Chapter 22 Forced Flight
FORCED FLIGHT
Lark traced her fingers along Ingamar’s foreleg, each scale a masterwork of the gods.
The overlapping plates felt like weathered granite beneath her touch.
Ingamar remained perfectly still, his posture stoic as he patiently waited whatever was to come next.
The sky painted itself in layers of rose-gold and amber, like molten ore.
“With his tail fully extended, he’s twenty-six feet in length,” Venrick said, admiring the dragon with a halfcocked smile.
Her hand fell away from Ingamar’s shoulder, the lingering heat of his body still warming her palm.
Standing beside the dragon, she found herself dwarfed by his magnificent form.
The junction where his wings met his back rose to her eye level.
Each wing membrane held patterns like sheets of hammered gold, veined with darker ridges of his magical blood.
“On all fours, with his neck straight up, he’s twelve feet to the crown of his head,” Venrick said.
“That’s a proportional height for his length,” Lark said, regurgitating the compliment as it emerged from the fog of her memory.
“His wingspan is twenty-eight feet.”
“That is…” Where did she learn that that wingspan was seven feet longer than average for a golden?
“Impressive,” Venrick finished her thought.
“Exactly.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes. I’m still struggling to wrap my head around all this.
How I know that those sizes for a golden are standard, except for the wingspan.
How it will make him faster. He’ll have a longer range with that glide, yet his compact body will allow for quick maneuvering.
How do I know that larger dragons, like an onyx or albino, are more destructive on infantry?
Yet, these larger breeds are outmatched when it comes to aerial battle.
Ingamar is a versatile size, especially for a rider with an adaptable set of skills,” she said.
“Ingamar was a perfect match for Tel. They paired at the end of Tel’s first year in the Astral City Paragon Academy, a full year before the students are presented to non-bonded dragons looking for riders,” Venrick remembered.
“He must be heartbroken that Tel is gone,” Lark said, looking up at the magnificent creature.
Venrick nodded sharply.
She stood next to Ingamar, admiring his golden scales.
They varied in size. Some were large and rugged like those across his shoulders, chest, and back, while other smaller and finer scales surrounded his pointed muzzle, his intense eyes, and flexible joints.
Each paw was armed with retractable claws.
Rounded knobs traced the length of his spine, threatening to erupt into spikes, but never quite reaching the jagged sharpness of those crowning his head.
Like a lion’s mane, spines overlapped in layers, forming a fearsome beard and cape.
Two imposing horns bowed back from either side of his head.
His eyes shone with a gold richer than his scales, set deep above his armored snout.
Around his brows, spiked nodules accentuated his intense gaze, giving him fierce resting glare that was almost wolf-like.
“Majestic, isn’t he? What I would do to get a chance to train at the Academy in Astral City,” Venrick said wistfully.
Ingamar flexed, taut corded muscle rippling under his armored hide. Smoky tendrils seeped from his nostrils, as he sported a soft but present growl.
“Why doesn’t he like you? And don’t give me that bull spit you told me about vying for Tel’s attention like you tried to play off last night. This is deeper than that,” Lark said.
Venrick’s lips drew into a line.
“You two have known each other for ten years, right?” she said, motioning toward Ingamar while looking at Venrick for an answer. “How can he be so abrasive toward you?”
“Dragons do not forgive easily. They can sense things within us that aren’t apparent on the surface.
I can think of a few reasons why Ingamar isn’t warming to me.
The first being that he could blame me for Tel’s death as I wasn’t able to help prevent it.
The second, which is what I believe more strongly, is that it’s because I’m half Gambrian wood elf. ”
“What would that have to do with it?” she asked, genuinely perplexed.
“A long time ago, I’m talking several Flashovers, something happened between the elves of Gambria and the dragons.
There was a war because of which both species’ survival were threatened.
Though I didn’t have anything to do with causing this rift, I still have elven blood. Dragons hold grudges,” Venrick said.
“I don’t think that’s it. His anger feels fresher than age-old hatred or prejudice. His discomfort has become more intense since you mentioned that academy,” Lark noted.
“I wish he could speak. Then he could tell us,” Venrick said.
“Dragons can communicate with their riders,” Lark said.
“But they can’t talk. It’s more of an emotional pushing and pulling,” he confirmed.
“When a rider is with their dragon, they’re in sync. Their thoughts meld, and they don’t need words to let the other one know what they intend to do. In flight, it’s as though they are one,” Lark said.
“Your memory of dragons is quickly improving. It’s clear that you at least trained with dragons in your past. I’m curious to see how Ingamar will react to you riding him.”
“My memory is fickle. I seem to pick these facts out of the fog as we talk,” she said, rubbing her temples.
“It’s like I’m saying things without fully processing what it is I’m talking about.
As soon as it comes out, I’m left wondering how I got that information in the first place.
Was I really a rider or was I a Squire like you? ”
“I don’t know. I don’t recognize you from the Vermillion Keep or the Academy in Astral City. I didn’t know any from Keep Lamar or the Academy there. What I do know is Ingamar chose to save you all on his own. I believe that means something.”
“Can I really do this, just hop on him and ride?” she asked.
“The only way you’ll know is if you try,” Venrick responded, urging her on. “Ingamar wouldn’t chose to save you if he didn’t believe you were special. The question you need to ask yourself is if you’re ready to find out why.”
“Even if I wasn’t a rider, this could make me one,” she said.
“Lark, you’re strong, capable, and tenacious. Others would’ve abandoned the Hyalite if they were in your position. But not you, you’re different. Ingamar believes you are worthy and so do I.”
Lark’s cheeks flushed as she realized she was leaning closer to Venrick. That same warmth burned in her chest. She blinked, realizing that warmth wasn’t coming from her emotions, it was coming from the necklace. Lark held her breath for a moment, waiting for Nix to appear.
Where is she? Lark thought.
“There’s a storm building,” Venrick said, following her gaze.
Ingamar’s attention had turned toward the storm, distracting Lark, and drawing her toward it too. That sensation to drop everything and go to the storm nagged at her.
“Ingamar can sense when a storm has power,” Venrick said.
“Once a dragon takes in the power of a Hyalite, they share a connection with others that come to Sataran from Thalindor. The firestorms thin the veil between our realms, offering opportunities for the gods to force their power through to our world. If they are nearby, dragons can sense when a god’s power is preparing to come through,” Venrick said.
Lark rolled the metal necklace between her fingers.
A familiar warmth bloomed from the metal, seeping into her skin, spreading through her veins in waves that matched her heartbeat.
The sensation rippled outward, a rhythmic pulse that resonated in her bones.
That pulse mirrored the energy emitted from the Hyalite when she had had it.
Each beat seemed to pull at something deep within her, as if the two sources of power were calling to each other across some unseen divide.
“That storm building within view is all the more reason to get out there and try this flight while you can. If Hyalites or Yogos arrive with that storm, you know there will be Paragons, Knights, and their troops moving in. All kinds of attention you don’t want.”
“You? Didn’t you mean to say we, right?” Lark said.
“We? No, I said you for a reason. You need to take this flight, not me. Last time I was on Ingamar he tried to kill me, multiple times.”
“What if I can’t bring him back?”
“He will return if you want him to,” Venrick said.
“What if we aren’t bonded and he doesn’t listen to me. I don’t know if I can find this place again. Once we leave this floating island, he might decide not to come back for you. You said it yourself; he doesn’t like you.”
“I could see him leaving me up here…” Venrick mused.
“You have to come with me,” Lark said, a sense of relief washing over her.
A part of Lark didn’t believe that she and Ingamar had formed a bond strong enough to tap into yet.
He clearly wanted to protect her but was that just because he was after the Hyalite?
What if Ingamar decided he didn’t need her anymore and shook her off?
“Do you think you can you keep him from throwing me?” Venrick asked.
“I can’t promise anything. He might try throwing me, too,” she replied.
Venrick’s jaw worked, grinding like millstones as he weighed his options. Face certain death in Ingamar’s vengeful talons or embrace the slow decay of starvation.
Before them, Ingamar patiently waited at the edge of the drop. Lark’s heart thundered in her chest, each beat reverberating through her body like a war drum, the weight of what she was about to do coming into focus.
“I’m going to climb into the saddle,” she said, her voice hollow and distant.