Raff’s head drooped onto my shoulder once again. I decided to let him stay. At least his steady breathing warmed that one small portion of my neck while the rest of me trembled at the cold breeze the dragon’s wings created. An ugly black scab had formed over the bite wound in her neck.
Suddenly, she turned her head, fixing one yellow on my face. Her pupil was much wider and more circular than it had been when the sun was out.
“Hold on tight.”
I gripped the straps and rolled my shoulder under Raff’s face. He startled up, looking around with bleary eyes. “Are we there yet?”
“I think so. She says to hold on tight.”
Raff wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed his legs against mine. The dragon dipped into the fog, and the moisture stung my frost burned face. Moments later, we emerged over a rolling field dotted with some type of livestock, and I realized two things. First, what I’d assumed was fog had actually been clouds because the air down here was crystal clear, and second, we were nowhere near Pithe.
“Um… dragon?” I realized I had no idea if she had a name.
The dragon huffed, emitting a few tiny sparks from her mouth. “Yes?”
“This doesn’t look like Pithe.”
A long pause, and then, “Why would it look like Pithe?”
Fear tickled my stomach. “That’s where we’re going. To take Raff home.”
The dragon turned her head to look at me once more, and even though her reptilian eye was mostly unreadable in terms of emotion—I could have sworn she secretly thought she’d chosen someone very stupid.
“I told you that would be impossible.”
“What?” I yelped. “No. You agreed!”
“To give him a ride.”
“Exactly!”
“I never said to where.”
“What’s going on?” Raff asked sleepily.
“She’s not taking us home,” I said through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to dig my heels into the dragon’s un-scaled skin beneath us.
Raff sat up straighter. “Where is she taking us?”
The dragon banked sharply to the right until we were flying sideways through a dizzying curve. Raff’s body clung to mine, and I gripped the dragon’s back as tight as my aching thighs would allow. Directly below us, a castle rose up out of the valley, shining white as bone against the dark surrounding forest. The dragon leveled out again, and the castle disappeared from my line of vision. But now that I knew it was there, my heart pounded all the way up inside my skull.
What business did we have at a castle? Had it all been some kind of cruel trick? Were we going to be arrested for impersonating Nobles or something like that?
“Who the hell are you?” a man’s voice cut through the night.
I whipped my head to the left and nearly startled right off my dragon’s back. A second dragon had arrived on eerily silent wings, gliding right alongside us. It was only a little longer than mine but much stockier with a short heavy neck holding up a blocky head and thick, powerful legs curled up against its belly as it flew. A frill of horns jutted from its brow, protecting the rest of its skull, and its strong jaw sported an impressive array of chin whiskers. Pearly white scales covered its body, but its wings were a dark blue that made them nearly invisible in the night.
“Well?” the armored rider demanded from his perch on a bronze-plated saddle behind the dragon’s thorny shoulder blades. He held the dragon’s two reins loosely in one hand like this was all very casual, but the short sword strapped to his thigh sent an altogether different message.
My tongue felt thick in my mouth. I tried to send the dragon a mental message to fly away. Surely, my sleek girl could outrun that clunky thing if it came to a race. But either she couldn’t hear me if I didn’t speak aloud, or she wasn’t listening.
“Answer him,” Raff whispered. “You belong here.”
Belong where?
“Yes, answer me,” the rider said, resting his free hand on the hilt of his sword. “Who are you?”
“I’m Dima.” I swallowed the trembling lump in my throat. “Dima of the House of Marren.” Something told me to give my mother’s maiden house, instead of my so-called traitor father’s.
“Marren. Never heard of it,” the rider scoffed, and I could feel the dark eyes behind his helmet taking in out rough attire. “And the child?”
“Hey!” Raff protested, but I jammed my elbow into his ribs.
“This is my brother.”
The rider stared at us, and I knew he was taking in the difference in our skin tones.
“Our mother is from Outer Lanthe, our father was from Desaret.” I snapped. “If you must know.”
Perhaps this lie would take care of two problems—convincing the Nobles of this castle that Raff was the brother of a dragon’s chosen rider, and hiding the fact that my real father refused to serve in Lord Lanthe’s army.
“Interesting. And how is that you and your brother have come to be riding this badly injured dragon, Dima of the House of Marren?”
The rider’s voiced dripped with condescension, and in the absence of a sweet tuberine to throw at his haughty head, I told him the truth instead.
“This dragon called me.”
“Liar!” the other rider snarled, drawing his sword. He pulled the reins across his dragon’s neck, veering it into us so he could point his weapon at my face.
My dragon screeched and dipped out of his range, but he followed, making it impossible for her to flap her left wing. She tilted to the right and into a sharp vertical drop, the ground rushing up toward us at an alarming speed.
At the last moment, she flattened out, raking all four feet along the ground until she’s lost enough to speed to safely land without throwing us over her head. We bumped to a reasonably gentle stop—within the castle’s courtyard walls.
The white dragon landed in front of us, spreading its massive blue wings and puffing out it scales. A blue diamond-shaped gem sparkled between its yellow eyes. My dragon immediately lowered her, resting her injured neck on the cobblestone pavement. She emitted a sound I hadn’t heard before, something like a soft rumble from deep within her throat. The white dragon relaxed its scales and stepped forward, sniffing the empty crater in her forehead.
It reared its head back and blew sparks into the air. The rider leaped from his saddle without even asking the beast to kneel. He landed lightly on his feet, sword drawn and ready.
“Dismount the dragon!” he ordered.
“I don’t think I will,” I shot back. “Not until you put away that dagger.”
“Dima, don’t,” Raff whimpered.
“Listen to your little brother,” the rider drawled. “You don’t know who you disobey.”
My father’s face flashed in my mind, his mouth set in a determined line, even after his body tumbled backward with Lord Lanthe’s sword stuck in his ribs.
“This dragon called me,” I said, making my voice as regally imposing as I could. “I will not be ordered off of her by some… some toy soldier in a tin suit.”
“Dima!” Raff wailed into my hair. “What are you doing?”
The rider reached up and flung off his helmet, revealing a boy barely older than myself. He had thick black hair that fell to his shoulders, and his handsome face was all sharp angles—not from lack of proper nutrition like mine or Raff’s, but from refined breeding.
“I am Arlen of the House of Centrival, future ruler of the Drakken Empire,” the rider sputtered, flipping his hair out of his eyes. “And you will dismount this dragon immediately, peasant!”
Raff moaned and let go of my waist, shifting as though to slide off the dragon. I clamped my hand down on his thigh. “We will come peacefully when you lay down your sword.”
Arlen Centrival’s lips puckered with rage, and his thick eyebrows formed two ridges as hard as any dragon’s skull ornamentation. He marched forward, pointing his sword right at me. “You are in no position to give orders!”
My dragon li
fted her head and hissed, stopping the Noble boy in his tracks. Her spiked tail scratched against the cobblestone.
“Elanich,” the boy snapped over his shoulder, but the white dragon made no move against mine. “Elanich!”
“Arlen!” a new voice rumbled. “What is the meaning of all this?”
Raff and I both turned toward this newcomer, a short, squat rock of a man with hair cropped close to his square head. He wore no armor or other symbols of power—in fact, if I had to guess, I would say he was wearing his one-piece pajamas. He lumbered toward us with a distinct hitch in his gait.
“Hector, sir,” the rider ducked his head. “I apprehended this pair flying over the Academy.”
The Academy?!
The man called Hector shambled closer, peering up at Raff and me with eyes that started small and mean, but then flew open wide with surprise.
“These are peasants!” He pointed a meaty finger at us. “Come down from there this instant. How did you steal this dragon?” His eyes fell on the scab on my dragon’s neck and then traveled to the empty space on her forehead. He let out a sharp cry. “What have you done to her?”
“Nothing!” I huffed. “She was attacked by another dragon.”
Hector gaped at me. “And it knocked out her gem?”
I hesitated. I didn’t know if the gem had been there before the fight began or not. She could have lost it ages ago.
Lifting my chin, I answered as honestly as I could, “I could not say, sir. The gem may have already been gone before that. I didn’t see her face until after.”
Hector’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure you didn’t steal it? Perhaps this dragon has flown here in search of help, and you are trying to bluff?”
The dragon’s head came up, and she flared her scales at Hector, driving him several steps back. Hector’s jaw shifted side to side as he stared at the dragon’s empty forehead.
“Or perhaps not,” I said, mimicking Arlen’s haughty tone.
I straightened my spine and turned my head slowly, taking in the castle courtyard. Great white stone walls surrounded us on three sides, with the castle itself making up the fourth edge. A massive iron gate was embedded in the back wall, large enough for a dragon the size of Huskell to walk through, although why it would need to when it could just fly over the wall, I didn’t know. Two lookout towers flanked the corners on either side of the gate.
Long balconies lined the three upper floors of the castle, each one guarded by thick iron bars—viewing platforms, I surmised. The roof was a confusing jumble of square and circular towers and decorative spires bearing what appeared to be the flags of the twelve territories—which were just the family crests of the Noble Houses that controlled each one.
“So this is the famous Legion Academy?” I asked, trying to sound a little bored, even though my heart was bouncing off the walls of my chest.
“Don’t get used to it,” Hector growled. “You won't’ be staying long.”
The dragon snapped her teeth, and Hector jumped back, stumbling into Arlen’s side.
“Since when are you afraid of dragons, Hector?” the younger man sneered, brushing off his armor as though Hector had sullied it.
“You can’t trust them without their gems,” Hector muttered, low enough that I could tell he hadn’t meant for me to hear. “They can be…unpredictable.”
“Clearly,” Arlen scoffed, shooting me a glare. “If this one has chosen a pair of peasants.”
“Not that unpredictable.” Hector shook his head. “There can only be one rider.”
“And yet…” Arlen pointed his sword at Raff. “I’ll ask you one more time, Dima of the House of Marren. Dismount this dragon now.”
Hector grimaced and pushed Arlen’s sword down. “You may be a Centrival, but you’re still my student. I give the orders around here. Stand down, boy.”
Arlen scowled, but obeyed the older man, sliding his short sword back into its scabbard.
Hector looked at us and pointed at the ground. “Come down here now.”
“You must,” the dragon said weakly.
“Very well,” I called down to Hector. “My brother and I will dismount, but I expect to be treated with the same respect you’d give any dragon’s chosen rider.”
Arlen chuckled darkly, and Hector shot him a warning glare. The would-be ruler turned away from us, raking his armor-gloved hand over his flowing locks. The glove shuddered and then jerked—he’d tangled his own hair in the finger joints. Raff choked back a laugh.
Hector pressed his hand over his heart. “I swear to treat you with all the respect you deserve.”
“Do you trust him?” Raff whispered.
“Of course not,” I muttered. “He’s a noble. But the dragons says we have to listen.”
The dragon sank to her knees and tilted her body to the left so we could more easily dismount. After an embarrassing moment where we were tangled together in the strap of my father’s satchel, Raff and I half-slid, half-jumped off the dragon’s back.
Hector loomed over us. He and Arlen were both much taller from this angle. “Now, there is a simple test to determine whether or not this dragon has called you.” His eyes raked over my filthy, slightly burnt, male clothing. “Of all people.”
“Thula,” the dragon said suddenly.
My heart sank. She had realized her mistake—she had meant to call someone named Thula—and now Raff and I would be punished as thieves and grifters.
Hector paced in front of us, hands behind his back. Arlen peeked over his shoulder, a hint of curiosity sparkling in his dark eyes. Hector stopped and made a sweeping gesture toward the dragon.
“What is her name?” he asked.
“Her… her name?” I stuttered.
Hector grinned. “You know it, of course. If you’ve truly bonded.”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was all sand. “Of course. Her name… well, it’s…” I racked my brain for an excellent dragon name. Raff and I had always called our favorite cindragon Sparky, but that… did not seem right.
The dragon heaved a sigh. “THULA.”
“Oh!” I said out loud, eyebrows lifting in shock at my own stupidity. Of course. “Thula! Her name is Thula.”
Hector’s jaw dropped. A quivery wheeze blew from his lips like someone had punched him in his ample gut—he was apparently no longer beholden to the rigorous training regime that Academy was said to have.
Arlen whirled around, his armor clanking. “That can’t be it.”
Hector turned his head toward the younger man and nodded. “That is the name recorded in the Academy Scrolls.”
Arlen’s whole face curled up in a sneer. “Impossible! This peasant being here is against all the rules!”
Hector studied my face with something that might have been cautious… respect?
He shook his head at Arlen. “There’s no official rule against this. Whoever the dragons call, we train.”
Chapter Eight
Hope exploded in my heart, like fire out of a dragon’s mouth. They’re letting me in!
Arlen flung out his arms. “There doesn’t need to be an official rule because it’s impossible! It’s always been impossible!”
“Hmm,” was all Hector said to that. He marched over to me, looking me up and down the way the gamblers had, assessing my possibilities. He frowned. “You’re late. Training began three weeks ago. Why didn’t you come sooner?”
Honesty once again seemed the best policy. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look the man square in the eyes. “Because I didn’t believe the visions were possible.”
“You see!” Arlen shouted. “Even she knows this is absurd.”
Hector held up a silencing hand. Arlen sighed and stalked away.
“You’re going to have a hell of a time catching up now,” Hector grunted. “And these Noble brats…” the man lowered his voice. “He’s not even the worst of them. They’ll want you dead.”
Ice dripped through my veins, colder than anything I�
�d faced on Drakken Peak. The sword. My father. The blood.
I set my jaw. “I figured as much.”
Hector cut his eyes at my dragon—at Thula. “As Chief Legionnaire of the Academy, I am sworn to train all those that the dragons call, so that they may, in turn, pledge their lives in service to the Legion Army. There is no point in continuing this conversation if you are unable or unwilling to fulfill that duty.”
Lord Lanthe’s cruel face swam in my vision. The sword. My father. The blood. How could I betray him by joining the Army that he died to refuse?
“Dima.”
Silky soft scales pressed against my hand. I looked down to find Thula’s delicate nose hovering near my waist. Her big yellow eyes blinked at me. My fingers stroked between her nostrils, and she closed her eyes halfway.
“Trust…” Her words were cut off by a painful cough that sent sparks flickering onto the cobblestones.
There had to be some reason this magnificent creature had chosen a nobody like me from a nowhere like Pithe. I couldn’t wrap my mind around any reasonable explanation, but she’s gotten me this far.
I met Hector’s searching gaze and gave a curt nod. “I am able and willing, sir.”
A rough smile twitched his grizzled cheek, but it vanished as his eyes turned on Raff, who cowered slightly behind me. “As for you…”
“This is my brother,” I said, flinging my arm in front of me. “I want him sent home to our family in Outer Lanthe. He should never have been here.”
“No, he should not.” Hector scowled at Thula. “And this dragon should have known better.”
Thula flared her scales and clacked her teeth.
“Unpredictable indeed,” Hector murmured. He shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s no sending a peasant home from the Legion Academy.”
“What?” Raff yelped. I knew he was thinking of Pali. So was I.
“He’s already seen more than any peasant should.” Hector gestured at the courtyard.
It was empty of anything but the three of us and the two dragons—Arlen’s had sat on its haunches and begun grooming between its white scales with his long, forked tongue.
Dragon Games Page 6
