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Ashes of the Wind
History and reunion

History and reunion

Tyrrick found his accumulated aches from the day were returning with an edge. He wasted no more time in offering a deep bow toward the two instructors, and then he was on his way at a brisk jog up the stairs toward the Grand Kitchen again. The others followed at his back, and soon Aldrus and a couple of others actually passed him by with their longer strides.

He found that the table from that morning was occupied, and with his only real friend from the class already sitting down with two older students, Tyrrick sought out a quiet table. His gaze found Irene, sitting near the archway to the center of the mountain. She still had her journal open and was picking at her plates idly. He approached her and opened his mouth to offer a greeting, only to be cut off as her head lifted and she took him in with a fiery air.

“Not today, Kand. I’ve only just finished an hour in the nests, and do you know what I found?”

“I can imagine,” he said, and his tone brought out more heat in hers.

“It was boiling in there for all the energy she was venting, Tyrrick! The eggs were surely delighted, but I spent my time in Fiore’s inferno yesterday. So the next time you decide to rile up your partner in communal spaces, why don’t you do it down by the lake, so that both of you can dive in and cool your stubborn tempers!”

“Okay, okay, I heard you. We’ll-- I said okay, didn’t I? Yes, I’ll work on our bond.” Under her withering ire, he huffed and added, “Starting with my meal, over there somewhere.”

“You had better gorge yourself after this,” Irene called as he retreated to a chair to simply sit in, on the other side of the hall.

May as well find out how bad it is before I go up to see her, he thought to himself. He opened his mind, and he nearly dropped his plate as the hunger in his stomach magnified his woes threefold. She had depleted the entire supply of sustenance from that morning. Agmentha! How much have you burned?! He stumbled into his seat and snatched up a cup of Ambrosia, gulping.

Agmentha said nothing in return. Her thoughts were still closed to him, despite receiving his own words.

His brows furrowed in frustration even as he drank and ate, just trying to relieve the all-consuming void. How long passed like that he could not say. At some point, from somewhere distant, he heard a voice say, “Been a long time since I’ve seen an apprentice that devoted. Either you enraged your dragon, or you’re trying to force her to progress at a rate not seen since Grand Lord Dagan rose with Heliax-rin thirty years ago.”

Tyrrick swallowed the fish in his mouth and lifted his gaze to the aged Deiman who had dragged a table over and sat down across from him at some point. “Lord Odhran!” he blurted out. What is he doing here? Lord Dagan always has him close at hand.

“So, apprentice, which is it? Anger, or early development?” The senior rider had settled his elbows on the table, resting his chin on the back of his crossed leather gauntlets to peer at Tyrrick with cool yellow eyes-- eyes the color of a sunset, the fires of the forsaken lands. “Personally, I’d say you got under her skin.”

Tyrrick slowed for long enough to realize the gnawing at his whole body had eased. The void in his stomach was full enough to talk between bites. He took a slow breath and sat up. “I may have said some… rude things to her during my lessons, Lord Odhran,” he admitted.

The gleam in Odhran’s eyes burned brighter. “And what do you intend to do to make up for that, besides eating like it’s the last battle coming up?”

Tyrrick swallowed more Ambrosia for time. And, like Aldrus had that morning with Kian, he closed his eyes and dropped his head down in thought. Only instead of answering directly, he reached into the bond again and sought out Agmentha’s attention despite her barriers against him.

My partner... Agmentha… I’m sorry. I... I lost my temper. Will you come back tonight? I don’t want to sleep alone.

He felt her warmth envelop his skin and the brief coolness of her thoughts brush against his own. Let us talk tonight, she sent back, and then retreated again, and both heat and hunger faded from his awareness.

He felt hot tears running down his face instead, and turned his head away from the rider, ashamed.

“Aye, that will do to begin mending matters. Always remember to stay humble,” Odhran said. He stood up and ruffled Tyrrick’s hair too. “Make sure that the talk you’ve just had isn’t full of empty promises.”

Tyrrick wiped at his face and tried to answer, but the words caught in his throat and he said nothing until long after Odhran’s presence had faded from his senses.

When he could stand with a straight face again, the boy made his way through the northern archway now, skirting wide of Irene still reviewing her studies. Seeing his face, her gaze softened. “Lesson learned?” she called over as he passed.

He paused, nodded once. “Lumas is waiting,” he said.

She nodded in return, and they parted ways.

The passage through the drakin quarters were cut of a darker granite, winding this way and that as he ascended the narrower halls. More than once he had to make a sharp turn, as the passage accumulated for the assorted apartments on either side, above, and below. He steadily spiraled up through the center of the mountain.

In other moods, he might have been interested to take his time and glance into the few open doors he would pass. But today, his thoughts turned over another matter he had seldom considered. For all that they are closer to becoming fully fledged riders, they are equally alone again. She’ll leave my side eventually, he thought, remembering how the older and larger dragons took to roosting in the aeries at the crown of Mount Dracaena. To find an open room here, he would sleep on his own. We waited so long to find this partnership with each other. He grit his teeth and pressed on just a little quicker.

Eventually the floor leveled out and the torch-lit domain was replaced by the grandeur of the Deiman chambers. Shimmering golden granite, speckled and alluring. Captured dragon flame burned bright and plentiful along the wide halls, and the champions of Corina Dei were always coming and going from assorted archways. For now, Tyrrick made his way to the north-west hall, and stepped into the first archway to his left, finding Instructor Lumas already nearing the end of the history lesson. At the sound of his boots, that bright blue eye found his weary green at once.

“--and here is Apprentice Kand, at last. Take your seat now, and open up your journal to our last discussion points to record what little is left.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Yes, Instructor Lumas.” He found his seat and withdrew his book from the table before him. As he opened the cover, looking down at the date he had first started here one year and four months prior, he stared down at his hastily scribbled notes, thumbing through.

Corina Dei’s mortal champions drove back evil, over and over. Until its source reared up from under the world, and blasted the surrounding lands to ashes. She came down and fought alongside them, and together sealed away the dreaded beast, Saturna Nexus, at great cost. The last champion carried her to the source of their meetings, Mount Dracaena, and there she perished. From that chamber he found the first of the dragon eggs thereafter.

He flicked ahead, skimming over the long passages of time since, of the founding of the Order of Corina Dracaena, and the first fall of a Deiman under resurgent evil’s sway, to the skirmishes that became war with the growing Rehilo Nex Draconians. He finally came to the page he was supposed to be at, where Grand Lord Dagan took up the reins of the Order alongside his immense silver partner, Heliax.

”--for the last three decades, our victories have risen sharply under his guidance. We have driven back more of the infernal encroachment on the world than at any other point in the last two hundred years, and rescued several of our own kin who were lost, even if only one of those men still survives among us today. Who here recognizes that survivor, and can name their contributions toward our cause in the intervening years?” Lumas panned his narrow gaze around the much smaller class of apprentices and drakin.

Lord Odhran, Tyrrick thought, but all I know about him is his age, well into his sixties. Unprecedented for a Deiman. Oh, and his inability to retain a partner, though not for lack of attempts.

Seeing no one could answer, Lumas gave another sigh. “Perhaps his presence in the lower halls has become elusive in these recent seasons, yet surely several of you have passed Lord Odhran Calambur, the Lord of Insight. I shall add that to the studies for next week. For now, we shall continue with Grand Lord Dagan.

”As his leadership has drawn to its zenith, what event is known to follow?” Lumas again swept his gaze around the room.

This time an older drakin answered, “The succession rites.”

“Astor-kin, elaborate.”

Astor flipped several pages through his journal, then ran his finger along his own writing and began. “When a Grand Lord can no longer fully sustain the bond between rider and dragon, and ties must be cut, ere his own life is fully forfeit, he must accept the challenges of the active Lords for his second and eventual successor. If no second can be decided upon, the matter will come down to his dragon. And in the case where neither can decide, the matter is put to a vote among the Deimen, with additional weight to seniority. The last time a vote was required was in the year 841, when former Grand Lord Aslan fell alongside his verdant dragon, Helmathos.”

Lumas nodded. “Indeed. Many of the active Lords would serve as magnificent successors, given enough time to settle into the role and responsibilities of the Grand Lord.” He paced throughout the room, thinking. “Dagan has truly embodied the strength of the olden champions, yet ever time has proven the implacable foe. Given the average reign of a Grand Lord, how much longer should we expect his rule to remain unchallenged?”

He’s already outlived the majority of his predecessors, hasn’t he? It can’t be long. Maybe within the next few years, surely no more than that. Tyrrick couldn’t begin to sort through his own notes as neatly as Astor had, but he had jotted the names and reigns down throughout, and he scanned through them for a general reminder. While he was doing that, another apprentice piped up.

“By the end of this fall, I’d say. Word amidst the other instructors I have spoken with is that Fiore intends to push his odds.”

Lumas lifted his head, staring the drakin down. “And in your opinion, Hayward-kin, is the Lord of Flames an appropriate successor to all of the stations required of a Grand Lord?”

“Well... not exactly.” Hayward looked down. “He would have to...” his voice trailed away, unable or unwilling to continue.

Lumas’ voice had taken an edge, and his stare could have warmed a piece of coal to embers. Tyrrick was very grateful not to be the focus of that ire when he dared glance up, and he quickly resumed studying his notes. “What would Instructor Fiore need to do in order to have his challenge taken seriously and his merits measured fairly, Hayward-kin.”

Hayward exhaled, squared his shoulders, and lifted his gaze to Lumas’. The words he said were bland and quiet. “He would have to willfully sever his bond with his wingless dragon and challenge for Heliax-rin’s partnership, as the only available dragon capable of flight. And if he did that as a mere Lord to take over a reign, he would be no better than the Draconians.”

Lumas cracked his left hand slowly, knuckle by aged knuckle, clenching his fist. “Let that be known, a Deiman who cuts his own bond for the sake of claiming another is a monster. His heart is full of the very animus we prowl the lands to vanquish. Who has been spreading this suggestion, given Instructor Fiore’s fierce devotion to Agmeddo-rin?”

Hayward’s voice came quicker now. “My lessons with Instructors Delilah, Erich, and Argos, sir.”

Lumas’ mouthed something to himself, then said, “I will have a word with them. That will suffice for our lesson today. Your mission before we return in two weeks is to track Lord Odhran and gather his advice, be it toward swordsmanship or any sufficient matter.” He motioned them out, and Tyrrick shut his journal with a relieved breath. Yet as he stood up, he paused and frowned in thought.

“Instructor Lumas,” he called out.

“Yes, Apprentice Kand?”

“Would his thoughts into the bond be sufficient?”

Lumas studied him for several long moments. “That would indeed qualify. Have you chosen your subject already?”

“He challenged me to resolve today’s disagreements with Agmentha when I was upset, and to always be humble.”

“That...” Lumas drummed his fingers across the closest desk and then let out a low bark of laughter. “Yes, that sounds like the wayward man I know. I suppose that would explain your delay. As such, your penance is to seek him out again and aim for more substantive guidance, lad. Now hurry along, the remainder of the day is your own. Class dismissed.”

“Yes, Instructor Lumas.”

The Deiman quarters were largely a mystery to him, beyond the few directions he had drawn from Serena over the last few months. And as a mere apprentice he really should have returned to his own halls. Yet there was one location here that any apprentice was encouraged to spend time in, and the one location that he knew he must go to.

He returned to the main entry hall at a steady jog and made his way to the east, then along two north-winding passages, before he arrived again before the sacred grove where the Order fully began many centuries prior.

“Agmentha,” he called.

She lifted her head from the warm, radiant flora, and the ashen nests filled with milky white and occasionally twitching eggs, threaded through with the faintest hint of reds, blues, greens, and yellows. Tyrrick, she answered.

He made his way with due reverence and caution toward her. When he spoke, his voice was hushed, and his gaze soft with regret. “I’m sorry about how I spoke to you before. I was still angry about Bryan, and I suppose Serena. I lashed out at you over something that really wasn’t such a problem.”

And I should not have prodded you after our bond had eased your aches. She reached out to nudge his hand, and he scratched her behind the budding horns. I have spent enough time here, Tyrrick. I would not linger much longer in such a lonely place again.

Then let’s return to our room, for however much longer it will still be ours. He knelt down and drew her tightly to his chest, and her head leaned into his shoulder with that same low murr of contentment. But first, Agmentha?

Yes? Her curiosity brushed against his thoughts.

His relief was returning to his usual mischievous nature.

“Irene had this wonderful suggestion to splash in the lake. We can watch the day set. And maybe you’ll shed a scale or two for my Coronacrux!” He pushed away the thoughts about Fiore and Kian and about broken daggers.

As if I would be so free with my precious scales, silly, rude rider-to-be. But yes. A swim would be most welcome, to stretch after so long lazing today.

He sat up and they each rose to their feet. “Race you to the bottom of the mountain?”

Oh, not this again. Yet she hummed, and as they left behind the nests, the two broke out into first a loping trot, then a hurried jog, and soon after reaching the kitchen again, they began to run with all their might, the game resumed, laughing.