Page 24 of Veiled Flames
“Surath!” Saxon shouts.
Without even bothering to move, the dragon sends flames towering up toward the heavens and then down to scorch the field.
All of the men stop.
The fire quickly extinguishes in the damp grasses, but leaves a blackened line across the field.
One of the men from the sword battle has not risen, and Saxon strides toward him.
“This man is dead,” Saxon says. “Which one of you slayed him?”
The men with sharp weapons all glance at each other, and then back to Saxon, as if trying to guess whether it would be more advantageous to claim the act or deny it. Ivyn casts his gaze down, even though I can see his axe is soaked in blood.
A muscular man steps forward, his sword held high. “It was me, Master.”
Saxon frowns. “You have not yet earned the right to call me master.”
The man goes down on one knee, like a knyght would do for his king.
“Was this killing intentional?” Saxon asks.
“Yes, mas…sir. I always swing my weapon with intent.”
“On your feet,” Saxon says, with clear irritation. “And leave here, now.”
“But—” The man staggers to his feet, clearly confused.
“Leave. Now.” Saxon’s booming voice fills the entire field. “Or Surath will have you for dinner.”
The bulky man runs away, lumbering as he drags his sword down the long field.
Saxon turns toward the rest of the men. “Dragon riders must have strength and combat skills, but loyalty, duty and common sense are far more important. Intentionally slaying a compeer isunacceptableand will result in immediate expulsion from camp.”
Behind Saxon, Prince Tynan shakes his head, as if disagreeing with this no-killing policy, but the dragon master doesn’t see him.
“Now,” Saxon says, “it’s time for your first test.” He looks around the group of larger men. “Each one of you must approach my dragon. Once there, you will lay your hand upon her scales.”
A slight grin flickers on his face. “Which of you dares to be first?”
As if carried by a strong wind, the entire group Saxon picked shifts back, moving until they’re very close to our line.
But then a man steps forward. It’s Ivyn, the overly muscular man who first joined the line. “I’ll do it.” He raises his weapon, a large, two-headed axe.
“Do you mean tobeheadmy dragon?” Saxon asks.
“No, I, ah.”
Saxon laughs. “Even if you tried, you could not harm her with that.” Saxon gestures toward his dragon. The sweep of his arm dramatically lifts his cloak, once again revealing the strong shape of him underneath.
“Approach Surath in the manner you see most fitting,” he tells the group. “If she accepts your approach, you’ll be safe. Is she does not…” He shrugs. “Not all who volunteer are destined to mount a dragon.”
Axe raised, the muscular young man charges toward Surath. “Submit to me, dragon! You do not scare me!”
Lazily, as if bored, Surath turns her head and opens her mouth. Instantly, the young man is consumed in a ball of flames. Screams rise, but none of them are his. Reduced to ash in moments, Ivyn didn’t have time to scream. Men and boys scatter like mice into the woods.
As I come out of shock, horror rises inside me, but it’s quickly replaced by fury.
I stride forward. “You said it was unacceptable to slay a rider candidate!”
