Basgiath's Threshing Trial

Brennan

Today is the day I make my parents proud, the day I become a rider like my mother and her parents before me.

Or I could die and become the greatest disappointment in the Sorrengail line.

Damn, I really hope not.

Somehow, dying is preferable to Mom feeling like she needs to change my last name on my headstone because I didn’t live up to it. Her familial line is so legendary among riders that Dad took her last name when they married, even though his was equally powerful among scribes.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Flynn Ennis asks as first-years scatter into Threshing Valley. The muscular brunet clutches the pommel of his short sword as if the weapon has a chance of protecting him from a dragon.

Unlike Ennis, I grew up close enough to Aimsir—Mom’s dragon—to know that if a dragon wants to kill you, you’re already dead. They couldn’t care less about any weapon smaller than a crossbolt, and raising a sword will just piss them off.

“I’m sure.” I give him a curt nod and a quick half smile to assuage the fear shining in his eyes.

We spent a night together a few weeks ago, but I can’t let anything I feel for him sway me from my years of preparation for this moment.

Especially when he’s making a stupid choice. “See you on the flight field, Ennis.”

“See you on the flight field, Sorrengail,” he replies, a barely noticeable tremble to his mouth. He turns back to a handful of my squadmates, and the group takes off together into the forest of enormous trees.

Gods, they’re foolish.

I watch as they disappear, and my heart clenches.

It’s likely the last time I’ll see some—if not all—of them.

They’re making a mistake, choosing the perceived safety of numbers and ignoring Professor Kaori’s advice to conquer this challenge on our own, but nothing I’ve said in the past few days has swayed them.

Trying to convince them now would only be an exercise in futility, and today is not the day to expend needless energy or waste time.

The only decisions I can impact are my own. I need to find the highest, most central tree in the valley, then keep watch as dragons move below until I feel the one who’s meant for me. It’s a simple and, hopefully, effective plan. I should be landing on the flight field in the next hour.

A shape moves in my peripheral vision, and my stomach dips as I pivot toward the threat, my head whipping to the right as a figure in the cream uniform of the scribes steps out from behind a wide tree trunk a dozen feet away.

“Dragons loathe crowds. Good choice to handle this on your own,” Dad says with a nod of approval, the dappled sunlight catching the gold threads of the major rank stitched onto the shoulder of his tunic as he walks my way, opening his arms.

“Dad?” There’s barely time to pick my jaw up off the ground before he pulls me into a hug, his hand thumping my back.

I grasp on to him, breathing in the soothing scent of parchment that clings to his uniform, and something rights deep within me, steadies me.

Mom may be the rigid spine of our family, but Dad is the heart. “What are you doing here?”

“Here as in Basgiath?” He pulls back, gifting me with a wide grin my mother has always sworn we share.

We also have the same reddish hue to our hair, though his is slowly turning silver in streaks and mine is given to curl, and identically straight noses.

The older I get, the more I look like him, which doesn’t bother me in the least. “Or here as in the valley?”

“Both.” Very few scribes are authorized to enter the Riders Quadrant, but none are given permission to witness Threshing.

“I thought you were on assignment somewhere classified.” He’s been gone since May, which isn’t uncommon given that he’s one of the scribe academics more dedicated to historical analysis than recording current events.

He’s known to disappear for months at a time, first to research, then to write, but he always brings the best gifts back with him.

“I returned in August.” His brow knits. “I’m sorry I missed Conscription Day, but there was no way I was letting you walk into Threshing without seeing you.”

My gaze darts to the forest around us, and I breathe a little easier when I can’t spot any other riders. “I’m relieved you’re here, but the rules are pretty merciless if you get caught—”

“If I obeyed the rules, my rank would be higher. Don’t worry about me. I’ll take my chances with the new commander of the Riders Quadrant.” His grin deepens. “That newly pinned colonel has a soft spot for me.”

I snort. “‘Soft’ isn’t a word I’d ever apply to Mom.

At least not to her face.” My expression falls, a freedom I haven’t given myself since crossing the parapet in July, but I don’t have to be on guard with my father.

“She only blunts her edges for two people on the Continent, and if I fail today, that number falls to one.”

“You’re her favorite, but she’s her own kind of soft when it comes to your sisters, whether or not the three of you realize it.” Dad clasps my shoulder, his hazel eyes softening. “And you won’t fail.”

“I don’t want to let her down,” I admit in a whisper.

“Either of you.” There hasn’t been a moment in my life where I haven’t been acutely aware of my father’s accomplishments or the respect my mother commands from every rider I’ve ever encountered.

I don’t mind the weight of their legacies, but I don’t want to be defined by them, either, which is really fucking hard given that I chose to wear rider black.

“Are you angry I didn’t enter the Healer Quadrant after you spent so much time teaching me about herbs? ”

Mom focused on teaching me tactics, as though she always knew I’d cross the parapet.

“Never. Listen to me.” Dad leans in. “You could never disappoint me, Brennan.” He shakes his head, his eyes searching mine.

“Your integrity, compassion, and wit make you a man of exceptional character, the kind any parent would be proud of. Your mother will be thrilled to see you land on the flight field no matter what dragon is wise enough to claim you. Her only expectation is that you live, and I think you’ll find that has far more to do with being your mother than being your commander.

Our hearts couldn’t take it if anything happened to you. ”

I nod, swallowing the knot of emotion trying its hardest to block my throat. “How are Mira and Violet?”

Mom doesn’t give me any special treatment in the quadrant, which means I’ve been cut off from letters and news from the rest of my family just like the other first-years.

Never thought I’d see a day where I’d miss my little sisters annoying the shit out of me every minute, but I do.

Constantly. I miss Mira’s footsteps trailing behind me and the way Violet smiles when she learns something new.

“Headstrong and precariously curious. In that order.” Another grin flashes across his face as he drops his hand. “Mira nearly thrashed Dain Aetos last week when Violet fell out of a tree the two of them had been climbing.”

“She’s a little overprotective.” A smile curves my mouth, then quickly falters. “Was Violet hurt?” She’s always been frailer than Mira or me, prone to joint dislocations and broken bones, but the strength of her mind is unparalleled.

A scream sounds from the south, and my head snaps toward the forest, but Dad barely glances. My heart rate skyrockets, and smoke rises above the trees a moment later, scenting the air with a warning of imminent danger. People are dying out there, and I’m about to chance the same fate.

“Violet’s fine. Nothing that couldn’t be mended,” Dad assures me, jarring me from my thoughts.

“Good.” Thank the gods for menders. The gift is rare, but the riders with the signet for putting broken things back together, like Nolon, are a blessing to my sister. We need more of them.

A tree ignites in the distance, and my mouth goes dry.

“So what color are you hoping for?” Dad asks casually.

“I would have loved a black dragon, but none are willing to bond this year. I’m leaning toward green, given their more reliable, reasonable nature. It’s probably easier to strategize with a dragon you can depend on. Brown would be great, too.” I rub my thumb along my chin. “Anything but an orange.”

“Never know. A little unpredictability might be good for you. Balance you out and all that.” A smile plays across his face.

“Zihnal, no.” I blanch and send a plea to the god of luck. “Fire and impulsivity shouldn’t mix.”

“Just remember that Zihnal doesn’t favor just those who need luck but those who accept his gifts without hesitation.

” Dad rotates a black bead on the bracelet he wears on his left wrist, then pulls it off and hands it to me.

“A dragon is surely the greatest gift a god can give, but I want you to have this.”

“You’ve worn this since…forever.” I slip the bracelet over my hand. It’s still warm from his body heat.

“And now it’s yours. I’ll feel better knowing you have a piece of me with you.”

“Thank you.” I twist the bracelet like I’ve seen him do thousands of times.

Another cadet shrieks to the south, deeper within the forest, and we both turn in that direction.

I swallow. Hard. “I have to go.”

“I love you, Brennan.” He pulls me into another hug, and I hold tight. “The next time I see you, you’ll be a rider,” he says, his tone calm as always. There’s no desperation in his embrace, no fear that this will be the last time we see each other tightening his grip.

“I will,” I promise. It’s the certainty in his voice, the reassurance that I’ll live through this day, that allows me to let go of him. Dad’s never been wrong about anything, and I’m not going to prove him fallible today. “I love you, too.”

“Don’t stress, Brennan. Enjoy today. Dragons love Sorrengails.” He walks away, disappearing into the trees with an ease that makes me wonder how many times he’s faded into other backgrounds of perilous situations in the name of his research.