Did all of the homes have these rooms beneath the house?
I was stumbling around in the dark until she flipped a switch.
It was a small room—there was barely enough space for us to move around without bumping into each other. It was bereft of furniture, save for a small bookcase and a rickety chair. Betheka retrieved a small orange book from this bookcase, and started flipping through the pages.
The pages of the book were tattered from use, but a sentence and a picture were clear.
The Great Shadowtail
Also known as the ‘prophet’, this breed of dragon is known for its ability to predict natural disasters.
The dragon depicted did look like a full-grown version of Ignimitra. It had four talons on each foot, which delighted me. Ignimitra had four too, and all the other dragons I had seen so far only had three.
“She’s a Great Shadowtail?” I asked in disbelief. “Is that even a Pyralian dragon?”
Betheka shook her head. “No, it isn’t.”
The brief moment of understanding I had was lost. What was her egg doing in the Forbidden Ruins if she wasn’t a Pyralian dragon?
“Is this all there is about her?”
Betheka looked at me with a sad expression. I already knew the answer to all those questions. After decades, this was all she had.
“Thanks for your—” I was interrupted by something falling from the book I had been holding.
I bent down to pick it up. It was a picture.
“Was this your husband?” I asked cheekily.
It was the portrait of a young man in a Dragon Guard uniform. It was black like the Headmasters, but with more gold piping. He held a matching blue and gold helmet in his hands. He had dark skin, and thick dark brown hair styled in dreadlocks. Piercing caerulean eyes seemed to pull me into the picture. He was smiling, and something about it made my stomach lurch.
It was when I spied the blue wool bracelet on his wrist that my stomach fell and my eyes began to burn.
“Dad.”
WITH SWIMMING VISION, I saw Betheka’s look of alarm. Her eyebrows furrowed, as I struggled to make sense of what was happening.
I was sure that this was a picture of my father—my memories of him had grown dull over the past seven years—but the wool bracelet jogged my memory. My father had always worn that bracelet. It was a few days before he died, as we sat under the shade of a mango tree catching our breath after a heated football match, when he told me why he did. The bracelet had been made from the wool of my very first blanket, and he kept it as a reminder of me.
Now, as I held his picture with trembling fingers, it was a reminder of everything that I had lost.
“Branton was your father?” She spoke, but it sounded like we were both underwater. The only thing I could hear clearly was the hot sound of my breath.
I nodded weakly, walking over to sit in the chair.
She kept whirling in the tiny space. I couldn’t take my eyes away from my father—it felt like a long-awaited reunion. I didn’t know what to say, only felt the weight of a sadness that I had been running from the moment I became aware of it. A sadness that sapped my strength and replaced my blood with lead. A sadness that seeped the air out of my lungs and put acid in my tears. A sadness that I didn’t want to bear.
“What are you doing with this?” My voice was hoarse.
“Oh child,” Betheka walked over, grasping my face in her shriveling hands.
We shared a moment of silence, and it was then I realized that she was teary eyed too.
“This is the first time I’ve seen him in seven years,” I confessed.
She pulled me into a hug, wrapping me in her frail arms. She smelled of suede, vanilla and peace. It calmed me enough to stop sniveling.
“He gave me that picture one day when he came to visit, a few months before he passed. He had just been promoted.” She smiled. “We became fast friends after he brought Jairyn to me. Your father had a way of connecting people. It was beautiful.”
Her words warmed my cold insides. I couldn’t remember much of my father’s personality, only how he made me feel. And that made me agree with her. He always made me feel warm, happy, loved and protected. I had forgotten what that felt like.
“He was an honorable soldier, too. He and Jairyn were a model partnership in the Guard,” she ran a hand along my temple. “We lost him too soon. He was on the verge of becoming headmaster, of changing how things happened on this mountain.”
With the back of my hand, I wiped the remaining tears from my eyes.
Every inch of my face hurt from crying, hot and stiff from releasing emotions I had tried so hard to keep bottled up. Betheka used the sleeve of her robe to finish drying my face.
“Now, his legacy lives on in you and Ignimitra,” she touched the center of my chest gently. “You can continue what he started.”
I quirked an eyebrow, a question on the tip of my tongue.
She gave me a tight-lipped smile, patting my head. I was eager to discover what else she knew about my father. What stories could she tell me about him? What work had he been doing?
“Can I come back?”
“You are always welcome here, my grand-daughter,” She gave me a short hug. “Now let’s go back up before that one causes a riot.”
When we were walking through the hallway, she held my hand.
“I’m not asking you to tell me where you found Ignimitra,” her voice was merely a whisper. “At least, not until you’re ready to. But, tell me. Do you feel that she is special too? In your heart?”
Her probing coal eyes made me feel like my skin was transparent.
“Yes...” I said slowly. “Yes, I know she is.”
“Then treat her that way. More than her physical wound, you will need to heal her heart,” her voice was urgent. “You must’ve lost much when your father died. Ignimitra is your kin now.”
“Kin?”
The old woman trilled softly.
“You don’t know what happens when a dragon bonds with a tamer, do you?”
I shook my head, feeling dumb.
She took my hand, turning it over to reveal my dragon mark.
“Dragons are far more sensitive to intentions than us. They know what’s in our hearts. Ignimitra chose you because of what she saw. You must guard that fiercely. It’s the only way you’ll be able to graduate.”
Her words washed over me, bringing with it a spark of determination. I’d lost my father and mother, and Hakan was back in the village, but I had Ignimitra.
“I understand,” I said, nodding firmly. “I’ll take care of her, I promise.”
Betheka smiled, squeezing my hand.
She gave me a salve and sent us on our way.
The pain of remembering my father’s death was still raw, but I knew I couldn’t focus on it. Channeling those feelings into bonding with Ignimitra and my success at the Academy was much better. Maybe along the way, I could find out more about my father. Perhaps, even find out more about the Great Shadowtail breed.
Lunch and the rest of our classes passed in a blur. Dragon Care taught us the ins and outs of caring for a dragon, and Civics taught us the Dragon Guard core values of loyalty, bravery and honor. Each class felt a bit different, like a peek into the training that made my father who he was.
That night, before I showed Ignimitra to her cave—we went deep into the forest to practice flying. Betheka had lit a fire deep inside of me. I wasn’t just attending this school for myself. I was doing it for my father too. Ignimitra seemed to share my determination, for though she was hurt, she still pressed on. We would do this together.
We had to.
THAT NIGHT, SLEEP ELUDED me.
I hadn’t noticed how much I relied on Ignimitra’s presence until she wasn’t with me.
When the sun rose, I ran all the way to her cave. There, I found Ignimitra waking from her own slumber. At the sound of me, she perked up and scampered over.
I noticed two things about her:
she had experienced another growth spurt, and the limited movements because of her wound was gone. She knocked me over when she started licking my face.
“Somebody’s feeling better,” I said, earning an excited yip.
It looked like she didn’t even need that salve that I had brought with me.
My thoughts were confirmed when I moved to look at her wound. Well, where it should have been. The painful bruise had all but healed, leaving in its wake a few impacted scales that had begun to dry up, making way for new ones.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
Ignimitra screeched in delight, galloping ahead of me. Her wings were flapping lightly in the air.
“Race you to the mess hall!” I screamed, breaking into a sprint.
Ignimitra accepted my challenge heartily, jumping into the air with a crackle of her wings.
Since our practice last night, she had become a little more confident in her flying abilities. After explaining to her why she fell out of the sky, she improved. She flew low, hovering just barely off the ground. It was only a matter of time before high altitudes became easier.
Still, I had little time to admire her progress for her newfound confidence was giving me a run for my money.
IGNIMITRA MADE IT TO the mess hall first, striking a landing between Titan and Zelkor.
I was out of breath when I joined Solra and Irikai in the line.
“You look like hell,” He commented, reaching out to slap my back.
Solra leaned over to smooth out my hair, “Yeah, what gives?”
Breathing was hard. I doubled over so it was easier to catch my breath.
“I raced Ignimitra over here,” I said, panting. “I lost.”
The two laughed.
“It’s great that Ignimitra is feeling better,” Solra said when we were seated for breakfast.
“Dragons are hardy,” Irikai took a bite out of his bread.
I shrugged, focusing on my own plate.
The run over here had cleared my thoughts, or at least given me the clarity I needed to dissect a nagging feeling I had.
“Did we see a library on our tour?” I asked Irikai.
He paused for a moment, pensive.
“No,” Solra shook her head. “I would’ve remembered that.”
“Jules didn’t show it to us,” he spoke up. “But there was one in the Administrative District. Across from the Orientation Station.”
Solra pinned him with a skeptical look.
“How are you sure?”
“The shape of it,” he pointed his fork at her. “Libraries need lots of air and ventilation. There’s no reason for a building to have that many windows unless the person that lives there is an exhibitionist.”
Solra’s face grew pink, and I couldn’t stifle my laugh.
“Good eye, thanks.”
“Why?” It was his turn to look at me skeptically.
Did I want them to know my real motivation?
“I want to do some research. See if I can figure out how to help Ignimitra fly better.”
“Jules said that we’re not allowed up there without a note,” Solra commented.
“I’ll figure something out,” I said, my mind settling on Betheka. “I’m sure of it.”
After breakfast, we fed our dragons and took off for our first class of the day.
OUR CLASS THAT MORNING was held in the clearing closest to the Assembly Hall. Our instructor was already there when we arrived.
He was tall and caramel-skinned, with fiery red hair and an unsightly scar that stretched the length of his face. His uniform was similar to the one Jules had worn the day she showed us around. I could make out the outline of his muscles, even through the thick, scoffed leather.
There was no dragon with him, only a large wooden box.
“Cadets!” His voice had a quality like the commanders. It straightened your spine and made you want to stand at attention, which we did. “Now that you’ve all decided to show up,” His beady eyes settled on us. I looked away quickly. “Two rules. Never be late. Never be a wimp. Break one or both, and you and your dragon will be off this mountain quicker than you can apologize.”
“Yes sir!” The words fell out of us in unison.
“I am Sergeant Sadon, and I will be teaching you the art of the sword,” He walked over to the large box. “Get off your asses and make a line in front of me.”
Solra sprinted away from us to join the line. I hung back with Irikai, toward the end of the slow-moving queue. He was handing each of us something from the box.
Sergeant Sadon picked up the sword by the blade, handing it to me. I took it, earning a nod from him. I was making room for the person behind me when his voice stopped me.
“That blade,” for the first time, his voice didn’t feel like an assault on my eardrums.
I traced his line of sight to my thigh.
“A gift,” I said with a slight smile.
He didn’t say anything further, only gazed at it more intensely, before turning to Irikai who was awaiting his sword. I stroked the hilt of the blade strapped to my thigh as I walked back.
The sword was only a few inches longer than my blade, but it was broader. Both edges glistened menacingly, meeting in a sharp point. I’d seen my fair share of weapons to know that this one was impressively made—forged from a single sheet of metal, with thick red-dyed leather wrapped around the handle for comfort. A single jewel glistened at the base of the sword; one I’d never seen before.
An inkling of excitement colored my blood. A sword-fighting class seemed like something that I would excel at.
Ignimitra didn’t seem to share my fascination with the sword, she seemed to be actively avoiding it. Sergeant Sadon commanded our attention before I could ask her what was wrong.
“That is your cadet sword,” he stood with his arms behind his back. “For the next two years, this sword will become an extension of your body. It will be the only thing standing between you and certain death.” The finality of his words gripped my heart. “With it, you must protect your own life and that of your dragon. Through it, you will exercise your right as a Dragon Guard soldier to destroy in the name of His Majesty, the Fire Drakken.” Sergeant Sadon’s voice reverberated in my skull. “In this class, showing up without your sword is the same as telling me that you are not interested. If you have to choose between your sword and your clothes, choose your sword. If you have to choose between food and your sword, choose your sword.”
Everyone fell silent.
All that could be heard were the faraway sounds of the flora and fauna, the wind whistling through the trees that surrounded us, and the waning sound of distant dragon calls.
“Do you understand me?!”
“Yes sir!” We shouted.
“Good,” He cracked a smile, but it was anything but friendly. He looked more like a wolf baring its teeth. “Your swords are specially made. Can anyone tell me what it is made of?”
If I had to guess, some kind of meteorite. It was surprisingly light and darker than most steel swords I had seen. Nobody raised their hand.
“Solra Rushing, tell me.” My breath caught in my throat.
Solra stood on shaky legs.
“Steel?” I had never seen her so unsure of herself.
“Wrong. Alyk Juste, tell me.”
A dark-skinned boy with green-tipped dreadlocks stood.
“Meteorite?”
“Wrong. Vulknor Archer, tell me.”
Vulknor stood, smirking.
“Lava.”
“Correct.”
A collective gasp echoed among us.
I looked down at my sword with a raised eyebrow. Lava? How was that possible? Cooled lava shouldn’t have been this malleable.
“Not just any lava,” Sergeant Sadon continued. “A special mixture of ore and lava gathered from the heart of Pyra Volcano.”
My eyes widened.
Pyra Volcano was a dormant volcano in the heart of the mainland. It was the ancient erupti
on of that volcano which created the archipelago we now called the Drakkendom of Pyralis. Our swords had the same composition as the land under our feet, the land we were being trained to protect. It was an embodiment of our heritage.
“There is something else that makes this sword special,” His voice cut through my thoughts. “It is poisonous to dragons.”
The sword fell from my hands.
I looked up at him, expecting to see the wisp of a smile. Nothing. Ignimitra’s eyes told me this was the reason for her trepidation. My heart thrummed an uneasy tune. Why did we need something like this?
“I can see the question on some of your puny faces,” he spat. “If you do not possess the means to slay a dragon, how can you protect your own from the attack of another?”
His words rang true.
I would never use this sword on Ignimitra. But if we were up against a stronger dragon, then it would be our only way out. I touched the scales on her neck; she tensed under my touch.
“It’s to protect us, not harm you.” I whispered to her, and she looked up at me, searching my eyes for something. “I would never use this on you.” She stilled.
“We will move into our first lesson,” He said. “I want you to fight each other.”
My uneasiness sharpened into fright.
SERGEANT SADON SENT us up in twos to spar against each other. His instructions had been ambiguous—it was a test to see how skilled we are with a sword, so he would know what we needed to work on first.
But so far, it didn’t seem as light-hearted as that. Twice, he had allowed the match to go on past what I thought was necessary. One cadet lost a lock of his hair, and another had been scratched under his eye.
This was a show for his own sadistic enjoyment.
My horror was palpable when he called the next matchup.
“Vulknor Archer against Kaos Kressin.”
Since Solra and I were the only two girls in our cohort, I half expected him to pair us together to keep things fair.
As I walked on to the battlefield, it dawned on me what a stupid thought that had been. Things were never fair in war. Both sides always sought to give themselves the advantage. So, I had to create my own.
Dragon Academy Page 8
