Dragon School_Initiate Read online

  I licked my lips nervously. “There must be other Purples here...”

  “There are not.” She clapped a hand on my shoulder with a strong smile. “Consider it your first job as a Purple Dragon Rider. Someday, this will be your life.”

  She strode out of the cote and I followed, not wanting to be alone with Ahlskibi. I wanted more than anything, for Leng to be whole again, but I couldn’t avoid the nagging feeling that I should open the cylinder and read the missive inside. There were too many secrets at Dragon School and I wanted to know what they were.

  Chapter Four

  All I could think about while I sat the geography and nations exam were Leng and the cylinder that was still tucked in my waistband.

  Concentrate. You know the name of the High Castelan who governs the Ruby Islands.

  Without prompting from Raolcan I’d be failing this examination, but who wouldn’t be curious when they held a Dominion Dispatch on their person? I fought to answer the questions on my slate instead of envisioning what must have happened that left Leng with a quarrel in the back and an important missive in his hand. If he’d risked his life to deliver this message, it should be read by a Dominion Envoy, not held by a Dragon School Initiate who had only just achieved the grey uniform.

  Even Grandis Leman seemed nervous as he supervised our examination. His gaze drifted constantly to the wide-open windows and his fingers tapped a rhythm on the desk. Something about his expression reminded me of a bird about to leap from a branch.

  At the end of the examination, he appeared relieved, ringing a tiny silver bell to signal the end of our time and then carefully collecting our slates for examination.

  “Good luck to all of you,” he said, as he worked. “Those who pass will continue on with Dragon School. Those who do not will be given to the servant halls. Remember, each step of your training is equally important. None of this is optional to learn. It will mean life or death for you as Dragon Riders.”

  Really, it was a wonder that there were any Dragon Riders at all. I chewed my lip, hoping my distraction hadn’t hurt my chance of passing the exam and followed the others out of the examination room. Squeals of delight broke out from somewhere at the front of the line but Savette leaned in from beside me, her forehead lined with worry.

  “How did you do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I was distracted. How did you do?”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. They won’t let me be a Dragon Rider anyway.”

  “Why not?” Maybe now, with more time to have thought about it, she would tell me.

  Her expression was cynical – a wry twist of the lips. “I’m a High Castelan. They have other plans for me.”

  “Once you get in Dragon School, there’s no leaving,” I reminded her, happy in the comfort of that. “You’re either a Dragon Rider or a servant after that.”

  Savette barked a harsh laugh. “I used to think that was true, too. Enjoy the celebrations. They’re putting on a huge banquet for the Magikas there will be food you’ve never tasted before.”

  She slipped away through the moving crowd of students leaving my belly rumbling at the thought of a banquet. Ahead of us the servants were stringing bunting and hanging colored lanterns along the side of each of the tiered levels of Dragon School – the only school I’d ever heard of that was built into the side of a cliff. The examinations had been long and now dusk covered the landscape below. Snaking through the dusk was a snake-like trail of bright lights. What was that?

  Magikas with their magic lights, Raolcan informed me.

  I stopped, letting myself enjoy my first sight of Magikas – even if they were so far away that I couldn’t make out the actual people. I couldn’t wait to eat with them tonight, but first I needed to do something more important.

  Chapter Five

  I snuck up to the healing ward, grateful for the excitement all around me. No one was looking at what one crippled girl was doing with decorations to hang, looks to primp and last-minute cleaning and preparation to help with. I squeezed between Tamas and an elderly woman who were lighting the colored lanterns. I smiled at Tamas, but he turned his face away, just like he had every time I tried to talk to him since the night of First Flight.

  It made me feel both sorry for him and incredibly angry at myself. Could I have been a better friend? Could I have guessed what he was going through and helped him? Who else was I letting down by not noticing their problems? Savette needed help, but she wasn’t willing to get it from me yet.

  My thoughts kept me occupied until I reached the healing halls on the second level – all levels of Dragon School were named from the top down, level one being where the Dragon Cotes were at the top of the cliffside. A pair of guards were stationed at the entrance, but they didn’t so much as blink as I walked between them and into the ward. Likely, they thought I was here for help, not to find Leng.

  There was no Healer at their counter in the entrance, although cut herbs beside a pestle and a small sickle nearby suggested that someone was around. I limped past the counter and into the airy rooms beyond. Warm fires crackled in the wide hearths, but even here the windows were kept open so that the fresh air from outside could refresh the spirits of those recovering in the healing ward. I peeked behind curtains, one at a time, looking for Leng. All the beds were empty – probably a good thing – until I saw a lump lying in a bed.

  I was about to step behind the curtain when I realized who it was – Dannil, his arm missing where his dragon had bit it clean off. His gaze was looking out the window, but his expression was sad. No wonder. I, of all people, knew what it was like to live without the use of a limb.

  I snuck back, letting the curtain fall back in place. I should know what to say to him to help him, but I didn’t. I could say that he would find ways to deal with the pain, that he would find ways to do the things he needed to, but would that be of any comfort to him? We both knew that mockery – while very real – was the least of his worries. He’d be a servant here with just one arm. His prospects had gone from soaring to plummeting and there was nothing I could do for him to fix the hole that had torn in who he was.

  With a heavy heart, I continued my search. There. One curtain was tied open and within was a white bed with white sheets. Leng laid there on the bed, on his belly with his bare back exposed. The wound was packed with a poultice and dressed, and the quarrel was set on a silver platter beside him. A Healer worked over him, daubing his forehead with a cloth and wiping dried blood from his skin. My belly flipped with worry. Would the injury cause a fever that could take his life? Had something vital been hit by the quarrel? Would he be crippled like me – or worse, die from the shot? I swallowed hard, blinking back tears at the thought. I knew so little about Leng, but everything that I knew I liked. It felt wrong for someone so wild and free and full of vitality to be crumpled on a white bed.

  The Healer looked up from her work, sympathy in her aged face.

  “Are you lost, initiate? Do you need care for an injury?”

  I shook my head, trying to compose myself before I spoke so that my emotion wouldn’t show in my words. “Will he live?”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps. It is a deadly injury, and he flew many hours after being shot. He lost blood and with it energy for healing.”

  “Can I help him?”

  “Are you a Class One Healer?” she asked, with a wry expression.

  I shook my head.

  “Then it’s best you leave it to the experts, initiate. We will do our best with him. Are you his friend?”

  I nodded. “Can I visit?”

  She paused, considering me before she spoke. Eventually, her gaze found my crutch and seemed to soften. “Don’t come too often. He needs his rest and he won’t know you’re here. Not yet, at any rate.”

  I nodded.

  “Run off and join the festivities. We’ll take good care of your friend.”

  I nodded and left, feeling the cylinder in my waistband to confirm it was still there
. Leng wasn’t going to be able to tell me what to do with it, but he’d left it in my charge. He wasn’t the only one who knew about it or where it came from, though, was he? I needed to ask the other person who might know what to do.

  Chapter Six

  “Ahlskibi?” I asked, peering into the dark cote. I really hoped she didn’t bite my head off ... literally.

  Just be polite, Raolcan advised.

  From below, the sound of seventh bell rang out – supper. I should be there, but I should also be here. It was hard to choose between good and best.

  “If you’re there, can we talk?”

  His head emerged from the dark, golden eyes glittering in the lantern light. He bared his teeth and I stepped back, trying not to stumble over my crutch.

  “Leng gave me this message.” I pulled the cylinder from my waistband. It was as long as my hand and as wide around as my finger. Not large, by any means, but it felt heavy. Maybe that was just a trick of the mind. After all, it was weighted with responsibility. “I’m not sure what to do with it. Maybe I should wait for him to recover and give it back to him. Or, maybe I need to give it to someone right away. Can you help me?”

  He says that it needs to go to a Dominion Envoy.

  He could speak for himself. He didn’t need to talk through Raolcan.

  Don’t be rude. He’s not your dragon. He doesn’t want to touch your mind.

  I couldn’t help but feel frustrated, but I held it in check. “There isn’t a Dominion Envoy here or any other Purple Dragon Riders. What would Leng want me to do with it?”

  He wants you to hold onto it until you can get it to a Dominion Envoy. He says it’s important.

  Maybe I should read it. Maybe Grandis Elfar was wrong about that part. If it were urgent, then someone should read it and act on it. The fact that Leng was shot should be proof enough. Maybe Ahlskibi could tell me who shot him and why.

  He doesn’t want to talk about that.

  Maybe he should anyway. He wasn’t doing Leng any favors staying closed-mouthed about this.

  How do you know?

  Either way, I wasn’t getting answers here.

  “Thank you for the help.” It was hard to get that out without letting irritation drip into my voice. I tucked the cylinder back into my waistband, adjusted my crutch and limped away.

  Learn patience. Raolcan’s advice followed me. Learn patience? I had to be patient all the time. Patient when I couldn’t do things quickly, patient when no one believed in me, patient when it took me five times the effort to do something that was easy for other people. If I was anything, it was patient. But this was different. It felt important, somehow.

  I scooted onto the bench and lowered myself to the banquet hall. At least I could rest there and enjoy some good food without having to worry about important messages or problems.

  Chapter Seven

  Mouthwatering scents, the clatter of dishes, the murmur of voice upon voice, and the warmth of many bodies packed into one space greeted me as I entered the dining hall. Steam puffed up from serving dishes as the covers were removed and they were placed on the broad tables. Big, scrumptious dinners were typical at Dragon School but tonight the food had doubled. Fresh fruit cut and heaped on platters and large pitchers of mulled wine were on every table along with freshly baked rolls and juicy meats. My mouth was watering before I’d hobbled a single step into the hall.

  Someone had strung brightly colored cloths across the ceiling and hung thickly embroidered banners on every space of wall. The colored lanterns had multiplied here. Not only were they hung at intervals over every table, but they were piled on benches at the side of the room and on the edges of serving tables and over arched doorways. Crimson, emerald, golden and cyan light gave the room a magical feel – appropriate, considering our guests.

  The Magikas were not hard to pick out among our Dragon Rider ranks. Where dragon riders were sun-baked and dark, they were pale. Where we were dressed in closely fitted leathers, they wore insulating, fur-trimmed robes large enough to smuggle a baby dragon under. Where we wore braids and scarves as trim, they had golden ornaments and impractical staves, with no clear purpose.

  I felt shy in their presence, though none were looking at me, and tried to slip around the edge of the room to the table where most of my wave of initiates sat. I couldn’t avoid them completely, as they were spread out between the tables, but there didn’t seem to be many Magikas at the initiate tables.

  “It’s strange to be here and not see droves of trainees,” one Magika commented to Grandis Leman as I slipped by. “I mean, you have some, but there are no wet-behind-the-ears recruits here.”

  “We’ve been ordered to halt recruitment for the time being,” Grandis Leman replied. “All commoners that can be spared are being funneled to the army. It takes years to train a Dragon Rider to usefulness. But mere weeks to train a hand to hold a spear.”

  The Magika grunted in reply and I moved on. The conversation seemed jovial enough, despite a serious air that pervaded everything. Not for the first time, I itched to read the missive I carried. Would it have news that would make sense of all this?

  I found my usual table and slid onto a seat beside Savette, grabbing a roll and tossing it on my plate. At Dragon School, everyone had a healthy appetite and if you wanted to eat, you needed to be quick about it.

  “I didn’t know you allowed the Blighted in your ranks,” an arrogant voice cut over the conversation around me. I found the speaker across the table from me, talking to Daedru, but there was no mistaking that she meant me. I hadn’t heard that derogatory term in a long time. Blighted – as if I were a plant taken by a pestilence and not a girl

  Daedru blushed at the girl’s words. She was incredibly beautiful – a rival to Savette, though with black, cropped hair to Savette’s long silver hair and a very buxom display in the keyhole neckline of her robes, compared to Savette’s willowy slenderness.

  “It’s not up to me what the Grandis allow. This is not my Castel.” He looked embarrassed, as if my presence was a shame to him.

  I sighed inwardly. This, again? I thought I’d dispelled doubt and prejudice the night I’d ridden Raolcan. My own classmates had eased their disdain, but now it seemed I had to prove myself all over again.

  “Why are you here, girl?” the female Magika asked, raising her voice like I was deaf or particularly dense.

  “The crutch isn’t for her ears. She can hear you just fine,” Savette answered for me. Her eyes were far away – clearly still fretting on whatever problem she had, but that didn’t keep her from noticing what was happening.

  “I don’t think I asked you, High Castelan,” the Magika said. I didn’t like the way her lip curled.

  “Respectfully, I’m here to train as a Dragon Rider, Magika,” I said.

  She scoffed. “I’m not a Magika. I’m a Magika Apprentice. I should have guessed you wouldn’t know enough to see that. Still, ignorance is no excuse. Neither is being Blighted. In Magika training we refine that out of you – beat it out or delve you so deep that the Blight leaves. Being around the Blighted fogs our magical reckoning. They leave a stain.”

  How did you beat your leg into working again? I’d always been in awe of Magikas. I was starting to revise my opinion.

  “Then it’s a good thing you won’t be around us for long,” Savette said, almost absently.

  “Think again,” the Magika girl said with a smirk, and while she was still gloating over us, Grandis Dantriet stood and clinked his knife on his glass, waiting for the roar of voices to die down before he spoke in a loud, clear tenor.

  “Attention Dragon Riders and Students. We are pleased to welcome our fellow servants of the Dominion here tonight. To the Magikas and their apprentices, we give our sincerest welcome. They have brought with them an Envoy of the Dominion to speak to us. Please, give him your full attention. His missive is from the Dominar himself.”

  Grandis Dantriet sat down and a tall, drawn man with a dark face and eyes took his
place. The man wore Dominion silver, his clothing thickly embroidered and his collar high in the Dominion style. He pulled out a cylinder from his waistband – one that looked almost identical to the one in mine. I felt for mine, wanting to be sure I had not lost it, that he wasn’t holding my treasure. From within it, he drew a white paper, unrolled it an read it out in a clear, bell-like voice.

  “From the towers to the seas, all ravens fly and with them, the stars of the sky, to their appointed places.”

  Around me, the full Dragon Riders gasped a stillness filling the room like a fog. I exchanged confused glances with Savette and the other initiates. What in the world did that mean?

  Grandis Dantriet stood again, his face pale. He tried to speak but had to clear his throat twice before he could.

  “At the decree of our Dominar,” he said, his voice trembling. “We fly.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Wait!” I called, trying to push through the excited crowd. Everyone was on their feet talking, shouting, and questioning those around them. I watched the Dominion Envoy disappear out the door while I was still trying to pick my way through the throng without stabbing someone in the foot with my crutch. Here he was – an envoy of the Dominar – the only person to give the message to and he was gone like a breath in the wind. I clenched my teeth, putting my head down to try to push between four Greens engaged in an intense debate.

  From the back of the room, a voice rose over the others – Grandis Elfar. “Initiates of all levels are to present themselves in the dorms immediately or risk expulsion.”

  I deflated. My chance to catch the envoy was gone. Savette pushed in beside me, no one ever stood in her way when she wanted to be somewhere.

  “Come on, Amel,” she said. “Let’s get to the dorm.”