Chapter 4 - One Year Later

One year later and one year older, Ash stood glumly and watched as the rest of his squadron soared off for their early morning practice, while he and Rasp stayed stuck on the ground.

Shadowed closely by Rasp, the boy plodded off the hard-packed dirt. He was the only dragonboy remaining out of his group. All the others were now dragonriders, with their partners large enough to carry them.

Rasp simply wasn't big enough. Which meant no dragon riding.

He had been the last one in his group going on two months now. His scaly partner simply wasn’t growing as fast as the others.

Or rather, Rasp wasn’t growing in the same way as the rest of his siblings. He was a variant. A new variant that had never been recorded before.

Dragons grew rapidly. Their wings stretch wider day by day with bodies burgeoning larger and increasing in both strength and endurance.

However, Rasp's wingspan was lagging behind. And so was his size. Despite being eleven feet long, which was longer than normal... the dragon's height was not keeping up. Which wasn't to say Rasp wasn't growing taller. He was increasing in height, just not at a rate comparable to his elongated body. Unfortunately, length wasn’t a factor in a dragon’s ability to carry a rider. Height was.

The lack was partially due to his almost spindly legs. They were muscular, but not the longer limbs of every other dragon. But the difference came mostly from a sleek, sinuous body instead of the bulky, more upright torso of the others.

The rule of thumb for determining a dragon’s readiness to bear its future rider was if dragon could stand eye to eye with its human with all four feet on the ground. It signified that the dragon’s body was large enough to comfortably saddle, and that its legs were strong enough to support their rider’s weight.

A standard proven to work, and upheld for at least a thousand years. According to all the instructors anyways...

Yet Ash despaired as Rasp’s head barely sat level with Ash’s thighs. Not even halfway to meeting the required standard! A long year ago, the little guy’s eyes had already been level with his shins. Only slightly lower than the others from the same clutch. Now the dragonboy figured he might have to wait at least another year at this pace. Maybe even longer!

Ash had been ground-bound for so long that the soldiers stationed at the fort had begun to refer to him as Fat-Ash, on account of Rasp being unable to carry the hapless boy. He had also acquired the unenviable title of Fatty.

They thought it was hilarious that the tallest boy in the squadron was paired with the shortest dragon. It was all in good fun since he had a slim build, but that didn’t stop the playful ribbing from stinging a bit more each day.

Especially now that the nickname was slowly turning into Fat-Ass...

Trudging their way back to the dragonhouse, Ash and Rasp returned to their stall. Where the black dragon then proceeded to coil up in his nest of hay to promptly start gnawing on his prized crystal.

...grind grind grind...

It was a familiar sound to the boy after the past year, so to the familiar sound of grinding-teeth, Ash fell into his blankets to idly flip through a manual on flight formations.

From the time they were trainees, all the boys had been taught to read, write, and cartography, as they were essential tools for scouting, missions, and reports. Once they had bonded, the lessons turned more into self-study sessions. Since classes with dragons was unfeasible.

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Aerial tactics for the battlefield was must read material, dictated by the instructors. Required reading that Ash had entirely memorized months ago.

Unfortunately, rules were rules and he would be studying flight maneuvers and hand signals for the foreseeable future. Instead of actually getting to practice them. "Ugh."

Groaning, the young boy sprawled out on his bench and got an answering hiss from the middle of the room.

...grind grind grind...

Turning his head, Ash stared as Rasp persisted at his favorite activity. Which was chewing unceasingly on the large crystal. It's getting rounder, he noticed.

The originally rough quartz had gradually been nibbled into a slightly smaller, slightly smoother chewtoy of which Rasp was incredibly possessive. For the boy to get Rasp to follow him anywhere for long periods of time required Ash to bring along the pet rock. Which was annoying considering how large it was.

Weirdly enough however, his dragon hadn't expanded on his hoard since the ritual. It was another oddity particular to Rasp, since the other dragons had never ceased their gathering of new shiny knick-knacks.

It was a problem the other boys complained about often since their stalls were minefields. It was common to hear curses of pain throughout the dragonhouse from accidental barefooted missteps.

...grind grind grind...

It was hours later when the midday bells tolled, causing the boy to toss a self-study manual aside in relief.

Ash rejoiced. Finally!

Speeding out of the stall and latching the sliding door, Ash continued on out of the dragonhouse. He only had to slow down once for the large scarlet from his squadron and her rider Sinte coming down the hallway in the opposite direction. Sinte waved breezily as he passed by with windswept hair.

The first pair back from the flight, Ash reasoned.

His hustle was rewarded as he beat even the dragonboys from the closer dragonhouse to grab a wide, shallow wheelbarrow outside the Oven.

The Oven was a long open-ended brick building full of fiery ever-burning coal that emitted scorching heat at all times. A thick, winched chain ran through the building, strung with giant hooks. Whole sides of freshly butchered beef were hung on one side of the brick building and seared-meat would be winched out from the other end. A solid start for a hungry dragon!

As Ash trundled up, two sweat-soaked men with long hooked poles stationed at the Oven’s exit stabbed into a thick slab of beef. With practiced movements the muscular pair

flipped the seared ribs with practiced ease into the his wheelbarrow.

Thanking them quickly, Ash quickly spun back towards the dragon-house. Unfortunately he wasn't quick enough as boisterous teasing followed.

“Slow down Fatty, there’s always more!”

“Leave some for your poor dragon, you hear.”

Yeah, yeah, you guys are so funny. Leaving the chuckling duo behind, Ash swiftly made his way back to Rasp.

Back at the stall, Ash managed to safely dump the meat into the dragon’s trough despite his shins suffering Rasp's famished head-butts. With Rasp crunching into his meal Ash left behind a cacophony of happy growls to head on over to the slaughterhouse.

The slaughterhouse was full, with dozens of butchers working all throughout the day, a necessity for any military base hosting dragons.

Couldn't have dragons devouring live prey, else they might see any livestock as a potential meal. Or pets. Imperial citizens really didn't like their pets going missing. Even if the dragon was on their side.

Ash loaded up the wheelbarrow with fresh organ meats and cow-tongue and then hurried back to his partner.

Rasp was more than halfway though the ribs when Ash returned, and he quickly tipped the newest load into the trough. Satisfied that Rasp was going to be chowing down for awhile, the boy backed out of the stall.

Ash nodded politely to the others hauling meat as he headed back once more to the Oven. So lucky I started right away today!

A rider at the Oven who had arrived late happily took the proffered wheelbarrow which left Ash with nothing to do but head for the mess hall. His dragon wasn't the only one ready to eat!

Grabbing a tray, Ash eagerly loaded up a mound of meat before sitting at an empty table. One of the guaranteed perks for working with dragons, was the amount of beef to go around, no matter where they were stationed.

Methodically working through his stacked meal, he had just about finished before the other members of his dragonhouse finally started trickling in. Even if their flight had showed up late today, their larger dragons meant they also had to make far more trips to the Ovens before they could make their own rotation to the mess hall.

Ash kept working his way through his tray while the table filled. As their chatter shifted towards the morning flight Ash earned a few looks of sympathy, but he chose to ignore them. Polishing off his biscuit, Ash mumbled a quick farewell before heading back to the dragonhouse.