Dragon Guard Fighter: Preview

Dragon Guard Fighter Preview 

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Chapter One

Top 3 Signs You Know You’ve Met ‘The One’

Ranulf of House Dalgaard had never wanted anything more in his life than to be a Dragon Guard.

When he was a dragonling of just six, his parents, brought him to the capital city of Odelia for the annual Landing Day celebration. For a child from the rural West Islands who had only known farmland and fields, going to the big city had been a marvelous adventure. He remembered seeing the tall buildings, the crush of people, the cacophony of music and noise, and going into various sweets shops with his mother. But perhaps the most memorable moment of that day was when, while sitting on his father’s shoulders during the grand parade, he saw six tall men in their shiny gold and silver armor came marching down the boulevard.

“Who are those men, Pappa?” he had asked his father, Ragnar.

“Those are the Dragon Guard,” his father had answered. “The fiercest and most loyal dragons in our land. They protect our royal family and our kingdom.”

Ranulf continued to watch the half dozen men as they passed the crowds, his own little dragon inside staring in awe, feeling the mighty and powerful animals from within those men. “I want to be just like them,” he had whispered to himself.

And that became his obsession—the Dragon Guard. He read up on them, even did his school report on them. When he played out in the fields with his friends, he would always play the mighty Dragon Guard, defending the king and queen and rescuing the princess. His parents, bless their hearts, indulged him. First they thought it was just a phase, but as he grew older, they knew he was determined to achieve his dreams. And when he told them that the Royal Dragon Navy had accepted his application when he turned twenty, they had been ecstatic for him. After all, for dragon like him, who didn’t come from one of the noble families of the Northern Isles, the only way to advance to being a Dragon Guard, was to be recruited straight from the Navy.

“Always knew you had it in you, son,” Ragnar had said, pulling him into a hug.

Irene, his more practical, human mother, had snorted and bumped her hip into her husband. “Sure you did.” She smiled through the obvious happy tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “I’m so happy for you, Ranulf. Your dream is coming true.”

“I’ll make you both proud,” he had told them.

“You make us proud by being our son,” he had replied.

And so after a grueling six months of boot camp then seven years serving in the Royal Dragon Navy, Ranulf had been selected to take part in the Dragon Guard training pool. Not only that, but he had risen to the top of his class.

Of course, that would have been more of an honor, if he was not currently sharing that honored spot with the man sitting next to him.

“Ready to eat dirt, Dalgaard?” Magnus of House Asgeir asked as he polished his silver sword with a soft cloth. They waited inside the makeshift tent, waiting for further instructions on today’s exercise.

Ranulf scoffed and gripped the handle of his axe tighter. “Ha. You wish.” Standing up from the bench, he hauled the massive weapon over his shoulder. “You spend more time polishing your weapon than you do working on your skills.”

Magnus did not lift his gaze to meet his, but instead said, “Obviously, I don’t need as much practice as you do.”

Godsdamned Asgeir.

The feud between the House of Dalgaard and House of Asgeir had gone on for so long that neither side really knew how it started. Though, if you ask anyone from Dalgaard, they would say it was started from the very beginning, when the first dragons came to the Northern Isles. House Dalgaard had been given the best land in the West Islands by King Halfnar because of their noble deeds during the Great War and the subsequent search for a new home for their tribe. House Asgeir had been envious, and in retaliation, they stole a dozen sheep from Dalgaard flock. Dalgaard could not let such an insult pass, so the head of their house, Frode, wooed away the woman the head of House of Asgeir wanted to marry.

And so on and on the feud went, and while the rivalry had never turned bloody—save for a minor skirmish over land borders in 1347—the resentment between Asgeir  and Daalgard had only grown over time.

“Nothing else to say?” Magnus put his sword into its scabbard then looked up at him. “Stupefied by my wit and charm, huh? No, wait—that’s your dumb face.”

“Dumb face? Have you looked in the mirror—”

Maggots!

The tent flap opened and the gravely voice through the mind link all dragons of the same kind shared grated into Ranulf’s brain. He swung his axe down to his side with a loud thud, then stood up straight as an arrow. “Weapons Master!” Magnus followed suit, his body going rigid.

All right you two worms, Weapons Master Stein’s steely gray eyes stabbed right into Ranulf’s soul. I’ve chosen you for this competition because you are at the top of that dungheap training pool. Do not make me regret my choice.

No, Weapons Master, they replied in unison.

Remember, this is only an exhibition fight, for entertainment, he reminded them. Try not to draw any blood as I’m told there will be children watching you.

Yes, Weapons Master.

He glared menacingly at them before leaving the tent. Three horn blasts from the outside signalled that the festivities were to begin. According to the Weapons Master, King Aleksei wanted to celebrate the return of his long-lost uncle and his family with a picnic on the grounds of Helgeksar Palace, which included entertainment in the form of an exhibition by the Royal Dragon Navy and of course, the fight between Ranulf and Magnus.

Music blasted as the Navy performed their aerial stunts, and the audience went wild. While Ranulf did miss being part of the elite group, he would still be ratherbe  where he was now. If—gods forbid—he failed the Dragon Guard training, he knew he could always go back anyway. Not that that was a possibility. No, he was so close to his dream, he could practically taste it.

When the music died down and the audience’s thunderous applause filled the air, Ranulf knew it was almost time.

“You’re not winning this one, Dalgaard,” Magnus stated as he unsheathed his sword.

Ranulf merely snorted, then picked up his axe. He was looking forward to this fight, not only because the last time he and Magnus trained had been a draw, but also because he would be able to show off his skills to King Aleksei. And once the King saw what an excellent fighter he was, His Majesty would surely pick him as the next member of the Dragon Guard.

Get ready, the Weapons Master’s gravely voice blasted into his head. That was the signal so they left the tent and headed out into the field, where a combat ring had been set up. The Weapons Master stood in the center dressed in his shiny gold Dragon Guard armor. Taking their places on opposite ends, they met in the middle of the ring and Stein announced them to the crowd.

“Magnus of House Asgeir. Ranulf of House Dalgaard.”

As Ranulf readied himself, the noise of the crowd dissipated and he focused on his opponent. This could possibly be the most important fight of his life so far, and he could not afford to lose.

Weapons Master Stein took a deep breath. “Fight!” he shouted, then he leapt back.

Ranulf charged forward and Magnus met with him the same fervor, blocking his blow with the steel of his broadsword. Being dragon shifters, they were both fast, but Magnus had a grace and speed that made him light on his feet. Ranulf almost felt envy, but he pushed that aside and concentrated in attacking, using relentless brute force to push his enemy back into a corner. The slippery cad, however, managed to escape and roll to the side.

They continued to clash, the crowd cheering and gasping whenever one of them got an advantage. Ranulf was pretty sure he was about to deliver the final blow, but his overconfidence made him swing into a wide arch, which Magnus easily evaded. The hard kick to his side that sent him sprawling to the ground had Ranulf cursing to Valhalla. He flinched, waiting for Magnus to strike but nothing happened.

What in Odin’s name …

Glancing up, he saw Magnus with his sword high above his head, seemingly frozen in place, eyes glazed over. Was he in some kind of trance?

Don’t stop now!

With a grunt, Ranulf swept Magnus’ feet from under him, then flipped up to a standing position. The crowd gasped as he raised his axe high over his head and then slammed it down to ground, inches away from Magnus, whose eyes widened before his face paled, as if he had just come back to his senses.

“Yes!” Ranulf shouted in victory and raised a fist in the air.

“The winner, Ranulf of House Daalgard!” King Aleksei proclaimed. The crowd cheered and clapped, and Ranulf let out a cry of victory as he swung the axe over his head. He beamed at his king, who in turn gave him a nod of approval.

Placing his fist over his heart, he bowed low.However, though he knew he should be filled with pride and joy, the victory felt hollow. Glancing over at Magnus, who remained on the ground, his stomach dipped because Ranulf knew the truth: Magnus should have won, but he had been distracted.

But what could have happened?

Walking over to his rival, he offered him a hand. “Are you all right?”

Magnus blinked. “I—”

What in all things good and holy was that? Stein’s voice thundered in both their heads. Magnus! Did you suddenly lose whatever was left of your pea brain?

Magnus flinched. No, Weapons Master. I mean … I was distracted.

Distracted? Stein’s dark eyebrows furrowed together. Distracted could get you killed. It could get our king killed!

I’m sorry, Weapons Master.

Get your sorry ass, off the ground, recruit! You look pathetic down there.

Y-yes, Weapons Master, he stuttered as he scrambled his feet.

Now get out of my sight.

Yes, Weapons Master.

Ranulf felt no smugness or satisfaction with the dressing down Magnus received. “Magnus,” he called after the other man as he walked away. But he didn’t seem to hear Ranulf as he continued marching back to the tent.

“That was an excellent fight.”

Ranulf spun around at the sound of King Aleksei’s voice. “Your Majesty!” He got down to one knee, placed a hand over his heart, and bowed his head low.

“At ease, Ranulf of House Daalgard.”

Slowly, he rose up, then met the king’s gaze, startling for a moment when he realized the queen was beside him. He’d only seen the queen on TV and once or twice in the castle but never dared to look at her directly. How lovely she was up close, with her delicate face and smiling eyes. However, he did no underestimate her as he knew of the fierce dragon inside her, which he had seen only once when she flew alongside the king when they were attacked a few years ago.

“I’m glad to see you truly have some exceptional trainees, Stein,” the king remarked, to which the Weapons Master only replied with a grunt. The king chuckled, then turned to Ranulf. “I look forward to seeing more of you. Now, if you’ll excuse us …” With a nod, he and the queen turned on their heel and walked toward the tented pavilion.

Ranulf’s chest puffed up with pride. The king had called him exceptional. Well, he said trainees, which he supposed included Magnus, but still this was a step in the right direction.

Stein let out a final snort. You are dismissed. Go back to the training grounds.

Yes, Weapons Master.

Ranulf relaxed his shoulders, but didn’t move a muscle until Stein had turned around. Though he knew he should follow his superior’s orders, he made a beeline for the tent instead, just to check on Magnus.

Clearly, the victory should have gone to him, and though their rivalry went back a few generations, Ranulf respected Magnus, and perhaps even felt some camaraderie with him because they had been going through the same grueling training the past few months. Perhaps it was time to put this stupid family rivalry aside.

When he reached the tent, he pulled the flap aside, but stopped after taking only one step as he heard two voices coming from the inside—Magnus, and a second unfamiliar one. A feminine chuckle made him freeze and his dragon went still.

“ … I’m not usually such a klutz you know.”

“Sure, sure,” Magnus snorted. “Thank gods you’re pretty, otherwise, I wouldn’t accept your apology.”

“Excuse me, I have more to offer than my looks.” The woman paused. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Ranulf’s dragon let out an indignant sound, but he ignored it. It was no secret, after all, that Magnus attracted a lot of female attention, with his classically handsome looks and fine features. While Ranulf never lacked for female company, he wasn’t exactly the handsome Prince Charming type, not with his shaved and tattooed head and rough exterior. Not that he had time to sweep any woman off her feet. No, there would be time for women and a family later on, after he retired from the Dragon Guard.

Shaking his head, he continued inside, where he found Magnus standing over a petite, dark-haired female, whose back was facing Ranulf’s.

“Who wouldn’t think you’re pretty?” Magnus flashed her a sunny grin. “No wonder you’ve got such a handsome boyfriend. Good thing he was there to catch you.”

“Boyfriend? Ew, gross!” She let out a gagging sound. “That was my brother, Mikhail.”

“Brother? Is—”  Sensing his presence, Magnus looked over and met Ranulf’s gaze. “Oh. Hey.” Ranulf paused, waiting for an insult or some kind of accusation that the fight wasn’t fair. “Good fight.”

Good fight? Ranulf blinked. “Uh, same.” Maybe this was a sign to bury the proverbial hatchet.

The woman turned around, her dark curls flipping over her shoulder. When their eyes met, Ranulf felt the oddest sensation in his stomach.

Mine, his dragon roared.

He stood there, staring at her as his brain scrambled for the words to say to her. His mate. The woman’s smile faltered, however, and she stumbled back.

“Hey,” Magnus touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Ranulf’s dragon screeched at him, telling him to get that filthy male’s hands off their mate. Still, he was too stunned to move as he soaked in the sight of her—stunning eyes the color of amethysts. Rich, dark midnight hair. Delicate feature, lush red lips. Even the beauty mark on her left cheek seemed to have been placed there by the gods themselves.

Mate.

This beautiful creature was his mate.

Magnus’s chortle broke into his reverie.“I know you’re not used to being around pretty women, Ranulf, but last I checked, it’s still rude to stare.”

Ranulf shook himself out the trance the woman—his mate—put him in. “Uh … hello.”

Her violet eyes widened as her gaze roamed over him. Her mouth opened and closed again. “I … uh … hi …” She shrank back, making Ranulf’s chest tighten. “Magnus … again, sorry about what happened,” she mumbled, sidestepping around Ranulf before scrambling out of the tent.

Ranulf stared after her, unable to move. Mother Frigga, what the hell had just happened?

“I’ll text you,” Magnus called out, then turned to him. “Wow, you know, I was told growing up that Daalgards had a reputation for scaring women and small children away, but I’d never seen it action.”

The knot in Ranulf’s chest grew as the reality of his situation hit him.

His mate had been scared of him.

And who could blame her? After all, compared to Magnus, he was a hulking, tattooed and bearded beast. Growing up, he never cared for his looks, except maybe building his body and strength so that he could one day be part of the Dragon Guard.

Magnus continued. “I guess you win the fight. But I win the princess.”

It was time to bury the hatchet all right.

Bury it in that smug bastard’s face.

Without another word, Ranulf marched out of the tent, fighting his dragon as it told him to go back in there and knock that asshole’s teeth from his mouth. He clenched his fists into tight balls.

Oh how wrong he had been. There was something he wanted more than to be a Dragon Guard.

Dragon Guard Fighter

Releases Sept 22, 2021