by S. T. Bende
Axel mimed an uppercut to Ingrid’s throat. Her nostrils flared as he stepped into her space.
“Pop the throat—a blow to the airpipe will debilitate an opponent long enough for you to regroup and strike one more time.” Axel slowly spun clockwise, gripping his hilt with both hands and stopping his sword a few inches from Ingrid’s knee. “I like to hit here, but a well-angled blow to the flesh between the ribs and the hips can be equally effective.”
“Anything else?” Ingrid gritted.
“Sweetheart, that’s only the beginning.” Axel winked. “But since you’re still using the wrong grip, even after I showed you the right one, why don’t we go back to the basics? Again.”
An infuriated growl tore from Ingrid’s throat, but she allowed Axel to reposition her hands and demonstrate the angles of striking.
“Enjoying yourself?”
I jumped. When did Erik get there? “Actually, I am. Immensely.”
“Mmm. Well, you should stop staring and start fighting. Your training partner needs the practice.” Erik jutted his chin at Zaan.
“Hey,” Zaan protested.
Erik raised a brow. “Am I wrong?”
“No,” Zaan admitted. He turned to Vidia. “Sorry I didn’t get you the right sword.”
“Sorry I nearly cut off your arm.” Vidia winced.
Zaan chuckled. “Erik’s one of the best fighters we have. He’ll teach you far better than I could.”
“I appreciate your trying.” Vidia shook Zaan’s hand, then turned to Erik. “Just so you know, I’m horrible at this. If you value your arms, stand clear.”
“I’m sure I’ve had worse.” Erik’s easy grin sent a pulse of heat to my heart. The heat promptly dissipated when he opened his mouth and said, “You should have been here the first time I saw Saga with a sword. Good gods, the woman was a mess.”
“Hey!” I pointed my blade at Erik’s perfect, irritating face. “For your information, I am not now, nor have I ever been, a mess. I just . . . happen to be better with a bow than I am with a blade.”
“Which you’ve worked hard to rectify. Just a few months later, and you’re a force to be reckoned with.” Erik smiled. “But your friend over there . . .”
“I know. She’s brilliant.” I beamed as Ingrid executed a perfect block, sending Axel’s sword to the ground. She was truly in her element.
“I think my strengths lie elsewhere,” Vidia said honestly.
“That may be the case. But everyone in Valkyris carries their weight—meaning you need to be able to defend yourself at a minimum.” Erik crossed to Vidia. “You don’t have to be our most brilliant fighter, but you do need to know how to keep yourself safe. Why don’t we go over the basics with the sword, and then we’ll move on to hand-to-hand defenses? Those have more practical applications, anyhow.”
Vidia nodded. She followed Erik to a corner of the room, skirting around Professor Grieg as he demonstrated what looked like some kind of kickboxing sequence. Since this was an upper-level combat course, multiple disciplines were covered during the course of a single unit. During my time in the class, we’d learned swords, daggers, hand-to-hand combat, and how to strangle an opponent with a shockingly short piece of rope. Soon we’d tackle axe-throwing, and archery—though I was already enrolled in twice-weekly lessons for that. This place was going to make a fighter out of me if it was the last thing they did. And, the way my muscles ached daily, it might be the last thing I did.
“Ready to get to work?” Zaan’s easy tenor made me look up.
“Always.” I sighed. For a healing student, Zaan was ridiculously fierce with a sword. “Go easy on me, okay? I’m tired today.”
“Erik will kill me if I go easy on you. You know that.” Zaan shook his head.
“I know.” I sighed again. “Think you can fake it, just a little?”
Zaan’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll try. Come on, Saga. Blade up, and give me hell.”
A smile tugged at my lips. It was never a dull moment.
For the next hour, I threw myself into my training, sparring with Zaan until my arms trembled with exhaustion. When Professor Grieg informed us time was up, we shook hands, hung up our swords, and toweled the sweat from our faces. I’d just dropped to the floor to stretch my aching legs when Axel and Erik appeared above me.
“What now?” I groaned.
“You didn’t forget.” Erik frowned.
“Forget what?” I reached forward and touched my toes. The stretch burned in the best possible way.
“Forget our lesson.” Amusement peppered Axel’s tone.
“Oh. Skit,” I swore.
“Get up, Saga.” Axel grinned. “It’s time to ride your first dragon.”
Never a dull moment. Ever.
Chapter 6
THE DRAGONS WERE MASSIVE.
I’d known this, but I’d never been closer than a few hundred feet from one. Now, I stood in the doorway of the Dragehus—a massive stone structure that housed about a dozen fully-grown dragons and a handful of juveniles. Each of the creatures had its own pen, except for the juveniles, who were kept together. Long necks poked over enormous stalls, outfitted with some älva-gifted enchantment that prevented the dragons from jumping over the doors and flying free. But even knowing they were safely ensconced within their designated areas, I was reluctant to actually step inside of the building. Those creatures were huge. Also, they were dragons.
“Saga.” Axel frowned. “You have to go inside.”
“Nuh-uh.” I shook my head. “Not happening.”
“Since when are you afraid of dragons?” Erik asked.
“Uh, since always. They’re dragons.”
“Yes.” Erik’s brow furrowed. “And?”
“And they can eat us. The defense rests.” I folded my arms.
“You’re feeling defensive?” Confusion painted Axel’s face.
Right. No judicial branch here. “I’m just saying those things can eat me, and I’m feeling pretty good standing here out of chomping range, so . . .”
“Get inside.” Axel shoved me. Hard.
I stumbled into the Dragehus with an irate, “Hey!”
“They’re just dragons.” Axel and Erik stepped behind me, thwarting my plan to bolt out the door. “And they’re loyal to Valkyris, so you have nothing to worry about.”
I snuck a peek at the long-necked, pointy-fanged reptiles now poking their heads out of their stalls. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to punch Axel in the face and run screaming from the building.
“Saga?” Erik placed a hand on the small of my back. “You breathing?”
“Yup.” I gulped in air, drawing strength from the familiar palm against my spine.
“We wouldn’t ask you to do this if it weren’t necessary,” Erik reminded me.
“I know.” The tribe needed archers, and I was one of the best we had—or, I would be, once I got myself airborne. A grounded assassin wasn’t nearly as effective as one who could swoop in on a fire-breathing beast.
Oh, God. A fire. Breathing. Beast.
Breathe, remember? Erik’s not going to let anything happen to me.
I hope.
“Okay.” I drew my shoulders back, looked Erik in the eye, and nodded. “Let’s do this.”
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“Quick, before I change my mind.”
“All right. Axel?” Erik slid his hand from my back and stepped up to one of the stalls. A massive green head with blue horns poked over the top, and my clearly insane boyfriend reached up to stroke the dragon’s scales.
Bless.
“We call the team on this side of the Dragehus the Old Guard.” Axel pointed to the stalls on the left. “They were the first dragons gifted to us by Asgard, and they’ve populated our flock ever since. Their children are in these stalls.” He walked to the right side of the barn, reaching up to stroke the purple-scaled neck of a dragon who snorted in greeting. “We call these guys the New Guard, and though they’re a bi
t more spirited than their parents, they’re still well-trained and take direction when needed. Now these guys . . .” Axel walked to the far end of the Dragehus. “In these pens, on the right? They’re too young to be tame. They’re just a few months old, and they’re basically like a litter of puppies—cute, overenthusiastic, and have no idea of their own strength. Want to see them?”
“Will any of the other dragons breathe fire on me for going near their babies?”
“Saga, please.” Axel sighed. “You’re better than this.”
“They’ve never met me before! And where I come from, we’re taught to respect the mama-bear instinct.”
“Dragons are intuitive.” Erik stepped to my side and laced his fingers through mine. “They can sense who’s a part of our family. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Right.” I held tight to Erik’s hand. “If you say so.”
Erik leaned down to whisper in my ear. “You’ve got this.” Then he tugged me gently forward.
I straightened my spine before following him down the long corridor between the stalls. Red, green, and purple heads popped over the doors, their owners studying me curiously as I moved. But nobody snorted fire at me, or tried to eat me as I passed.
Thank God.
“Okay.” I exhaled. “Where are the babies?”
“In here.” Axel opened a gate and stepped into one of the pens. Erik and I slipped in behind him, and he latched the door shut before dropping to his knees. Four spaniel-sized dragons scampered into his outstretched arms, climbing over each other to claim what appeared to be the coveted spot on his shoulder. “Saga, meet the Littles. Flame, Fang, Borg and Marta.”
“Marta?” One of these names was not like the others.
“I named her after my grandmother. She has her eyes.” Axel picked up the smallest dragon and tickled her belly. She blinked up at him, revealing pale, blue eyes before letting out a cat-like mew. Aw!
“Littles, this is Saga. Play nice. Try not to set her on fire.” Axel winked at me.
“Ha. Ha.” I turned my head to Erik. “They can’t do that, right?”
“Not yet,” he confirmed. “When they’re around a year old, it’ll be something to watch for. The juveniles across the aisle did some damage to one of the trainers when they first flamed. But they’ve been taught to manage it.”
Awesome.
I lowered myself onto the ground and held out my palm. One of the dragons scampered out of Axel’s reach and came over to me. It sniffed my hand before rubbing its neck against my knee and climbing into my lap.
Oh my God. This is the cutest thing ever.
“Borg likes you.” Erik smiled. “She’s the picky one—well played.”
“Borg.” I stroked her neck, marveling at the slick, scaly texture beneath my fingertips. She felt like I imagined a fish might feel, but less slimy. And a lot more cute.
“Borg’s mother is one of the most aggressive of the New Guard. She’s more spirited than the others, but since her daughter likes you, she might respond to you, too.” Axel turned to Erik. “What do you think? Should we start Saga on Deathknell?”
What the actual hell?
“No. Absolutely not. I’d like to start on one named Fluffy, please. Or maybe Elliot. I could totally ride an Elliot.”
“What kind of dragon names are those?” Erik frowned.
Right. No context here.
Borg turned a tight circle in my lap, curled up, and began snoring. She was so freaking cute.
“It’s settled.” Axel grinned at the sleeping dragon. “Deathknell’s in the next pen—she’s probably already picked up on the connection Borg has with Saga. We’ll start off there.”
“Is this negotiable?” I squeaked.
“Everything’s negotiable,” Erik said quietly. “But I’d trust Axel’s recommendation. He knows the dragons, but more importantly, he wants you to win. As commander of the Airborne Assassins, he’s got the most to gain from your success at this.”
When he puts it like that . . .
“Fine. I’ll try.” I stroked the feather-light wings of the dragon in my lap. “But you’d better make sure I don’t get charred. Or bucked. Or dropped from a mile up. Or—”
“Are you quite finished?” Axel arched his brow. “We’ve only got about twenty minutes of daylight left.”
“And then we can quit?” A short lesson would be perfect. Less time to die.
“No.” Axel frowned. “It’s a full moon. We can go all night if you want to.”
Great.
“But it gets considerably colder after dark, and the dragons become moodier.”
Double great.
“Then let’s get cracking.” I reluctantly removed the sleeping dragon from my lap and stood. Winter nights in Valkyris were no joke. If I was going to do this, I wanted to do it before the temperature dropped below freezing.
Though I supposed Deathknell could always use her fire breath to warm my frostbitten extremities.
Gulp.
Ten minutes later, I stood in the field behind the Dragehus, my cloak tight around my shoulders and a thick pair of mittens on my hands. A red-scaled dragon wearing a complicated-looking saddle and a thin set of reins stamped the snow in front of me. With her yellow eyes, pronounced brow, and mace-like tail, Deathknell was no joke. She’d already snorted a half-dozen fireballs—none aimed at me, thankfully—and appeared to be highly irritated at being out in the snow at dusk. You and me both, sister.
“We’re going to ride tandem today,” Axel explained. “I never send a new rider out alone. The first time you’re in the air, your reflexes tend to seize and you forget everything.”
“Like skydiving,” I muttered. Olivia and I had tried it when we’d graduated from high school. Thank God the place we’d gone had the tandem rule for first-timers—when the instructor signaled for me to pull the rip cord, I’d been too busy trying to remember to breathe to do anything else. Thankfully, he’d done it for the both of us—and Olivia had teased me the entire drive home.
“I’m going to climb up first. Erik, help Saga after me?” Axel set a foot in the stirrup and launched himself onto Deathknell’s back. She turned her long neck to study him curiously, then went back to stamping the ground.
“You’re up,” Axel said.
“We’re not going to let anything happen to you,” Erik murmured. He placed his hands on my hips and pulled me against him. I knew he was just preparing to lift me, but my pulse skyrocketed all the same. Mmm . . .
“On three,” Erik said. He counted down before raising me just enough that I could slip my foot in the stirrup. From there, I climbed uneasily into the spot in front of Axel. When I was settled, the dragon turned again. Her nostrils flared as she stared at me.
“Hey there, uh, Deathknell. I’m Saga.” I raised a tentative hand. “Your kid likes me, so we’re good, right?”
Deathknell’s eyes narrowed, and my heart stalled.
“Axel,” I whispered. “What’s she doing?”
“She’s scanning you,” he whispered back. “They do it with every new rider. Let her get a read on you, and we’ll take off in a minute.”
I held myself very still, trying not to panic at the unblinking reptilian eyes staring me down. After what seemed an eternity, Deathknell turned away and resumed her stamping.
Thank you, God.
“That’s settled. Erik, I promise I’ll take care of Saga.” Axel wrapped his right hand around my waist, gripped the reins in his left, and gave a loud “Haw!”
What the hell did haw mean?
“Oh my God!” I shrieked as Deathknell’s stamping gave way to a run. I flattened myself against the saddle, holding tight to the slippery red scales of the dragon’s torso as she launched herself from the ground. Leathery wings gave mighty flaps as Deathknell flew high above Valkyris. It had only been a second, and already we were fifty feet up. A hundred. Two hundred. Holy skit, how high were we going to go?
“Sit up, Saga,” Axel shouted. “It’s
hard to hold you like this.”
“I don’t want to sit up! I want to get down!”
Axel clucked his tongue. “You’re better than this,” he reminded me.
If we weren’t hundreds of feet in the air, I’d have turned around and punched him.
Very reluctantly, I pried myself off the dragon’s back and gripped the front of the saddle. Axel’s grip on my waist tightened, and I permitted myself one brief look at the ground. With the full moon illuminating the darkening sky, one thing was absolutely certain.
That ground was really far away.
“How do you tell her where to go?” I called over my shoulder.
“The dragons take verbal as well as physical commands. Deathknell responds best to verbal—she doesn’t like being kicked.”
“Why would she?”
“Exactly. Some of the males prefer the physical cues, which are pretty much what you’d expect them to be—two kicks to take off, one to speed up, pull the right rein to angle right, the left to go left. Pull straight back on the reins to land. If you’re riding bareback—”
“Why the hell would I be riding bareback?”
“We don’t always have time to saddle up.” Axel directed Deathknell to the right, looping us slowly toward the mountain range. “And if that’s the case, the rein cueing is moot. In that instance, the takeoff and speed cues are the same, but you’ll steer using your heels—a sharp dig with the right to turn right, the left to turn left.”
“I think I can remember most of that. But the verbal cues—what are—oh, Lord.” My fingers dug into the saddle as Deathknell dropped fifty feet with one flap of her wings. This was simultaneously the most exhilarating and terrifying roller-coaster I’d ever been on.
“Høyre!” Axel shouted, and Deathknell drove to the right. “Venstre!” he shouted again, and Deathknell shifted her trajectory to the left. He leaned forward so his face was aligned with mine. “Use haw for takeoff and bakke to land. Why don’t you give it a try?”
Sure. I’d command the flying dragon for us, no worries.
“Um . . . høyre?” I called.
Nothing happened.