Over rough land they battled, avoiding the road, fighting through tall grass and thickets, with a western wind beating into them. Brode only called a halt when dark had already fallen.
That night at camp, Talia, Brode and Holt ate first, before Holt wearily went about preparing meat for Pyra and Ash. Pyra said little although she did ask politely for the beef to be cooked by Holt, which was nice of her.
“Hold on, I’d like a slice of that,” Brode said, referring to Pyra’s spiced beef. Before receiving an answer, he cut a wedge off and fed it to Ash. “Let’s see how he likes that now it’s spiced. Might be able to get a sense if he’s a fire type or not.”
Ash munched on it as happily as he did with any food. “How will he know?” Holt asked.
“He’ll know,” Brode said.
Ash swallowed the beef. “I don’t feel any different.”
“Nothing,” Holt said.
“We have some fish with us too,” Brode said. “Give him some of that.” “He’s surely too young, Master Brode,” Talia said. “Every book and
scroll on dragon lore I’ve read states that a dragon’s magic type manifests at one year of age.”
Brode smirked. “I’m sure those books also tell you that emotional communication via the bond takes months to develop. Holt here achieved it this morning while we walked.”
Talia looked to Holt aghast. “You did what, pot boy?” Holt was taken aback. “You were testing me?”
“I’ll be testing you in many ways from now on, Holt. Get used to it.” “That’s… that’s not possible,” Talia said. “It took me months before I
could even sense Pyra from afar.” She looked to her purple drake, as though it were Pyra’s fault.
“As I’ve said,” Brode went on, “there is much about Holt and Ash that is unusual. You felt their bond after all.”
“As strong as a Novice pairing after months of training, Forging and Cleansing,” Talia said. She didn’t sound happy about it. “It’s solid. Like rock.”
“Unusual just about covers it then,” Brode said. “I’ll return to my original request.” He snapped his fingers. “Bring out the fish, Holt.”
Holt did as instructed and threw half a smoked white fish to Ash.
“I still don’t feel anything.”
“Nothing again,” said Holt.
“So, that rules out fire and ice,” Brode said, checking the types off on his fingers.
“If he’s even at the point of manifesting his type,” Talia repeated. “Besides, being that white, he looks more like a storm dragon to me.”
The image of Silas Silverstrike unleashing his powerful lightning against Commander Denna sprang to Holt’s mind. That would make Ash powerful. They’d be able to defend themselves easily if that were the case.
“Storm drakes normally range from grays to blacks,” Brode said. Holt’s spirits deflated a little.
“Maybe he’s an unusual emerald drake,” Holt suggested. “That would lead to nature magic.”
Brode shrugged. “A mystic is most likely. Sadly, we lack the meat to tell.”
“Is there no other way?” Holt asked. “I think I’ve felt some of his magic already.”
He recounted his experience of moving the heavy kitchen workbench covering the larder trapdoor. Upon reaching the point of his story where he heard the music across Ash’s bond and felt new strength in his limbs, Pyra puffed a great deal of smoke and beat her wings, Talia spat out the water she’d been about to swallow, and Brode let out a long-drawn whistle.
“Is that… bad?” Holt asked.
“Bad?” Talia said, her voice high. “Holt, it can take a Novice nearly a full year to draw from the dragon’s core.” She opened and closed her mouth
several times in quick succession, clearly struggling to put her feelings into words.
“Still think I’m wrong to suspect his magic is close at hand?” Brode asked her.
Talia had a look of final defeat about her. She answered but looked to Holt as she did so. “No. I first drew from Pyra’s core six months after we bonded, and everyone said that was exceptional.”
Holt gulped. Talia had arrived at the Crag to join the Order over two years ago.
“But what does that mean?” Holt asked, feeling frustrated. The two riders were talking as if he wasn’t there. “Why did I hear music? I thought they had cores or something?”
“Calm down,” Brode said. “It’s quite simple. Dragons are beings of magic; their power gathers and matures within their very souls. That is what we call the core. Sometimes we hear a piece of that power in the core – the dragons refer to this as their song.”
“I only heard it for a few seconds,” Holt said, “but it sounded light now I come to think on it.” This worried him. Could Ash’s blindness also affect the strength of his magical core? Would he be a cripple in more ways than one?
Brode frowned, perhaps sensing Holt’s worry. “Don’t worry. Ash is so young, his song will not sound mature. The physical realm should not impact on the magical one, so his blindness shouldn’t affect the growth of his core.”
“Right,” Holt said, not entirely reassured.
“A dragon’s core grows by gathering in motes of magic related to their power type,” Talia said, slipping again into her eager student tone. “As a fire drake, Pyra pulls in motes of fire energy – tiny specks of magical power we cannot see with our human eyes or senses. The motes are drawn to her, as rivers are drawn to the sea.”
Pyra and Talia’s strange behavior the night before made more sense now.
“So that’s what you were doing last night by the fire,” Holt said. “Pyra was drawing in fire energy from our own campfire.”
“Not so confusing is it?” Brode said. “Yet the Order insists on veiling the process in as much mysticism as possible.”
Holt ignored him. He was discovering more about the riders than he’d ever dreamed.
“And what were you doing? Princess,” he added hastily. It felt too strange not to show her deference still.
“I was Cleansing and Forging,” Talia said. “It’s the rider’s work of the partnership. Humans aren’t beings of magic. We have no core to grow and so we can only draw magic from our dragon via the bond.”
“That sounds like we’re leeching from them,” Holt said. It didn’t sound heroic at all. “Why would the dragons let us do that?”
“If you let me speak,” Talia said tersely, “I’ll tell you.” Holt pressed his lips shut.
Talia continued. “If we only drew on their strength then there would be no benefit to the partnership. Thankfully for us, we can help through the bond. As dragons gather motes of magic into their core, they also pull in motes of other magic types not suitable for them. Last night Pyra would have drawn in air and nature energy as well; even frost motes from the cold of night, and mystic motes from our very thoughts. Pyra can’t take these into her core and so they linger in her soul as impurities. Out in the wild, dragons will passively remove these, like our own bodies dispose of waste, however, it’s a slow process for them. Very slow.”
“Meant to live for a long time, dragons,” Brode said. “Growing stronger and wiser over centuries.”
Holt was beginning to piece it together. “And so, we, the rider that is, can help remove these impurities for them?”
“That’s Cleansing,” Talia said. “Breathing techniques allow us to accelerate the removal of impurities, creating a cleaner, purer source of power for both dragon and rider to draw from. We can also help push the correct motes of energy into our dragon’s core, so it gains more power. That’s called Forging.”
“And what of the bond?” Holt asked.
“It too can grow stronger,” Brode said. He raised a hand to stop Holt’s inevitable question and then began to dig two small holes in the ground. He did it with one cupped hand, scooping dirt as easily as using a spade with his increased strength. Once satisfied with his work, Brode filled one hole with some water and pointed to it.
“Think of Ash’s core like a well of power. Humans don’t have innate magic. But through a bond with a dragon we can draw up some of theirs.”
Dexterously, Brode cut a gradual line between the holes with surgical precision. A trickle of water began running into the empty one. “This is closer to your position. With training, a Novice can draw up to one quarter of their dragon’s magic before the bond frays under the stress of it. When a bond frays it will recover but you won’t be able to draw on magic until it has healed. Strengthening your bond will allow you to draw on more magic before it frays.”
“Does that mean Ash could grow more powerful, but I wouldn’t, if our bond was weak?”
“Something like that,” Brode said. “As Ash’s core grows, you may find you can summon a little more magic as you are drawing from a larger pool. But unless you develop your bond, you’ll always be limited by that weaker connection.”
“What will happen to me as the bond strengthens?” Holt asked. He was keen to hear more. As scary as the future might be, there was a glimmer of something glorious awaiting him. If he could manage it.
It was Talia who cut in again. “Roughly speaking, the ranks of the Order are dictated by your bond strength.” She began counting off on her fingers. “Squires have no dragon, no bond and thus no magic. Novices have weak bonds and can draw up to about one quarter of the dragon’s core. Ascendants can draw up to half of the core before the bond frays. The bodies of Ascendants also change, increasing in strength. It’s the most commonly achieved rank and what I recently became. Yet some make it to the rank of Champion and can access three-quarters of the core. Master Brode was once a Champion.”
Brode grunted in acknowledgment.
“And a few exceptional riders make it to the rank of Dragon Lord,” Talia said in awe.
“Like Silas Silverstrike?” Holt asked. “Just like him,” Brode said darkly.
Talia hurried on, clearly enjoying herself. “Dragon Lords have bonds so strong they never fray. They could drain the core in full if they wanted. And they become so linked to their dragon that their bodies begin to take on aspects of them – it’s like the rider reaches a point of physical perfection in themselves. Their skin becomes tough like hide and takes on some property of the magic type of their dragon. There aren’t many of them though.”
“How come?” Holt asked.
“How come?” She seemed astonished he’d even ask such a foolish question. “Because riders die, Holt. They die defending the world. Bonds are hard to grow and take time. Experience is key to strengthening a bond. Learning together and overcoming struggles. Battle provides the greatest experience, of course. The bond is truly strengthened and tested then.”
Holt thought about how the bond with Ash had felt during the attack on the Crag.
“I think I felt my bond with Ash growing already. During the attack, when I ran back for him, the bond beat so hard I thought it might burst and it burned painfully. Then it seemed to swell and has felt larger since.”
“Gains come quickly at first,” Talia said.
“So why don’t the riders just fight each other all the time?” Holt asked. “That way they’d all grow more powerful.”
“Dueling each other wouldn’t work,” Brode said. “You have to feel your life is on the line for it to matter. True fear like that is impossible to fake.”
Talia’s expression stiffened then. “The skirmishes over the last year have helped to strengthen Pyra and I, but they say that… that…”
“That true incursions separate the Paragons from the dead,” Brode finished for her.
Paragons? Holt thought.
“There is a rank beyond Lord?” he asked.
“Not really,” Talia said. “You can’t get more powerful than drawing on one hundred percent of your dragon’s core, but the dragon’s core itself can continue to mature and gain in power. The Paragons are the most powerful of the Lords. They lead the Order at Falcaer Fortress.”
Brode scoffed. “If you think I’m old and bitter, Holt, just wait until you meet them.”
Holt smiled nervously. He didn’t like to imagine what these ancient and mighty dragon riders would think of him and Ash.
“Do you understand better?” Talia asked. Her tone implied he very much ought to.
Holt nodded. He felt he understood things well enough in theory. If this whole matter was a recipe, the meat of the thing was the core of magic within the dragon. Everything else was there to complement it. Cleansing sounded like cutting away the gristle to leave only lean meat, while Forging was like packing in more flavor through seasoning.
“Help Ash with his core; strengthen the bond through battle. Got it.”
“You’re already well underway,” Brode said. “Drawing on Ash’s core after what, just shy of two weeks?”
“I didn’t mean to do it.”
“And that only makes it all the more impressive,” said Brode. “I remember the first time I heard a snippet of the song. I’d been with Erdra for a year by then.”
It was the first time Holt had heard Brode speak openly of his dragon.
Brode continued, his tone no longer dour but one of excitement. “In time you’ll be able to channel that power into magical abilities based on your dragon’s type. Show him again, Talia.”
She obediently closed her eyes in concentration. When she opened them again, they flared as green as summer grass and a wisp of fire curled around her fingertips. The flames gathered into a ball in her palm. “It can be hard to hold on at times,” she explained in a low voice. “Especially if you’re trying to do other things at the same time, like staying alive in a battle.” The fire vanished and her eyes dimmed back to normal.
Holt rubbed at his tired eyes. Things were moving more quickly than he could keep up with. Just this morning he’d learned he would be able to communicate with Ash over their bond; now he was being told he was on the verge of having to master actual magic too. While it was exciting, thrilling even, it was a lot to take in. A daunting challenge for one used to scrubbing pots.
Sensing his doubts, Ash came to sit by his side to show support, placing his head on Holt’s lap. He scratched down the dragon’s neck. Their bond glowed warm, and Holt felt calmer for it.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” Holt said.
Brode barked a laugh. “You should have thought of that before you stole the egg. We’ll discover Ash’s type soon enough and then I’ll have you learn Cleansing and Forging.”
There was an air of finality in Brode’s words.
Talia stood up then, dusted herself off and flexed her fingers. “There is one aspect of being a rider that doesn’t come through magical cores and bonds,” she said, flashing Holt a dark look. “And that is skill with a blade. Shall we spar, Master Brode? It has been some time.”
“Aren’t you tired?” Brode asked.
“I can train for a bit,” she said stiffly.
Holt too jumped to his feet. “Can I learn?”
Talia groaned and Brode chose the diplomatic route.
“You’ve learned enough for today,” Brode said firmly. “Besides, we don’t have any training swords, and I’m not giving you live steel to injure yourself with.”
Holt folded his arms. “I’m used to handling knives.”
Brode just laughed, then stomped over to the root of the lone tree where they’d set up camp. He hacked at a thick, low-hanging branch with his rider’s sword. The blade sliced through the wood cleanly, and the branch fell. Brode picked it up effortlessly and tossed it to Holt. He caught the branch awkwardly; its weight surprised him, pulling him forward before he secured it with both hands.
“Get used to holding that with one arm as best you can,” Brode said. “You’ll need to start on the basics soon. Maybe tomorrow, if time allows. For now, just watch. See if you can learn something that way.”
So, Holt settled by the warmth of the fire and observed as Brode and Talia sparred. He knew nothing about swordplay, but it seemed to him that Talia’s movements were far more fluid and graceful, precise yet powerful. Her feet moved as swiftly as her hands. Of the two, she was clearly the natural. Brode’s experience gave him an edge, but it was minimal.
“It is hard to place them,” Ash said. “They move so fast and clash their metal talons so loudly.”
“Someday we’ll be in a real battle and it will be far worse,” Holt said. That made his stomach squirm again. Ash shared the sentiment across the bond. Holt wrapped an arm tightly around Ash, although this was getting harder almost every hour as the dragon grew.
Only now did he realize the full extent of all he’d have to master. They had so much to learn, and precious little time to do it in.
Perhaps it would be too much for a Cook? Perhaps Brode was right and he should have thought twice before he’d saved Ash’s egg. He might have been with his father right now if he had. Well, Brode was right. What was done was done. And Holt would just have to work as hard as he could to make the best of it.
Thankfully, hard work was nothing new to a Cook.
