Chapter 1 - Meadow Atop a Mountain

High in the mountains in the early morning light, waited a group of ten young boys. Wartorn, all of them.

War-orphan conscripts all, they stood shivering slightly at the edge of a green dew-covered meadow, arms down with feet slightly apart. The well-disciplined boys wore simple clothes, gray long-sleeved tunics tucked into equally rough brown pants. A serviceable uniform provided for trainees of the powerful military nation they represented.

One of these boys was named Ash. The tallest boy there, dark brown hair cut short, and fourteen years old.

Outwardly the lanky youth appeared calm as he endured the occasional chilly gust, quietly staring with bright-eyes at a dark cave entrance across the waist-high grass. In reality, Ash was struggling to keep up appearances despite his nervous state.

At least he wasn’t alone in this anxious endeavor. Spread-out along the field’s edge stood other similarly nervous youths. All keeping watch.

Partly because of the waiting, and partly because waiting behind them hidden in the treeline, was a sizable number of elders carefully overseeing the situation. Their ever vigilant and hawk-eyed instructors.

Finally, everyones silent vigil was rewarded by the sight of a mustachiod man with a weathered face and scaled armor exiting the cave. Trailing him was a creature of legendary power and the source of their countrys' might.

A dragon!

A large violet dragoness, but Ash and the other boys were more concerned with what followed her out. The ten energetic dragonlings that stumbled along behind their fierce mother. Slitted golden eyes blinked rapidly as they adjusted to being outside for the first time.

Stopping short of entering the tall grass, the armored man quietly eased himself down and the dragoness copied him by comfortably dropping onto the ground with a heavy thump.

However, her young brood was too curious to simply sit around. In short order, cat-sized dragonlings were rearing up to peer around their mother.

The trainees eagerly eyed the scaly dragonlings, studying their hues and sizes. And soon the colorful hatchlings were alertly staring back.

But one dragonling in particular easily stood out as the largest of this clutch, a heavy-set scarlet. It was closer to the size of a village dog and the boys silently prayed that it was their destined partner.

For a big hatchling was the ideal for any potential rider since it was common knowledge that a large size signified a strong partner in the future.

Ash tightly clenched his fingers around a large chunk of quartz the size of his head and slightly kicked a foot forward.

When his foot bumped up against a bulging sack at his feet, he let out a tiny sigh of relief. It was almost time for the ritual and he didn’t want to mess up because he was missing something. Not that Ash had ever heard of a trainee failing the bonding before.

Reassured that everything was still there and ready, the boy returned his attention to the dragons across the meadow. All Ash could do now was wait for the ritual to start. His future partner would depend on luck.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

The armored man across the meadow was soothingly rubbing the dragon's forehead when suddenly he whistled a low note and Ash tensed.

Ash tensed. That's the go-ahead signal!

The boy at the leftmost end of the strung-out line took a deep breath, before belting out a great yell, "HAAAH!!!"

All ten baby dragons focused their gaze toward the abrupt noise. While they soundlessly stared, the trainee then raised an open hand bearing a gleaming utensil into the air.

HISS!!!

The renewed silence was immediately shattered as one of the dragonlings let out an alarmed hiss and charged fearlessly into the meadow. Ash was relieved to see that it was a medium green and not the large scarlet.

The tall cover hid the approaching dragonet from sight, but the rapidly parting growth gave away its location as the aggravated hatchling hurtled along. As the miniature dragon bounded out of the tall grass, the targeted trainee quickly kicked open the brown sack lying in front of him before rapidly taking a few steps back. The dragonet locked a furious gaze upon the boy, but came no closer to the threateningly larger being. Hissssss. Rising upright with a continuous hiss, the medium green flared its wings as far as they could stretch.

Despite its height barely reaching the boy’s waist, the posturing dragonling gave off a majestic aura. Morning light shimmered across rounded green scales that contained metallic flecks. Serrated teeth were on full display in an aggressive snarl while frosty breaths escaped into the cool mountain air. But the sharp gleam in the dragon’s glare exposed that the dragonet was far more than a simple beast. The trainee instantly felt enthralled by the gloriously beautiful creature, causing the green’s act of intimidation to have no effect.

However, the dragonling’s snout began to twitch. Violently.

Despite trying to maintain its ferocious gaze, the green’s eyes followed its nose downwards toward a wide open sack. Out of which an meaty scent wafted enticingly. Overflowing with venison, it was an irresistible distraction to the growing dragon. Taking a back and forth look between the boy’s hand and the brown container, the dragonling chose with its stomach.

Closing its wings, the young beast pounced, devouring one, two, three pieces of meat in as many seconds. Taking the opportunity while the little one was distracted, the boy sat down and held his arm out. And in his clenched grip was a bent silver spoon, the source of the little dragon's outrage.

All dragons were born with a desire to hoard. And many millenia ago, one bright goat herder had used that knowledge to tame a dragon. It was his descendants that had clawed out the most powerful nation across the continent. The Talon Empire.

Small glittery objects were scattered all about the caves that comprised the dragon nesting grounds. Items to which dragonlings could, and would, claim for themselves. And the night before the dragon-bond ritual the dragon's rider would steal from each hatchling's hoard as they slept.

The stolen collection would then be picked over by the trainees, the oldest first, until there was no items left to choose.

Therefore a dragonrider's partner was determined by luck and destiny. A method that prevented trainees from simply fighting over the largest hatchlings.

Ash's method of choosing had been picking the heaviest item out of the assortment, hoping it was matched with the biggest hatchling.

Once the bonding ritual actually started, the chosen item would have taken on the boy’s individual scent, causing hatchlings to associate the trainee as part of their hoard. The same logic applied to the jerky, associating meals with the human’s presence.

In no time at all, the medium green was sniffing around in an empty sack. Its little stomach bulged and it had forgotten its previous anger.

Waggling the silver spoon and letting out a small cough, the boy sought to regain the dragonling's attention.

Pupils widening in alarm, the gorged green skittered a few steps away from the youth. But as the crouching human no longer seemed as big and imposing as before, the hatchling soon leaped forward with a roar to wrest back its precious object. Tiny teeth clamped onto the spoon and four legs churned backwards in an effort to take back the broken silverware.

After a brief struggle, the trainee let the little dragon win.

Hiss hiss hiss! Everyone watching smiled in amusement as muffled victorious hisses sounded across the meadow. And a minute later the medium green was head-butting the trainee’s outstretched hand.

The instructors keeping watch over the bonding ritual smiled as another small bout of tug-of-war commenced. The dragon had accepted its playmate and the youth was no longer a mere trainee.

He was now a proper dragonboy.