58. The Assessment
~ VOSKI ~
I stood at the back of my brothers and sister, watching. Barely able to breathe.
It had been a slow, and humiliating week. Ronen yanked me off patrols, and set me to work in the stables, like a common prospect.
I’d almost gone to Donavyn, but something in my chest went tight every time I thought of it.
It was such a whiny thing to do. Kham warned me against pressing any further, plus, Donavyn was so busy, we’d barely seen him in the Keep.
Even today, he accompanied the queen. Bren was worried about him not getting enough sleep, trying to do the job of three men as they restructured the kingdom’s military, attempted to clear the problems in the city, and navigated the change with the dragons and Furyknights—meanwhile, out of sight, he directed the Shadowfang in efforts to uncover anyone who’d worked with the traitors we identified in Fyrehold, as well.
A scheme most Furyknights didn’t even know had brought about this upheaval.
They only thought the kingdom was in flux because of the king’s death.
None of them knew how close they’d come to a coup.
Bren was right to worry for Donavyn. But I also knew, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Because the opportunity to pull him aside without a formal request hadn’t presented itself, I’d taken Kham’s advice, and kept my head down for the last five days, doing what I was told without argument. But inside, I simmered.
This should never have happened today. Not for Grace. My heart rose in my throat right alongside her on her dragon.
I was almost tempted to leave and not put myself through the torment of watching her risk her life.
But, after Ronen announced this morning that I’d be allowed back on normal duties, I knew it would just look petty.
I didn’t know whether him returning me to duties today was because I’d been well behaved, as Gil had mocked me the night before.
Or if Ronen specifically wanted me to be here.
Either way, I was screwed. Because, of course, the first order of business for the entire squad was to attend Grace’s assessment.
I was glad the others were so focused on Grace that they didn’t notice me hanging behind, instead of beside them. Not because I didn’t want her to succeed. But because I was afraid of what we might witness today. And if I lost control of my reactions, I didn’t want them to see that.
Gil still surreptitiously needled me about Grace whenever he could get away with it. While I’d kept a tight lid on my frustration, the physical labor of cleaning cesspits and stables, and other menial tasks, had also taken some of the heat out of my fire.
Maybe that had been Ronen’s plan all along, I thought dryly.
But now, my heart thudded in my ears as Grace, alongside three men, launched her dragon and wheeled into the sky.
I’d wanted to avoid this. The night before I’d woken three times from nightmares of that fall in her Acknowledgement flight, each time, my body convinced that she was plummeting to her death, this time without Koa to catch her.
Now, I trembled with tension as she flew for the very first time, absolutely alone.
What if she fell?
What if Koa tangled with another dragon by accident? She was still learning the formations as well. What if—
‘You cannot avoid the possibility simply by listing them, Voski. Breathe.’ Kham’s voice was kind.
To my surprise, when he’d heard about my confrontation with Ronen, he’d seemed more worried than angry. I didn’t like the feeling that he tip-toed around my angst. But then, I’d barely had time or energy to think about it until today.
We all shaded our eyes with our hands, watching the four dragons fly into the sky and form a line, the two pivot dragons side by side, their wings to either side and slightly behind.
I was glad Grace flew wing—more room for error—but surprised.
I’d been certain she’d volunteer for pivot.
And with it being the harder position, I’d feared the men would let her.
There was no doubt in my mind she was capable of it.
But would Koa and the other dragon, who barely knew each other, have been able to communicate well enough to keep their flight lines unconfused?
So much could go wrong.
When Bren had taken this assessment, the other Flameborne had tried to sabotage her. She’d succeeded anyway. There was no patience for any of those shenanigans from our superiors. I prayed Grace wouldn’t suffer a similar fate.
But, all I could do was stand here like an impotent idiot and wait to see what happened.
I hated this. Hated it with a deep and abiding passion.
A slow, deep wave of love and reassurance washed over me from my dragon. I blinked, surprised.
‘Kham, I’m fine. I just hate standing around, waiting to see what will come.’
He didn’t respond, but that pulse of warm, confident reassurance didn’t stop.
I sighed and peered up into the sky again as the first formation was called by the captains, who’d also placed themselves in flight to call the formations.
Let her make it through safely. Please. Just let her make it through.
~ GRACE ~
We were only four formations in when, with a sinking heart, I accepted that we had a problem.
The man who’d partnered with me, who’d refused to give me his name, either didn’t know all the formations, or was forgetting his position within them.
Pivot was a critical position in any formation.
Bren and the brothers had told me over and over that Gil was our primary pivot, but Voski and Jhoare were next.
Where a formation required more than one pivot—which most did if there were more than two or three dragons—then we focused only on the pivot closest to us in our position.
I hadn’t yet been given a permanent position in the squad—and wouldn’t until I was pinned.
So, in order to teach me for this assessment, and the later flying trial, the brothers had placed me in several different positions, and we’d flown the formations multiple times.
In each case, I had to learn the correct line for the position I’d been assigned.
It was becoming clear that my partner either hadn’t done those exercises, or had forgotten his practice under the pressure of the trial.
Time and again he was two seconds behind the other pair in moving off after the formation was called. Clearly watching them for cues.
As his wing, I couldn’t move until he did. And on the occasions when he moved in the wrong position, he almost tangled me with other dragons.
Ten minutes into the formations, the second time Koa almost collided with the other wing because he was too slow to move off their line, I had had enough.
‘Koa, can you reach his dragon?’
‘Yes, Conn is kind.’
‘What is his name? If we don’t do something, he’s going to get us hurt. Or worse.’
It was a moment before she replied. ‘His name is Kennik. The Cock.’ I spluttered when she sent that word, but then the flickering image of a rooster, crowing to the morning sun had me swallowing giggles instead.
‘Thank you,’ I said, just as the officer on a dragon not far away called the next formation.
“Cleave!” he shouted.
I was relieved. The formation was supposed to make a wedge, dragons staggering height so they could fly tightly to fire or penetrate space against other dragons, giving them the smallest possible target from the forward position.
It didn’t require a turn or wheel, which had been the formations Kennik seemed to struggle with the most.
I urged Koa to edge closer, but drop slightly below Kennik’s dragon. When done correctly, the pivot “dragged” the wing, the air flow from the foremost dragon’s down-flap creating a current to the wing following—and if several dragons followed, each provided additional current to the one behind.
Unfortunately, in the precise moment I told Koa to move closer, but drop below Conn’s line, Kennik apparently ordered his dragon to also drop.
Koa screeched, and the blue male, Conn, screamed in return. Both dragons adjusted quickly, but Kennik cursed and shot me a glare over his right shoulder.
“It’s cleave! Not Phalanx!” I shouted at him. “Hold your line!”
“You hold yours! You follow me!”
‘Koa, can you ask Conn to tell Kennik he’s getting the formations wrong.’
‘He knows. But we are to listen. To show our Flameborne in their truth.’
It was another moment I wished I could spit a swear word like the men did so freely.
We’d been warned ahead of time that the dragons were instructed not to assist us, except to keep us from killing ourselves or each other.
They were to take our instruction, and not correct us until or unless the maneuver became potentially dangerous.
This was because the dragons were usually so in tune with each other, they could fly in formation without words or instructions.
But they made formation to assist us in our endeavors—and the officers wanted to see that we knew the correct positions.
To add to Kennik’s apparent mistakes, Koa struggled with formation.
Not because she couldn’t fly well, but because she wasn’t accustomed to using the herd link and flying in a coordinated fashion in specific positions.
Wild dragons communicated with each other, but didn’t remain connected when they weren’t speaking.
And, if they flew together, they kept enough space to react to each other’s movements safely.
They reached out each time they wished to converse.
We’d hit some problems with this during training, and she was learning. But, she hadn’t flown with Conn before. She would learn him with time, but we had seconds, not hours.
This was becoming dangerous. And it wasn’t my fault.
Before I could figure out what to send to Kennik through the dragons, we approached the next officer hovering on the flight path, and another formation was called.
“Flameborne! Veil!”