It was forbidden, by order of Targen the Old. No man or woman of the tribe must contest the beasts or defy their will. Just to look upon the skalers, especially in flight, was enough to call down their fire on the tribe. From now on, men would settle on the flatlands.This was the law of the Kaal.Ren Whitehair, son of Ned, heard the words true. No man or woman must contest the beasts. But Targen the Old had not mentioned boys. And what kind of boy concerned himself with laws when his heart was beating to the spirit of adventure?Ever since the first group had burst through the sky and driven the Kaal tribe out of the mountains, the beasts had been despised by the men. A few brave souls had crossed the scorch line in defiance, but all had returned to the settlement in terror, many with hot blood running from their ears, clouds across their vision, or blisters on their skin. Thus far, the skalers had killed no men, but their forceful defense of the mountain territories suggested they would burn to the bones anyone foolish enough to provoke them to excess.But as much as men mourned the loss of their caves, it was all Ren could do to contain his excitement about the skalers. What would it feel like, he wondered, to run his hand along a whole row of scales? Or ride upon a beast as it soared above the mountains? Such fancies played with his dreams, but dreams were all they were destined to be, until the morning of the fateful hunt, the day he saw Utal Longarm burn. Excerpted from The Wearle 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.
