Dragon Trials (Return of the Darkening Book 1) (9 page)

I tried, closing my eyes just to shut him up. I could feel the warmth of her emanating upwards and the solidity of her form. Seb was right, it was quite reassuring.

“Now try to find her heartbeat,” he said.

I concentrated on the dragon underneath me. I almost could feel something—a distinct powerful, rhythmic shudder that went through her body and into mine, travelling up my legs. Her heartbeat seemed to match mine.

“Reach out to her, not with your hands but
inside,
” Seb was saying.

I opened my eyes a crack to see he was sitting with his hands not on the handles, but raised in the air, just letting his legs and Kalax do the flying.

He’s mad.
This is some weird navigator trick.

But when I closed my eyes, I could feel the warm, rhythmical beat of her heart filling me with strength. I breathed out, feeling as though I wasn’t actually myself but that the dragon and I were both part of one thing, our heartbeats matching perfectly and our breaths the same.

“You’re doing it,” Seb cried. I opened my eyes to realize that somewhere in my meditation, I had released my terrified grip. I sat with my arms held out wide, as if they were wings of my own to match hers.

Thea,
a voice said in my mind. It was a large, feminine voice, both playful and inquisitive.

“By the first…?” I slammed back into my body and seized the handles on my saddle once more.

“You heard her? You heard Kalax, didn’t you?” Seb was grinning and patting the side of the dragon.

I didn’t know what I had heard—and I didn’t
want
to know. It scared me a little.

“Not many people can do that. Some navigators, apparently. If they have a close connection.” Seb was still grinning. “I’ve been told I can teach you the connection, but you’ve got to let me do most of the guiding, as we don’t want to confuse poor Kalax with too many orders.”

I was content to remain firmly in my own body and let Seb have his ‘magic connection.’ At least for now. As we flew back to the enclosure, I could feel once again the solid
certainty
and reassuring presence of Kalax. I guessed she was amused.

We landed easily back on the platform. Kalax fluttered her wings, seeming a little off-balance as if she was trying to get the handle of landing with a harness and two riders. She gave a little sloppy hop, but Seb was cooing and purring to her.

“Don’t worry, you can do it. That’s great. Perfect,” he was saying.

I unclipped my belt and harness and jumped out of the saddle to land on firm wood.

I looked up to see Beris standing in front of the platform. “How was that then, oh mighty warrior?” He looked from me to Seb. The tone in Beris’ voice annoyed me and the weird connection I had felt with the dragon had upset me more than I had first thought. If I were a navigator, I would have that connection—except I wasn’t sure I really wanted another mind in mine. More confused feelings cluttered my head. I was proud to be a protector. But all my childish daydreams of being a rider had been of me as a navigator, because that was the only position I thought acceptable. Nothing was turning out how I had dreamed it to be.

“By the first breath of fire, what is your partner doing to that poor dragon? He can’t marry the thing, you know!” Beris said and grinned.

I winced. Beris was a fool, but he was right in one way. Seb was embarrassing—himself and me. This wasn’t a nursery, and dragons weren’t big, cuddly puppies. We were in the King’s service. We were in training to be strong warriors. My partner was humiliating me. But I only gave Beris a flat stare and crossed my arms.

Shaking his head, Beris waved a hand. “Some of us are going down the Troll’s Head later, but…” he nodded in Seb’s direction. “Don’t bring him.” He turned and left. Seb dismounted from Kalax, and he was chirruping at her like she was a pet parrot.

“What did you think, Thea? She’s great, isn’t she?” Seb asked.

“Yeah. Great. Look, thank you for that. Very
informative
.” I tried to insert a bit of stiff gravity to my voice. I had to be the best. We were the realm’s own defense, after all. “I’ll be going out tonight with the others, Beris and the rest. The place is for officers and nobles only, really. You…you may want to work on your manners before you even think of showing your face.” I wanted to make it clear he had embarrassed me—that he needed to learn how to act like a Dragon Rider.

Seb frowned. He opened and closed his mouth. His usually meek expression twisted, and guilt stabbed into my gut. Those feelings turned into a flash of annoyance that must have shown on my face—he had caused all of this by acting like a child in front of Beris.

Seb straightened. “I see. Of course.” He turned back to Kalax, patting her side and starting to unfix her harness straps.

It took everything in me, every bit of annoyance and remembering that Seb needed to learn. He had to learn.
He has to toughen up and remember that we’re soldiers.
“We’re not pet handlers,” I told him, keeping my voice gruff. Seb and Kalax both put their heads to one side as if I was the crazy one here.

Annoyed, I stalked off to get washed and changed. And I tried not to feel two stares stuck on my back.

It made me mad to watch Thea walk off with her nose in the air and Beris, Shakasta and the rest waiting for her. Noble brats. I was feeling hurt, I knew. After everything that I had tried to teach Thea, she was still doing her best to treat me like any other peasant.

Which I guess I am—a blacksmith’s kid in an expensive uniform.

A chirrup from behind me had me turning. Kalax had sensed my unease and was looking between me and the retreating back of Thea anxiously.
She doesn’t get it.
Looking at the confusion that rippled through the air and in the way that Kalax was holding her wings, I knew I needed to comfort her.

“It’s okay, Kalax.” Reaching out, I stroked the sensitive skin around her nose. “It’s okay. Me and Thea, we aren’t enemies, we just…we argue every now and again. We change and then get back to normal.”

I got a strong mental image of Jensen’s sinuous, slinky green dragon rearing up on its hind legs, hissing at me—or at Kalax—over a half-carcass of deer, growling in the back of his throat.

“Yes, Kalax, that’s right. It’s like that. Just friends falling out every now and again. No need to worry.” I hushed at her, taking the heavy bristled brush from the side of the platform to brush down her scales. She purred in the back of her gullet—a quiet, reassuring roar. After a few minutes of this, she was ready to return to the enclosure where she had a den in the side of the crater—a small cavern with a bed of straw.

“And you keep away from that green,” I warned her. She answered by coughing a small puff of flame into the air.

“Yes, I’m sure you would. Now go on with you.” I grinned, momentarily cheered up by the straightforward, cheerful way Kalax thought.

It was strange. Did the other navigators have this sort of connection with their dragons? Did Syl? Or Wil? Over the last few weeks, the more time that I spent with Kalax, the more it was like I could read her moods and thoughts. Only recently had I started seeing things I knew could only come from the dragon. She was communicating with me through the power of her mind. It felt right and natural, but I didn’t like to talk to anyone about it. Even Thea hadn’t understood.

I’ll have to try and hide any of my hurt feelings about Thea away from Kalax,
I thought, trudging back to the dormitory to get changed. It would only confuse the dragon, especially when she was learning how to sense Thea’s thoughts.

I flung off my training clothes and putting on the tunic I’d been given when I’d first arrived at the Academy. Over this, I put on a warm woolen cloak.

I headed for the kitchen, and then made for the main gates and the path that wound down the mountain and into the city.

*

If Thea was going to head out of the Academy, I wasn’t going to stay there alone. The city appeared strange to my eyes after spending so much time at the Academy. It seemed both bigger from the street—crowded, noisy and full of people. Yet also much, much smaller. I remember looking down as I soared over it on Kalax’s broad back and wondering how all those people were stuffed into such a little space.

The city of Torvald had been built in a series of semi-circular layers, extending up and down the mountain of Hammal. My old district—one of the poorest—stood almost at the very bottom, near the bridge and the gate where the woodsmen entered the city. There were very few flat areas in the city, aside from inside the buildings. All the cobbled streets sloped downward, twisting and turning as they cut their way around the land.

All the buildings had been made of stone. More stones formed the gates and walls, and the mountain streams had been cut and channeled into fountains and decorative parks. The city was highly segmented with different districts walled off from each other. The nobles and the palace lived at the highest end of the city, while those in trades and the guild-houses stood below them, and then more markets below that.

And Mongers Lane right over there at the bottom.

I crossed the main avenues, avoiding the crowds of people who were out in the early evening. Mostly they were revelers, but a few of the city watch walked the streets with their lanterns and red cloaks.

The streets grew narrower and more crowded as I made my way to Mongers Lane. A few people sat outside their homes and businesses on small benches, puffing on their pipes and enjoying the evening air. There was still a touch of warmth from the day, but the stars were coming out and I could tell it would be chilly later. Under my arm, I carried a basket of stuffed loaves, a half roll of cheese and a pot of the pickled vegetables that I knew my mom had always liked. The cook at the Academy, Margaret, had made up the basket for me when I’d told her I was heading home for the evening. I had asked for just a little something for myself. Like me, she was from the poorer parts of the city. She knew what a difference a bit of fine food could make, so she sent me on my way with a feast to share.

I passed in front of the Orc’s Breath, one of the taverns at the head of the lane. My father frequented the place. I ducked past it, hearing the noise of raucous singing and laughter spilling through the open door.

Moving too fast, I tripped on the cobbles, and just managing to put my hand out to catch myself before the basket got smashed. The roll of cheese, however, bounced out of the basket and down one of the alleys. Quickly, I ran after it, picking it up just as I heard voices from two men who had stepped out of the Orc’s Breath. They were dressed in the heavy leather jerkins and breeches of woodsmen, and they spoke with the rough accent of men from the north.

“…war? Nah, mate, you must be mad.”

“No—I tell you, something is brewing up there in the north, something bad. I’ve men now who won’t go into the northern woods to cut. Cursed they call it. They come back last time out with stories of starting to forget paths they’ve walked since they were boys.”

The two men weren’t drunk. I knew that from years of avoiding a loud, drunken and quick-tempered father. I started to turn away, but then the first man said, “Dragons. We got the Dragon Riders. No one will raise a sword against Torvald because of them.”

“This is something else. It’s not just my own lads talking. I heard it from a merchant who travels up and down the Leviathan Mountains. He meets traders from all over, even from beyond the mountains, coming over the sea. He says some of the tribes up that way are telling tales of whole villages disappearing, people vanishing. Folks are moving away from danger and bringing the stories with them. It’s the Darkening come back, some say.”

I moved closer to hear more.

The second man gave a snort. “Tall tales, those old legends. Just old, scare-stories that travelers tell each other to keep the nights interesting. Villages vanishing, my eye. You’re letting your lads lead you by the nose because they don’t want to work—that’s all. Come on, let’s find another drink or two.” Their voices faded as they headed down the lane.

War?
Were we going to war? I repacked the basket and hurried to my old house. I knew my father would be out at one of the taverns, so I could have a few pleasant hours with my step-mother and sister if she was to home. I’d be able to give them a good meal and tell them about the Academy.

But my mind wouldn’t leave the tricky subject of war alone. Torvald hadn’t been involved in a war for generations. And what of this talk of the Darkening? I’d heard some mention of such a thing—a child’s story. But my father didn’t hold with fanciful tales and the like. If he’d ever caught me so much as trying to listen to one of the old tales, told at the taverns or under the trees on a summer eve, he’d always clipped my ear and dragged me home. So maybe this was just travelers’ tales. After all, the Dragon Riders were famous throughout the known realms. No one dared raise their armies against us.

But what if that is all going to change?
My heart was troubled despite the warm welcome I had received at home.

The next day, I returned the basket to the Academy kitchens and told Margaret just how much my step-mother and sister had liked her food. She waved me out of her domain with a cloth, telling me not to talk about it. “Don’t want folk to think they’ll all get free meals,” she said, her voice cross.

The sun hadn’t crested the palisade walls yet, but I could hear the early-morning croak of waking dragons from the enclosure. It was still early, a bright, sunny day with clear, blue skies above. I still had a little time before cadet training began and decided to walk up to the walls to look down on the enclosure and try and spot Kalax.

I was walking over when I heard a voice call my name. “Seb! Seb!” I turned to see Beris, huffing toward me, his hair still wet from his morning bath.

“Beris?” I gave him a nod and stiffened. I didn’t have any problem with him, but I eyed him warily. I did not want to be the butt of some stupid joke.

“Sebastian, Thea she said that she wanted to go over some training or another with you, out by Hammal Lake. I meant to tell you last night, but you know, I must have forgot.”

Because you were drunk when you got back, or maybe just didn’t bother to tell me so I would be late.

“Hammal Lake? It’s a bit of a way, isn’t it? We’ve got flight practice in an hour.” The cold-water lake was on the other side of the mountain, just lower than the peak itself where it caught the water from several small mountain streams before diverting it down into the city below. It was a nice, peaceful spot and the dragons occasionally fished the lake.

“Yeah—I know, crazy—but there’s horses at the stables, you can always borrow one and get out there. She’ll be waiting,” Beris said, turning to walk away from me.

I didn’t trust Beris, but I also knew it would be like Thea to be up early to try and do something no one else had done. Just to be sure, I went to look for her and couldn’t find any sign of her at the Academy. If I hurried now, I could just make it to the lake and back. I wasn’t a very good rider, but the ponies were all study and easy to ride. Making my way over to the stables, I checked out a small white and tan pony by the name of Bill. The tough little mountain ponies were kept for the moving of luggage and supplies to the Academy. Fixing Bill up with a saddle, I rode out of the front gates as fast as I dared. These little mountain ponies didn’t gallop as fast as the war stallions the knights of Torvald rode, but they were quicker and much more agile on the mountain paths.

The path to Hammal Lake was well-trod. It didn’t take long before I crested the high ridge of the mountain. The clear blue waters of the lake glittered below, its shores dotted with shrubby hawthorn and pine trees.

The air was still cold, so I pulled my cloak tighter around me and urged the pony a little faster as we made our way back down the slope of boulders and ravines on the other side of the crest. I heard the cry of a kestrel flying over the bits of wild land beyond.

This place was beautiful and I could see why Thea might want to come out here on a morning such as this.
I pulled in a breath, reveling in the fresh air and the feel of the wind against my hair. As I neared the path to the lakeside, I slowed Bill and started to search for signs of Thea and her pony.

“Thea?” I called out. My voice bounced off the high walls of a cliff, coming back to me muted and ghostly. I swung off the pony to climb a large bolder. From there I’d be able to see the entire lake shore. Bill put his head down to explore a bit of tough meadow grass. I couldn’t see any sign of anyone being near—no tracks or anything. I started to wonder if she might have fallen in. A sudden twist tightened my stomach. Thea was a good swimmer, but the waters of Hammal Lake were deep and icy cold.

I climbed up higher, hoping to get some glimpse. I was starting to get worried as I crested the very top of the boulders and looked around.

“Thea? Thea!” The only answer was the caw of crows and the bleat of a few adventurous mountain goats.

A suspicion started to grow. Had I got here too late? Had she already gone back to the Academy?

I decided to leave. If fitness-obsessed Agathea Flamma wanted to train out here, she could. I was going back. But when I returned to the spot where the pony had been, he wasn’t there.

The sudden truth hit me.

Beris.

He’d followed me out here, stole my pony and left me abandoned. It was some cruel trick because he disliked how I’d beaten him in the selection trials.

I looked up at the ridge, seeing the sun flare and glare over it. It would take me hours to get back to the Academy on foot. I would well and truly be late for flight practice. Thea wouldn’t be able to ride Kalax without a second, and she would be grounded until I got back. And I might well be punished for this.

I sighed. Resentment knotted in my stomach. Head down, I started up the trail back to the Academy.