Page 37 of Flameborne: Chosen (Emberquell Academy #1)

~ DONAVYN ~

It was a strange, compelling hour.

When we reached the leathersmith, Bren was initially hesitant. And I wondered if we were destined to do little more than waste time.

The dragon harnesses were already very simple, though substantial: two neck straps circled the base of the dragon’s neck, one that fastened directly underneath, the other that fastened at the chest. Together they were the foundation of stability for tacking up, and they needed extra strength because they were the straps we clipped onto in flight. Our safety net.

Then there was a large O-ring made of dragon bone that connected at the chest—a height that would be a stretch for Bren to reach.

It was her job to buckle the thickest neck strap to that ring which in turn supported straps that fed under the belly to attach to the thick girth that circled the body, along with the leg straps that buckled above the dragon’s knee to create stability.

Then, finally, the long, thick strap that fell from the withers, to the dragon’s knee. That strap was used for mounting and to tie burdens to dragons who flew as transport or messengers. In battles we left the strap loose as an extra layer of safety for a quick dismount.

The sheer size of the dragons, along with the need for strength to hold and catch the weight of soldiers, meant that the harness was a great weight, and awkward. But like anything else, Furyknights grew skilled in managing them over time.

I should have anticipated she’d have this kind of problem.

I’d been skeptical that she could rework a harness quickly—or safely. But when she described her vision to the leathersmith, I saw the light of intrigue in the man’s eyes .

He wanted to help. And once Bren accepted that the man was genuinely eager to help, she gained confidence. So, I stepped back and let the two work, surprised by how quickly Bren stepped into leadership when she was distracted by a task.

Soon, she was rifling through his drawers, asking questions, even giving instructions as she took Akhane’s harness apart, piece by piece, discussing each with him.

At first when I saw how many she proposed to change, I was afraid she’d make risky choices—but she listened to the leathersmith when he pointed out what was required for structural stability or safety.

Then I watched, bemused, as the two avidly discussed the possibilities of which leather could be used in each place.

Soon the workshop echoed with the sounds of mallets thumping, the slap of sheets of different leathers—even dragonhide, which was thinner and stringer, but precious. I eyed her warily then, wondering how much she proposed to use.

I was tired and sweaty from riding patrol, but caught myself stifling a smile at the sight of the young woman who’d just been in pieces in the stable, eyes bright and tone thrilled, as the leathersmith first affirmed an idea she’d had, then watched over her as she began to remove certain pieces of the harness and replace them with carefully reinforced strips.

To my surprise, the leathersmith—usually quite a solemn man—listened and smiled as she explained what she wanted, then helped her use the massive counterweight machine to carefully stitch the leather as she instructed.

Bren hummed as she took the knife and cut more straps.

It was eye-opening to see her relaxed and confident.

I wished Ronen and her squad brothers were there to watch, but I knew inviting them would only make her self-conscious.

So, I said nothing and waited, watching, until Bren had all her pieces cut and measured.

When the smith turned from the machine to take the next piece, she bit her lip, fingering the long mounting strap made of our heaviest leather. Then she looked at me.

“What are the rules about the harnesses?”

I frowned. “Rules? Only that they’re kept safe and clean—well oiled, continually safety checked. Why?”

“Are there rules against loops or handles?”

“No. Unless you’re using them to keep you on the dragon—we don’t tie down. We clip in for safety. Tying down is asking to get tangled or trapped under an injured dragon if there’s a problem in battle.”

She inhaled sharply, then turned to the Leathersmith. “Do you have any type of hide that would remain strong, but keep the grain rough?” she asked, and I saw her nerves return, though I didn’t understand why.

The Leathersmith frowned and rubbed his chin. “I do, but it will stretch a great deal. Perhaps not a problem for the mounting strap, but you’ll have to be prepared. You may need to cut it after a few weeks if it gets too low.

She nodded, but she was still chewing her lip.

“Any remnants that might work to make a pair of climbers’ clutch?”

His head jerked back a hair and his brows pinched down over his nose, but then his expression brightened. “Oh, I see! I think… yes. But is it pliable enough for the knot? I’m not certain, let me see.”

He turned to open a long, thin drawer in the widest set against the wall and pawed through it, muttering to himself.

“I think we’ll need the dragon hide if you need grip,” he said thoughtfully, pulling strips of leather out of the drawer. “Or perhaps to add roughened bone… but no, you’ll risk the bone snapping at an inopportune moment, or the leather abrading too quickly. But the tension… will the knot work?”

He continued speaking quietly, Bren watching and pointing out the width she wanted—but they both agreed the flat nature of the leather meant it wouldn’t grip.

I was stunned. I’d never considered a climber’s clutch for mounting strips—and I wasn’t convinced it was a wise idea, even if it worked. But I wanted to see how she managed it, so I kept my mouth shut.

Then she bit her lip, looking disappointed and turning back to the table where she’d been working. Her eyes fell on the wide piece of dragon hide and then her brows rose.

“Wait, could we roll it? Grain side out?”

The leathersmith looked at her, his expression thrilled. “I think… yes—the dragon hide. It would be pliable enough, and if it was rolled…”

I watched, bemused, as the two of them excitedly dug through the drawer for strips of the leather, then worked to roll it so the flat surface of the strip turned back on itself. It took some time for them to get it tight enough, but eventually they’d created a round rope of leather.

There was great consternation about how to fix it, but it was Bren who figured out that tying it onto the mounting strap would work—only she needed two.

By the time they’d finished, I was slumped in a chair in the corner. The noise in the workshop stopped and the quiet snapped me out of a doze.

Bren stood, the harness spread out on the table in front of her, the leathersmith at her side, both of them staring at it. He checked every join and stitch, while she stood back and waited.

When he looked at her, he smiled. “I think it will work—can you lift it?”

I saw the fear flash in her eyes. She swallowed once, but turned and slipped her arms under the spots where the leg straps were stitched to the main harness, then paused.

Her gaze rose to meet mine like she was afraid I’d order her not to, but then she bit her lip and lifted and relief washed through her .

“I think I can do this!” she whispered, hefting the big harness in her arms, over and over. “I think I can!”

She dropped it then and turned to hug the leathersmith exuberantly, gushing her gratitude that he’d stayed so late to help her.

The man was clearly surprised and took a moment to return her embrace, but then he patted her back awkwardly and smiled. “It’s been very interesting. You’ve given me some ideas for how we might improve the new harnesses. So, thank you.”

His cheeks were pink when she let him go, but then she slid her arms under the harness again and looked at me. “Can we try now?” she asked, apparently afraid to hope.

“Of course,” I said, clearing my throat that was rough from my unplanned nap. Then I led her out of the building while she carried the harness herself.

She was panting by the time we reached the Keep and turned up the main aisle of the stables, but she didn’t ask me to help, so I didn’t offer.

When we reached Kgosi’s stable, I discovered that I had some nerves of my own.

Please, God, let her manage this. I think she needs it.