Dragons In The Clouds
By David Blair
4.5/5
()
About this ebook
"Daddy, where does lightning come from?"
An epic adventure that takes place during a time period when Dragons were alive and freely roamed the land. The people during this time were getting eaten by a vicious species of Dragons. The ruling King finall
David Blair
Dave Blair is an mountain biker, outdoors enthusiast, and writer who lives in Edinburgh, Scotland. Constantly exploring his country on foot or on bike, he knows many of the best (and worst) places for mountain biking and for short mini-adventures.As someone who always loved reading cycling travelogues, it made sense for him to write about some of his own adventures in "Tyred Out".For more things Dave has done visit iworm.co.uk, or follow the author on Twitter @adam_blair.
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Reviews for Dragons In The Clouds
3 ratings1 review
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This was such a fun read! Dragons and magic, a war, and the fate of the world all wrapped up into one engaging story. Middle grade readers who love fantasy and adventure will enjoy escaping into this book, and older readers will enjoy returning to a time when a little imagination was all you needed to take flight. I enjoyed the allusions to Arthurian legend, and found the book to be well paced with wonderful imagery and characters. Definitely recommend for all dragon lovers!
Book preview
Dragons In The Clouds - David Blair
Copyright © 2023 by David Blair
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, by photostat, microfilm, xerography, or any other means, or incorporated into any information retrieval system, electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the copyright writer.
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Ordering Information:
Amount Deals. Special rebates are accessible on the amount bought by corporations, associations, and others. For points of interest, contact the distributor at the address above.
Printed in the United States of America.
ISBN-13 Paperback 978-1-961204-98-0
eBook 978-1-961204-97-3
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023914288
Acknowledgments
Thank you for showing me the formula of storytelling. Without it, Dragons in the Clouds would be a blank page.
— Tom Walsh
Thank you for editing and character development. You took it up a notch.
—David T. Saint Albans
Thank you for editing expertise Dragons in the Clouds to the world.
—Dee Marley
For your help in bringing my story it to the world.
—Stellar Literary Press and Media
Author Relations Officer. I am forever grateful for your professionalism
—Mia Easton
I’ve seen dragons in the sky, clouds pierced with fire, breath as thick as Heaven itself. It was all you, fiercely guarding the gates leading to the aftermath of my demise.
— S. A. QUINOX
Prologue
Deep in the darkest forest, a full moon illuminated the passing clouds emanating a sinister aura. As the moonlight pierced through the pine trees, three gallant knights led by Sir Jonathan (last name), royal compatriots serving the kingdom of Albion, moved cautiously along a narrow winding path; their well-polished armor gleaming in the hazy glow.
Without warning, fear gripped their hearts and cast shadows across their startled eyes as a monstrous beast emerged from the darkness, seizing Sir Jonathan and strangling his cries for help. The beast held on to its prey, clenching him between its razor-sharp teeth while sending a tempest across the ground with its beating wings as it took to flight. The two remaining knights cowered in horror, watching the silhouette bank across the full moon, their unlit torches and swords trembling in their fingers. Sir Jonathan was gone in a flash and his frightened companions left standing in the dark, back to back, with swords drawn; yet, unable to do a thing to help him.
It simply isn’t an adventure worth telling if there aren’t any dragons.
—J. R. R. TOLKIEN
Chapter 1
December 22, 1945
The realities of war devoured Ray’s belief in fairy tales until he saw the dragon in the window. After spending two months recuperating in a London hospital, Ray Evans stopped in a gift shop near the British Museum, boarded a plane back to the States, and headed home in an airport rental car. He breathed a sigh of relief when the headlights shone on the subdivision entry sign at the corner of his street. Only months ago, before Hitler was brought to his knees, Ray had his fill of taking out all the Jerrys he could find as a fighter pilot with the 363rd Fighter Squadron alongside some of the best wings out there. Fighting back fear as they came at him, they fell from the sky, darting at him from the clouds like some otherworldly beast brandishing its sharp claws and teeth. And the little dragon in the gift shop seemed an appropriate souvenir of the monstrous war, not to mention the twinkle in his eye and his toothy smile would make a cute gift for his dragon-loving little girl.
He pulled up in the driveway and put the car into park. The tears stung his eyes, and he glanced up in the rear view mirror to wipe them away, even though the stinging remained along with the incessant pain in his heart. The doctor said the flashbacks and nightmares were typical for a returning soldier,
but given enough time and family support, he would likely return to a very normal life. Normal. What did that word even mean anymore?
Yet, even as the word swam through his mind, he gazed through the driver’s side window at the house he bought for his wife eight years ago before the ‘war to end all wars’ emerged from the shadows. They saved for a year before he hired a real estate agent and drove his wife on a Saturday afternoon to the new subdivision just outside of Arlington, New York. She squealed with delight at what she called her ‘dream house’—a two-story mid-century modern matching all the other ‘dream houses’ in the community. Within four years, his career as an accountant with Hanson & Sons exploded, Abby discovered her love for bridge and the Junior League, and their first baby, a daughter, toddled into his heart.
His eyes scanned the newly shoveled front sidewalk, all cleared of snow, the moonlight sparkling in the drifts, and he took a deep breath, almost sensing the aroma of cinnamon and sugar wafting from the chimney smoke. All cozy and secure. A far cry from the wet, harsh, and insecure days flying over the front lines in Northern France. He was one of the fortunate ones to make it home, and the thought brought another line of tears.
He took another breath, willing himself to focus on the remarkable job Abby did keeping the place looking ‘Norman-Rockwell-perfect,’ and the Christmas lights twinkling on the tree behind the lace curtains in the front window brought an overwhelming sense of peace. He gripped the steering wheel, almost afraid of disrupting the idyllic setting… wondering if the horrors of the war stalked close behind him, waiting to devour his family.
He had been away nearly four years, called up early as one of the young, eager American boys to join the fight against Germany.
Almost exactly four years, he thought. And Reilly was only four years old when I left. Would she even remember me?
Looking in the mirror, he nodded to himself and straightened his Air Force cap as a new flood of emotions erupted from his heart. Then, closing the car door, he stepped lightly across the sidewalk, avoiding the icy patches… the thought making him chuckle inside.
That would be ironic,
he whispered to himself. Newspaper headlines read: After four years of dodging Luftwaffen bullets, icy sidewalk takes out returning soldier.
By the time he finished his thought, his hand had turned the doorknob, and a bead of sweat popped out beneath the brim of his hat. He took it off, tucking it under his arm, and brushed his fingers through his sandy-blonde hair. The door opened to his push, and the faces he longed to see, the ones he thought at times he would never see again, brightened, and their smiles stretched from ear to ear.
A little… well, not so little anymore… blonde-haired, blue-eyed energetic girl bounded out of her red rocking chair near the roaring fire and straight into his arms. All his attempts to hold back the tears vanished as his daughter’s small arms encircled his neck and his wife kissed him on the cheek. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, the smells precisely as he imagined—cinnamon, sugar, the pine scent from a real tree, and his wife’s lavender perfume.
Daddy, daddy! I missed you so much, daddy!
Hey, baby girl!
he responded, beaming with pride and joy as he held his daughter against his chest, smelling the scent of baby shampoo in her soft locks. I missed you too, princess!
Did you bring me a present?
she squealed, her cheeks pinking and her eyes bright with excitement.
Abby tapped her on the head and frowned. Our present is your daddy getting to come home.
Ray squeezed her again to coax away the sudden frown. Nonsense,
he said, laughing. It’s Christmas, and I think I have a few things in the car’s trunk.
Get them! Get them!
she squealed again.
"Oh, I think I might have a special one right now… just for this occasion.
And just for you."
He reached behind his back and held out a box to her, wrapped with silver wrapping paper and a red bow. Her eyes widened, and her little pink lips rounded into a perfect oval. He expected her to tear into the package, but he sat back on the floor, watching her every movement as she tenderly unfastened the tape, untied the bow, and unfolded the folds to reveal the box—a perfect reflection of his organized wife. She took a child-like gasp as she peered into the box, her hands wrapping around the toy and lifting the stuffed animal as if she had never seen anything so wondrous and magical in her young days.
Oh, daddy, you know how much I love dragons,
Reilly said as she hugged the arm-size green dragon. Thank you so much, daddy.
Ray winked at his wife, who stood there beaming. You are so welcome, my darling, and thanks to your mom’s regular letters, I knew this was your favorite.
Abby knelt down to admire the toy as Reilly thrust the dragon through the air, her imagination already taking flight.
Look, Reilly, he has a jewel in his grip,
her mother said, pointing to the opal stone.
Yes,
added Ray. He is a special dragon, a one-of-a-kind.
She paused the flying and gazed up at her daddy. He is?
Yes,
he replied. I bought this dragon at a special shop in London from an old man who told me the story of where this dragon came from.
Reilly bit her lip and clutched the dragon to her heart. Are you going to tell me?
Ray caught Abby’s deep, longing gaze from those emerald eyes he had missed for so long, and the years of being apart flooded his heart, and her cheeks flushed the same as they did on their wedding night.
Ah, Reilly,
she said, "I think it is well