Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Dragon School: First Flight
Dragon School
Sarah K. L. Wilson
Published by Sarah K. L. Wilson, 2017.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
DRAGON SCHOOL: FIRST FLIGHT
First edition. November 9, 2017.
Copyright © 2017 Sarah K. L. Wilson.
Written by Sarah K. L. Wilson.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Behind the Scenes:
for Kathryn
Chapter One
The best part about dragon school is choosing your dragon. It’s the part that everyone talks about and the part that they’ll tell stories to their children and children’s children about someday – if they live that long. Dragon Riders don’t live very long. Not that that bothers anyone. If anything, it just makes more of us desperate to live to ride a dragon as one of the Dominion Sky People.
The best part about choosing your dragon is that you join a Dominion Color when you choose. Dragons only come in a few colors, and the color you choose determines your role for the rest of your life – short or long – as a Dragon Rider.
I want to join a Dominion Color and gain a purpose in life. No one wants a cripple like me to do anything except stay out of the way but I’m going to show them that I stand just as much chance as everyone else.
We were clustered on the edge of the towering cliffs, shivering like a clutch of baby chicks. The wind whirled over the black rock of the cliff, blasting us towards the cliff’s ragged edge. Did it expect us to leap and fly like the dragons housed here? Towering high above us, in sweeping arcs and swirling inlays, the Dragons’ cotes were as intimidating as the legends of the great beasts. These weren’t even the grand Dominion Cotes - only Dragon School cotes - but already I felt awed by the sheer size and scope of them.
Our instructor, Grandis Dantriet, strode in front of us, hands clasped behind him, his gnarled muscles bunched under leather straps and flowing silk scarves. He wore his white hair in the Dragon Rider way – long with tight braids mixed between the stray strands.
“Today you choose your dragon. Make no mistake: this choice will define you.”
A stir went through our ranks at his words. I glanced beside me to a girl with silver-blonde hair and a wispy sky-silk dress. She was high nobility at the very least and her cold glare told me that she didn’t care for my attention. Likely, she’d be among those who chose first. The wealthy and powerful were given the first pick of the newly caught dragons. I didn’t even need to guess who would choose last – me. And with my luck, I’d get a surly swamp-colored dragon covered in warts with breath as bad as a garbage heap. If I did, I’d still be grateful. I was here to ride a dragon, not to look pretty doing it.
I adjusted my crutch and watched with interest as Grandis Dantriet took a piece of chalk and wrote our names on a board between the alcoves. Beside each name was a black blank. Those blanks were about to be filled with dragon names. I felt my heart speed up. Even knowing I’d be last to choose, even knowing I’d get the worst of the draw, I still couldn’t help but feel the electric excitement of the moment. I was about to choose a dragon. I was going to be a Dragon Rider.
Grandis Dantriet took a curving ram’s horn off the wall and blew into it. The blaring note left vibrations rolling through us. Should we be worried about being blown off the cliffs behind us? The others were looking warily around them, but I kept my eyes on the Grandis. I wasn’t going to let fear stop me - not now, not ever.
A Dragon Rider stepped out from each alcove, their twisted silk scarves flapping from elbows and knees in the stiff breeze. Identical stony expressions painted each face. Words – too small for me to read from here - were burned on the leather strapping of their clothing. What would a Dragon Rider write on himself for safety or luck? Or were they tribute? Were they words to the heavens?
I didn’t have time to dwell on them, as the Grandis blew the horn again - two sharp blasts and the Dragon Riders pulled out dark sticks from their belts. Or, at least, I thought they were sticks until fiery spurts burst from the ends and they cracked the whips sharply. Heads poked through the alcoves accompanied by roars and sulfurous smells. One wicked eye fixed me in its unblinking gaze. Orange and slit-pupiled, it looked like a window into hell. I felt a shiver begin at the base of my spine and ripple up through me, but with it came a giddy excitement. This is what I was here for.
The Grandis lowered the horn and called the first name. “High Castelan Savette Leedris.”
The girl in the filmy sky silk stepped forward with a smirk for me. Of course. I called that one, didn’t I? She glided down the line of snarling dragons as if she were selecting cloth for her next dress. A green one snapped his jaws at her, and although his head was larger than her entire body she did not flinch. She was courageous - I couldn’t help but grudgingly approve of that.
She stopped in front of a shining crimson dragon, so sleek that his scales were barely raised. Lifting her chin, she looked at the Grandis and nodded. The Grandis flicked a wrist and the Dragon Rider whipped her dragon back into his alcove. Her name was written beside his: Eeamdor.
I felt a burst of envy mix with my excitement. What a fine dragon! Imagine being able to choose such an amazing creature to learn to ride - to live and die with?
The next one they called was another High Castelan - Daedru Tevish. He chose a gnarled golden dragon – Daacdid. Daacdid’s lion mane and glittering black eyes flashed in the sun. I did not envy him his choice, although I liked the goals of the golden Dominion Color - the Goldens were diplomats. Where peace needed brokering, where disputes were irreconcilable, where boundaries were indefinite - that was where the golden Colors shone brightest. It was a far cry from red - the Color of war. Daedru and Savette would be opposed to one another from this moment on.
I was too nervous to remember the names of all those choosing dragons, but I did note that they chose dragons more for their color than anything else that I could determine. There seemed to be no preference for sleek over gnarled or aggressive over mild, but as the dragons’ numbers thinned, the anxiety in those of us remaining intensified. When only three of us were left, the curly haired boy beside me chose the last black dragon with almost panicked haste. He must be desperate to be part of the Color of Towers - to build, defend and expand our sky cities. That didn’t seem very exciting to me, but I would have gratefully taken that dragon, just as I’d gratefully take the red dragon two down from me who smelled so strongly that I thought my brain might melt out of my ears.
I was going to be last, just as I had known. It was hard to even s
ee dragons from where we stood now. All the nearest had been claimed. There was only one more boy before me. He walked far down the line of alcoves and then back in the other direction, leaping back from one of the alcoves as the dragon within it snapped at him. He stumbled towards the edge of the precipice, scrambling back to solid land at the last moment before shakily pointing at an alcove I couldn’t see. A cheer from the others who chose Green told me he would be an Explorer. I didn’t know what I would be, but I was excited to be something.
There was a snicker from the group and when I glanced over it stopped. They were laughing at me - of course- but I couldn’t tell who started it. I wanted to believe it was Savette, but that might just be because I didn’t trust anyone who could afford sky silk.
The Grandis looked me in the eyes. “Amel Leafbrought.”
I stepped forward, leaning on my crutch and trying for steady since I knew I couldn’t manage graceful. I followed the line of alcoves, my pace slowed by my useless leg and the difficulty of finding a safe spot to place my stick with every step. To my relief, the Dragon Riders stared ahead in stony silence, not paying my awkward gait any more mind than they paid anyone else’s pace.
I had yet to see a dragon in any of them, but I thought I could see one up ahead. A ruby head poked out from the alcove, roared and retreated in a gust of steam. In the next alcove, a white stole a glance at me before retreating again. Many whites had been claimed already. Wouldn’t it be ironic if I were a Healer Color? Me, with the crippled leg?
A few alcoves down, a gnarled, flaky red peered at me with orange eyes. I swallowed hard. It would take nerves of steel to ride a dragon like that. Wouldn’t it be just as strange for me to choose the red of war as the white of healing? What did I have to offer any of them? I was a leaf floating along the current, no choice on where it might take me or how fast, my only choice to ride the water and try not to sink.
Words and truth.
It was like a voice speaking right into my mind. Perhaps I really was crazy.
No, you’re just listening to a dragon.
Wait. What? Did all the dragons talk like this? Why was I only hearing one?
Because we don’t talk to humans if we don’t have to.
Did this one have to talk to me for some reason? That didn’t make sense. Who was I in the grand scheme of things? Nothing.
Today you won’t be choosing a dragon.
I will choose one. I blinked back sudden tears. Even dragons didn’t believe I should be here. I couldn’t let this voice in my head rattle me. This was my only chance. I should choose quickly before the chance was ripped away like everything else. I reached for the white dragon. I could be a healer. Ironic or not, it was better than nothing.
Stop.
I froze.
You won’t be choosing your dragon today because your dragon is choosing you.
A head poked out of an alcove at the far end of the line. I couldn’t even make out what color it was as I hobbled forward.
Does it matter what color I am?
Not to me, it didn’t.
Good.
I’d be whatever I needed to be. I was just grateful to get to try to live my dream - even if I failed. Some people don’t even get to try.
We don’t take to humans easily.
Dragons didn’t take to humans? Then why have Dragon Riders at all?
By ‘we’ I meant Purple Dragons.
He said it just as I finally got close enough to make out his deep eggplant color just as his huge yellow eye winked at me. I gasped. He was gorgeous - sleek and lovely. I reached out a hand to touch him, but a leather gloved hand snatched mine away. The Dragon Rider stationed at the mouth of the alcove stared straight ahead as if I wasn’t there, even though his hand gripped my wrist like a dog with a bone.
“He’ll take your hand off. Don’t touch.”
“How do I choose him?”
The Dragon Rider looked me up and down. He was young for a rider- not many years older than I was – with a shining bald head and a stern expression that didn’t match the youth and exuberance in his eyes.
“Pick a different dragon. Purple dragons – well, they’re ornery and difficult. They have minds of their own. Even physically whole, I wouldn’t bet on you living the week out on a Purple.”
I swallowed. He’d noticed my limp. I bit the inside of my cheek. Stupid Amel, stupid. Of course, he noticed. It was the first thing anyone ever noticed about you. The only reason you’re surprised is because you’re so taken with the dragons that you thought you were like everyone else for a moment. You should remember that none of them respect you. They all think that you’ll fail. You need to prove them wrong. I needed to start right here with this dragon.
I shook the gloved hand off my wrist, glared right in the Dragon Rider’s eye and reached my hand further into the alcove. The yellow eye never blinked, but he didn’t flame me or snap the arm off with a crunch of bone. Instead, he puffed a huff of steam and I bit back a curse as it left the skin of my arm red and tingling.
“I choose this dragon,” I said, loudly enough for Grandis Dantriet to hear at the end of the line.
“He must like you,” the Dragon Rider beside the alcove said. “That mild burn is like a love tap from him. Be careful. Next time he might melt the flesh right off the bone.”
I sniffed and spun on my crutch, hobbling away.
Until we meet again.
A burst of excitement filled my chest. I wish I knew his name.
Raolcan.
I heard him say it at the same moment that I read it on the board as the Grandis finished chalking it next to my name. Somehow, I knew that name would change my life forever.
Chapter Two
When I was seventeen months old, raiders invaded our village. My parents gathered up their children and ran to the forest, like everyone else. I don’t remember that day, which is probably a good thing.
My grandfather was carrying me. I’m fifth of seven children and even though there were only six of us born then, my parents had their hands full. As we scrambled up the clay cliffs, my grandfather lost his footing and fell, dropping me and landing on top of me. He crushed my leg and hip.
Though it healed, it was never the same. I don’t blame my grandfather. We were close until his death, but he always looked at me with a sad longing in his eyes. I think he could see me for what I could have been if the accident hadn’t happened. But that’s the thing – it did happen and pretending it didn’t is foolish and it only holds me back. I won’t let anything do that. I’m determined not to be any less than someone with two working legs.
If only people didn’t all have to rub that crippled leg in my face as if it were a sin. That’s the part that bothers me the most. I didn’t do anything wrong – something wrong happened to me – so why does everyone act like I caused all this?
I hobbled down the long stone ledge with the rest of the recruits and I could hear them whispering about me. It’s easy to hang back when you know you won’t like what you hear. I couldn’t help but listen as the conversation grew louder.
“Why is she even here? You know she won’t be able to ride a dragon like that, much less train one.”
“It’s the rules, straw-for-brains. The Dragon Riders have to accept anyone who applies for the training. It’s the code.” That was the arrogant girl, Savette. She must be clever, too. Life worked that way. It gave some people everything and some people nothing, just to balance things out.
“Even if she dies the first day of training?”
“People always die. I just hope it weeds out the weak quickly. Dragon Riders need to be strong and focused. We don’t need cripples or weaklings.” That was the boy called Daedru. He’d chosen the color of diplomacy. Maybe he should rethink his choice. Not that he could now.
We were the Colors of our dragons whether we lived or died. There were no other choices for us. I knew that and it was why I was here. My parents loved me and they would house me and help me as long as I l
ived – I knew that – but I also saw how little we had and how much one mouth cost to feed, especially when that mouth couldn’t do farm work. If I could have married, wifely chores would have been an option. Raising children and keeping house were hard work but didn’t require as much brawn. But with my crushed hip, the wise women said I wouldn’t bear children so that wasn’t an option.
I would either live or die a Dragon Rider, now. We all would. No one left the service once they were recruited. You lived to serve as a Dragon Rider, or to serve Dragon Riders. At least my family wouldn’t starve trying to provide for me. I could be independent and earn my own keep – or die trying.
“How is she even going to get around here?”
I sighed a little at that because it was something I was worried about, too. Dragon School was nestled on the side of a massive butte. Alcoves built into the side of it served as the stables, dorms, banquet halls and the offices of the teachers and students. There were also housing sections for visiting Dragon Riders, an armory, and store rooms. Each of them was connected by long narrow outer ledges and spiraling steps or ladders going up and down between levels. Climbing the ladders to the stables on the very top level had taken all my strength this morning and I was already lagging behind the rest of the students. Just going from one place to the next was going to take all my stamina. At least I’d be in great shape.
“Hey, girl,” one of them called back to me. “Dinner starts at four bells. If you don’t get there in time I’m taking your portion.”
He could take all the food he could find and he still wouldn’t take my dream away. A little hunger was nothing new for me. It took some effort to descend the ladders to the third level. Levels at Dragon School were numbered from the top down so that level three was three levels below the stables.
By the time I reached the dining hall, the meal was well underway. Long tables covered with white cloth were heaped with food. The smell of salmon with lemon sauce was mouthwatering. The tables close to the wide open windows were raised on daises and were clearly for senior Dragon Riders and instructors. I saw Grandis Dantriet eating at one of them. He was the only instructor I’d met so far. He’d met us on the boat this morning before we were ferried to the base of the mountain.
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