58. The Assessment #2
Veil meant we had to drop, to fly just high enough over the tree canopy that a dragon couldn’t be seen from a distance by those on the ground.
When that order was given in a squad, the pivots would spread wide, trailing the wings so each little cluster of dragons made a diamond shape, and numbers would be difficult to count from the ground.
I was supposed to follow Kennik down, then settle beside and behind. But Kennik didn’t drop.
As the other pair eased off to our left, descending, he held his line, looking back over his shoulder in their direction, his lips moving as if he muttered to himself.
“Descend! Off side! I’ll follow!” I screamed.
He shot me another dark look, but a heartbeat later, Conn tilted to the right and began to descend.
I caught the officer we passed watching and frowning, but what choice did I have?
For the next fifteen minutes, any time Kennik didn’t immediately respond to the instruction, I called his direction.
He glared at me more than once, eyes blazing, even shouted something at one point, but my ears thudded with my frantic pulse.
I was terrified this man would cause me to fail my assessment, and if this was showing me anything, it was that I needed to be able to fly alone—and that Koa needed to be working more closely with the other dragons.
Especially those in my squad, whom we’d fight alongside in battle.
There were no further near-collisions, and only a couple more curses from Kennik before we reached the end of the flying lane, as it had been dubbed. Now miles from the Keep, the two officers on dragons sweeping back and forth before us, were the sign that we were about to be ordered to return.
“Flameborne! Sweep and reverse! Await next instructions, and hold your line!”
The relief that coursed through me broke a half-laugh from my throat.
We’d completed the full formations. We were now each free to peel off and turn back, to fly the way we’d come.
We would receive new instructions on the way, but I’d been warned they may well be individual.
It would depend on what the captains had decided about our test.
Each of us took a wide sweep, turning until we came back together in reverse of the line we’d been holding on the way.
We flew wing-tip to wing-tip, Kennik now on my right, but since we were at the same level, we wouldn’t tangle unless one of the dragons shifted their line.
“I don’t need your instruction! Keep your mouth shut this time!” he bellowed at me, the wind of the dragon’s passage almost stealing his words away.
“If we have to move together, I have no choice!”
The other pair looked over at us. One of them grinned. The urge came to make a rude gesture. Apparently I’d been spending too much time with Gil.
Gripping Koa’s neck strap more tightly, I took a deep breath, counted my inhale and exhale, and settled my nerves.
We would soon approach one of the officers who’d called formations on our first pass. I prayed whatever he called this time, I could either make the maneuver alone, or Kennik would remember the correct form.
But strangely, as we passed the first officer, he only waved us on, back to the Keep.
Were we already finished? I scrambled, trying to remember what my squad had told me about the second half of the flight. I knew the instructions would be given, and might not involve the other Flameborne, but that was all I could recall.
I looked aside, relieved that none of the others had done anything but keep flying.
Then I remembered the instruction. Hold the line.
Relieved, I nodded to myself and sat back. Until we were given another instruction, we were to continue on this path, without changing height.
We were still far over the sea. The coastline of Vosgaarde, those dark, black cliffs with the teeth-like rocks pushing up out of the waves that gave the coastline its name—the Dragonmaw Cliffs—slowly approached.
And yet, once we passed that line, it was only a matter of minutes until we passed directly over the Keep itself.
We’d been sent out from a different clearing, not the launch hollow. But no one had mentioned where we would end.
Were we done?
The knot of nerves in my stomach yanked tighter.
The closer we drew to the Keep, the more nervous I became. I couldn’t shake it. It didn’t make sense. There had to be another instruction, surely? Yet every officer we passed, their dragons flying lazily in figure-eights to keep them in the same area, only waved us on.
I looked across to the other Flameborne. Kennik was frowning, but that wasn’t new. The other two looked worried and confused. At least it wasn’t just me.
‘Koa, do you remember any instructions for what this part of the test should be? Have we passed? Or not passed? Is something going on?’
‘I do not know, Grace.’
I chewed my lip, watching for any signal I might have missed, but then we approached the coastline, flying directly over the booming of the waves against those awful cliffs. In moments, the gleaming, black Academy building would be clearly visible in the morning sun.
There were only three more officers left—the last one circling over the launch hollow itself, which couldn’t be more than minutes flight away. Were we being called back? Had we failed already and were just being ushered home?
We were about to draw level with the officer, just off the coastline, when he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Flameborne, Scatter!”
Scatter—all dragons to move in different directions. A way of confusing or dispersing enemy resources when a clash seemed imminent, or we’d been taken by surprise.
I immediately sent to Koa, urging her to wheel off to the left, since all the other riders were at my right.
But to my frustration, Kennik banked to follow me.