Page 20

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Rhea

T he carriage rolls to a stop on the outskirts of Emberton. Vaylen throws the small door open and jumps out as if to escape the tight confines of the carriage and the lingering fumes of his recent admission: he’s not a cogwing, doing only what he’s supposed to. He has instincts that overpower his strict rules.

I hurry after him, wondering if we’re in one of Emberton’s peripheral landing fields. I had assumed we would ride the carriage all the way to Sky’s Edge, but if we’re stopping now, this means Vaylen is riding on Fragor.

When I step outside and notice the giant wall stretching as far as I can see, my heart leaps. We are at a landing field, and I’ll get to see Fragor’s landing up close, unlike last night.

In an instant, my excitement destroys the grogginess still left from my interrupted sleep. Suddenly, I’m fully awake, quick on Vaylen’s heels, eyes roving all around. I take in the stone wall, stretching right and left. It surrounds a huge swath of land, a perimeter big enough to allow one dragon to land. A tall portcullis serves as the main entrance. Two guards stand at either side, holding spears, illuminated by the glow of torches attached to the wall.

In unison, the guards step forward and shift their spears to the front, a slightly threatening gesture meant to intimidate.

“Name and rank,” one of the guards demands.

“High Prime Vaylen Stormsong, Skysinger Clutch.”

The guards’ gazes flick to me. I hesitate. Vaylen glares at me over his shoulder.

“Um, Skyrider Rhealyn Wyndward,” I reply, loving the sound of my first official introduction.

The same guard who demanded our rank takes a step closer. “Documents.”

Vaylen already has his at hand. I dig for mine in the special compartment of my jacket, fumbling with the small buttons and earning another glare from Vaylen. When I finally hand them over, the guard checks them thoroughly, relaxing only when he has laid eyes on the thin gold seal next to Commander Voltguard’s signature. The seal is a meticulously detailed tiny replica of Embernia’s coat-of-arms. It was created by a Forge, using their elemental skill to shape the metal.

At a hand gesture from the guard, a loud clank comes from the portcullis as it opens. A woman in a dark blue uniform walks out. She wears the insignias of a captain on her left arm. Her dark hair is up in a bun so tight it stretches her eyes into slits.

“Welcome to East Landing, High Prime.” She salutes. “I’m Captain Stoneberg. We received a Boltgram indicating we should expect you and your dragon.” She gives me a sidelong glance.

“There was a change of plans after I sent the message,” Vaylen says. “Skysinger Wyndward is here, too.”

She inclines her head. “I will take note of the change in our records. Your signature will be required, of course.”

“Of course,” Vaylen repeats.

Captain Stoneberg gestures toward the entrance. “Shall we?” As we walk inside, she adds, “We have prepared the landing pad following all the documented requirements for your dragon.”

Vaylen nods. “Very well. I sense he’s near. Please ensure everyone takes cover, including Skysinger Wyndward.” He turns to me. “Go with Captain Stoneberg.”

I’d rather stay by Vaylen’s side, but it’s not as if I can argue.

While Vaylen keeps walking toward the landing field, the Captain leads me around the corner to an elongated, free-standing structure. It looks like a box made of stone. Past the narrow, doorless entrance, there’s an excited-looking Claw, peering through a narrow slit. He smiles at me, while the Captain instructs another Claw about a saddle.

“It’s my first time seeing a dragon this close,” he says, as if to excuse his undeniable excitement.

“Forgive him,” the Captain says. “He’s new.”

“I completely understand. I’m new, too.” I feel his same excitement even though I’ve been close to not only one but three dragons. Fragor is impressive, though not as impressive as Zephyros with his obsidian traits.

“You are?” the Claw asks, taking in my uniform. “Oh, you’re one of the new Skyriders. Congratulations!” He beams, the way I wish my father had.

The thump, thump of wings alerts us to Fragor’s approach. The Claw practically jumps, an ear-to-ear grin splitting his face, while Captain Stoneberg stands with her hands interlaced at her back, wearing an impassive expression. Yet, I feel the sense of anticipation emanating from her. In this post, she’s probably seen hundreds of landings, but dragons never get old. They’re Embernia’s blood.

Our past. Our present. Our future.

They made us who we are. Without them, the Screechclaws would have wiped us off the face of this world already. And even though Heratrix seems to have abandoned us to our fate, I know she will come back one day to ensure her legacy isn’t lost, and that day, we’ll rise from the ashes of what we’ve become and reclaim our glory.

Moments before Fragor appears, wind rattles the glass that covers the slit in the wall. The view is somewhat warped by the thick layer of glass, but it’s still breathtaking to witness. Theoretically, I know a Skyrider can use their enhanced skills to anchor themselves to their dragon. The pair can interlock their elemental powers to provide stability. This allows the Skyrider to do all sorts of things: remain in place while their dragon lands (the way Vaylen is doing right now), stay mounted while flying, and even descend or ascend to a flying dragon. I’ve studied all these things thoroughly but seeing them happen shatters every preconception I had. The sight is even more impressive than I could have imagined.

Back straight, feet slightly off the ground, Vaylen faces the onslaught. Wind whips his hair and coat, so violently he would surely be blown away if not for the Tethers of energy anchoring him to Fragor. They sprout from his fingertips and extend toward his dragon, stabilizing him. He reminds me of a hot air balloon I once saw. It bobbed in the wind and stayed in place thanks to a number of ropes and weights staked to the ground. Strangely, he uses wind to blow back all debris away from his face. I’ve never heard of that. Where are his goggles?

“Wow,” the Claw breathes out.

Wow, indeed. The wind currents I’ve been able to produce as a mere Singer are weak and no more than a few inches long. They couldn’t anchor me to a cat, much less a dragon.

Fragor’s huge talons appear first. They come into view, disappear, then appear again as he bobs up and down, attempting a soft landing—or as soft as he can manage. His wings are almost as wide as the length of the landing field and come close to brushing the trees in the periphery. I briefly wonder how the poor things don’t get ripped off the ground from the roots. We’re practically in a tornado.

The ground shakes when Fragor’s enormous talons finally settle. As soon as he folds his wings, Vaylen curls his hands into fists, and the anchoring energy disappears. In the same motion, he takes a step forward and reaches a hand up. Fragor slowly lowers his head, bringing it to his rider’s level. To my surprise, Vaylen presses his face to Fragor’s cheek and caresses the dragon’s jaw. It’s a short greeting but one undeniably filled with love. Something squirms in my gut, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s embarrassment to have witnessed what appears to be a tender gesture. It seems to me such displays of affection should be private. I would certainly not do something like that so publicly.

Without a word, Captain Stoneberg exits the enclosure. I follow and so does the Claw. A host of others emerge from similar enclosures, rushing towards a cart I noticed earlier. They swiftly untie it from metal loops staked to the ground and push it toward Fragor. It would take a couple of horses to pull it, but the animals spook easily in the presence of our great protectors—understandable, since dragons can eat them in one bite. I vaguely wonder what’s in the cart.

“That’s the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen.” The Claw glances my way as if expecting me to share the same opinion.

I shrug. “Early yesterday, I’d have agreed, but last night, I fell off Sky’s Edge and lived to tell the tale.”

“What?” The Claw looks at me like I’m crazy.

I wink, and he lets out a laugh, concluding it’s a joke. If he only knew I’ve been spat out by a dragon and told I needed a mint bath . A shiver rakes across my back at the memory. I can hear my dragon’s thoughts. Holy Heratrix!

Snapping back to the moment, I follow the proceedings with interest. Blue-clad Claws work fast and efficiently, outfitting Fragor with a saddle they pull from the cart. There are many belts and buckles that need securing. Fragor suffers through the proceedings, wearing a foul expression.

Wait a minute, a saddle? Shit! That’s for me. Normally, a dragon is only outfitted with the saddlebags that hold the riders’ weapons and supplies, the rider needs no saddle.

I don’t know why I thought I would go back to Sky’s Edge in the carriage, but clearly that’s not what Vaylen has in mind. Except I don’t want my first dragon ride to be on Fragor. I want to ride Zephyros. Alarmed, I make a beeline for Vaylen and find him talking to the Captain. I wait impatiently off to the side, tapping my boot and chewing on my lower lip. Vaylen notices me but continues his discussion. After a moment, he excuses himself and walks in my direction.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I… is that saddle for me?”

“Yes. Who else would it be for?”

“I request permission to continue to Sky’s Edge in the carriage.” I figure if I’m formal, I’ll have better chances of getting my request granted.

His eyes narrow as he thinks for a moment, then he replies with a single word, “Denied.”

“Please, Sir. I want my first dragon ride to be on Zephyros.”

“That is sentimental and ridiculous,” he replies. “This is the Sky Order, not a nursery, Skysinger Wyndward. Under my command, you’d better focus on practicalities.”

Frustration fills me, making my teeth grind. I want to argue, but what can I say to that? It is a sentimental request. We’ll be at Sky’s Edge in minutes, rather than hours. Besides, it isn’t as if we have time to waste with training time reduced to a mere two weeks.

Curtailing my anger, I say, “I understand. Thank you for considering my request.”

He turns his back on me to face Fragor, and I think I notice a slight note of sympathy in his expression, but perhaps it’s only in my imagination because he doesn’t change his mind.