“Why is he so loud?” I shouted.
“It’s the speed saddle,” replied Phoenix. “Most saddles draw from the dragon’s innate magic to muffle sounds and protect from the elements. This particular type doesn’t, as we need to conserve a rapier red’s power for the essentials to maintain maximum speed.”
A wave of nausea crashed against the back of my throat, making every muscle clench. I gulped lungfuls of air to stave it off, but the effort was futile. I had to get this wretched dragon to stop ascending. Clenching my teeth, I tightened my grip on the reigns, drawing them to my chest.
Rubens tilted forward, so his body was now parallel to the mountain’s flat top. He spread out his disproportionately wide wings and glided above the winds.
The brief respite gave me the opportunity to view the mountain’s surface. It was much larger than I had expected, taking up more space than the Magical Militia compound and the palace combined. At the east of the plateau was a stone courtyard, large enough to accommodate half a dozen dragons. This was where Roseate had landed the flying float earlier in the day.
“Can we fly around for a bit?” I asked Phoenix.
“Of course.” He pointed beyond the courtyard at a vast area of lawn, edged by large Golden Callisti apple trees. “You can fly up to the Healer’s Academy building then around the Great Lake.”
Giving Ruben’s reins a little flick, I held my breath to see if he would heed my instructions. The rapier red glided toward a walled building in the distance. My stomach muscles relaxed, and I exhaled.
Phoenix patted me on the waist. “Good work!”
“Shouldn’t there be more buildings?” I asked. “Where does everyone live?”
Phoenix didn’t reply for a moment, and Rubens’ occasional wingbeats ripped through the air, the noise and vibrations making my bones thrum. When he spoke, his voice was measured, as though trying to explain something complicated to an idiot. “Everyone, save a few witches, lives in one of the dwellings within the mountain’s crust. “
“Crust?”
“You’ve noticed rooms and stalls set into the terraces?”
“Like the mess hall?”
“Amongst others, yes. They are what makes up the crust. And the mountain’s interior is also hollow.” He paused. “Think of it like a volcano, but without the eruptive elements.”
I nodded. “And with a plateau instead of a crater.”
“Exactly!”
As we approached a scorched patch of sandstone that resembled a cliff, the memory of the burned body popped to the forefront of my mind. No outsider would infiltrate the territory, scale the mountain, and pour dragon fire into a skylight just to murder a human administrator. The whole business sounded like the work of a wild dragon.
My gaze drifted to the saddle’s tiny pommel and thin, knee pad. “Why does it feel like the only enchantment on this dragon is a wind barrier?”
He chuckled. “I expect you’re used to the comforts of a standard dragon saddle: sound muffling, shock absorption and magnetic stirrups.”
One hand flew to my mouth. If there was no magnetic stirrup, how would a rider stay on if a dragon made an abrupt stop?
Rubens took my accidental yank on the rein as his cue to pull his wings to his chest and plummet toward the courtyard. My stomach flip-flopped.
“Oh, dear,” shouted Phoenix. “Do you know how to right a diving dragon?”
Chapter 10
Even though the saddle had been enchanted to protect its rider from the wind, it still blew through my hair as we plummeted. The sandstone cliff face was seconds away, as was my imminent demise. I pulled hard on the reins, trying to get Rubens to lift his body. The dragon only spun, blowing streams of smoke from his nostrils.
“Rubens!” I snapped.
“Do something.” Phoenix drawled, as though falling to his death was an everyday occurrence.
“Please!” I yanked hard on the reins and jerked back into his chest.
Rubens raised his head, unfurled his wings and gave them a gentle flap. We flew about fifty feet off the ground.
Applause broke out from the surface.
I glanced down. Captain Caiman and my classmates stared up at us. “Oh.”
“You almost looked like you knew what you were doing,” said Phoenix. “How do you get a dragon to turn?”
“Pull on one side of the reins.” I loosened my grip on the right reign and tightened it on the left.
Rubens tilted a wing and turned. Pride swelled in my chest. If Father could see me riding a dragon, he would… I sighed. He’d still want to marry me off to King Magnar.
The she-dragon snorted in my head. “I don’t see why you’re so pleased with yourself. Rubens was never going to crash. He’s one of the best cavalry dragons in the Known World.”
“So?” I replied into my mind.
“What I don’t understand is why dragons volunteer to be put to use like this. We’re noble beings, not warhorses!”
“If you’re so noble, why did you bond to me without my consent?”
She went silent, so I focussed on the scenery. The sun hovered close to the distant hills, turning the sky a beautiful shade of thistle. In the courtyard below, a figure emerged from one of the sandstone buildings. From the way the light reflected off his long, burgundy hair, I could tell it was Master Fosco.
A pink-haired witch scampered out of the door, the tip of her staff glowing honey-gold. My lip curled. It was that Roseate, who had trapped Ivan and me in with those enraged king hornets. I wrinkled my nose. Obviously, she couldn’t have gotten into much trouble after the incident with the dragonsbane on the float.
Master Fosco beckoned Roseate into the courtyard, waving his arms about while the witch levitated a man-sized bundle through the doors. I cringed at the memory of burned flesh filling my nostrils and glanced away.
“Well done,” said Phoenix. “You’re a natural at this. Most boys throw up their first time on a rapier red. I’m going to give you some more instructions and see what you can do.”
He might have spoken too soon, because if I got any closer to Mr. Jankin’s body, I would probably regurgitate my meat stew. With one huge breath, I followed his directions and got the dragon to spin in the air and dive back toward the class. My gaze flickered to the courtyard. Master Fosco pointed at the cloth-wrapped body, then Roseate bathed it with white light. An instant later, the body disappeared. My breath caught, and I pulled on the reins.
The dragon soared to the skies.
“I didn’t tell you to go up. What’s wrong?” asked Phoenix.
“I-it’s Master Fosco. He’s just destroyed Mr. Jankin’s body!”
Phoenix remained silent. I leaned forward and turned around. His chin-length, burgundy hair hung over the sides of his face like a curtain, casting his face in harsh shadow. It made his amiable features look severe.
“There should at least have been an investigation!”
“To determine the cause of death?” he murmured. “A rogue dragon stuck her head into the skylight and burned him.”
“It wasn’t me!” said the she-dragon.
Shaking my head, I glared down at Master Fosco, who held the door open for Roseate like a gentleman and not a callous male who had just ordered her to disintegrate a body. The she-dragon continued her denials, and I listened with half an ear. While she was stubborn, unpleasant, and quick to take offense, she didn’t seem vicious enough to murder an innocent human.
I couldn’t help thinking about what Phoenix had said. He was sure that a dragon had committed the murder. Twisting around in the saddle, I asked, “If someone controlled a dragon and made it burn a person against its will, would the dragon be guilty?”
He didn’t answer for a while but eventually said, “Then the crime would fall onto the magic-user. But it would take someone with the power of seven witches to perform such a feat.”
Or someone who commanded all the witches in Mount Fornax. Someone who could order a witch to destroy a body. Someo
ne like Master Fosco. However, right now, Phoenix appeared to be the person most pleased by the human’s death.
“I’m surprised poor Mr. Jankin didn’t get a proper funeral,” I said.
“I’m glad he didn’t.” His voice was flat.
“How can you say that?” I turned around to meet eyes as hard and black as obsidian.
“He was a coward and a violent bully who treated his daughter like dirt.”
There wasn’t much I could say to a comment like that. In Steppe, we had a number of different races. Ogres were at the top of our society. They held all the wealth, most of the political power, and could produce witches as offspring. We had other magical races, such as the elves who lived in Mount Bluebeard, trolls, and the occasional imp, but humans outnumbered us all. Humans wielded no power and most survived by becoming serfs to Noble Houses.
Before the Great Dragon Revolution, being human meant living a harsh, brutal existence and carried the risk of being eaten by an ogre… or worse. But after seizing control of Steppe, Aunt Cendrilla had changed the laws so that anyone who harmed a human without provocation received the harshest of penalties. Any ogres thinking of hatching a revolution or mistreating their serfs would answer to Aunt Cendrilla and her dragon warriors.
Silence stretched out between us until Phoenix said, “See if you can land the dragon without my help.”
I raised the reins. Rubens lowered his pointed head and made a gentle descent toward the surface. The dragon landed by the saddle stand with a soft thud, and Phoenix clapped me on the thigh. “Well done, Bluford. It seemed I was wrong about you. Clearly, you have riding talent.”
My cheeks warmed, and I ducked my head. I would have thanked him, but I was still confused about all those comments he had made about Mr. Jankin.
Rubens lowered himself to his belly and tucked his wings in tight, allowing Phoenix to jump down. I took advantage of his generosity and slid to the ground before the dragon had the chance to stand again.
Captain Caiman turned to Phoenix and jerked his head at me. “Your verdict on Bluford?”
“A natural dragon rider,” he replied.
I stood a little taller and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my leather breeches. Even if I had an irritating dragon in my head and had been reduced to lying about my identity, I’d proven Father wrong. I was more than just a bargaining chip.
The Captain’s eyes glinted. “If I catch you talking in class again, you’ll be mucking out rapier reds… without the help of magic.” Then he turned to Ivan. “Since you gave the best answers, you go next, Longhorn.”
While Phoenix mounted the dragon with Ivan, Captain Caiman explained the type of heavy saddles used by mages.
I raised my hand.
“Bluford?”
“Why aren’t witches allowed to become dragon mages or riders?”
He rubbed his bald, crimson head. “It’s their magic, you see. They already have an affinity to their staffs and don’t need dragons to bring out their powers.”
“Oh,” I replied.
“Besides, witches don’t need to ride dragons unless they’re hunting a wild or a rogue. A witch can become airborne with magical vehicles and flying cloaks.”
“But what if they use up all their magic in battle?” I asked.
Captain Caiman grinned. “Griffon should be able to answer that one.”
Rufus puffed out his chest and explained how his brother flew over the Frozen Sea and thawed an iceberg with a sleeping dragon. This was a dragon in its final stage of development and was so large and powerful it only needed to wake one day a year to eat. In order to graduate as a dragon mage, a cadet needed to wake the dragon with his magic and bid it to carry out a specific task.
He exclaimed, “One sleeping dragon can transport two dozen witches with ease!”
I smiled, picturing myself riding such a colossal beast.
“Don’t look so proud of yourself,” said the she-dragon. “You still haven’t gotten me exonerated.”
“If you don’t want me to pass on your messages to Phoenix and the others, how can I possibly help you?”
“Call Auntie Rilla. She’ll save me.”
I clenched my teeth and sent her a sharp refusal.
“But she can do anything!” the dragon whined.
“I’m not contacting her.”
“Why not?” she screeched.
“I’m hiding from my father, who wants to marry me off to King Magnar of the Savannah Empire.”
“So?”
“And my father’s married to Queen Cendrilla.”
“So?”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “If she knows where I’m hiding, she’ll tell Father and he’ll send me packing. He could get her to agree to anything.”
“You’ve got it wrong. With Auntie Rilla, it’s the other way around.”
I furrowed my brow. “How do you know so much about my family?”
The dragon didn’t reply. I chewed my lip. Was she a spy? I shook my head. That would be impossible. Even a squinting, one-eyed ogre would notice a strange dragon lurking about the palace grounds. She had to be reading my mind. Maybe she had a different perception of things I had observed in the past.
A large, red dragon swooped down from behind the building. It was accompanied by a crimson messenger dragonet, just like the one I had fed in the palace. The dragonet dropped a scroll into the Captain’s outstretched hand. He broke the seal, unrolled it and read its contents, brow furrowed. “I must leave on urgent business. You three, when Phoenix returns, tell him to pack everything in its proper place.”
“Yes, sir!” we chorused.
He jumped onto his mount, who launched off the cliff edge. The crimson dragonet perched on the Captain’s shoulder. Realization fell on me like a boulder of sandstone. Phoenix had mentioned the first stages of dragon growth: egg, hatchling, dragonet, and dragon. But more importantly, we’d learned that dragonets didn’t grow into adult dragons over time. They exploded into the next stage when they had absorbed enough ambient magic.
“You’re the green dragonet!” I said into my mind.
“Not anymore,” she replied, her voice filled with regret.
‘That’s how you know so much about Aunt Cendrilla.”
“Yes.”
She didn’t say anything after that. I considered explaining to her again why I couldn’t call my aunt. There was no point. The green dragonet would have heard the gossip around the palace. She’d perched on my shoulder as I wrote the letter to the Dragon Academy. Aunt Cendrilla’s intervention wouldn’t help her anyway. The Queen couldn’t pardon someone without justification. The only way to help the dragonet would be to find Mr. Jankin’s killer.
“What’s your name, anyway?” I asked.
“Would you send Auntie Rilla a message if I tell you?”
“I can call you Emerald, if you like.”
She sighed. “It’s Fyrian-Lacerta.”
Gobi stood in front of me and glowered. He was half a head taller, but it was clear from the roundness in his cheeks and wispy facial hair that he was the youngest of us all. I avoided his gaze by staring up at Rubens, who was flying loops up in the clouds.
A thick finger prodded my shoulder. “Bluford.”
I glared back at him. “What?”
“You are a runt.”
“I’m a quarter-ogre. We don’t grow as quickly as half-ogres.” I wrinkled my nose. “Didn’t the Prince Regent teach you not to insult others for their race?”
Stafford furrowed his brow. “Everyone knows that a person’s size has no bearing on their power. How old are you?”
Gobi’s cheeks turned red. “I’m a man grown!”
I shook my head and stared up at the sky. Now, Rubens was spinning toward the surface. Stomach twisting, I sucked in a deep breath, hoping Ivan was doing these stunts on purpose.
“You look about the same age as my brother,” said Rufus. “Twelve.”
Gobi continued to deny being so young, and I
blocked out the rest of the argument to continue my conversation with the she-dragon.
“What should I call you?” I asked.
“Fyrian-Lacerta,” she said, her voice sharp. After a moment, she added in a gentler tone, “Fyri, if you must.”
“You can call me Alba.”
Rubens landed with a gentle thud. Ivan slumped in Phoenix’s arms, his face drained of blood, and with vomit splattered over the front of his armor.
“Griffon. Perrault,” said Phoenix. “Help me with Longhorn.”
My two classmates raced to the dragon and pulled Ivan off.
“He didn’t ask for your help because you are weak,” said Gobi.
“Yes, and that’s probably why he didn’t ask for yours, either.” I stared straight into his cobalt blue eyes. “Look, it’s your first day, and you’re nervous. I get that. But picking on me won’t make you seem any more stronger or competent. Nor will pretending you’re best friends with the Prince Regent!”
Gobi snarled and balled his fists, but I ignored him and rushed to my friend.
My other two classmates had laid Ivan on the sandstone. He curled to one side, staring out through unfocussed eyes and rasping out shallow breaths. His face had turned the pallor of curdled milk, and I hoped he hadn’t ruined his chances of becoming a dragon rider. Earlier, he’d implied that he didn’t have the power to become a mage. If he couldn’t ride dragons, I wasn’t sure how he would cope.
Swallowing back a lump in my throat, I glanced at Phoenix. “Will we get another dragon riding class?”
His brows furrowed. “Yes, he’ll get another chance to prove his aptitude for riding.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. From the way Ivan was spasming on the ground, he looked ready to drop dead of apoplexy.
“You should be worrying about me,” said Fyrian. “He’s a lost cause.”
I pursed my lips. That was what the Witch General had thought when she told Aunt Cendrilla I had no aptitude for witch magic. Mount Fornax wasn’t anything like the Magical Militia. Males of all abilities appeared to find their place. In time, Ivan would find his.
“Fyri. You can see out of my eyes, can’t you?”
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