Capture (2 page)

“And you’re down here already?” she asked, turning to give him a curious look. A dragon and rider usually spent time together after a ride, before the dragon retired to its lair farther up the mountain. “Is everything okay, Nykin?”

Nykin hefted his gear onto the empty rack and leaned against it. “No. I made a mistake.” He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. “We were flying out over the sea. Fimor told me the angle was too steep and the wind too strong, but I ordered him into the dive anyway.”

“What happened?” Selene’s voice had an edge to it all of a sudden. Rider and dragon
always
worked together—they were taught that as soon as they’d bonded.

“We nearly crashed onto the rocks,” Nykin continued, wincing at the scowl on Selene’s face.

“Nykin, you sh—”

He held up his hand to cut her off before she could chastise him further. He didn’t need anyone else telling him how badly he’d messed up. “I know, Selene. I know.”

She looked like she was ready to say more on the subject, but the sudden appearance of Jaken saved Nykin. He came skidding into the storeroom, out of breath, and it took him a few seconds of gulping in air before he could talk.

Selene raised an expectant eyebrow, still clearly in a pissy mood, and Nykin shook his head when Jaken glanced over at him as if to ask
what’s her problem?

“Ryneq has requested all dragon riders come to the great hall,” Jaken managed eventually.

Nykin felt the familiar prickle of heat, low in his belly, at the mention of the king’s name, but he resolutely pushed it away. “Now?”

“Yes.” Jaken was already trying to usher them out the door. “Everyone else is there already. We’re just waiting on you and Selene.”

Nykin frowned and looked down at himself. It had been a hard ride earlier, and he was covered in sweat and salty spray from the sea. He didn’t need a mirror to know that his dark-blond hair, thankfully not anywhere near as long as Selene’s, hung limp and matted around his shoulders. He looked a mess and had no intention of going to see the king without at least changing his clothes.

“I’ll meet you there.” He gestured at himself with a wave of his hand and grinned. “I just need to get cleaned up first.”

“Oh.” Jaken scrunched up his nose in distaste as if only just noticing the dire state of Nykin’s attire. “Yes, okay.” He shooed Selene through the door before casting one last glance over at Nykin. “You need to hurry, though, Nykin. You know Ryneq hates to be kept waiting.”

As soon as they’d left, Nykin hurried through the storeroom to the large changing areas at the back. The Eyrie itself was connected to the palace by a steep set of steps cut into the rock. It was a long walk to the lower town, where most of the dragon riders lived, so each rider kept a few spare sets of clothes and other essentials at the Eyrie. The room behind the storeroom split into two just after the entrance, since there were more or less equal numbers of male and female riders, and Nykin veered off to the right.

He sighed and quickly peeled off his filthy clothes, only shivering a little in the cool air. The wash areas basically consisted of a continuous stream of water, coming from high up in the mountain. It flowed in through the roof and fell in four long showers before disappearing back into the ground and away again. The dragons’ lairs lay all around the source of the water, and more often than not, they would heat the water with their fiery breath so their riders wouldn’t have to bathe in the cold.

But judging by the way Fimor had left so abruptly, Nykin doubted very much that he’d be getting any help from the dragons today. He rubbed his thumb over his mark and concentrated. The burnt-orange flames of the fire triangle glowed brightly, warmth flaring over Nykin’s skin as the telepathic connection was made.

“Fimor?”
Nykin tried, only to be met by silence. He waited a moment before trying again.
“Fimor?”

Nothing.

“I know you can hear me, Fimor.”
Nykin shivered again.
“And I know you’re mad at me
.
”
He heard an annoyed huff in his head.
“With good reason,”
he added quickly.
“But I need to go meet Ryneq, and I’m in a bit of a state. A little hot water would be much appreciated
.
”

He felt the connection break without an answer and resigned himself to a very fast and very cold wash. At least he’d be quick this way. He was already taking longer than he should, and he didn’t want to provoke Ryneq’s temper. Nykin took a deep breath and braced himself for the inevitable shock as he stepped fully under the water.

The water felt…
warm
. Okay, so not piping hot like it would have been if Fimor wasn’t upset with him, but not the freezing cold he’d expected either. He smiled to himself and proceeded to scrub at the dirt in his hair and on his body as quickly as was humanly possible.

T
HE
SOFT
black leather of a dragon rider’s uniform hugged the body like a second skin, and Nykin wriggled into the pants as fast as his damp legs would allow. He quickly tied the laces at the front before pulling on a cotton undershirt and then the matching jacket. His dirty clothes lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, and he hastily shoved them out of sight and tugged on his boots. Nykin cast a quick glance in the mirror and straightened out his uniform. His hair still hung around his shoulders, but at least it was clean now.

It took Nykin longer than he would have liked to reach the entrance to the palace. He imagined Ryneq’s annoyed face as he paced up and down, waiting for Nykin to arrive. When Nykin finally reached the great hall, he pulled open the heavy doors and slipped inside.

The doors opened silently enough, and Nykin managed to enter relatively unnoticed, but as he turned to push them closed, a horribly loud creak echoed around the large room. Everyone turned to stare at him—all his fellow dragon riders, a handful of soldiers from the Torserian army, an amused-looking Princess Cerylea, and a not-so-amused-looking King Ryneq.

The king glared at him for several long moments—Nykin tried hard not to blush or squirm under the intensity of it—before turning to address the lead rider. “As I was saying….” Nykin slunk to the back of the dragon riders and slid into line beside Selene and Jaken. Neither paid him any attention as the king carried on speaking. “Prince Morkryn and a contingent of his elven guard will arrive tomorrow to discuss the terms of our proposed treaty.”

Ryneq walked back over to stand beside his sister, pausing a moment to smile softly at her. He didn’t often openly show affection in front of his subjects, and it transformed his usually handsome but cold face into something warm and wonderful. Nykin felt his stomach flutter.

But when Ryneq looked back over at the people assembled before him, the hard edge was back. “Nysad and I, along with thirty of the guard, will meet them at the edge of the Forest of Hervath and provide an escort to the palace.” He leaned in to talk quietly with Nysad—the captain of the guard, and Ryneq’s second-in-command. Nysad nodded quickly before saluting and leading his men out of the room. “The armies of Rodeth and Athisi have been quiet of late, and our scouts report no movement near our borders.” Ryneq paced in front of the gathered riders, looking over them as he spoke. “This treaty is of paramount importance and we can’t afford to take any chances.”

The king’s gaze landed on Nykin, and his eyes narrowed for just the barest of moments before sweeping over to Selene beside him. Nykin watched his every move. Ryneq cut a formidable figure—taller than almost all his guard, with short, dark hair and broad shoulders. Nykin wished for the hundredth time that he would be noticed in return. The dragon riders were held in high regard by the people of Torsere, but to the king, he was just another member of the royal army, and nothing more.

“Eldin.” The lead rider snapped to attention as Ryneq spoke his name. “Take ten of your best riders and follow Prince Morkryn’s escort from the sky. I want you to watch for any signs of trouble from the lowlands.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“We leave the castle early. Have your riders ready to depart after breakfast.” Ryneq nodded once and turned toward Princess Cerylea, effectively dismissing everyone else.

“So,” Selene whispered as they filed out. “Do you think we’ll get to go?” She smiled, her eyes shining with excitement, and Nykin couldn’t help but return it.

“Maybe, if we’re lucky.” He really hoped they’d be chosen.

They all made their way back up to the Eyrie, since Eldin would no doubt want to go through the plans for tomorrow and pick out his riders. To be chosen for the king’s escort was a great honor, and it also meant Nykin would be able to get back out on Fimor. He needed to prove that he trusted his dragon, and the best way to do that would be to ride him. Nykin very much doubted Fimor would come now if he summoned him. It’d be at least a few days before he deigned to answer Nykin’s call. But if the order came from the king, then Fimor would be much more likely to respond.

They followed the rest of the riders up the steep stone steps and into the wide entrance to the Eyrie itself. Once inside, Eldin stopped and turned to face them all.

“It takes roughly a day and a half to reach the Forest of Hervath on horseback, so we’ll take turns to patrol and return to the Eyrie to rest. I’ll be the lead rider tomorrow, so that leaves nine places to fill. If I call your name, make your way to the storeroom and wait for me there.” Silence fell over the group of anxious riders as everyone waited to hear the list of names. “Selene,”—Nykin winced when she squealed in his ear before leaving for the storeroom—“Chaiss, Tirak, Hidor, Korad, Leyer, Nalec, Rakar, and…” He held his breath as he waited for Eldin to say the last name.
Please. Please. Please.
“… Nykin.”

“Yes!” Nykin hissed and headed for the storeroom to join the others.

T
HE
PLAN
for escorting the elven delegation was simple—circle the area and watch for signs of a possible attack from the lowlands. They had orders from Ryneq to deal with any incursions as they saw fit.

“Is everyone clear?” Eldin asked, looking around at the nine riders in front of him. A chorus of yeses replied. “Good. I suggest you connect with your dragons and then turn in for the night. We all need to be alert tomorrow.”

They filed out and made their way through to the landing caves. Nykin entered the same one he’d been in earlier that day and pulled back the sleeve on his jacket. He closed his eyes and rubbed his thumb over the mark in slow, measured circles. He didn’t actually need to touch his rider’s sigil, but the steady contact helped him focus his mind.

“Fimor?”

Just as Nykin expected, he didn’t get an answer straightaway.

“I know you’re still upset with me, but I need to talk to you. We’re to be part of the escort tomorrow when Ryneq goes to meet the elven delegation.”
Nykin knew that Fimor would never refuse an order from the king, especially where Ryneq’s safety was concerned. But he still made Nykin wait.

Finally, Nykin felt the fire triangle pulse, and his skin tingled with the warmth of their connection.

“Congratulations, Nykin. It is a great honor to be chosen to escort Prince Morkryn.”

“Yes, I know.”

“What are our orders?”

Nykin told him, word for word, what Eldin had said.

“Hmmm…. We will need to be vigilant in the skies and protect the king and his guests to the best of our ability. You know what I’m saying, Nykin, don’t you?”

Nykin sighed and leaned back against the wall of the cave.
“Yes. I need to trust you
.
”

“And I, you. You are my rider, bonded by blood, and I will do as you ask. But you must listen when I speak, for it will always be the truth. If I cannot trust you to do that, then our bond will be greatly weakened.”

“Really?”
Nykin stroked his mark, looking down at his wrist. The bond between rider and dragon was forged by blood and magic. It was how they worked so well together. To ride without it would be dangerous for both of them.
“I didn’t realize.”

“Magic can only do so much. My blood can heal you if you’re injured, Nykin, but only if our bond is strong. And to keep it strong, we must trust each other without hesitation.”

Dragon’s blood was part of the reason the lowland armies attacked Torsere. Dragons were magical creatures, and their blood was believed by some to cure all illness and disease and in some cases even prolong life. As far as Nykin was aware, a dragon’s blood would only heal its rider, and even then, he didn’t think it could bring anyone back from the dead.

“I will do better this time,”
Nykin said at last.
“I promise.”

“Very well. Good night, Nykin.”

The connection ended, and Nykin rubbed at his eyes. It had been a long day, and he was tired. As he made the long walk back to his home, Fimor’s words sat uncomfortably under his skin. He hated the thought of their bond being weakened, especially through his own doing. Nykin trusted Fimor, of course he did. He just had a hard time accepting the fact that he could be wrong sometimes.

Nykin readily accepted it was as arrogant as it sounded, and something he really needed to work on. If Eldin found out they couldn’t trust one another, he would have every right to replace Nykin as Fimor’s rider. A person only got one chance as a dragon rider—once the bond was broken, that was it. The very idea of losing his connection with Fimor made Nykin feel physically sick, and he resolved to keep his word. He would do better.

B
REAKFAST
WAS
served early in the palace next day, so the five riders accompanying Ryneq out first were up even earlier than usual. It took a decent amount of time to get the dragons down from the mountain and harnessed, and they needed to be ready by the time Ryneq and the palace guards were set to leave.