Free The One Rider (Ashandor Chronicles) by Daryl Yearwood

stronger as he thought of all the sacrifices that had been made. Valaron finally felt his anger give way to a deep admiration. Cortain had given up everything. The young dragon rider was not about to let his uncle down.
    Nearly four hours later, the dragon growled. He stared at a point in the darkness of the surrounding forest. Valaron was instantly alert. A few minutes later, he heard the sounds of horses making their way to the edge of the glade and he relaxed. Skarson and the elf were nearby. His dragon had traveled the distance in less than half an hour. The speed advantage of the Dragon Guard took on new meaning. From this point on, travel would be swift, and distance would be something he would have to relearn in terms of how long it takes to fly from one point to another. The dragon had not moved. His eyes remained focused on the same spot.
    Skarson , Toran, and Cler’d’roh rode into the clearing and dismounted at the top of the glade. The dragon dropped his head and straightened his neck along the ground. He growled again and snapped his jaws in their direction.
    “What’s wrong with you?” This was a side of his friend that Valaron had never seen.
    Another low, rumbling growl ended with a fierce hiss that cut through Valaron like a knife. The sound was paralyzing.
    The horses reared and bolted, but the dragon ignored them, his attention focused on Cler’d’roh. She slowly backed away. The beast took a step forward and hissed again. The elf glanced toward the trees, her eyes filled with desperation.
    “Place your hand on his neck,” called Skarson.
    Valaron looked confused.
    “Do it now, Valaron, or he is going to kill us.” Skarson’s voice was emotionless but firm. The Lone Rider’s eyes were locked on those of the dragon.
    “I don’t understand. Why is he doing this?”
    The dragon took another step forward and stretched his wings to their full width. A deafening roar shook the ground, and his muscles tightened as he prepared to attack.
    “Do it!” screamed Skarson.
    Valaron’s hand shot out and landed on the scaly neck .
    The dragon stopped. Everyone stood perfectly still. Total quite filled the glade, and Valaron listened to his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. After several seconds, the dragon snapped his jaws, hissed again, and then turned his head to look at the young rider. The beast’s dark eye was filled with the look of a ruthless predator. Looking back at Skarson and Toran , the dragon snorted and flapped his wings in their direction. He turned back to Valaron and offered an ear to be scratched.
    Skarson sank to the ground. Toran stared at Valaron, and Cler’d’roh was nowhere to be found.
    #
    “We were delayed,” said Skarson, “because we found your mystery savior.”
    “What do you mean?” said Valaron.
    “We found the one who pulled you to safety when you were about to fall, his body, that is.”
    “His body?”
    “Yes. The one who pulled you to safety was Vaelor. He survived his battle with the Morts, and apparently stayed hidden all of these years so that he could tend to his dragon. It was Vaelor who saved your life.”
    “But you said you found his body. How did he die?”
    “Vaelor took his own life after his dragon died,” said Skarson. “Apparently, the loss was too hard. Sometimes the grief is unbearable, and he followed the same path as many others before him.”
    Valaron was stunned. He could imagine the overwhelming sense of grief that would drive a Lone Rider to take his own life. The bond was so strong that the loss of a dragon would drive a man do extremes.
    #
    Toran and t he Lone Rider made camp while Valaron stayed with the dragon. Growls sounded in the dark, but there were no more violent displays.
    “You stay here,” Valaron said as walked toward the fire; looking back to make sure the dragon kept his distance. Shining eyes accompanied the occasional growl.
    “Have some tea,” offered Skarson.
    Valaron took the cup and used it to warm his