Scordril excerpt page 1

Chapter 1 The Messenger 1950

Scordril tilted his bronze dragon face upwards and stared uneasily at the birds scattering in the distance. His scales sparkled in the warm morning sun as he stretched his wings backwards, flexing the shoulder muscles. Always vigilant, his sharp dragonmage senses were now on maximum alert.
  He was standing watch outside the entrance to the Musselburgh layr. He hadn’t anticipated trouble, of course. Few overgrounders, or ‘people’ as they called themselves in their own tongue, came by here. It was too far away from overgrounder buildings and not near enough the river Esk to be on the way to anywhere special.
  But that gave him no comfort as he watched a tiny silhouette in the clear sky. Something was heading his way – and overgrounders didn’t fly.
  Scordril breathed quickly and narrowed his eyes. The unwelcome shape grew in size and familiarity, only to dip suddenly out of sight below some treetops.
  Surely he was wrong? Scordril lashed his tail with irritation, disturbing a bee, which began angrily buzzing about his face. No, he hoped he was wrong but it had looked just like a…
  Snorting tiny flames into the air at the persistent insect, he tossed his head – and only spotted the shape reappearing from the trees when it was almost too late.
  Dragonclaws! thought Scordril, as a surge of fury rushed through his veins.