Ambushed (The Brindle Dragon Book 4)

by Jada Fisher

  Eist thought of Dille in that clearing, standing in front of her with that retching power and cold smile. It made her shiver, and her friend squeezed her hand comfortingly.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna defect.”

  “I know that,” Eist said. “If anyone is too stubborn for the corruption of the Blight, it’s you.”

  “Is that what you think happened to that healer? That she was corrupted by the Blight?”

  Eist nodded. “That’s at least how she got started. I know other things had to have happened after that, like she somehow pulled a tiny bit of the Blight into herself, or gave it her body or something, but the corruption had to have been the first step.”

  Dille shuddered too. “It wouldn’t be so unsettling if everyone wasn’t so insistent that she was just mad and bent on murder.”

  “Humans do seem particularly adept at denying what’s right in front of their faces.”

  “They do.” Dille cocked her head to the side. “Do you hear water?”

  Eist gave her a look. “Really?”

  “Sorry. It’s easy to forget sometimes.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “This way,” Dille said, tugging her hand. “I hear it this way.”

  They picked up their pace, not quite jogging, but definitely moving faster than their former leisurely stroll. Soon enough, they reached a small brook gently flowing between three thick trees, so large that Dille and Eist could hug either side and still not join hands.

  “It probably widens down the way,” Eist said, straddling the water and crouching to look it over. It looked fairly clean and there were plenty of rocks, meaning that it was filtered from many of the threats that bred in stagnant water.

  “Probably, but we should go get the others first.”

  “Do you want to mark the way or—” Eist was cut off when Fior took a running leap into the brook and landed as hard as he could with all four legs. Water splashed up, soaking the lower half of her body. “Fior!”

  The water was cool, but it wasn’t nearly warm enough for it to dry quickly. And with the sun setting in a few hours, it would no doubt become uncomfortable to be wandering around half-damp. But her little guy just looked up at her happily before flopping onto his back and rolling all around the shallow water.

  “You’re getting covered in mud,” Eist said with a sigh. But she wasn’t really mad. He was far too cute for that, and he definitely knew it. He was too smart for his own good.

  “I’ll mark the way,” Dille said with a laugh. “It looks like you’ve got enough on your hands.”

  “Shouldn’t men and women be camping separately?”

  Eist got the feeling that maybe she didn’t like Freidrick. There was nothing wrong with asking questions, but he didn’t ask questions like someone seeking an answer. Instead, all of his queries sounded like someone who thought they already knew what was right and was just trying to correct someone else without saying it outright. It grated on her nerves, and they’d only been together for one day.

  Fjorin was less pleasant and understanding than Wycoff. “Do you really think that after days of flying and fighting, when your bones are so tired you feel like you might collapse in on yourself, that dragon riders would take the time to separate themselves by what’s between their legs?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Sometimes you’ll be too tired to even remove your pack. You’ll just curl into your dragon and hope that when you wake up, your body will hurt a little less.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Alright, now that we have that nonsense out of the way, all of you are old enough to govern yourself, and if you’re not, you don’t deserve to be a rider. We’re not here to hold your hands and make sure you act like high society. We’re here to teach you how to survive and make sure you live long enough to get back to the academy. Understood?”

  There was a chorus of agreement and the man nodded, going to set up his tent in the center of the camp that they had cleared up for themselves. Wycoff went to the edge for his shelter, and everyone else split up accordingly.

  “How scandalized do you think Freidrick would be if we connected all of our tents together?” Ain asked, sidling up to Eist and Dille.

  “We can do that?” Yacrist questioned, joining them.

  “Why not? Our tents are just this thick fabric over branches we just cut down. With a little clever rearranging, I bet we could get a solid little community shelter out of it.”

  “I’m not sure—” Athar started.

  “Oh, relax,” Ain said with a wave of his hand. “We’ll make sure the girls have their own half and we have ours. I’m not suggesting any fraternization, I’m just saying…” he trailed off and when he continued, his tone was lacking the normal teasing sarcasm that he usually wielded. “Safety in numbers, right? I don’t know about you all, but I’d like to get one year where Eist doesn’t steal all the attention.”

  “Hey—” Yacrist and Athar both objected before Eist laughed sharply.

  “You know, I wouldn’t mind a year without that either,” she said, pulling her tent materials from her bag. It weighed quite a bit and it was a relief to have it off her back. Normally, dragon riders had their mounts carry their packs for convenience sake, but only Veralda was big enough to do so and Dille insisted on carrying her things just like everyone else. “So, I’m trusting you have an idea how to do this?”

  “Oh, I’ve got an idea. Athar, all of these branches are regular people sized. I’m going to need you to cut down about fifteen of them that are you-sized.” Ain looked to Eist, his gaze twinkling in that way that let her know he was about to say something that he thought was clever. “I don’t suppose you packed a stepstool?”

  “You’re hilarious,” Eist retorted before pulling out the straps that were supposed to bind their posts together.

  “I know. My humor is really wasted on all of you.”

  Eist chuckled, appreciating his scathing commentary when it wasn’t done in enmity, then they got to work. It took a bit of experimenting, and their structure collapsed once or twice before they managed to stabilize it and tie it to a nearby tree. If Fjorin or Wycoff thought anything of their cobbled-together tent, they said nothing, and not too long after darkness fell, the five of them were setting their bedrolls up inside of their shelter.

  Eist and Dille did indeed get their own half, and there was so much space it almost felt unfair. Fior cuddled up beside his future rider while Veralda could only stick her head under the bottom of the tent and press her long snout against Dille.

  Alynbach and Ain’s golden dragon huddled together in the middle, making an effective barrier between them and the boys. Eist had the feeling that the barrier was more for Athar’s shyness than anyone’s care about propriety.

  And speaking of the mountain of a man, he too had a red dragon who could only fit her large head into the tent, which she rested on his chest. Eist didn’t actually know much about Ain and Athar’s mounts beyond their names, other than the two were practically inseparable and preferred to spend most of their time on the roof or only with their future-riders.

  They didn’t say it, but Eist couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of how Fior had attacked Ain and used his strange bellow all those years ago. Although it was water under the bridge, it had happened during their formative years.

  Or maybe they were just too similar to the boys, preferring each other’s company and never trusting anybody else. That probably made more sense.

  Thinking of the past made Eist feel nostalgic, however, and she lifted her head as she made herself comfortable.

  “Hey, Ain.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Remember when you slapped me?”

  Unsurprisingly, it was Yacrist who reacted first. “You what?!”

  “Relax, it was a while ago,” Eist said, rolling her eyes at his dramatics like she always did.

  “Any reason why you’re bringing this up now?”

  “Just thinking. I never real
ly got you back for that.”

  Despite her bad ear, she could almost hear his grin as he answered her. It was no doubt toothy and just this side of flirting and threatening. “Are you itching to now?”

  “No. I’m comfortable. Just thinking that it’s not fair I never got to slap you back.”

  “Fair enough. I tell you what, you get one slap, anytime you want, and I won’t retaliate.”

  “That’s awfully magnanimous of you. Especially considering you once tried to kick me out of the academy.”

  “Wait, when did all of this happen? Why didn’t you ever tell us!?”

  “Relax, Yacrist,” Dille said with a sigh. “Let Eist have her secrets. Without them, she might spontaneously combust.”

  “And we wouldn’t want that,” Ain added.

  “No, we wouldn’t want that at all,” Dille agreed.

  Those two were a pair alright. If they kept getting more comfortable around each other, Eist wasn’t sure if the world would be able to survive it.

  “Alright then. One slap sometime down the road.”

  Was this what it was like to have a group of friends? It felt nice. Instead of just having only Dille and Yacrist, she had two more she could trust. Maybe someday she would tell them about the magic and see if they felt the same cloying apprehension that she did. But for the moment, what they had would suffice.

  9

  Wild Times

  The nice thing about their excursion was that they got to keep the same campsite the entire time they were there, provided there were no extreme weather events. Eist imagined that packing up their giant contraption every night and setting it up every morning would have been more trouble than it was worth.

  Their second day was spent foraging—the twelve of them split into two groups, one with Wycoff and one with Fjorin. Of course, there was far too much to learn to possibly be covered in one morning, but they learned plenty of basics, including how to set simple traps.

  Their night was spent building their main fire. Eist thought that maybe Fjorin’s great red dragon would just get it going with a short puff of his breath, but he insisted the hopefuls would be able to start it themselves. It took a few tries, but unsurprisingly, it was Yacrist who got it going first.

  After all, he had managed to set his cloak on fire with just a bit of flint when there was a room of mystical shadows staring him down, and their camping situation was far less stressful than that.

  The boy didn’t even try to hide his preening as they all set about cooking and washing the food they had foraged, as well as boiling water to refill their waterskins.

  By the time everyone was sliding into bed, their bellies were full, and their bodies were sore. Eist found herself slipping into sleep much faster than she ever did at the academy. It was blissful and warm, and Fior felt just right pressed all along the length of her. It was—

  Someone was shaking her.

  She groaned and tried to roll over, but then a worried trill from Fior had her sitting up.

  “Eist, wake up,” Dille was hissing, barely loud enough for her to hear.

  “What is it?” she asked groggily, rubbing her eyes. The tent was pitch dark, the only illumination being what little firelight slipped under the tent around Veralda’s head. A moment later, it was blazing to life brighter than day, courtesy of Eist’s new vision.

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “You woke me up because you don’t know?”

  Dille’s tone sharpened, and it struck a chord in Eist. “We need to get everyone up and dressed.”

  Eist didn’t need any more explanation than that. If her friend said everyone needed to get up, then everyone was about to be woken up none to gently. Jumping to her feet, she pulled her boots on hurriedly, not bothering to lace them up, and threw on her belt that had her sword attached to it. It might have been dulled and meant for practice, but she had been taught to never have it leave her side, and she wasn’t about to forget that.

  “Boys, wake up!” she said, rushing over to them while Dille darted out of the tent. Veralda followed her, wuffling confusedly. “You need to get up right now!”

  It was Athar who responded first, eyes snapping open to look up at her blearily. “Eist?”

  “Come on. Up! Arm yourself!”

  “What’s happening?” Ain asked, sitting up with a groan.

  “I don’t know. Just get ready.”

  “Get ready for what?”

  “I don’t know. Just get ready!”

  To their credit, they didn’t question her further. Even Yacrist, who she had to shake awake three times, still got up and put on his shoes and weapons belt.

  By the time the four of them stumbled out into camp, she could see several other confused dragon hopefuls and hear the bellowing voice of Fjorin.

  “Why are you waking me, lass?”

  There was a muffled reply and then more frustrated shouts, but somehow, Dille succeeded in dragging Fjorin out into the open by his arm. At that point, everyone seemed to have heard his bellyaching and even Wycoff on the edge of the camp was stumbling out of his tent.

  “Unhand me, girl,” the large man shouted, pulling his limb from her grasp. “Now, what blasted things did you—”

  A thhhk sounded through the air and the next thing anybody knew, an arrow bolt buried itself in the tree between them.

  “Get down!” he cried, diving back into his tent, no doubt to grab his weapons. A roar sounded as his dragon rose to all four of its legs, its massive head looking this way and that.

  Suddenly, the entire camp burst to life. Dragons scrambled toward their future riders, students ran for cover, doubled over and hunkered close to the ground. Shouts sounded from all around them in the woods as more arrows flew.

  “Bandits!” Fjorin cried, pulling a truly massive sword from his belt. “Arterius, Branmmur!”

  His dragon let out another roar and then opened its mouth, creating a huge plume of flame that billowed out like a wall. It hit the trees surrounding their camp and flared up, creating a bit of a shield so the attackers on the other side couldn’t see them.

  But they could still fire arrows, and that was when Eist noticed something confusing about the spray.

  It didn’t seem like they were really aiming at anything. In fact, most of their shots were going absurdly high, as if they were more meant to be a distraction than actually hurt anyone.

  “No!” Eist cried, getting up and running to Fjorin. Fior followed after her, chuffing at her in concern, but she didn’t stop until she caught the dragon rider’s eye. “They’re not trying to kill us,” she cried, her mind flicking back to that moment in the market. “I think they’re slavers, not bandits! Or they want young dragons. They’re here to take us, not our things.”

  Fjorin looked at her, his blue eyes seeming to calculate things quickly, before he gave her a nod. “Keen eye, girl. Gather the students in the center then, have your dragons form a circle around you. Tell those of your who are adept with a bow to shoot to kill. Do not hesitate.”

  Eist nodded, swallowing harshly, and ran to do as he said. Time seemed to slow as she rushed to do as he instructed.

  By the time they were all pressed in a circle around his tent, dragons in front of them with Wycoff, Arterius and Fjorin facing the wall of fire, a kind of stillness filled the air.

  “Wait, was it that easy?” someone asked from beside her.

  There was no answer for several beats before Dille drew in a sharp breath. “They’ve surrounded us.”

  Before Eist could even contemplate what she had said, there was a massive series of shouts from around them and then men were pouring in through trees.

  “Defend yourselves!” Fjorin cried, lifting his sword and rushing forward.

  And just like that, Eist was pulled into her first real battle.

  It was different from her previous fights, where it was her against someone who was too strong, too powerful for her to ever hope to win. These were humans. Armed, violent, but not otherwo
rldly.

  Their circle suddenly expanded outward rapidly, dragons attacking in the first waves. While none of their charges really had their secondary abilities, that didn’t stop them from attacking with claws and teeth.

  Veralda herself surged forward, her claws digging into a man’s shoulders before lifting him into the sky. Arterius, too big to really perform any aerial attacks because of the trees, spun this way and that, his jaws and tail taking out plenty of the men.

  But the young dragons could only do so much, and Eist surged forward, her blade raised. Her path led her to an attacker who was about to drive his sword into the belly of a golden dragon. She checked him with her shoulder, sending him stumbling back, and slammed her sword against his head.

  It was far too dull to cut into his flesh, but that didn’t stop it from working as a metal club, and he toppled over. Eist stood, scanning the battle again, and saw three men running for her. She braced herself, her mind quickly calculating the best way to dodge, distract, and disarm, but they didn’t even reach her before several arrows flew through the air, burying themselves in the slavers’ chests.

  Eist looked backward to see several of her fellow students already nocking arrows to their bows.

  She nodded her thanks, fairly impressed, when she heard a cry echo through her head.

  “Eist!”

  It sounded like Dille, but she couldn’t see the dark-skinned girl anywhere around her. Yet her voice seemed like it was right beside her. Eist spun back to the tree line just in time to see a sword sweeping toward her arm.

  She brought her blade up, meaning to deflect, but the power of her blow sent her to her knees. Right, these weren’t her academy mates sparring with her. These were fully grown men that were no doubt stronger than her. She had to think with her head, not her muscles.

  Tilting her blade, his momentum made his slide out of harm’s way and she spun on her knees, out of his path. Throwing herself on her side, she kicked at his closest knee as hard as she could, and felt the sharp crack as it snapped.

  He went down onto his front, cursing and raising his weapon toward her. But Eist just slammed the flat of her blade against the back of his head as hard as she could and this time, he stilled.