The Restless Sands of Neel: Legends of Cirena, #3

By Stephanie Flint

A dragon without wings. A kid whose language he can't speak. And an ever-increasing amount of debt....

Troublesome raiders?
Horses can outrun a raider.

A kid with untamed beast magic whose fear of raiders frightens said horses?

One overturned cart, countless bruises, and a bill of property damage later...

Ro'nor might have descended from dragons, but he wasn't born with wings or special powers, and he can't shift into their form. No bards will sing of his heroic deeds.

His only magic is a gift for scrying.

But his uneventful plans to foretell weather patterns in a distant desert are thrown from a far-too-literal cart when raiders spook his horses and he finds himself the de facto warden for a terrified kid only his guide can understand.

According to her, the kid's family has been kidnapped by slavers. But with Ro'nor's scrying skills and a careful redirection of the kid's beast magic, he might be able to track the slavers and rescue the kid's family.

Can he evade the dangers of the desert, mount a perilous rescue, and earn a tale that rivals the songs of his ancestors?

Adventure through the scorching deserts of Cirena... read The Restless Sands of Neel today!

 

 

~ Each of these Legends of Cirena stories can be read stand-alone: ~

 

* The Wind Mage of Maijev (Livena)
* The Gryphon and the Mountain Bear (Nuaka)
* The Restless Sands of Neel (Ro'nor)
* The Cursed Halls of Kalecen (Hahven)
* The Scars of Her Past (Alia)
* The Dragons of the Mist (Zynia)

 

~ Crossovers (It will help to have read the previous stories involving the featured characters): ~

 

* The Wind Mage and the Wolf - Features Livena (The Wind Mage of Maijev) and Nuaka (The Gryphon and the Mountain Bear)
* The Trial of Bells and Blood - Features Hahven (The Cursed Halls of Kalecen) and Alia (The Scars of Her Past)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Infinitas Publishing
• Release date: Jan 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393811039

Stephanie Flint

Stephanie Flint (formerly Stephanie Bibb) graduated from the University of Central Missouri with a Bachelor of Science in photography and a minor in creative writing. She merged the two interests into book cover design and photographic illustration, but she particularly enjoys writing speculative fiction. Stephanie lives with her husband, Isaac. Together they plot stories in the form of tabletop role-play games, and they enjoy the occasional cosplay. Online, Stephanie often goes by the nickname of SBibb.

Book preview

The Restless Sands of Neel

A Novella from the Legends of Cirena

by Stephanie Flint

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2020 by Stephanie Flint

Formatting and cover design by Stephanie Flint

Daz assets used in the cover design

All rights reserved. Published by Infinitas Publishing.

infinitaspublishing.com

Table of Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Acknowledgements

Newsletter

About the Author

Glossary

Also by the Author

ONE

Ro’nor flinched as his cart jerked over a pothole. The palomino horses whinnied in protest, but he soothed them softly in his native tongue, and soon the cart shambled along at its usual pace. The kid next to him—well, she was technically in her older teens, but still young by Darden standards—peeked at him from under her scarf, green eyes wide with wonder. You really are from the Darden Isles, aren’t you?

He nodded curtly. Naleni had been much too ecstatic to meet a real dragon when she met him at Neel’s portal port. Unfortunately for her, he hadn’t come with scales or fiery breath, and he didn’t have the tongue of a bard. No real skill of telling elaborate tales about how his ancestors settled the Isles. No romantic stories of forbidden love between dragons and humankind. No fearsome adventures of dragons facing off immortals in the Immortal Realm.

Just a helpful ability to scry into the future or at a long distance and tell the local farmers what the weather held naturally. They’d give him the tovanor to live off of, he’d give them a few tips about what their crops might need in the coming months, and they would decide whether to bring in a wind or water mage on their own.

Naleni flashed him a toothy grin. Surely you’re used to the warm weather, what with being a dragon? Her freckles darkened her tan cheeks, easy to spot even with the scarf she wore over her head to keep out the scorching sun.

Ro’nor snorted. His ancestors might have been dragons, but he’d never had the luck to shift into one or even meet a full-blooded dragon. He inherited his ribbons of scrying magic from his grandmother’s side, but that was about the extent of his connection to his home’s namesake—Darden, the Immortal word for dragon.

Besides... despite the volcanoes in the region, the Darden Isles weren’t particularly warm.

You ever been to the Darden Isles?

She shook her head and her short, dark brown hair slapped her cheeks. The cart rocked beneath them as their palomino horses turned down a gravely road off the main stone path. Specks of golden sand shone between the gray pebbles, which had been transported from the river valley up north.

"Never gone up the river or past the River Plains, kyat," Naleni said matter-of-factly, using the local’s respectful honorific. I was born and raised in Harveten. Spent a little time in the foothills down south—my brother used his ribbons to make mining easier, and it was warmer there, but here? The winters get cool, but summers are comfortable. Doesn’t get hot unless you go past Silendee.

Ro’nor snorted. His shirt was already soaked with sweat, and they were hardly into spring. The scorching sun would seem mild once summer hit. Seemed his grandmother’s claims that they were descended from mist dragons were more accurate than the neighboring clans said.

Too bad he hadn’t gotten the ribbons to cool himself.

The Isles are different. Cooler. Not much sun—

Naleni scooted closer to him, her fingers clutching the splintery wood of the bench beneath them. What do you mean, ‘not much sun?’

Ro’nor supposed any tale he had might be exciting to someone who never left this sandy desert. Sure, the orchards of Neel were exquisite and the sandy dunes outside of the city were impressive... but he hadn’t grown up running among them.

There’s a lot more clouds. And rain. It’s cooler, he explained. Picture your coolest winter nights, and picture the dampness that clings to your skin after a bath. Put those together, and you have our nights and mornings. We get a pale sun shining through the fog—not that bright thing. He gestured to the burning disk in the near-white sky overhead. And we have mountains. That’s the whole island. None of this flat stretch. Ahead, stubby grass poked through the cracked mixture of clay and sand. They were still close enough to Neel’s lake to benefit from the delta, but any farmland out here was magically boosted.

Hence the need for his ribbons to read the weather. He’d needed a job, and word had it the farmers out here could use a hand. With the help of Naleni to make sure he got where he was going, he could travel between the farms of Neel in early spring, then head up north once summer came.

Naleni shuddered. Don’t you get cold there? She looked him over, no doubt questioning how his open-faced shirt could possibly be traditional wear... the open-faced shirt he was seriously glad accepted the meager wind and gave him comfort from the sun’s harsh gaze.

Those from inland would burn easily on the Isles, not expecting the cloudy days to burn them, but his heritage protected him. It did not protect him from this overbearing heat.

Dragons, remember? The Immortal Realm’s made of fog... and it’s reputedly cold. Might have been a few dragons who made their pockets as tropical as the Cantingen Islands, but most of them preferred the cold. He gestured grandly to himself. I’m inclined to agree.

Naleni squeaked delight, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she bounced in her seat and returned to staring at the hint of green grassland in the distance.

Excitable kid. He shook his head, amused. Couldn’t say he blamed her. This was his first big excursion inland. He’d thought it would be more exciting. So many new people to meet... new places to scry. He’d have a chance to learn more about the places he went, and a chance to familiarize his ribbons with the new territories so he could use his magic easier.

But everyone had such high expectations of anyone who came from the Darden Isles. They were dragons. Didn’t he have some sort of mystical ribbons that made him all-knowing? Couldn’t he shapeshift, at least a little? Why didn’t he have those amber-gold eyes like the fire dragons? Was it true each clan had their own tattoos? What did his mean?

The tales neglected to mention that not all humans with dragon ancestry were truly dragon-like. If it weren’t for the curling, gray-blue ink tattoos across the back of both his hands, shaped with the claws and hooks of his clan and the wispy design of his scrying ribbons, he might have omitted the fact he was from the Darden Isles altogether.

Fewer questions.

Fewer expectations.

Fewer wide-eyed teenagers staring at him as if he might suddenly sprout wings and shapeshift into a dragon of legend.

He sighed, repositioning himself to get comfortable on the bench. "How much