Page 6 of Flameborne: Fury (Emberquell Academy #2)

~ brEN ~

A week later, my squad was in class and I was miserable. And getting tense as they tested me.

“Come on, Bren. Concentrate. We covered this,” Ronen said, only a hint of impatience filtering through his calm. “Try again. The difference between the Flyer, Flame, and Fang wings? And be as detailed as you can.”

I hated that they all stared—even Einar, who looked bored and a little pissed off at the best of times, but now was glowering.

I swallowed hard. “All three wings are battle ready, manned with Furyknights trained to fight and protect,” I said, reciting as closely as I could what I remembered from earlier lectures.

Ronen nodded, but didn’t offer any other prompts.

I swallowed hard. “They’re all soldiers and can be called to battle.

But Flyers are used the least in combat. ”

“Why?” Ronen pressed. “And don’t forget the dragons.”

I nodded and cleared my throat. “Because their job is to be the air at all times and the bulk of our battles engage with ground troops. The dragons,” I nodded.

“All colors of dragons are in all Wings. But in the Flyers, the golds often become messengers between strategic base and fighting ranks because they can reach the furthest telepathically with messages. The green are healers or trackers who can still fight if they need to. The others are fighters who focus on in-air combat.”

“And the difference between air-combat, and ground?”

“The Flyers are, uh, used primarily against other dragons—combat in flight—or where there’s enemy troops spread over a wide area. Their riders are trained in weapons—mostly archery for flight against other dragons, and flashjars to drop on strategic targets on the ground.”

“Good,” Ronen said, obviously relieved. “And their pins?”

Every Furyknight’s pin was a bronze setting shaped like a stylized dragon’s head with wings rising above it, and flames between them. But each Wing had the enamel sections colored differently. “The Flyers have the black face and flame, with red wings.”

“Great. Now, what about the Flame Wing?” He didn’t even give me a moment to breathe.

“The Flame Wing are battle dragons through and through. The offensive. They’re the front line, whether it’s in-air or on the ground.

A lot of reds and grays, but there’s a lot of golds too, because their ability to mindlink over greater distances is used to keep everyone else positioned.

Greenscale riders who are also healers are in Flame if their skills are more focused on injury than disease, and the blues help them move quickly because have the stamina to fly and fight on the same day. ”

“And the Flame pin?”

“Black head and wings, with the red flames rising between them.”

“Excellent. And our third wing?”

My brothers leaned in. Ronen had told them if I answered this quiz correctly first time, he’d buy them a round of ale next time we went to the tavern.

I wet my lips nervously. “The Fang Wing are fighters too, but use more stealth. They’re sent in first, secretly, to set up ambush, or to locate enemy ranks.

Otherwise, they reconnoiter and fly nights for surprise attacks.

The gold in the Fang Wing gather and deliver intelligence or help us know when and where to move troops.

Grays are used for stealth in flight, or on the ground. And…”

Shit. There was something else. Something important I couldn’t remember. One of the main differences between the Flame and Fang.

Ronen’s brows rose. “And?”

I stared at my Wing Leader and the others stared at me. I was starting to sweat.

“Come on, Bren,” Voski muttered from behind me. Ronen shot him a glare.

I tried desperately to remember. We’d been here in this room the first time they outlined it all for me, and I’d talked to Gil about it once, because he was Fang.

Shit. “I don’t remember.”

My brothers groaned. Someone slapped the table in front of them and I flinched, my cheeks heating.

Ronen sighed, but he seemed resigned rather than angry. “You need to spend more time learning with your brothers, Bren. You need to get this right. We usually have an idea of what Wing you’re destined for after the second Trial. If you can’t even separate them—”

“I will! I can! I just forgot that one detail!”

Ronen’s lips thinned. “Who wants to remind our sister—?”

“It’s the fucking stealth wing, Bren,” Voski muttered behind me. “They have a huge contingent of trackers and scouts who are strong enough to fight, but are sent in to locate the enemy, or find the best ways to approach in difficult terrain, or overcome other obstacles.”

I hunched. “I said they locate the enemy,” I mumbled.

Ronen gave me a flat look. “Voski’s right—the biggest portion of Fang Pairs are trackers and scouts. They’re used for every aspect of planning battle, and very skilled in flanking and ambush. You should have started with that, Bren.”

I nodded. “Sorry.”

Ronen shrugged. “Remember for next time. I’ll get serious questions from the other leaders if we have to explain your wing to you when we pin you.

” He winked which helped me feel a little better, but I could feel the sullen glares of my brothers.

Now they would have to buy their own drinks the next time we went out.

Damn.

“Moving on,” Ronen said, leaning back against the desk at the front and folding his arms. “Time to tighten on conduct, brothers. There’s another caution from the Captains because they’ve had more than one report of Furyknights fighting in the city.”

I went very still, reminded of that night with Saul’s squad in the tavern, early on, before I’d understood how this squad thing worked—would this remind my brothers of the discipline they’d received because of me?

Of course, thoughts of that turned my head right back to Donavyn—which only reminded me of the recent night when he’d kissed me.

Those memories still made me hot with need—and mortified with embarrassment.

I couldn’t think about his lips on mine and his hands on my body, without remembering how he’d run from me—for the second time.

Months ago, when he put my squad under discipline, it was the day after I got drunk and tried to kiss him and he fled me then, too—

“The Wing Commanders have asked us to remind all of you of the tenets of the Furyknight, and the fierce codes of conduct. This isn’t a little thing, brothers—and sister.”

“Come on, Ronen,” Einar complained. “No one’s even touching citizens, why—”

“Not that we’d condone violence against citizens,” Ronen said tightly.

“But if you’re hurting each other, it’s worse.

A Kingdom divided against itself cannot stand.

Keep your heads on straight out there—and have each other’s backs.

If someone gets hot, pull him away and help him calm down.

If you seriously injure another Furyknight, your punishment will be double the injury you inflicted. ”

“Black eyes and bruises are hardly—”

Harle snapped his mouth closed when Ronen glared.

“Do I have to spell this out for you?” he said darkly.

“Black-eyes and bruises are fine if everyone makes it home and keeps their mouths shut. But what happens when things get out of hand? Especially if you’ve been drinking?

Our law in these matters is enforced by the dragons.

Have you forgotten that? If a Furyknight causes the death of another Furyknight, it’s an offense against them.

There is no recourse. If a brother steals your girl and you challenge him and he falls, hits his head and dies, his death is on your hands.

You will be given to the dragons for judgment.

And the General assures me, Kgosi won’t think twice.

You will be flamed to death—slowly enough that you feel it happening.

The Captains are hearing too much about our men laying hands on others in the City, so pull your heads in. ”

I shuddered at the mental image. My brothers were quiet too, which surprised me.

“They think we’d kill each other over a bar fight?” Jhoare raised from the back.

Ronen’s face was grim. “It’s happened before, though not for a long while. So, keep each other out of trouble. No one will look sideways when you’re standing up for each other. But use your heads, and your words, rather than fists. Don’t let things get out of hand, right?”

My brothers all mumbled their agreement, but Ronen met my eyes before he turned away to check the parchment next to him. I frowned. Did he think I would get into a barfight?

“We still have to cover the change to our schedules for the King’s Banquet. They’re doubling-up shifts to make sure there’s enough protection, and we’ve been placed on midnight patrol tomorrow.”

My brothers groaned. Two weeks earlier the King had suddenly announced a ball—which I gathered was unusual. And now we were all scrambling with extra patrols as well as duties around the Keep and even at the Palace.

Midnight patrol meant flying from high moon until dawn, the shift my brother’s said was the hardest, and also the most likely for enemies to attempt harm.

With the added pressure of visiting nobles and rulers for the King’s Banquet, and more frequent shifts for extra cover, it would be an exhausting week.

At least, for my brothers. Because I still wasn’t allowed to fly patrols, so I had to keep my eyes and voice down while they all complained about the shift they’d been assigned.

But as their complaints turned to resignation and discussion of who was taking which region, and which squads they’d be working with, my mind turned back to Donavyn and a shiver skated down the back of my neck.

I kept seeing that moment when he’d stood over me, eyes black with need, body trembling with restraint, his voice hoarse as he asked for permission to—

A sudden clap echoed through the room and startled me out of my reverie.

“That’s it. Get moving. Bren—maybe get to the library with a couple of your brothers this week.

You need to have those wings and duties nailed, in case you get asked.

You also need to memorize which wing each of your brothers is in so you can ask the right questions. ”

Stools scraped on the stone as my brothers unfurled from their seats and started out of the classroom.

I hurried to follow them, but my pace slowed once I was in the hall because they were deep in discussions about patrols and the King’s unlikely gathering of nobles and rulers, and what it might mean.

As their long strides ate up the hallways and staircases, I stopped hurrying and let myself fall back.

Except for Harle looking back as he started down the stairs and waving goodbye, they didn’t notice. They were all busy.

For once, I was grateful that they’d been distracted.

It had been days since Donavyn kissed me, then regretted it—and I’d barely been out of the stable during that time, except for training. I was terrified I’d run into him, or hear whispers.

But there hadn’t been a word. Even Ronen’s pointed looks didn’t seem to have anything to do with the General, or my conduct that night, or anything except my need to get things right.

‘You can’t get any new thing right without help, Bren,’ Akhane broke into my thoughts. I could reach her from the buildings to the stable now, which was new.

‘I’m not afraid to get help. But they’re so busy!’

‘And their brothers were busy when it was their turn to learn—that is life, Little Flame. Don’t shrink from it. Show gratitude.’

I thought of all their groans when I’d answered the questions wrong, and how I’d failed to earn them free drinks. I shook my head.

‘I’ll talk to them tomorrow. Today I’ll go to the library and read some more. Then I can get a couple of them to test me tomorrow or something.’

Akhane didn’t respond. She only sighed in my head.

But I was glad for an excuse to divert to the quiet library from the main corridor where all my brothers were walking out of the building. I wasn’t likely to run into Donavyn there. He’d be busy keeping the King safe with the influx of visitors, anyway, I reminded myself.

Still, I was careful to check around corners before entering a new hallway, or stepping into the library. Just in case.