Dragon Master (17 page)

As the sun started setting, I picked myself off the ground and found my way back to the academy. There was some commotion going on and I thought at first that I’d gotten at least one of my wishes, that a dragon had been born already and teams were being assigned to go after it. Maybe Bayrd would be able to persuade Master Walker to let us be one of the first teams to go since we were the only team with any experience. But it wasn’t that kind of commotion, I wasn’t getting my wish.

There was a large family gathered in the center of the training grounds, and I recognized them as Warley’s family. He had five siblings, and they were all standing together with their hands tied in front of them. I saw his one sister, and realized that she was my age. With her dark skin and short cropped black hair falling over her eyes, it seemed that she was trying to disappear into the shadows. She was the one Warley had told us about, the one he’d been switched with, however that worked. I didn’t want to watch whatever was going to happen, so I tried to escape toward the keep, but Gable saw me and called me over. I didn’t have the energy to ignore him.

“… Found guilty of knowingly withholding information about this impostor serving as a false Stone Soul in the …”

The Rector, dressed in his most formal gray robes, was reading in a monotone voice from a stack of parchment in front of him. I was glad to see that he appeared to be almost to the bottom of the stack. It was clear that everyone had been found guilty, that they were being sentenced individually to the same fate. Their belongings would be confiscated and sold to be paid back to the academy and they would be employed as servants in Rægena, keeping no earnings. They would probably spend the rest of their lives this way. Was that worth it? Did they really understand the risks they were taking when they sent Warley here under false pretenses?

I stood in a daze through the proceedings, trying not to look at the family. At one moment I did look up, and I saw Warley staring back at me. I felt guilty that he’d seen me standing in the crowd, but he gave me a nod. It was a nod like the one he’d given me when I’d beaten him in that skirmish. I understood. He was thanking me for raising my sword to defend him from Bayrd’s fury, for saving his life. Some life it was going to be.

I kept thinking about everything that evening as I ate my roast in the mess hall. At least Daija wasn’t pretending to be a Stone Soul, she was just training on her own. She was planning to risk only her own life. Well, to throw her own life away. Unless she was somehow right, but how was that even possible? I decided that the next day I would visit the study after all, talk to Magnilda about it. I’d want to get there early, before Boe. I still wasn’t ready to talk to him about everything that had happened. He’d been there, but he hadn’t stood up for me. He’d just let Daija say that he shouldn’t even be my friend. And then he’d left me, hadn’t he? Well, he’d taken Laciann out of the room, and I supposed I was grateful for that, but I doubted he’d done it for me. I wasn’t sure how late he’d stayed out with her, I had surprised myself by falling asleep quickly and not waking again until the next morning.

When I felt like I had enough food in my system, I left the mess and went straight to my bunk and hoped I could fall asleep quickly once again.

***

Boe shook me awake early the next morning.

“Are you doing okay?”

I struggled to sit up in bed and found that I was still wearing my full armor. I wiped at my puffy eyes and didn’t answer the question.

“Why don’t we see if there’s anything we can eat in the mess hall,” he suggested.

I nodded my head and then slumped back into bed.

He shook me again. “Go on, get up, I’ll meet you right outside.”

I stretched and got out of bed, changed clothes and then joined Boe outside the bunk. The chill in the air belied the season.

“Want to race to the mess?” Boe asked. Then he took off running, and I chased a half step behind him. The crisp morning sun washing over me as I ran felt refreshing. Plus, I had to admit, it felt good that Boe and I seemed to be speaking again.

The doors to the mess were locked, but Boe led me around to the back kitchen entrance and we walked in to the smells and sounds of a half dozen cooks preparing breakfast for the keep. There were recently picked starberries being sliced in fourths, large bowls of batter being mixed, chefs squeezing some kind of cream into delicate pastries, and piles of freshly baked bread stacked in baskets. Some of the chefs smiled and nodded at us as we each grabbed a loaf of bread. Boe quickly scooped a handful of whole starberries before a protesting chef could stop him. We had huge smiles on our faces as we went running out of the kitchen, Boe clutching his food expertly to his chest to prevent any berries from spilling onto the ground.

There was a morning bustle within the keep that I couldn’t remember ever seeing before. Wizards and chamber maids walked briskly past each other in a routine that must go on every morning as we were sleeping or having early morning training. There was a life and an energy to the old stone keep that furthered my sense of reinvigoration. Even the study seemed transformed—light streamed in effortlessly through the windows and poured over the books, making them look inviting, full of promise. We passed the desk where I’d tried to write to Daija before and I suddenly knew that I would try again, and that this time I would succeed.

“I have some things I need to take care of,” I told Boe, and he looked knowingly at the desk, then nodded at me.

“Meet us down in the study when you can,” he said, and tossed me a starberry. I grabbed it out of the air and took a bite. The sweet and sticky juices stained my lips and melted as they passed through my mouth.

Yes, today was going to be a good day.

***

This time, I grabbed only a single sheet of parchment paper and didn’t sit down at the desk until I had a reasonable idea about what I was going to write. I drew letters in the air with an imaginary quill and imagined the words coming out looking neat, or at least legible. Then I sat down, took a large bite out of the warm bread loaf, and I wrote.

“Dear Daija,” I began, and the words came through me and onto the page easily after that. They were awkward words, but they were the best I had, and I hoped that she would be able to understand me through them.

I explained about the prize ticket and being too late to get the tapestry for her. I told her I wished we had more time together while the festival lasted, and I apologized that I was too late getting back to say goodbye. Then I explained about trying to write to her before, how I had trouble finding words for what I was feeling. I tried to write about the accident, and told her what few details about it I knew, and explained about waking up weeks later at my parents’ house. Then about the rumors of the dragon and how I thought it meant I would get a chance to see her in Chialaa Valley, and how nothing turned out how I wanted it to. I wrote that I was happy to see her, and that I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t at all happy to see me, but that I now knew. I apologized that I didn’t explain everything as soon as I saw her. I had a lot to apologize for, and I wasn’t yet done. When I got to the last part of my letter, I had more trouble finding the right words. I wanted to be honest, and I wanted to be understanding. The problem was that I wasn’t completely sure of my feelings yet, but as I wrote to Daija I believed what I was writing. I told her that I decided it was great that she was training to fight dragons, that I understood that the only way we could know if everyone is right about only men being Dragon Masters was for someone to try to prove them wrong. I explained how I cared about her and worried about seeing her hurt or killed, but how I had seen her with her dad and seen how good she was. I asked her to forgive me this one more time, and said that I wished we could have a duel and find out which of us was better with a sword. I finished by imploring her not to hate me anymore, but that I understood now why she had hated me.

I refused to read back over the letter after writing it, and instead quickly signed it, dated it, then held it up to the sunlight to help the ink dry more quickly. When I felt it was properly dried, I carefully folded the parchment, wrote Daija’s name and location on the outside, and took it into the Rector’s vestibule to have it sealed and assigned for the next delivery. I was filled with nervous excitement as I handed the letter over to one of the Rector’s attendants and so I ran rather than walked back to the study to join Boe with Magnilda.

For the first time that I could remember, I felt free from any burdens.

We received word about the first Dragonbirth sixteen days into Flame. Every Stone Soul in my class gathered in the training grounds when word got around about the courier who had arrived proclaiming the Dragonbirth. Master Walker came out to meet us dressed in his full dragon slayer’s armor: a glowing, impressive display of etched flames and embossed patterns done in shades of red and silver with golden accents. I’d last seen this outfit five years ago, and I’d forgotten how impressive it was. I wanted one.

“The first dragon of the year has been born at last, south of Aericaia, along the eastern peninsula,” the Dragon Master announced in an even voice.

I felt a rush of relief. There was basically no chance that the dragon could get to either my family or Boe’s without having to get past Stone Soul teams from Rægena. In fact, the Dragonbirth was just on the other side of the impassable Paraxin Mountains. Well, the mountains were impassable to us, though I supposed a dragon could likely fly over them with minimal worry. That probably meant that many of us would remain in Rægena to provide protection in case the dragon did come by that route.

Master Walker wasted no time in giving out the first assignment. “Sagan, take your team north through the forest to the foothills of Mount Rae. Head around the Paraxins to Aericaia and then south along the coast.”

I looked at Irvin and saw that he was practically hyperventilating. I couldn’t tell whether it came from the honor of being given the first dragon quest assignment, the excitement of our first Dragonbirth, fear of what could come next, or some combination of the three. It had been different for me in my first dragon quest. Of course that hadn’t been a dragon quest at all, and it had been a duty that our team had volunteered for.

“Wyatt,” the Dragon Master gave out another assignment, “take your team south around the Paraxins then up the southeastern coast. One of your teams,” he added, addressing both teams now, “should meet up with the dragon before you meet up with each other. If you’re lucky, you’ll meet up with the dragon and each other at the same time and can join forces. Remember your training. Work as a team. Bring back the dragon’s heart.”

Irvin’s body was still rising and falling rapidly with his breathing. Calvin, the other dragon quest leader, was nodding vigorously.

“Well, go,” Walker said to them, and with a wave of his arm the two teams ran to gather their readied supplies, collect their horses, and begin their dragon quests. I joined in the chorus of those of us remaining who were yelling out our encouragement to them. We were envious. We were relieved. We were on edge. There was a dragon in the Realm.

***

While we continued to wait for reports of the second Dragonbirth, Boe insisted that I spend time with him in the study to cram as much Dragonlore as possible into my head, just in case any small detail could hold the key to defeating a dragon in battle. In turn, I made Boe spend time with the rest of the team in the training grounds, practicing, for much the same reason. We made a routine of rising early and bringing food for ourselves and for Magnilda and Sterling to the secret study, and then in the afternoons we would train for a few hours before taking supper and retiring to the bunk. There was plenty that we wanted to accomplish, but we also wanted to ensure that we got a good amount of rest.

“So have there been any really unusual Dragon Masters?” I asked on the twenty-seventh day of Flame. I’d been trying to get around to the topic of women Stone Souls and why there weren’t any, but I didn’t want to bring up the subject directly with Boe always around. I knew that he’d start talking about different perspectives and all this confusing unrelated stuff, and I just wanted a straight answer. And it wasn’t like Magnilda was great about giving straight answers, but maybe she would give me the answer I was looking for if I just asked the right “wrong” question.

“Oh, plenty,” Magnilda answered enthusiastically, “there was a Master named Richards in 225 who was born with a stump of a tail. He kept its existence hidden his whole life fearing that people would think he was some kind of half dragon. After he slayed both dragons born that year just one week apart, he announced the existence of his tail. So his kingdom rose up in revolt against him and he was killed. His fears were right, you see.”

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“Oh, no, absolutely a true story,” Magnilda said, and then she started toward a bookshelf to go find the records of the incident for me to read for myself. I should have known better.

“No, no,” I said, “that’s fine, I believe you. It just seems so wrong.”

“Yes, I agree,” she told me. “One thing you have to understand about people, they love their heroes but they love their safe traditions even more.”

“So that’s why you still haven’t told anyone about the Dragonborn?” I asked.

This caught Magnilda by surprise, but she took it in stride. “So Boe’s been telling you some stories of his own?”

“It was just something that came up, back when we were on the dragon quest,” Boe blurted out as quickly as he could.

Magnilda nodded. “Yes, I suppose you had a right to know there could be a reason for a dragon to be out wandering Lævena in Tephria even though all the dragons were supposed to be dead.”

“Tephria?” I asked. I wasn’t familiar with the term.

“Oh, well I suppose you call it ‘Early Flame’ then, don’t you? Just another name for the same thing. People love giving many names to the same thing.”