The Blood of Dragons: Book 1
Drast and Tyran might be considered a bit black-hearted, or even immoral. Drast is cunning but reckless, hunting for admiration. Tyran is calculating but tactless, searching for affection. When the two brothers set aside their ambitions to fulfill their father’s desire for immortality, they readily discover many opportunities for redemption. Now, while wielding a powerful magic that drains their life, Drast and Tyran will embark on a maddening quest, facing skin-switchers, dragons, and the God of the Dead.
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About the authors
Joshua Robertson was born in Kingman, Kansas on May 23, 1984. A graduate of Norwich High School, Robertson attended Wichita State University where he received his Masters in Social Work with minors in Psychology and Sociology. His bestselling novel, Melkorka, the first in The Kaelandur Series, was released in 2015. Known most for his Thrice Nine Legends Saga, Robertson enjoys an ever-expanding and extremely loyal following of readers. He counts R.A. Salvatore and J.R.R. Tolkien among his literary influences.
J.C. lives in the Midwest with his wife and two dogs. He recently earned his MA in English Literature and is working on his debut novel for his own fantasy world. Despite growing up with Dungeons & Dragons, Lord of the Rings, and a collection of both Dragonlance and Forgotten Realms novels, J.C. has an abiding love of classics and spends his free time reading anything he can get his hands on.
His brother looked at his hands, now covered by great warm mittens. “Drast?”
“Mm?” Drast grunted, mimicking his brother.
“How are they going to remember us?”
Tyran shrugged his heavy shoulders. “The Stuhia. The Vucari. The world, I suppose.”
“By our apotheosis.”
“Does it always come down to glory?”
Drast snorted. “Yes. If we fail we will not be remembered. It must come to glory.”
Tyran shook his head. “But is what we are doing glorious?”
“We are off to kill a god. How could it not be?”
Tyran stopped and turned. “But if we are wrong. If killing Wolos is somehow an evil act. Or, if we fail and we are remembered because of our tyrant father—”
“Tyran the Tyrant,” Drast interrupted, chittering.
“I am serious. How do we know that we should even be doing what we are planning on doing? How do we know it is right? How do we know we can?”
“Tyran, you are overthinking this. Why do you even care how people will remember you to begin with? It will not matter. We will either succeed, in which case we are allowed to tell whatever tale of our victory we choose, or we fail and are dead and it doesn’t matter. Regardless, people will remember us for the height of our lives, when we faced a god.”
“I want to believe that I did something right for this world before I died.”