Fledgling (The Dragonrider Chronicles) (5 page)

“Try not to kill me before we even get
started,” I grumbled, turning away to continue on toward the armories. I wasn’t
feeling confident about this at all, anymore. I was beginning to think I’d made
a huge mistake by agreeing to this.

The dragon followed me, looming close
and making those chattering, bird-like noises as we made our way toward the
armory buildings. I was hoping I wouldn’t see my father, but I caught a glimpse
of him as I searched the workshops for
Sile
. All the
craftsmen were very busy taking orders or measuring riders for saddles and
armor. My father was casting molds for saddles, which I’d never actually seen
him do before. Thankfully, he didn’t look up when I walked past.

Sile
was talking to a blacksmith when I
finally found him. They were haggling over the cost of
vambraces
,
and I stood by quietly until my dragon finally made an impatient barking noise.
That got their attention, and it made me smile a little.

“Hurry up. Stand there,” the
blacksmith grumbled in a raspy voice. I knew his type well, thanks to Mr.
Crookin. Blacksmiths liked to get down to work, no nonsense, and get their
money as quickly as possible so they could move on to their next order.

Sile
gave me a nod of encouragement,
gesturing for me to come close enough for the blacksmith to start working.
“Come on, we’ve got a lot to get done today.”

The blacksmith measured me from head
to foot, handling me roughly like someone feathering a chicken, and
occasionally squeezing an old bruise hidden by my clothes that made me wince.
Occasionally, he stopped and wrote down numbers, noting the length of my arms
and legs, the circumference of my chest, and the span of my shoulders. It
didn’t take him long to get all my measurements taken, and then he started
handing me pieces of roughly-made test armor to determine how they felt for
size.

It took a few tries of different sizes
of helmets to find one that didn’t fit me like I was just wearing an empty
bucket over my head. It had a big number three painted on the front of it, and
the blacksmith made a gruff noise of disapproval. “Been a long time since I
made a three. You sure you’re big enough for this? War is a man’s game.”

“No,” I answered truthfully.

Sile
sent me a scolding glare. “He’ll be
fine. Size and strength are not all that make a good soldier.”

           
Once
I’d been fitted for armor, and the smith had been paid, we moved on to a
workstation in the second building—the one where the
tackmasters
were making saddles.
Sile
, in all his wisdom, had
decided not to hire my father to make mine. Judging by the last look my father
had given
me,
I wouldn’t have been surprised if Ulric
intentionally compromised my saddle on the off chance that it might kill me.

           
My
dragon followed us to the open-sided workspace, plopping down onto his haunches
outside and beginning to preen his scales. The tackmaster was a man much older
than my father, with snowy white hair, and knobby withered hands that were
covered in protruding veins. He took one look at me, at my dragon, and his
bushy brows shot up for a moment. But he didn’t say anything.

           
“Are
you ready for us yet?”
Sile
talked to the man like
he’d already struck a bargain with him.

           
The
old tackmaster nodded. “Have the dragon lie down.”

           
All
eyes were suddenly on me, expecting me to get my dragon to perform like a
trained show pony. I swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure just how much of what I said
the dragon actually understood, or how smart he was. It was time to find out.

           
As
I walked up to his head, my dragon was watching me with large yellow eyes
bright with what I hoped was intelligence. I raised a hand to him, showing him
my palm, and then gesturing in a downward motion. “Lie down, will you?” I asked
him nicely. It was strange to give something that huge, and that potentially
deadly, orders.

           
The
dragon watched my gesture, and made a few soft clicking noises as he canted his
head to one side. His ears perked and swiveled.

           
“Down,”
I repeated. “Lie down.”

           
He
was already sitting back on his haunches, and little by little, he started to
lower himself until he was lying flat on his scaly belly. He watched me
carefully the whole time, looking for indication that he was doing the right
thing.

“Yes, that’s right.” I couldn’t keep
myself from grinning. Even if he didn’t understand me word for word, my dragon
was smart. He could figure out what I wanted. “Good.”

Sile
was impressed again. He watched us
with his arms folded, and I saw a glimmer of envy in his eyes when I turned
back to face him. “You think of a name for him yet?”

I glanced back at my dragon,
who
was still watching me intently as he lay still. Naming
him hadn’t even crossed my mind yet. “No. How do other riders usually choose
names?”

“Well, these days young dragons are
named after their sires, or mothers, whichever was the more impressive
specimen.”
Sile
grabbed the back of my shirt while he
talked, pulling me out of the blacksmith’s way as he began dragging one of the
large molds toward my dragon.

The old blacksmith worked slowly, but
he was strong like my father, and he didn’t act like he wanted us to help him.
He, like all
tackmasters
, had his own way of doing
things. For these men, I knew making saddles was a sacred ritual. He wouldn’t
want us to interfere.

Standing back with
Sile
,
we watched the old smith work at pressing the wax-filled mold against the space
between my dragon’s neck and his wing arms, where the saddle would sit. The
mold would become the base that the rest of the saddle would be built to fit
onto, so that it was snug against the dragon’s body and didn’t slide around. It
also had to fit over the little horns growing down his spine.

“You know, the other instructors had
started calling him a maverick. For a wild-born dragon who refused all but a
halfbreed rider, that name might suit him,”
Sile
muttered.

“Maverick?” I wasn’t sure what that
meant.

Sile
was smirking to himself while he
studied my dragon with his dark eyes. “A rebel. That’s what it means. That’s
what he is. A stubborn mongrel, albeit a smart one.”

I liked the way that named sounded. It
rang well, and when I looked at the blue-scaled dragon lying on his belly,
yawning widely to show us his white teeth and black gums, it just seemed to fit
him. I took up a stick and squatted down to scribble the letters into the dirt
at my feet.

M-A-V-R-I-K.

“You didn’t spell it right.”
Sile
was grinning at me, and shaking his head.

I looked up at him, then back down at
the name. Spelling had never been my strong suit. My mother had taught me to
read pretty well, but I’d never had much need for writing.

“It’s fine, boy.”
Sile
squatted down next to me to get a closer look at the name I’d scribbled din the
dirt. “Mavrik. I like it spelled that way. What do you think, dragonrider? Is
that the name for him?”

I couldn’t keep from smiling back at
the older knight who had quickly become my closest friend. Well, besides
Katty
, anyway. A little glowing bit of warmth started to
rise up in my chest, and it made me want to smile even wider. When I looked at
my dragon, at Mavrik, I started to feel that sensation bloom out all over my
body. It was like a rush of energy and hope.

“Yeah, I think so.”

five

It’d
been a long day. After getting all my armor and my saddle ordered, my admission
paperwork signed and submitted, and making sure Mavrik was settled in at the
Roost, all I wanted to do was sleep. I didn’t even care where anymore.

Sile
left me standing outside the student
dormitory with a stack of books and uniforms in my arms. “Your room is on the
second floor,” he told me as he turned away. “Students have to share a room
with one other person their first year. He’ll be your partner in training for
the duration. It supposedly promotes
comradery
,
though in your case, I’d advise you to keep a low profile. Room four.”

My spirits fell. I was going to have a
roommate. A partner.
Sile
had explained a lot about
how the first year of training was going to work. There were nine students
starting, including me. All were boys. Girls weren’t allowed to become
dragonriders. So, odds were, I was going to end up in a room with someone that
hated my guts. There was only one boy from my new class that had even been
remotely nice to me—while he was stealing food off my plate. I knew
chances were slim that he would end up being my roommate, but I would have
happily roomed with a food thief than someone else who might want to beat me
within an inch of my life.

I drug my feet up the stairs to the
second floor of the student dormitory. The hallways were narrow, with rows of
doors on either side. I stopped outside door number four, staring up at the
engraved lettering hanging on a placard in the very middle of it. It read:

4

Sn
. Lt. Derrick

           
The
other doors had signs on them, too, and from what I could tell each one had the
name of a Lieutenant on it. That must have been what
Sile
meant by being my “sponsor.” Even if I wasn’t sure what a sponsor was, I was
glad that I’d at least be in some proximity to the knight who’d vouched for me.

           
I
had just reached out to touch the doorknob, when I heard a familiar voice snarl
behind me, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

           
I
recognized the older boy right away. It was the same one who’d wiped his boots
on my face. He was glaring at me like he’d found a diseased rodent in his food,
and immediately I froze up. He was bigger than me, and I knew I wouldn’t stand
much of a chance if he came after me again. I could run, but I wouldn’t get
far.

           
“There’s
no way!” He yelled like it was my fault. Apparently
Sile
was his sponsor, too. “I’ll cut my own ears off before I share a room with
you!” He was practically screaming, and I started to worry about what he was
going to do to me.

He started to move in closer, backing
me up against the door while he snapped angry words just inches from my nose. I
couldn’t escape, and I couldn’t think of anything to say to defend myself. The
more furious he got, the louder he became, and it made me wince as I tried to
hide behind the stack of supplies in my arms.

           
Some
of the other new students were starting poke their heads out of their rooms
down the hall, staring at us. I could sense their anticipation as they started
to flock toward us. They were hoping for a fight. It would be a free-for-all,
and I would definitely be on the losing end of it. Every single one of them was
at least half a foot taller than I was, and much more muscular. I was a sheep
surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves, ready to make a meal of me.

           
“Hey,”
another, strangely familiar voice spoke up from within the crowd. I watched the
other students step aside, making way for the boy who’d stolen bites of my
lunch earlier. He was coming straight for us with a canvas bag slung over his
shoulder.

 
“I’ll switch with you,” he said “I’ll room with the
halfbreed.”

           
My
mouth fell open.

           
“Well
if it isn’t the local celebrity, Felix Farrow. Come to see how the other half
lives?” The boy was still snarling in my direction with his eyes narrowed,
bowing up defensively at the one who’d interrupted his fit of rage. “What does
the son of a duke want with a halfbreed, anyway?”

           
“The
way I see it, that’s not really any of your business, is it?” Felix shot him a
threatening look. “You want to switch or not? This offer’s going to last for
about thirty more seconds.”

           
It
didn’t take that long for him to make up his mind. The boy who had used my face
as a doormat agreed to switch rooms without any more yelling, and he sent me a
mocking sneer over his shoulder as he walked away.

The crowd started to disperse.
Everyone went back into their rooms, unhappy that things hadn’t come to blows.
I was left standing alone in the hallway with Felix Farrow, wondering what had
just happened. How had I gotten out of that situation with all my limbs and
teeth intact?

           
Felix
gave me a look from top to bottom like he was sizing me up, and then he just
rolled his eyes. “You’ve got a knack for getting in trouble. Let’s hope that
doesn’t apply to the battlefield, too.”

           
I
didn’t know what to say to him except, “Thank you.”

He just shrugged and opened the dorm
room door, holding it so I could go in first.

“Is
Sile
going to be all right with this?” I wasn’t sure switching like this was
allowed.

           
He
gave me a strange look. “You mean Lieutenant Derrick?”

           
I
nodded. “Yeah. Will he be your sponsor now, too?”

           
“First
off, you can’t call him that anymore, kid.” Felix corrected me as he shut the
door behind us. He wandered over to one of the two single beds set up on
opposite sides of the room. He plopped his canvas bag there, claiming it as his
own. “He’s Lieutenant Derrick to us. We’re not on a first name basis with our
superior officers. Understand? That’ll get you smacked upside the head.
Whatever relationship with him you had before, it ends the minute you put on
your uniform. He’s your sponsor; he’s responsible for making sure you survive
this training. That’s his job. Private training, individualized attention, and
providing you with anything you need that your parents didn’t already give
you.”

           
“Oh,
right.” I nodded again.

           
Felix
unbuttoned his bag and started taking out his own books and uniforms, putting
them away into a small bedside table with a few drawers in it. “And to answer
your question, yes. I’ll have to talk to him about it to make sure it’s all
right, but I’m pretty sure they won’t care. In fact, I’m willing to bet
Lieutenant Derrick will be glad that you’re not rooming with Lyon. I heard he
was the one who bruised your face up.”

           
I
sank down to sit on my own bed, watching him unpack from across the room. I’d
never had a bed like this before. It was just a single-sized, hard mattress
covered in a stiff white sheet and wool blanket, but it was still nicer than
anything I’d ever had before.

           
“Is
that his name? Lyon?” I asked while I unfolded one of my uniform shirts to look
at it. It was just a plain, dark blue tunic with a golden eagle stitched on the
breast. It was made of a coarse, rugged fabric, and the sleeves were long
enough to be tucked into my
vambraces
, whenever I got
them.

           
“Lyon
Cromwell,” Felix confirmed. “Son
of
Viscount Cromwell,
and a third generation rider in his family.”

           
Hearing
that made my spirits sink some. I hadn’t even had my first day of training yet,
and I was already making powerful enemies. I looked up at Felix, who was still
busy putting his things away. “Why did you do that?” I dared to ask. “Why did
you agree to switch? No one else wants anything to do with me.”

           
He
stopped long enough to give me another strange look, arching one of his
eyebrows. I knew he was a noble, too. I’d heard Lyon call him the son of a duke,
and that was just a step below a prince. He definitely had that rich kid look
about him. His dark blonde hair was cut feathery around his face, and his
clothes were clean and expensive-looking. He even had a gold signet ring on his
hand with his family crest on it.

           
“You
think I should be worried about my reputation?” He asked.

           
“Well.”
I was hesitant to answer that. “I think anyone else would be.”

           
Felix
gave a noisy sigh and came around to sit on the edge of his bed, too, staring
at me while he sat across the room. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m sure my
dad’s not going to like it, but he doesn’t like a lot of things I do. Besides,
you’re interesting. A halfbreed paired with a wild-caught dragon? Maybe I’m
just waiting to see what amazing, unexpected thing you do next.”

           
I
was able to smile at him some, glancing back down at the uniform tunic in my
hands. “Like what? Surviving a year of dragonrider training at Blybrig
Academy?”

           
Felix
laughed loudly, grinning at me in that same mischievous way he had when I first
met him. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

           
The
dormitory was dark and quiet once we were all settled in. Felix was already
snoring in his bed, when I got back from the washroom down the hall. I hadn’t
gotten an opportunity to bathe in almost a week, and I knew probably stank to
high heaven. I finally got a chance to look at myself in the mirror behind the
washstand before I left. Now I understood why Felix had asked about my bruises.
Some were green and healing, but others were still deep purple. I could trace
the outline of
Ulric’s
hand on one of my cheeks, and
a boot print on my forehead.

           
I
hated seeing my reflection. It reminded me just how different I looked from
everyone else. If I combed my hair just right, no one could see my slightly
pointed ears. But you could still tell I was a halfbreed, even without that. My
features were a little sharper, and my cheekbones were high.
Katty
always told me I had a pretty face, and somehow that
never made me feel any better about it.

           
Crawling
under the stiff sheets of my bed, I curled up and tried to sleep. It didn’t
come easy, though, even if I was exhausted. Felix snored loudly, and sometimes
mumbled in his sleep. I couldn’t get over the sinking, swirling panic that made
me made me sick at my stomach whenever I thought about what I was about to do.
I still wasn’t sure I was cut out to be a dragonrider. Lieutenant Derrick had
faith in me, obviously. He was paying for all my gear, after all, and had
agreed to be my sponsor. Mavrik had faith in me, too, or he wouldn’t have
agreed to pair up with me. I didn’t want to disappoint either of them.

           
The
night passed slowly, and I stayed awake rubbing the necklace my mother had
given me while I stared at the shadows on the walls from the moonlight outside.
It was hard not to miss her. I wondered if she’d be proud of me.

           
Early
in the morning, I heard the trumpet sound that signaled it was time to get up.
It wasn’t even sunrise yet. I hadn’t slept much, so I was still tired. I moved
sluggishly to get up and start dressing.

           
Felix,
on the other hand, popped out of bed like he’d been bucked off a horse. I
couldn’t figure out how he’d even heard the trumpet over his own snoring. He
started scrambling to get dressed, putting on the same dark blue tunic and
black pants that matched my uniform. Neither of us had
vambraces
yet, but he had a belt that he buckled around his waist before he sat down to
put on his boots.

           
“Don’t
you have a sword belt?” he asked me.

           
I
shook my head, wondering if Lieutenant Derrick had forgotten to get me one. He
probably hadn’t expected he’d have to provide me an entire wardrobe.

           
“Here.”
Felix rummaged around through his belongings, tossing me a spare.

           
I’d
never worn a sword belt before. It was way too big, and I had a hard time
getting it to fit like I thought it should have. Finally, Felix came over with
a sigh to help me.

           
“Looks
like puberty forgot all about you, huh?” He chuckled as he punched a new hole
through the belt so it would fit me without falling off. “How old are you
anyway?”

           
I
told him, and he just stared at me like I’d grown a third eyeball.