Chapter 24 Kailin
KAILIN
The ashes are barely cold, yet here we are, gathering at the foot of Mount Hope as if yesterday's tragedy was just a bad dream. Seven souls have barely begun their journey to Dolis, and we're already starting ours up the mountain.
It feels wrong, but that's how life is.
Mortals mourn their dead and keep going because what other choice do they have?
—From the journal of Kailin Strom
Shovia and I had gotten to the clearing early, so we had seen the dragons arrive and take positions on the lower slope of Mount Hope. It had been a magnificent display of raw power, inspiring awe and fear in equal amounts.
We sat on our packs, both to keep the seats of our pants dry from the morning dew and to have a good view of the dragons.
The massive creatures were too far away to make out details, but my gaze kept being drawn to the obsidian dragon on the leftmost outcropping.
Something about its size and the way it held itself reminded me of the one that had landed in front of our watchtower five years ago.
My heart accelerated at the memory of those molten gold eyes and the dark-eyed rider who had saluted me.
Even now, years later, the mere thought of him made my breath hitch, which was ridiculous because I had been sixteen and terrified at the time, and there was no way the interaction had been as charged as my teenage brain had made it out to be.
Besides, why was I thinking about that rider when Alar's piercing blue eyes and strong hands had featured so prominently in my recent dreams?
"Do you think Dylon is up there?" Shovia squinted at the dragons.
I shook my head. "I can't make out details from here, but I doubt it. He's a squadron commander now, usually patrolling the border. Other squadrons are in charge of keeping the pilgrimage safe."
She nodded and kept gaping.
We were both mesmerized by the dragons, probably like everyone else gathered in the clearing, and I had to wonder how many of the other pilgrims were experiencing panic right now.
Did any of them fear heights? Or were they just terrified of the giant creatures who breathed fire and thought of humans as food?
Not that I knew for a fact that dragons ate humans. We were probably too scrawny for them. They preferred goats and sheep that had a lot of meat and fat on them.
Nevertheless, imagining sitting astride one of them made me sweat despite the morning chill.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and started my meditation routine. "I am grounded," I whispered. "The soil holds me steady. The mountain supports my weight. There is nothing to fear..."
"You know," Shovia interrupted, "talking to yourself isn't going to help convince the shaman that you're fit to be a rider."
I cracked open one eye to glare at her. "I'm trying not to hyperventilate. Would you prefer that?"
"I'd prefer you stop assuming you're going to be chosen. The odds are—"
"Hello, ladies," Alar's voice interrupted what was sure to become one of Shovia's tirades.
As I opened both eyes, I found him and Codric standing in front of us, looking like they hadn't slept a wink. "You two look terrible," I said.
"Thanks." Codric dropped his pack on the ground beside Shovia and sat on top of it. "That's exactly what a man wants to hear from a beautiful woman first thing in the morning."
He thought I was beautiful?
It shouldn't make me feel so self-conscious. It was probably a figure of speech, something that Elurian gentlemen said to all ladies.
"Shovia and I didn't get much sleep either," I said without commenting on his compliment. "There wasn't much time left after the funerals."
"We are all drakked," Shovia declared. "How are we going to make it through a whole day of trekking on an empty stomach and with hardly any sleep?"
Alar settled beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "We'll manage. The tea your grandmother gave us is a miracle brew."
Before I could respond, Morek appeared, forcefully dropping his pack next to us, his usually handsome face twisted into a scowl.
"Let me guess," I said. "You are grumpy because you didn't get any sleep either?"
"Yes, but not just that." He jerked his chin toward a group of pilgrims several yards away. "Look at Erona, being all smiles for that Podanan rich boy."
I followed his gaze to where Erona, who looked like a television star even in standard-issue fatigues, stood close to a tall, dark-haired pilgrim. She laughed at something he said while touching his arm with her long, elegant fingers that were topped with manicured nails.
She was definitely flirting with the guy.
"Oh, for Elu's sake," Shovia muttered. "What makes you think he is rich? Because he's confident? Just go talk to her already. This pining from afar is getting old."
While Morek launched into what was sure to be a lengthy explanation of why he couldn't possibly do that, Alar leaned closer to me. "How did Chicha react to you leaving?"
The question caught me off guard, and I felt a lump form in my throat. "She wasn't happy to see me go, but I'll see her in seven days when I come down the mountain."
"You have so very little faith in yourself," he said with a mock stern look. "What the mind believes, it achieves."
I smiled. "Is that an Elurian proverb?"
"No, but it should be. In plain language, it refers to the power of conviction."
"Conviction is not always a good thing as evidenced by the Shedun."
"True." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and shifted his gaze to the dragons. "That's why it's so important to always search for truth. Convictions that are based on lies are extremely dangerous."
I wanted to respond that finding the truth was difficult because we all had our prejudices, but a massive beat of wings put a stop to our conversation.
All eyes turned skyward as Saphir's dragon appeared, her scales a beautiful shade of blue. She was enormous—probably the largest dragonia ever to soar over the Elucian Mountains.
I'd only seen Saphir and his dragon on televised events and never in person, and Nyxath was probably the most impressive dragonia on this mountain.
As the crowd burst into applause and cheers, Alar and Codric joined in the applause while gaping.
"By Elurion," Alar breathed. "She's beautiful." He turned to me. "Do you know her name?"
"Nyxath," I said.
In my opinion, all dragon faces were ugly, but their eyes were beautiful and wise, and their scales were their most striking feature.
Nyxath's scales caught the light like perfectly cut sapphires, and she moved not just to traverse space but to leave an impression.
Like Saphir, his dragonia was a performer.
He sat easily on her back, his white robes whipping in the wind of her wings as she circled once before beginning her descent.
The ground trembled slightly as she landed, and I grabbed Alar's arm without thinking. He covered my hand with his, squeezing gently.
The dragonia had landed with surprising delicacy and grace for her size, mindful of the crowd gathered below, and as Saphir dismounted, he did it with the ease of a young man, not someone whose true age no one knew.
The bond with his dragonia extended his life indefinitely, and he had been choosing riders for longer than anyone could remember.
The only sign of his age was the whiteness of his hair and beard, which seemed to glow in the aurora's light.
On second thought, his eyes betrayed his age as well, holding wisdom that had been earned through centuries in the service of Elu.