After marching for hours south, and when the gray sky finally turned to a starless black, Brode called a halt. Holt slumped to the ground. He’d never walked so long in all his life and his feet ached. Ash, on the other hand, seemed fine. In fact, he looked more energetic if anything, bounding around Holt in a circle.
“Hardly the time to rest,” Brode said. “We’ll need firewood. There are some trees off to our left. Go see what you can find.”
Groaning, Holt got back to his feet. He noted with interest that Talia wasn’t joining him. I’m still the servant then, he thought.
Ash followed along, although he wasn’t of much help.
“There are so many new smells here,” he said, excited. “What’s this? Food? Why won’t it stay still?” A brief sound of chewing preceded a disgusted spit. “That was not tasty! Too many legs.”
Holt chuckled. “I don’t imagine bugs taste good no matter how hungry you are.”
His own stomach wailed from hunger again. Shaking fresh life into his limbs, he picked up a final fallen branch and returned to camp. Brode helped him stack the firewood and then at last Talia stirred.
She sat crossed legged; her rider’s blade lay on the ground next to her, as she’d be unable to sit with it still strapped to her back. Slowly, she brought her hands together as though holding an invisible ball. Next her eyes flared bright and in the empty space between her palms a sphere of fire swirled into existence, blue at its center and trailing red on its outer edges. Talia parted her hands and the ball of flame remained floating above her
right palm. She focused on it, seeming to move it with her mind down to the tip of her finger before lowering it to the base of the stacked firewood. It caught. The wood roared into life quicker than a normal fire would.
“Wow,” Holt gasped.
Pyra made a throaty rumble laced with derision. “She says you are easily impressed,” Talia said.
He looked at his own hands rather stupidly, then to Ash, hoping for some new power to surface in himself.
Ash cocked his head and licked his lips. “I’m hungry.” Well, Holt thought, perhaps in time we’ll have magic too?
“Easy does it, Talia” Brode warned. “You’re exhausted as it is. Save drawing on Pyra’s core until we need it. You can Cleanse and Forge after dinner. Now, let’s eat.”
Talia yawned. “Good thing we have a Cook with us.”
Holt couldn’t be sure whether she was joking or not, and due to his own state of exhaustion, hunger and anxiety, his sense of propriety abandoned him.
“I already got the firewood. Am I to make your dinner too? What was calling me a dragon rider earlier all about if you didn’t mean it?”
Talia looked at him, astonished. Holt felt a strong pang of horror as a lifetime of ingrained manners and etiquette tried to force him to take it back, to apologize. But he held his own.
At length Talia responded, slowly. “I didn’t call you a rider. I said you weren’t a pot boy but honestly, I’m not sure what you are now. Perhaps my squire?”
Holt puffed up his chest. “I have a dragon.”
“A blind dragon,” Talia reminded him. “You’re only going to hold us back. It will be up to me—”
“Enough,” Brode said. He didn’t raise his voice but they both stopped and faced him. “Empty stomachs are the root of most arguments. Eat first, and you’ll find your moods improve. Stick to the bread and cheese tonight, that way no one has to cook other than some meat for the dragons, and you can each provide for your own.”
“Thank you, Brode,” Holt said, feeling like he’d come out the victor.
Brode scowled. “I won’t tolerate whining. You two start, while I cut some beef for the dragons.”
Feeling quite put in his place, Holt quietly searched the sacks of food and retrieved a loaf of bread and wedges of cheese and passed Talia her share.
The first bite Holt took sent a pang throughout his jaw as the muscles awoke. A few mouthfuls later and he was already feeling better but continued to chew in silence, as did Talia.
Brode cut a large steak for Ash and a veritable slab for Pyra. He speared the beef onto the ends of metal skewers they had brought from the kitchens and set them near the fire.
Once Holt had had his fill, he raised Ash’s steak over the campfire, turning it every fifteen seconds to sear each side well without over doing the middle; a trick he’d picked up from his father without even realizing. A beefy smell filled the air. Ash perked up. He crept closer to the fire, and near enough fell over Holt in an effort to get closer to the sizzling meat. Once the steak was ready, Holt shimmied the skewer until it fell onto the grass. Ash pounced on it. A warm satisfied glow rippled over their bond.
Ash made no attempt to eat quietly – gnashing, chewing, and swallowing loudly. Out of the darkness Pyra snorted again but Holt ignored her.
By now Talia had finished eating and crept closer to the campfire herself, clearly working up to the task at hand. She lifted the much larger cut of meat over the fire and began turning it as Holt had, although her timing was erratic, and she wasn’t holding it evenly over the flames.
“Erm, Princess,” Holt began, “you might want to try—”
“I can manage,” Talia said. Pyra growled in agreement. Her yellow eyes, like fireflies in the night, trained onto Holt with a new intensity. And then he heard a new voice in his mind. It was female, deep and haughty.
“Talia is of noble birth and lineage. She does not require the aid of a kitchen rat.”
Holt’s heart skipped a beat and found he could not hold Pyra’s gaze. He bowed his head and looked away. Ash actually stopped eating.
“Boy, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he croaked and gave Ash a scratch down his neck. “Go back to your steak.”
“Did she speak to you?” Brode asked. His face had become a series of dancing shadows.
“She did,” Holt said, trying to pretend like it was nothing.
Brode cut another chunk of cheese and thumbed it into his mouth. “She’s got a nasty tongue at times,” he said thickly. “Don’t let her get to you.”
Pyra turned on Brode and snorted more smoke. Brode shrugged and continued with his meal.
Despite the rudeness from Pyra, Holt couldn’t help but smirk. She may claim to not think much of him, but dragons rarely if ever spoke to humans save for riders. It was a recognition of sorts.
“It’s done,” Talia suddenly announced, taking the beef to Pyra.
From the burnt smell of it, Holt had to agree it was ‘done’. Far too well- done.
Pyra seemed to agree. A few bites in and the dragon spat the food out and groaned weakly.
“What do you mean?” Talia asked. “I gave it plenty of heat.”
Holt risked a glance in the direction of the fallen beef. Talia had managed to burn the outside while still leaving the meat raw at the center. An impressive feat in its own way.
Pyra rumbled again, looking reproachfully at her rider.
“What? No, I didn’t spice it,” Talia said. “I’m sorry, Pyra, but I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll put it back on.”
“Pampered beast,” Brode scoffed. “Back in my day dragons still hunted for their meals. None of this cooking to preference with personal orders.”
Ash wandered over to the discarded beef, sniffing at it.
“The grumpy one does not want it?”
Before Holt could answer, Pyra sniffed snootily and turned away from the camp.
“Pyra,” Talia wailed but Brode cut her off with a wave of his hand.
“Let her sulk. She’ll come around when she’s hungry enough. Look, the hatchling doesn’t mind it.” Even as Brode spoke, Ash tore a bloody chunk off the ill-cooked slab and chewed happily. “See, all dragons can eat any meat in any form if needed. Ours have become fussy.”
Talia sat down in a huff, then buried her face into her hands.
Holt eyed Ash in some annoyance. So, you’ll just eat any old rubbish, will you? Why do I bother? He would have been better off making Pyra’s food after all.
A notion came to him then, and he pulled out his father’s recipe book, flicking through to the section on fire dragons. He found the recipe he had
in mind soon enough, then considered whether to follow through.
Pyra had been nothing but mean and stuck up this whole time; she’d even called him a rat. But they were stuck together, and they’d be better off getting along.
Holt recalled about a year ago when a new kitchenhand came into his father’s service. The older hands had hated her at first because she didn’t know how things were done and she caused more trouble than assistance in those first weeks. But then one night she stayed and worked through until dawn, leaving the others so little to do the next day it was like a holiday for them. She’d done far more than her fair share to appease the others. After that, they’d all got along like old friends.
This situation wasn’t quite the same, but Holt figured he ought to try. “Master Brode,” he said boldly, “if you’ll cut some more beef, I’d like
to try something.”
Brode raised his eyebrows but did not protest. As he played the butcher, Holt opened the bag of utensils and felt around until he found a skillet. Next, he opened each bag of spices and herbs he’d taken from the larder, smelling the contents until he found the two he needed. That done, he moved everything to the fireside.
“How’s this?” Brode asked. He presented a roughly hewn fillet which was uneven and much too thick at one end. But Holt knew how to fix it.
He drew out the dagger he had received earlier that day. It was harder to handle than a cook’s knife, but he carefully sliced into the thickest end to butterfly the cut. Then he picked up the pan. It was black iron and heavy on his wrist, but he held it with a new confidence. The beef was likely to stick without oil, and he would have to hold the pan long over the fire to heat properly – an open fire being far colder than hot coals – but he’d have to make do.
Eventually, the meat was sizzling, filling the air with its beefy scent as the fat rendered down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pyra shift in the darkness, edging back closer to the fire, but he paid her no mind. He was focused now on his task.
“The recipe is for a quick beef dish while on the move,” Holt told them. “The spices are simple. Ground kracker pepper from the Searing Sands and a small pinch of a tangy spice from the Jade Jungle.”
He added these ingredients now, judging how much to add given the size of the cut he was dealing with. At once a peppery blast filled his
nostrils. Even Ash looked up from his devouring of the charred meat.
Holt turned Pyra’s dinner over a few more times, checking the coloring was even before deciding it was ready. He whipped the skillet away from the fire, approached Pyra until he was about ten paces away, and placed the new dish onto the grass for her.
Pyra rushed at the beef with such speed Holt had to leap back in alarm. She devoured her meal in two great bites and started emanating a hearty rumble in her throat.
“Thank you,” she said. It was far from an apology, but nonetheless, Holt was pleased.
Talia perked up too and smiled. “Is that better, girl?” She rubbed Pyra’s chest. Holt wondered whether Pyra feeling better made Talia feel better too. Given what he had felt over his bond, he wouldn’t be surprised, and her bond with Pyra was surely far stronger than his with Ash.
The party enjoyed a short silence after this, which felt less tense than before but there were still many unanswered questions and uncertainties.
It was Talia who broke the silence, bringing her hands together in a decisive clap. “Master Brode,” she said impatiently, as though the old man were ignoring her, “what is our plan?”
“If I had a firm idea, I’d tell you. I’m still considering.”
Holt’s thoughts returned to his father, and where he might be. “The civilians were being escorted away but we’ve seen no sign of them. Where will they have gone?”
“They’ll have been taken to Fort Kennet,” Brode said. “It’s some ways to the south. There they will stay as long as supplies allow. Assuming it’s still standing and the whole countryside is not yet overrun.”
“Are we safe in the open like this?” Holt asked.
“Yes,” Talia said with all the enthusiasm of a student who knows the answer. “The scourge is drawn towards areas with the highest population. It’s like they want to add to their numbers in the most efficient way possible. A small group like ours won’t attract them.”
“So, we’re safe?”
“We’ll never be truly safe,” Brode said. “Out here, we’re exposed, and even behind thick walls, well, you saw what can happen.”
Holt bit his lip and lowered his head.
“Try not to dwell on your father,” Brode said. “I didn’t notice the bodies of Mirk or Biter in the ruins of the town. Might be they got away to take the
people to the fort. If so, they will have had some protection on the road. We’ll know soon enough when we reach the fort.”
“You shouldn’t think about your father, at all,” Talia said.
“Is that so, Princess?” Brode said, giving her a knowing look. Holt found it a strange thing for her to say as well; he’d seen her weeping over news of her brother’s death.
“If he is to join the Order, yes,” Talia said. “We all must forget our pasts.”
Brode grunted. “Well, he hasn’t joined yet.”
Holt jumped at once to his feet. “I shall take the oath now!”
But Brode shook his head. “Even if I wanted to witness your oath, I could not. It requires a rider at the rank of Champion to induct Novices. Neither Talia nor I fit that requirement.”
“You were a Champion once, Master Brode,” Talia said. “Without my dragon, I am nothing.”
“But I want to be a rider.” Holt didn’t understand why the pair of them made it seem so sour. “I know there’s danger. I’ve seen it now. As a Cook I felt useless; worse than useless. I want to help fight the scourge and so does Ash.”
Ash stood, stretched his neck high and growled.
“Joining the Order is not done rashly,” Brode said. “I warned you before about the consequences of such a life. These would have been explained fully to you given the proper process. You’ll have duties and responsibilities far greater than you can comprehend, and you’ll be swapping one form of servitude for another. But,” he said biting on the word, “I see no other path for you.”
All well and good so far as Holt was concerned. What else was he supposed to do with Ash? Go roaming the world together, a blind dragon and an untrained rider hunting in the woods forever?
“Is this why you took Ash’s egg?” Talia asked. “So Commander Denna would be forced to induct you?”
Holt was taken aback. “No…”
“Then what were you thinking?” Before Holt could answer, she plowed on. “Something like this would be covered by breach of rank in Sidastra. You’d be stripped of your name, your role. Banished. Didn’t you think of that?”
Holt bit his lip. What had been going through his mind? It was hard to recall.
“It just… felt like the right thing at the time…” Talia folded her arms. “I don’t believe you.”
“You’re giving the boy too much credit, Talia,” Brode said. “Or too little.”
Ash cocked his head and Holt agreed with the sentiment. He couldn’t discern Brode’s meaning either.
“I didn’t take Ash’s egg just to join the Order, if that’s what you mean.
That never even crossed my mind. I just wanted to… to save it.”
Brode cut another slice of cheese. “Thinking with your heart over mind can be a dangerous thing.”
Ash padded over and Holt ran a hand down the dragon’s back. The bond thumped with pleasure. Holt’s stomach whirred with the same tangled guilt and stress it had for the past weeks. Brode and Talia made it seem like he had done something wrong, and maybe they were right. He wouldn’t be feeling like this if nothing were amiss. The one question that had plagued him these past weeks had to be asked. He had to know.
“If we had been caught, what would have happened to Ash?”
Brode and Talia looked at each other. Brode chewed, swallowed, then answered.
“At Falcaer, he’d have been killed for sure. At the Crag… rules are looser. Aren’t they Talia?”
The Princess curled up into a tighter ball. “They are, Master Brode. I don’t think Commander Denna would have had him killed, although it would have been Lady Ysera’s decision. As for Holt, the commander wouldn’t want a rogue rider on her record so he would have been sworn in, I think. But your father—”
“What about him?”
“He may have been found in breach of rank in your stead,” Talia said. “Why?” Holt said. “I did it. Maybe I didn’t think it through, but I’d
have accepted any punishment. It’s not my father’s fault.” “Someone would have to be—”
“Why him though?”
“Because we can’t have any commoner with light fingers thinking they can get away with stealing dragon eggs,” Talia said. “What happens then? Chaos, Holt, not order.”
“That’s not fair—”
“Life’s not fair,” Brode barked. “Haven’t I mentioned that already?”
Holt slumped back onto the grass. Ash pressed in closer to him, sending soothing waves across the bond.
“I just did what I thought was right.”
“Aye,” Brode said. “You did at that. What’s done is done. Question is, what do you do now? I have no authority over you. You’re as free as you’ll ever be.”
“I have to find my father, whether he is alive or… dead. So, if you’re heading for Fort Kennet, then I should come with you.”
“Very well,” Brode said. “And I promise that, while you are in my company, I shall train you as best I can. I feel this is partly my fault.”
Talia narrowed her eyes but said nothing.
“Thank you,” Holt said. “When the time comes to take the oath, I hope I am ready.”
Talia cleared her throat. “If you’re both heading to the Fort, perhaps I should fly onto the capital after all.”
“I’ll hear no more on the matter, Talia,” Brode said. “Silas is still out there. He is too dangerous and you’re too valuable. Chaos infects every limb of Feorlen at present.” He raised a hand to silence Talia before she interrupted. “And yet, we will have to make for the capital in the end. The summons was made. So, we will go, in our own time. From there we can alert Falcaer and other Order Halls to the threat and call for aid. Although whether we risk journeying off road, or move between the garrisons for speed, will be a decision I make after we reach Fort Kennet and learn more.”
Holt nodded, reassured by Brode’s calm demeanor. However, images of those terrible stingers and shambling ghouls with diseased skin and dead eyes sent fresh shivers up his spine.
“Do you think this attack is like the old tales?” Holt asked. “A genuine threat to the world? Or could it be a smaller uprising that will be over soon?”
A dark look passed over Brode’s face. “I cannot say. It is too early to tell. Yet Silas’ involvement indicates something far more sinister. His betrayal worries me more than a thousand ghouls.”
“You fought alongside him during the last incursion, didn’t you?” Talia asked.
“I did, but I won’t speak of it now. It’s been a terrible day already, and we won’t resolve all our problems in one night. Now, Talia,” he said with a note of finality, “you should Cleanse and Forge before resting.”
Talia inclined her head and immediately assumed a cross-legged position. She rested her hands on her knees, closed her eyes, and began to breathe very slowly. Pyra moved closer to their campfire, crouched low, and spread her wings wide, bending them as if to envelop the flames.
Unsure what was going on, Holt looked to Talia again, but her eyes remained firmly shut. Her breath suddenly croaked, rattled and then a trail of flames leapt from her shoulders, disappearing as quickly as they’d come.
“What’s she doing?” Holt asked of Brode. “Should I be doing that?”
“In time, yes. Sleep for now, Holt. Tomorrow we’ll continue to Fort Kennet and pray Silas and his swarm does not find us along the way.”
