Chapter one created
a minor derailment though. The author introduces one of the
characters who will be the focus of the story. Cyran’s first
chapter unfortunately threw me out of the story. The chapter came off
as the author was trying to find their stride and missed a step. The
truth is, the author was looking to give readers a touch of
background on Cyran. To give readers some idea of an average day
around the keep. It may not be the most fascinating part of the
story, but just hang in there.
When the story
transitions to another character, Sirra, I nearly come unglued. She
is absolutely going to be the character who grabs you and keeps you
the most engaged in the story. Sirra is called the DragonQueen, and
the title is perfect in its definition of her. She epitomizes the
extent of her gifts when it comes to the dragons. This is exemplified
when she uses an aspect of her gift in her first chapter. Cue mind
blown and eyes popping. Sirra is a mind-blowing character that truly
brings the magic element to life in this book. But she does more than
just that. The author chooses Sirra to be the character who showcases
the depth of being one of the strongest dragonmages.
This story isn’t
Sirra’s story though, so let’s not get too obsessed with her (too
late! LOL). There are other characters that the author chooses to
gift with some pretty wicked talents as well. Pravon the Dragon thief
has a rather dangerous companion with some rather insidious skills.
This companion draws a touch of ire and guilt from his companions,
but not much else. You get the strong sense that while they may
disapprove of his actions, they won’t do much in actually acting
against him.
This dynamic fantasy
novel would not be complete with all of its drama if it didn’t
have some heartbreak and the author’s desire to bring a couple of
tears to your eyes. Because you get the sense that somewhere off the page
some character said “Things can’t get any worse, right?” Well,
they do! Shame on that character for saying those fateful words! When
will they ever learn?! LOL! Cyran is put into a position of having to
do something that he has little to no desire to do, but do it he
must. The entire scene that plays out is heartbreaking but has a
touch of beauty to it.
One aspect of this
book that readers are going to really appreciate is the twists! The
author throws quite a few in there. There is something in the forest
outside of the keep. What is it? What does it want? What was the
thing that compelled Cyran’s sister to hold onto that decanter that
she was given? The questions are RAMPANT in this book, and the desire
to keep digging for answers will be part of what drives you to keep
reading.
This book
effectively details the fight that is threatening an entire nation,
and the pain that will rock all who are impacted by it. But the
author also showcases how Cyran must and does grow throughout this
story. His dream of being a dragon knight must become something more
– a quest for survival, and the desire to protect.
Book Information:
Through Blood
and Dragons by R.M. Schultz
Series: The Forged and
the Fallen
Genre: Epic Fantasy
Intended Age
Group: 16+
Pages: 510
Published: July 31,
2023
Publisher: Sky Sea and Sword Publishing (Self
Published)
Content/Trigger
Warnings:
Shown on Page
(things clearly told to the reader):
Alluded to
(things only mentioned in passing or hinted at):
Book
Blurb:
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.
See
Also:
A
Game of Dragons • If the Millenium Falcon was a Dragon • Top Gun:
Dragon
Book
Links:
Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C6L1SV2D
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/167700156-through-blood-and-dragons
EXCERPT:
Sirra
Brackenglave
Sirra’s
muscles tensed as hard as stone as she stood, forcing herself to
control her breathing and her anger. Murgare
cannot respond fast enough to what has happened.
A
member of the onyx guard clasped on her armor. The blackened
dragonsteel and the spikes protruding at her elbows and shoulders, in
addition to those running along her back, felt as if they pulsed with
a rage all their own. Torchlight wavered around her and fell across
her armor, creating a dance of shadow and orange light.
“Strike
a swift blow,” Sir Trothen said as he stroked his gray beard and
paced about, watching the onyx guard prepare Sirra for battle. “Free
the king’s unavenged soul and reclaim the queen, but—”
“The
war will come later,” Sirra finished for him. “Do not worry
yourself, Sir Trothen. I will not attempt to destroy all of
Belvenguard simply to gut their king in retaliation. At least not
yet. I will save some of that for you.”
Trothen,
the genturion of the dragonguard at Northsheeren, nodded. His hand
ran down over his own dragonguard armor—plates of steel forged with
dragon scales. “I fear for the queen’s safety.”
“I
promise you that she will not have to remain with her captors long.”
“And
which route shall you take?” Sir Trothen handed Sirra her
longsword, sheathed in its black metal casing.
An
unsettling sensation recurred in the back of Sirra’s mind. Someone
had informed Belvenguard where her king would be on Breather’s
Pass, and when. They must have. This person probably also passed
along information about how many dragons and onyx guard would be
escorting him.
“The
legions can cross the Lake on Fire when the time comes, but I will
not fly that way,” Sirra replied. “Galvenstone will long see us
coming. And our dragons will not find adequate rest on the water.”
Sirra grasped her sword’s hilt, and heat flowed through the
dragonsteel and her gauntlet. She strapped the blade across her back.
“But
you would not fly so far west as to pass through the spires,” Sir
Trothen said. “Even if the mountains offer a place for rest, the
route will not keep you hidden once you sweep east to Galvenstone.”
Sirra
grabbed her barbed helm with its black visor from the guard and
settled it over her head. Only her long brown hair would show beyond
her armor, but no one needed that to recognize her, the Dragon Queen
of Murgare.
“And
passing over the marshes would hardly conceal you either,” Trothen
continued.
Sirra
turned and paced down a winding tunnel inside Northsheeren Castle.
Torches guttered as she passed, and Trothen’s slapping footfalls
trailed her.
“The
spires and the marshes would be foolish routes for even the onyx
guard, once they are assembled,” Sirra said. “It would either
take months to bring war upon King Igare, or our legions would
eventually become fossilized in the bogs.”
“Igare
will be expecting retaliation. And swiftly. Belvenguard must already
be preparing for war.”
“Then
let them prepare. Nothing will stop my coming now. Nor the coming of
the north. And they will not expect any of us so soon.”
Moonlight
stole in through a crater of an opening in the mountain ahead and
created a pool of silver light where others had gathered. A group of
armored men and women and four dragons waited silently. But another
beast lay hidden in the darkness, and that beast was almost too large
to fit inside the cavern.
A
man adorned in a silver robe hurried up to Sirra, holding out a hand
for her to stop. “Dragon Queen, you must slow your—”
“Vördelth
mrac ell duenvÃe!”
Sirra roared, using the voice of the dragon. A surge of power
catapulted through her and streamed past her lips. Her words blasted
through the cavern and hammered against its stone walls.
The
man in silver fell onto his side and twitched, clutching his head and
whimpering. Everyone else in the chamber clutched their ears and
stumbled, wobbling about or leaning against the nearest object for
support.
A
scaled head shifted in the shadows, and a red eye nearly the size of
a man flicked open to regard Sirra.
“Take
this man to his quarters and revive him.” Sirra gestured to the man
in silver. “Now is not the time for discussion. Nor the time to
attempt to change my mind.”
Two
onyx guards tentatively approached, their steps unsteady as they
scooped up the man and dragged his limp body away.
Sir
Vladden—his face hidden behind his black visor and only his ranking
of three ice dragon scales on his left breast narrowing down the
possibilities of whom he could be—nodded as he cautiously
approached Sirra from the assembled dragonguard. His steps were slow,
and he could only manage to shuffle along, a result of Sirra having
to use the dragon voice in this chamber.
“Shadowmar
is nearly ready,” Sir Vladden said.
“She
is quiet.” Sirra approached the shadows along the side of the
cavern.
The
titanic dragon concealed itself there in the darkness, and Sirra ran
a hand along her glistening black scales. Sirra’s palm tingled, and
the feeling crept up her arm. She felt the beast’s soul nudge hers.
Energy and knowledge and wisdom bloomed inside her. The dragon’s
web within its nearly lost realm, the way these magnificent creatures
saw the mortal world and how they interacted with it, crystalized in
Sirra’s mind. All people other than the dragonmages and the
dragonknights—who were only a rare few—considered such things
magic. The vibrations of her speaking with the dragon voice still
reverberated in the other realm.
“We
fly this night,”
Sirra said in her mind to Shadowmar.
The
dragon did not reply. Only the sensation of seething rage answered
Sirra.
“She
is eager,” Sirra said to those around her. “Shadowmar knows what
we seek.”
The
colossal black dragon blew out a slow breath that rattled the air all
around the chamber, and she lifted her head, one of her eyelids
slipping open to reveal a blood-red eye with a slitted pupil.
Shadowmar shifted her weight, and her scales rippled and rolled over
muscle and around the base of ebony spikes that protruded near all
the joints on her rear legs and wings as well as along the base of
her head and back.
“Your
steeds and archers are ready?” Sirra asked Vladden.
“Yes,
Dragon Queen.”
“Have
them mount up.”
Sirra
tugged at the underside of Shadowmar’s harnesses, the ones that
held the upper archer’s quarterdeck to her back, and she checked
all its straps. Everything was bound tightly to Shadowmar’s torso.
Three archers already stood behind their mounted crossbows on the
dragon’s back—one crossbow on each side and one to the rear—all
belted in and waiting. Yenthor, Sirra’s hulking archer, nodded to
her and held a fist aloft, his black armor almost making him appear
as another spine protruding from Shadowmar’s back.
Sirra
strode past the frames of the lower turrets, which had not yet been
belted into place. Zaldica and another archer waited beside their
poled turrets, both armored in black, their excitement and yearning
for revenge sheeting off them and threading into the dragon realm.
“We
will avenge the king,” Zaldica said as Sirra passed. “And his
soul will escape torment.”
Sirra
examined the turrets and reached up and placed a palm on Shadowmar’s
underbelly. “It is time to rise, my beast,” she said only to her
mount.
Shadowmar
shifted again, and a taloned foot snapped out from beneath her bulk
and slapped onto the stone floor. The dragon groaned and heaved as
her belly rose. The spines on her back jabbed into the ceiling.
“That
is far enough,” Sirra said to Shadowmar. Then to Zaldica, she said,
“Secure the turrets.”
Zaldica
nodded, and she and the archer beside her quickly but smoothly passed
several belts through loops in the harness for the upper quarterdeck.
When they cinched everything down, the turrets were lifted off the
ground and hung suspended from Shadowmar’s underbelly. The archers
climbed inside the poled frames and strapped themselves in behind
their mounted crossbows.
Sirra
approached her saddle, which was positioned and fastened behind
Shadowmar’s head. Her lance of shimmering black dragonsteel waited
in its mount, the steel plate at the lance’s base flaring before
the handle she’d held so many times.
“It
has been too long,” Sirra whispered as she ran her fingers over the
weapon’s shaft. “And yet not long enough.”
Sir
Vladden mounted his ice dragon, whose scales shone as white as fresh
snow under the torchlight. A hunched woman in a cloak climbed up the
ice dragon’s neck and sat in the saddle behind the dragonguard. All
of the woman, including her black cloak, disappeared behind Vladden’s
shield, the crest of two rampant shadow dragons emblazoned on the
shield’s face. Only the dragonmage’s twisted staff remained
partially visible.
“But
Dragon Queen, you cannot hope to fly through the Evenmeres.” Sir
Trothen finally caught up with Sirra after her use of the dragon
voice, his armor rattling in his wake. “There is no safe route
through the cursed woods. And no path is wide enough to allow your
dragons to safely pass through.”
Sirra
remained silent as she considered her options. Much of the trees of
the Evenmeres rose half a league into the sky, into the clouds, and
their crowns neared the sky sea. Attempting to pass over them would
force their dragons into too high of an altitude, where the air was
too thin for most dragons. It would also be an unduly long journey.
That forest was the size of an entire kingdom. There would be no safe
place to rest during the crossing or before initiating their attack.
This had all happened suddenly, which did not allow adequate time for
planning, and Galvenstone was well fortified. Belvenguard’s capital
city would be prepared by the time the Dragon Queen’s small legion
arrived.
Sirra
dismissed her doubts. She would discover her path as she went, as
always. “I will return with the queen.” Sirra climbed into her
saddle and settled into her seat.
The
four dragonguard and their four mages waited silently for her
command.
“Then
you must go over the lake,” Trothen said. “Once you reach our
shores, if you wait and depart at nightfall and fly swiftly, you may
cross much of the distance before daybreak. Then, during the light
hours, you can skim low over the waters or rest upon them for as many
days as you need while you time your assault.”
“The
watchtowers at Galvenstone will still be able to spot dragons as
large as these filling the moonlit skies,” a voice said, and a man
in a mauve cloak strode forward, using his staff to aid him. His face
was hidden within the shadows of his draping hood. A cone of purple
flame rose from his palm and lit the caverns in a deep shade hardly
brighter than the darkness.
Luminsteir.
The conjuror and sorcerer of Northsheeren. His power was not from the
dragon realm. His bone and earth magic flowed from somewhere else.
Another man walked behind the conjuror, a man as tall as Restebarge,
the former king. Oomaren, the king’s brother.
“She
means to go by way none would expect.” Oomaren folded his arms
across his chest. His scarred cheek and eye formed a permanent snarl
on his face.
“But
even flying farther out over the Eventide Sea and sweeping back
inland would provide no more benefit than taking the spires,”
Trothen said as he scrutinized Sirra.
“I
meant she will travel by way everyone assumes would be too obvious of
a route to actually take,” Oomaren said. “She will have to pass
many sentinels and soldiers.”
Trothen
ran a hand over his gray beard, and the hairs rasped against his
gauntlet. He studied Oomaren.
Sirra
remained silent as she glanced about. The feeling that someone who
shouldn’t be listening but was rattled the bars of some cage in the
back of her mind. She’d assumed it had been Astenor, the king’s
orator and man in the silver robes, but now she doubted her prior
suspicions. Either way, this traitor would be found, and the onyx
guard would have their way with them. Her attention settled on the
cavern opening.
“Avenge
my brother,” Oomaren said to Sirra.
“I
will,” Sirra replied. “For you as well as for your niece, who
shall become the new Queen of Murgare if anything should befall our
current queen before I am able to save her.”
The
unscarred half of Oomaren’s lips lifted in a grin.
I
have never failed Murgare or the throne, and I will not fail them
now. Sirra commanded
Shadowmar to stride forward, and the beast heeded her call, the
dragon’s massive feet pounding and rumbling the roots of the
mountain with each footfall.
“But
the rest of the legion must know where you mean to travel and how
your assault fares.” Trothen paced beside her, his tone demanding
authority and respect. “Elsewise we will gain little advantage from
this… incursion.”
“Then
send a storm dragon.” Sirra nodded to the genturion of the
dragonguard of Northsheeren and nudged Shadowmar forward to the lip
of the cavern.
The
shadow dragon roared, belting out a deep and sonorous cry that rolled
away over the surrounding cliffs and mountains. Her wings snapped out
but collided with both walls before having extended even half their
length.
“Travel
well, Dragon Queen,” Luminsteir said before muttering an
incantation behind Sirra. Purple light flared.
“Fly,”
Sirra said to Shadowmar.
Her
dragon lunged out from the cavern, leaping into the air as her wings
unfurled like all the sails upon the mainmast of a galley. The
massive weight of the beast sent them plummeting downward along the
cliff faces. But within a moment, Shadowmar’s leathery wings
snapped and billowed with air. The shadow dragon flapped once and
then twice, and they rose into the night. Four dragons swooped out of
the cavern behind her.
They
soared out over snowcapped mountains and valleys and forests far, far
below, headed south. To Belvenguard.
Author
Bio & Information:
After reading
Tolkien, R.M. Schultz wrote his first 100,000-word fantasy novel as a
freshman in high school. When he’s not saving animals, he continues
reading and writing fantasy and science fiction, and has done so for
over two decades. R.M. founded and heads the North Seattle Science
Fiction and Fantasy Writers’ Group and has published over a dozen
novels.
And more than
anything, he wants to be knighted by George R.R. Martin.
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/rmschultz.author
Instagram:
https://www.instagram.com/rmschultzauthor/
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