"Find him," Grynt hissed, almost grinding the words into dust, so harsh was the snarl going through his throat. "Find the boy and bring him to me in as many pieces as you care to tear him."

"Prime, with respect --"

"Don't tell me it cannot be done!" The stone walls of the giant eyrie shuddered to the thunder of Grynt's response. The two dragons attending him stepped back a little, obediently bowing their heads. They were De:allus Garodor, the chief advisor to the Prime, and the brave young roamer Gabrial. Gabrial settled his striking blue wings and glanced nervously at Garodor, urging him to speak again.

Garodor was bold and to the point. "Two days ago, Ren stood in the forest in the arc of your flame and not a hair on his head was harmed. How this came about, we don't truly know. But if his boasts about Graven are true, it's little wonder we can't find him. He is now much more than a mere Hom boy. He has the auma of Godith's son burning in his chest."

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Excerpted from The New Age by Chris d'Lacey
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.