Fanning the Flames

by Chris Cannon

  “Maybe, but he seems to be drawing a line between the Blues on the Directorate and everyone else. I know he’s an elitist snob, but he relies on the Green dragons to figure things out, so I’m not sure why he’d risk alienating them. Did you see the look on Miss Enid’s face when he categorized her and Mr. Stanton as lesser dragons?”

  “No.”

  “It looked like she was literally biting her tongue to keep from lashing out at him. I’m not sure what kind of vengeance she can get at the library, but I don’t think Ferrin will be checking out books or receiving helpful information from her any time soon.”

  “I remember Clint saying that each Clan has a role to play.” He ticked items off on his fingers. “The Reds are the middle class worker bees. The Oranges are the miners and farmers. The Blacks are the artists and performers. The Green dragons are the problem solvers. The Blues are like the one percenters in the human world. They act like they earned their station in life when they were just born into a family. It’s not an accomplishment to be born rich. It’s luck, but it’s not a skill. And I know ruling a government is probably complicated, but to act like he’s above everyone else isn’t smart. His holier-than-thou attitude is the reason Rebels exist.”

  “Agreed.” Bryn yawned. “And maybe it’s family bias, but I think my grandfather is more reasonable.”

  “He is far more approachable,” Valmont said. “Ferrin never would have agreed to fund Garret’s prosthetic wing project.”

  “You’re right.” Bryn stood and stretched. “And now it’s time for sleep.”

  “On the comfy couch,” Valmont added.

  “Really?” Bryn played dumb. “I thought we might sleep out here.”

  “Smart ass,” Valmont grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the window. He didn’t let go of her when they climbed inside and he locked the window. He didn’t let go of her when he pulled her to the couch. He didn’t let go of her once he sat next to her and kissed her. No matter what weirdness happened in her life, as long as he never let go of her, she’d be fine.

  How perfect would her life be if the Directorate did away with the arranged-marriage scenario? She’d be free to date who she wanted and wouldn’t have to think about marriage for another ten years. The odds of that happening were slim to none, but a girl could dream.

  …

  In the middle of the night, Bryn woke up alone on the couch. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Valmont?”

  No answer. Weird. Maybe he’d woken up and gone to the bathroom. She checked his room and found him stretched out on the bed. What the heck was that about? She leaned against his doorframe and wrapped her arms around her ribcage. Should she “accidentally” wake him and ask what was going on? That wouldn’t be nice. He’d had a rough day and he looked so peaceful in his bed. Where did that leave her? Joining him didn’t seem right. While they cozied up on the couch, and he’d joined her in her bed when she’d been sick, crawling into his bed seemed wrong. Well not wrong, but certainly not right.

  She yawned. Time to pick an option before she fell asleep standing up. Should she head back to the couch or go collapse on her own bed? Since the couch without Valmont was way less comfortable than her bed, she went into her room and crawled under the cool sheets.

  The sound of the alarm had her groaning and pulling the covers over her head. How could it be morning already? It had taken forever for her to fall back asleep and now she felt like crap. The sound of the piano shifted to the evil discordant melody meant to cause stress. She sat up and threw her pillow at the dresser.

  The alarm played on, mocking her.

  “Damn it.” She climbed out of bed and whacked the top of the foul device.

  Hopefully, a shower would make her feel more alive. Twenty minutes later, she joined Valmont in the living room.

  He pointed at her feet. “Did you know you’re wearing two different color shoes?”

  She looked down. Sure enough, she had on one black shoe and one red. “Maybe I’m trying to start a new fashion trend.”

  He yawned. “I don’t care if you don’t. I just want coffee.”

  “Give me a minute.” She went back into her room, kicked off the red shoe, and shoved her foot into the matching black pump. She gave herself a quick once over in the mirror to make sure she hadn’t screwed anything else up. Nope. She was good to go, but something was bothering her. She wanted to ask Valmont his reason for leaving her to wake up alone on the couch. Not that it meant anything, but he should bring it up at breakfast to make sure she wasn’t upset, right?

  “Ready?” Valmont asked when she rejoined him in the living room.

  Now would be the time to ask him about his defection, but he had dark circles under his eyes which matched her own. Without a word, she walked over and threw her arms around him in a hug. With no hesitation, he hugged her back. Being in his arms made her feel safe. She enjoyed the warmth for a moment, and then stepped away from him so she could see his face. “Why’d you jump ship last night?”

  “I woke up at two, and then I couldn’t go back to sleep. I didn’t want to wake you, so I went into my bedroom and read for a while until I finally fell back asleep.”

  “Good. I thought maybe I snored and drove you away.”

  “Now that you mention it,” Valmont teased.

  Good mood restored, she smiled and headed for the door. “Come on. My coffee needs me.”

  She’d barely sat down with her breakfast when Garret approached her table. Before he could say anything, she held up her coffee cup. “Fair warning, I’m only on my first cup of coffee.”

  “So I should speak slowly and use small words?” Garret asked.

  “Yes,” Valmont, Bryn, Clint, and Ivy all chimed in at the same time.

  “Okay then. I want to test my prosthetic wing this evening before dinner. Can you help me?”

  “Yes. Where do you want to meet?”

  “The stadium should give us plenty of room to maneuver.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  There was a much smaller crowd in the stadium that evening than there had been when Garret had timed Bryn’s flight at the beginning of the school year, which had turned into the race where she’d beaten Jaxon. Now, there were less than a dozen people. Most of them were Greens. Rhianna sat off to the side with some of the other “walking-wounded” as Garret referred to students who had been injured in the attacks. While there were several representatives from the Black, Green, and Red clans, Rhianna was the only Blue.

  Garret waved Bryn over to where the prosthetic wing lay on the ground. “Let me show you how this will work.” He pointed at the fabric panels. “I’ll slide my wing between the panels. Once it’s strapped in place, the buckle will form a handle which you can grab from above if something goes wrong.”

  “I can do that,” Bryn said. “Where will you take off from?”

  “I have dual ideas on how it might work. One, I could climb up to the top of the bleachers and jump from there, or you could lift me up and then let me glide away.”

  “Let’s try the bleachers first,” Bryn said.

  “My only concern is I’m not sure how the landing will go,” Garret said. “And since landings aren’t your strong suit, I’m not sure how much help you’ll be.”

  “I have no valid argument against that statement,” Bryn said. “So why don’t I swoop in and grab the handle to help you stay upright when you land. I can tread air above you.”

  “That should work.” Garret shifted into his dragon form.

  Bryn barely suppressed a gasp. She knew hailstones had ripped through his wing, causing irreparable damage, but the sight of his mangled wing was worse than she’d imagined. Ragged holes had developed scar tissue causing strange lumps in the membrane. She forced herself to blink and look away. Freaking out in front of Garret would be beyond rude, so she plastered on an interested expression and focused on the prosthetic device.

  Two Greens in human form slid Garret’s wing between the twin fabric panels and then
they wrapped the wide leather strap around his abdomen and buckled it in place. It was now or never. She jogged up to the top of the bleachers with Valmont by her side and then shifted. Once she was in dragon form, Valmont climbed onto her back, and she felt the familiar rush of warmth and power through their bond.

  Garret awkwardly made his way up the bleachers with his good wing extended to balance out the other wing. When he reached the top, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Was he afraid the wing wouldn’t work? She prayed to any higher power who might be listening that the prosthetic would give back Garret’s ability to fly.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  Garret bent his legs and burst off the ground about five feet above the seats. He hung suspended for a few seconds before gliding a dozen feet. Bryn took to the air, hanging back to give him room. Something wasn’t working right. He dropped to the seats too quickly. She swooped in and grabbed the handle with her talons, lifting his weight until he was twenty feet above the seats.

  “Thank you. It’s on to plan B. Let’s try again from here,” Garret said.

  She released him and this time he managed to glide, tilting his body. He flew in a circle, maintaining his height. She followed along behind him looking for any sign of trouble, but once he had the hang of maneuvering, he stayed aloft. After every maneuver, he drifted lower and lower. When he was within a few feet of the ground, Bryn swooped in and grabbed the handle slowing her flight until she was flying in place, and then she released him, allowing him to drop the last few feet to the ground. She slowed her wings, dropping to the ground in the same manner, and then she moved around so she could see Garret’s face. Tears rolled down his snout.

  “Those are happy tears, right?”

  Garret nodded yes.

  “Want to do it again?” Bryn asked.

  “Yes.”

  After three more flights, each a little better than the last, Garret suggested they stop for dinner.

  Valmont and Bryn unbuckled the wing and removed it so Garret could shift to human form. There was a light to Garret’s eyes she hadn’t seen since his injury. “It feels like I got part of my soul back.”

  Bryn hugged him. “I’m so happy for you.”

  He froze for a second and then hugged her back with his good arm. “Thank you.”

  She released him, and her stomach growled. “On that note, I think it’s time for dinner. Let me know when you want to fly again.”

  “I’m going to make a few modifications,” Garret said, “and then we’ll set up more trials.”

  When they were far enough away so no one would overhear, Bryn said, “I’m so glad that worked.”

  “Me, too. He didn’t deserve what happened to him,” Valmont said. “Nobody deserves that, but he was an innocent bystander.”

  “I know, and his wing…after seeing it…I really want to find the Rebels and shut them down.”

  “I’ve been wanting to ask something but couldn’t ever think of a polite way to do it… Why is it that Rhianna’s wing injury affected her leg while Garret’s affected his arm?”

  “When I first flew here with Garret and then shifted to human form, I complained my legs were tired. It felt like I’d run a marathon. He said the brain interprets fatigue from the dragon form and assigns it to the human body and most dragons interpret wing fatigue as soreness in the lower extremities. For about ten percent of the population, it’s the upper extremities. They don’t know why it varies.”

  “I guess he’s lucky he’s one of the ten percent, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to walk.”

  At dinner, in between bites of her cheeseburger, Bryn told Clint and Ivy about Garret’s progress with the wing.

  “Thank goodness,” Ivy said. “Not being able to fly is the stuff my nightmares are made of.”

  Clint snagged a French fry off of Ivy’s plate. “I still don’t know what the Rebels hoped to accomplish by attacking students.”

  “Me, neither,” Bryn said. “Now it seems their attacks are more specific. It’s almost like they’re looking for something.”

  “I never thought about it that way,” Clint said. “Big picture, I guess it’s good they moved from random terrorism to specifically looking for artifacts.”

  “I think you’re right,” Valmont said, “But it makes me wonder what they are hoping to find. Are there weapons of mass destruction hidden somewhere on campus?”

  “That’s a disturbing thought,” said Bryn.

  “And with all the hidden rooms in the vaults under the library, you never know what you’re going to find,” Clint said.

  “I wonder if Miss Enid was able to decipher the ledger she found in the Blue room and figure out what was taken,” Ivy said.

  “Good question. Maybe we should visit the library tonight after dinner.”

  …

  “What are you four up to?” Miss Enid asked from her usual spot at the front desk of the library.

  “We were wondering if you’d found anything interesting in those ledgers,” Bryn said.

  “So far, we’ve used the ledger from the Blue hall to check the inventory of the armory. Most of the weapons seem to be in their assigned spaces.”

  “Most?” Valmont asked. “What’s missing?”

  “Half a dozen broadswords and a few battle axes,” Miss Enid said. “But we have no way of knowing if they were taken recently, or if they’ve been missing for decades. Since the rooms are airtight and dust free there’s no physical evidence to give us a clue.”

  “What about the chest that was dragged from the other room?” Bryn asked.

  “There isn’t much information about what was stored in it although there are some references to crowns which doesn’t make much sense.”

  This could be bad. “Tyrant’s crowns?” Bryn asked.

  Miss Enid sucked in a breath. “I didn’t make that connection, but you could be right.”

  “What’s a tyrant’s crown?” Ivy asked.

  “Do you remember what Rhianna tried on?” Bryn asked not wanting to go into too much detail.

  “The anti-shifting device?” Clint asked.

  Bryn nodded. “And a chest full of those could cause all sorts of trouble.”

  “Which is why I will be contacting your grandfather immediately about this,” Miss Enid said.

  …

  The rest of the school week flew by without any traumatizing events. Friday after their last class, Bryn, Valmont, Clint, and Ivy sat on the grass in the quad next to one of the few trees that had survived the Rebel attacks last semester.

  Bryn inhaled and sighed in satisfaction. The fresh green new-growth smell was like a soothing balm. “I don’t care what we do tonight as long as it’s outside.”

  Valmont leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the leaves in the tree. “I think we should build a tree house.”

  “I’m game,” Clint said. “But I’m not sure the Directorate will approve.”

  “And I’m not sure where the nearest hardware store is,” Bryn said.

  “I didn’t say it was a practical idea.” Valmont pointed up into the tree. “See where the branches fork right there? That’s the perfect spot for a tree house.”

  “I had a tree house when I was little,” Ivy said. “Until someone set it on fire.” She looked pointedly at Clint.

  Bryn laughed. “I sense there’s a story that goes along with this disaster.”

  “A tale of love gone wrong,” Clint said. “I was seven, and even back then I was trying to win Ivy’s heart. So, I set up a candlelit lunch for two, complete with Little Debbie snack cakes and fruit roll ups. And I lit the candle before I went to knock on her door because I wanted everything to be perfect. Only she wasn’t home, so I decided to go ride my bike, forgetting about the candle.”

  “By the time I came home from the zoo,” Ivy continued, “the firemen were at my house. You should have seen Clint being brave and confessing what he’d done.”

  “Honesty is always the best pol
icy,” Valmont said. “So did you forgive him?”

  “I was mad for about a week, but I got over it.” Ivy reached over and ruffled Clint’s Mohawk.

  “I never had a tree house,” Bryn said, “because we never had a yard.” She eyed the branches above her. “We could build a platform of ice up there and pretend it’s a tree house.”

  “That might hurt the tree,” Ivy said. “Tell you what. After Clint and I are married, you and Valmont can come help us build a tree house in our backyard.”

  And there it was again, the easy certainty of Clint and Ivy’s future. They’d marry and live in a three-bedroom house near their families. After awhile, they’d have children who’d grow up and attend the Institute and the cycle would continue. Nothing about her own future seemed certain or easy.

  If her grandparents had their way, she’d marry Jaxon. It wouldn’t be a real marriage. Any children they might have would be created through artificial means, no nakedness involved. Still…she had always assumed that one day she’d fall in love with a guy like Valmont, move into a middle class subdivision and have a typical life. Instead, she’d live a lie in a ginormous mansion where she probably wouldn’t be allowed to build a tree house, even if she wanted one.

  “Do you think Blues build mini-mansions in trees for their kids?” Bryn asked.

  “Probably not,” Ivy said. “But you can come play in ours.”

  Bryn lay back in the grass. “I’m having one of those, who-kidnapped-my-life? moments. So excuse me, while I have a small pity party.”

  “I’ll be there for you,” Valmont said. “No matter what. Remember that.”

  What would she do without Valmont? He was her link to a normal life. “You’re the best knight ever.”

  “Why are you laying in the grass?” Jaxon’s voice preceded him as he walked toward her.

  Bryn sat up. “We’re making plans for a tree house. What’s up?”

  “Why would anyone want a tiny house in a tree?” Jaxon asked. “It makes no sense.”

  “Then you aren’t invited to play in mine when I finally have the chance to build one.”

  “Imagine my devastation,” Jaxon shot back.