The Dragoneer: Book 1: The Bonding

by Vickie Knestaut

  “You’ve had quite a day,” her father said as he passed through the receiving room and entered her den.

  Trysten nodded, then rubbed her hands over her face. “I’m up for the challenge,” she said as her hands dropped to her lap. Her gaze flitted down to the log again, to her neat script below her father’s.

  “That’s good,” Mardoc said as he approached the chair on the other side of the table. “Because you are indeed in for a challenge.”

  Trysten leaned forward and placed her elbows upon the edge of the table. “I’m not afraid of the Western Kingdom. We have good dragons, and a large horde now. We will turn them back should they show their faces in our skies.”

  Mardoc let out a little noise just before he dropped himself into the chair. It could have been a grunt, a start of a laugh, or some note of derision. “It’s not the Western Kingdom that will challenge you. I have no doubt at all that you will win the day when the Western Kingdom comes, and they will come. It is the threat from the kingdom in the east that you should worry about.”

  Trysten swallowed, as if to clamp down on the sudden skittering of her heart. She knew what he was speaking of, yet she asked the question all the same. “What threat is that?”

  “I just returned from the livery stable. Nillard and his man traded a bow, a quiver of arrows, and a very finely crafted dagger for two mules and some supplies. They’ve already begun making their way to the mother city.”

  “What of it?” Trysten asked, then averted her gaze to the top of the table. Her voice had betrayed her, high and tight and full of concern over what they would bring.

  “Come now,” Mardoc said after a small grunt. “I raised no fool. You know as well as I do that Nillard is off to tell the King about the weyr that took his horde, and is commanded by a woman as well.”

  Trysten shook her head. “I had every right. It’s the law.” She nodded to the books above them. “He brought an absconded horde here. The dragons chose Elevera. There was nothing—”

  “That law you are referring to also excludes you from being a dragoneer.”

  Trysten let out a long, low breath as she stared at the names in the ledger. Was the ink dry yet? If she ran her fingertips across the bold, black strokes, would they smudge? Or was it already fast, not to be altered. Not to be taken away.

  Unless the page was ripped from the book, as perhaps it had been when it had recorded the presence of the first female Dragoneer, as she was beginning to suspect.

  Trysten sat back against her chair. “What do you think will happen?”

  Her father’s gaze fell to the ledger as well. He gave his shoulders a slight shrug. “I have no idea. There has never been a situation like this before. It’s good that you sent a courier upon Ulbeg. At least when Nillard makes it to the mother city, his news will be old. He will have a greater chance of appearing before the King as a sore loser. But he also might find an audience who will buy his story of nobility, of how he humiliated himself, how he lowered himself and rode into the mother city, a hordesman upon the back of a mule, rather than break the law he has sworn his life to defend.”

  “What can they do? Elevera has chosen. I am the Dragoneer.”

  Mardoc tapped his staff upon the floor. “I heard a story once. I was a young man, still riding for my grandfather. He took me with him to the mother city for business with the Dragon Master. One night in a tavern frequented by hordesmen from around the kingdom, I heard a tale of a weyr on the northern shore, along the great sea. Their alpha dragon was caught in a storm. The winds blew it away from the shore and thrashed the strength from it. It fell to the sea and drowned, taking the weyr’s dragoneer with it. The man set to be the new Dragoneer, the man who rode the beta dragon, was overthrown by another hordesman who managed to bond with the beta despite not being its regular rider. The weyr honored the wishes of the new alpha and made this man the Dragoneer. But his heart was wicked, and he had no loyalty to anything. Not to his horde, his village, or his kingdom. He used his power to threaten the villagers, to amass wealth. Fishermen had to pay excessive taxes directly to him, or he would not allow their boats upon the sea.”

  “How could—” Trysten began.

  Mardoc held up his hand. “The other hordesmen wished to stop him. They knew what he was doing was wrong, but their mounts would not fly against the alpha. They turned on their riders, ignoring them in the best cases, and killing them in the worst. New hordesmen were selected from the village to replace those who would stand against the crooked Dragoneer. They became a force of terror along the northern shore that ran unopposed until the Dragoneer’s greed began to extend to neighboring villages. Finally, word made it to the Dragon Master of what was happening. The King sent several of his hordes north to rendezvous with local hordes. Together, they descended upon the village and destroyed the weyr, killing the Dragoneer, the commander, and all of the dragons.”

  Trysten’s eyes widened. “All?”

  Mardoc nodded. “Every once in a while, there comes along someone who has the ability to know the heart and mind of a dragon. This person is said to be able to speak to the dragons, to know at a glance what they are thinking and to impart upon the dragons what is in their hearts. These people are called Dragon Lords. They are especially feared in the kingdom because of examples like this. Someone who can control a dragon horde so easily and so completely presents a grave threat to the kingdom.”

  Trysten turned her gaze to the book. If she could, she would crawl beneath it, push herself down below the table, through the floor, beyond the straw and dirt beneath them.

  “When the King gets word of a Dragon Lord in the Western Kingdom, he will feel threatened. It took several hordes to destroy this one, for a single horde is no match for a horde commanded by a Dragon Lord, and already the Western Kingdom has destroyed the King’s southwestern most outpost. He will feel threatened. So when word of a female dragoneer reaches his ears a couple weeks later, he may feel compelled to react in a rash manner. I have never heard of a woman bonding with a dragon before. I must admit that if the King begins to look for his enemies behind every cloud, then he may see them whether they are there or not. Not only have you done what no woman has done before you, your command of the horde is quite exceptional, Trysten. It is unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

  Trysten gripped the edge of the table to keep herself from reaching forward, from running the tips of her fingers across the text she had so recently drawn. She wanted to know it was dry, that it was immutable, that it would never and could never be changed.

  “Trysten?”

  She glanced up at her father. Her lungs felt tight, as if she had to suck her breath through a narrow reed.

  “Do you understand the threat you are facing?”

  Her gaze dropped to the ledger again. She gave a single, simple nod.

  Mardoc shifted in his seat, pushed himself up with his staff. “Someone will come here seeking answers. I very much doubt that it will be the King himself, or even the Dragon Master, as Aerona is certainly a dangerous place to be all of the sudden. But the King will send a representative to see for himself what history is being made here. He will be seeking an explanation. What will you tell him?”

  Trysten swallowed. “About what?”

  “About your position. Why are you the Dragoneer?”

  “Because Elevera chose me.”

  Her father shook his head as if disappointed. “I raised no fool. You know what I mean. Why are you the Dragoneer?”

  Trysten pushed herself away from the table and stood as she had seen her father do before when presented with a tough choice. She stepped over to the window and looked out over the village. The warped glass hid most everything from her. The light of a few lanterns made it through the windows of cottages and then into the window of her den. The light seemed like such a feeble thing, as if she might cup her palm and place it over the light and snuff it out.

  She drew in a deep breath. Now was the time to tell her father.


  She turned away from the window, and as she opened her mouth to speak, her father pushed himself to standing with the staff. “Someone is coming.”

  A knock announced another visitor.

  “Come in,” Trysten called before the echo died away.

  The door cracked open. Paege poked his head into the room. “Am I interrupting?”

  Trysten inhaled a deep sigh of relief, then shook her head. “No. No, nothing at all. We were just… talking. What can I do for you?”

  “I can come back,” Paege said as he glanced between Trysten and her father.

  “Nonsense,” Mardoc said. “You two have a weyr to run and far more of a horde than I ever did. You can excuse an old man and his silly stories.” He turned back at Trysten, held her gaze for a second, and then hobbled out of the den.

  As the door shut behind him, Trysten fell into her seat. Her muscles felt like worn-out rope. As Paege began to tell her of the accommodations made for the newest hordesmen, Trysten’s gaze anchored on the ledger and the neat rows of names she had recorded.

  Chapter 36

  Trysten knocked on the door, and a moment later, Galelin opened it.

  “Ah, come for my report on the new dragons, have you? My! You are more eager even than your father ever was.”

  Trysten’s practiced excuse for her visit fell away. She grinned. “You caught me. I’m sorry.” She glanced about beyond him. The interior of the cottage was as bookish and impressive as it was the last time she was inside. “I hope I’m not an imposition.”

  “Certainly not!” Galelin said, then opened the door and waved Trysten in. “An imposition would be if you summoned me to your den for the report as your father would have. If you come here for it, you save an old man a walk, and you grant him the extra favor of making a cup of tea for himself and his honored guest. Can I get you a cup of tea?” Galelin asked as he approached the fire.

  “That would be nice. Thank you.”

  “Well,” Galelin said as he pulled his kettle from the hob, “I’m pleased to report that the newest additions to the family are in good shape. There are a number of battle wounds to attend to. Nothing serious. Puncture wounds. A torn aerial membrane. It’s nothing that can’t be mended. I’d like to keep that brown dragon… What was it called?”

  “Quella.”

  “Quella. That’s right. Unusual name for a dragon, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose so. They’re not from around here, though.”

  “Well, Hollin isn’t…” Galelin stopped in the midst of scooping tea into a pot. His hand trembled a bit. “Or rather, it wasn’t that far away.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Hmm? Yes. Where were we?” Galelin asked. “Oh, dear me. I lost count. Confound it!” The old dragon healer dumped the tea leaves out of his pot and back into the canister he had scooped them out of. He began again.

  “As I was saying, that Quella ought to remain on the ground for a few days. I noticed some swelling along the right angelic muscle. I think she may have strained her wing. I want to keep an eye on her.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” Trysten said. “I will make sure it is addressed.”

  “Well, then, that is all there was to my report. There is nothing left but to drink the tea, is there?” He poured steaming water from his kettle. Trysten took a seat at a table and refrained from picking at her nails while Galelin took the kettle back to the hob, then approached the table again and poured two cups from the pot. He handed one to her.

  “I was filling out the ledger this evening, adding the names of the new dragons and hordesmen, and I was wondering if there had ever been a female dragoneer before.”

  Galelin regarded her a moment, and then lifted his cup to his lips. He blew across the surface. Steam rolled away from his breath and evaporated into the cold, dry air. “You know as well as I do that dragons don’t bond with women.”

  Trysten lifted an eyebrow.

  Galelin grinned over his cup of tea.

  Trysten studied the old man and continued. “If it simply was a matter of women not being able to bond with dragons, then why is it forbidden by law? Why make a law to forbid something that cannot happen?”

  Galelin sipped his tea. When he drew the cup away, his grin stretched wider. “You are a very clever girl, aren’t you? Sharper than your father, even, who is sharper than any ax.”

  “Thank you,” Trysten said as she cupped her hands around the tea. The warmth seeped into her palms and fingers. “But that compliment is no answer. Can I order you to tell me? To tell me the truth?”

  Galelin nodded. “I am a member of the weyr, am I not? Unless you got another healer from the Hollin weyr?”

  “Tell me the truth, Galelin. Was there ever another female dragoneer?”

  Galelin placed his cup upon the table and stared down into it. Steam rose from the surface and dissipated, and Galelin continued to stare at it as if he expected the answer to bloom from it like a flower.

  “The truth, dear, is that I don’t rightly know what the truth is.”

  Trysten sipped at her tea. “What do you know, then?”

  “I know that you have a good point, and a keen mind. Why indeed forbid something that cannot possibly be? It seems to suggest that there was a female dragoneer at some point in time. There had to be one in order for some long-dead king to decide that it wasn’t a good idea, that it should never happen again.”

  “In all your studies, have you come across something that might suggest who it was, and why she was… Why there have been no more up until now?”

  Galelin shrugged. He considered his tea for a moment more, then took another drink. “Well, there is the tale of Adalina.”

  “Adalina?”

  “Oh, it’s an old folk tale. It’s legend. There’s about as much truth to it as there is to any of the wild stories about the Originals.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I thought you wanted to know the truth?”

  “Tell me.”

  “Very well.” Galelin took a deep breath, then let it out as a sigh. He opened his mouth again, and then took a sip of tea. “You know the stories of the Originals, right? About how the gods grew to fear them, and so split them into men and dragons and destroyed the heavens in the process.”

  Trysten nodded.

  “Well, there is a story that not all of the Originals were destroyed. A few escaped the wrath of the gods by hiding in a clever spot that is a whole other story unto itself. Needless to say, that after the destruction of the heavens, the remaining Originals sought to rebuild them. But the destruction was so complete that they soon lost all hope that they could do it by themselves. A few of the Originals decided that the best way to proceed would be to take mates among the human women. The idea of mating with a lower form of life was repugnant to the Originals, but a couple of them were desperate to raise an army that could rebuild the heavens and throw the gods from the skies.”

  Galelin brought his tea to his lips, sipped, and seemed to consider the story, as if trying to draw the details up from a deep casket.

  “One of the Originals took the form of a handsome young warrior, and he quickly seduced a young human woman. Before long, she bore a daughter and named her Adalina. Adalina grew up fast. She was fair, beautiful, strong and clever. The Original was quite pleased with his daughter, but being the offspring of an Original, she soon discovered that she could not only persuade her human counterparts with her charm and guile, but that she could also speak to the dragons and have them do her bidding as well.

  “Armed with her father’s abilities and her mother’s ambitions, it wasn’t long before Adalina married a king, and then had herself a kingdom. She led her armies into battle and soon reigned over a vast empire that stretched from one corner of the world to the other.

  “This caught the attention of the gods, however. They feared exactly what they discovered, that at least one of the Originals had escaped their wrath. So they brought destruction to the lands. Storms and fami
ne struck the empire. A plague rose up and swept the entire world, and those who contracted it were driven mad and spoke in tongues. Confusion spread across the land. Adalina’s empire fell. It shattered like a dropped plate, and each one of those fragments became one of the kingdoms that exist today, and the inhabitants of each kingdom speak the tongue of their plague, even us. That is why we cannot understand those in other kingdoms. It was all to bring an end to Adalina’s empire.”

  “And what of Adalina?” Trysten asked. “What happened to her?”

  Galelin shrugged. “She died. I’m sure of it. The gods would not have settled for anything less than her head.”

  “And that is why women are forbidden from becoming dragoneers?”

  Galelin shrugged again. “You must ask one of the chroniclers of the King’s court. I’m just an old dragon healer who has heard too many fanciful stories to know anything of value.”

  Trysten took a drink of her tea, then regarded Galelin again. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  Trysten’s eyes narrowed. “The Original. Did he have any more children?”

  Galelin shrugged his shoulders. “The story doesn’t say. But if you ask me, if a man—or at least a human man—is intent upon siring himself an army, then it doesn’t make much sense to stop with one child, does it?”

  “No. He’d want to have more. Many more. With a lot of different women, because he doesn’t want to wait for a year between each child.”

  “Indeed.”

  “And if he had a lot more, then there would be a chance that the gods missed them, that they didn’t get all of them, because the Original would know where to hide them, wouldn’t he? Because he hid from the gods the first time around.”

  Galelin nodded as he took a sip of tea.

  “So then, assuming that the story is true, then there are a lot of people who are descended from the Originals.”

  “Perhaps. Or maybe only a few survived. And furthermore, it seemed that if they themselves had children, then their Original blood would get watered down, diluted with humanity until there was little left.”