked tongue, drawing it across her face. “I was watching your wings, my love. They hypnotized me. I had never seen such a span on a maiden before. I hardly listened.”

His parents touched noses at the memories evoked, and Auron heard a low thrumming.

“We have every right to prumm to each other—three on the shelf. Not bad for our first clutch,” Mother said. She pulled Auron’s two sisters closer to her with her tail. The hatchlings peeped and yawned at the touch, but didn’t wake.

“But still, of all the infernal drafts,” Father continued. “A red, a copper, and a gray. What happens? The red is killed, the copper is maimed, and the gray has the nest!”

“The red fought well, my lord. Just too eager, impetuous. He left the copper without finishing it.”

“Just like his grandfather, darkness keep his bones. A besung dragon, he. I still don’t see how a gray got the better of him or the copper.”

“He used his egg horn, my lord.”

“He did what?”

“Gutted him from the yolk sac up. I hardly believed my eyes.”

Father looked down at Auron, a new interest in his eyes. “Clever little blighter.”

“Eggs and legs! Don’t call the pride of our clutch a blighter, AuRel! Like it or not, he is your champion. It’s for you to see that he lives to loose his first fire.”

“I wonder . . . ,” Father mused. “A gray. Thin skinned: the first elf with a bow that—”

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