Astrid has only ever wanted to be a Rider, bonding with one of the dragons who coexist with her valley-dwelling community at the feet of the mountains. When she meets Zephyr, a smallish dragon unable to fly, her path forward becomes clear. But what first seems simple is complicated by small-town politics, hidebound traditionalism, and the dangers of adulthood that children can only partially comprehend.

At first, Ray Strong’s ZEPHYR’S FLIGHT can feel derivative. The early action—helping a weakened young dragon learn to fly—seems to nod almost directly at Cressida Cowell’s How to Train Your Dragon. Likewise, anxious teens preparing for “the Choosing” could be found in just about any YA speculative fiction. But the text takes pains to distinguish itself, and those pains pay off. These dragons have “protruding fangs, mouths like wolverines, and eyes like feral cats, and none of them [are] pretty.” (Much to the delight of this reviewer, they also “honk” rather than roaring or growling.) Like many similar protagonists, Astrid is a headstrong and stubborn young woman. She’s also a logical thinker, and, in multiple satisfying sequences, she conducts simple botanical experiments to grow particular plants under optimal conditions. Moments like these help distinguish Astrid and her story from the mass of their well-known antecedents. Perhaps most critically, Astrid learns some hard, adult lessons in ZEPHYR’S FLIGHT. As a headstrong youth who defies tradition and authority, she doesn’t just learn a wishy-washy lesson about how everyone plays their part in the village; she spends time as an exile in the woods, coming to viscerally appreciate how human social organization is critical to survival.

The text evinces great care in its worldbuilding; there’s no question about the depth of cultures, belief systems, geography, and more. There are, however, some sticking points that might give readers pause. There are specific references to “spirit animals” and “counting coup,” for instance, which seem both too-specific to their real-world counterparts and out-of-place in Astrid’s Viking-inflected culture. That culture cribs some words and inspirations from historical counterparts (an “angel of death” called a Valkyr, a paradise called “Warhome”), which seem at odds with Astrid’s agricultural/pastoralist village—very much unlike the seafaring, slave-raiding Vikings themselves. While the human drama of ZEPHYR’S FLIGHT feels grounded and real (especially as Astrid finds herself defending the village against an army of conquest), some of the military and political maneuvering doesn’t quite withstand close scrutiny. It’s unclear, for example, how the Quarajii “barbarians” have the logistical expertise to maintain an army in the field for two entire years, along with the engineering prowess to build large siege engines and move them over mountains. Sticking points like these may not affect the integrity of the main plot, but they do detract from the sense of verisimilitude.

The prose overall is clear and strong, peppered with tactile details of fabric and food. In the latter half of the text, though, a few typos begin to creep in: sometimes missing end punctuation (especially closing dialogue), missing letters (“few” for “flew”), an awkward phrase (“But you have each another.”), or a homophone substitution (“your still grieving”). Resolving these issues and addressing some of the worldbuilding would tighten up the text and give it the final level of polish it needs.

Small quibbles notwithstanding, ZEPHYR’S FLIGHT is still a thrilling and exciting reading experience.

Ray Strong’s ZEPHYR’S FLIGHT is already an energetic, thoughtful, and moving piece of YA fantasy.

~Dan Accardi for IndieReader