Helen woke up to the sound of Dahlia screaming in her sleep for the fifth time that night. It was clear that the black-haired girl was troubled after using her blood magicks the day before. Though it amused Helen to see her cousin in pain, she hated to have her sleep interrupted. She always prided herself on being a light sleeper, but she wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping.
In the bunk across the room all the recruits shared, she spotted Ollie sitting with his back to the wooden hull wall of the ship. His eyes were wide open, as though he hadn’t slept all night. He was staring intently at Dahlia tossing in her own bunk. His gaze contained no animosity, if anything he looked somber. Helen remembered him standing up for Dahlia, telling Skybreaker and others how she saved them. She felt a strange and annoying spike of jealousy. She cursed herself for the weakness.
Their eyes met when Olipheus turned to her as she adjusted herself in her bed with irritation. He stared at her thoughtfully for a second and sighed. He nodded to the arch that led to the communal area and got up to leave the room. After rolling her eyes and biting the inside of her cheeks, she got up herself to follow him out.
She walked with soundless steps, mostly out of habit. The two remaining recruits who slept through Dahlia’s restless screams, wouldn’t wake up because of mere footsteps. Their bedroom had no door, only an empty doorway. According to Faelix, who handled their orientation on the Golden Vanguard’s cloudship, the recruits “hadn’t deserved the right to privacy yet”.
The bedroom was on the level just below deck, along with the various bedrooms belonging to the members of the Vanguard. Seven out of eleven were unoccupied; twelve rooms, including the one the new recruits were using, formed a wide oval around the communal area that doubled as a sparring and training space. The ship was large, one of the largest Helen had ever seen, a proof of the Golden Vanguard’s standing among the divisions of the riders corps.
There were two more levels below. One was exclusive to the cloud engine and its crew: freelancers, the majority of which were engineers from the Fourth Spire. The other was the barracks of the grounded force of the Vanguard, members of the riders corps who hadn’t bonded with a dragon yet.
They looked much more like soldiers compared to the riders Helen met on the summit. They wore armored uniforms made from golden dragon scales, carried standardized spears, swords and crossbows all etched with their personnel number and the Vanguard’s insignia. They all looked proud to serve, their lack of drive made Helen sick. She couldn’t imagine being content with being grounded in a legendary force like the corps.
She followed Ollie into the cold breeze of the deck, smooth wood shining under the starlight. The sound of wind mixed with the flapping of Duchess’ wings, who was on watch tonight. She lazily soared on the starboard side with the full moon behind her like a watchful goddess.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice coarse from dehydration.
“How long are you gonna keep being angry, princess?” Ollie responded leaning on the bulwark facing her. He was playing with something in his hands as he usually did, it looked like some sort of geared mechanism. It clicked in rhythm with the ships whirring engine.
“I am not angry, you dick.” Helen punched Ollie’s shoulder lightly. “I thought we had something, then you up and disappeared to gods know where for two years. Sorry if I can’t act like nothing happened.”
A somber shadow passed through Ollie’s angular face. “I’m really sorry for how I disappeared, but I had no choice. Neither did Zeke by the way,” he added, turning his face away to stare at the cloud floor. It looked like it was made of cotton under the bright starlight.
“Where did you guys go anyway?” Helen asked, trying to force her hurt aside. “I asked your parents, but they wouldn’t tell me.”
Ollie sarcastically exhaled out of his nose. “They never liked you, did they?” he said. “We were on the First Spire, they wanted us to learn politics from the best of the best.”
Helen rolled her eyes. “How did Zeke take the news?” she stretched against the bulwark. “I don’t imagine he was very happy you guys had to be separated.”
“Badly,” Ollie said. “We had just returned home too, it sucks I had to leave him. In that state too.” His eyes caught the pieces of onyx embedded in Helen’s arm. “That hurt?”
Helen raised her hand and examined the skin, like it was the first time she was seeing it. “Not really,” she said. “I think it looks good, what do you say?”
“It suits you,” Ollie said. They looked at the stars for a minute side by side like they did when they were kids studying in the Citadel’s academy. “Are you planning on telling them?” Ollie finally asked breaking the silence.
Helen straightened her stance and put her guard back up. “Tell them what?”
Ollie looked around to make sure they were alone on the deck, then whispered, “They’ve been calling Dahlia a blood witch. Are you not afraid she will tell them?”
“She won’t,” Helen said, her own faith in the cursed girl surprising her.
“Do you even know her?” Ollie sounded sincerely worried. It made Helen nostalgic over a childhood she dearly missed.
“I know her enough,” she said, her tone clearly signaled they were done with the topic.
Orange light painted the horizon with a pastel dawn. Helen and Ollie watched it rise slowly, enjoying each other’s company in silence.
Helen thought about the boy regularly these past years, often with anger. But now that he was here again, she found it hard to stay mad at him. Growing up, Ollie and his twin were always there for her. Their parents became the spire’s protector after Helen lost her family. There weren’t that many kids who lived on the Citadel, even less understood the pressure that came with being a high ruler’s child. Besides, Ollie and Zeke never acted differently around her because she was an orphan. After they left, she was so angry she never even considered how much she missed the scraggly boy.
Slowly but surely, sounds of life started to come from below decks. Before long, the recruits were called to the communal area for their morning briefing.
When Helen went downstairs, the others were already there. The recruits were standing in line. Dahlia was shaking every couple of seconds like she had lost a lot of blood, dark circles had formed under her eyes.
The large bald boy, Doppan, was awkwardly standing on attention, a child’s impression of a soldier. He was impossible to read for Helen, his calm demeanor made her survival instincts kick in. Like he was building up to explode into a fit of rage at any moment.
Finally, the small cherry blond girl stood at his side. She was trying to mimic the boy’s stance, making her look even more awkward. All three were dressed in the black leathers given to them when they boarded the ship. The smallest was clearly too big for Lilia.
Across the room from them, Skybreaker and Syllan stood. He was Skybreaker’s lieutenant who rode the green dragon, the second in command of the Golden Vanguard. Faelix was sitting on a chair near the middle of the room, her feet were crossed over a coffee table. Helen wondered how she could get away with such lack of decorum all the time. The scholarly looking officer was nowhere to be found.
Skybreaker waited for Helen and Ollie to take their place before speaking with his commanding voice.
"Today marks the official beginning of your theoretical training,” he said. “I will be leaving today to give my report on the attack that took place on the Seventh Spire. While I am gone, Syllan is in charge.” He shot a pointed look at Faelix as he said the last part, which she dismissed with a sleepy wave of her hand. “I hope to see you all in better form when you arrive on the Dragon Spire next week. Lieutenant.” He nodded to Syllan, who answered with a crisp salute before turning to the recruits.
“As the captain said,” he said with his stable voice, “We have one week to teach you the basics about the corps and how we operate. Get your gear and report to the deck in one hour. Lt. Faelix and I will meet you for your first lesson.”
He and Skybreaker left for the deck almost immediately, and it was clear that none of the recruits knew what “get your gear” actually meant. Faelix, who was watching them with a mischievous glint in her eyes, laughed as she jumped up.
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“’Breaker and them oft forget not everyone grew up on the Dragon Spire.” She adjusted Lilia’s collars as the timid girl clearly wanted to retreat. “You will grow into those shortly, dearie. Now then, chop chop. Wear your rider leathers, grab swords n’ spears from that armory there and go up.” She pointed to the large door opposite the stairs, an unlocked padlock dangling from it. “Those of you that have hair, tie it up.” She held her hand up as Helen was preparing to object, “And those that prefer other kinds of weapons, stuff your minds and get with the program.” She threw herself back on the chair and picked up a piece of bread from the coffee table as the other recruits scrambled around.
“Why do they put up with you?” Helen asked as she took a seat on the chair closest to Faelix.
“Careful what you say to your superiors, hatchling,” Faelix said, danger dancing on her tongue.
“You won’t kill me yet, so tell me,” Helen rolled her eyes. “If you please, lieutenant.”
“Better.” Faelix took another bite of her bread. “To answer your question, there are two types of members in the corps. There are soldiers, like those two knuckleheads that just left or the grounded ones on the level below us. They are the bones of the corps, and we couldn’t function without them, yada yada yada.” She swallowed with a big sip from her pocket flask. “They are the ones that advance to be cap’ns and such. And then there are those like me, who make the dragon rider corps different from the army or the spires’ stationed forces. I am the spice in this bread, hatchling. Discipline is secondary to what I contribute. Now go.” She waved at Helen dismissively. “You don’t want to make Syllan wait. He is a real nasty son of something or other when he is annoyed.”
“Why swords and spears?” Helen asked as she got up to go change. “Why can’t I use my daggers?”
“You can, once you bond with a dragon and become a proper rider.” Faelix waved again, more urgently this time.
An hour later, all the recruits were on the deck. Donned in their brand-new leather armors and carrying their unmarked swords and spears. The scholarly rider in the armory, who called himself Firar, helped them pick up the weapons and adjust their armors so they were all fitted perfectly. They looked like the beginning of a real squad, aside from a couple of things that stood out to Helen.
Dahlia kept shaking like a drug addict in withdrawal. Occasionally, she looked around herself like she didn’t remember where she was or what she was doing. Doppan looked like he didn’t know the first thing about how to even hold weapons, let alone how to fight with them. For Ollie, even standing up straight was a struggle, the boy was just that used to slumping over a desk or leaning against things sarcastically. And Lilia had to have someone hold her hand just to manage climbing on the deck.
What a set of winners I am clumped with, she thought as she tried to push down the feeling of absence left by the lack of daggers on her.
Lieutenants Faelix and Syllan were talking among themselves, Faelix was holding a piece of paper that looked like it was torn from a small notebook. Syllan said something inaudible to her and she took out her pen and wrote on the paper. She whispered something and blew on the paper, it went up in flames. She gave an uncharacteristically sharp salute to Syllan before running to the edge of the deck and jumping off the ship.
Lilia screamed and threw herself on the floor. Duchess rose a second later with Faelix holding on to the spear-like bone sticking out of her back. She winked at Helen as the dragon adjusted her altitude and flew away with stunning speed.
Syllan turned and approached the lined-up recruits. He had his Golden Vanguard armor on, gold dragon scales broken up only on his right arm, where a strip of green signified his rank and dragon bond. He looked majestic, in control, the quintessential dragon rider. Instead of the trident he was wearing on his back at the choosing ceremony, was now a standard issue spear and sword just like the ones the recruits were carrying.
“Good morning, hatchlings,” he said. He shook his head to bring himself back into the moment. “Before we get on with the salutes and decorum, can anyone tell me how the dragon riders corps is structured?”
Ollie’s hand shot up, Helen kept hers down. Lilia also meekly raised her hand, she was pale as salt and looked nauseous, the poor girl. Syllan nodded to Ollie encouragingly, and the boy took a step forward before he started speaking.
“The corps is comprised of independent squads with their own duties and purposes, each one led by a rider who has obtained the rank of captain by proving themselves in the eyes of the nine seats of power. Any rider ranked higher than captain are individual agents that report directly to the nine seats. The identities of the nine seats of power is a closely guarded secret and any effort to try to uncover that secret is a crime against the Dragon Spire.” He finished in one breath, clearly reciting from an outdated text. “Sir?” he added.
“Umm, sir?” Lilia said taking a step forward. “There are actually eleven seats of power, and their identities are known. Right?”
“Is that a question, recruit?” Syllan asked the girl a little roughly.
Lilia cringed in response, which made Helen’s heart sink. “No, sir,” she said, as loud as Helen assumed she could be. She had her eyebrows crossed too, an amusing attempt at seriousness.
“Correct.” Syllan waved them back to line. “That rule, about secrecy Recruit Olipheus mentioned, changed fifty years ago, when the rulers of the spires made it a requirement to keep supplying the corps with recruits. More to my point, there are currently forty-eight major squads, each with their own different statements of purpose, each named after the color of its captain’s bonded dragon.
“The Golden Vanguard is only one of them, our mission is the search and rescue of anyone who might have survived on the surface. We are given priority when picking up new members because of the increased risk we take, resulting in the best and largest grounded force in the entirety of the corps.”
Helen couldn’t contain herself at that, and a scoff left her mouth. Syllan jolted at the sound, suddenly appearing right in front of her. “Do you have something you want to say about our grounded force, hatchling?”
“No, sir.” Helen said, trying to keep her voice from coming off as sarcastic.
“Sergeant Mithra!” Syllan’s voice boomed all over, just like Skybreaker’s. It felt as if he suddenly grew ten feet tall.
In seconds, a short, wide woman appeared at the stairs that led below. She gave a sharp salute and a loud “yessir” to Syllan.
“Sergeant, we have another one who looks down on your grounded force,” Syllan said not once taking his pressuring gaze off Helen. She felt cold sweat on her back. “Would you please kindly send up the worst fighter in our force?”
She disappeared as quick as she came.
“Swords or spears, hatchling?” Syllan spoke again with his commanding voice.
Helen wanted to say daggers, of course, but also didn’t need to dig this hole even deeper. Besides, the fact that she didn’t prefer them, didn’t mean she wasn’t an expert in other weapons. The master that taught her and Zeke was adamant on them being adept in every situation, with every tool available. She was confident she could take the sergeant, let alone the worst fighter in her force, with a stick in her hands.
A young soldier emerged from the stairs. He was out of armor, wearing just a black leather tunic and a weapon belt across his shoulder. A golden pin was secured on his chest.
“Private Amryn, reporting for duty, sir,” he said, his voice a little shaky. Helen thought she spotted him glancing at Dahlia for a second, like he remembered her from somewhere. He had long raven black hair that was pulled behind his head in a tight bun. A long scar that went all the way from his cheekbone to his chin, messed up an otherwise dull face.
“Have we met before, private?” Syllan asked, finally moving away. Helen let out a breath of relief.
“Yes sir, I served under you on the operation of Luciv’dea, sir,” he said, clearly proud.
“That was a good mission.”
“Yes sir, one hundred and eighty-five saved, sir.”
“You see, private Amryn,” Syllan turned back towards the recruits. “Recruit Helen here thinks she is better than the grounded forces. Would you mind putting her in place with your sword?”
“No sir! Would be my honor, sir.” The boy unsheathed his blade and gave an armed salute to Helen.
Helen drew her own sword from her back. It was well balanced, a good blade made from steel. Less sharp and more durable than the stone weapons she was used to, and a little bit heavier. She looked at the lieutenant with expectation.
“Well, begin,” Syllan said with a smile on his face that reminded her of Faelix.
Helen didn’t have any use for subtleties or chivalry. She had spent years perfecting her body’s movements. She lunged at the boy with a decisive stab. When he shifted his guard to parry it, she shifted her weight and took a swing from what was supposed to be his blind spot.
The soldier’s body shifted perfectly in sync with the blade. He slapped it aside with his free hand, no sign of emotion on his face. Before Helen could recoup from the attack’s momentum, he took a step forward and punched her in the chest with the pummel of his sword. He retreated into a high guard, holding the sword above his head with both his hands.
Helen grunted, biting her lips. Pushing her anger down with all her willpower, she went into a calculated flurry. Everywhere her blade went, however tricky her attacks, his blade was there to meet it. Their swords clashed so many times, it would have been enough to shatter any stone blade. Every stab and swing she attempted; his own sword came down like a meteor from that gods-damned high guard. When she attacked low to take advantage of it, she was rewarded with a jump that preceded a light tap on her head with the side of his sword.
Fifteen minutes later, Helen was breathless and sweating, her heart beat rough with anger and shame. Her opponent’s movements were as smooth as when they first started.
“Enough!” Syllan’s voice boomed around them. “Are you satisfied, hatchling?”
Helen wanted to object, her pride hopelessly searched for something to cling to. Maybe she wouldn’t lose if she had her daggers, or if the weapons were made of stone instead of steel, and there was no way this guy was the worst in their forces. Beyond it though, she knew it was empty vanity. She had never been humbled like that, she was toyed with for minutes on end. She had no doubt Amryn could have ended their fight the moment it started.
“Yes, sir,” she said between her breaths. She gave an armed salute to Amryn, who graciously responded in same.
“You are dismissed, private.” Syllan patted the boy on the shoulders. “Tell your staff sergeant to focus on circular movements, that’s where you are lacking most.”
Amryn disappeared after another salute.
“As you can see,” Syllan said as Helen took her place back in line. “No matter how good you were on the Seventh Spire, you have to be much better to leave Dragon Spire. Don’t feel too bad, hatchling. Every year there is at least one like you that needs to be humbled, you did better than most I have seen.
“Now then,” he clapped his hands once. “On to teaching you hatchlings how to give a proper salute.