I’m a sucker for a dragon tale! When I first discovered Anne McCaffrey’s Pern series, my heart sang. I wanted to immigrate to Pern just so I could impress a dragon…or if not a dragon, then surely I could manage a fire lizard.
Since I couldn’t board a space ship to Pern, I did the next best thing: I created my own aerie of dragons! Sorcha’s Heart is the foundational tale for my own fictional love affair with dragons.
Here’s the opening to the first volume of my still-in-progress epic…
SORCHA KNOTTED HER FISTS SO tightly her knuckles whitened. She glared at her mother across the rough oak worktable. “When are you going to acknowledge me as a fully capable wizard? I’m not an apprentice anymore. I don’t need your permission to seek the Heart of Fire.”
“Fine,” Elspeth shot back, “but I’m warning you this is a mistake. The Heart of Fire is dangerous.” The small, compact woman stretched to reach the braid of garlic hanging from the beam above her head, yanked a bulb loose and tossed it to her daughter.
“So is this war!” Sorcha caught the bulb by reflex, slammed it on the table and separated out three cloves for the strengthening potion. Her gaze never left her mother. “Don’t you realize how powerful dragons are? If Leofric continues on his present course, he’ll push them too far. They’ll wipe us off the face of the earth.”
Fear flashed across Elspeth’s face, and Sorcha knew that her mother agreed; the King’s recent aggressive actions could have serious repercussions.
Sorcha’s mood softened. She picked up her paring knife and began to chop the cloves, pondering the enigma of the woman who had given her not only life, but a heritage of magic. Because of that heritage, strangers often assumed they were sisters rather than mother and child. Elspeth’s long, dark hair sported only an occasional strand of gray. Trim, active, healthy. These words described both her and her mother. Neither of them possessed the lush curves so desired by other women at court, but neither really noted the lack, being too concerned with the practice of magic to worry about attracting the opposite sex.
Elspeth’s bright green eyes glowed with fervent belief and wily intelligence. Sorcha shared her mother’s fervency and intelligence, but not her eyes. She had inherited her unknown father’s eyes; deep blue, with an exotic slant that engendered frequent comparisons to cats’ eyes.
“Yes. I do understand,” Elspeth said with calm assurance, “and I’m trying to convince Leofric how dangerous his present policy is.”
Sorcha opened her mouth to push home her advantage, but Elspeth held up a slim hand to stem the flow of words.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to sacrifice my only child.” She leaned forward, eyes wide, pleading and vulnerable. “Leave the Heart of Fire alone. It might end this war, but at what cost? Sorcha, you have no idea what that amulet will require as payment for its power.”
A shiver ran down Sorcha’s spine and she made a reflexive warding sign as she wiped her hands on the tattered hem of her potion-making apron.
*~*~*
The quiet waters of the isolated lagoon unnerved Sorcha. She knew a distant barrier reef protected the soft sand from the harsh pounding of the tide’s ebb and flow, but she longed for the accustomed roar of surf—and home. The skirt of her simple shift and tunic tugged damply at her ankles as she prowled the water’s edge. Her eyes darted warily from the aspen thickets that climbed the hill to the north, to the open path winding southward among the dunes covered in beach grass. She might have been the only living creature on the earth.
As much to reassure herself of her own existence as for something to do, she bent to stare into the unnaturally still water. A cool breeze tickled her nose with the scent of seaweed, and tugged a few wayward hairs from her tightly woven braid as she gazed at her reflection in the sparse predawn light.
Tension mounted as she waited for the perfect moment. Unable to remain still, she straightened, searching the sky’s melting darkness. Only fading stars and dawn’s awakening color met her restless gaze.
She must complete her quest, must recover the Heart of Fire. Humanity’s existence depended on her success.
The warning, when it came, took the form of tingling skin as all the tiny hairs from neck to wrists rose in unison. The dragon soared into sight above the aspen covered hill, and Sorcha fought the instinct to run. Instead, she stood her ground and watched him land at the edge of the lagoon. Gods and goddesses, he was longer than the house she shared with her mother! He had to measure thirty feet from his deadly looking teeth to the triangular tail-tip that splashed the lagoon’s still water. He folded leathery wings flat against glistening black scales, and turned his massive head, piercing her with a fiery gaze.
“Greetings, little wizard,” he said, his rough voice conjuring wind-swept crags and the barren isolation of frozen wastes. “It seems the Heart of Fire requires more than one witness to its rebirth.”