Ashborn Chapter 4
Dareya meets her dragon for the first time since the Bonding Ceremony. He swears he’ll make her scream. She’s not sure he meant in battle.
It was still dark when the bells pealed through the barracks warning us that it was almost time to report for training.
I dressed quickly in my new uniform, Dark charcoal leather with a gray shirt peeking at the collar from underneath the jacket, the fresh rank sewn on the epaulets caught the dim light. I’d never worn rank like this before, not one that turned heads.
I reported to the training field, unsure what waited there. No one had told me the schedule. No one had to. The Order ran like clockwork.
Sure enough, the field was buzzing with chatter as the other bonded women arrived. Fifteen of us in total, forming lines with practiced ease.
Only the five of us freshly bonded at the ceremony wore the new uniform. The rest had been with the Order for at least a decade; their dragons already trained to ride and command.
The leader of our group turned to Warden Brielle, as she walked up.
“Fifteen Present.” She reported with a salute. “One on regular leave; two on maternity leave.”
“Good. Fall in.” She returned the salute, and the leader of the group stepped into the formation with us.
I blinked. Maternity leave? I’d known, abstractly, that Riders weren’t discouraged from starting families, but hearing it said like any other logistical note hit differently.
“Today you will learn to mount the creature with which you bonded.” Warden Brielle’s voice was sharp. “You will approach your dragon and attempt to mount once. Once only. If you fail, fall, or the dragon refuses or throws you, you will not try again today. You only mount if you are invited.”
I looked up into the gray fog of the early morning. The dragons were grouped at the far end of the field. Veyrakh stood a short distance from the others.
“Each of you,” Warden Brielle continued, “has survived the Crucible. You were chosen, or at least tolerated, by your dragons. That doesn’t make you Riders. Not yet.”
A whistle sounded. The dragons moved towards us.
I felt Veyrakh’s breath on me.
He didn’t kneel. Didn’t even lower his shoulder or head.
He just stared me down as if to say well?
No saddle. No instructions.
I began to climb his leg, using scales as handholds and footholds. He didn’t make it easy. Every time I got a little higher, he’d ripple his muscles. Each time he rippled his muscles I got the impression that he was laughing at my feeble attempt.
Several times I almost slipped.
Finally, I pulled myself over his shoulder, using his wing to push off with my foot and sit on his back. My gloved hands clutched the spine on his neck and my legs latched tightly as possible against his back. He shot into the air.
I gasped at the sudden, unexpected movement, nearly losing my grip.
The wind rushed past, cold, buffeting my face and tearing at my jacket. My thighs were burning from how tightly I was clinging to Veyrakh’s back. I would certainly have bruises.
Laughter in my head. “You should hold on tighter, Vel’shaari.” The voice was smug. Silken. Amused. Then darker, warmer: “Next time I’m between your legs, I’m going to make you scream.”
Heat rose up my neck. Did he say what I thought he said? “Excuse me?”
With that, he entered a fast, nearly vertical dive, nearly unseating me again. I screamed.
“Just proving a point. You should know which way I’m going, what I’m doing next, by feel of my muscles beneath you.”
With that, he slowed down a bit to let me start getting a feel for it, putting it together. I started noticing the little movements before any changes in direction. Soon I was turning with him, following him. Not fighting him. Not hanging on for dear life.
I looked out at the landscape below. We were flying over the training field. A shrill whistle signaled for our return. Ready to go back?
“Not really,” I admitted. “But we don’t have a choice.”
Veyrakh went into a spiraling dive, crashing gracelessly onto the grass not far from Warden Brielle and the other Riders. “I miscalculated that.” He admitted, slyly.
I tumbled from his back.
“Dareya.” Warden Brielle approached as I was dusting off my legs. “You need to work on your landings and dismounts.”
I nodded. Then ran to join the other Riders already formed up to get the debriefing and dismissal to take breakfast and report to the next training. My stomach growled.
“Does anyone else’s dragons talk to them?” I asked, as I sat with the other Riders, opening the ration pack I had just picked out of the basket. “Say anything that might be considered borderline inappropriate?”
“Just to give instructions.”
“Not really. More impressions.” She thought a moment, chewing. “Why?”
I sighed. Great. I get the immature adolescent. “No reason.” I look off in the direction the dragons had taken off, silently eating my food.
Later that evening, after training finished for the day, I sat in a nearby tavern with a mix of older Riders and a few who had been in the Crucible with me. We had long since finished off the food, and we nursed our tankards of ale like they were the only thing keeping us upright.
I half-listened as the conversation drifted and echoed around the table.
“Back when I was going through the Crucible, we had to do the night climb without ropes,” one of the older Riders was saying.
Oh, look, Veyrakh said dryly. The ancient speaks.
I coughed into my drink to hide a laugh. Another woman said something about instructors breaking collarbones to make a point.
Poor little thing. Did your feelings get hurt when the scary lady yelled at you?
I took another sip, staring into the foam. “Veyrakh, for the love of all that is mildly tolerable, shut up.”
Across the table someone raised an eyebrow.
“What was that, Calderin?”
I blinked. “Oh, nothing. Just, um, thinking out loud.”
Thinking out loud? Is that what we’re calling it now? You’d miss me if I went quiet.
Like I’d miss food poisoning.
Ah, he said with a mock sigh, but at least I leave a lasting impression. And sometimes a little heat...
I choked on my ale.
What? I meant indigestion.
“You good?” someone asked.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Fine. Went down wrong.”
That’s what she said, Veyrakh added.
You are the worst. I growled in my head.
Yet here I am. Still yours.
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