Page 24 of Flameborne: Chosen (Emberquell Academy #1)

~ brEN ~

The Commander was angry. Disapproving. Irritated.

My hands shook.

He’d said it wasn’t my fault, but his face was stern and cold. He’d had to delay the important meeting. But it couldn’t be a formal affair if a dress was inappropriate.

“What’s your last name, Bren?” he asked suddenly.

“Kearney, Sir.”

“Be aware, because you’re female, most of the men will refer to you by your last name. You should grow accustomed to responding to it.”

“I… I’ll do my best.”

He sighed, his wide shoulders tensing and jerking up like someone had flicked him in the ear. He shot a murderous look over his shoulder, towards the dragon, then looked at me again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to warn you last night,” he said darkly. “It seems I overlooked several details. But I’ll fill you in now.”

I hurried forward to walk just behind his arm, listening intently as he described the expectations placed on a Flameborne, both in costume, and conduct.

“You’re a worker. A trainee. An apprentice,” he said slowly. “When you’re assigned a Squad, you’ll be the lowest rank, which means your role is to listen, and to serve those who have already walked the road you now take.”

I nodded. Listening and serving was roughly what I’d done with my parents as well. That didn’t seem too hard.

“Even in your off-hours, you should always be prepared to be called into service. Sometimes because your leaders will choose to challenge you by bringing you unexpected tasks. And sometimes because if there is an alarm, every able-bodied rider and dragon will be called in, ranked or not. Do you understand?”

“Be ready to work at all times, even during my free hours,” I said quickly, nodding.

The Commander glanced back at me, his expression less tense now, more thoughtful.

“Exactly. Your clothing should reflect your purpose: as a Flameborne, that means being prepared to get dirty, to ride at a moment's notice, and to be the least comfortable of your squad.

In other words, wear nothing precious, sleep when you have the chance—even in the middle of the day—and take any seat or position that's available. You said you worked on your parents farm, did that include dealing with the waste of the animals, and that sort of dirty task?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Then you won’t need to be taught not to turn your nose up at such chores if they’re assigned to you.”

“No, Sir.”

We had left the stable building and walked into the sun. The dragons continued to follow us down the wide, stone-lined path outside. I blinked and couldn’t stop staring.

I’d known the stable building was massive—it had to be to house these creatures. But to my surprise, the other buildings here in the Dragon Keep were just as large.

The nearest were three rectangular buildings—long, multi-storied brick structures that were identical, built on an angle to the stable and in parallel with each other, each with wide, grassy gaps between them.

“Our dragons often stay close when we enter buildings. If they follow, they’ll rest on the grass when we enter the barracks or Academy buildings and that way will never be too far removed from us.

While you won’t be housed in the barracks, remember that, Kearney,” he said with another quick glance at me.

“Especially in these first weeks and months when your bond is new, it will create stress and anxiety for both of you if you’re separated.

So, make use of the grounds. We always have space around any building to allow dragons to be close in times of stress, or if you have a task to complete together.

You’ll discover that as long as your dragon is within sight, or you’re not further from each other than a hundred paces as the crow flies when your sight is obscured, you will both be able to link and remain calm.

The longer you’re bonded, the further you can stray from each other without losing your link, and the easier it will become to be out of each other’s sight or sound. ”

I nodded, filing the information away for later, but tense even at the thought of being separated from Akhane, though I couldn’t have said why.

‘Our bond is new, and raw,’ she supplied in response to my thoughts. ‘We have not grown in it. Like small children with their mother, we leap to fear. With time and patience, we’ll grow. ’

She seemed completely at peace with the bond, so I wasn’t sure she was leaping to anything.

“Will she be able to come to the… what did you call it?”

“The Acknowledgement. Yes, all the healthy dragons who aren’t at work will be there, even those without bonds,” he said, then turned sharply to take an intersecting path past the barracks buildings, and towards another set of structures behind them.

My eyes widened.

Far from the massive, but starkly functional rectangular boxes of the barracks, the Academy buildings were imposing and nearly fanciful in their architecture.

They appeared as if carved from a single, shining, black rock.

I couldn’t understand it. There were no visible seams or mortars, no lines for brick or any other obvious molding or tooling.

Apart from carvings of men and dragons fighting enemies in the skies adorning every gable and peak, there was no recognizable beginning or end to the vast, stone walls with deep, arched windows and slick black roofs.

I found myself staring up at the massive building before us, trying desperately to understand how it had come to be. It looked magical.

For the first time, the Commander smiled. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“What is it? How is it?” I asked bluntly.

“When the Keep was built centuries ago, it was because the dragon riders were organizing and wanted a place to gather and train. The Emberquell Academy buildings were made for the men by the dragons.”

I turned to gape at him. He was joking, surely?

But, no. He stared up at these incredible buildings with pride.

“The stone was stacked here by dragons ridden by their bonded ones. The dragons then took shifts combining flames to heat the stone until it was molten, then formed it into these seamless walls, leaving it to cool quickly so it became… this,” he said with a wave towards the building.

“But, the windows and the carvings—”

“Once the building structures were in place, they flamed holes into the walls to create the windows. The ceilings and shutters were added later, along with the paving and interior structures. Though you’ll see the rafters are pure obsidian as well.”

“Obsidian?”

“That’s the name of the rock—and the color of the Primarch,” the Commander said with a smile that made his face seem years younger, and even more handsome. My stomach fluttered, but that made fear lurch in my belly, so I tore my eyes from him and back to the building.

“There have been fixes over the years of course. The floors and stairs are stone now—obsidian is awfully slick—and at times portions crack and need to be replaced. But this is the foundation of our history—and yours now, Bren,” he said thoughtfully, then looked down on me.

I shrank under that searching gaze, but he chuckled and shook his head.

“Don’t be afraid to claim what belongs to you: you are among the ranks of dragonfury pairs who might become a knight.

And you are the first of your kind, but who knows what will happen in generations to come? ”

I gaped again, turning back to the building.

It towered over us, several floors high of slick, imposing black.

The weight of it impressed history on the eye.

But even from this angle I could see a massive wall curving out of the northeastern side and sweeping away, large enough to dwarf the rest of the building.

“Is that where the dragons rest?” I asked, leaning slightly past him to peer around him at the long, curving wall.

“No,” he said with a small smile. “That’s the auditorium—there’s no roof, see?

It’s an outdoor structure that we use for large gatherings and ceremonies.

The dragons perch on the wall when their Furyknights win awards and, well, there’s more,” he said quietly.

“But we don’t have time. We’ll go around the back and pass through the kitchens by the servant’s door, then on to the Quartermaster.

” But instead of suiting his words, he looked back up the ancient building again.

He cleared his throat. “If you ever find yourself filled with pride in your own accomplishments, come stand here and look up. You’ll discover that you’re small.

That you’re only one man—or woman—in centuries of history, and only one heart in this place that protects countless souls.

We are servants before anything else, Bren. I hope you’ll remember that.”

I nodded because I did. The picture he painted—of dragons giving menial labor to provide for their riders, and this place that watched over so many generations of men and their dragons.

I shivered. My skin tingled.

The Commander moved his hand as if to pat my shoulder, but jerked it back to his side before he touched me. “Come,” he said, that gentle smile gone from his features. “Let’s steal you some breakfast and be on our way.”

Ten minutes later, tearing into a crusty bread roll still warm from the oven and filled with hot ham and melting cheese, I followed the Commander through the busy halls of the building, gaping like a child.

The floors were indeed laid with slate that had been mortared into place. The painted walls were hung with portraits of former Commanders, Furyknight war heroes, and detailed depictions of various dragons.

I swallowed chunks of bread and meat as I scanned the walls for the new sights to see at every turn.

Here and there, vows for Knights, or quotes from previous leaders had been painted in beautiful calligraphy.

But most of the walls were blank of decoration, holding only maps or instructions for wartime alarms, leaving the beauty to the carvings on the stair railings, or the molding along the floor.