The Uncommon Rider Read online

  Without knowing why, Sophia was positive the dragon quickly breaking out of the egg had chosen that particular night to hatch for a specific reason. Over the last few months, Sophia had spoken telepathically to him. Hearing him in her head felt second nature. Right then, though, all her attention was on the cracking that seemed to echo so loudly she thought everyone nearby could hear it.

  However, no one approached as the dragon poked his head through the top of the shell, knocking a large piece out of the way. He swept his neck to the side, breaking out of the bonds that had held him for so many years. Had it been a decade? A century? A millennium? Sophia didn’t know. The dragon had simply said he had been waiting for her to be born. To be ready.

  She reached out, wanting to help with the arduous process, but pulled back her hand, sensing that wasn’t her job. The dragon she knew so well and was meeting for the very first time threw his head covered in small horns down and to the side, smashing the rest of the shell to bits. His tail whipped behind him, knocking the back of the egg to dust. He shook like a dog, shuddering off the rest of the shell. It was then that the moonlight shone on him, properly showing the entirety of the dragon.

  She’d never seen a blue like what covered him. His scales were sapphire dipped in crystals, radiating the light.

  This girl hadn’t known what it felt like to be in love until that moment. She knew, at her core, that she loved the creature before her with her whole heart. He was good and brave, and undeniably connected to her in every way for the rest of their lives.

  This dragon would be her life force, and she his. Neither could prosper without the other. His aches would be hers. Hers, he’d feel intimately. A rider and its dragon signed on for more than a long life of sacrifices and challenges. They signed on to experience everything in tandem.

  The dragon stood as steady as if it weren’t his first time. He took a step with no hesitation as he lowered his green eyes, blinking at the young girl before him. He only came up to Sophia’s shoulder, but he was growing by the moment.

  She took a step forward, not feeling steady but hiding it.

  “And so we meet like it’s the first time,” the dragon said.

  “Isn’t it?” Sophia asked, running her eyes over him as he tested his wings with a sticky sound, unfolding them and then pressing them back beside his body.

  He shook his head. “Oh, no, we’ve met many times, Sophia Beaufont. Or so I believe.”

  She nodded and turned her gaze to the moon. “Why tonight?”

  A pleasant expression came over the dragon’s face as he followed her gaze. “Each dragon is connected to an aspect of the Earth, whether it be night, day, the ocean, the winds—”

  “The moon,” Sophia said, realization dawning on her.

  “Yes,” he affirmed. “For however long we have here, I’ll be strongest on the full moon. And so will you.”

  Sophia took a step forward, then knelt and looked up at the dragon before her. He was more beautiful than she could have ever imagined, full of timeless wisdom. It was impossible to think that the consciousness of the dragons lived in him. And yet, as she stared into his eyes, she could hardly doubt it.

  “It’s time to name me, Sophia Beaufont. But do it with diligence.”

  She lifted her hand, not hesitating before running her fingers over the top of his snout. Her hand sank to his scales at their first meeting, the union as natural as a baby’s first breath.

  Sophia smiled, unafraid as she stared into the eyes of the most ancient type of magical creature in the world, and the one who would live beside her from now until the end of her own life.

  “I named you long ago,” she began, her pupils contracting from the bright moonlight. “Even before I met you. Before I became a dragonrider, I knew you, and I knew you’d be Lunis.”

  The blue dragon bowed his head, silent respect in the movement. “Yes, my name has always been Lunis, but only my true rider would know that. Well done, Sophia.”

  Chapter Three

  The fountain pen scratched on the parchment, making one of Hiker Wallace’s favorite sounds in the world. He liked simple things: the smell of coffee, the sounds of the morning, and a long ride over the Expanse.

  He glanced up, his eyes finding the crackling flames in the fireplace, which slightly mesmerized him as he thought about what else to include in that day’s log.

  Flipping to the page before, he read yesterday’s entry and frowned. It was pretty much identical to the one from this day. He turned back to the week prior, then the month before, and finally last year. Almost all the submissions were the same. The Dragon Elite always did the same thing at the Gullington: ate, trained, studied, cared for the dragons, and got plenty of rest. Still, Hiker always kept the log. Records were important, even if they didn’t differ from day to day.

  He closed the logbook and sat back in his chair, his gaze drifting out the window to where the Pond stretched for as far as he could see, even with his enhanced vision. Lately, the monotony of each day had made him restless, waking him up with dreams of the life he lived before mortals were blinded to magic. It wasn’t so bad, though. Usually, he could put himself back to sleep. He wasn’t like Adam, who was consumed with picking back up the dragonriders’ mission.

  The world wasn’t ready yet, though, Hiker thought, pushing up from his desk and striding back and forth in front of the fireplace.

  The older dragonrider hungered for the fight again, the chase. He wanted to take back the mantle of the Elite and resume their role as adjudicators for the mortal world.

  They weren’t ready, Hiker told himself, although it was getting harder to convince himself of that since the mortal world could see magic again.

  Long ago, Hiker, Adam, and many more dragonriders had ruled the world, intervening in the affairs of mortals and keeping the peace. And then one day, the dragons were all like ghosts, unseen by mortals.

  That simply made the riders of the Dragon Elite appear to be loons, professing that they had dragons. Overnight, mortals had forgotten about magic, and worse, they couldn’t see it. What was the point of serving as the judge, jury, and executioner to a world that didn’t believe they existed?

  And so, the Dragon Elite had disappeared, many of them confining themselves inside the Gullington, the Elite’s headquarters. Since the world couldn’t see them, they were soon lost.

  Not all stayed in the confines of the Gullington. They were too restless to be confined. Some disappeared. Some mysteriously died. And the others, Hiker and Adam, learned how to simply exist.

  Centuries passed.

  The world outside the Gullington changed, but the Dragon Elite knew nothing of it. They stayed inside the Barrier for the most part, wondering if they’d die without a purpose.

  And then, very recently, everything had changed. Hiker wouldn’t have even known about it if not for their housekeeper Ainsley. She’d been at the market, buying the food for the week. She ran all the way back, not shifting into her normal appearance when she stormed into Hiker’s office. He pulled his sword, wondering what the strange old man was doing there. Ainsley shifted back to her normal appearance, her auburn hair framing her pointy chin.

  “Sir, I have news,” she stated, curtsying to him in her normal manner.

  “Go on, then,” Hiker had demanded, sheathing the sword he hadn’t used in quite some time.

  “Mortals can see magic again,” she’d said in a hushed voice.

  Those five words should have changed everything for the Elite, but they hadn’t.

  Presently, Hiker strode back over to the logbook and flipped it open again, reading the entry from that day, when Ainsley brought the news from the village. There had been a celebration among the riders then. They had consumed more mead in a day than they usually did in a year. There had been much talk about the future. About mortals.

  He flipped to the next day. It read the same as the day before. And then the day after that...until things went back to how they had been. The Dragon Elite woke, ate, trained, studied, cared for the dragons, and got plenty of rest.

  Even after the news that mortals were finally awake again, nothing had changed for the riders, and their leader was responsible for that. It hadn’t been an easy call for Hiker to make, but he still stood by it.

  Mortals weren’t ready.

  “Give them a few hundred years to adjust to magic before we startle them with dragons,” he’d told Adam.

  His oldest friend and fellow rider hadn’t been happy about that. The two had disputed it time and time again, but Adam knew Hiker was right; mortals needed time to adjust. According to Ainsley, just the sight of a fairy flying around the market had sent many mortals running to lock themselves in their cottages. How would they react when a dragon flew down from the sky and a rider slid off it, stating they were there to oversee all disputes among mortals?

  They would panic.

  And then it would be another few hundred years of solitude for the Elite. Hiker could handle that. He had.

  Adam, though. It would kill him, as it had many a rider before.

  No, it was better for everyone if the Dragon Elite stayed put, safe inside the Barrier. Then when mortals were ready, the riders would reign once more.

  He went to check the log again, thinking there was something he could add. Quiet, the gnome, had caught an extra fish that day. That was worth noting.

  Picking up his fountain pen, Hiker had just begun to add to the log when the globe that sat next to the bank of windows displaying the Pond beeped.

  He jerked up. Dropped his pen. Eyes widened.

  It had been a century since he’d heard that noise.

  The pen rolled across the desk and dropped on the oak floor, landing with a clacking sound. Hiker jumped and looked down at the
still-rolling pen. He pulled his eyes back to the globe. Five red dots were lit on the huge globe that was inlaid with gold from the giants. Stone mined from the gnomes’ caves made up the bulk of the sphere, and the wood was the finest Polynesian teak, given to the Dragon Elite by the elves. The magic that tracked every dragonrider on Earth had been gifted to them by the magicians, specifically, the warriors of the House of Fourteen.

  The globe was more than an incredible piece of art made by the major magical races. It was the way Hiker tracked the riders, which hadn’t been a problem in…a long, long time. Hiker had little reason to keep track of the riders since they’d stayed inside the Gullington for the most part. But…

  He strode over, hoping it was a glitch.

  The magicians messed up long ago, and the problem was only now becoming apparent, he told himself.

  Or maybe the metals, wood, and stones had made the magic malfunction, and the gnomes, giants, and elves were to blame.

  He swiveled the globe around until he found the blinking red dot.

  It had been a long time since Hiker had sucked in a gasp like the one that assaulted his chest now.

  It wasn’t a malfunction.

  It was one of his.

  It was Adam.

  He was in trouble.

  The lights on the globe tracked the dragonriders, and they blinked when they were in mortal danger. And it appeared that his oldest friend was—

  The door to Hiker’s office burst open. Evan stood at the threshold, his chest rising and falling with panic.

  “Hiker, you need to know—”

  “Adam is in danger,” he answered, cutting off the youngest dragonrider.

  Evan’s dark skin wouldn’t register his flush, but the shock on his face was apparent when Hiker responded. “How did…” His gaze flew to the globe. “Oh, of course.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Hiker stated, wishing he could turn off the constant beeping that signaled a change in a rider. It told when they were in trouble or new riders and needed to be picked up. It had been a long time since he’d heard that, although there had been false alarms from Los Angeles in California, United States lately.

  “What has he gotten himself into?” Evan asked, pushing his long dreads out of his face as he leaned over to peer at the blinking red dot.

  “I’m sure it’s just because he’s left the Gullington,” Hiker stated, taking a breath to loosen the stress in his chest.

  “I went to the Cave to check on Coral, and I noticed that Kay-Rye was gone,” Evan informed.

  “You did the right thing by coming here,” Hiker said, placing his hands behind his back as he turned toward the bank of windows that faced the Pond. The sun was setting now, night falling, making for a beautiful display as the full moon rose over the Gullington. Hiker caught his reflection in the window.

  He hadn’t changed much in five hundred years, still sporting the same long beard and kilt, and the armor that he’d inherited from his father. Even though he didn’t need its protection, he still wore it every day. There were some things one never stopped doing. Habit was the strength of a successful man. He was certain it would bring him back when the time came.

  “He’s gone looking for cases,” Evan stated, glancing out the window.

  Hiker nodded. “Yes, I expected this. Adam has been growing restless. I don’t think this was his first time outside the Barrier lately.”

  Evan swung his head around, shock covering his face. “Really?”

  Hiker shrugged. “He thought he had spelled the Elite Globe to hide his activity, but I’ve seen him leave a few times.”

  “But is he okay?” Evan asked, glancing over his shoulder at the globe.

  “Yeah, he probably got himself into some trouble we’re not used to,” Hiker stated.

  “Like gawkers on the ground?” Evan asked.

  “That or one of the other new technologies Ainsley has told us about.”

  Evan tapped the larger man’s arm. “You don’t think she’s right, do you? The modern world doesn’t really have witchcraft that allows them to spy on us from space or whatever else?”

  “I think she calls it technology,” Hiker answered. “And no. Don’t worry about it. I’m certain the world hasn’t changed that much in the hundred years since you joined us.”

  Evan let out a breath of relief. “That’s good to know. Then I’m sure you’re right. Adam is probably—”

  The flat-lined beep cut the dragonrider off.

  Hiker swung around. Rushed toward the Elite Globe. Pressed his face to the dot that glowed brighter than all the rest.

  “No!” Hiker yelled, knowing what that sound meant even though he hadn’t heard it in quite some time.

  “I-I-It can’t mean…” Evan asked, stuttering.

  Hiker would have rushed off. Rescued his friend. Crossed the Barrier, but by the time the beeping started, it was over.

  He stepped back, shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s gone.”

  “No!” Evan argued. “We can get to him. Kay-Rye. We can save them.”

  Hiker had lived long enough to know the truth. “We can’t.”

  The leader of the Dragon Elite had lived long enough to know that doubting the Globe only led to insanity. Every leader had tried to change what it said, but once they realized it only spoke the truth did they have any peace.

  “So he’s gone? How?” Evan asked.

  Hiker strode for the door to his office. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

  He’d pulled open the door and was almost through it when a different beep echoed from the globe, pulling his attention back. Hiker would have believed his friend was back and the globe was wrong, but he knew the slightly higher beeping that the globe was emitting. It didn’t mean an old dragonrider was back. It meant a new dragon had been born.

  Evan backed up, looking at the Elite globe and Hiker. “What is it?”

  The leader of the riders couldn’t believe it. It had been over a hundred years since he’d heard that sound. He had told himself it might not happen again in his lifetime, but here it was. Not since Evan had he heard that sound from the Elite globe. It was the echo of birth, of awakening, of something remarkable.

  Hiker shook his head, dispelling the strangeness building in his head. “On the very same night one rider has fallen, another has risen.”

  Chapter Four

  In his lifetime, Hiker had lost many, but no one like the person he was approaching. He and Adam had spent several hundred years together passing time. Waiting to be needed again. Arguing about what needed to be done in the meantime.

  There was no one who got under Hiker’s skin like the man he was rushing toward. And no one he loved more who still breathed on this Earth, besides his dragon Bell, of course.

  At the Barrier, Hiker paused, realizing it had been a long time since he’d left the Gullington. He’d portaled out recently, but only briefly, and that was different from crossing the border.

  From his place on the slick grass, he could see Adam and Kay-Rye sprawled out roughly a hundred yards away. They had made it so close to safety, and yet, close was the difference between life and death.

  The guys halted at Hiker’s back, probably sensing his trepidation. Evan hadn’t crossed the Barrier in quite some time. For the others, it had been more than the normal span of a lifetime. There was simply no reason to leave anymore.

  He wished he’d taken the time to get his dragon Bell. She couldn’t do anything, but it would have made the next part easier.

  “Brothers,” Hiker began, his gaze falling on Evan, then Mahkah’s and Wilder’s faces. Like Hiker, they were much older than most magicians, having the longevity of their dragons, but it didn’t show. Mahkah and Wilder appeared to be in their early twenties, even though they’d both spent over two centuries on this Earth. Evan was still a baby by dragonrider standards at just over a hundred years old, but he at least appeared mature enough to drink a beer in a pub—not that he’d ever been given the chance to do so.

  “We don’t know what’s out there,” Hiker continued. “Whatever took Adam down could still be on the prowl. Stay vigilant, and at the first sign of danger, call your dragon. Otherwise, simply show your respect.”