by Jada Fisher
If she ever went away at all. Had that really happened? It had to. It wasn’t the first time she’d had a vision of that ancient woman, and she wondered if it would be her last.
Frustration bubbled over in her and she let out a cry, all of the potential that she had felt building inside of her exploding outward.
Except that ended up being less of a metaphor than she thought, as light burst from her core, washing back out over the land it had swept up from. Wind kicked up, and debris flew everywhere, blinding even her. But when it all settled, there wasn’t a single enemy on the battlefield.
It seemed all of the armies were silent for several moments, staring in shock at what had happened. Eist sat atop Fior, worried about how they would react. Her worry, however, didn’t last too long because a mighty cheer rose up from the empty battlefield.
They had done it.
One battle was over and won.
Now it was time to win the war.
2
It’s Just the Beginning
Eist sat alone in her room, looking around at what should have been familiar surroundings, but they were anything but.
It had been over a month since she had been there, swept up in the battlefield and then losing Yacrist, and then back to the battlefield again.
After the successful defense of Margaid, they had pulled back to the academy to regroup. Finally, their entire civilization had to admit that the Blight was back, and it was time to face them.
The kicker was, no one seemed to have seen the beautiful lightshow that Eist had.
Well, except for Dille.
It had been rather startling when Eist dropped back to the ground amidst everyone hugging and celebrating, but no cries about magic, or wonderment about what she had done. Sure, she heard people asking what had happened, but no one’s head was swiveling to her. No one’s eyes viewed her accusingly.
When she’d found her friends, battered and exhausted as they were, only Dille had a knowing expression, cautioning Eist to keep her mouth shut. It wasn’t until she and her friend were alone later that night that they were able to talk about what they had actually seen, and what other people had told them they saw.
The two of them resolved to keep that between themselves as the entire camp celebrated then passed out. Of course, Ain and Athar tried to coax both of the girls out to at least eat, but Eist didn’t really feel like going anywhere people might see her.
Thankfully, the boys seemed to understand and didn’t push it, instead spending the night talking in their joined tents. They also all stayed together as the camps packed up and returned to the academy to regroup. Then set off for the journey home.
Home.
What a funny word.
Was the academy really home, or was it just a place that had been supposed to teach her how to be the best dragon rider she could be?
And how could it be home when every time she looked around, all she saw were signs of Yacrist?
There was the quill she had borrowed from him, sitting knocked over on her desk from Fior trying to get comfortable in her small dorm. Even just outside her door was the place he and Athar had waited for her in the hall. And she knew that later today, she would have to go to the cafeteria, where his memories would be all over the place.
There wasn’t a single place in the entire academy that wasn’t tied to him in her memory somehow. He was all over, in every facet, and she didn’t know how to handle that. It was worse than her parents all over again, because back then, she had thought her parents had just died. Now she wasn’t sure if Yacrist was dead and the Blight was just parading around in his body, or if there was some part of him alive in there.
She was more inclined to believe the latter. Although his words had been cruel, and his face twisted with jealousy and hatred when they last spoke, she couldn’t help but see bits of her friend there. Trapped somewhere behind those bright, beautiful eyes.
Was he really never going to flirt with her again? Never say anything far too serious in a light conversation? Never look at her with those intense, confusing gazes that she never understood?
That thought made her heart ache and she felt as if she was facing losing him all over again. It was one thing to accept his death and then throw herself into battle, but it seemed to be another entirely to sit in the vast emptiness and quiet of the academy and remember everything she’d lost.
Finally, the large, gaping wound within her had to be faced. For the time being, Yacrist was gone, and it was up to her to get him back.
She would.
She couldn’t not.
But she supposed she had to find out how.
Eist had thought that the academy had gotten intense and frantic right after that red dragon had crashed into the middle of their training field two years earlier, but that was nothing compared to the furor the entire compound threw itself into now.
All of her class was suddenly given access to live steel weapons and thrown into drills, battle scenarios, and sparring for hour after hour after hour. The dragons didn’t have it easy either, with any of their riders’ free time going to flying formations and other maneuvers.
But the frenzy of it all was nice. It helped Eist forget. If she didn’t have to think, she didn’t have to feel. And feeling was the worst thing she could do at the moment.
Thankfully, Ale’a and the others called upon her and her friends often to help during drills. It was easier to correct another student’s posture or fix their hold on their weapon than try to think of their future.
Nights were harder, of course. After dinner, Eist and her friends went back down to the library, searching through all of the ancient texts that she hadn’t already rifled through during things with grandfather, and some of them that she had gone through but didn’t really remember.
It was strangely akin to their time in Margaid, down in the archives toiling away, trying to find some secret. But this time, her parents didn’t whisper the path to her. Her vision didn’t offer any benefit either, never glowing gold or blue or anything really. Just seeing in the dark.
Nights after the library weren’t much better. Dille had taken up residence outside with the many dragon riders who were flocking to the academy from all over the continent, her two dragons far too large to fit in their dorm or even perch on the balcony.
It wasn’t like she was alone out there. There was an open call for every single dragon-bonded, from retired to injured to disgraced, and they were actually answering the call. Eist watched more and more of them appear each day, from riders that she had seen there before, to battle-scarred, ragged riders that looked more like vagabonds than honorable soldiers.
Ain and Athar still shared their dorm, and as far as Eist knew, that hadn’t really changed, so that just left her entirely on her own.
She remembered once she had preferred being alone. That she had thought that time with others was a waste and she would never enjoy it. But now, she missed it. She missed it, but she couldn’t build up the courage to tell her friends that she needed them in a way she had never needed them before.
Because how she needed them… Well, it was weak. Especially since everything was her fault. If she had just been a bit smarter, stronger, then Yacrist would still be there. He wouldn’t be possessed by her people’s greatest enemy.
Eist shook her head and banished those thoughts. She needed sleep if she was going to be stronger for tomorrow. And she had to be stronger.
Everything depended on it.
“How is it that you’ve survived more than a month in battle but your grip on your halberd is still wrong?”
Eist stood from the middle of her personal drill and looked over her shoulder to see Ale’a standing there, dressed in a loose jerkin and simple breeches.
The woman had changed a bit since they had all rode out together. Although the city had tried to keep them properly supplied, there still wasn’t nearly as much food. Add to that the constant physical demands of war, and the woman had lost a portio
n of her muscle and size. Her skin was more golden than it was before—apparently her hours of patrolling the camps during both day and night had left her with a deep, deep tan. Her long red braid was also gone, cut short into a classic rider’s style with a deep scar running from her eye to the side of her head. Eist didn’t know the exact details of how she had gotten that wound, but the near-deaf girl had heard there’d been a mercenary doing something he shouldn’t and there’d been quite a fight.
“Is it wrong if I’m still alive and my enemies are not?”
Ale’a raised the eyebrow of her non-scarred eye. Although Eist had seen a different side of her, a harder, more violent side, she still respected the woman. Maybe she even respected the woman more.
“If you weren’t blessed with gifts, would you be?”
Eist wanted to deny it, but there was a point there. If she didn’t have any gifts, she would most definitely be dead. She would have been killed by that healer before she could ever save her grandfather.
Speaking of her grandfather, where was she? Had she even talked to him in weeks? She didn’t think so. Had he sent her any crows? Or ravens? She didn’t know. She hadn’t paid attention to any of that.
Nothing had mattered beyond the battle.
“Hello? You there?”
Eist blinked and looked back to Ale’a. “Oh. Yeah, huh. You gonna help me fix it then, or just continue to critique my style?”
“Actually, you look like you could use a break. Where’s your cadre of friends?”
Eist licked her lips, trying to recall everything they had said to her at the noon-day meal. “Dille is out riding with her two dragons, Athar is helping assemble a ballista with that team, and Ain is working with other students on archery.”
Ale’a didn’t ask of Yacrist. Although he had no funeral or procession, word had gotten out that the last surviving heir of the Auber family was dead. They didn’t know that he was worse than dead, but Eist was still trying to fix that.
If she could fix that.
“Hmm, well, loneliness doesn’t sit right on you. Come with me.”
Eist dropped her defensive stance and rolled her neck. She felt so stiff lately, so achy. Maybe she could ask Dille to go with her to the steam baths. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d gone together.
“Where are we going?”
“To meet some of my own friends.”
“Wait, you have friends?” Eist didn’t mean it the way it came out. It was just that Ale’a was the only one of her age group at the academy. Somewhere between graduated and a professor, she was the only dragon rider that Eist knew who was in their late twenties. She was also the only dragon rider who Eist had ever known who was mostly grounded from general service.
“Believe it or not. Most of my classmates are dead, but there’s a couple handfuls of us left.” She shook her head. “You know, I just had my twenty-eighth harvest. It’s wild to think how few of us are still flying. A hundred and three of us graduated. At last count, though, there were twenty of us.”
“That’s so few,” Eist breathed, thinking of all her classmates. Even after all that they had lost, there were still a hundred and a handful. In twelve years’ time, would her group suffer the same fate?
Actually, the better question was if they would even live that long.
“Yeah. And it’s going to get fewer.” Ale’a shrugged, her large shoulders rippling. “War is like that. But it’ll be worth it if we can end this once and for all.”
“Once and for all,” Eist agreed.
They fell into a comfortable sort of silence as the large woman led her into the academy and to the farthest wing that Eist never frequented. It was on the opposite side of the feeding area, caddy-corner to the caves and camping field. The young woman looked around, taking in the unfamiliar sight.
It seemed less official than the rest of the building. More like a large, communal place that had been built first and then had the academy rise around it.
“Is this the teachers’ quarters?” she asked as she hurried to keep up with Ale’a’s large strides down the hall.
“No, those are a floor above. This…this is a place for dragon riders. We’ve got our own infirmary here that the healers will frequent if there’s need. Our own eating quarters. Place to polish and repair armor. Blacksmith even down at the end. And of course, the most important part…”
They hung a left and the hall opened up into a room that wasn’t all that different from the cafeteria. Except for the fact that it wasn’t a cafeteria at all, and rather what looked like a ramshackle tavern faced her.
“Ah, Scarlett!” a slurred voice called out from between the differently-sized tables. “You’re late.”
Ale’a rolled her eyes and strode toward the table. Eist saw there were three dragon riders already sitting there, each of them more different than the last.
The slurring man beamed at Ale’a, his teeth shining brilliantly behind his golden skin. He had the deep tan of Margaidian aristocracy, but the broader features of Dille’s class. A gem was imbedded in one of his too-white teeth and a gold ring hung from one of his eyebrows. Eist had thought that facial piercings were a Baldred thing.
There was a woman next to him who was as slender as Dille had been when she had first arrived. Her skin was so pale that it was almost translucent, while her hair was shaved bald. Deep, chocolate eyes looked out from under her thick brows. She reminded Eist of a predator, the kind that didn’t hunt outright, but rather laid in wait in the perfect trap.
The final person was a bookish-looking man with sandy brown hair pulled back like Athar preferred to wear his and spectacles upon his face. Despite his mousy demeanor and posture, she saw several intense scars down his neck and on one of his hands. There was an interesting story there.
“Whoseizis this?” the first man continued, looking at Eist with a curious eye. She got the feeling that his drunken antics were more an act than anything and reminded herself that these people were no doubt just as dangerous as Ale’a.
“This is Eist. You probably know her as the W’allenhaus girl.”
At that, the brown-haired one leaned forward. “You’re the brindled dragon rider, yes?”
Eist gave him a sharp look. “How did you know that?” For four years, no one, not even Elspeth, had known what her dragon was. There was no way a general dragon rider could know that.
“Word gets around after enough see you. And I might have been one of those volunteers to work in the archives with you.”
Eist’s gaze only hardened. “I think I would have noticed you.”
But the man only grinned at that, looking pleased as punch. “Would you?”
Eist inhaled to respond but then Ale’a was talking. “Be nice, Maston. She hasn’t had an easy week.”
“Have any of us?” the spectacled man said in amusement as he sat back. Eist wanted to ask him if he’d had his best friend yanked out of his embrace to be consumed by the evil force that was threatening to destroy his home, but she—barely—kept a lid on it. The less people who knew about that, the more likely it was she could get Yacrist back.
“Anyway, Eist, this is Maston. He’s about half as smart as he thinks he is, which is still entirely too clever.” The man winked, further settling into his chair. Suddenly, he didn’t look bookish at all. Just predatory, like the woman next to him.
“This is Charlotte of Garden-fell,” Ale’a continued, letting her arm rest on Eist’s shoulders and turning her away from the still-smirking Maston.
“Lottie, please,” the woman said, her stern face cracking into the sweetest smile Eist had ever seen. She offered her hand, and of course Eist took it, but she suddenly saw why it would be so easy to fall into any trap set by the rider in front of her. In just a breath, the woman had gone from intimidating to utterly beguiling. “I heard you did some impressive work with the second wave.”
“Did you?” Eist asked, swallowing harshly. Again, most people didn’t know about their failed venture
to cut off the Blight from everything. They knew about the studying in the archives but that was it.
Lottie nodded. “One of my mates was there with you. Tall guy with a blue dragon. His sister-twin was with him?”
Eist nodded. “I remember them. They were very competent leaders. I learned a lot from them.”
The woman groaned. “Oh, please don’t tell him that. Lamonde doesn’t need any bigger of a head.”
“Yeah, yeah, stop hogging the girl. It’s time for my introduction!” The last man pushed back from the table then suddenly he was standing in his chair, one booted foot planted on the table. “I am Valcrest of Pa’agal, rider extraordinaire and cartographer of the seas! I protect both our shores and supplies, felling pirates and razing their ships to the—”
“By the Three, Valcrest, just shut up and finish your drink before you fall over and get us kicked out of here.”
“Again,” Lottie added lightly, rolling her eyes before she took another deep drink from her own tankard.
“Fine, fine,” the man said, practically collapsing from his seat. His hand almost immediately went to his head and then he was tugging at some cloth. The next thing Eist knew, he pulled the strip of fabric from his head and his thick, black tresses were falling down to settle over both himself and the table.
Instantly she was reminded of Arwylln, and she barely managed to keep her jaw from dropping.
“Here,” he said, looking up at her with foggy eyes. “A gift, to a new friend.”
“All-Mother’s grace, you’re ridiculous,” Ale’a breathed, snatching up the cloth and going to stand behind the man. “Sit up. I’m going to put this in a braid, so you don’t end up getting sick on it again.”
“What are you talking about!?” the man objected theatrically. “I can hold my mead like no other!”
“Your bedsheets would argue differently,” Maston muttered. “And as the person who always ends up dragging you to the baths…”
