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Rhea

W e spend the rest of the day training until it feels as if my muscles will peel right off the bones. When our dragons bank in different directions, it’s crucial for our Tethers to automatically adjust to keep us balanced. So we fly, performing maneuvers that simultaneously test their strength and flexibility. The one at the far end must lengthen, while the other must shorten.

During some of the sharpest maneuvers, I still need to increase the number of Tethers. Two aren’t enough to stop me from wobbling all over the place like a rag doll. I watch Vaylen carefully to learn how he makes it look like a stroll in High Park. He never uses more than two. He even drops down to none when he coasts. I’ve tried to mimic him, but so far, replicating the stunt has been impossible. The wind combined with Zephyros’s movements, no matter how slight, nearly send me plummeting to the ground. I need to figure out that trick he does with his boots, it seems.

When we finally come back down, Vaylen is pleased with us. He doesn’t mince words when we do something wrong, but he isn’t adverse to offering praise where due. I like that. It makes me think he’s admired for more than his power. He’s an excellent Prime, and it’s just the reason Phoebe and I are ahead of the others. We’re ready to move on to upside down maneuvers and signaling, while the rest of the initiates are still working on the most basic maneuvers.

“You can have the next hour to study, then you’re free to do as you please,” Vaylen says, then leaves to talk to the other Primes.

“Study?” I complain.

“It won’t be so bad. Let’s go.” Phoebe hooks her arm with mine, and we head for the lifts. “The library is rather nice. Have you seen it?”

“No.”

“I’ve been doing some research every night.”

I frown. “Research? About what?”

Her eyes shift from side to side. “Um, Heratrix.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were one of… those.”

She lets go of me and crosses her arms, closing off.

“I—I don’t mean that in a bad way,” I stammer.

“Oh, you don’t?”

“I’m just not a dreamer, Phoebe.”

“You don’t have to be a dreamer to believe Heratrix is still out there.”

“Most of the time, I do but being practical… let’s say the Goddess is still out there. She’s been gone for nearly a thousand years, without a trace. Whole generations have come and gone during that time. To believe ours will be the one to unravel the mystery… I’d say that’s a dream of epic proportions.”

She shrugs. “Maybe, but there’s so much we don’t know. What if her absence is only normal? What if every so many centuries she plunges into the Tide of Embers Sea to a secret world and reigns over a whole other realm?”

“Amazing theory. Have you shared it with Embernia’s scholars?”

“Maybe I will.” She stomps into the lift that has arrived.

I shuffle inside, regretting my words. “I’m sorry, Phoebe. It was a bad joke. It’s nice that you have an interest in the Goddess.” The lift clanks and starts descending. “It’s dreamers who come up with things like this lift, not people like me.”

She examines me sidelong, likely trying to evaluate my sincerity.

“One day, in this generation or another, it’ll be someone like you who’ll find her.”

She smiles, blushing a little. I mock-punch her shoulder, and we laugh, the tension seeping away.

Talking excitedly about all the research material at the library, she takes me there. The place is, indeed, nice—a vast chamber that stretches into the darkness beyond the reach of my vision. Shelves, impossibly tall and laden with ancient tomes, line the walls. But it’s the light that captures my attention. Not the flickering glow of torches or the dim, smoky light of candles, but a clean, steady radiance emanating from glass orbs suspended from the ceiling. Electric lamps!

“Wow!” I say, staring at one of them.

“Right?” Phoebe says.

“Another dreamer invented those.”

I know about electric lamps and other such inventions that take advantage of a Bolt’s ability, but I’ve never seen any of them until now. Somewhere, there are Bolts supplying the power to keep them running. I’ve heard someone is trying to come up with a way to store their power, so it can be portable and used more widely. That will be something to behold. For now, electric lamps are only used where strictly necessary.

“They don’t want to risk any of these ancient tomes with fire,” Phoebe says, going to a cubby hole in the far wall and retrieving a pile of books. “You can take any of the empty cubbies.”

“I doubt I’ll need one.” Or anyone else other than Phoebe. There are a dozen of them, all empty. “I’ll review maneuvers, I guess. Know where I can find a copy of Arsenal.”

It’s what we call Advanced Combat Maneuvers: Mastering the Dragon’s Arsenal for short. I glance around. There isn’t a librarian in sight. It seems the place is self-serve. Phoebe points vaguely toward a nearby shelf, already seated, her nose buried in a tome nearly as large as her.

I quickly find what I’m looking for and, like a good pupil, study for the next hour.

When I’m done, I stretch and glance around. Phoebe stares off into space, her tome forgotten.

“Everything all right?” I ask.

She blinks, snapping out of her trance. “Fine. I was just thinking about my mother. She was so sad when I left.”

“Oh.” I think my father was only sad that I didn’t leave sooner.

“I’m an only child, and we’ve always been close. I think she dreamed I would one day marry and give her grandchildren, but I never wanted that.”

I lean forward, crossing my arms over the table. “Why not?”

“Is that a serious question? Can you imagine embroidering your life away?”

We both laugh.

Then she adds, “I think soaring through the clouds is slightly better.”

We’re still laughing when we leave the library.

Back in my room, I strip off my leathers and deposit them in the maintenance shaft I found by my wardrobe. The leathers have my name on them and will be returned to me once they’re clean. I hear them slide down, down, down, and vaguely wonder where they end up. The thought doesn’t last, however, because the excitement still coursing through my veins burns out as soon as I remember what Zephyros said about visiting my father. The day has been so busy that I nearly forgot—not to mention he soothed my worries, which helped me focus on training. I release my hair from its tight knot, marveling. It’s a damn thing being bonded.

Reaching for a robe, I reach for Zephyros’s mind and find it without effort.

—Will you tell me now? How am I going to get out of Sky’s Edge to visit my father?

I put on a robe and head for the hot spring.

—You need to take a quick shower and dinner, then go to bed.

—Who are you? High Prime Stormsong?

—If you wish to have strength left for tomorrow’s training, you will follow my advice.

I sigh, turn, and head toward the showers instead.

—Why are you being so secretive? I ask.

—You already have enough to worry about, little one. Let me worry about this.

The same soothing brush from this morning runs over my mind, and suddenly, I don’t care that I don’t know how I’m supposed to get out of here to visit my father. Zephyros will tell me in time. He knows what he’s doing. He’s an ancient, wise creature.

I come to a sudden stop, blinking.

—Wait! You put that thought in my mind, I protest.

—I am ancient and wise. Do you doubt it?

—You’re full of yourself is what you are.

I sense a chuckle from him. It feels strange, disused, as if he hasn’t created such a sound in a long time, just the reason I don’t point it out. The sadness I’ve glimpsed in him seems too grand to give room to mirth, so I’m glad to see that it hasn’t robbed him of the capacity altogether.

In the shower, I sit under the stream of hot water for several minutes before I start scrubbing. My muscles relax, welcoming the building heat. I’m the only one there. The others likely chose the hot spring. They’ll probably think I’m afraid of Silas and I decided to stay away.

—Let them think what they will, Zephyros says. They will soon realize your might.

—You must mean your might.

—There is no difference. We are one and the same now. Besides, the bond is mutual.

The sincerity in his statement shocks me at first, until I recognize the truth of it. I felt it during our bonding, but the experience—no matter how grand—has dulled to fit my human senses and mind. I imagine it will take me a while to get used to who, to what , I have become.

—How old are you, Zephyros? I ask as I scrub my body with a soaped cloth. The records estimate your age at five thousand years. Is that right? While there, I performed a quick search at the library, and if what I discovered is correct, he’s one of the oldest dragons still alive. Some of the records on our dragons are extensive, listing battles, strengths, character, and every imaginable detail.

—It is not, he replies without elaborating further.

—Are you older than Fragor? The records indicated that Vaylen’s dragon is over five thousand years old.

—Do not mention that creature to me.

So the animosity I’d sensed between them is real. My curiosity spikes, but I’m afraid to press him for more details. Despite the idea that we’ve become one, we’re still separate entities with our pasts. He has been nicer to me, however, so I take the risk.

—Why do you hate him?

—For reasons I would rather forget, so do not ask me about him.

—All right, sorry. I return to the question about his age. Do you remember Heratrix? She was your mother, right? Is it true she was the most powerful and could wield all the elements?

I’m not as obsessed with Heratrix as Phoebe, but stories of our Goddess do interest me. I’ve read many accounts of her in our history books. There aren’t many since time and war have destroyed so much, including older libraries than the one found here. But if Zephyros was there, this is a unique opportunity to acquire first-hand knowledge about her—maybe even document it for the benefit of future generations. Perhaps other riders in the past have been able to talk to their dragons, and that’s the source of some of the anonymous accounts I’ve encountered.

—The past is in the past. Zephyros sounds aggravated at me.

—Well, I guess you’re not much for conversation.

—Not when the interlocutor decides on a line of annoying questions. Finish getting ready. I will come for you when it is time.

—I don’t think…

He’s gone, not listening to me anymore. How rude. If he can shut me out, that means I can do the same to him. I’ll have to figure out how.

When I finish showering, I head back to my room, change into my formal uniform (without the jacket) then head to the mess hall. An attendant brings out my meal even though I’m the only one there. At the Academy, there were set times for meals. If you weren’t there, you didn’t eat. Here, things are more flexible. I start to sit down, but Zephyros said to eat quickly, so I stuff my face with a few bites of roasted potatoes, then put the meat—a thinly sliced beef that melts in my mouth—between two pieces of bread and head back to my room.

I stroll down the long corridors, munching on my sandwich, lost in thought. When I walk near the hot springs, I hear voices and splashes. I’m tempted to go in, but if Zephyros is serious about a visit to my father, I should rest.

I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, stripped down to my undergarments. At first, I fear sleep will evade me, but the exhaustion from the grueling day overpowers my overactive thoughts, and I succumb, falling into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

* * *

—Wake up, little one.

It’s an effort to open my heavy eyelids.

—It is time to go.

At first, I’m confused, thinking the rumbling voice is in my dreams.

—You have to talk to your father, remember?

I sit up with a sudden jerk, eyes darting to the clock. It’s zero one hundred.

—Grab a pair of leathers and place them in your satchel, then put on a robe and head to the hot spring.

—What? Why?

—Do not waste time and do what I say.

—All right, all right, Lord Grumpy. I walk to my closet and retrieve a pair of leathers and my satchel, another standard issue item we can use when we are on leave.

—My name is Zephyros. Not Lord Grumpy. But if you prefer you can call me Your Excellency.

—Wait, was that a joke?

—Ha ha.

—Argh, you’re exhausting.

—Hide the satchel under the robe in case someone sees you.

—What about my boots? I ask.

—Put them on, but do not lace them.

—Quite the fashion statement. Riding boots and a robe.

I sling the satchel strap across my body, put the robe and boots on, and slowly open the door. I peek right and left and spot no one. The place appears deserted. I imagine every Skyrider is sleeping like the dead, and there’s no chance I’ll be discovered, but better safe than sorry. I walk silently and make it to the hot spring without incident.

Steam and the sounds of flowing water soothe my senses.

—Now what?

—Go to the upper level.

—That’s for the Primes. It’s what the brief I was given on the first day here said. I finally read it.

—And?

—All right, I mumble.

I climb up the semi-circular staircase that runs around the curved wall. Water from the upper pool cascades to the lower one, splashing gently and releasing steam into the air. The area is bigger than the bottom one, with more than enough room for six Primes.

—Um, so does the hot spring have magical teleportation powers or something? I ask. Do I chant to it? Dance around it shaking my bottom?

—You may do so if you wish, but when you are done, swim underwater toward the far end of the pool. There, you will find a tunnel, swim through it, and it will take you to a different pool on the outside. I will meet you there.

I take a moment to process the information, and inevitably, worry about my safety takes hold.

—How long is this… tunnel, Zephyros? I ask.

—Long.

—What kind of answer is that?

—If you must know with exactness, it is over two hundred yards long.

—In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a human, not a fish. I can’t hold my breath for that long.

—Trust me, little one. There is a way. Get in the water, and I will show you.

—Oh, this had better be good. I mumble, taking off the robe and hanging it from a hook along a row of other clean robes. I’m left in my undergarments and boots, the satchel slung across my chest. Dragon’s breath!

—Are you planning to blow my leathers and boots dry? I ask. Have you considered the possibility the suit might get ruined?

—Quit asking so many questions and trust .

—It’d be a lot easier to trust if you learned to communicate, I complain, taking a set of stairs that descend into the pool. Warm water climbs up my limbs with every step, its heavenly feel making my eyelids flutter.

I hold the satchel close to my chest, keeping it from touching the water. The air stirs around me, then gathers close to my body, I feel it, gently circling me. Slowly, I lower myself into the water until I’m fully submerged. To my utter surprise, my face remains untouched by water and so does the satchel. Zephyros has created a bubble around me, providing me with air to breathe and keep my clothes dry.

—Wyrm’s rot! This is amazing! I say.

—Thank you.

I try to remember if I’ve ever read about my wind elemental power being used in this way, but I can’t. I’ve mostly focused on learning about the skills that can be used during aerial battle, but I think that was a big mistake. Why did no one ever mention this?

—Now swim, Rhealyn, Zephyros says.

All doubts gone, excitement fills me. I dive, kicking off the bottom, amazed by how clearly I can see. The light starts to dim as I approach the back of the pool. That stirs my doubts again, but I tamp them down.

Trust , Zephyros said. Searching within me, I find that I can do that. I’m part of him. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. My logical mind reminds me of what happened to Merrill Pyrewing, but the thought causes absolutely no disquiet of any kind. Merrill wasn’t bonded to Zephyros. I am. Besides, I don’t know exactly what happened.

I see a section that appears darker than the rest of the wall, the tunnel. It’s large enough for two people to swim shoulder to shoulder. Heart beating at a quick pace, I enter the tight space. My legs kick, propelling me forward. When I’m left in utter darkness, I stave off panic by brushing my hand along the wall.

—It’s been two hundred yards, right? I ask after a few minutes.

—I do not know. I was not counting.

—Listen, you… I trail off when I perceive a dim light ahead. After a few more leg strokes, I’m out of the tunnel. I swim toward the light. It grows brighter, but the water that covers me seems to go on forever. At last, I break the surface. I’m gasping for no reason. I had enough air all along. Moving in a circle, I inspect my surroundings. I’m in the middle of what appears to be a small lagoon. Zephyros sits at the edge, his neck elongated as he gazes at the full moon above.

I start in his direction with long strokes. When I reach the shore and step out, only my arms and legs are wet.

“That was amazing,” I say.

He grumbles deep in his chest, continuing to gaze at the firmament.

I follow his gaze. The moon is as silver as Zephyros, its light reflecting off him and giving his scales a magical bluish hue that shimmers like jewels. He looks magnificent, the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.

—Are you done gawking? he asks.

—You’re insufferable!

I glance all around and ask out loud, “Where are we?”

—This is our watering hole. The water is a bit too warm for my taste, but it is what we have.

Steam hovers over the surface of the small lagoon. The wind blowing across the plateau cools the water considerably, but it certainly isn’t as cold as it should be given its location. A gust of chilled wind accompanies the thought. Shivering, I remove my leathers from the satchel. They’re entirely dry, not even a hint of dampness in them. My boots are a different story. I loosen the laces and step out of them, making a face.

—May I? Zephyros asks, lowering his head toward the boots.

I frown, but step aside. He opens his mouth, and for an instant, I have the wild idea he’s going to eat my boots, but he blows on them instead. Even from a distance, I feel his breath’s warmth and…

—Ugh! About that breath mint.

—Too bad your feet cannot eat one too , he huffs.

—Hey, my feet don’t stink.

—To your pathetic human nose, perhaps.

—If they didn’t stink before, they’ll surely stink now that you blew on my boots, I mutter, turning away from him and wiggling into my leathers. My feet are embraced by warm leather when I stuff them into the boots. They feel a little tighter but should stretch back out with use.

—I’m ready , I say

He bends his knee, and I climb. Sky’s Edge stretches around us, bathed in moonlight.

—It’s beautiful , I marvel, a strange sense of peace washing over me. It feels foreign or perhaps forgotten. Maybe I felt this way once when my mother was alive.

Zephyros walks toward the edge. A thought occurs to me.

—My eyeballs are going to fall off without goggles , I say.

—No need for them.

I open my mouth to ask why not, then shut it back.

Trust.

When we reach the edge of the plateau, Zephyros leaps into the air. That feeling that’s becoming wonderfully familiar hits my stomach. A lift, then a drop. Wind blows my free hair back, whipping it behind me, but I don’t feel its sting on my face or eyes. Zephyros has formed that protective bubble again. I can see all the way to the faraway horizon without any difficulty.

—This is why Vaylen needs no goggles , I say.

—No. He uses Wind Wall to block the wind.

Wind Wall is a defensive maneuver, one I will soon learn.

—I thought Wind Wall could only be used at a bigger scale , I say.

—He has enough subtlety for that much , he says with contempt —I am surprised he is allowed to use it, given the Sky Order’s preference for… standards.

The way he says it makes it sound like a dirty word, like he disapproves. He isn’t wrong. Standardization is touted as an effective means to expedite training and keep costs down. I always thought of it as a good thing, but maybe there are disadvantages.

—Once, things were different , he goes on . Not so many rules, and so much power. We could sometimes wield more than one element and pass knowledge from generation to generation through Weavers, such as this bubble. Now, so much is lost.

My mind reels. I never knew Weavers did that. There can only be one explanation: after the Dual Blight, they must have stricken all knowledge about what Weavers could do from the books, then time took care of the rest. Wyrm’s rot!

—You should not waste your Weaver powers. You should take advantage of them, listen to learn and grow wise.

—Listening to people’s thoughts is wrong.

—Is it?

—Yes, I firmly believe that. Please don’t ask me to do that.

I sense something like a tired sigh from him.

—So much waste , he says. So much misinformation. You would not think that way if you had been born before the so-called Dual Blight.

By the four winds! What is he saying? Would I have embraced my Weaver gift before the decree that marked us a blight? I want to know everything, but where to begin? I think about it as we ride in silence, quickly eating the distance between Sky’s Edge and Emberton. The sights distract me. I can’t believe I’m doing this. If anyone finds out, I’ll surely learn how the Sky Order punishes disobedience. But that’s a topic I’m not ready for, though there’s something else that has been on my mind for some time. I begin, planning each word carefully.

—Um, I’m afraid Silas will remain a thorn in my side from now on.

Zephyros’s only response is a rumble in his chest that I feel in the soles of my boots. The sense I get from him feels like a closed door. He knows where my comment is leading, and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Well, no point dancing around the subject then.

—What happened to Merrill Pyrewing? I ask.

No response.

—Silas thinks you should be put down because his brother is in a wheelchair. Completely ridiculous, of course!

Nothing.

—I think since you’re my dragon now, he feels the same way about me. I’m afraid one day he’s going to jump out of a dark corridor and stab me in the back. Maybe that gives me a right to know what happened. Maybe once I do, I can talk to him, and he’ll ? —

—There is no reasoning with a Pyrewing. Do not waste your breath.

—You seem to have a lot of experience with them, I say, attempting to go about the conversation in a circumspect manner.

—Rather enough. Merrill was the fifth Pyrewing to serve as my rider.

—Fifth! Wow, that’s a lot.

—Not really. The Pyrewings are mostly a family of Skyblazes. Thank the stars. But they occasionally produce a Skysinger, and I occasionally get stuck with one of them.

This is good. He’s talking. I think of what to say next, but he preempts me.

—Wyndward? he says my last name in the form of a question. I remember a rider by that last name a long time ago.

—What? Really? When? I’ve always wondered if any of my ancestors were ever riders. My father hated when I asked him about our last name’s origin, and he always replied with a curt I don’t know, normally adding a leave me alone afterward.

—It was around the time that Heratrix left us, he replies.

Through our bond, I feel his sadness, an emotion so momentous the weight of it leaves me breathless. I bend over, a hand to my breastbone. As quickly as the sensation begins, it stops, and I can breathe again.

—I am sorry, little one. It has been some time since I was last bonded, and I forget how easily my emotions can overwhelm a human.

Clearing my throat, I straighten and take several deep breaths. I thought I understood what it meant to have lost our Goddess, but I had no idea. Zephyros—even now, all these centuries later—is devastated. He still mourns her as if it were yesterday that she disappeared from Embernia, leaving us to fend for ourselves as our beloved dragons face extinction, their numbers dwindling without hope of replacement.

I try to regain my train of thought and realize he has distracted me from my initial topic of interest: Merrill. Did he do that on purpose? I retake the banner.

—So… is Merrill similar to Silas? I ask.

He banks left, providing no answer.

—At the Academy, I go on, I thought Silas was different. I thought he was my friend, but I realize now I was mistaken. He didn’t see me as a friend. He saw me as one of his sycophants. He thought that when he said jump , I should jump. When I didn’t… well, he showed his true colors.

Zephyros hums again.

—You were lucky to learn this now , he says. Many do not realize the truth until the knife is in their backs.

I want him to say more, but he goes silent again. I feel a certain sense of exhaustion from him, as if it’s not in his nature to talk, and he’s already tired of conversation. I decide to wait to ask him more. It would be foolish of me to ignore the cues our bond provides for me. And oddly enough, annoying him feels like annoying myself.

In the distance, I see lights. Is that Emberton already? It has been no more than twenty minutes since we left Sky’s Edge. When I flew on Fragor’s back, it took longer than that to make the trip. Could be because of all the time Vaylen spent trying to kill me.

—Or because his dragon is no match for my speed , Zephyros pipes in.

It seems any mention of Fragor will get Zephyros talking. Interesting. Maybe I need to?—

—Maybe you need to focus on the task at hand. How do I get to your house?

Damn . I take a deep breath and focus on hiding my thoughts from Zephyros, imagining a barbed barrier with a big Keep Out sign.

My house is east of the Brightscale District.

I wait. Zephyros keeps the same course. No attempt to go east. Did it work? I remove the barrier.

—My house is east of the Brightscale District , I repeat.

He makes the necessary adjustments. I erect the barrier again.

Fragor’s curled horns are so beautiful.

No reaction from Zephyros. I remove the barrier once more.

—Fragor’s curled horns are so beautiful.

—Pshaw, his head looks like a gnarled tree.

I snicker, then notice the dilapidated fountain that sits in the middle of my neighborhood.

—We’re here. My house is in the next block, but how am I going to get down there? I haven’t learned how to descend on my own.

Zephyros would flatten all the houses if we landed.

—Trust.