Really looking forward to sharing this with you all. It's a little different from what I usually write in a few ways, but I've always wanted to try something with dragons! There might be a little romance still, but I imagine it won't be anything too steamy even if it becomes an important storyline.

For now, welcome to the mountain Beinn Na Nathrach, and the dragon keep of Dùn Ceò. Try not to get lost, keep out of the riders' way, and never step foot near a dragon's nest!

Pronunciation:
Beinn Na Nathrach - Bine na na-rach
Dùn Ceò - Doon c-yow

Prologue

An icy wind whipped a dark torn cloak violently around the pale figure hobbling through the night. Spindly tree branches creaked in the storm, casting skeletal shadows across the sodden ground while the lash of rain soaked the path to the Keep of Dùn Ceò. The stone walls were barely visible in the low cloud cover, but for a single flickering torch to guide travellers brave enough, or desperate enough, to make the climb in such weather.

The occasional rumble echoed down from the high slopes of Beinn Na Nathrach, the mountain the Keep was built into. It shook shook the ground and was heard as far as city across the river. Strangers to the land might mistake it for thunder, but those who lived in the mountain’s shadow knew it for what it was - Dragon-song.

Unlike the mortals cowering from the storm below, the great beasts relished the chance to spread their wings and test their strength against howling gales, or their speed to avoid the flashes of lightening that lit up the sky in blinding white streaks. Occasionally, the traveller could see their terrifying shadows in the clouds, black silhouettes soaring at great speed with curved talons gleaming in like daggers as they cut through furious clouds.

She clutched what she’d fought to keep hidden closer to her chest to protect it from the raging elements, but feared her attempts were for nought as her every step lacked the strength of the one before. Her body was chilled to the bone and provided little warmth. Iron will alone wasn’t enough to reach safety, but she would not falter. Even though the wind bade she turn back, and her mind warned her eventually Dùn Ceò would fall under  new rule too, she pressed on, following the path she had travelled many times in her youth.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the steep climb or the billowing winds alone that hastened her steps.

Ahead, the main gate came into view, illuminated by a lone torch that towered high above.

Behind, caped pursuers flitted with ease over rock and mud, undisturbed by the weather or the dark. The hunters came to a sudden stop beneath the cover of great oaks trees with trembling leaves that shielded them from any of the watchers on the walls. A charred wooden bow creaked as the string was pulled back, and, balanced on a gloved finger, was a black tipped arrow covered in a dark liquid that dripped into the ground below. Steam billowed from the plant life it hit, sizzling and burning leaves and sticks as easily as it would eat flesh and bone, leaving behind an acrid smell.

Sensing the danger behind her, the woman used the last of her will to run for the gate, lifting one arm to catch the attention of the man on guard. He appeared alarmed when he caught sight of her face, leaving his post to rush to her as she did him.

She’d run the length of the country, she only needed to run a few more metres. . .

A sharp whistle sliced through the roar of the storm. But the sound came too late to alert the reunited pair to the dangers lurking in the shadows.
Sharp pain blossomed through her chest and her legs gave out beneath her as her lungs filled with blood that spluttered from moving lips. The man's anguished cry alerted his comrades who came pouring out of the gate with glinting steel at the ready.

The assassins had done what they were sent to do.

The woman took one last shuddering breath in the arms of the man she’d spent months trying to reach. She’d gotten the wriggling bundle clutched to her chest where she needed to be. That was all that mattered.

The last riders of Dùn Ceò searched the forest for the cloaked assailants who’d fled and disappeared into the shadows, but they would find nothing beyond the burnt patch of ground at the edge of the treeline.

At the gates of Dùn Ceò, a baby’s cries echoed through the night.