The Dragoneer Trilogy

by Vickie Knestaut

  As Paege went off to the pen to help prepare the food for the day, Trysten climbed the set of wooden stairs to her father’s den and slipped inside. Heat from a small stove brushed cold from her shoulders that she hadn’t been aware was there. In the next room, on the other side of the small receiving room, Galelin stood before a table and spoke in hushed tones. Mardoc, appearing to ignore the healer, sat in a chair on the other side of the table and studied a scroll from the collection that had gathered in a basket since his injury.

  Galelin glanced back at Trysten, then returned his attention to Mardoc. “I see that arguing with you will get me nowhere.”

  “I always knew you to be a wise man, Galelin,” Mardoc said without looking up.

  With a huff and a shake of his head, Galelin exited the room. Mardoc looked up. His eyes bore into the back of the man who dared leave before the Dragoneer had dismissed him.

  “A pleasant evening to you and your mother,” Galelin muttered as he brushed past Trysten.

  Once the door shut with a rattle behind her, Mardoc sat back in his chair. He ran his calloused, thick hand through his beard. “Is everything all right downstairs?”

  Trysten nodded and approached the doorway to her father’s chambers. The heat of the fire stayed behind. It pushed at her back and dared her on.

  “Is there something on your mind?”

  She opened her mouth, paused, then asked, “How is Paege coming along?”

  Her teeth snapped as she clenched her jaw shut. That was not at all what she had meant to ask.

  Mardoc folded his hands together and laid them on the table. His brown eyes considered them for a moment. “Paege will be ready when called upon.”

  He nodded once, a bit of punctuation to state that the line of thought was done and over with.

  Trysten swallowed. Her eyes darted to the window behind her father. The glass had been a work of labor from the village’s glass blower. He had worked many hours to provide the clearest glass possible for the window in the Dragoneer’s den. Still, it warped the view of the mountains slightly. They were gray, without depth. The shepherds in the hills beyond were nearly invisible, blotted out by the slight blurs and ripples in the glass. The world outside was distorted, yet her father’s sole purpose was to keep it orderly, to keep things exactly as they were now.

  He would resist her bid to be Dragoneer. He would resist it both as Dragoneer and as her father. And though he would never say such a thing to her outright, she had overheard him discuss the matter with her mother. The lack of a son bothered him. The title of dragoneer had been in the family for many generations, and it was about to slip away from him. He was the end of the line. Or so he thought.

  Trysten pulled her shoulders back. It would not be easy to convince her father to change, but no dragoneer ever backed down from a fight or fled a necessary confrontation.

  “Things look grim with Aeronwind,” she said. “Galelin says that the humors in the wound are unbalanced.”

  Mardoc nodded again. “So I’ve been told.”

  “He had Paege dress the wound after he himself took a mere glance at it. He said that Paege needed the practice. Galelin has given up on Aeronwind. He thinks she can’t be saved.”

  Mardoc gestured at a chair on the other side of the table. “And how did Paege do?”

  Trysten sat, and despite herself, she gazed about the room. She had been here many times as a girl, and the room had always looked so big and intimidating with its charts hung on the wall and a fortune of books along a shelf.

  “Paege did fine,” Trysten said as she returned her attention to her father. “He knows how to dress a leg wound, but the matter at hand is that Aeronwind will not last much longer, and there is some concern that Paege may not be ready to bond with Elevera when her time comes.”

  Mardoc sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. The proximity to the window hid a bit of his face despite the solid, gray clouds outside. “Paege will be ready. When Elevera’s time comes, she will do what is best for the horde. It is instinctual with them. She will bond with Paege. They will both be ready.”

  Trysten shifted. “I know that what is best for the horde is what should always be done, and though I would like to see Paege be the next Dragoneer, I can’t help but wonder if there might be someone better suited. Wouldn’t it be better for the horde if there was someone who already had a strong relationship with Elevera?”

  Mardoc lifted an eyebrow. “Such as?”

  Trysten’s hands clenched the wooden armrests of the chair. He was supposed to have agreed with her, and not immediately challenge her for a name. Wilds. She had not prepared the case for herself yet, and here he was already demanding a name.

  She glanced out the window again, to the glass-blurred landscape of mountains and the press of winter storms that held back the soldiers of the Western Kingdom. Being the Dragoneer was so much responsibility. It was about leading the force that kept the Gul mountain pass empty and free of enemy soldiers when the fighting season began. It was not something to take lightly. Should she back off, regroup, take a day or two to build her case gradually before dropping her own name?

  She recalled the look in Elevera’s eyes when she stared at Aeronwind. Despair and pride mingled in a way that Trysten could barely wrap her own mind and heart around. The way dragons felt things was so huge. It was eight different feelings all at once. But it was clear to her that Elevera was ready, that she was standing by. Aeronwind would not last much longer. Now was the time.

  Trysten sat up and looked at her father. Her knuckles whitened against the chair arms. “Me. I want to—I will be the next Dragoneer.”

  “This again. You?” Mardoc asked. His steepled hands collapsed. He placed his hands in his lap. “You want to be the next Dragoneer? You want to replace me?”

  His head drooped a bit at the last as if in utter disbelief.

  Trysten nodded. “I already have a rapport with Elevera. She knows me. She trusts me. She will bond with me when the time comes.”

  “You?” Mardoc repeated, then shook his head. “No.” The corner of his mouth jerked up. It was either an aborted grin or a twitch of his lips. “No. It can’t be. There are no female dragoneers. There never have been. It’s always been a position held by men. The alpha dragons will not bond with women. What you ask simply can’t be, though I do admire your courage for stating such a thing in the first place.”

  Trysten leaned forward as if she might escape the heat creeping up her face. “How do you know dragons won’t bond with women?”

  “How do I know?” A grin creased Mardoc’s face. “Well, I know my history, Little Heart.” He gestured at the hand-copied books on the shelf. “It is the duty of a dragoneer to be well-educated, to know history and geography. And I know in all my studies, in all the times I’ve spoken with others, a woman has never been a dragoneer. It just doesn’t happen. It’s not because I don’t wish it, but because it just doesn’t happen. The alphas won’t allow it.”

  To the wilds with that. It wasn’t at all that alphas wouldn’t allow it. Trysten knew it. She knew it from Elevera. They had a connection. They had a bond already that was as strong as any bond between her father and Aeronwind. It only needed for Elevera to become the alpha for it be cast as a true bond. Such a connection need only be proved to her father. Once he was forced to see for himself the relationship between her and Elevera, a future dragoneer and her mount, he would have to recognize that his excuse belonged to the wilds.

  Chapter 4

  Trysten pushed herself up out of her chair. When she didn’t turn away, when she didn’t retreat to the door, Mardoc’s eyes widened.

  She took a deep breath. “It is the right of anyone in the village to compete in the consideration, is it not?”

  “Yes, but Paege is already—”

  “Then I formally enter my name into the consideration. I, Trysten, daughter of Mardoc and Caron, wish to become the Dragoneer.”

  Mardoc didn’t respond ri
ght away. He let out a long, slow breath through his nose and folded his hands on the table before him. “I would dismiss any hordesman from consideration for interrupting me, but you are not a hordesman. You are a stable hand. You are not even allowed to be a hordesman.”

  Her father leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, “But this cannot come to pass. You will only complicate things. I cannot deny the connection that you seem to share with Elevera already, but it takes more than familiarity to be a dragoneer. It is a bond between dragon and man that transcends all other relationships. It requires a level of strength and will on the part of the Dragoneer that women just don’t have.”

  Heat rushed over Trysten’s face. It trickled down her back until her skin itched with irritation.

  “This isn’t about my attitudes or beliefs,” Mardoc said as he held up a hand. “This is just how things are. The dragons require this. If you wish to be upset about it, then you must direct your ire to the dragons in general and to Elevera in particular. This has nothing to do with me.”

  Trysten drew in a deep breath. “Are you denying me a chance in the consideration?”

  Mardoc sat back again, then shook his head. “It is not my place to deny you this. It is the law. The law states that the consideration is open to any man who can make the declaration.”

  “Have you ever denied anyone else before?”

  Mardoc rubbed the top of his right thigh. His gaze dropped to the table top and the basket of scrolls still awaiting his attention. As if coming to a decision, he looked back up to her.

  “I have never rejected anyone who was qualified.”

  Trysten straightened her back. “I am qualified. I’m as capable as any of the other hordesmen. I can ride a dragon. How many hours have I spent riding the courier dragons with Mother? I can shoot a bow. How many hares have I shot since mother taught me the bow? What else is there?”

  Mardoc glanced away. Finally, he gave his head another shake. “Do you understand what you are asking, Little Heart?”

  And suddenly there was her father, trying to talk sense and reason into his ram-headed daughter. The Dragoneer was gone, placed for the time being behind his other title. This wasn’t the Dragoneer who was denying her rights, but rather, it was her father.

  “I am asking for my right, as a member of the village of Aerona, to defend my village against those who would see it harmed.”

  Her father lowered his face slightly, stared at his hands as he clasped them together again. “Being the Dragoneer is about more than defending your village. I applaud your desire, and should the troops from the Western Kingdom ever make it this far, then I would expect nothing less than to see you on the front line, shoulder to shoulder with the other hunters drawing back their bows. But being the Dragoneer is not about defending the village. It is about defending the entire kingdom. It is leading the dragon horde into battle. It is about maintaining the horde.”

  Her father leaned back in his chair. A quick whisper of pain twisted his face, then faded away as he rubbed his right knee.

  “Being the Dragoneer means defending against all enemies, including other alphas who would steal our horde away. It is about keeping the horde from absconding. It is about running the weyr and keeping order. It is a dangerous position.”

  Trysten nodded. Her gaze fell to his twisted leg. “I have seen so. First hand.”

  Her father wiped his hand down the length of his beard. “There is a lot that rides on this position. This is not playing soldier when the village comes under threat. Should Aerona fall, then so falls one of the first lines of defense against the Western Kingdom. The responsibility that rides on the Dragoneer’s shoulders—on my shoulders—” Mardoc said as he thrust his index finger into the bottom of his beard where it covered his breastbone. “This responsibility is not to be taken lightly. It is not negotiable. It is not about to change because a young girl takes a notion.”

  “I am not a young girl,” Trysten said through a tense mouth. “I am half a year older than Paege.”

  Her father sat back in his chair and rubbed at his right leg again. Whether intentional or not, his brow furrowed a tiny bit. Lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. Pain lay just beneath his features.

  “This isn’t about your age. This isn’t about your gender. This is about duty, about my duty. Aeronwind, as much as it pains me to see this, will pass soon. And though my heart may always be at the peak of the fighting season, I am not too full of either pride or ignorance to admit that I can no longer hold a saddle the way a rider must hold it. It is time for Aeronwind and myself to step aside, but my duties are not complete just yet. I must find my replacement. Someone who understands the severity of this position. Someone who the dragons will respect and work with. These are my primary duties, and after last year’s fighting season, now is not the time to let some romantic notion of a warrior princess cloud my judgment.”

  Her father leaned forward again, and it was obvious that his leg pained him to the point of distraction.

  “There will be a consideration, as there always has been. But Paege will win that consideration. My mind is already made up. Other hordesmen will one day, perhaps, make worthy successors if called upon, but Paege will be my successor as Dragoneer of the Aerona horde, and as your father, I ask you to not make this more difficult. It is hard enough on Paege to win the respect of Elevera without having to also contend with your notions. Please. Accept my wishes and cease this foolishness before you endanger the horde.”

  Trysten took another deep breath. “Would it not endanger the horde to make a dragoneer of someone who is not ready?”

  “Paege will be ready. You have my word. I will see to it. I, more than anyone, know the importance of this.”

  “It is my right to participate in the consideration. I have grown up in this village, and I am of age,” she said.

  Mardoc let out a long sigh. He slumped further back in his chair and rubbed again at his leg.

  “It is not a right. It is a right only for men, so says the law.” He nodded to the books on the shelf.

  “Prove it.”

  The edge of Mardoc’s eye twitched. “Prove it? I need not prove it. I am the Dragoneer. It is my duty to know the laws I am sworn to defend.”

  Trysten nodded to the books. “You say it’s in there, then show me.“

  Mardoc considered her a moment. A slight grin spread out beneath his beard and mustache. “Once I show you that the consideration is only for men, will you then promise to let this go?”

  Trysten swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her head. She flexed the fingers that gripped her left wrist. Dare she gamble on this one thing? Why not? If it was supposedly impossible for women to bond with alpha dragons, then why would there be a law forbidding something that couldn’t happen? Besides, what other choice did she have? Her father was a man of his word. If there were wiggle room in the old laws, then she would have it.

  She nodded.

  “You are a good girl, Trysten. A smart one. I admire that you are willing to let the law be the law. How could I allow anyone to be Dragoneer who would ignore the laws once they became an inconvenience?”

  He pointed to one of the leather-bound books on the shelf. “There. Fetch me that one… Fourth from the end.”

  Trysten stepped up to the shelf and pulled out the book indicated. She handed it to her father.

  Mardoc split the pages open to a section near the back, then placed it on the table. His eyes darted back and forth over the neatly lettered laws scrolled out on the parchment pages. With a delicate touch, he turned back several pages, then stopped. He placed a finger beneath a line and left it there.

  Trysten stepped up behind him and read over his shoulder.

  …Furthermore, the Consideration will be made up of those men who fall under the protection of the weyr, and who have formally proclaimed a desire to serve as their weyr’s dragoneer.

  The bottom dropped out of Trysten’s stomach. She read the law again.
<
br />   “No.”

  Her father’s hand closed the book gently as if putting the book as well as the argument to rest. His palm remained on the leather cover. “We had an agreement.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Trysten said. “Why would there be a law forbidding me to do something that I’m not supposed to be able to do in the first place.”

  “To keep overly ambitious young women from hurting themselves and endangering others, I assume.”

  “No,” Trysten shook her head as she stepped back away from the table as if to put some distance between herself and the laws. She shook her head. “They don’t mean ‘men’ as in men. It is to mean people, all people in the village. Whoever wrote it down wrote it down wrong. They had to have. Why else would they forbid women if women can’t even—”

  “That’s enough, Trysten. We had an agreement.”

  “No,” Trysten said with a shake of her head. “That’s not what they meant. Show me where it says that women aren’t allowed to participate. Show me where women are strictly forbidden!”

  “That’s enough!” her father said. His knuckles blanched slightly as his hand clutched the book. “The law forbids it, and so I forbid it. Both as the Dragoneer, and as your father.”

  “My father? No, I’m of age. I went through the rites. I’m an adult, and you can not—”

  “You are an unmarried woman, then!” Mardoc said as he turned in his chair with obvious effort. His face burned red. Despite the chill back in his den, away from the fireplace in the receiving room, beads of sweat dotted his brow. “I am responsible for you, regardless of your age, until you are married and have a family of your own. You are not to be part of the consideration, and even if you were to participate, it would not matter because as the Dragoneer I am telling you that Paege will succeed me, and my decision is final! I will not have you complicating things to satisfy some whim of yours. It is for the good of the weyr, the good of the village, and the good of the kingdom that I tell you no! And even if you can’t get it through that stubborn head you inherited from your mother, I’m telling you no for your own good as well.”