At first, it felt weird that Skybreaker would send Faelix for the rescue effort. Helen didn’t know the snarky red dragon rider at all, but she knew her kind. It was clear as day that Faelix didn’t care about the people they were actively trying to save. If anything, she looked like she was having fun as the injured winced in pain. Little flames danced in amusement in the red iris of her eyes. Her tongue, thin and forked like a snake, hungrily danced around her sharp teeth when nobody was looking.
She understood why Faelix was chosen when they took the first injured out from under the rubble. It was a woman stuck under the fallen statue of Stormrider. It was the largest statue on the spire, carved entirely out of black stone, the centerpiece of the round square that connected the four large streets of the Citadel. The woman’s left side was almost completely pulverized, stuck under the arm of the Seventh Spire’s patron deity. Faelix, with a slender body barely larger than Helen’s, rolled away the gargantuan statue off the unconscious woman and whispered her dragon down. Helen watched in terrified amazement as the dragon opened its mouth and what looked like bright molten stone, poured out.
The woman immediately regained consciousness and started screaming. That’s when Helen first realized the joy in the red dragon rider’s eyes, her barely contained predator’s smile. Her shoulders slightly trembling with amusement as her hands drew complicated signs in the air over the screaming woman’s burning skin. It took a couple of minutes, but the liquid fire dissolved into the skin, leaving no sign on the body.
It was drastically different from what Dahlia did on the summit. What Dahlia did, as unholy and eerie as it was, felt natural. Dahlia shaped the flow of water with a nudge. Faelix forced her power on the wounds and broken bones, making them obey her will, as people squirmed and screamed in pain.
“How do you do it?” Helen asked her after the third rescue. Her help was not required at all and Faelix wasn’t much of a conversationalist outside of a couple of snide remarks here and there.
Faelix regarded her as if she had forgotten she wasn’t alone. She gave Helen a half smile, “Do what now?” she said.
“Heal their wounds with your dragon’s… thing?” Helen said.
Faelix let out an amused snicker. She looked up at the dragon lazily coasting above them. “It’s all Duchess if I’m honest with ya.” she said. “All dragons are different, ‘as unique as pieces of diamond’ my master used to say. They call’em our draconic gifts. I prefer ‘gimmicks’ to be honest.”
Helen raised an eyebrow. “Draconic gifts huh?”
Faelix rolled her eyes. “It ain’t me that named them now, am I?”
“And all riders get one?” Helen asked.
Faelix shrugged as if bored. “Most do. Those that don’t usually stay at the spire doing research and whatnot. Lucky ones, like the big Mr. Tiny Sword up there get combat powers. And the others are stuck with broken bones and bleeding wounds.” She raised her head and sniffed the air. “Survivors o’er there.” She started towards a burning building across the street.
“So, you don’t fight?” Helen asked surprised.
“The thing is, rook, the kids that stay back at the spire build us things, tools to draw out the more dormant parts of our bond.” As she said it, Faelix raised her left arm and a small blade appeared out of her sleeve. Helen realized it was wrapped in leather and secured to what looked like a steel rope wrapped around her arm. “They give us all sorts of toys to play with.” Her fingers moved like spider legs and the steel rope sprang into action. It moved like a snake in the air and with a sharp sound, it shot fifty feet in the air and wrapped itself around Duchess’ leg.
With an intoxicated smile, Faelix flew. She flung herself over the dragon and waved down at Helen from the side. She was holding on to the back of Duchess by its protruding spine. The blade and rope had already disappeared back into the red rider’s tunic. She let out a joyous cheer as Duchess gave a roll, almost throwing its rider off its back.
Helen’s eyes darted back and forth between the dragon above and the burning building in disbelief. Faelix jumped off the back of the beast, using the momentum of its flight to propel herself towards the building. Just as Helen thought she was going to crash into the cobblestone road, the steel rope appeared again, this time its end wrapped around another building’s roof. As she made a smooth landing, Duchess flapped its enormous wings and the flames that had almost completely wrapped the building disappeared immediately. Helen had to sprint to catch up. Even then, she barely made it as Faelix put a man’s second leg into its place after clearing the rubble.
“Amazing aye?” Faelix asked, waiting for her dragon to breath liquid fire on the man’s legs. “Fights in the sky can get quite hectic ye see rook. You need something to help you get around up there.” She winked at Helen, nodding at her left sleeve.
Hours dragged on. Helen followed Faelix through the Citadel, pointing her in the right direction when she asked for a shortcut. Faelix stopped and lectured on magic and dragon riding, but it was never detrimental to their efforts. For someone who looked as all over the place as Faelix, she was surprisingly efficient. Helen wondered how much of that image was a mask and how much of it was because of the accent.
After the tenth or twentieth rescue, Helen felt herself get desensitized to the grunts of pain coming from them. She stopped wincing at the sounds of broken bones and started helping Faelix with setting them. On the other hand, the joy that the red rider took from seeing people in pain didn’t lessen a bit.
What bugged Helen the most was how removed from her surroundings Faelix seemed. For her, it felt like a beehive was buzzing inside her head. Even with her cursed cousin cutting the battle short and the dragon riders protecting them, hundreds had died.
The Seventh had no standing defense force save for a small militia of volunteers. The militia’s response time was pathetic, as Helen expected. It took them almost an hour after the battle was over to gather and join Helen and Faelix in the search and rescue effort.
“Sweet smell of gods they’re pathetic.” Faelix said, putting Helen’s feelings to words. They were sitting on the roof of a clock tower near the summit, watching a group of volunteers try to clear rubble from a side street’s entrance. They had done all they could to save the people that could be saved, and Helen could tell Faelix was drained because of all the magic she had been channeling.
“Cut them some slack.” Helen said, sounding harsh, even though she tried her hardest not to. “We are not used to this. The Seventh doesn’t get attacked, we have nothing.”
“Oh but that is not true is it now, blue one.” Faelix said. “I never wouldae guessed you had a blood witch here. And then there is you.” Her face took on an uncharacteristically serious expression. “You held your own against a starbeast girlie, most riders I know pissed their breeches on their first encounter.”
“Not you though?” Helen tried to shift attention away.
“Ah nae girlie, I haven’t been afraid in a long long time now.” Faelix answered, her predator’s smile creeping back on her face.
Must be nice, Helen thought trying to keep herself from getting too jealous. “What spire are you from anyway?” she asked.
“Ah the accent aye?” Faelix said taking a gulp of wine from the skin she kept on her belt. “I’m not from any spire, bluey. You know the big guy with a big fecking sword up there,” she nodded towards the cathedral where Skybreaker had stayed. “He found me in the wilds, a mere hatchling, and brought me to the Dragon Spire.”
Helen stared at the woman sitting across from her with her eyes glazed over, and really tried to examine her. When she first saw Faelix, she had credited her sharp lines and vulpine face to her being a dragon rider. Now that she knew, the red haired rider looked even more alien.
Wild, fiery red hair circled her face like a mane. It was windswept and unhinged, a stark contrast to Helen’s own strict, tied back hair. In flashes where wind pushed it back from her face, Helen could see spots of skin on the edges of the rider’s face, where it was almost metallic, which reminded her of Duchess’ own crimson scales.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Is that why this doesn’t affect you?” Helen asked, putting the question that had been bugging her for hours into words. “People dying, people in pain. Is it easier because they are not your people?”
Faelix’ eyes snapped to her like a sudden slap, simmering fire inside them. Helen cringed away from the force of it.
“A piece of advice, little ‘un,” she whispered threateningly. “Don’t you ever presume to know what does and does not mess with a rider, least of all me. Now, you’ve had a day. You lost a lot of people, so I will let it slide. Moving forward, know yer place.”
As soon as she finished talking, she jumped down from the roof, landing three stories below without so much as a sound. “Come on, rook, we need to go back to the summit.” she said over her shoulder, the ambivalent smile had returned to her face.
Helen shivered at the sudden change in the rider’s demeanor. Red eyes filled with intent to hurt, burned in her mind, she rushed to the ladder next to her to keep up with Faelix.
The walk back to the cathedral was silent. Even though Faelix was closer to her chipper self, Helen didn’t dare poke her anymore. Faelix was right, it had been one hell of a day so far, and it didn’t show any signs of slowing down.
Helen focused on her breathing, deliberately slowing down her heart. She imagined herself being a blade that is sharpened again and again. Something about the grating sound that always calmed herself down when she played it in her mind. Her teacher used to call it weird. His idea of a calming sound was windchimes.
She felt the shock slowly fade away as she kept sharpening herself. She took a deep breath and took account of her situation. Her beautiful dress was in tatters. She loved that dress; it was the last gift her teacher had given her before he left for the Iron Spire. The entirety of her right arm was covered with pieces of her red dagger. Dahlia’s blood magic had healed the wounds, so it didn’t hurt. They didn’t even limit her ability to move her arm. She was now a proud owner of an arm covered with pieces of red onyx, which sucked because it meant she would never be able to forget this godsdamned day.
Once they arrived at the foot of the summit’s stairs, she sighed before taking a step towards the irritatingly long stairs.
Faelix stopped her by clicking her tongue from behind. “You don’t take that way anymore, rook. That’s for outsiders.” She put her hand on the smooth stone and whispered what sounded like an old prayer. Helen blinked and instead of stone there was now a gate made of bronze. Faelix gave a sarcastic bow, “Rookies first.”
Helen walked through the door, rolling her eyes. The interior was as if it was fighting with itself. It was a single huge hall that mirrored the one at the summit, the only difference being this one having a ceiling as it was carved inside the mountain. Helen knew the rumors about there being a base of operations that belonged to the riders corps under the cathedral, but she never imagined it being this big.
The walls were entirely covered in embossed images of dragons, it felt like standing inside a hurricane of colorful stone lizards. The paint was applied in such a way that the whole room felt like it was moving. In the eye of that hurricane, a set of ornate wooden chairs encircled a table with a scaled map of the spires on it. Seeing how far apart they were like that, Helen felt so inconsequential. Her entire world was the Seventh, which seemed so small in the grand scale of all nine spires spread out like a particularly surreal constellation.
The grandiose sight ended there. The rest of what existed inside the cylindrical hall was a sight straight out of a warehouse. Weapon racks lined the walls, too many weapons for such a small room. Disorganized tables full of books littered the space. Behind the largest of the wooden chairs, which Skybreaker was sitting on scratching his chin in thought, were a dozen oaken boxes. They clearly stood out from everything else in the room, on account of being the only things not covered in dust. Another one of those boxes, a slightly smaller one, sat on the table in front of him.
The third rider from the ceremony and another scholarly looking man sat on Skybreaker’s either side. They stopped talking and glanced up as Helen entered the chamber with Faelix behind her. There were five empty seats and the remaining three were taken by what Helen assumed were the other recruits, her would be hatch mates.
One was the largest boy she had ever seen, the first boy from the ceremony. He had a mountainous figure, but a kind and childlike face contrasting it. He was visibly trying to keep his composure, presumably for the other children’s benefit, but Helen recognized the fear etched in the lines of his face. Next to her was a small girl with cherry blonde hair and large blue eyes. She wasn’t even attempting to hide her anxiety. Her shoulders were shaking as her eyes jumped from one rider to the other. She cringed and tried to get smaller as Faelix approached the table.
The third recruit Helen knew all too well. A scraggly looking boy with a head of wild curly hair. He looked more distracted than anything. He was playing with a small piece of gear with a thousand-yard stare in his eyes.
“Is it done already?” Skybreaker asked, shifting his gaze from the box in front of him to Faelix.
“Locals got the rest. Only rubble left out there.” Faelix threw herself on one of the chairs at the empty side of the table and crossed her legs. She nodded to the trio of recruits. “This all of ‘em?”
Skybreaker nodded. “We are still trying to figure out what to do about the blood witch.” He turned to Helen and continued before Faelix could respond. “Sorry to put you to work so soon, Recruit. I am deeply sorry this happened on such an important day for you, please join your fellow recruits.”
“Thank you sir.” Helen walked over to the scraggly boy. “Olipheus.” She whispered as she took a seat.
“Princess.” The boy replied pointedly.
“You have to be kidding.” Faelix interjected without a glance in the recruits’ direction. “The girl defeated a whole legion of scragglies with mere words, and you are sitting ‘ere pondering on what to do? When was the last time you dealt with a wave all by yerself cap’n?”
Skybreaker simply sighed.
“It is not that simple, lieutenant.” The scholarly looking rider said. His voice was gruff like his nose was clogged. He was wearing a long black robe with bright gold dragon etchings.
Faelix snorted and addressed Skybreaker once again, ignoring the other man. “The girl is a weapon, Breaker, you know she is. She has the potential too, right before the attack you saw-”
Skybreaker silenced Faelix with a harsh wave of his hand, which would make him legendary in Helen’s eyes even if he had no reputation. “She is a weapon, yes, but an unpredictable one.” He reached towards the table and unlocked the box in front of him.
The four wooden sides opened like petals and revealed a large egg. It was covered in white metallic scales. At first Helen thought the egg was cracked, but then realized the cracks were moving, black as void, and smoking too.
“What in the hell?” Faelix exhaled. She sat up, suddenly looking on edge.
“This is a previously unseen phenomenon.” The rider in robes explained. “When the blood witch summoned the starbeast with her powers, then willed it away, it found a place to hide not too far from her. Dragon eggs are the biggest magical energy containers in the world, as I am sure you remember from my lectures.”
“So what? We break the egg?” Faelix asked, panic slowly seeping into her voice. The other three riders looked at her like she was spouting heresy.
“Overlooking the harsh insult to our traditions, lieutenant.” Skybreaker said pressing on each word. “We don’t know what would happen to the energy inside if we were to…” He lowered his eyes. “Destroy the container.”
The green dragon’s rider cleared his throat. “Captain, should we be discussing this in front of the recruits?” His voice was clear and calculated. Not messy like Faelix or booming like Skybreaker, but calming like stable stone. “I would say our new brothers and sisters had enough for one day.”
“With all due respect, sir.” The large recruit said, his voice was deep and strong. “We are part of the riders corps now. Even if we don’t have a voice here, we would be honored to stay for the discussion.”
“Besides.” Ollie added, he always managed to sound sarcastic which bugged Helen. “The girl you sirs so affectionately call ‘blood witch’, literally saved our lives back there.”
The large-eyed girl nodded anxiously. “Please don’t hurt sister Dahlia.” she whispered barely audible.
Skybreaker regarded the three with a warm smile. “That is touching to hear recruits, however, this is bigger than all of us.”
“I will take her as mine.” Faelix said, the words echoed in the silence that followed. “It is in traditions isn’t it. You took me in. Let me take the witch as mine.”
“Lieutenant, you would have to be responsible for everything she does if you do that.” the green rider stated with his eyes bouncing between her and Skybreaker.
Faelix leaned on the table, staring directly into Skybreaker’s eyes. “How long have we been fighting this war cap? How many siblings have we lost to those damn beasts? This girl could be who changes it all. Let me take her.”
“You have duties, Faelix.” Skybreaker said conflicted. “You can’t be there to monitor her through her training.”
“I’ll do it.” Helen found herself saying. Seven pairs of surprised faces shifted in her direction. “I will train with her, monitor her. If she poses any threat, I will not hesitate to kill her either.”
The scholar was the one that broke the silence this time. “That is unheard of-”
“I’ll attest to her abilities.” Faelix cut him off. “I spent all day with this hatchling, and I can swear to both her ability and willingness to monitor and kill the blood witch.” She continued before any of the other riders could speak. “Bluey here killed a damn scraggly with no formal training nor magic. I’ll still take responsibility. Hells, I’ll take responsibility of both, on my life as a rider and wings of my dragon.”
A heavy silence filled the hall. Helen was surprised how important this felt to her. She felt an unexpected amount of responsibility for what was going on. She hated the cursed girl, but Dahlia had saved her, then saved everyone on the summit, and everyone else on the spire too. If she could do something to help her cousin, it was her responsibility to do so.
As the silence grew longer, Faelix slowly produced a leatherbound notebook. She slowly tapped on its cover with her finger. “Let it be recorded, captain?”
Everyone in the room looked on edge. The scholar looked irritated, like he wanted to interrupt but was forcing himself not to. The green rider looked distracted, as if running scenarios in his head. Skybreaker simply looked sad.
“Let it be recorded.” he finally said leaning back in his chair.
Faelix produced a pen and started writing.