Dragons by Firelight - Part 1
Gather round the campfire
Hello Friends!
Welcome to the new year! For the first few months of 2025, I’m going to be trying something a little different on Quest in Progress. I’ve really enjoyed the challenge of writing some shorter stories over the last year, but there is one particular story I’ve been meaning to write for a long time now and it’s a bit too long for one email. So I’m going to release the story in several parts over the next few months.
The story is Dragons by Firelight and it’s one of my Tales of Teraan short stories set in the world of the Eagle Rider Saga. While I have started writing this story, it’s not yet complete, which means you will be getting instalments fresh from the typewriter so to speak. For those of you who have been around the Eagle Post/Quest in Progress for a while, you may remember this opening instalment from an excerpt I shared a few years ago. As of next month, it will be all new story!
If you haven’t read the other Tales of Teraan short stories (Eagle’s Heart, Swords and Protector), they are available free to all subscribers when you sign up. If you are having trouble accessing them, get in touch and I can sort something out for you.
All the best
Lindsey
Dragons by Firelight - Part 1
The fire crackled, sending orange sparks dancing into the night. Jayne pulled her cloak tighter against the clear, cold air, watching the floating embers as they rose to fade amongst the stars. She had never seen a sky so deep and black nor so brilliant with light. The city seemed like a distant memory.
Suddenly, the cloak was whipped from her shoulders. She whirled, but the thief darted away too quickly.
“Malcolm!” she yelled. “Give it back!”
Jayne’s mother raised her head and gave a reproachful look across the flames. “Malcolm. Give back your sister’s cloak.”
“Better do as Mum says,” said Jayne’s father. Though his face was hidden in the shadows where he tended the horses, his voice was light with a smile.
Malcolm grinned mischievously. “Catch!” He threw the cloak over her head, tousling her hair from its neat plait.
Jayne extracted herself from her cloak, reaching out to grab her brother. As Malcolm darted away again, he was snatched up by a tall bearded man, who promptly spun him upside down.
“Uncle, you’re here!” Jayne smiled at him shyly. It had been several years since they had last made the journey to visit their uncle and grandfather. She had not been expecting to see them until the morning.
“I thought I’d come ahead,” said Uncle, stepping into the firelight. “Granda’s just behind. He’s not as quick as he used to be.” He deposited Malcolm on the ground by the fire and hugged Mother, Father, then Jayne herself. A moment later, Granda arrived too and another round of hugs ensued.
“Sit, eat,” said Mother. “There’s still some soup in the pot.” She took a cloth and extracted the cook pot from the flames.
They all settled around the fire. Granda and Uncle sipped at their soup from wooden cups, while Mother and Father questioned them about the journey and the farm. Malcolm poked sticks into the fire, waiting until they caught alight. He waved one in Jayne’s face, but she batted him away. She just wanted to watch the stars. When he tried again, she blew out the tiny flame. He scowled, but a minute later, another burning branch threatened her peace.
This time, Jayne stood and walked to the wagon. She sat down by its frame and leaned against the wheel. It was colder, but here, out of the ring of firelight, the sky seemed to shine ever more brightly. It was the thing she remembered most from their last journey to Granda’s farm three years ago. The farm itself seemed a distant memory, and the nearby village of Baren even more hazy, but the night sky had stayed with her, fuelling her youthful imagination.
A wisp of colour flickered above the mountains. Jayne leaned forward. Had she imagined it? Another flicker of green flame danced over the horizon. Then suddenly, the whole sky was alight.
Jayne’s mouth dropped open. She jumped to her feet. “Look! Look!”
The others stopped their quiet conversation. Jayne heard the crunch of their feet as they joined her by the wagon, but she could not take her eyes from the sight. Flowing sheets of light, ten, no a hundred, times brighter than the stars danced over the horizon. The snowy peaks, which had moments before been shrouded in shadow, now glowed in glory. The light shifted from green to yellow to pinkish-purple and back again.
“What is it?” said Malcolm, his voice hushed in reverence.
Mother placed an arm around both of her children’s shoulders. “It’s the Firchlis. Your Uncle and I used to see it from the farm back when I was your age.”
“But what is it?”
“It’s just a special sort of starlight,” said Father. “But you can only see it this far north, where the air is thinner.”
“No, no, no,” said Uncle. “You’ve got that all wrong! It’s wild magic. The magic of dragons.”
Malcolm’s eyes widened. “Dragons!”
Jayne shook her head. “Dragons don’t exist.”
“You’ve got no proof of that,” said Uncle.
Jayne folded her arms. “Well, you got no proof that they do.”
Uncle gave a wide smile and pointed at the sky. “Dragon magic.”
And as Jayne looked at the ever-shifting lights, she was filled with an even greater sense of awe. The sheer glory of the sight seemed to make anything possible.
“What are dragons like?” Malcolm asked.
“Come,” said Uncle. “I’ll tell you a story.”
The others returned to the warmth of the fire, but Jayne sat herself down with her back to the flames, keeping her eyes fixed on the Firchlis, while Uncle began the story.
“Once upon a time, there was a young Eagle Rider who longed for an adventure. But she was stationed out here, in the wilds beyond Baren, where nothing of consequence ever happens…”
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