Chapter 33
~ brEN ~
The late afternoon sun dappled Akhane’s wings where she stood under the trees, her long neck turned back to look at herself. Ronen stood next to me, watching her grimly.
“The grays struggle sometimes, because a dragons’ usual attitude is to make themselves visible—intimidation is their greatest weapon.
Seeing a phalanx of furies bear down on you in the night, flames roaring, sends most soldiers fleeing.
But the grays, and some of the blues and golds…
we want them to learn to blend as much as they can.
The light helps, of course,” he added with a shrug.
“When it gets darker, she’d seem much less visible.
But we can’t always be moving at night. We have to work on shrouding. ”
I nodded. I knew this was only Akhane’s beginning.
First, Ronen had introduced me to a senior gray who’d worked for years on shrouding.
By controlling the light under his scales, the male could lay down in the long grass and appear to be no more than a rise in the land, or slip between trees and virtually disappear.
But he was ancient. Akhane hadn’t worked on camouflaging before.
“How do I help her?” I asked him.
“Ask her to attempt to match the heat under her scales with the level of light through the leaves,” he said quietly. “Rather than the color.”
Of course, Akhane heard him without my intervention, but it was polite among the Furyknights that we didn’t address another rider’s dragon directly, except in an emergency.
Akhane blew out a breath and fluttered her wings slightly—then I saw it. A glimmer. The light under her scales, that pulsing heat that looked like the embers of a fire flickered at just the right level and for a few seconds, her form seemed to sink into the speckled light.
“Well done, Akhane!” I called, clapping.
Ronen nodded, smiling.
‘It is difficult to hold, Little Flame,’ Akhane sighed into my mind as the light under her scales rose and she was once again clearly a dragon under the trees. ‘As if it slips from my grasp.’
‘Ronen said it’s just practice. Don’t worry. You’re doing well!’
We spent another hour there, Ronen instructing Akhane to rise and lower the level of heat showing between her scales. “Just to get her used to the practice. Over time it will become second nature. But for now, she needs to watch herself and measure her surroundings.”
Then Voski joined us, and he had me mount—with Akhane unmoving, crouched under the massive trees, so I could learn how to position myself against her to interfere as little as possible in her appearance.
“Stealth is as much about movement and sound as how much heat Akhane shows under her scales,” he called up to me.
“Think about how your vision works—a shadow moving catches your attention from the corner of your eye. Light flickering will draw an eye, even miles away at night. Akhane needs to be able and willing to douse her flame entirely if it serves your purpose.”
Akhane tensed, and I frowned. “Douse her flame?”
“The light—that’s the heat her body holds to ignite her fire and fight infection in her body.
Grays in particular, but all dragons, have the capacity to douse that fire—she’d show no light at all under her scales.
But just like any other fire, it takes time and fuel to coax it back to life.
Dragons instinctively avoid dousing the flame, because fire is their primary protection for both themselves, and you.
We have to teach the stealth dragons to stifle that instinct. ”
I reached for Akhane through the bond—I could feel her reluctance. ‘Are you willing to try?’
It took her a moment to respond, which was unusual, and when she did, she sighed. ‘We are safe here. I’ll try.’
While Akhane fought her body, attempting to douse her flame, Voski circled us, assessing my posture and position on her back, helping me flatten effectively on her spine so that I appeared to be a part of her back, rather than sticking out between her wings.
“A dragon without a rider is considered less of a threat in most kingdoms,” he said, still circling Akhane and watching as the light under her scales retreated.
“The other nations have a lot more feral dragons than we do. In a real emergency, if you have to fly over enemy troops, drop your harness, lay along her spine, between her wings where you’re less likely to be seen from below, holding onto her spikes for security—those on the ground may accept that she’s merely a feral dragon, passing by, especially in low light. ”
I winced at the memory of my very first flight—in precisely that position—and what I knew of landing without a harness.
But I nodded and practiced leaning forward, resting my head against her withers and rounding my shoulders, letting my legs draw up between her wings so I could appear as part of the round of her spine.
But I was so busy working to keep my balance as I moved without knees hooked over her, I didn’t see—
“Well done, Akhane!” Voski said suddenly. “That’s it! Keep it up! Just let go—yes!”
I looked down and realized she’d done it—she’d stopped the heat and light under her scales, which somehow looked even more like the ash of a dead fire, gray shades rippling through her scales that ranged from nearly white, to almost black.
“Good job, Akhane!”
‘Thank you, Little Flame,’ she said, but her voice was tight, uneasy. I petted her neck and shoveled reassurance through the bond.
“We’re safe,” I whispered to her. “And you’re working on a way to make us even safer when we’re working, just remember that.”
‘Part of our purpose,’ Akhane sent breathlessly.
‘Yes, exactly.’
The light of the day was beginning to fade. Voski was thrilled that she’d been able to douse her flame.
“Fly!” he said quickly, jogging over to his goldscale, Kham. “Fly, and watch her as the sun dips behind the mountains—see how her scales disappear in the twilight without the light to make them glow. It’s humbling to watch.”
Gripping Akhane’s neck strap, I petted her neck and kept encouraging her through the bond as she ran and launched, her wings giving those powerful downflaps to get us off the ground, then soaring when we reached height.
The angle of the sun changed up here, and even though Akhane soared, barely flapping, wheeling high over the Keep, I could feel her unease.
‘He says the more you practice, the easier it will become,’ I sent to Akhane. The wind was cold with the sunlight disappearing. I didn’t usually notice it so much, but of course, she’d doused her flame.
Then Voski appeared at her side, showing us how Kham had learned to shroud, blending into the half-light high in the sky.
It was the strangest thing—not that the dragon became invisible, but that the light and shadow of him seemed to sink into his surroundings, so that if I wasn’t looking directly at him, he disappeared from my peripheral vision.
But then the light dropped further as the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and only its glow remained in the sky.
Voski directed Kham to fly at Akhane’s wingtip and called his instructions.
“You interfere as little as possible. Just relax and move with her—but watch. Watch her shroud—keep it up, Akhane!”
I felt a shiver in Akhane, as if she was cold. But there was a steely determination, as well.
She flew on, flapping little, wheeling and catching the air-currents, like the hawks when they hunted over the meadows.
“Watch for the timing—pay attention to the level of the sunlight. It will help you choose a time to fly, if you’re trying not to attract notice.”
I gave him the gesture to let him know I’d heard, then did as he said and watched, shaking my head in disbelief as, without the light under her scales, Akhane’s skin seemed to blend with the twilight.
If I looked straight down, past her shoulder, then she showed up more against the contrast of the ground and the shifting colors there, but when I lay on her back and looked up her neck, into the darkening sky ahead, she almost disappeared.
‘You’re doing so well, Akhane,’ I reassured her.
‘I do not like this, Bren.’
‘We’ll only do it if we’re hiding—and I don’t think we’ll be doing that on this mission. It’s something we need to practice. And hey, maybe one day we can sneak up on Voski and Kham!’
Akhane gave the little huff of laughter that I felt as a lightness in her heart, but I knew she was fighting her instincts, desperate to ignite that fire and warm her body again.
Soon, Voski, now a pale ghost in the darkening sky, wheeled off.
‘Kham sends that they’re returning to the Keep, and we should as well,’ Akhane said, relief heavy in her tone.
‘Perfect. Go ahead and ignite again,’ I said.
It took a minute or two, but before we reached the Keep, the underside of Akhane’s scales began to glow again.
The tension in her eased, and I felt a tiny knot unravel in the pit of my stomach, too.
“You did so well, Akhane. I know that was hard.”
‘Only because my body fights my mind,’ she answered wearily. ‘I know it is right and good for us to practice, Bren. You have my commitment to that.’
I sighed happily and leaned over her neck, hugging her as best I could. ‘I love you, Akhane, thank you.’
She tipped her head up and screamed into the night—and several dragons around the Keep responded. I smiled and rubbed her withers again. We were both tired. But I could barely wait to get back to training the next day. I finally felt like I was making progress. We were. Together.
And it was a very, very good feeling.