Page 16 of Flameborne: Chosen (Emberquell Academy #1)

~ DONAVYN ~

I was livid as I strode towards the meeting room, but I had to wrestle for control. Walking into a battle-planning room full of Wing Leaders was a very different environment than a council room full of Captains.

While the Captains and their Lieutenants of rank were men in the prime of their careers—experienced in battle, proven integrity and strength, consistent leadership under fire, both literally and figurative—the Wing Leaders were men expected to grow into those shoes, recognized as having the potential to become Lieutenants and Captains for our entire force.

They were the men we attempted to mold and discipline into true leaders.

Their first step in that journey was as the appointed leaders in their squads.

Wing Leaders was a collective term to describe both Wing Captains—individual men in charge of their squads—and Wing Lieutenants, their Seconds-in-Command. Some squads had two of those.

Most Wing Captains had seen battle at least once. The Lieutenants may not have flown in war at all. They were all men showing promise and strength, but still proving themselves worthy of greater rank.

And they were younger.

Where the Captains and legion Commanders were all older than me—because I’d been ranked young—and their Lieutenants were my peers in age, Wing Leaders of both ranks ranged from mid-twenties, to early-thirties.

Often still young enough for boundless energy and somewhat cocky ambition.

Most of them hadn’t yet lost the idealism of youth—they yearned to prove themselves warriors rather than being sobered by the anticipated losses of battle.

But the flippant attitudes of Wing Leaders towards war was not an issue I had time to address today.

I was now late for the meeting I had called. Annoying, but unavoidable.

I walked into the Commander’s Council earlier to be challenged and aided. I walked into this room to assert control—or be wrung dry.

The moment my steps rang on the floor, everyone turned from the large table in the middle where we left maps of the Kingdom and the Continent spread out.

“Sir!”

“Is it true, Sir?”

“Is she really Flameborne?”

“I thought Akhane was too young to Choose?”

“She’s not actually going to Trial, is she?”

“Where will she bathe?”

That question stopped the cacophony in the room and amid sputters of laughter and mockery, every head turned to stare at Cephas, the youngest of the Wing Lieutenants, and new to the rank.

His cheeks blazed at the scrutiny, but he stared the others down. “What? I have four sisters. They’d have fits if they had to share a pool with my squad.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Cephas,” I said wryly, after all, it was a question I still needed to answer. “Perhaps if she enters your squad, you could help her determine the answer?”

Cephas blushed beet-red while the others teased him mercilessly. But I barked a command and every man in the room snapped to attention, silent, and awaiting orders.

I scanned every face in the group before muttering at them to be at ease. “Please wait until I’m finished briefing you to raise your questions. Most of them will be answered before I’m done.”

Reminded that this was a serious meeting, the men settled down and waited, but their posture was tense, and their gazes avid. They were fascinated.

I sighed. “Yes, this morning there was a woman Chosen. And her dragon aims for battle. She is Flameborne.”

Several of the men blew out breaths or shook their heads. I kept going.

“Yes, it’s also true that Akhane is young to have Chosen, though she’s large for a female. She’s also gray, so it’s possible her skills don’t lie in the Flame Wing. Yet, Kgosi says she shouldn’t be underestimated, so she won’t be. Am I understood?”

A dragon’s scale color usually indicated which area of expertise their talents would lean towards. But the complex nature of our ranks meant there were dragons of every color in every Wing.

Redscales were combat fighters through and through, though some would choose stealth as their approach.

Greens were generally skilled healers, or talented at soothing tensions and building unity.

Blues possessed incredible stamina while goldscales had the ability to link and communicate over massive distances and were useful to coordinate any wing or squad.

Akhane was a grayscale, the dragons who camouflaged well and usually embodied calm, which meant if she was intended for battle she’d probably be a great stealth fighter, but she was also very large, and strong enough for frontline combat. We’d have to wait and see how her talents evolved.

“Yes, Sir!” the room chorused.

I nodded once, then let my expression turn grim.

“I don’t know if any of you were present for the absolute shitshow in their stable, but that is the last time that will occur.

I don’t care how different or surprising she is, we do not overwhelm women, and we do not agitate already tense dragons.

All of you will speak to your squads tonight and be very clear on that point—if they have questions they should bring them to you, and you can bring them to me, or your Captains.

But we will not be using intimidation or crowding against a Flameborne under any circumstances, do I make myself clear? !”

“Yes, Sir!”

“The Captains will determine exactly what changes in protocol will be required for her,” I said uneasily, “We’re working out the details now.

By morning we’ll have a new set of guidelines and rules designed to make her position and all codes of conduct clear.

But a big part of our experience in embracing a female will be how her squad brothers regard her, and how they lead others in conduct towards her.

Your job this afternoon is to propose where she might best fit.

I will choose her squad based on your recommendations.

So, speak up.” I looked around the group, eyeing them individually.

“Who among your squads has the maturity, the strength, and the patience to bring along a Flameborne who will require a great deal of conditioning and likely some unique, er, challenges along the way to the Trials?”

The trials were our testing grounds. Intentionally brutal and difficult, designed to push new riders and dragons to their limits—both to bond them as a Pair, and to weed out those not strong enough to be relied upon in battle.

Given that one in ten fit young men couldn’t make it through the trials even after training, I couldn’t see how she’d manage it. But I remembered Kgosi’s growled warning not to tell God what He couldn’t do, and kept my mouth shut.

Besides, if I undermined her in any way, she’d never survive. It was a lesson I’d learned early in leadership: My conduct taught others where their boundaries lay. Anything I allowed in myself, they’d expect me to allow in them.

These men would see no hint of a question, mockery, or dismissal of Bren from me.

Unfortunately, right now they were also unusually silent .

Taking on a new Flameborne was typically anticipated eagerly.

It offered every man in the squad greater power—since rank and file superiority was assigned primarily by time served—and if the Flameborne was strong, or had been Chosen by a particularly talented dragon, even a newcomer could boost a squad’s overall strength.

Additionally, given our annual Squad Games, which were essentially battle tests thinly veiled as competitive sport, and the bragging rights that went with winning, every Squad was always on the lookout for new blood.

Except, apparently, a woman and a barely adult, unproven battle dragon.

I stared at each of the men in turn, eventually arching one brow in disapproval.

I’d expected a lukewarm reception. But not silence.

I supposed I should have been grateful they weren’t clamoring to have her with more personal activities in mind.

I sighed. “I find myself suddenly very grateful that she is not here to see this,” I muttered.

“When we leave this room, these events remain here. Neither she, nor any other Furyknight will be informed that she was the first Flameborne ever to be outright rejected by the Squads on first offer. Am I clear?”

“Sir! Yes, Sir!” they all barked in response.

“Very good, now, let’s try again: I have an untried grayscale dragon who’s Chosen a female Flameborne.

She’s from a farm and not afraid of hard work.

She’s intelligent and willing to learn. She’s also utterly unschooled, and will likely need extra strength and fight training to keep up.

We are men of honor and ambition. Who here believes their squad has the testicular heft to take her on and succeed? ”

“Sir, could I ask a question?” one of the Lieutenants at the back said carefully.

“Is it about the Flameborne or her dragon?”

“Yes.”

“Go ahead.”

There was a beat, then the man cleared his throat.

“It’s only that we think we’re on the cusp of war, yes?

And that means it’s more crucial than ever to be strong and trained, and ready.

Taking on a woman brings many complications, even beyond simple things like bathing and sleeping arrangements.

She’ll require time and resources—extra training, you said.

And patience. It feels as if bringing her into a squad will weaken that team.

And aren’t we vowed to make decisions to strengthen our squads? ”

It was a valid question and respectfully asked, but I wanted to curse. If any of them hadn’t thought in those terms, they were now.

“The dragons have named her Little Flame,” I said quietly. A couple of the men looked shocked to hear she’d already been named. “Kgosi tells me that’s because a little flame can be snuffed out easily. But with the right fuel it will grow into a blazing inferno. ”

Some of the men looked thoughtful. But most seemed skeptical. I sighed.