A Christmas Dragon tale like no other.
Keir thinks he knows about bad luck. His Elven mother is dying of a wasting disease. His Human father, severely injured in the war, struggles to walk. A brutal Winterfall clasps his mountainous kingdom in talons of ice. The people are starving. His family, his little sisters, depend on him to see them to Dragonmas Day.
They need a miracle. But who believes in miracles anymore?
Long ago, the mighty Dragon Santaclaws rescued Humankind and resettled them in the magical realm of Tyanbran – but Santaclaws and his miracles are gone, and his Dragons disappeared. Now, a stubborn half-Elf must brave blizzards and treacherous trails to bring food to the kingdom, and find winterberry to ease his mother’s suffering.
What he discovers on this journey will shatter all unbelief. The lightning-born treasure he places beneath his Dragonmas tree changes everything, for wishes are different when it comes to Dragons.
Wishes take wing, and come true.
The start of a new Dragon Rider epic for fans of Anne McCaffrey, Eragon and How to Train Your Dragon. Santa Claus - Santaclaws - is really a dragon.
Over 10,000 sales.
163 reviews at 4.7* average.
Currently ranked in top 100 of 3 Amazon categories.
“YER FATHER’S IN TROUBLE.”
Keir glanced up from the small pile of arrows he had been fletching at the solid oak dining table. Dull labour, but their family had sore need of the coin. “What – how?”
Opposite, tucked beneath a mound of turquoise tartan throw blankets that could no longer keep her warm, his mother brightened at the incredulous tone of his question. He had always imagined that her perfect, enigmatic Elven smile hid half of the Universe’s mysteries within the upward quirk of her lips. Her favourite rocking chair, chipped and worn with a family’s love, was pulled so close to the flickering flames, he was sure her coverings would start smoking any moment – yet nothing could keep his ailing mother warm anymore.
Wrong question, Keir. Foolish. Elves knew things.
Mothers knew more.
“How much trouble?” he corrected, leaping to his feet.
“Nae Mystic am I,” she whispered in Human. “I dinnae ken, but son –”
“On my way.”
Her lips were ashen, her hair turned grey rather than the lustrous silver it once had been. She had the eskirêna-l’næ, the incurable winter-fading disease peculiar to the Elvenkind. Only winterberry tea alleviated the symptoms, but the infusions merely prolonged the slow, inevitable fading.
Her diagnosis spelled a lingering death.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Laura Sguigna and Alessandra Elisa Paganin
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Author review: Absolutely top-notch to work with Laura and her translation partner and an excellent experience all around. |
