The New Age Read online

  For Niki Rogers and Jen Morgan

  May you always believe

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  LIST OF CHARACTERS

  PROLOGUE

  PART ONE: LEIF

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  PART TWO: RENEGADES

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  PART THREE: THE ISLANDS

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  PART FOUR: GOODLE

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  PART FIVE: THE AURAUMA FANTALIS

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  PART SIX: THE WILD LANDS

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  PART SEVEN: LEGACY

  CHAPTER 55

  EPILOGUE

  GLOSSARY

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ALSO AVAILABLE

  COPYRIGHT

  GABRIAL ♦ a young, impulsive blue dragon. Despite his good intent to serve the Wearle well, Gabrial is often drawn into dangerous conflicts and arguments with his superiors. Guardian to the wearlings Gariffred and Gayl.

  GALARHADE ♦ Prime of the second Wearle to visit Erth. Died at the age of 239.

  GALLEN ♦ ex-commander of the feared wyng of fighting dragons known as the Veng. Met an untimely end during the goyle wars.

  GANNET ♦ a good-natured green roamer.

  (PER) GANTISS ♦ mentor to many young dragons, including the intelligent blue Goodle.

  GARIFFRED ♦ a male wearling born to Grystina. His name is controversial because it means “flame of truth,” implying he is closer to Godith than other dragons.

  GARODOR ♦ a highly intelligent member of the De:allus class, sent to Erth to research and assess the situation after the devastating battles with the goyles.

  GARON ♦ Gabrial’s father, who went missing, presumed dead, during the first goyle war.

  GARRET ♦ a talented dragon whose principal role is to construct maps of any territories the Wearle wishes to colonize.

  GARRISON ♦ a seasoned roamer, promoted to second-in-command of the Wearle after the shocking death of Gallen.

  GAYL ♦ Grystina’s female wearling and Gariffred’s sibling.

  GIVNAY ♦ spiritual leader turned traitor. His lust for power and his brooding resentment of Grystina’s nobility ultimately contributed to his gruesome end.

  GOODLE ♦ a studious blue dragon with ambitions to be a healer.

  GORENFUSSENTAL THE TWENTY-THIRD ♦ the fusty curator of the mysterious Kashic Archive, a role his family has undertaken for as long as records have been kept.

  GORME ♦ a young roamer ridiculed for becoming lost in the boundless Kashic Archive.

  GOSSANA ♦ an aging and fearsome matrial, originally sent to Erth to oversee Grystina’s laying cycle. Promoted to Elder status after the deaths of Givnay and Galarhade.

  GREFFAN ♦ leader of the first Wearle to visit Erth.

  GRENDEL ♦ a young, intelligent female with touches of gold in her purple coloring. She bravely fosters Grystina’s wearlings and is the emerging queen of the entire Erth colony.

  GRENDISAR ♦ a historical De:allus whose theories about the legend of Graven once caused much controversy among the superior ranks of dragons on Ki:mera.

  GRINWALD ♦ an aged dragon of the De:allus class.

  (PER) GROGAN ♦ aged mentor to Gabrial and a tragic victim of Givnay’s deceits.

  GRUDER ♦ a good-natured green sweeper with a kind but nervous disposition.

  GRYMRIC ♦ herbalist, potion maker, and practitioner of the healing arts. His role is to gather Erth’s flora and assess the benefits of what he finds.

  GRYNT ♦ a tough, no-nonsense Elder who assumes command of the Wearle following the death of Prime Galarhade. His shaky leadership decisions often cause him to clash with his advisors, particularly De:allus Garodor.

  GRYSTINA ♦ a highborn female who comes to Erth of her own volition, apparently to maintain the Wearle’s breeding program. Her suspicions about Givnay’s motives eventually led her into tragedy.

  GUS ♦ a gentle giant of a roamer. His one desire is to serve his Wearle faithfully and well.

  REN WHITEHAIR ♦ a boy of twelve winters who is obsessed with dragons, a passion that ultimately takes him right into the heart of the Wearle—and beyond.

  NED WHITEHAIR ♦ Ren’s father. A brave but slightly reckless man, who clashed, mortally, with his own tribe about their plans to win back the Kaal’s mountain territories.

  MELL WHITEHAIR ♦ Ren’s mother. A brave, free-spirited soul who is never afraid to do what’s best for her family and her tribe.

  PINE ONETOOTH ♦ an orphan girl who “wafts around the settlement like a leaf on the breeze.” Pine’s life is changed forever when she is bitten on the hand by the wearmyss Gayl.

  ROLAN WOODKNOT ♦ a young man, not much older than Ren. He is catapulted into a dangerous quest to raise an enemy against the dragons, only to be captured by the Wearle.

  WAYLEN TREADER ♦ a farmer, one of many men lost in the conflict with the dragons.

  LEIF ♦ a free-spirited treegirl who volunteers for a quest to make an alliance with the Kaal, a journey that will lead her into terrible danger.

  ODUM ♦ a simple treeman who aids Leif on her journey to the Kaal.

  L’WEN-GAR ♦ a female Wyvern who becomes the voice of her community when visitors unexpectedly arrive from the Wearle on Erth.

  A warrior tribe from the Wild Lands, unnamed.

  AZKIAR ♦ a grumpy male firebird who is never keen to leave his comfortable shelf on the upper floors of the Librarium.

  AURIELLE ♦ a female firebird who normally is the one to alert Azkiar to the fact that they have work to do …

  AGATHA WHITE ♦ a distant relative of Mell Whitehair, charged with the responsibility of passing on the legacy of dragons to the rest of humankind.

  DR. WHITAKER ♦ a doctor who visits Agatha when she is elderly and in a retirement home.

  EMILY ♦ an employee at Agatha’s retirement home.

  GODITH ♦ a female deity who, according to dragon legend, created the world from a single breath of flame and afterward made dragons in Her i:mage.

  GRAVEN AND G’RESTYN ♦ the two fabled sons of Godith, who allegedly fell out in a spat of jealousy, which ended with G’restyn dying in his brother’s flames and Graven’s third heart being ripped from his chest by his grieving mother. Superstitious dragons have always believed that Graven will rise again one day and take his revenge on all dragonkind.

  WIND ♦ Ren’s strangely magical horse, inh
erited from his father, Ned.

  I: WHAT AURIELLE CHASED

  Floor 47 of the Great Librarium

  Time period: Undefined

  Wind. It always worried Aurielle whenever there was wind around the Librarium. Sunshine, she loved. All firebirds did. It brought out the best of their brightly colored plumage. She didn’t mind the rain when it came, either. Rain made the daisies grow and brought a welcome freshness to the air. It also left pools on the great stone sills in which she could dip her fluffy cream feathers to wash out the dust from the books. There were a lot of books in a building as tall and lean as this, and an awful lot of dust.

  But wind. Wind moved things around. It played with the dust motes and made the aged bookshelves creak. It also made the daisies bend, making it harder to spot irregular patterns evolving in the timelines. A junior firebird’s most important duty was to monitor glitches in the space-time continuum. Wind could be a serious nuisance.

  Raising her long hooked beak, Aurielle glanced at the sky for a moment. The clouds were puffy and mostly still, sitting happy in the blue infinity. Yet there was a definite ripple in her ear tufts. And ripples in ear tufts could not be ignored. She drummed her claws and hopped a little closer to the edge of the sill so she could see the daisy fields better. Time was running smoothly all over the universe, except for a tiny wiggle in the sector belonging to the dragon world, Ki:mera. That made her heart pump a little bit faster. Dragons were the only creatures other than firebirds who were allowed to phase across the verges of space. Whenever dragons got involved in timeline disruptions, there was always … well, there was always trouble.

  She sat back and pondered a little. Should she go and wake Azkiar from his nest of twigs on Floor 108? He wouldn’t be happy to be woken, but then, he never was. Sometimes she wondered if the only true benefit of rising up the Librarium floors was that you simply got to sleep more often and were allowed to be grumpier when you woke. All the same, if an Event was forming, especially one that might involve dragons, a senior firebird ought to be told.

  She stood up and spread her wings. At the very same moment, a gust struck. A strong current of wind that whined as it wrapped itself around the Librarium. She heard a thud and looked back into the room. Zooks! A row of books had tipped to one side. The tiny spiracles in Aurielle’s neck nearly popped. As she turned for another look at the daisy fields, an object flapped past her. It was thin and papery and fluttery and free.

  A single page had escaped from a book.

  There was no time to gasp (though the Librarium kindly allowed her some); she had to catch that page and check its contents. Oh, it led her on a merry flight! Room after Room. Floor after Floor. This shelf. That shelf. So much dust! Up, up, up she went, paying no attention to how high she was flying. Until, of all the places the page might land, it skipped through a window on Floor 108 and draped itself over Azkiar’s nest.

  Aurielle skidded to a halt. Oops.

  Azkiar rose up very slowly, stretching his bright red wings. He dragged the page off his beak. He did not look happy.

  “What?” he said, catching sight of Aurielle. Azkiar was a bird of very few words. There was an infinite supply of words all around him. Why add excessively to the count?

  “There was a gust!” she panted, flapping her wings in a circular motion. “I need to see which book that page came from!”

  Azkiar sighed and cast his eye over it.

  As was his way with words, the senior firebird had very few changes of expression. Aurielle thought she had seen them all. She was wrong. She had never seen him pale before. And that wasn’t easy for a bird with deep red plumage.

  “Graven,” he muttered.

  Aurielle gulped. Her tail feathers began to quiver. Graven? The fallen son of the dragon deity, Godith? Long, long ago he’d been banished (in part) to a planet called Erth for accidentally killing his brother, G’restyn.

  “This can only mean his heart has been found,” said Azkiar. “You’d better study this.”

  He crunched the page between his claws and threw it into the air. It rolled out its header for Aurielle to read:

  Chronicle #264986343: The Day of Moons

  Underneath the header was a myriad of i:mages.

  Azkiar blew on the first and a scene played out.

  Aurielle watched it through twice. After the second play, she said, “We’re going to need a plan to deal with this, aren’t we?” A very BIG plan, she thought.

  She was wondering how Azkiar meant to go about it, when he settled back into his nest and said, “The page came from a book in your sector. For some reason, the Librarium wants you to repair this.”

  “Me?” she squawked.

  “You,” he repeated when his ear tufts had recovered. He collapsed the web of i:mages into a sheet and handed the page back. “Get on to it. Immediately. And, Aurielle?”

  “Yes?”

  “Try not to mess it up …”

  II: WHAT AURIELLE SAW

  Chronicle #264986343: The Day of Moons

  Recorded on the dragon world, Ki:mera, shortly before the

  exploration of Erth by the Wearle of Prime Greffan

  Matrial Grystina.

  Grystina gave a start. It always alarmed her when a dragon came close and spoke to her in thought, not words. Had it been any dragon other than Elder Givnay she might have been tempted to snort a rack of flame. As it happened, Givnay was mute and could therefore be forgiven, though the fact that he had chosen to speak to her at all had come as a mild surprise. Of all the dragons gathered in this viewing place, waiting to see the eclipse of Seren, why did she have to be positioned next to him? Long ago, when Givnay was a wearling, Grystina’s grandfather had caused the injury that had crushed Givnay’s throat, draining his colors and leaving him without speech or fire. An accident, of course. But the tension between the families had been high ever after. Even now, more than half a century on, they barely acknowledged one another. But Givnay had spoken and she must respond.

  “Elder,” she said, nodding, not bowing.

  In most circumstances, that would have been enough—had De:allus Grinwald, sitting on Grystina’s other side, not drawn them into conversation.

  “Such a splendid sight,” he exclaimed, training his elderly yellow eyes on the pale star at the center of Ki:mera. “See how the shadow approaches, Matrial. It can only be moments now before Crune floats perfectly across Cantorus and Seren is eclipsed.”

  Grystina did her best to look interested. “I hope it’s worth a wait of 247 orbits.”

  “246.9,” he corrected her. “Would you like me to explain why Seren changes color, rather than darkens? It’s really rather fascinating.”

  I find it odd, Givnay butted in, saving Grystina the need to make a choice, that we mark the exile of Graven with such … ceremonial enthusiasm.

  “Oh, come, come. It’s hardly that,” said Grinwald, clearing a wedge of phlegm from his throat. “I’m surprised at you, Elder. G’ravity moves these moons, not fable. The De:allus do not hold with the myth of Graven.”

  I disagree, Givnay said. Curtly, Grystina thought. I’ve been studying the work of De:allus Grendisar. His maps of the planet Erth are intriguing. He was of the opinion that—

  “Oh, yes. We all know about Grendisar,” Grinwald cut in. “His deluded search for Graven is a subject of much amusement at the Academy Scientii. Such a waste of a brilliant mind. I told him once that if Godith had shattered Graven’s heart there would have been blood. Search for the blood! I advised him. A jest, of course. Matrial, forgive me. I did not intend to tire you with gory talk about dark dragons.”

  “I’m not offended,” she said, “though perhaps I should move to another viewing ledge and let you and the Elder continue your debate without me?”

  Grinwald rumbled low down and bowed.

  Grystina flexed her wings to leave. But before she could rise, another thought from Givnay passed across her mind. Would it have crystallized or soaked away?

  “What? W
hat, what?”

  The blood, De:allus. Soaked or crystallized? Theoretically, of course.

  Grinwald gave a blustery snort. “Well, that’s impossible to say. It would depend on”—he twiddled his claws as he fashioned a list—“ground conditions, wind movement, precipitation, sedimentary drag. An entire forest could have grown over the spill by now. And the whole composition of the blood might have changed.”

  How?

  “How? Are you serious?”

  Grystina looked at Givnay and saw he was serious. Deadly so. It chilled her to see his green eyes narrow. Had she known then what tragedy her next few words would lead to, she might have slipped away as she’d first intended. Instead, she heard the gasp from the dragons around her and looked up at Seren. Crune and Cantorus were in alignment. The eclipse was happening. “Perhaps the blood … changes color,” she said.

  Givnay threw her a questioning look.

  She pointed at Seren, her eyes lit with humor.

  He turned his head slowly to view the star.

  It was glowing a subtle shade of pink …

  The Whispering Forest, home to the people known as the Treemen

  During the second colonization of Erth by dragons

  When the burning of the scaled creature was done, and the rain had finally quenched the flames and stopped the fire ravaging deep into the forest, the Treemen came to look upon the savagery and mourn the loss of life, of wood. Where a gathering of ancient pines had stood, fully green and reaching tall to the sky, there was now nothing more than a filthy stubble of perishing timber. Charred stumps poked out of a forest floor sullied and dead and still daring to flicker. The damp was foul, the calm distressing. Nothing moved except threads of smoke and the scent of dying heartwood. No wild thing scuttled through the smoldering ash. No birds flew across it.

  At the center of it all lay the wasted body of the creature, its form sketched out by what still stood of its desiccated bones. No bright green scales protected it now or held back the fumes from its cauterized innards. Not a claw nor a stig nor an eye had survived. And though toughened scraps of the vast wing canopy clung resolutely to the framework of the carcass, it was hard to believe that a thing of such bulk had once soared easily over the forest. The beasts who had come to seal it in flame had done their work well.