Chapter one
Kalon

Kalon strode through the streets of Gil'ead in high spirits, cheerily whistling softly to himself. He was holding a piece of parchment in his hand as if he would never let it go.

He reached a market stall and tossed the grocer a coin before taking an apple and hurrying away, his eyes set intently on a massive white house at the end of a street full of magnificent houses that he was approaching.

Kalon swung open the large oak door of the house, and entered, pulling the door closed behind him.

He was stood in a grand room lit by a glowing orange fire that crackled in the marble fireplace by the left wall of the room. Beside the fire was a finely carved wooden table with decorative carvings engraved into the legs, and eight chairs around it.

In one of the chairs was a man with greying brown hair and muddy brown eyes, and in the another sat a woman of a similar age. They each wore beautifully woven finery, decorated with golden thread and lace.

The woman turned as she heard the door slam shut, her hazel eyes widened happily at the sight of Kalon.

"Kalon!" She smiled warmly.

Kalon held the piece of parchment up triumphantly. "The dragon eggs are coming here in two days, mother!"

She took the parchment from him and held it at arms length while her husband leaned closer to see it. It read:
Nobles! Paupers! The riders are giving you the chance to become one with a great beast of your own. To become bonded with a dragon and receive the highest honour on Alagaesia, sign up for the chance to handle the eggs, that will arrive in a week's time.

"It says in a week." Jitrel, Kalon's father, grumbled in his usual gruff manner.

"Talia told me it was put up five days ago." Kalon answered, staring at his parents expectantly.

"Kalon." His mother, Lori, groaned. "You're seventeen, you should set your mind on finding a wife and settling down with her and stop this silly dragon fantasising. You'll inherit a lot of money from your father's trading business with the elves, and that is far more important than anything else that could be offered to you."

Jitrel nodded in agreement. "Kalon m'lad, I'll bet the rider's lives aren't even that brilliant."

"I just want to try, father." Kalon scowled. "Or I'll regret it."

He stamped towards the polished stone staircase and climbed it, pushing past the startled maid that was carrying a pile of clothes.

He reached the top of the stairs and went into his large bedroom, where a fire had been lit for his return and his huge silken bed been made.

He collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the pale yellow drapery that hung off the four posts of the bed.

He had longed to be a rider all his life; mainly because he knew he was useless. He was a stupid boy, and he had never believed otherwise.

When Jitrel had hired a tutor to school him he had not understood anything, and his mind simply would not take anything in, so his father had tried many more people, even brilliant scholars, but none could help Kalon, so everyone had simply given up.

The sun cast shimmering shapes on the floor tiles of his bedroom, and he found himself craning his neck to stare at them, his eyes darting from side to side to take it all in.

When he could no longer keep his neck upright, and when the sun had turned orange-red and his distressed thoughts had faded, he drifted easily into a dreamless sleep, his last thought being, I will go in two days. And I will become a rider.