Amáne of Teravinea - The Chosen One (The Teravinea Series Book 1)

by D. Maria Trimble

  Then Eshshah turned to Gallen and put her nose on his chest. He reached up and scratched her between her eyes as she hummed her pleasure.

  Recovering from her unaccustomed emotional demonstration, the Healer gathered herself and turned to me.

  “May I have permission to speak with your dragon?” she asked.

  “You don’t need to ask for permission, you can speak to her any time you like — Eshshah agrees. She already explained to me the age-old formalities of asking permission from a rider to speak with their dragon. Truthfully, I find it archaic, but you have our permission from now on.”

  With eyebrows raised in reaction to my dismissive attitude on etiquette, the Healer turned to Eshshah, “Eshshah, your beauty far surpasses Amáne’s description. She was correct when she said she couldn’t begin to describe you. It is my pleasure to meet you. I’ve waited for this moment for a long time.”

  Gallen expressed a similar greeting. Eshshah acknowledged them both with a nod, pleased at their salutations.

  She beckoned us to follow her to the back of the long courtyard. This part of her home was built right up to the mountainside — where the building ended, the solid rock of the mountain began. We stopped and the Healer revealed a large dragon-sized door in the wall of her house-proper, before it joined the rock. It was hidden from any that didn’t know where to look. She opened it outwards with ease and we found ourselves in a great hallway, the left leading to the Healer’s living quarters and the familiar kitchen. The right at first appeared to be a solid wall, but she unlatched another large hidden door that led straight into the mountain. We found ourselves in a sizable cavern that was hewn in a similar way to the outpost, only much less lavish. No intricately inlaid floor, no tapestries, only clean smooth rock underfoot and on the walls. Various rugs covered the floor. Bright torches on the walls in decorative iron sconces threw their dancing light on our surroundings.

  The chamber contained simple, yet beautiful, wood furniture. Chairs, a couch with plush cushions, a table and stools made up the sparse decor. There was a large indentation in the floor in the corner for Eshshah. Next to it, a feather mattress on a carved wooden platform. Above it, heavy cloth draperies hung from a frame that suspended from the ceiling of the cave. A hearth took up the corner of the room.

  “I’ve had this prepared for a very long time, anticipating this moment. I would like to offer this part of my home to you both.”

  I swallowed, unable to speak. The Healer had prepared a home for dragon and rider, knowing she would see her patience rewarded. I wiped the new tears from my eyes.

  Clearing my throat, “We appreciate your hospitality, Healer. Thank you.”

  “Tomorrow we begin your training, Amáne and Eshshah. I will be your trainer.” This took me by surprise, but she disregarded my reaction and continued, “We have lost already more than a week from your linking and I need to make sure you two proceed in the proper direction. I’m sorry, but there will be no more time for leisure. I’ll find you a clean night dress and some clothing until you can go back to your cottage and gather more of your things. This is now your home. You can choose to sleep in here, Amáne, or I have a room I can make up for you at the main house if you prefer.”

  “Thank you, Healer. I’ll stay here with Eshshah.” Since our linking, I’d never spent a night at any distance from her and had no desire to now.

  The Healer nodded her approval as if her question were a test I had passed.

  I went to bed that night contemplating the incredible direction in which my life had turned. In no time, my exhaustion overcame me — what a long day this had been. I fell asleep before I could finish reviewing my day.

  The sun had not yet risen when I decided I could no longer lay in bed, feigning sleep. It was the first day of our training. I was tangled in my bed covers from my fitful night, but it was from excitement. My sleep was absent the usual nightmares. I kicked myself free, ready to prepare for my day.

  After giving Eshshah a morning hug, I dressed in the tights and tunic the Healer left out for me. They fit me surprisingly well. I attached my new dagger to my belt and headed down the long hall toward the kitchen to find the Healer. She wasn’t there. The kitchen was empty but still warm, and the aroma of freshly baked bread filled the room. I helped myself to a piece, along with a mug of tea. As I rushed to eat, Gallen came in and informed me the Healer was waiting for me at the barn.

  I crossed the courtyard where Eshshah had landed last night, and made my way across the field. There I found the Healer in the barn inspecting several unsharpened training swords of different sizes and styles. She was dressed in a tunic and tights. This was the first time I had seen her in anything other than her loose gown and surcoat. Her hair hung in a long braid down her back instead of tucked in her usual cap. I had never noticed how striking she was. She must have been a beauty in her younger days.

  “Good morning, Amáne. Today starts your training, and let me warn you it will be intense. You’ve crossed into a new life as dragon rider. There’s much for you to learn and little time. You two have been thrown into a conflict you cannot understand yet, but for which you must be prepared. For now you must think of me not as your friend, but as your trainer — it’ll make it easier for you.” She didn’t explain what she meant, but continued to examine the swords and finally chose three and set them aside.

  Behind her were suits of armor in various sizes. “You’ll need your own armor made for you at a later time, but it’s not necessary just yet. This will do for your practice.”

  She chose a helmet, handed it to me and asked me to try it on. I didn’t realize how heavy a helmet actually was. I suppose it would have to be, to withstand the force of someone swinging at you with a deadly weapon. My experience with swordplay was such that I never fully grasped the reality. I grew up sparring with my acquaintance, Kail, because I enjoyed the power, the choreography and the thrill of it. When Kail and I practiced, I didn’t process the fact that a sword was, in fact, a deadly weapon. That its use would quite likely result in killing or maiming an opponent was a sudden, harsh realization.

  Next, she handed me a quilted tunic for padding under the armor, and then chose a suit of armor that was closest to my size. She named all the parts as she handed them to me and helped me put them on. Greaves, to protect my shins; poleyn for my knees; cuisses for my thighs; a breastplate to protect my torso; the pauldrons for my shoulders; rarebrace for the upper arm; couter for my elbows; the vambrace covered the lower arm; and then gauntlets for my hands. All of this metal felt very restrictive and heavy, not to mention hot as the morning warmed up. Lastly, she handed me a shield. I wasn’t accustomed to the extra weight, but she told me it was good to practice in full armor to build my strength.

  Eshshah came out to observe and support me. Finding a suitable spot in the sun, she curled up, put her head on her front legs, and followed me with her golden eyes. I looked at her with pride and admiration. The way the sun hit her scales made her look like she was on fire. I had a hard time taking my eyes off of her. She hummed with satisfaction.

  With my assistance, the Healer donned her armor, and then, without warning, she picked up one of the training swords, tossed it at me and said, “Let’s see what you can do with this.”

  Instinctively, I reached out and caught it by its hilt. I was pleased the extra weight of the armor only hampered my reactions slightly.

  “But, Healer,” I protested, “I’ve never used a metal sword. We only worked with wooden wasters.”

  She answered my complaint with a lunge, which I managed to parry. Without another word, my training began in earnest. After a series of lunges, which I parried weakly, she swung her sword overhead and threw a wrap shot bringing it around behind me. I read her intention — to work around my back since I had a shield to protect my front. She threw shots to get me to move my shield to defend, which made me work harder than her, conserving her energy and wearing me out. This worked quite nicely — for her.

&nbs
p; The noise of our weapons, shields and armor clashing created a din in the series of short bouts in which we engaged — each one lasting no more than a minute. I was no match for the Healer. As she continued her attacks, she shouted at me, “Correct your stance, Amáne! Bend your knees! I thought you used to practice with the grinder’s youngest boy. Have you learned nothing?”

  I understood she was testing me — pushing me to my limit, which to my shame, was very low.

  She feinted an attack to mislead me, and I fell for it. I paid for that mistake with a hit from the flat of her sword. The dust choked me, my legs burned, my arms began to get heavy and didn’t respond to what I asked of them. Still she continued. Her age deceived, because she was a formidable sword fighter — she showed no fatigue.

  Her lesson increased in intensity. I wasn’t prepared for this serious of instruction on my first day. I almost didn’t recognize her from the Healer who was my mother’s friend. I began to understand her warning, but I was still confused by her severity. Did I offend her and not realize it?

  “Stop telling me your next move, Amáne.”

  “I’m not!” I shouted back, my anger starting to build.

  “You are. I can tell when you drop that shoulder,” she whacked my left shoulder with the flat of her blade, “that you will be moving in this direction. You might as well shout it.”

  She baited me, throwing the same shot to the same place two or three times and then hit me from another direction as I automatically defended the area she previously tried to hit.

  “Your anger is weakening you, Amáne. When you’re angry you cannot fight rationally. Control it, or you could make a deadly mistake.”

  “Eshshah, I need your help,” I said out loud.

  “No, Eshshah cannot assist you. This needs to be just you. We’ll work with her included later, but not now.”

  “This isn’t fair.” I complained. “You know I don’t have your skills and yet you’re not holding back.”

  “Fighting isn’t fair. And I am holding back. Keep your focus.”

  Try as I might, I couldn’t control my anger — I’d held it for as long as I could. Not allowing Eshshah to help made me snap. I lunged in at her, swinging wildly with a high shot to her head. I inadvertently lowered my shield, leaving my torso open. She ducked my swing and went for my undefended side catching me square in the ribs in the one spot where my armor was weak. I crumbled to the dirt clutching my side trying to fill my emptied lungs. When I finally caught my breath, the pain was worse — it felt like she had run me through. I looked at my hand but there was no blood.

  “I think you broke my rib,” I said between raspy breaths.

  “Now Eshshah can aid you. We don’t want any broken bones.” She didn’t even sound sorry. What did I do wrong since yesterday that she seemed so angry with me?

  Eshshah hurried to my side and put her nose on my ribs. She breathed her warm healing power and relief washed over me. My breath came in more evenly.

  “Get up, Amáne. One more bout and then you can go to the kitchen and have your meal. I need to leave on business. Gallen will work with you the second part of the day.”

  She didn’t ease up for the last bout.

  When I removed my armor and the quilted jacket, my clothes underneath were dripping with sweat. There was not one dry spot, but I didn’t care. I stumbled to the laver outside the kitchen, washed my face and my arms and dunked my head under the cooling water.

  Exhausted, I dragged myself to the kitchen. Gallen sat at the table eating quietly. He mumbled an acknowledgement of my presence. I cut a piece of salt pork and some cheese from the wheel, tore off some bread, then took my place across from him. I started eating just as silently. Finally, cooling off both physically and emotionally, I cleared my head enough to review my errors and the new skills I learned that morning. I also tried to determine if there was something I said or did to make the Healer unhappy with me.

  The Healer came in before leaving for her obligations and said, “It will be late when I return tonight, but before I leave, Amáne, it’s time you knew this truth, since you will be learning dragon skills from him. You have a formidable teacher in Gallen as his true identity is Kaelem, rider of the late Gyan.” Then she left the room.

  My knife clattered to the floor. I choked on the bite I had just taken as I leapt to my feet. My eyes couldn’t get any wider. Coughing and sputtering, I saluted him. He nodded and saluted back, then turned his attention again to his meal. I remained riveted as I tried to catch my breath. I had known Gallen as far back as I could remember. In my childish fantasies I disclosed to my mother I was going to marry him. Then as I grew older, he became my father figure — my substitute for the father I never knew. His kindness meant so much to me. This revelation staggered me.

  “I’m the same person you’ve known all your life.” He sounded amused. “Sit down, Amáne. Finish your meal and stop staring at me.”

  “Oh, sorry, Gallen ... I mean Kaelem.”

  “Call me Gallen. I’m no longer Kaelem.” A dark shadow dulled his blue eyes for a brief moment.

  I couldn’t respond — my mind reeled. A dragon rider in Dorsal. Right under my nose, and I never suspected, even though he was a personal friend of my mother and myself. Who would have known? I called to mind the ballads I had learned but couldn’t recall ever learning his story, or how his dragon had passed on. I told myself I would have to do some research. It must have been an unbearable nightmare. One that I never wanted to face. A great sadness began to overwhelm me as I put myself in his place and the thought of ever losing Eshshah.

  “Eshshah.” I said out loud, just needing to hear her ‘voice’ inside my head.

  Gallen said nothing and politely ignored that I spoke to my dragon out loud.

  “I’m here, Amáne. Try to control your emotions. It would not do well to break down here and now in front of Gallen.” She hummed her calming sound.

  “Thank you, Eshshah.” I voiced.

  Gallen interrupted, “You’ll need to break that habit. It’s not wise to always speak to your dragon out loud. When you’re alone with her or you need to convey a message from someone to her, then it is acceptable, but at no other time is it necessary. It could result in unpleasant or even dangerous situations for you.”

  “I’ll work on it, Gallen.”

  We finished eating. He directed me to the courtyard and asked me to have Eshshah meet us there. He was going to work with us as a pair. Still in shock over Gallen being a dragon rider — the first one I had ever met — my eyes were fixed on him as we headed outside.

  “Stop staring at me, Amáne.”

  “Sorry.”

  In the courtyard, Gallen brought out three different types of saddles on saddle stands. He proceeded to explain the differences.

  “This first saddle, the smallest of the three, is made to be used in battle. The seat is compact and lightweight. The restraining straps are at the boot pegs. The strap goes over and behind your boot. This gives you full movement during battle. You can stand up completely and twist but still be secure, even in quick maneuvers. The second saddle has a bit larger seat and the restraining straps are at the calf level. It’s mostly used for tournament flying and at Faires where you want to execute showy maneuvers — more secure than the fighting saddle, yet it will still allow you to stand up. Lastly, we have this larger saddle.”

  It was similar to the one we used to fly back from the Dorsal outpost.

  Gallen continued, “It’s a basic everyday saddle as well as for long distance use. Larger seat and high back for more comfort, thigh belt for maximum security on longer flights. No fear of losing your seat if you doze off in flight.” I wondered how anyone could doze off in flight, but I kept my thoughts to myself ... and Eshshah.

  He taught me the proper way to secure each of the three saddles on Eshshah. Then he had me run through drills. I started at one end of the courtyard, grabbed a saddle, ran it to the other end where Eshshah waited, threw it on her and
fastened it as fast as I could. The larger one was no problem. We were familiar with that one already, but I had a lot of trouble with the battle one. Its leather ties and straps were thinner and I kept getting tangled in them. He explained that when this one was used, I would need to place Eshshah’s chest armor on first and then the fighting saddle. He didn’t want to spend much time on this one as he didn’t anticipate any battles in the near future.

  After the saddle drills, he had me leave the larger one on. We moved next to instruction on different mounting techniques.

  “First, show me how you usually mount up.”

  We showed him how Eshshah bends her foreleg for me to climb up. I jumped my left leg to the foot peg, and threw my right leg over the back of the saddle as I pulled myself up. The distance I had to jump seemed to change often as her size increased daily — although it seemed to be slowing down a bit. Gallen nodded, satisfied with our technique. He went on to explain it was necessary to know many different mounts from different directions. I might find myself in a situation where I was being chased and Eshshah would need to be prepared to spring the second I hit the saddle. It would not be practical for her to have to help me up with her foreleg.

  “Let’s start with the tail mount. May I?”

  “Of course.” I granted him permission to speak directly to Eshshah.

  “Thank you. Now, Eshshah, please face the barn and take the preflight position like you’re ready to spring, but extend your tail straight back. Amáne, you need to run up her tail, continue on her back and jump into the saddle prepared to take off. Unfortunately, we can’t do the full training now in daylight. You can’t be spotted flying. But if she were to take off, it would be the second you hit the saddle. You buckle yourself in as she takes her first downstroke. Now, let’s try it.”

  “Wait. You want me to run up her tail? She has ridges all the way up to her back.” Her ridges started small above the barb at the end of her tail, increased in size as they reached her haunches, and then decreased to just before her shoulders. At that point her ridges became smooth bumps until higher on her neck, where they grew larger again, then decreased as they reached the top of her head.