Dax the Dragon Master

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It started with nightmares.

It ended with dragon-fire.

Daxillion Scriflight avoided the one thing that made his family famous throughout the kingdom: his natural ability to communicate to dragons. Without his family’s unusual ability, the Mortal Realm would never have survived the Jinn Onslaught or the Jinn Wars, and never would have found a way to imprison the jinn behind the Iron Wall. The mortals are comfortable now, safe in the knowledge that should they once again need dragon-fire to defeat the jinn, that a Scriflight will be there to command them.

But the jinn need to finish their mission. For them to succeed, they must escape the Iron Wall and the Scriflight Net above it.

But somebody made a mistake when they killed Dax’s father.

Keera – a broodmother dragon with the ability to call upon all her litters and their offspring to come to her aid – has gone missing.

With only his friend, Elsbeth – an gung-ho elf – and his captured jinn manservant, Itzal, Dax goes looking for her…

Dax the Dragon Master is a standalone sword-and-sorcery novel with series potential.


I suppose you want me to be a bad-ass dragon tamer.

Bad news. I’m not. I ran from it for a long time, and the idea that I can tame dragons is wholly exaggerated and, well… uneducated gossip. Don’t get me wrong. It’s true in a manner of speaking. I’m a Scriflight, which also happens to be my last name. Yet it’s more like being able to talk dragon, and ask — very nicely — for their co-operation.

It’s my experience that if you don’t ask nicely, they bite, but they don’t normally kill humans, elves or dwarves.

Jinn on the other hand… They really hate jinn. And who can blame them? They came to our realm through human nightmares. Our brains were used as portals during the Jinn Onslaught. Whenever a human dreamed something that scared them, a jinn would claw its way through their brain and into the home. Then, starving from the journey, they’d go on a killing spree, killing families and in some rare cases, whole villages.

That’s where my family — the Scriflights — and a few other families stepped in.

But that’s not the story. Our tale is the one I’ve run from all my life. Granted, I’m not super-old yet, but… Well. For a Scriflight, I should have more dragons under my so-called spell. Yet another misconception by the people we protect.

We being the royal use of the word, because right at the start, my father died, making me the kingdom’s last defender with Scriflight blood.

Grab hold of your saddle horns. This story’s about to get really… scale-y.