Page 23 of Veiled Flames
It’s Prince Tynan of Khotor.
He’s come to take me back to marry his hideous grandfather, and I have nowhere to hide.
Nine
Rosomon
Ifight to disguise my terror, but Prince Tynan barely glances toward the line of those of us deemed too small. Taking his horse’s reins, he strides toward the cloaked man, who’s now standing in front of the group he selected.
“Is this the best Achotia has to offer?” Tynan asks with obvious disdain in his voice.
A boy in simple clothing runs from the wagons. When he arrives, Tynan hands him the reins for his horse without even acknowledging the boy, who leads the prince’s steed to be fed and watered, along with the other horses.
Saxon doesn’t acknowledge Prince Tynan’s question. Instead, he takes a firm stance between the group of the larger men and the dragon, folding his arms across his broad chest. Tynan stands to his side, a pace behind him.
“I am Master Saxon,” he says in his deep booming voice. “I am one of three dragon masters at camp.”
The men all straighten their postures.
“Should your offer to volunteer for camp be accepted, very few of you will survive training, and even fewer will be accepted upon a dragon’s pommel. But those lucky few will serve to protect the Seven Kingdoms of Light in the most heroic manner—guarding the veil from the Darkness.”
No one was talking before, and yet a noticeable hush falls over the group, as if everyone stopped breathing, as if the winds stopped blowing and all the birds stopped chirping just to hear Saxon speak.
My heart stopped beating but starts back up with a fury.
I’ve met many men in my life, men of noble birth and those who lead armies, but I’ve never encountered a man who exudes pure power like Saxon. And I’ve never felt so intrigued by another person alive.
I wish I’d been chosen for the group standing near to him. I wish I might yet have a chance to be chosen. At this moment, I’d follow him anywhere.
The largest of the potential recruits, a thick boy with shortly cropped orange hair and an angry demeanor, steps forward and raises a double-headed axe.
“I am Ivyn, and I’m prepared to battle any of these men to earn my place at training camp.” He swings his axe, then takes a wide stance, facing Saxon.
Another stocky young man steps forward, his cube shaped head accentuated by his flatly cut cobalt blue hair. “I am Amis and need no weapon. I canstrangleany one of these men with my bare hands.”
Behind Saxon, Tynan chuckles with an abundance of arrogance, confirming my assessment of him from last night.
“Combat skills are important for dragon riders,” Saxon says calmly. “But such things can be taught at camp. In selecting volunteers, I seek other characteristics, traits far less obvious from the surface.”
I lift my chin. If what he’s saying were true, then why did he cast aside the smallest of us?
Tynan steps forward. “Master, why not let them demonstrate their skills nonetheless?”
Tynan’s words are shocking on two levels. First, that he dared to interrupt Saxon, and second that a Prince called another man ‘Master.’ The contrasting anomalies fight in my mind, but Saxon grins and drops his arms from where they’ve been crossed over his chest.
He and Tynan back toward the dragon, and based on the glance shared between them, I suspect that their exchange was a planned act.
“Go on then,” Saxon says to the group. “Show me what you can do.”
Many of the men and boys draw their weapons, others tackle each other, and the field erupts into a disorganized battle. Not that I’ve seen a real battle, but I’ve witnessed soldiers as they trained.
Weapons clank and men grunt as they battle to demonstrate their skills for Saxon. Someone has a flail, and its hammer swings out on its chain as he spins and mows down three of theother men, who land with a thud on the field. At least the heavy weapon didn’t strike anyone in the head.
For the moment, I’m glad I wasn’t chosen.
“Enough!” Saxon shouts.
Most of the men stop fighting. Many are injured, limping or visibly bleeding. But two pairs of men don’t stop. They continue fighting with their heavy weapons. One is the man who called himself Ivyn.
