Chosen (The Brindle Dragon Book 1)

by Jada Fisher

  Even if it wasn’t, she suspected that she had plenty to tell her grandfather the next time she saw him.

  10

  Taken for Granted, Taken Away

  Life had not grown any easier as the weeks progressed. Soon, Eist was finishing her first month at the Dragon Academy, and it felt like her weariness went right down to her bones.

  Grandfather certainly hadn’t been kidding about it being hard. In fact, she felt as if he had somehow managed to undersell just how difficult everything was. Now that their basic education was done, and they knew all about the white, red, blue, green, and metallic dragons, they were learning about important dragons throughout history. There were so many names to remember, and dates, that often Eist found her bright mind clouded over with too much information.

  And the physical training was just getting longer, and more intense. Every day, she collapsed onto her cot, sore and ready to sleep. During her second week, she—and many of the first-years—had been so exhausted that she had skipped bathing herself or washing her clothes for nearly the full seven days. However, that habit had been quickly abandoned when Ale’a assigned anyone who smelled ten extra laps and an order to do a teacher’s laundry as well. At first, she had wanted to argue that no one demanded baths in the field, but one look at Ale’a’s rippling muscles and intense expression had her snapping her jaw shut like a bear trap.

  Often, she was too exhausted to even visit her grandfather, even on their weekly breaks. In a month, she had somehow only managed to make it down to his work once, and even then, she had ended up curled on top of a pile of hay, fast asleep.

  At least he understood that this was temporary, and once she was in the second half of the year that her body would adapt to everything they were throwing at it. Then she would make sure to visit him every weekend, just like she promised. Even if she didn’t promise, though, she would be lying if she said she didn’t miss him.

  Thankfully, she did have some things to distract her from her loneliness. Or rather, some people. Dille, Yacrist, and she had become a sort of merry little group, studying together, taking meals together. As much as Eist had told herself she didn’t need friends, she found that people were more likely to leave her alone when in their company. Also, that laughing at silly jokes was very, very fun, and Yacrist was full of them.

  Even Ain seemed too tired to harass her, but she did feel his eyes on her quite often. Watching. Waiting. He hadn’t attempted to mess with her head since that bizarre and cold peck on the lips, but she figured he was just biding his time.

  But he could just keep on waiting, because she was far too exhausted to care about what his insecure mind might be cooking up. All she wanted to do was get through each day and sleep through the night.

  And it was in the middle of one such deep sleep session that a massive rumble nearly threw her out of bed and to the floor.

  Eist gasped and scrambled to put on her tunic over her night clothes, running out of her dorm to see several others standing in the hall.

  “What happened?” she asked, looking to the person next to her. Valk, maybe? She didn’t talk to him or his roommate often.

  But the young man just shrugged, looking as bewildered as she felt.

  Just then a bell rang from deep within the halls, rumbling through the floor and up to her teeth. She knew that bell, and it drove all the air from her chest.

  “No,” she whispered before taking off.

  Terror curled in her belly as she ran through the halls. She knew her way like the back of her hand, which meant that she didn’t have anything to distract her from the fear curdling her blood.

  It didn’t take her long to erupt out of the furthermost exit and pelt down the road, her feet taking her to the hatchery that she knew and loved.

  But she didn’t get close, not at all, because a huge group of people was already assembled, watching the intense blaze that shot up from the building attached to the hatchery cave.

  “What happened?” she asked the closest person, completely breathless.

  “Lightning struck the cave,” the woman answered, sounding just as scared and awed as Eist felt. “It was the biggest bolt that we’ve ever seen. Some folks say that they saw it from halfway across the city.”

  “But…how is that possible?”

  With so many dragons that controlled electricity or could cause storms, the city had long since set up a network of lightning rods to stop this very thing from happening. There hadn’t been a storm fire in ages and…actually, for that matter, there wasn’t even a storm.

  Eist looked up into the night sky, her heart racing. There was a thick cover of clouds, sure, but nothing remotely close to a tempest that could generate a bolt to override the rods. There was something suspicious about the woman’s story.

  But she didn’t have time to question it. She pushed through, her face reddening as she grew closer to the intense heat of the blaze. Finally, she managed to erupt from the crowd, and nearly ran into a line of people passing buckets from a well.

  More bells sounded, and she felt the downbeat of large wings around her. Several blue dragons landed, dragon riders perched on their backs in half-armor. With a few roars, they summoned the storm that was so missing.

  But there was no lightning this time, only torrents and torrents of rain. The water put out the worst of the flames and several workers in dripping wet robes with cloths over their mouth rushed in.

  Eist sprinted forward too, only to stop short when a tail slammed in front of her. She looked sharply to her side, ready to tell off whatever was in her way, only to see two wise sets of eyes staring at her.

  It was a blue dragon, one obviously much older than the five-year-old dragons she had mostly seen around the academy, and although it didn’t speak to her, she felt as if she could hear what it meant in her mind.

  It knew her. Or knew of her, it seemed. She knew students of certain dragon types often sectioned themselves off for training purposes, so maybe this one knew her parents? She couldn’t exactly ask, but something in its gaze told her she wasn’t going anywhere near the blaze.

  “But my grandfather’s in there,” she whispered, looking into the four sapphire eyes. “He’s all I’ve got.”

  One of the dragons let out a keening noise while the other just stared steadily. The next thing she knew, a small cloud formed over her, and she was suddenly drenched through every fiber of her being.

  “Thank you,” she gasped before stepping over its tail and rushing forward.

  The heat was absolutely oppressive, and she wanted nothing more than to shrink away. But what was a dragon rider that couldn’t stand a little fire? Her parents had survived worse, and she would too.

  She had almost reached the still raging fire and was set to tumble into the blaze, when she nearly ran into two people pulling someone out on a cot. Stopping dead in her tracks, her whole body lurched when she made out her grandfather’s blackened frame on the small, mobile bed.

  “Grandfather!” she cried, rushing to him. She reached his bed but the two men in soot-covered robes kept right on jogging, not slowing for a minute until they reached a tent a short ways away.

  Even then, she wasn’t able to reach his side as he was rushed by healers. It was such an intense flurry of movement that Eist couldn’t find a time to break in, and she feared that pushing the matter might distract one of the healers and endanger the old man’s life.

  So she stood, waiting, while they watered, debrided, bandaged, and balmed. It was some of the most painful, arduous moments of her life, and when they finally parted, she rushed forward again to sit at his side.

  Eist wanted to take his hand, to tell him that she was there and that there was nothing to worry about, but both of his limbs were bandaged so that not even a peep of skin showed, and she feared touching him would cause him pain.

  A hand alighted on her shoulder and she craned her neck to see one of the healers.

  “Is he going to be alright?” she croaked, refusing
to cry. Tears were for the dead, and he was not dead. He was hurt, but he would recover. He had to. He was centuries old, but it wasn’t his time yet.

  “We cannot say. We are doing the best we can by him, but we’ve used a distilled form of emerald gas to keep him asleep while he heals.”

  “Why does he have to be asleep?” Eist asked, her voice sounding small even to her. She knew for a fact that her grandfather hated oversleeping. He always called those instances brushes with death, and said he was already close enough to meeting The Grandfather’s embrace.

  “Because were he to wake, the pain would likely send him into fits of shock and his health would deteriorate rapidly.”

  “Oh…” What did she say to that? What words could possibly convey all the fear tightly wound inside of her? Her grandfather was her rock, her teacher and mentor. How could she survive without him?

  “Do not worry,” the healer said, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly once again. “We’ve had people pull through worse.”

  “That is good to know,” she murmured, feeling her heart crack within her chest. “But have you had people succumb to less?”

  The healer looked surprised by her question, as if they didn’t know how to respond, but that was answer enough. Her grandfather was in a tenuous position and, although she was not a religious person, it was clearly time to pray to the All-Mother. Maybe she would hear and grant Eist this small mercy.

  She could only hope.

  11

  Shortage

  Eist stared dully at the platform in front of all the seats. She was once again physically in the room where their rankings from the trials were announced, but her mind was with her grandfather.

  It had been a full day and a half since that terrible night, and she hadn’t left his side. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to be in trouble for skipping her classes and she only belatedly wondered if there had been any classes at all. She couldn’t be sure, and she certainly hadn’t wasted the energy to find out.

  She supposed she should have been grateful that by the time midday came, the fire had been put out and everyone in the healing tent was moved to the infirmary inside the academy, but she didn’t have any gratitude in her, only worry.

  If she had her way, she would still be sitting there beside her grandfather’s cot, watching his chest rise and fall. However, when Ale’a herself had come to collect her for a special, mandatory announcement, she knew that she couldn’t refuse.

  And that was how she found herself seated in one of the old, rickety chairs with all the rest of the first-years. She didn’t know where Dille and Yacrist were, and at the moment, it didn’t matter.

  After what seemed like a considerable amount of time that she could have spent with her grandfather, Elspeth and another council member entered. Everyone sat up and Eist felt the attention spike in the room, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

  More speeches, more pomp. She just wanted to know that her grandfather was alright.

  “As all of you know, there has been a terrible accident in our home,” Elspeth said, her tone actually sounding quite pained. It was only then that Eist remembered that she was the white rider, the sort of queen of dragons. Of course, she was heartbroken at what happened. “Last night, our children, our hope for tomorrow—” Her voice cracked, and she paused, looking as if she was trying to contain the emotions running through her. It didn’t seem possible, but Eist’s mood dropped even lower as she realized much more than her grandfather had been hurt.

  The other council member stepped forward, taking over for the woman as she breathed deeply. “Many of the eggs were destroyed. Of course, we tried saving them as best we could, but what’s done is done.”

  A gasp sounded throughout the entire room and even Eist’s over-encumbered heart ached. Dragon babies were so precious and revered that they were practically holy, and the thought of losing not just one but many was gut-wrenching to say the least.

  “We apologize to all of you, who have been training so hard for a dragon to choose you at the end of this year, because many of you will be left without one.”

  Another murmur of shock and disapproval.

  “This has never happened before, so we find ourselves faced with a new situation that we have not prepared for.

  “After careful deliberation, we have decided that there will be a final challenge at the end of the year to determine who is worthy to attend the hatching. Only the top half will continue on. Those of you who test below that rank are invited to return in ten years—without trials—and you can continue your education then.

  “Again, this is a sorrowful time for all of us, and I am deeply, deeply sorry to those of you who’s soulmates were taken away from this world before they even had a chance to join it. Please, if you find yourself in need of help, or to talk, we have counselors around the clock in the infirmary.”

  The council member gave a sort of half-bow then took Elspeth’s hand, leading the woman out. Eist didn’t think it was possible for her inner turmoil to twist any harder, but it certainly did at the thought of all of the potential lives so suddenly snuffed out. She tried not to think about it, but her mind slipped off into imagining what those lost dragons could have done, the lives they could have saved and the good they could have wrought.

  She was so deep in her mourning that she didn’t notice that the room had practically emptied until a shadow fell over her. Twisting, she saw none other than Ain’s mountain of a cohort standing behind her.

  “May I help you?” she croaked, feeling rage couple with her grief. He really wanted to bully her now of all times?

  “I’m sorry about your grandfather,” he said, voice surprisingly low and deep for his age. “I hope he gets better.”

  Eist just stared at him, utterly confused by his response.

  “I’m Athar, by the way. I don’t think I ever introduced myself.”

  Eist struggled for what to say. While this young man had never directly done something to hurt her like Ain had, he had been there to laugh with the blond boy mocked her, and protected Ain from the repercussions of his acts.

  “…you didn’t need to,” she said simply, too tired and distracted to be diplomatic about the moment.

  “Oh. I suppose that is true.” He stood there awkwardly a moment, before tipping his head and walking off, his hustle quite impressive for a boy that size.

  That was…strange.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  Facing forward again, she saw Dille and Yacrist standing in front of her. Where they had come from, she didn’t know, but she was grateful that they were there.

  “No. I might be the least okay I’ve been in my entire life.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Yacrist said, crossing to sit next to her. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

  “Not unless you know some amazing healing magic that’s been lost to this world for generations.”

  “I’m afraid I’m fresh out.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  Eist was surprised when Dille’s soft, dark hand reached out to take hers. She looked up at the slight girl and found only compassion in her dark eyes. “Come on, let’s go to the infirmary.”

  With a gentle sort of determination, she pulled Eist to her feet then started walking in the direction of the stairs that would lead them to their destination. A second later, Yacrist’s arm wrapped around her shoulders on her other side, and she found herself sandwiched between the two of them.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she murmured quietly, a strange sort of warmth taking away the bitter edge of her fear and hurt.

  “Of course we do,” Dille said matter-of-factly. “This is what friends are for.”

  Was it? Well, that explained why so many people were obsessed with the idea then. Letting herself finally trust them, Eist followed as they led her back to exactly where she wanted to be.

  Once she was at her grandfather’s side again, they pulled up two stools of their own and sat
down right beside her. Eist wasn’t sure what to do, but after a few minutes of quiet, Yacrist spoke up.

  “So, this is the guy who trained you before you got here?”

  Eist nodded dully, any smart retorts or snappy comebacks dying on her tongue.

  “He seems like he would be a serious teacher,” Dille remarked. “What’s the hardest lesson he ever taught you?”

  That made the corner of Eist’s mouth turn up for an ever-so-short moment. “Ah, that would definitely be the bees.”

  “The bees?” Yacrist asked. “Now that’s an answer that doesn’t answer anything. You’ve got to tell us that story.”

  She didn’t have to do anything, actually, but nevertheless, she found herself explaining the story to the two first-years, and she was surprised when the tale helped her to feel a bit better, like the rusted saw cutting through her had taken a bit of a break.

  So she continued telling stories for as long as they would listen, which turned out to be until well after sundown. In fact, it wasn’t until a healer gently ushered them out for curfew that she finally stopped.

  “I guess this is good night,” Eist said, her heart filling heavy again. She didn’t want to be away from Grandfather, and she certainly didn’t want to be alone.

  “I don’t see why it should be,” Dille said, linking her arm through Eist’s. “Your roommate still never showed up, right?” Eist nodded. “Perfect.”

  Perfect for what?

  But Eist didn’t get an answer, instead being led down the halls, up the stairs, and back to her room. There, Dille led her to the bed and tucked her in before sitting on the edge of it. Meanwhile, Yacrist flopped onto the empty cot across from her, turning on his side so he could gaze at the two of them.

  “Let’s see,” Dille said, grabbing a candle and one of Eist’s parchments from class. “How about we go over the Battle of Crestshire?”

  Eist nodded and the girl started reading off the notes. The distraction was welcome, and for the first time in over a day, Eist felt herself drifting toward sleep.