Warbound

“A Dragon without its rider is a tragedy, a rider without its dragon is dead” Article one, section one, Rider’s Codex.

40% of cadets die on assessment day, maybe that’s why the sunrise seemed especially beautiful this morning, since I know it’s probably my last.

            I throw my pack over my shoulder and drag myself down the stairs of the fortress I used to call home. Now, being here is a curse, a death wish. My lungs struggle to expand from exertion as I finally reach the front door.

            I’m so screwed.

            Thousands of candidates stand waiting at the gate of Vyrrendor, most of them trained since birth. Clever, strong, swift, the elite of the generation all gathered here to become a rider. To bond with a dragon, to fight on the front lines soaring through the clouds. Me? I’ve trained for exactly 3 weeks. I would’ve become a scribe if my damned general of a mother didn’t decide to put me in the riders quadrant at the last second.

            “I won’t watch any children of mine become a scribe,” she demanded 3 weeks ago, back then, I had been studying for the scribes entrance exam, the toughest in the world. I had promise, professors claimed, I was the top of every class and destined to be a name remembered in history. But now? Now I’m no one, a sick, tiny weakling in a sea of the best. I was promised success, now the only thing that's guaranteed in my future is death.

            The gates open with a long, drawn out creak. Candidates began entering, fighting to be first in line. I follow the group and enter the gates. My eyes shift to the steep steps in front of me. With no railings whatsoever we were supposed to climb that to get to the assessment, I sigh, this is already a test itself.

            I glanced at the girl in front of me, her brown hair flowing loose in the wind, she wore a shawl, and some rain boots to bear the storm brewing right this second. Big mistake. The winds are too strong up there, without sturdy, waterproof boots and tight leathers that cling to your skin, you are destined to fly off. I tap her shoulder, and she twists her head around, frightened.

            “What's your shoe size?” I asked hurriedly as the line moved up again, we were around 40 steps away from the platform.

            “What?” the girl questions,

            “Switch shoes with me,” I tell her, already untying one of my laces,

            “No?” her face wrinkled with confusion,

            “Your shoes aren’t sturdy or waterproof, with no patterned soles you’ll slip right off the second you step on to the bridge.” I hurriedly explain, the girl nods and quickly removes one of her boots, switching with me. “Take off your shawl too, trust me it doesn’t keep you warm up there and you’ll get blown off like a kite.” She quickly follows as someone from behind us yells,

            “Move it up! It’s too late to turn back now!” Why am I being nice in this situation, I might just die from that shoe switch.

            I finally reach the platform, a tall, raven headed rider stands there, holding a board recording names. My focus shifts to the lines on his arm, a rebellion mark, he’s a child of the rebellion.

            “Name?” He requests, glancing at me, shock and hatred filling his eyes when he realizes who i am.

            “Amelia Sgaeyl” I reply,

            “Your General Sgaeyl’s daughter,” he realizes, hatred slithering from his tongue,

            “I am, and you're Varek Gray, your father killed my brother,” I stare up at him, all sense of fear disappearing as grief and fury courses through my veins. “Are you here to kill me?”   

            “I wouldn’t need to kill you, you’ll die on the first day anyway,” He smirks, “Better get moving, Sgaeyl, before someone else ends you for me,”

            “Like you’ll ever get the chance,” I turn away and step onto the stone bridge, my senses heightening as my focus turns to the cavern below me, standing 200 ft in the air, distance unknown, the bridge, being only 12 inches from one side to the other is the easiest place for riders to die on the first day, even easier today because of the storm.

            “Keep your gaze in front of you, don’t look down, distract yourself and just keep moving,” Axel had bragged to the family after his return from Vyrrendor’s riders quadrant. He had been the top of his class, acing everything and flying his gray daggertail, learning maneuvers faster than I learned to count. He was the favorite in the family, the Ace, he had so much potential, but then he was killed, murdered at the front lines, by the leader of the rebellion, Ezra Gray.

            I began walking, one step at a time, I watched as the shawl girl on the steps made it to the courtyard and cheered. Good, she deserved to survive. I will not die today, especially not in front of Gray. I step slowly, holding out my arms when suddenly a timid scream comes from behind me. I turn and watch in surprise as a man uses his brute force to throw a small red head off the stone down towards the cavern. His screams echoing off the walls as he falls all the way down. I turn away, he’s dead, another name added to the collection of stone slabs at the bottom of the valley. He looks up at me and smiles, “You’re up next, Sgaeyl” he begins barreling towards me, his balance astounding. I turn around and sprint, my heart pounding at 100 miles per hour. I begin reciting scribe lessons, to distract myself from my current situation.

            “I am currently located in the kingdom of Valiskar, we are currently in a war with the Khalessian Empire, I am right now in the college of Vyrrendor, trying to become a rider. There are four quadrants in the college, scribes, menders, infantry and riders. The rider quadrant is the only quadrant you cannot be forced into. Except for the children of the rebellion, a group of people decided to rebel against Valiskar and sneak weapons and fight against Valiskarian outposts. The rebellion was mass executed, the leader of the Rebellion was Ezra Gray, Varek Gray’s father,  his execution was personally overseen by my mother, General Sgaeyl. The Rebellion's children were all branded by King Hawthorne’s dragon personally. All 107 of them, and they were all forced into the riders quadrant at 19, basically a death sentence to those untrained.” I recite, quickly stepping one foot at a time, now I’m about a half way done, I jerk my head around to see him staring at me. A sinister smile stretched across his face. Then he comes faster towards me, his strides taking up the distance between us with horrifying speed.

            I slip, my foot twisting under me and my back hits the wet, slippery surface of the stone. I twist and grasp the stone slab desperately. I curse, making myself as small as possible as the wind howls around me. Panic seized me as my lungs threatened to hyperventilate. A laugh comes from behind me,

            “Can’t even stay on the bridge? Ha, you’re gonna die before I even get to you, but let's hang on, alright, Sgaeyl? I want the pleasure of killing you before the rain does.”

            “What is your freaking problem?” I scream back at him, pulling myself up with pure desperation.

            “I don’t know, maybe it’s because I just have a thing for killing children of the privileged,” He shrugs, stalking towards me.

One wrong move, one wrong move is all I need to slip and fall 200 feet to my death. One wrong move and this brute will grab me and toss me to my death. One wrong move and my mom will be officially childless. I placed my hands on the sides of the stone, walking was hard enough, but standing up, even harder. Screams ring all around me as cadets fall off from the strong gusts of wind. I slowly stand up, shaking nervously. I have to get up, have to, or else, the guy will get to me and kill me. Arms out, Walk.

“An agreement was signed between Valiskar and the Khalessian Empire 400 years ago, so that the Khalessians wouldn’t try to break through the Valiskarian Wards.” I can see the Riders Quadrant from here, the enormous stone pillars of the citadel rise up the mountain to the base of the structure, where I know this path ends if I could just get there. Walls surround me as I enter the last section of the bridge. Good, I made it. I finally reach the courtyard when suddenly, a rush of air comes from behind me as a mass tackles me to the ground. Adrenaline rushes through me as I twist on to my back, pulling out my dagger from the sheath tightened to my thigh and pushing the blade into my assailant’s throat.

“Looks like she's got you by the throat there,” A blonde rider stands to the side, “Name?”

“Katz,” The man responds, “Aiden Katz” He smirks at me, His hands gripping tightly onto my sides. “What would happen if I threw her off right here and now?”

“As Sgaeyl here has already reached the courtyard, she is a cadet. But you are not,” the rider points at Aiden’s feet, which are still planted and at the edge of the stone slab. “So if you threw her off, you would be immediately executed.”

“Why?” The codex clearly states that cadets are permitted to kill within the perimeter of Vyrrendor without consequence,” Aiden grunts,

“Actually, according to Article 2, section 4 of the codex, killing a cadet during formation in front of officials is actually punishable immediately by death,” I counter, smirking,

“Smart-a*s,” he grunts,

“But Sgaeyl here can kill you without consequence since you, Katz, are not yet a cadet,” the rider offers, “So, what do you choose Sgaeyl? You can slit his throat right here and now and be done with him,” I push Aiden off of me and stand,

“He’s not worth the trouble,” I walk away, leaving Aiden standing here, fuming.

“The killing of other cadets is not permitted in the presence of officials or when they are asleep. An offense of the codex is immediately punishable by death.”

Article 2, Section 4, Rider’s Codex

            “When you complete the first assessment, DO NOT immediately open up, you must observe your surroundings, find out who might become your enemies. Trust your squad and your squad ONLY,” my mother had instructed me the day before assessment day. I peer around, studying my surroundings. We were in the main courtyard of Vyrrendor, where formation is supposed to be. Cadets and officials are spread out around the large courtyard. No one appears to be a crucial threat other than Aiden Katz, he’s still standing near the entrance of the bridge, glaring at me.

Suddenly, the sound of wingbeats pushing against gravity fills the air. I look up at dragons looming over us, they suddenly dive downwards vertically, whipping the air with their huge semi-translucent wings, and perch on the walls surrounding the courtyard. Their chest scales rippled with movement  as their razor-sharp talons dug into the edge of the walls. Their riders sliding to their shoulders and executing perfect slide maneuvers off their dragons onto the sharp blades of grass that spread across the flight field. Literally everything in the quadrant is designed to hurt you. A scream ripples through the courtyard as a cadet sprints towards the bridge in fear. The maroon red dragon, no doubt the largest of the dragons here, narrowed his eyes at the cadet. Smoke fuming out from his nostrils before he unlocks his jaws and fire incinerates the cadet where she stood, a pile of ashes left behind.

The word “mercy” does not exist in Vyrrendor, especially in the rider's quadrant. Everyone in the yard freezes, some cadets with tears in their eyes, glinting under the bright sun. A figure steps out of the shadows below the dragon, Varek Gray. Of course it had to be him, I rolled my eyes.

His ice-blue eyes glowing with amusement as he stares at the pile of ash before looking up at his dragon, “Cath, you gotta give the other dragons a chance to do the dirty work,” he pats the ankles of Cath, his head only reaching up to Cath’s ankles maybe a bit higher.

“Why the hell are you smiling? Your stupid dragon just killed someone!” a brunette guy yells, marching up to Varek. Varek turns his focus to him, suddenly, the cadet lets out a guttural scream of pure agony, and drops to his knees, gripping his head as if a demon was ripping him to shreds from the inside.

Varek stares at the guy, the smirk long gone,

“Do you feel invincible now you're a cadet? Indestructible? Unbeatable? First lesson, Cadet, to them, you’re just prey.” Varek walks away, joining the wing leaders as the guy curls up on the hard pavement, pain clearly rippling from his body in literal waves. I look away, the Gray house had been known to have insane signets(powers), Ezra Gray, his dad, was able to unweave wards, which were shields created to keep out individuals, creatures, and some wielders. But Varek, he’s a sensation manipulator, never seen before, he has the ability to control one's sensations, but Varek Gray, only uses it to inflict pain with one look.

            A Professor stands at the podium, Professor Bryne, appearing unbothered. The podium was placed in the middle of the courtyard. Created perfectly for formation. His booming voice dragged our attention from Cath and Varek.

            “We will now assign formations, these squads you are placed in are the only people that aren’t permitted to murder you any moment. Put your trust in these individuals above any other,” the professor announces. Riders stand to the sides of her, and begin assigning squads and sections.

“Amelia Sgaeyl, squad 3, fang section, fourth wing,” a rider calls out, I move into formation, looking around at my squad. There are two spots still open, the four other spots taken up already by other first-year cadets. Aiden is called to second wing, thank god.

“Lyra Pierce, squad 3, fang section, fourth wing,” the shawl girl from before skips joyously to her spot, and gasps, enveloping me in a tight hug before thanking me giddily.

“She’s interesting,” a brunette guy in our squad whispers, I think his name is Kai. Anders, another first year, snorts, Lyra turns around, glares at Kai and Anders, before coming to my side. Two more cadets are called into our squad, Aaliyah and Emilie, they both appear trained, Emilie’s small like me. Aaliyah is taller, her black hair whipped into a tight bun. Formation is complete and

Professor Bryne returns to the stage,

“273 of you have survived the first assessment. Part one of the trials of three. Good job, 124 of you did not.” She announces, 124, 124 of the cadets died trying to become a rider. They threw away the guaranteed safety of the other quadrants to attempt the slim chance of becoming a rider. And they died. On the first day. I quickly calculate the math in my head, that's at least 29% of the group. “As the codex states, you are all officially cadets of Vyrrendor riders quadrant! You will be tested by your professors, hunted by your peers, and will have to adapt to survive! If you survive to endure Threshing and bond, you’ll become a rider. Let's see who makes it to graduation. Good luck.”

“The sparring mats are where Cadets’ skills are truly tested, where they are broken down and rebuilt by relying on the possibility of survival.”

Lieutenant Axel Sgaeyl’s Guide, Created for Amelia Sgaeyl,

Page three, section 5

            “Nicole Kato, Alexzander Thatcher,” Assistant Professor Rhinne announces, reading the death scroll from yesterday. We stood in formation, now in a sea of black, as we were given mandatory outfits yesterday. One single star was sewn onto my shoulder, signifying first years. Sitting below the star was my squad, section and wing. There was no point giving us the actual thicker protective rider’s leathers as half of us would be dead by november when threshing is set anyway. Over 100 candidates died yesterday, and most of us had realized that the only way out of this place is either graduation, or death.

            “Sara Kalman, we salute their bravery, and commend their souls to Nyxarion.” Professor Rhine completes. “Today, we are introducing the first-years to the sparring rings, the name is self explanatory. You will begin or continue your classes as normal and remember to check the board for your assignments.”

            “Sparring rings?” Lyra whispers, “Is killing allowed?”

            Anders snorts, “Killing is allowed everywhere.” Lyra glances away, nervously fiddling with her dagger hilt. The Kai clears his throat and looks around the courtyard, as if searching for something to say but coming up empty. The silence stretches, growing more palpable with each passing second, making the squads increasingly uncomfortable.

            Varek steps onto the podium as the fourth wing wingleader.

            “Cadets, I expect you to have memorized your schedules that we handed out yesterday afternoon,” Varek’s voice booms over us, his eyes connecting with everyone in the crowd. “Stick together, and don't get into trouble, I expect to see you all alive when we meet for sparring, You’re dismissed.”

            Shoot, I realized Varek is gonna be at sparring, which means he has the perfect opportunity to get his revenge. I still had to survive sparring every three days a week, and finish the Second Trial, Aka a course built on the side of a cliff, created to test our agility, quick thinking, and strength. And then Threshing. The third trial.

\

            “And if we’re not?” a guy asks sarcastically,

            “Then I won’t need to learn your name, since it’s gonna be on the death scroll tomorrow anyway,” Varek shrugs.

            I walk into the main lobby area of the citadel with Lyra and Anders. Discussing the sparring assignments later today, I had gotten a girl from the second wing who doesn’t appear that experienced with hand to hand combat. But i'm barely trained, so I might just die anyway. Lyra had gotten a guy from the first wing, the strongly built “caveman” But Lyra’s fast and uses her agility as an advantage. She’ll be fine. And Finally Anders, he was assigned to spar against a girl from our wing, she’s like Lyra, small, flexible and agile. I need to learn from them. Anders’s okay with spar, haven't seen him fight though so I can’t really predict the outcome.

            I look across the room as Lyra and Anders bicker about who has better chances of winning, and I see a pair of Ice cold eyes glaring at me. The eyes of Varek Gray. Shoot, Varek Gray is glaring at me. Anders looks in my direction and sees me trying to hold on to my bladder. He glances towards Varek and his eyes widen.

            “Amelia, I don’t think the wingleader likes you,” he nervously comments, Varek begins walking towards me, a dagger in hand. Run, Run, Run, “Amelia, run,” Anders orders, “now please,” I flee.

“Knowing I am in direct disagreement with General Vandenburg's orders, I am officially objecting to the plan put in motion in today’s briefing. Although the rebels have acted on multiple counts of treason, their children should not be forced to watch the executions, as no child should ever watch their parents be put to death.”

General Edith Sgaeyl,

 letter to King Beef, and Queen Wellington

“Welcome to the sparring rings,” Professor Finn, our main HTH (Hand-to-Hand) Combat instructor aka professor announced. “Don’t expect any help, or last second separations. This isn’t wrestling, weapons ARE allowed.  This he pauses  is life, or death.

Uncomfortable silence fills the air as first assignments are called out.

“Snyder. Carr. Mat 8.”

“Mintz. Anders Baek, Mat 3.” Professor Finn yells, Kai smacks Anders on the back, and Emlilie laughs,

“Remember, don’t aim for the face, you wanna beat them, not destroy their self worth,” Aaliyah smiles at Anders and teases.

            “Callum Park, Sgaeyl, you’re up, Mat 6!” A chill runs down my spine, what? I thought I was against Sonia Park, his sister, not Callum.

            “Hurry up Sgaeyl!” The professor calls out, I’m no way ready for this, I glance at Callum, he’s tall, but not a brute. He appears trained and confident. I’m finished.

            I stand on the corner of the mat, keeping my focus on Callum’s stance. He stares me down, analyzing me for any weapons. I begin slowly circling the mat, and Callum follows, keeping his eyes on me at all times as he makes the first move, pouncing towards me. I  side step, barely avoiding his strike. He strikes again, pulling out his choice of weaponry. Two modified batons, metal spikes screwed to the sides of the metal bars, glinting under the bright lights of the sparring quarters. I back up, sliding out two of my six daggers strapped to my sides. Holding them out in front of me, I prepare for my imminent death.

            Callum makes the first strike again, swinging his batons at my sides, I manage to block one with my daggers but the other crashes into my stomach, white searing pain takes over my senses and I collapse to the mat, gripping my abdomen as blood seeps through my fingers.

            “Amelia! Get UP!” Lyra yells from the side lines, as Callum dashes towards me, the bloody batton held up, prepared to bash my head in. Move, NOW. I grunt, spinning back onto my feet and kicking the back of Callums knees. Bringing him to the ground. I jump onto his back and grab my daggers, stabbing him, once, twice. He grabs me by my hair and throws me onto my back gripping my neck, squeezing before leaning down next to my ears.

            “Sorry Sgaeyl, Professor’s orders.”

            I wince as he squeezes tighter, blocking my airway.

            “Amelia, tap out!” Anders screamed, at least he survived. I squirm under Callum’s grip. Trying to get a hold of my daggers laying on the mat beside me. Callum kicks them out, landing at the feet of Varek Gray. He glances towards us. He looks at me, and then Callum. Before grabbing my daggers and strapping them onto his sides. Damn bastard. I grip his hands, grabbing a dagger and slashing his hand, drawing blood. Callum yells in frustration and backs up. Releasing his grip. My lungs fill with the sweet, fresh air of the room. Backing up, I grip a vial. Strapped to my unstriked side. Taking the vial, I hide it behind my back, pouring the liquid onto my palms.

            Callum staggers towards me and I run towards him, ducking behind his first strike and grabbing his face. He ripped my hands off, choking. He falls to his knees, gripping his neck. Gasping for air. I watch as he slowly asphyxiates. Collapsing to the ground. I fall to my knees next to Callum’s body. Wheezing.

            “Damn Sgaeyl, you killed a man on the first day,” Kai laughs awkwardly. The room quiets, everyone except the fighters. Their grunts and screams rippled throughout the room. Varek stares at me, looking, almost, proud.

            I stagger to my feet, I barely survived that one. I grip my side and limp towards my squad. Lyra standing there, shocked.

            “What was in the bottle?” Kai asks,

            “Cyanide, it was supposed to put him in a coma, not death,” I answer, guilt overwhelming me.

            “It was smart,” Lyra whispers, “Don’t feel bad, Gray did say it’s life or death,”

“Where did you get those vials of poison?” Anders questions, stunned.

 I stumble, pain searing through my side, I look down, a puddle of blood surrounds me, Varek’s younger cousin, Damon, grabs my arm, keeping me from blacking out.

            “This one’s lost too much blood,”

            “Questions can wait,” Varek demands, as a mender runs up to assess my injuries.

I glance one last time at the mats before I’m carried out and I watch as they toss Callum’s body into a bag and drag him out towards the crematorium. Sonia glares at me, tears streaming down her face.

“In the best interest for the safety and peace within Valiskar, all marked ones are now required to be placed into the Rider’s Quadrant of Vyrrendor War College. Recommended and agreed upon by General Sgaeyl and Vandenburg.”

Request placed by General Sgaeyl,

Active immediately after passing.

            I look up, higher, higher and higher. Fear coiling in my stomach.

            “That looks interesting,” Lyra swallows, her head tilted just as far as me. As we stare up at the menacing obstacle course built into the side of the cliff.

            “It’s amazing.” Aaliyah sighs.

Lyra and I turn, both staring at her like she must have hit her head.

“You think that hellscape looks amazing?” Lyra asks.

“I’ve been waiting years for this!” Aaliyah grins, her normally serious blue eyes glinting in the morning sun as she rubs her hands together, shifting from one toned leg to the other in glee. “My dad—he was a rider until he retired last year—used to set up obstacle courses like this all the time so we could practice, and Wyatt, my brother, said it’s the best part of being here before Threshing. It’s a real adrenaline rush.”

“He’s with the Northern Wing, right?” I ask, focusing on the obstacle course running up the side of a freaking cliff. It looks more like a death trap than an adrenaline rush, but sure, we can go with that. Positive thinking for the win, right?

“Yep. Pretty much desk duty for all the action they see near the Banzai border.” She shrugs and points about two-thirds up the course. “He said to watch out for those giant posts jutting from the side of the cliff. They spin, and you can get crushed if you’re not fast enough.”

            The obstacle represents my worst nightmare,

            “They call it the Second Trial,” Anders walked up next to me, cupping his hands and blowing into it to help with the cold.

            “Here we go!” Professor Bryne walks to the head of our line. “You’ll get your time at the top of the course, if you make it, but remember, this is the only opportunity to prove your abilities before we rank you for Presentation, which will determine if the dragons find you worthy at Threshing.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to let us practice this thing before?” Lyra asks. “You know, to give us a little more time so we don’t die?”

“No,” Professor Bryne replies. “The timing is part of the test. Any words of wisdom, Anders?”

Anders releases out a slow breath, his gaze moving up towards the course. “There are ropes every six feet that run from the top of the sheer cliffside to the bottom,” he says. “So if you start to fall, reach out and grab a rope. It’ll cost you thirty seconds, but death costs you more.”

Awesome.

“I mean, there’s a perfectly good set of steps over there.” Kai points to the steep staircase carved into the cliff .

“Stairs are for reaching the flight field on the top of the ridgeline after Presentation,” Professor Bryne says, then lifts her hands toward the course and shifts her wrist, pointing at various obstacles.

The fifteen-foot log at the start of the uphill climb begins to spin. The pillars on the third ascent shake. The giant wheel at the first switchback starts its counterclockwise rotation, and those little posts Aaliyah mentioned? They all twist in opposite directions.

“Every one of the five ascents on this course is designed to mimic the challenges you’ll face in battle.” Professor Bryne turns to look at us, her face just as stern as it is during our usual combat training. “From the balance you must keep on the back of your dragon, to the strength you’ll need to hold your seat during maneuvers, to”—she gestures upward, toward the last obstacle that looks like a ninety-degree ramp from this angle—“the stamina you’ll need to fight on the ground, then still be able to mount your dragon at a second’s notice.”

The posts knock a chunk of stone loose, and the rock tumbles down the course, smacking every obstacle in its path until it crashes seventy feet in front of us.

“Whoa,” Emilie whispers, her green eyes wide as she stares at the flattened rock. I’m the smallest of our squad, but Emilie is the quietest, the most reserved. I can count on one hand the number of times she’s spoken to me since Assessment Day. If she didn’t have friends in First Wing, I’d worry, but she doesn’t have to open up to us to survive the three years.

“You all right?” I ask her in a whisper.

She swallows and nods, one of her strawberry blonde curls bouncing against her forehead.

“What if we can’t make it up?” Kai asks from my right, “What’s the alternative route?”

“There’s no alternative. If you don’t make it, you can’t get to Presentation, can you? Take your position, Anders,” Professor Bryne orders, and Anders moves to the beginning of the course. “After he makes it past the final obstacle, so everyone can learn from this cadet completing the course, the rest of you will start every sixty seconds. And...go!”

Anders is off like a shot. He easily runs the fifteen feet across the single log spinning parallel with the cliff face and then the raised pillars, but it takes him three rotations inside the wheel before he jumps through the lone opening, but other than that, I don’t see a single misstep in the first ascent. Not. One.

He turns and rushes toward a series of giant hanging balls that make up the second ascent, jumping and hugging one after another. His feet back on the ground, he turns again and heads up the third ascent, which is divided into two sections. The first part has giant metal rods hanging parallel to the cliff wall, and he easily swings arm over arm, using his body’s weight and momentum to swing the bar forward and reach the next bar hanging half a foot higher than the previous as he climbs the side of the cliff. From the last bar, he jumps onto a series of shaking pillars that make up the second half of this ascent before finally leaping back onto the gravel path.

By the time he reaches the fourth ascent, the spinning logs Aaliyah’s brother warned us about, Anders’s made it all look like child’s play, and I start to feel a bubble of hope that maybe the course isn’t as difficult as it looks from the ground. But then he faces a giant chimney formation rising high above him at a twenty-degree angle and pauses.

“You got this!” Lyra yells from my side.

As though he heard, he sprints toward the leaning chimney and flings himself upward, grabbing onto the sides. Then starts hopping up the conduit until he reaches the end and drops down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff’s edge at a nearly vertical climb.

My breath catches in my throat as Anders sprints toward the ramp, using his speed and momentum to carry him two-thirds of the way up the ramp. Just before he starts to fall, he reaches up with one arm and grasps the lip of the ramp and hauls himself over the edge.

Lyra and I scream and cheer for him. He made it. In an almost flawless approach.

“Perfect score!” Professor Bryne calls out. “That’s exactly what you should all be doing.”

“Perfect, and yet he was still passed over at Threshing,” Kai snarks. “Guess the dragons have some sense of taste.” Anders had repeated first-year twice, cadets who aren’t chosen at Threshing had the opportunity to either change quadrants, or repeat the year. And Anders had chosen to repeat.

“Give it a rest, Kai,” Lyra says.

How could someone as smart and athletic as Anders not bond? And if he didn’t, what the hell kind of hope is there for the rest of us?

“I’m too short for the ramp,” I whisper to Lyra.

She glances over at me, and then back to the obstacle. “You’re wicked fast. If you get your speed up, I bet the momentum will take you to the top.”

Theo, the shy cadet from the Valiskar border region—struggles on the swinging steel rods in the third ascent due to some rather predictable hesitation on his part, but he nearly falls at the shaking pillars, reaching for a rope. I can only make out the flash of red from his hair when he starts the rotating stair steps, but I hear his scream all the way down, and the crack of his body against the stone as I turn away.

“Kai, start.” Professor Bryne orders, staring at her pocket watch. Kai begins, finishing the first few obstacles before tripping on the rolling polls, sliding down. He grips the poll tightly, his scream echoing down the cliff.

“You have to climb up!” Aaliyah screams up at Kai, he struggles before finally pulling himself up and uses his phenomenal arm strength to pull himself up the ramp.

“Amelia, go,”

Be with me, gods. I haven’t spent nearly enough time at the temple for the god of luck to care much about what happens to me right now, but it’s worth a shot. I bolt up the first part of the ascent, coming to the spinning log within seconds. My stomach feels like it’s being stirred by this balance beam from hell. “It’s just balance. You can balance,” I mumble and start across. “Quick feet. Quick feet. Quick feet,” I repeat all the way across, jumping off the end to land on the first of four granite columns, each one higher than the last.            There are about three feet between them, but I manage to leap from one pillar to the next without skidding off the ends. And this is the easy part. A knot of fear works its way up my throat. I jump into the rotating wheel and run, leaping over the only opening as it flies by once, then watching it come around a second time. Timing. This one is all about timing.

The opportunity comes and I seize it, racing through the opening and turning back onto the gravel path of the second ascent. The buoy balls are just ahead, but I’m going to fall on my ass if I don’t calm down and get my palms to stop sweating.

Feathertail dragons are the breed we know the least about, I recite in my mind, needing every ounce of my lung capacity as I spring from the edge of the path onto the first ball, grasping it up top like Lyra did. The immediate strain on my shoulders makes me tense every muscle to keep the joints from dislocating.

Stay calm. Stay calm.

Throwing my weight, I force the ball to rotate, swinging me toward the next one. This is because feathertails reportedly abhor violence and are not suitable for bonding.

I repeat motions, grasping from one ball to the next, keeping my eyes on the chains and nothing else.

Though this scholar cannot be certain, as one has never left the Vale within my lifetime. I continue reciting from memory as I reach the fifth and final ball. With one last swing, I throw myself sideways, releasing the ball and landing on the shoulder-wide gravel path without rolling an ankle.

It’s all momentum for the next ascent.

“Green dragons,” I mutter under my breath, “known for their keen intellect, descend from the honorable Uaineloidsig line, and continue to be the most rational of dragonkind, making them the perfect siege weapons, especially in the case of clubtails.” I finish as I line my body up with the first metal rod and get ready to sprint forward.            “Are you...studying?” Aaliyah calls up from where she leaps onto the first ball below.            “Calms me down,” I shoot back in quick explanation. There’s no time to be embarrassed here—that can wait for later. There are three iron rails in front of me, each lined up like a battering ram toward the next. “The Scribe Quadrant is looking pretty good right now,” I grumble under my breath, then launch myself toward the first. At least the texture gives me something to keep hold of as I work my way hand over hand. The ache in my shoulders grows into a throbbing pain when I reach the end of the first rail, swinging my feet to work up the momentum for the next.

The first clang of iron as the rails meet makes my fingers slip, and I gasp as terror claws its way out of my stomach. Orange dragons, coming in various shades of apricot to carrot, are the most—I throw myself to the next rail—unpredictable of dragonkind and therefore always a risk. I move across the rail with the same hand- over-hand motion, ignoring the outright protests of my shoulders. Descending from the Fhaicorain line—

My right hand loses purchase and my weight swings me into the face of the steep mountainside, my cheek slamming into the rock. A high-pitched ringing erupts in my ears and my vision darkens at the edges.

“Amelia!” Lyra shouts from the top.            “Next to you! The rope is next to you!” Aaliyah calls up. Iron scrapes my fingertips as my left hand slips, but I spot the rope and take hold, bracing my feet on the knot beneath me and clinging tight until the ringing fades in my head. I have to swing over or climb down. I’ve survived seven weeks in this damned quadrant, and this course isn’t going to beat me today.

Pushing off the edge, I swing out for the rail and make it, immediately starting the hand over hand to get me to the next one and then the next, until I finally let go, landing on the first shaking iron pillar. My brain is rattled as the thing shudders violently, and I leap to the next, barely gaining a foothold before jumping to the gravel path at the end of the ascent.

Aaliyah is right behind me, landing with a grin. “This is the best!”

“You clearly need to see the menders. You must have hit your head if you think this is fun.” My breaths are choppy gasps, but I can’t help but smile at her obvious joy.

“Just run straight across this one,” she says as we reach the twisting staircase posts jutting straight from the side of the cliff face.

Each three-foot-wide timber rotates from its base in one of the steepest sections of the course. I quickly calculate if you fall off one of the posts, you’d probably drop at least thirty or forty feet onto the rocky terrain below. I swallow down the terror trying to crawl up my throat and focus on the possibility my agility and lightness will give me an edge on this particular obstacle.

She continues. “Trust me. If you pause, it’ll roll you right off.”

I nod and bounce on my feet, dredging up whatever courage I have left. Then I ran. My feet are quick, making contact with each post only long enough to push off for the next, and within a few heartbeats, I’m on the other side.

“Yes!” I shout, throwing my fist up in celebration as I get out of the way for Aaliyah.

“Go, Amelia!” she shouts. “Here I come!” Her footwork is more agile than mine as she springs from spinning post to post.

A roar sounds from overhead, and I jerk my gaze up just in time to see the underbelly of a Green Daggertail as it flies directly over us, headed back to the Vale.

I’m never going to get used to that.

Aaliyah cries out and my head snaps toward hers just in time to see her wobble and slip on the fifth post. The air freezes in my lungs as she careens forward, her belly hitting the next-to-last spinning log as if in slow motion.

“Aaliyah!” I scream, lunging for her, my fingertips skimming the seventh post.

Our eyes meet, shock and terror filling her wide black eyes as the post rolls her away from me and she falls. Halfway down the cliff.

“Don’t underestimate the abilities of dragons, they will kill you indefinitely when they feel a twinge of annoyance.”

A Guide to the Rider’s Quadrant, by Axel Sgaeyl,

            A tear streams down my face, the sun burning my eyes as we stand in morning formation.

            “Calvin Atwater,”  Professor Rhinne reads, her voice solemn like always. First Squad, Claw Section, Fourth Wing. He sits two rows behind me in Battle Brief. He sat.There’s nothing special about this morning.

Our second trial has made the roll longer, but it’s just another list on just another day...except it’s not. The exceptional cruelty of this challenge has never hit me this hard before. It’s not like the first day anymore. I know more than half of the names as they’re called. My vision blurs. “Newland Jahvon,” he continues. “Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.” He had breakfast duty with me. We have to be in the twenties by now. How can this be all there is? We say their names once and then go on as if they never existed?            Lyra  shifts her weight at my side, and she abruptly sniffles, the motion jerking her shoulders once.            “Aaliyah Terrarrock.”            A single tear escapes and I bat it away, ripping open one of the scabs along my cheek. A trickle of blood follows as the next name is called, but I let that one stain me.

    *** 

I walk down the hallways with Anders and Lyra, no bickering today, hmm. Maybe because of the empty space left behind by Aaliyah. Assignments for sparring starts now, I pat the five vials of poison strapped to my side. I’m prepared for this.

Our squad sits against the wall of the sparring room, chatting when a random cadet from second wing walks up,

“Who here is Amelia Sgaeyl!” He requests roughly. Emilie stands up, smiling,

“Hi,” she twists her curls in her finger, “I’m Amelia, see? Because of my fighting skills?” she giggles, punching the air. The guy, not responding, grips the sides of her head and twists it unnaturally, with brute force. A crack echoes throughout the room as her body falls to the ground, Dead.

Emilie just died, died pretending to be me, died because of me. I stood there, shocked. As Lyra shrieks and Anders drops to his knees and covers his face.

“EMILIE!” Lyra cries,

“So this isn’t Amelia Sgaeyl?” The guy grins, “Let me repeat again, who is Amelia Sgaeyl?”

“I am,” I step forward, gripping a vial of cyanide. Fear spreads through my veins. The guy steps forward, reaching to grab me when suddenly, he crumples, grabbing his head, screaming, Varek.

“Save that stuff for the mat Selke,” Varek walks up, Damon flanking him.

“I don’t need your help,” I roll my eyes and glare at the pair.

“Sure looked like you did,” Varek replies, smirking, I turn around, Lyra sits on the ground, curling herself up in a ball, crying. Anders stares off into the distance, a stern expression glued onto his face. Tears well up in my eyes,  not sadness, rage. Rage is defined as an intense or violent type of anger, road rage, office rage, even airplane rage. Seems like the whole world is on the edge of snapping lately. But it’s not the only way we use that word, a raging fire, a raging storm, a rager of a party.  What do I feel right now? Pure, flaming , searing, rage. For the regret of not saving Aaliyah, for the regret of not preventing the death of Emilie, for me being forced into this stupid quadrant in the first place.        

“Amelia, Tomas, mat 8,” Professor Eldrick orders, glaring at me with a “murderous expression” from across the room. Sending a shiver down my spine. A rider runs up, whispering in his ear. “Change of plans, Tomas is out so, you’re excused from spar today Sgaeyl.”

“Luckyyy,” Lyra groans,

“I’ll replace Tomas,” a voice comes from behind me, shoot, I turn around and my gaze lands on the volunteer, Varek Gray.

                                                                   ***

I rub the bruise on my eye, a jolt of pain rushing through me. I groan, that match absolutely destroyed me. At least he didn’t kill me.

            Threshing is today, our squad is the third to go for presentation, as our squad, now consisting of just me, Lyra, Anders, and Kai, placed third overall on our scores for the Second Trial.

            “Cadets, prepare to enter Presentation. This year, there’s about ninety dragons willing to bond. So you better set a good reputation.” Professor Byrne yells, “A rider walks up to Bryne and whispers in her ear.

            She nods and dismisses him. “Single file.”

We all shuffle into a line. Lyra is at my back and Kai  just ahead of me, which means I’ll be treated to his commentary the whole time, no doubt. Awesome.

“Talk,” the senior wingleader says, folding her arms across her chest.            “Nice day for a Presentation,” Anders jokes.            “Not to me.” The senior wingleader narrows her gaze on Anders, then motions to the line of cadets before her. “Talk to your nearby squadmates while you’re on the path, as it will help the dragons get a sense of who you are and how well you play with others. There’s a correlation between bonded cadets and level of chatter.”

And now I want to switch places.

“Feel free to look at the dragons, especially if they’re showing off their tails, but I would abstain from eye contact if you value your life. If you come across a scorch mark, just make sure nothing is currently on fire before continuing along.” She pauses long enough for that bit of advice to sink in, then adds, “See you after your stroll.”

With a sweep of her hand, the senior wingleader steps to the side, revealing the dirt path that leads through the center of the valley, and up ahead, sitting so perfectly still that they might be gargoyles, are the ninety dragons who have decided to bond this year.

The line starts, and we give one another the suggested seven feet before following.

I’m hyper aware of every step as I walk down the path. The trail is hard beneath my boots, and there’s a definite lingering odor of sulfur.

We pass a trio of red dragons first. Their talons are almost half my size.

“I can’t even see their tails!” Kai shouts from in front of me. “How are we supposed to know what breed they are?”

I keep my eyes locked at the level of their massive, muscled shoulders as we walk by. “We’re not supposed to know what breed they are,” I responded.

“Frick that,” he says over his shoulder. “I need to figure out which one I’m going to approach during Threshing.”

“Pretty sure this little walk is so they can decide,” I retort.

“Hopefully one of them will decide you don’t get to make it to Threshing,” Lyra says, her voice quiet so it barely reaches me.

I look over my shoulder to see her wide gaze flickering between the path and the dragons. She’s nervous.

“So do you know if you’re having a niece or nephew?” I ask, continuing to walk forward past a handful of oranges.

“What?” she answers.

“I’ve heard some of the menders can make pretty good guesses once a woman is further along in her pregnancy.”

“Oh. No,” she says. “No clue. Though I’m kind of hoping she’ll have a girl. I guess I’ll find out once we finish the year and can write to our families.”

“That’s a terrible rule,” I say over my shoulder, lowering my gaze immediately when I accidentally make eye contact with one of the oranges. Breathe normally. Swallow the fear. Fear and weakness will get me killed, and since I’m already bleeding, the odds aren’t exactly in my favor here. I turn around to check on Anders. But his face makes me pause. His eyes are as wide as saucers, and his mouth hangs open. “Amelia.”It’s a whisper, and I wonder briefly if I heard him as much as I saw the word forming on his lips. “Am—”

A warm huff of steam blows against the back of my neck. My heart thunders, the beat increasing erratically as I take what might be my last breath and turn toward the line of dragons.

The golden eyes of not one but two greens meet mine, consuming my field of vision.

Oh. Shoot.

To approach a green dragon, lower your eyes in supplication and wait for their approval. That’s what I read, right?

I drop my gaze as one chuffs another breath at me. It’s hot and appallingly wet, but I’m not dead yet, so that’s a plus.

The one on the right chortles deep in its throat. Wait, is that the sound of approval I’m looking for? Shoot.

Mom. She’s going to be devastated when she reads the rolls.

I lift my head and suck in a sharp breath. They’re even closer. The one on the left nudges my hands with its giant nose, but I somehow stand my ground, rocking back on my heels to keep from falling over.

Greens are the most reasonable.

“I cut my hands climbing the obstacle course.” I lift my palms, like they can see through the black fabric binding my wounds.

The one on the right sets its nose right at my ribs and chuffs again.            What. The. Hell. It inhales, making that noise in its throat, and the other shoves its nose into my ribs, making me raise my arms just in case they feel like taking a little nibble.

“Amelia!” Lyra whisper-shouts.

“I’m all right!” I call back, then wince, hoping I didn’t just seal my fate by screaming in their ears.

Another chuff. Another chortle, like they’re talking to each other as they sniff me.

The one under my arm moves its nostrils to my back and sniffs again.

They both draw back, just far enough for me to look them in their golden eyes, but they keep their jaws shut, The one on the right blinks. The one on the left sticks its nose in again, sniffing loudly.

Step by step, they retreat until I see them take up their places in line in my peripherals, and I finally raise my head.

Taking several deep breaths, I try to lock my muscles to keep from trembling.

“Amelia.” Lyra is only a few feet away, a look of terror in her eyes. She

must have been right behind their heads.            “I’m fine.” I force a smile and nod.

“Let’s get out of here.” She swallows, her gaze darting toward the line of dragons.

“Good idea.”

She turns and walks back to her place, and once there’s fifteen feet between us, I follow.

“I think I just shat myself,” Anders says, and my laughter only pitches higher as we move through the field.

“Honestly, I thought they were going to eat you,” Kai remarks.

“Me too,” I admit.

“I wouldn’t have blamed them,” he continues.

“You’re insufferable,” Anders calls back. I focus on the path and keep walking.

A blast of heat singes my back and I halt.

Don’t be Lyra. Don’t be—

“Guess the dragons think he’s insufferable, too,” Anders mutters. Our squad is down to three first-years.

(I’m not done yet, this is how much I have done.)- Jessica