CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
October first is always Threshing.
Monday, Wednesday, or Sunday, it doesn’t matter where it falls on any
given year. On the first of October, the first-year cadets of the Riders
Quadrant enter the bowl-shaped forested valley to the southwest of the
citadel and pray they come out alive.
I will not die today.
I didn’t bother eating this morning, and I pity Ridoc, who’s currently
heaving up the contents of his stomach against a tree to my right.
A sword is strapped to Rhiannon’s back, the hilt jostling against her spine
as she bounces, stretching her arms across her chest one at a time.
“Remember to listen here,” Professor Kaori says from in front of the 147
of us here, tapping his chest. “If a dragon has already selected you, they’ll
be calling.” He thumps his chest again. “So pay attention to not just your
surroundings but your feelings, and go with them.” He grimaces. “And if
your feelings are telling you to go in the other direction…listen to that,
too.”
“Which one are you going for?” Rhiannon asks quietly.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head but can’t ditch the feeling of absolute
failure in my chest. At this point, Mira knew she wanted to seek out Teine.
“You memorized the cards, right?” she asks, lifting her brows. “So you
know what’s out there?”
“Yes. I just don’t feel connected to any of them.” Which is better than
feeling connected to a dragon another rider has their eye on. I have no
desire to fight to the death today. “Dain tried talking me into a brown.”
“Dain lost his vote when he tried talking you into leaving,” she counters.
There’s a lot of truth to that. I’ve only talked to him once in the past two
days since Presentation, and he tried to get me to run within the first five
minutes. We’ve only seen professors this morning, but I know the secondand third-year riders are scattered throughout this valley in order to observe.
“What about you?”
She grins. “I’m thinking about that green. The one closest to me when
they got all up close and personal with you.”
“Well, it didn’t eat you, so that’s a promising start.” I smile despite the
fear racing through my veins.
“I think so, too.” She links her arm with mine, and I focus back on what
Professor Kaori is telling us.
“If you go in groups, you’re more likely to be incinerated than bonded,”
Professor Kaori argues with someone near the center of the valley. “The
scribes have run the statistics. You’re better off on your own.”
“And what if we aren’t chosen by dinner?” a man with a short beard to
my left asks.
Looking past him, I catch Jack Barlowe running a finger across his neck
at me. So original. Then Oren and Tynan flank his sides.
So much for squad loyalty. It’s everyone for themselves today.
“If you’re not chosen by nightfall, there’s a problem,” Professor Kaori
responds, his thick mustache turned down at the ends. “You’ll be brought
out by a professor or senior leadership, so don’t give up and think we’ve
forgotten about you.” He checks his pocket watch. “Remember to spread
out and use every foot of this valley to your advantage. It’s nine, which
means they should be flying in any minute now. The only other words I
have for you are ‘good luck.’” He nods, sweeping his gaze over the crowd
of us with such intensity that I know he’ll be able to re-create this moment
in a projection.
Then he leaves, marching up the hill to our right and disappearing into
the trees.
My mind whirls. It’s time. I’ll either leave this forest as a rider…or likely
never leave.
“Be careful.” Rhiannon pulls me into a hug, her braids swinging over my
shoulder as she tightens her arms around me.
“You too.” I squeeze her back and am immediately swept into another
pair of arms.
“Don’t die,” Ridoc orders.
That’s our only goal as what’s left of our squad separates, each heading in
our own direction like we’ve been flung apart by centrifugal motion, at the
mercy of a spinning wheel.
…
Guessing by the position of the sun, it’s been at least a couple of hours since
the dragons flew overhead, landing in the valley in a succession that
sounded like thunder and making the earth shake.
I’ve come across two greens, a brown, four oranges, and—
My heart stumbles and my feet freeze to the forest floor as a red steps
into my field of vision, its head just under the canopy of enormous trees.
This is not my dragon. I’m not sure how I know, but I do.
I hold my breath, trying not to make a sound as its head sweeps right,
then left, and my gaze plummets to the ground as I bow my head.
For the last hour or so, I’ve seen dragons launch into the air with a cadet
—now a rider—on their back, but I’ve also seen more than a couple of
plumes of smoke, and I have no desire to be one of those.
The dragon huffs a breath, then continues along its path, its clubtail
flicking upward and catching one of the lower-hanging branches. The limb
falls to the ground with a monstrous crash, and only after the footsteps
recede do I finally raise my head.
I’ve now come across every color of dragon, and none of them has
spoken to me or given me the sense of connection we’re reportedly
supposed to feel.
My stomach sinks. What if I’m one of the cadets who’s destined to never
become a rider? One who’s thrown back time and again to restart first year
until eventually something puts me on the death roll? Has this all been for
nothing?
The thought is too heavy to carry.
Maybe if I could just see the valley, then I’d get a feeling like Professor
Kaori was talking about.
I spot the nearest climbable tree and get to work, scaling branch after
branch. Pain radiates from my hands, but I don’t let it distract me. The bark
catching the wraps that still cover my palms… Now that’s an annoyance
that makes me pause every few feet and pull the cloth free of the bark.
Pretty sure the higher branches aren’t going to support my weight, so I
stop about three-quarters to the top and survey the immediate area.
There are a few greens in plain sight to my left, standing out against the
fall foliage. Oddly enough, this is the one time of year when oranges,
browns, and reds have the highest chance of blending in. I watch the trees
for movement and spot a couple more directly south, but there’s no pull, no
aching need to head in that direction, which probably means those aren’t
mine, either.
Relief hits me embarrassingly hard when I count at least half a dozen
first-years wandering aimlessly. I shouldn’t be so happy that they haven’t
found their dragons, either, but at least I’m not the only one, which gives
me hope.
There’s a clearing to the north, and my eyes narrow as a flash, like a
mirror, catches the sun.
Or like a golden dragon.
Guess the little feathertail is still out here appeasing its curiosity. But I’m
apparently not going to find my dragon up a tree, so I climb down carefully
and as quietly as possible. My feet hit the ground just before voices
approach, and I tuck myself against the trunk to hide from being seen.
We’re not supposed to be in groups.
“I’m telling you, I think I saw it headed this way.” It’s a cocky voice I
immediately recognize as Tynan.
“You’d better be right, because if we just hiked all the way the fuck over
here just to find nothing, I’m going to run you through.” My stomach
twists. It’s Jack. No one else’s voice has that physical effect on me, not even
Xaden’s.
“You sure we shouldn’t be spending our time looking for our own
dragons instead of hunting the freak down?” Recognition tickles the edges
of my mind, but I lean out from my hiding place just to be sure. Yep, it’s
Oren.
I dart back behind the cover of the tree as the trio passes, each strapped
with a deadly sword. There are nine daggers tucked against my body in
various places, so it’s not like I’m unarmed, but I feel tragically
disadvantaged by my inability to wield a sword effectively. They’re just too
damned heavy.
Wait…what did they say they were doing? Hunting?
“It’s not like our dragons are going to bond other riders,” Jack snaps.
“They’ll wait for us. This has to be done. That scrawny one is going to get
someone killed. We have to take it out.”
Nausea swirls in my stomach, and my fingernails bite into my palms.
They’re going to try and kill the little golden one.
“If we get caught, we’re fucked,” Oren comments.
That’s an understatement. I can’t imagine dragons would take kindly to
killing one of their own, but they seem to be focused on culling the weak
from the herd in our species, so it’s not a stretch to imagine they do the
same with their own.
“Then you’d better shut your mouth so no one hears us,” Tynan counters,
his voice rising in that mocking tone that makes me want to punch him in
the face.
“It’s for the best,” Jack argues, his tone dropping. “It’s unrideable, a
certified freak, and you know feathertails are useless in combat. They refuse
to fight.” His voice fades as they walk farther away, headed north.
Toward the clearing.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath even though the assholes are out of
hearing range by now. No one knows anything about feathertails, so I don’t
know where Jack is getting his information, but I don’t have time to focus
on his assumptions right now.
I have no way of contacting Professor Kaori, and there hasn’t even been a
hint that the senior riders are watching us, so I can’t count on them to stop
this madness, either. The golden dragon should be able to breathe fire, but
what if it can’t?
There’s a chance they won’t find it, but… Shit, I can’t even convince
myself of that one. They’re headed the right way and that dragon is pretty
much a shiny beacon. They’ll find it.
My shoulders sag and I sigh at the sky, blowing out a frustrated breath.
I can’t just stand here and do nothing.
You can get there first and warn it.
Solid plan, and way better than option two, where I’d be forced to take on
three armed men with at least a combined two hundred pounds on me.
I keep my footsteps silent and race across the forest floor at a slightly
different angle than Jack’s little posse, thankful I grew up playing hide-andseek with Dain in the woods. This is one area of expertise I can confidently
claim.
They’ve got a head start on me, and the clearing is closer than I realized,
so I kick up my speed, my gaze darting between the leaf-covered path I’ve
chosen and where I think—scratch that, where I know they are toward the
left. I can make out their lumbering shapes in the distance.
I hear a pop, and the ground falls out from under me, then rushes for my
face. My hands fly out to brace myself a second before I slam into the forest
floor. I bite into my lower lip to keep from crying out as my ankle screams.
Popping isn’t good. It’s never good.
Glancing back, I curse at the fallen branch, hidden by fall foliage, that’s
just wrecked my ankle. Shit.
Block the pain. Block it. But there’s no mental trick to keep the shooting
agony from turning my stomach as I drag myself to my knees and rise
carefully, keeping my weight on my left ankle.
There’s nothing to do but limp the final dozen feet to the clearing, gritting
my teeth the whole way. The tinge of satisfaction that I beat Jack here is
almost enough to make me smile.
The meadow is big enough for ten dragons, ringed by several large trees,
but the golden one stands alone in the center, like it’s trying to get a suntan.
It’s just as beautiful as I remember, but unless it can breathe fire, it’s a
sitting duck.
“You have to get out of here!” I hiss from the cover of the trees, knowing
it should be able to hear me. “They’re going to kill you if you don’t leave!”
Its head pivots toward me, then tilts at an angle that makes my own neck
hurt.
“Yes!” I whisper loudly. “You! Goldie!”
It blinks its golden eyes and swishes its tail.
You have to be fucking kidding me.
“Go! Run! Fly!” I shoo at it, then remember it’s a godsdamned dragon,
capable of shredding me with its claws alone, and drop my hands. This is
not going well. It’s going the opposite of well.
The trees rustle from the south, and Jack steps into the clearing, his sword
swaying in his right hand. A step later, he’s flanked by Oren and Tynan,
both their weapons drawn.
“Shit,” I mutter, my chest tightening. This is now officially going
horribly.
The golden dragon’s head snaps in their direction, a low growl rumbling
in its chest.
“We’ll make it painless,” Jack promises, like that makes the murder
acceptable.
“Scorch them,” I whisper-shout, my heart pounding as they draw closer.
But the dragon doesn’t, and somehow, I’m certain in the marrow of my
bones that it can’t. Other than its teeth, it’s defenseless against three trained
warriors.
It’s going to die just because it’s smaller, weaker than the other dragons…
just like me. My throat closes.
The dragon backs up, its growl growing louder as it bares its teeth.
Stomach pitching, I have that Parapet feeling again—whatever I do next
has overwhelming odds of ending my life.
And yet, I’m still going to do it because this is wrong.
“You can’t do this!” I take the first step into the shin-high grass and
Jack’s attention swings my way. My ankle has a heartbeat of its own, and
agony streaks up my spine, chattering my teeth as I force my weight onto
my ruined joint so they won’t see me limping. They can’t know I’m hurt, or
they’ll just attack faster.
One at a time, I stand a chance of holding them off long enough for the
dragon to escape, but together…
Don’t think about it.
“Oh, look!” Jack grins, pointing his sword my way. “We can take out
both the weakest links at the same time!” He looks at his friends and laughs,
pausing their advance.
Each step hurts worse than the last, but I make it to the center of the
clearing, putting myself between Jack’s group and the golden dragon.
“Been waiting a long time for this, Sorrengail.” He walks forward slowly.
“If you can fly, now would be a good time,” I shout over my shoulder at
the small dragon, drawing two daggers from the sheaths at my ribs.
The dragon chuffs. So helpful.
“You can’t kill a dragon,” I try reasoning, shaking my head at the trio,
fear lacing my veins with adrenaline.
“Sure we can.” Jack shrugs, but Oren looks a little uncertain, so I pin my
gaze on him as they spread out slightly about a dozen feet away, setting up
the perfect formation for an attack.
“You can’t,” I say directly to Oren. “It goes against everything we believe
in!”
He flinches. Jack doesn’t.
“Letting something so weak, so incapable of fighting, live is against our
beliefs!” Jack shouts, and I know he’s not just talking about the dragon.
“You’re going to have to get through me, then.” My heart thunders
against my ribs as I raise my daggers, flipping one to pinch the tip so I’m
ready to throw and measuring the twenty or so feet separating me from my
attackers.
“I don’t really consider that a problem,” Jack snarls.
They all lift their swords, and I draw a deep breath, readying myself to
fight. This isn’t the mat. There are no instructors. No yielding. Nothing to
stop them slaughtering me…slaughtering us.
“I would strongly recommend you rethink your actions,” a voice—his
voice—demands from across the field to my right.
My scalp prickles as each of our heads swivel in his direction.
Xaden is leaning against the tree, his arms folded across his chest, and
behind him, watching with narrowed golden eyes, her fangs exposed, is
Sgaeyl, his terrifying navy-blue daggertail.
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