Torsere – Why a trilogy?
Firstly, thank you, Charlie, for hosting me. Capture, is the first book in the Torsere trilogy. My original idea for this story was for a stand-alone book, not three–the main focus being the relationship between the two main characters. But as I began to plan it out, and actually start writing, a whole backstory and plot unfolded and I suddenly found myself with far more story than I could actually fit into one book.
And so I split it into three.
The first book introduces the two main characters, Nykin and Ryneq, as well as a few secondary characters, notably elves and other dragon riders, that appear more regularly in books two and three.
Nykin is a dragon rider in the king’s army, and his relationship with his dragon, Fimor, is one of the most important ones throughout the series, second only to Nykin’s relationship with Ryneq. They are bonded through magic and blood, and I wanted to take the time to show just how deep their connection goes.
Ryneq is the King of Torsere, thrust into the position before he was ready by the sudden death of his parents. He rules the kingdom with his sister, Princess Cerylea, by his side, and together they are prepared to do whatever it takes to protect their land and their people. The whole of the series is based on the decision they make to keep everyone safe.
Capture is released today, Union, the second book is due out in April, and Alliance, the third book, hopefully later in the year.
NYKIN STRETCHED over the back of his dragon and unstrapped the thick leather harness that held the saddle in place. He could just about reach when Fimor settled low on the ground—the top of Fimor’s back coming an inch or two above Nykin’s shoulder. “There. Is that better, Fimor?” They’d just come off border patrol, with a little detour out over the sea that hadn’t gone exactly as planned. He stroked his gloved hand over the rust-colored scales on the dragon’s flank, then jumped back, cursing when Fimor huffed a small jet of fire in Nykin’s direction. “Hey! You know it wasn’t my fault.”
Fimor swung his head around to regard Nykin with large obsidian-colored eyes, and Nykin immediately felt the pulse of the connection being made. The triangular-shaped fire mark on the inside of Nykin’s left wrist glowed brightly with magic. The intricate mark swirled with thick interwoven strands in the center, the burnt orange twisting outward to form three defined peaks. Nykin closed his eyes and focused on the dull throb under his skin as Fimor’s voice sounded in his head.
“You must be more careful, Nykin.”
Nykin sighed and leaned against the hard wall of Fimor’s cave. “I know. But—”
“It’s not just your life at stake! You know this. I would have survived the fall, but you would not. And while I might not die if your heart stops beating, it would certainly take me many years to recover. You cannot afford to be so reckless.”
“Okay, I admit that maybe I misjudged it slightly—”
Fimor’s long barbed tail snapped from side to side. “Slightly? You almost crashed us into the rocks.”
Nykin sighed and stepped closer, smiling softly as Fimor obligingly lowered his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” He ran his fingers over the hard ridges along either side of Fimor’s jaw. “I thought I knew better, and I was wrong.”
“We are bonded, Nykin, and as such, I am bound to follow your commands. You must learn to trust in me and know that I would never put you in harm’s way. Ever.”
The mark flared briefly before settling back down, and the connection between them fell away. Nykin watched as Fimor shuffled back away and turned toward the mouth of the cave. He flexed his wings, the very tips brushing the walls on either side, before launching into the sky beyond. Nykin continued to follow his progress. The sight of a dragon in flight never failed to take his breath away. He was a dragon rider, marked from birth and born to ride in the sky, but a dragon flying on its own was a sight to behold.
Soon Fimor disappeared up into the mountains above and out of sight. The landing caves—huge areas in the rock that opened out into the sky—were built into the east side of Mount Tors. They were connected to the main rooms of the Eyrie by a series of winding tunnels. Nykin hauled the leather harness and saddle onto his shoulder and carried it down toward the main storeroom.
“I thought I heard you fly in.”
Nykin looked up to see Selene already stowing her harness on one of the waiting racks. Her long hair, the trademark of a rider, trailed down her back in a thick black braid. “Yes, just a moment ago.”
“And you’re down here already?” she asked, turning to give him a curious look. A dragon and rider usually spent time together after a ride, before the dragon retired to its lair farther up the mountain. “Is everything okay, Nykin?”
Nykin hefted his gear onto the empty rack and leaned against it. “No. I made a mistake.” He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. “We were flying out over the sea. Fimor told me the angle was too steep and the wind too strong, but I ordered him into the dive anyway.”
“What happened?” Selene’s voice had an edge to it all of a sudden. Rider and dragon always worked together—they were taught that as soon as they’d bonded.
“We nearly crashed onto the rocks,” Nykin continued, wincing at the scowl on Selene’s face.
“Nykin, you sh—”
He held up his hand to cut her off before she could chastise him further. He didn’t need anyone else telling him how badly he’d messed up. “I know, Selene. I know.”
She looked like she was ready to say more on the subject, but the sudden appearance of Jaken saved Nykin. He came skidding into the storeroom, out of breath, and it took him a few seconds of gulping in air before he could talk.
Selene raised an expectant eyebrow, still clearly in a pissy mood, and Nykin shook his head when Jaken glanced over at him as if to ask what’s her problem?
“Ryneq has requested all dragon riders come to the great hall,” Jaken managed eventually.
Nykin felt the familiar prickle of heat, low in his belly, at the mention of the king’s name, but he resolutely pushed it away. “Now?”
“Yes.” Jaken was already trying to usher them out the door. “Everyone else is there already. We’re just waiting on you and Selene.”
Nykin frowned and looked down at himself. It had been a hard ride earlier, and he was covered in sweat and salty spray from the sea. He didn’t need a mirror to know that his dark-blond hair, thankfully not anywhere near as long as Selene’s, hung limp and matted around his shoulders. He looked a mess and had no intention of going to see the king without at least changing his clothes.
“I’ll meet you there.” He gestured at himself with a wave of his hand and grinned. “I just need to get cleaned up first.”
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