Page 74 of Veiled Flames
Derisive chuckles arise from the back of the room.
“This is a very good question.” Roule nods. “Without a rider, a dragon cannot fly and most are blind and deaf. Without riders, dragons only see shapes and perhaps differentiations in light levels. We can’t be certain. But lacking a proper rider bond, dragons cannot rise off the ground.”
“Egon of Verax.” I cringe at his voice. “How soon do I get to bond with my dragon?”
Saxon steps forward. “I admire your eagerness, Egon. But you have much to learn and many skills to develop before making an attempt to mount.”
“But I’m the strongest recruit,” Egon says. “The strongest by far. I’ve bested my compeers in every trial. I’m ready.”
No one contradicts Egon’s statement, and anger boils inside me. Several times I’ve done better than Egon. But not even Treacher nor Saxon contradicts the bully’s false claim.
Roule leans onto the podium. “No candidate will attempt a mounting, until properly prepared. Doing so would lead to grave injury?—”
“Unless you’re Rosshall.” Tynan’s voice rises from the back of the room. “That runt regularly takes it up the bum.”
Saxon shifts on the stage, and my cheeks burn with anger as chuckles wash through the crowd. I can’t fathom why Tynan chose this moment to taunt me. To threaten both me and Saxon with the knowledge he believes that he has. Especially since being drilled has nothing to do with riding dragons.
At least Tynan only embarrassed me—thank Othrix—and didn’t mention Saxon. I might hate Saxon—hate what he did to me and how he’s now treating me—but he doesn’t deserve to lose his position as dragon master.
Roule frowns. “That’s enough, Tynan.”
Treacher steps forward. “Your preparations for dragon mounting will be accelerated.” His gruff expression matches his tone.
Roule looks surprised and Saxon shakes his head, as if he disagrees.
“Demon attacks on the Light have increased,” Treacher continues sternly. “Yesterday, we lost two riders, and three senior candidates.”
The room falls silent.
“Given our losses and the frequency of attacks,” he continues, “we must urgently train new riders.Strongriders. Even if the acceleration of your training means more of you will die.”He scans the room with a clear challenge in his eyes. “This afternoon, you will run the gauntlet.”
Hoots rise from the senior candidates at the back of the classroom, and Saxon steps forward, shaking his head.
“Too soon,” he whispers to Treacher, so softly I have to read his lips. His eyes flick toward me, but then quickly away.
“We must thin this herd,” Treacher says, loudly enough that the whole room can hear. “Why waste our time on weak candidates?”
“That’s enough for today.” Roule scowls, clearly annoyed that the other two interrupted his lesson, and are arguing in front of us.
I didn’t think Treacher could be more intimidating. I was wrong. He’s clearly excited at the prospect of more of us dying.
Twenty-Eight
Rosomon
Our group is ushered down a long corridor, which grows narrower as we progress. Our voices echo off the walls and ceiling, amplifying our fear and excitement. All the rider candidates are here, not just the new recruits. Will the senior candidates run this gauntlet too?
I didn’t see Samyull when we left the classroom and look around the group for my friend, but nearly all of the candidates are taller than me, so it’s difficult to spot anyone amongst them.
I hope that Samyull didn’t leave without saying goodbye. But right now, I must concentrate on the challenge ahead. The mere word gauntlet is daunting, but I’m ready to face this—whatever it is.
Saxon and Treacher stand at the end of the corridor, blocking a large door. From their postures and expressions, it’s clear that they’re arguing. Saxon pulls up his hood, and then strides toward us, shaking his head.
As Saxon plows through, our group parts like grass in the path of a galloping horse. Nerves build in my belly when I realize he’s headed directly toward me.
I step to the side to avoid him, but he adjusts his trajectory, and his hand brushes mine.
As if the earth shifted beneath my feet, I stop in my tracks. And when he looks down into my eyes the impact hits lower, heating all the places he’s both hurt and brought so much pleasure to.
