Frances Beresford 
The Warhorse of the Gods 

His attention was drawn to the marker as he was about to close the pages, and he looked at it more closely. It was a roughly cut piece of what must have been a fine silk weaving. It too was so ancient, and its once rich colours so faded, that he could only just make out the image of the young dragon with the smiling boy standing next to it. Lord Aelric sighed and looked at it for a long moment, stroking the fragment gently with his fingers. Then he replaced the marker carefully back where he had found it, and closed the book.