Page 49 of Flameborne: Chosen (Emberquell Academy #1)

“You don’t need to do anything for me,” I said sharply. “I’ll fly Wing and you can fly pivot. If they think— ”

“Whoa, Bren. Are you sure? I mean, I’ve only been flying a few days, but Bich is fast and—”

“I’m certain,” I said through my teeth. “Let them tell whoever they want that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ll show them the truth.”

I was furious. And possibly about to get myself killed.

When dragons flew in formation, every position they took centered on the pivot—the dragon who played the axle to the rest of the wheel.

I’d assumed because Akhane was small and the men would be stronger, I’d fly pivot when we did formations, because she was more agile, but naturally a little slower. Clearly Saul had assumed the same thing.

Saul was right to be surprised I’d demanded to fly Wing. But it was clear that I needed to show these men I was no royal showpiece.

Then I looked at my dragon and my heart stopped. ‘I’m sorry, Akhane, I should have asked you—’

‘I like it when you’re bold, Bren. These flights will not be difficult for me. You choose as you see fit.’

‘I’m choosing to show them what I’m made of.’

‘Even better,’ she sent along with a rush of delighted thrill.

I smiled at her, then turned back to Saul. “If you think Bich can fly pivot, then I want to do this—and Akhane agrees.”

Saul’s smile broadened. “Bich can do anything. Let’s do it.”

I nodded. We quickly discussed the hand signals, clarifying that we used the same ones, then the whistle blew and we were running for our dragons as cheers rose from the surrounding trees.

I guess more of the Furyknights came to watch these tests than I’d thought.

As I clambered up Akhane’s strap—seconds behind Saul, but it didn’t matter because the Wing dragons took off last anyway—I felt eyes on the back of my neck and my nerves surged.

As I settled into my seat, I took one hurried look over my shoulder and sure enough, Donavyn stood under the trees at the edge of the clearing arms folded and his posture relaxed. But his eyes were fixed on me.

He nodded once, then turned back to Captain Gunnar, who pointed towards one of the other men and leaned in to murmur in Donavyn’s ear.

Pushing aside the new wave of flutters, I took a tight hold of Akhane’s neck strap and watched Bich launch, and once she was airborne, I urged Akhane forward.

Luckily the launch went well. The ground sloped slightly up here, which made Akhane a little slower, but the take off angle less jarring. Soon my stomach swooped as she took flight, and then we were wheeling right and flying to join Saul and Bich.

There were several groups of dragons already airborne, gliding and wheeling in small clusters, preparing to fly with us—or against us—through the exercises .

‘Bich says give the other group a wide berth. Don’t allow them to interfere in our flight. One of the riders is looking for an opportunity to unsettle you.’

‘Why? I haven’t even met these men before!’

‘I don’t know, Bren. But Bich is a good heart. I would listen to her.’

‘I am. I don’t want to fight these men. I just want to be seen to be as deserving of being here as they are.’

‘And you will,’ she offered with pride in her tone. ‘Now, we must take formation with Bich.’

We took a line north towards the coast and had a minute to put our dragons in the right position—their wingtips only feet apart.

Within moments one of the Officers who’d been already flying slipped in behind us.

He would call formation orders for us to follow, then assess that we kept the correct distance from each other and demonstrated that we understood which dragon would lead or follow in which formation.

As pivot, Saul and Bich would be expected to lead most formations. But as my brothers had been pounding into my head, knowing when to break rank, and in which direction, was just as important as being able to hold position correctly.

Within moments, Saul and Bich had set a course and held it for us to assume position on Bich’s right wingtip.

Less than a minute after that, a shout rose behind us.

“Squad, Ascend!”

These first maneuvers were easy, even for me. Ascend to rise higher—me and Akhane keeping ourselves level with Saul and Bich—descend to drop. Wheel off, which meant banking left, and wheel near, which meant to bank right.

By the time we’d gotten through the simple formations, I’d stopped feeling nervous and was enjoying myself. Akhane didn’t have any trouble keeping up with Bich. The sun was high. And we were far from the other Flameborne.

We could do this.

“Flameborne! Level sweep nearside and await next instructions!” With the full expectation he’d be obeyed, the Officer who’d been following us peeled away and returned to the clearing below.

Saul and I looked at each other past our dragons’ wings and smiled. He raised his fist in salute and I returned the gesture, my heart thudding happily.

We were doing this!

Level sweep meant we had to stay at the same height and circle the area. It was a command used for watching over others on the ground, or if difficult maneuvers were being attempted in the air. Circling, to keep eyes out for danger.

As we circled high over the clearing below, I caught a view of how many dragons and Furyknights were below. Far more than I’d expected—had they come to watch, or be part of the exercises ?

‘Bren, watch out as we pass the others. Bich warns not to rise to bait.’

‘Bait?’

‘If the men speak. They may try to unsettle you while the commanding officers are all out of earshot.’

I frowned and looked ahead and above. The three Flameborne who’d teamed up were flying in a V formation and would pass over our heads, two dragon-lengths above.

Saul watched them too, frowning as well. Nothing was said as they drew close, but just before they passed directly overhead, the dark-haired one leaned down and pointed at me.

His lips moved, but his words were blown away by the wind. I heard the laughter of his teammates though, and felt my cheeks burn.

‘Little Flame, don’t—’

‘I’m not doing anything but flying, Akhane. Whatever they put in front of us, we do, right? Even if I’m going to fall. We keep going.’

‘I won’t let you down, Bren.’

I felt frustrated, but determined. They could laugh all they wanted about how long it had taken me to get here, we were still going to pass this assessment at the same time.

Soon another large dragon with a massive Furyknight flew up from our right and took position above and behind us. My nerves returned a hair—these men were so serious and so obviously warriors. Flying next to them made me desperately aware of my weakness.

I had a fleeting thought that flying next to Donavyn never made me feel that way, but then the Officer barked a command and suddenly we were flying.

Saul and I hunched over our dragons’ necks as the commands followed, one on top of the other, each more complicated than the one before—and the moment we reached the ordered position, a new order came.

No time to breathe, no time to think.

We knotted—flying close but staggered in height so that our dragon’s wings almost brushed each other’s heads.

We spired—wheeling up in a wide spiral, gaining height, but keeping formation together.

We weaved—breaking wingtip formation to sweep back and forth, first pivot over wing, then wing over pivot, the dragons braiding in the air. An evasive maneuver.

We scattered and regrouped. We pitched—turning sharply and descending quickly—and we wheeled.

It felt like an hour, but the position of the sun barely moved. The orders came in rapid-fire. There was no time to talk to each other through our dragons, or coordinate. We were forced to move immediately, trusting that our partner would do as they were supposed to.

Which, I guess, was the point.

Then finally, when we were far over the ocean and almost out of sight of the land, when I was growing dizzy from changing positions so often, the officer behind us ordered us to level and wait .

I heaved a sigh of relief—we hadn’t been told to abandon the flight, which meant we had passed so far.

The coastline of Vosgaarde was far in the distance, but we flew towards it. If we kept this line, we’d pass directly over the Reach.

Were we done?

The knot of nerves in my stomach yanked tighter. But before I could call out to ask Saul if he knew, the officer behind us flapped closer, keeping his dragon above ours, then leaned over to call out.

“Flameborne! You are now in Phalanx. Until you receive another order, you hold your line. Do not retreat!”

Then he banked off and flew away, wheeling and descending, but flying much faster than we were. In level flight, the dragons glided until they began to lose height, then they flapped to keep us level. It was the most energy efficient and least-warlike order of flight.

But Phalanx was a battle cry. When a squad became a weapon. It required silent, tight flight in a clustered group of a squad, designed to confuse watching enemies into believing that fewer dragons approached than were.

I’d been told that the assessment didn’t require battle maneuvers, except as exercises. Was this only a test to see if we would remain quiet and on track? Would they order us to descend when we reached the Academy?

I couldn’t ask, though. Phalanx was designed for each rider and dragon pair to know their place—to await command to break, and then to fly to their individual task.

Giving the order meant taking it as if we were in battle.

I looked at Saul. He frowned too and had a hand flat to Bich’s neck. But both the dragons seemed unflustered. So I settled into my seat, gripped my strap and waited to see if this was a ruse.

I didn’t have to wait long.

The closer we drew to land, the more I became aware of dragons in the air. Large dragons, ridden by Furyknights, clustered and wheeling in small groups about every half-mile.

Were they only assessing our flight? Or was there a—

Then I saw it. Their shape had been obscured by the dark, distant coastline, but now that we were closer, the other three Flameborne became visible, holding their V formation tightly, directly ahead. And on the same line.

We were flying head-to-head. If we all continued on this course, we would crash.