Hunter's Journey
Published March 4, 2016
On his way home through the forest, Kohaku meets a strange teller who begs to read his fortunes. The one thing Kohaku has always wondered comes to his mind: what is his true purpose as a dragon summoner? However, the encounter quickly turns from pleasing to vicious, as the teller proves to be a thief.
Sawyer is stationed along the trail with his troops, ready to prosecute summoner’s at a moment’s call. He’s dreamed of the day to rid the country of dragons and their summoners. Those dreams that haunt him every night.
At last, his wish is granted when there’s a report of a dragon sighting nearby. Could this finally be the chance he’s waited for?
A prequel to Malrith’s Shield, Book One of the Dreamtide series.
On his way home through the forest, Kohaku meets a strange teller who begs to read his fortunes. The one thing Kohaku has always wondered comes to his mind: what is his true purpose as a dragon summoner? However, the encounter quickly turns from pleasing to vicious, as the teller proves to be a thief.
Sawyer is stationed along the trail with his troops, ready to prosecute summoner’s at a moment’s call. He’s dreamed of the day to rid the country of dragons and their summoners. Those dreams that haunt him every night.
At last, his wish is granted when there’s a report of a dragon sighting nearby. Could this finally be the chance he’s waited for?
A prequel to Malrith’s Shield, Book One of the Dreamtide series.
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read an excerpt:
Sawyer sat straight up, his body and bedding soaked in sweat. Another nightmare had invaded his dreams—dreadful and profound as they always were. Of dragons. Of their summoners. Of death and destruction. The crackling of flames waned through his thoughts as he blinked to take in the morning sunlight beaming in through the tent. His heartbeat raged.
He swallowed down the wallowing sensation. There shouldn’t be anymore tears, but this dream was just as frightening as the last. To watch his friends and comrades wither away with a dragon’s poisonous breath was just the same as witnessing everything he’d ever known burn to ash. It didn’t matter the difference of last night’s dream. They were all forbidding.
After throwing the blankets off him, Sawyer let the coolness of the autumn air bite at his agitated skin. It helped, even a little. It always seemed to help him come back into reality.
The tent, nothing more than a rickety set of heavy tree branches with thick leather draped around them, swayed in the wind. It would be a cooler day than the last. He welcomed that. Crawling on his hands and knees, Sawyer peered outside. There were other tents fashioned the same as his, the sputtering camp fire in the middle of their base, and guards on their horses ready for their daily patrol.
He sighed a breath—thank goodness everything was still in its place. But for one quite important detail. Sawyer glanced around in curiosity. Fithel must have awoken before him. His commander was quite an early bird after all, but he was usually there when Sawyer roused to a nightmare. The breeze hit his face, and he retreated back into the tent to prepare for the day’s pursuit.