Doughall Maxton heads into the unknown, rocky terrain west of his clan home in search of his brother, Seumas, who is a scholar coerced into traveling by a silver-tongued herald. Needing to be certain he remains well, Doughall uses his tracking skills to follow him. He finds a massive burned out area and tracks he’s never before seen. Following the strange markings, he comes to a river crossing and stumbles upon a blue…dragon. Doughall does what any warrior would do. He attacks. The beast traps him, but doesn’t kill him. Instead, he talks, calling himself Simeon, and offers his aid. What the dragon wants in return shocks Doughall, but he’s not completely opposed to the beast’s desires. Still, Simeon is a dragon, a creature Doughall had never known existed. Could he be trusted?
Reader Advisory: This story is best read as part of a series.
Simeon froze in shock upon seeing a massively muscled highlander brandishing a sword at him. In the next instant, he gathered his wits and dodged the human’s swing. He ducked his sinewy body under the blade as he skittered sideways along the muddy embankment.
Thinking quickly, Simeon tried to decide what a black or gray dragon would do. The black caste of dragons acted as heralds and spies for their hidden valley home as well as their army outside the valley, so they were well versed in combat. The gray dragon caste guarded the valley as sentries, either killing, capturing, or diverting any strangers who drew close to their home.
Being a blue dragon, he wasn’t a fighter. He was a historian, a gatherer of knowledge. He wasn’t even supposed to be out there. Still, he knew a thing or two about combat. All dragons were taught as hatchlings.
As Simeon dodged another swing of the massive highlander’s blade, searching for an opening to use his tail and knock the human off his feet, he struggled with what to do. The male seemed quite set on killing him, but he smelled so damn good.
The scent marked him as an asda, a human capable of bonding with a dragon. Those humans were rare and highly prized, and Simeon didn’t think he could bring himself to kill him. He also couldn’t just fly away and leave him behind. The man would spread rumors of Simeon’s kind, which would be a very bad thing.
That meant capturing the highlander and educating him.
Well, I am a historian. I certainly have the knowledge to teach him. But how to get the chance?
Simeon circled the highlander, noting the stream at the edge of his vision. An idea formed. He just had to—
Seeing the sword coming in a downward strike, Simeon hoped this would work. He spread his forelegs, which were also his wings, and jumped at an angle. Twisting and turning in the air, he narrowly avoided the sword from hitting one of his wings. At the same time, he swung his club-like tail and slammed it into the big warrior’s chest.
The highlander grunted and stumbled back several steps. When his booted feet hit the muddy embankment, he slipped, sending him crashing into the water. Almost instantly, he leaped back to his feet.
Taking advantage of the human’s position, Simeon banked his inner fire and blew out a stream of freezing air. The water around the highlander’s feet froze. The man grunted, trying to pull his feet from the ice encasing them, not allowing him to move.
“Gotta few tricks up yer sleeve, do ye lizard?” the highlander snarled, lifting the sword defensively. “Well, come on then. Attack me and allow me to skewer ye on me blade.”
A shaft of annoyance spiked through Simeon as he landed on the bank, well out of striking range. “I am not a lizard,” he snapped, scowling at the human. “I am a dragon.”