“Faster!” crowed the red-haired drakin, shadowed green eyes wild. The glittering pearl sword in his left hand flung the evening rays flashing across the hills around them, and the lithe, serpentine dragon whose matching shoulders he stood upon answered his cry with all four wings beating against the sky. They rose sharply and then dove toward the target, scales afire with iridescent gleam. “Dei beyond, I’ll never forget this feeling!”
As you keep reminding me, Tyrrick. Keep your grip on the anchor straps, won’t you? You still carry the scars where I had to catch you in my teeth three weeks ago, she answered over the bond. Her amusement mixed with her ire at his persisting reckless streak after the last several years. And sensing that, she felt his flash of irritation and embarrassment, and then he sighed above her. She asked him, Are you ready?
He wedged the tips of his boots into the gap between her plated shoulders and wrapped his left hand tightly into the leather cords trailing away into her harness. I am, he sent.
They were almost upon the tall man standing upon the back of his burly red dragon, lazing on the cool grassy plane with both arms crossed low on his chest. Familiar hazel gaze stared up at them from beneath the red crown on the Deiman’s brow.
She bared her teeth in a low hiss, and sent to Tyrrick, Then we strike! They twisted, upside down, and Tyrrick’s Coronacrux flashed out toward the other rider’s shoulder.
He was met by a mercurial bolt of crimson, drawn from the hip and flung skyward in an instant, as the man’s right foot skittered back and away. It was over in that single beat. Their swords flew apart-- the other rider followed his draw in an arc that turned his whole body around, dispersing the energy cleanly, while Tyrrick’s sword arm was thrown to the side, and he almost dropped the sword ere they spun upright and around.
I believe that means you took the fatal blow, Agmentha sent drily. He didn’t deign to answer her, other than a wordless grumble.
As they slowed, circling back toward the recently anointed Deiman on the ground, Aldrus was grinning. “You’ve improved, Kand. I seem to recall the incident from the last time you dove at us.”
“Fires preserve you, Aldrus. I can’t feel my arm!” He had taken his Coronacrux into his off hand, and shoved the glittering blade into the sheath at that hip, while his dominant arm fell limply at his opposite side.
“I’m sorry, my memory isn’t what it used to be,” Aldrus said. “But weren’t you the one who insisted I perform this strike again? Kaikha, he did say that, didn’t he?” His dragon lifted his head and yawned, exposing rows of thick teeth still stringy and pink with the aftermath of that morning’s hunt. The immense rumble when he settled down again was the only sign of amusement. “Yes, that’s what I thought. So, Kand-drakin, what lesson do you feel like you have learned from this experience?”
“I need to swing quicker,” Tyrrick echoed an old sentiment. “We almost had you today.”
Agmentha’s own humming laughter followed as she settled to the ground and folded her wings by her sides. I almost had him, you mean. You were wholly slow.
Aldrus lowered his head and his smile faded with a wistful sigh. “Just like I almost had Corvos-dei all of these years. I never did overcome him in time.”
“At least you came close before the end, and he would be proud to see you now. He just kept hounding me about patience.” Tyrrick steadied himself and suddenly opened more of the bond, that gnawing chasm in his gut gleefully drawing on Agmentha’s burning vitality. It was as though her energy was filling him up, now, instead of the other way around-- his eyes dilated, and he blinked as his visual acuity sharpened into an array of vibrant light and awareness. He had to close them to avoid being overwhelmed all at once. The next beat, he could hear his own heart thumping loudly in his chest. Most important in that moment, however, was that renewed sensation roared through his numb arm. Ah, burning planes, I’ve got to adjust to this eventually, he sent to her. The enlightening is the only balancing act we have against the Draconians, but times like this it’s exhilarating just to feel a little as you do for a moment.
Don’t push yourself harder than you have to, Tyrrick! It will be years yet before we will face them, she sent back. It does no good to overwhelm your body so soon. Your arm would have regained strength by the time we attended evening feast ahead.
You worry too much, he sent back. And while my arm would have, I hate the way it would have ached the whole time. This is quicker! He shook the limb like a young dragon shaking a doe, snapping his wrist back and forth several times until the sensation resolved into its usual comfort, sprained muscles now proud and strong. There, hours saved.
She huffed the equivalent of a sigh at him and with a rather direct pull, withdrew her vitality to their usual comfortable degree.
Tyrrick went down to one knee as his senses abruptly diminished, and he swayed on her back. With her rider suitably humbled ere his hubris did worse, she turned her head toward the amused Deiman nearby, who had already dismounted from Kaikah’s own shoulders. Agmentha sent to Tyrrick, I believe we shall part ways for the day here, my silly rider. Dragons, as you well know by now, have greater matters to attend to than the every want and need of their partners.
Burning planes, warn me before you do that again!
Likewise, Tyrrick. Yet I do not complain to have my energy taken, so let us consider the matter resolved.He grumbled at her again, meaningless last words, before saying aloud, “Alright, alright, I’m going.” He pried his boots from the anchor points and unwound the leather strap from his waist that most drakin wore as they mastered aerial maneuvers. With an unsteady leap he flew one more beat through the air and landed in a smooth tumble that brought him upright beside his senior rider. He only swayed a little as he stood there. “Shall we?”
“Easy, Kand. I’ve worked with enlightening before,” Aldrus said. “And I understand how it feels to be suddenly deprived. But if she hasn’t already chastised you, don’t get drunk on the bond. We use this gift sparingly until it can be mastered, and you are still learning to draw it out. Without her consent, I might note,” he added as he reached a steadying hand out to his apprentice.
Tyrrick’s already strained smile became a proper grimace. “I know, I know. Lord Odhran mentioned that during our mission to Cambra Village last week. Speaking of missions, I’ve heard you are already preparing to depart again soon?”
Aldrus had turned to start into a jog, but he stopped short and said, “Hold now, you’ve kept that to yourself all this time? With Dagan-dei’s passing, I’d have expected the Lord of Insight to be too busy establishing procedure with the new Grand Lord to attend to a drakin’s lessons in my absence.”
“Ah, you haven’t been around recently enough. Grand Lord Argos is less inclined to Lord Odhran’s presence. His eyes, he told me during our mission.” Draconian’s eyes, he reminded himself. One day I’ll face real Draconian’s eyes in combat, not the intellectual fencing I’ve received so far from a redeemed man. “He’s spending his time now assisting with the next generation more like old Lumas, Dei above knows what preserves the both of them.”
Aldrus frowned and held his tongue for a short time, processing that as he used to Corvos-dei’s words. At last, he said, “I really should spend more time in the quarters and fewer hours afield, if our duties would allow such leisure.” Aldrus motioned for them to get to their trek ahead. “Unfortunately, you have heard true, I’ve already been assigned a purification ritual in Harkon Village.”
“That is right against the edges of the infernal lands!” Tyrrick perked up considerably, his growing hunger shelved in favor of interest. Though he had been out in the local lands, to fly so close to the enemy’s territory struck a chord within him, and Tyrrick blurted out, “I’m sure I can help you!”
Aldrus offered him a strained smile of his own. “I know that you would, however, I have my own reasons for attending this alone.”
“Serena.” The name slipped from his mouth before he could stop himself, and the tone was not one he wanted her brother to hear.
Aldrus met his gaze, and some of Kaikha’s fire seemed to dance in those hazel eyes. “She’s been gone for so long, I mean,” Tyrrick uttered, raising his hands in peace.
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“Yes, Kand-drakin. My sister preceded me to that village on her own final missive from Dagan-dei three months past. She would have gone sooner, had all Deimen not been called to attend the ceremonies. I would know what has become of her.” Aldrus continued to stare at him sternly, before he let out a deep sigh. “Your old infatuations aside, feast will begin soon, and we can discuss schedules over much needed Ambrosia. Perhaps having such an… invested, ally may turn up some detail l would miss.”
Tyrrick grinned. “I can only hope to be of service, Instructor.”
That earned a quick bark of laughter from the Aldrus. “Oh, it’s Instructor now? Do I look like old Lumas?” Yet he nodded in the direction their dragons had flown, the towering shadow of Mount Dracaena’s peaks, the lower shelves of which opened out into the vast plane they stood on now. A good jaunt would see them to the stone doors inside of the hour. Tyrrick laughed as well, almost giddy as the subject shifted so quickly and in his possible favor.
Then he joined the older rider in the pace ahead, and as the time elapsed, they discussed the actual lesson taken away from the end of the day, and Tyrrick’s progression as rider, swordsman, and soldier.
By the time that they were seated for feast, the hunger was gnawing at the younger rider’s thoughts with gusto, and it was a further hour before he had quenched that ache. While Tyrrick had gorged himself, Aldrus had taken out parchment and quill between bites and jotted down a series of short notes.
Now, he handed the rolled up scrolls to his apprentice and said, “Get these to your actual Instructors for the morrow. I intend we depart at dawn.”
The younger rider took them and glanced down at the scribbled names, finding of course Lumas. Then Delilah, and the one that chafed the most of late, Irene. She’ll give me no end of questions and remarks, but I’ll suffer through that for this chance. He performed the usual bow of respect, more out of habit than trying to rile up the Deiman now, and Aldrus huffed at him and gave the usual dismissive motions. “Get going, fires take you.”
Rising from the table, Tyrrick’s longer legs swept the young man up through the center of the mountain at a familiar briskness. Once or twice he still had to duck his head to avoid a suddenly low ceiling, yet he made it to the expected golden halls in little time. He knew the paths through a dozen of the archways now, and one by one Tyrrick sought out the respective rider to hand Aldrus’ message. Lumas was the easiest to track down, residing in the expansive library.
“Kand-drakin,” the wrinkled figure murmured as he approached and bowed. That aged eye tracked down to the scrolls, and his expression stiffened with distaste, even in the dim light recognizing a fellow rider’s penmanship. “To what do I owe this honor?”
Tyrrick handed over the first scroll. “Orders, Instructor Lumas. I’m to join a purification ritual tomorrow.”
Lumas accepted his words with a dry hum, unfurling the letter. His gaze narrowed. “Harkon Village? And if the Draconians should decide to fly out from their burning citadels and lay siege, would such a young rider be of assistance, or hindrance? What is he thinking to allow this?” Lumas rolled the scroll up and shoved it into a pocket of his loose robes. “I do not approve, Kand-drakin. And if you do not return, I shall deliver my wroth upon your master rider.”
“I’ll be fine, I’ve already worked with Lord Odhran and we’ve found no such trouble.”
Lumas mouth turned into an even more dour line as he bit down on the obvious response, that Cambra Village was far removed from the very edge of their enemy’s land. Instead, he withdrew a quill of his own and flattened out the scroll again, writing in swift strokes a message for Aldrus. “Take this back to him, then. I expect to see you in my lessons not a day later than your return. Dismissed, Kand-drakin.”
Tyrrick bowed and took the response, which found itself in his pocket. He retreated back through two more archways before he found Instructor Delilah amidst her many clay sculptures. Her hands were caked up to the forearm in gray, and softer tones ran through her black hair. At her back, a dozen polished and gleaming stones were present with her last students of the night, and she looked up at his intrusion with cool blue eyes.
“Little Kand,” she said. “You are welcome to stay and watch, but our next session is at noon tomorrow.”
Heat flushed through Tyrrick. “About that,” he said, and made to hand her the scroll with her name on it. She simply stared at him, and finally lifted her hands to display the muddy clay everywhere. The redness in his face deepened and he glanced for a place to set it down. “I won’t be able to attend tomorrow,” he managed to say clearly. “I’m joining a mission at the last moment.”
“I trust that a succinct explanation is written there?” she said. Grabbing a damp towel, she began to wipe mud away from her hands, leaving the partially shaped egg before her to rest. She snatched the scroll from him and glanced over Aldrus’ writing. “Or not. Well, you are his personal apprentice, if that is what the Grand Lord has allowed to be, so be it. I’ll expect you to craft the most breathtaking scenes when you have returned to my lessons, Little Kand.”
“I’ll do my best, Instructor Delilah,” he said, and with her clear dismissal, he hurried on his way with the occasional snicker following his trail. The heat in his face remained for long moments after the last voice had faded.
Why do I still have to attend to art, of all things? I can craft a perfectly serviceable weapon without emblems and such to decorate it, he projected into the bond. Agmentha’s reply came slowly.
You complain too much, my silly rider. I was enjoying a full belly and comfortable nap.
Oh shush, we’ve woken the other oft enough over matters large and small before. I don’t appreciate being mocked by her at this age, I’m hardly the child I was when I first began attending these lessons.
I would not be so sure of that, Agmentha answered loftily. He growled at her, but that only proved her point, he realized, and he turned the noise into a low laugh. “Hah, fine, I suppose we are still young. But not young enough to be called ‘Little Kand’, as if she were my mother.”
Then complete her next lessons and impress her enough to earn a better title, my silly rider. Now I’m returning to my most welcome nap. Agmentha closed off the bond to a trickle, ensuring she would not be bothered again unless it was dire.
Tyrrick noted this with no little frustration, then took several breaths to regain his patience ere he found himself before the last, and most recently inducted, Instructor of the night.
Irene had become to Lumas what Tyrrick was to Aldrus, a direct apprenticeship, but her quarters could be found on the opposite side of the Deiman’s halls, through three more archways. Her room was a long chamber filled to the brim with her personal records, updates to older library books underway, and a cool wind through the windows looking out over the land helped cool the ink as she wrote. The Deiman herself was standing over a table overflowing in parchment. Her ears twitched at the approach of his footsteps, and she turned to look over her shoulder at him.
She said drily, “Kand.”
“Instructor Irene,” he answered with all the politeness he could muster, “I won’t be here for tomorrow’s lesson. Or the next several, likely.” He held out the final scroll, and as expected, she took it from him as if he had handed her a raging hatchling.
“On whose authority are you shirking off now?” She unfolded the letter and sighed. “Of course.”
Bite your tongue, he repeated the mantra that had served him well when dealing with his former friend. Well, we weren’t the best of friends to begin with, and her gaining Lumas’ favor before she rose to full rider was just the breaking point. He felt blood drip across the tip of his tongue and stopped gritting his teeth. No chance to quickly heal that little blemish with enlightening.
Seeing he had nothing to say, Irene continued, “Well, I’m not surprised. You were only just starting to master the manuscript of the seventh century. Just because you are gallivanting off with Aldrus doesn’t mean you are free.” She turned from him to search through her various research and came back over with a folder. “Keep up with the translations on these between aura assessment and extraction. I’m expecting at least two fully legible accounts written in seventh century form.”
“Yes, Instructor Irene,” he said slowly. Into the same pocket as Lumas’ reply now went Irene’s work, and she dismissed him the next beat. He retreated with as brief a bow as he could offer and hurried down to the kitchen again. If I move fast enough, I might be able to claim a plate of final portions. I doubt we’ll have as much for morning feast ere we set out tomorrow.
The end of the evening feast offered him more Ambrosia than fish, yet he took what was there gratefully and sat down to think, seeing that Aldrus was absent. He barely felt any pain from his tongue. Why has Serena been away for so long? Could old Lumas have been right about a siege that went unheard of? Surely word would have passed among the villages and reached us sooner if that were the case. So where has she gone to?
He shook his head. Whatever the answer was, he couldn’t see it just yet. Not until more was known about Harkon Village.
With the last sip of the mug drained, he stood up and made his way through the spiraling apartments until he found his own again about a third of the way up. He ducked beneath a low hanging ceiling and opened the door, stepping inside of a short and, were he any vain rider, cramped hall. Long gone was the great open vault he had housed in as a child with Agmentha.
He stepped inside and over to the fireplace, stirring the coals to a roar. Firelight danced across the walls, a pale imitation of glittering scales. He wrestled the hair-band from the back of his head and laid it across the dresser, staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes had gained more lines beneath them from many a sleepless night, yet the light within still held firm. He grinned at himself and stepped away. Not tonight, tonight I’ll dream like a dragon, he thought to himself. He unstrapped his sword from his hip and laid the precious tool atop a chair, and the folder and letter found themselves next to it.
Then he disrobed in a darker room off to the side of the fireplace and sat down beside a tub of coarse powder. A few coals underneath kept the sand bath at a moderate temperature, and he settled in to scrub at the filth acquired throughout the day. When the process was done some time later, he felt almost raw, yet cleaner. Its no dip in the lake, I’ll say that much.
His clothes went through a similar process in lieu of washing in the cold current far below, even the boots, and finally he was ready to lay down for the evening. The same comfortable bedding as he had always used, now with additional layers, awaited in another dark room connected to the first, and only the faintest shadows danced on the wall as he settled in and curled up.
Goodnight, Agmentha, he projected into the bond, and from across the distance, he felt a ghost of warmth brush across his awareness.