Chapter 20 #2
The Temple Crone narrows her eyes. “You are lying, Dragonrider Kane. The Temple Mothers who witnessed the event told me how Auriana and Aurissa repeatedly attacked Nilak, and you deliberately collided with Scourge to unseat his rider. We are well within the rules of the Dragon Games to disqualify you all based on such reprehensible behavior.”
Stesha pushes through to the front. “Don’t disqualify them. I want to see them humiliate themselves in front of all of Maledin until they’re laughed at everywhere they go, and then I will beat them to a pulp in the final event.”
The Temple Crone glances at me. It was Stesha’s dragon who was injured, so he has more reason than me to want them gone. I approach him and say in a low voice, “Are you sure about this?”
“In just about every event going forward, they will be competing alone,” Stesha says. “They won’t have the chance to cheat, and they will reveal just how inept and undisciplined they are. Meanwhile you and I will easily regain the points we lost.”
“All right. If you’re sure.”
“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure,” he says, clenching his blood-red fists.
The Temple Crone has been following our conversation. “If the riders of the wild dragons willfully cause injury to another dragon, they will be disqualified from the games.”
“And their rider will be imprisoned in the dungeons for at least five years,” I add. “Ten if I’m feeling particularly pissed off, and I warn you that little makes me as angry as bleeding dragons.”
“As you wish, Ma’len ,” the Temple Crone says with a nod. “Then all that remains is to present the winners of the first event with their ribbons. Pavel and Lethis, you flew beautifully. An exemplary dragon and rider pair.”
A Temple Mother affixes a gold winner’s ribbon to Pavel’s riding leathers while he turns a vivid shade of crimson and ducks his head, a pleased smile on his lips.
“Rhan and Ragdyn.” The Temple Crone purses her lips, and adds, “You don’t seem to have indulged in any of the poor behavior shown by the other riders in your flare. May you continue in the same way and be an example to your friends.”
A Temple Mother gives him a severe look and ties a red ribbon to his riding clothes.
“And finally, Sundra and Merrex.” The Temple Crone beams at Sundra as the Alpha woman steps forward. There are ear-splitting whistles and cheers from the City Guard. “Your soldiers are proud of their captain, as well they should be.”
Sundra receives her white ribbon, and the brief ceremony is over. Stesha turns and heads straight back to Nilak, and the crowd breaks up and starts to drift away. After patting Scourge’s flank and telling him I’m proud of him, I seek Pavel out, who is showing his ribbon to Lethis. The majestic Alpha male dragon is snuffling at his chest in delight. I’ve always wondered how it feels when a rider is matched with a dragon of another designation. Perhaps Pavel prefers a strong-willed partner.
I reach out and clasp his wrist in congratulations. “I’m sorry that your win was overshadowed by other people’s poor behavior. You and Lethis flew beautifully. A well-deserved victory.”
Pavel shakes his head. “Lethis and I would not have won if the other dragons hadn’t attacked yours and the dragonmaster’s.” He adds hastily, “Not that I’m not grateful for your kind words, Ma’len . It was an honor just to compete on the queen’s coronation day.”
“Rhan came in second just behind you. That means you and Lethis managed to evade Ragdyn’s teeth. You obviously flew well, and you should be proud.”
Pavel stares at his own feet, but there’s a smile on his lips. “Thank you, Ma’len . I’m very proud of Lethis.”
I turn and feel something small and soft collide with my stomach. Looking down, I see that it’s Isavelle, and she has both arms wrapped around my waist.
“Zabriel, I’m so relieved you’re all right. When you came in last, I was worried that you or Scourge had been injured. Poor Nilak was bleeding so much, and there were terrible rumors that Scourge and Kane fought in midair.”
I hug her back and kiss the top of her head. “Auryn collided with Scourge and I fell in the lake, but I’m all right. I wanted to stay behind and make sure everyone got back safely.”
“Of course you did. You’re a wonderful king. How dare they do that to you.” Isavelle looks around, fuming. “Kane and the others should be disqualified.”
“Stesha didn’t want that. He would rather give Kane a thumping in the final event. I don’t think Auriana and Aurissa will be here for very long. Those sisters don’t seem happy that they were forced to attack another dragon.”
Isavelle glances across the dragongrounds, and we watch as the three yellow dragons and the scarlet dragon fly off to their own place to the north for the night. “Poor things. I feel sorry for them, having Kane as a dragonmaster.”
I take her hand and we walk together in the direction of the castle. “Shall we go and look at the board with tomorrow’s event, my queen? If I remember correctly, you and Esmeral will be competing.”
The Great Hall is busier than usual. Many of the people who watched the race have come here to drink ale and discuss the event. We gave them plenty to talk about, and I feel many commiserating pats on my shoulder as I lead my queen through the crowd.
“Those bastards won’t cheat their way to victory, Ma’len .”
“By staying back, you protected the flare, Ma’len . That’s a true dragonrider.”
“Good skies tomorrow, Ma’len .”
I appreciate the kind words, and I don’t begrudge Pavel and Sundra their ribbons, but I hope tomorrow is a better day for me and Scourge. Isavelle and I stop in front of the boards, and I feel a smile spread over my face and a blaze of competitiveness in my chest as I see the name of the next event. The Three Howls. Scourge’s size and strength won’t help us win, but this will be our chance to prove that size and strength isn’t all we have to offer.
The name isn’t familiar to Isavelle. “I’ve heard that this event is a simple task, is that right? Esmeral and I have only had time to train for the agility events.”
I rub my hand over my jaw. “More or less. It’s not a physically demanding event. More of an endurance event.”
Isavelle’s face falls. “Like a race? If it’s too strenuous, I suppose that means Esmeral and I shouldn’t compete.”
I smile and pull her against my side. “Actually, you and Esmeral could do very well in this event. It’s not that kind of endurance.”
The morning dawns with sunny skies and a crisp wind blowing. The scent of new leaves and tilled soil is in the air, and everyone in the castle is excited for the day’s entertainment.
All the competitors assemble at the dragongrounds after breakfast to watch the Temple Mothers and soldiers set everything up. One of the Temple Maidens explains the event to the competitors.
A dragon must walk three times across the dragongrounds while a rider collects a series of colored paper flags that will be wedged into the cliff face. A dragon can lift up on their rear legs, but they cannot fly, or the pair ends their participation. As the rider collects the flags, a musician performs a howl on their namyr, a shiny brass instrument that produces a mournful whining noise. It’s mildly annoying for a Maledinni, but repellent for a dragon. After the first pass, a second namyr player joins the howl, and then a third. The winner is whichever dragon and rider pair collects the most colored flags in the shortest amount of time. You can withdraw at any point with however many flags you’ve collected and not be disqualified.
The Temple Maiden glances at Kane and his fellow riders, and I know she’s thinking of their behavior the previous day as she adds, “If your dragon grows agitated, lift into the air and the music will cease. Please do not attack the namyr players. They will be protected by wingrunners, as wyverns are not affected by the instruments.”
Kane shrugs. “A few bad musicians making a racket? This will be easy.”
On my other side, a rider asks her companion, “He wishes. Have you ever heard a namyr?”
“No. Is it as bad as they say?”
“Worse.”
I grin to myself. Stesha once demonstrated this to us when I was with a group of trainee riders. Many dragons can’t hear the infuriating and distracting sound without immediately launching into the sky with a scream of indignation and flying away. Nilak bit a hole in the ground she was so enraged. The namyr was once used by our enemies hundreds of years ago to repel a dragon attack, so this event is excellent practice in case someone ever gets their hands on the instrument and uses it against us.
I fold my arms and lean my shoulder against my dragon. Scourge hated the namyr, but he didn’t roar, breathe fire, or fly away. There’s a good chance we will do well, though I sense that he’s agitated by the presence of Auryn and the other dragons of the wild flare. He’s taking Nilak’s injury personally.
Nearby, Isavelle is preparing with Esmeral, checking over her dragon’s scales and talons, her movements filled with nervous energy.
I go to my mate and take her hand, and go down on one knee. “Good skies to you, my queen. How are you feeling?”
Isavelle cups my cheek. “Nervous. I want the people to be proud of me and Esmeral. This might be the first look many of them are getting at two Omegas.”
She’s worried about looking weak and stupid in front of hundreds of people who are disposed to think of Omegas as weak and stupid. “You will never be anything but our formidable queen. Who fought Auryn and never received a scratch? Who brought all the villagers of western Maledin home? Who awoke the king beneath the mountain?”
Isavelle smiles. “Put like that, this event doesn’t seem like too much after all.”
“Exactly.” I get to my feet and kiss her. “I will be cheering for you, my queen. Thank you for gracing me with your colors.” I touch the golden ribbon tied around my arm, and then return to Scourge.
The Temple Crone arrives among us, and by her side is a very young, very frightened-looking Temple Maiden. She looks small and slight in the swaths of scarlet cloth.
“Please meet Janeza, our newest spellbreaker. She has been learning the protective incantation to repel the sound of the namyrs for several weeks. From now on, when you go into battle, she will be with you, and today she will show you her abilities.”
Janeza visibly swallows and takes a quick glance around us. It must be daunting to have so many dragonriders staring at her, but I give her a warm smile.
She turns pale, ducks her head in fearful respect, and squeaks, “ M-Ma’len .”
So much for reassuring her.
Crowds have assembled atop the castle battlements to watch the competition. A Temple Maiden wearing a blindfold takes a folded piece of parchment from a golden cup, and the Temple Crone reads the name written on it aloud. Verdun is the first dragon to compete, and she and her rider Calliope move to the other end of the dragongrounds where three namyr players are assembled.
With a nod from the Temple Crone, the first namyr player lifts her instrument to her lips and sounds a single note. I feel a shudder pass through the dragons and a blaze of irritated fury from Scourge.
The Temple Crone turns to the spellbreaker. “Janeza.”
The young woman takes a deep breath and lowers her head. As she slowly raises her arms, I see flickers of red dragon magic in her eyes, her fingertips, and faintly in the sky above us.
The Temple Crone nods to the namyr player again, and this time when she plays, we hear it, but it’s muffled. The dragons ruffle their wings and watch the musician with narrow eyes.
A steady drumbeat begins, timing the event, and Verdun and Calliope approach the cliff face. Verdun is a practiced battle dragon, and I expect the pair to do well together, and they do, working steadily as a pair so that Calliope can snatch down flags. When the second and third namyr players join the howl, Calliope does little but beat her wings a few times in annoyance.
A few of the less experienced dragonriders around me start to relax. They made it look easy, but I know it’s anything but easy.
“Verdun and Calliope, successful completion of the Three Howls in two hundred and eighty-seven drumbeats,” the Temple Crone announces.
The crowd cheers. People clap their hands, and dragons beat their wings. It’s a good result, and I congratulate a smiling Calliope and her dragon as they return to us.
Omaira and her rider Menelope compete next. Omaira is visibly upset by the namyr playing, and the pair move slowly through the task. When a second instrument joins the howl, she flaps her wings in distress and lifts all four feet off the ground. Dragon and rider have signaled the end of their participation. Everyone cheers and applauds good-naturedly as the pair return to our side of the dragongrounds.
Merrex and Sundra are next, and I watch them closely. Like Calliope and Verdun, this battle-tested Alpha pair is likely going to do well. And they do. By the end of the event, Sundra has tucked all the colored flags into the waistband of her breeches, and when she does a victory twirl with a huge smile on her face, they flutter around her.
I exchange looks with Stesha as the result is called. One hundred and ninety-two drumbeats. That’s the time to beat.
Nilak and Stesha are called forward to compete next. The drumbeats begin, and Stesha’s bad-tempered dragon makes no show of hiding how much she loathes the sound of the namyr, and one of her back feet slams repeatedly against the ground as she and her rider work through the task. As soon as Stesha holds the last colored flag aloft for the judges to see, Nilak screams in fury and launches into the sky, flying a lap of the dragongrounds, and returning to the rest of us and the safety of Janeza’s spell.
The dragonmaster slides neatly to the ground. Nilak rests her huge head on his shoulder while he caresses her snout and speaks softly to her.
One hundred and ninety-nine drumbeats. Merrex and Sundra are still in the lead, but that was close.
Next is Kane and Auryn, and a hush drops over the crowd as the yellow dragon paces slowly and heavily to the base of the cliffs. From his stiffly held wings and darting eyes, Auryn already seems on edge.
The drumbeats begin, and the first namyr plays. Kane is reaching for the first flag, but instantly Auryn rebels. The rider has to grasp the dragon’s back ridges with both hands to prevent himself from being tossed to the ground. The ferocious yellow dragon slams his talons against the ground and shakes his head as if a bee has flown into his ear canal. For a moment it seems as though Kane is going to lose control of his dragon, but the rider is able to focus his mount, and he snatches the first flag. He seizes a second and is about to grasp a third when Auryn rears up again, and belches dragonfire high into the air.
There are jeers and booing from the crowd. A rider who can’t reassure his dragon is a weak rider. Still, once Auryn has made his protest known, he and Kane continue with the event, albeit slowly, and manage to collect every flag.
As soon as the last one is collected, Auryn roars and leaps into the air, a golden streak in the sky, and disappears from view beyond the castle.
“And stay away!” one of the dragonriders shouts after him, and everyone laughs.
Stesha isn’t far away from me, and I stroll over to him. “What do you make of that?”
“Better than I expected,” Stesha finally admits. “But he took too long, and if they don’t come back for the next event, I won’t cry about it.”
I doubt anyone will.
The Temple Crone calls, “Queen Isavelle and the dragon Esmeral.”
As my mate takes a breath and prepares herself, I lean down and kiss her. She wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes me.
“Any last words of advice for me?”
“These games are for you. You are my victor and my queen and the most wonderful woman in the world.”
She laughs and kisses me. “That’s not advice. That’s flattery.”
“It’s the truth in my heart. One day we’ll tell our son or daughter how their beautiful, brave mother took them flying in the Dragon Games, and they’ll be just as proud of you as I am.”
She plants a kiss on my nose and whispers, “I love you, Zabriel.”
Once she’s settled atop her dragon, she takes a deep breath, looks straight ahead, and she and Esmeral move toward the cliff face. The namyr begins, and Esmeral shakes her head several times as if a fly is bothering her. Isavelle is able to soothe her, and they collect flags. When the second namyr starts to play, Esmeral slows down, but keeps moving. When the third namyr joins the howl, she cringes toward the ground.
They’re so close to finishing. I clench my fists tightly, willing the little dragon to hold on a little longer if she can.
The pair collect two more flags, but it’s clear that Esmeral is struggling and becoming distressed. Isavelle leans forward over her dragon’s neck. Then she slides to the ground, hurries around, and takes Esmeral’s head between her hands, covering the sensitive membrane over her ears. The namyr players cease.
“My dragon refused to forfeit, but I’m withdrawing us,” she calls out to the Temple Crone.
“Very well done, Queen Isavelle. Bring your flags back to be counted.”
As Isavelle leads Esmeral back to us, the little dragon’s head is hanging low. Isavelle has her hand resting on the dragon’s neck, and she’s murmuring soft words. As soon as she hands her flags over to a Temple Mother, I go over to my mate and her dragon.
“She didn’t want to let me down, but the music was hurting her,” Isavelle explains. “She’s ashamed that we weren’t able to do any better than Kane and Auryn.”
I take Esmeral’s lowered head in my hands and stroke my thumbs across her jaw. “You’re a brave dragon who never wants to let your rider down. That is a precious and wonderful thing. Everyone knows you did your best.”
Esmeral’s sad eyes relent a little at my soft tone. Scourge has approached us as well. Her mate buffets his head lovingly against her, and I go on stroking her. Together, Scourge and I comfort and fuss over the Omega. She reminds me of Isavelle when she first came to my castle, so scared and uncertain. Eventually Esmeral’s muscles relax, and she lowers her hunched wings.
“Are you withdrawing from the Dragon Games altogether, Esmeral?” I ask, and wait for Isavelle to pose the question to her dragon.
The dragon’s beautiful head shoots up and she trills in defiance.
“Then your heart is as strong as any dragon’s in the king’s flare. You and Isavelle are proving yourselves by looking out for each other. I’m proud of you both.”
Isavelle twines her fingers through my hair and rests her cheek against my chest with a smile on her lips. “Thank you, Alpha. I’m proud of us, too.”
I smile down at her, admiring the sweet way she’s resting against me with her eyes closed. That Thank you, Alpha has made my knot thicken and heat flush through my body.
I don’t realize that the Temple Crone is calling for Scourge and me until Isavelle lifts her head with a gasp. “Zabriel, it’s your turn.”
I’m still drifting on thoughts of bedding my mate. “Hm? What, our turn?”
“Quickly, go,” Isavelle laughs, pushing me toward my dragon. “Your scent is telling, Alpha, but you and I will have to wait until we’re alone.”
I grin and give her a swift, deep kiss, then climb up my dragon’s flank and into the saddle. I can feel my dragon’s determination to win as well as his desire to show the other dragons how calm and focused he can remain under duress.
When the namyr player begins, I focus on clearing my mind and keeping it calm as I quickly and methodically collect the flags. I can feel Scourge gnashing his teeth by the time the third namyr player enters the howl, but he doesn’t slow down, and he doesn’t reveal his irritation.
The moment I seize the last flag, the drumbeats cease and so do the musicians.
I lean forward and pat Scourge’s scales, feeling the tension drain out of his body.
Magnificent , I tell him as we head back to the others. But was it enough for us to win? I can tell Scourge is wondering it as well as he has his head turned in the direction of the Temple Crone.
I slide down Scourge’s flank and scoop my mate into my arms. Panting slightly, I listen for the Temple Crone announcing our result.
“Scourge and Zabriel collected every flag in one hundred and ninety-five drumbeats.”
My heart soars hearing ninety , but plummets back to earth with the five . Merrex and Sundra were faster by three beats. Just three beats.
“Dragon piss,” I mutter.
Isavelle brushes the backs of her fingers over my sweaty cheeks. “You’re disappointed. But you and Scourge were wonderful.”
“I wanted to win to make my queen proud.”
“I’m already proud of you,” my mate reminds me.
I know she is, but I want the heady taste of victory on my tongue when I kiss her. “We will just have to try even harder during the next event, won’t we, Scourge?” My dragon raises his head proudly and snorts sparks in agreement.
At the end of the event, Sundra, me, and Stesha are presented with our gold, red, and white ribbons, respectively, and the Temple Mothers update the leaderboard. Sundra has seven points and is in first place. Pavel has five in second place. I have two points in third place, and Stesha and Rhan each have one point and share fourth place.
“You and Scourge did well, Ma’len . I’m impressed by both of you.”
I turn and see that the dragonmaster has approached so he can also inspect the board. Stesha holds out his right hand to me, and we clasp wrists in mutual congratulations.
“So did you and Nilak,” I tell him.
“I’m proud of my dragon, but this was never our event. I’m too easily irritated.” The dragonmaster is calm, but behind him, Nilak’s bandaged tail lashes as she glares at the namyr players crossing the dragongrounds back toward the castle. They see her watching them with her teeth bared and walk a little faster.
I remember Stesha’s maxim that he drilled into our skulls when he was teaching us to ride. If a dragon makes a mistake, it’s always their rider’s fault. In this case I’m not certain I’d agree, but I don’t dare argue with Stesha while his dragon is in such a foul mood.
Stesha jerks his chin at the sky behind me, and I turn and see a dragon approaching from the east. Auryn lands, his scales flashing in the sunlight, and Kane drops to the ground. Dragon and rider stand apart from the rest of us, their hard black eyes glaring at all who dared laugh at them.
“So he’s come back,” Stesha murmurs. “Good.”
“Still determined to best him in the Dragon Games?”
“If my heart is beating, you can assume so.” He takes a long, slow look around the dragongrounds and spies Aurissa and Auriana with their riders. “Those two idiots haven’t been turned into dragon fodder yet. Normally I would hesitate over dragons who have tasted human flesh, but when their riders are so pathetic, I don’t believe we can hold it against them. The right rider need never worry it will happen a second time, under the right dragonmaster, of course.”
“Stesha, what are you talking about?”
“Did you know it’s possible to assimilate wild dragons into an established flare?”
Aurissa and Auriana came to the dragongrounds to compete today, but both Rhan and Corin didn’t believe it was wise to enter the Three Howls, or the sisters refused. The dragonmaster is watching the sisters closely.
“You’re a dark beast sometimes, Stesha. Once I was afraid you were trying to steal my mate. Kane lost his mind over you taking Ravenna from him. Now you’ve got your hungry eyes on Aurissa and Auriana. You’re always interfering with someone’s woman.”
“What on earth would I do with someone else’s woman?” he says, but his attention returns to the golden sisters, and his eyes gleam. “Dragons, though. Dragons are another matter entirely.”