Page 91 of Veiled Flames
With a bow and arrow, and with a slingshot, I’m easily the best in our group and can hold my own with both swords and daggers. Only hand-to-hand combat is proving a challenge. But I’ll get better. And based on what Roule has taught us, hand-to-hand combat isn’t crucial in battling the demons currently penetrating the veil.
Master Roule is the only one of the masters who offers me true encouragement. More than once he’s told me that size isn’t the most important attribute of a dragon rider.
Roule steps up to the dais, and the chatter in the room dissolves.
“There was a major rupture in the veil last eve,” he says. “Another rider was lost. And since you’ve been at camp, several more senior candidates have died in their attempts to bond.”
The classroom joins in a collective gasp.
“Given our recent losses, Master Treacher insists that you visit the dragon enclaves today.”
Cheers rise in the room and excitement builds inside me. Dragons don’t scare me. Not really. When I touched Saxon’s dragon, Surath, I felt her power—certainly the danger she poses to humans—but also her sense of sadness, almost as if she were calling out to me for help. I wish I’d asked Saxon more about his bond with Surath when he was talking to me.
“Hush,” Roule says, quieting the room.
“Because your first attempts to mount a dragon may be accelerated by several weeks, your sphincter training will commence tonight.”
Sphincter training?What does that mean? The room goes silent.
I wasn’t aware of anyone speaking before, but now it’s like no one is breathing.
A servant appears, holding a wooden box.
“Each of you will take one of these trainers,” Roule says. “Starting today, your trainer should be inserted at least once each evening and worn for as long as you can tolerate.”
“Inserted where?” someone asks from the back of the room.
“Up yer bum!” someone else mutters.
The wave of reaction is palpable in the classroom, but all specific words are drowned by my shock and my pounding heart. We are meant to insert something called a trainer into our bum holes? My own clenches in protest, and I stare down as my fingers turn white from gripping the sides of my chair.
The box arrives in my field of vision. I glance up, and the servant nods, urging me to take one of the objects. Each one is teardropshaped and made of polished stone. Pointed at one end, they widen into an orb of sorts, and then curve around, attaching to what I can only call a handle—a narrow bar with a disk at its end.
I select a shiny black one. Am I really meant to insert this object into my…mybumhole?
“To continue at camp, you must begin your sphincter training tonight.” Roule straightens. “In each of your rooms, you’ll find a dish of bear grease to assist your insertions.”
I stare at the object, the stone already warming in my palm.
“Any questions?” Roule asks.
Someone stands and states their name, but I can’t hear his words over my heart.
“No,” Roule replies, “you won’t need grease to mount a dragon’s pommel.”
Stepping to the large slate at the front of the room, Master Roule makes a simple chalk drawing of what I recognize as a dragon saddle. I saw a pommel, when I first saw Saxon get off Surath, but assumed one sat infrontof that pommel, notuponit. Perhaps the flaps at the back of our riding breeches serve more than one purpose. A tremor ripples through me.
“Dragon pommels have lubricants to ease their entry,” Roule says. “If a dragon iswillingto be mounted, the lubricant will naturally excrete.”
Sounds of shock ripple through the room. I still haven’t moved.
“After a successful mounting.” Roule scans the room, as if wondering whether even one of us will accomplish this. “You can further secure yourself and help guide the dragon by holdingthese handles at the base of her neck.” He points to two bumps he drew in front of the pommel, well behind the spikes he depicted rising up the dragon’s neck.
“Mounting a pommel the first time isn’t easy,” Roule continues. “And yes, it might be painful at first, especially if you don’t relax your sphincter muscles. But you shouldn’t require grease, and if you are well prepared using trainers, the pain will be lessened.”
“Can’t we ride dragons without taking its pommel up the bum?” someone asks.
Roule shakes his head. “Without the mounting, there will be no bond. Even if the dragon could take flight, you’d be thrown from her back.”
