Page 3 of Forcing Fate

With that came the burden of my mother not being able to support a growing child. Our King had set a decree that when a soldier died in service, his children, and widow were provided for by the kingdom. It wasn’t always easy, nor was it perfect, but it helped.

I was sent to one of the King’s schools, Northwing, when I was nearing five-winters old. Here, the elders cared for the little ones. They oversaw my education, discipline, and training, and made sure all students were provided for. My mother received the relief she needed to get by, and with her baking, she had enough funds to visit me twice a year.

My stomach rumbled its protests of my fast as I glanced at the basket on top of the small table beside my cot. A white linen cloth hid the baked sweets beneath. Mother always brought me treats when she visited. If I still lived with her, my slight frame would have far more weight to it.

I took a deep breath and picked up the brush, resuming my attempt to smooth out the knots from my restless night of tossing and turning. If she were here, Mother would assure me that this was nothing to be worried about, that it would all be just fine. The rational part of me agreed, but one could not be calm on Hatching Day—especially one of the Chosen.

As I divided sections to plait my hair, my thoughts wandered to the history of Hatching Day. Over a thousand years ago, the War of Dragons and Men devastated the land. It was a bloody, unorganized affair of men hunting dragons in groups of militia, and the great beasts laying waste to entire cities in a single day. The fighting was endless, going back as far as our recorded history. Until a man, Zylan, found an orphaned hatchling. He connected with it, creating a magical bond.

The two understood each other to an unprecedented degree. Their thoughts were as one. They communicated on a rational level—and for the first time, man realized the great beasts were more than violent monsters. They had a conscience, a sentience. Together, they brought peace to the land, and through blood-magic formed the treaty still used on this very day. With the alliance came the Dragon Men—humans trained in fairness and battle, who fought for peace, vowing to never shed meaningless blood.

Throughout the years, the dragons slowly diminished to only lay the clutches to be raised by the Dragon Men. In the first years under the treaty, the Dragon Men were given eggs from the dragons themselves, as none of the eggs laid prior were bound by the treaty.

In the Dragon Men’s care, the eggs determined the number of Dragon Men selected from the schools that would be Chosen. Because of the treaty, hatchlings never refused a chosen Rider. Until twenty-five years ago.

That fateful day, the first Wild Dragon was born in over five hundred years. It had no bond with any of the Chosen. It was a feral thing, unwilling to be tamed. Legend says a year after its hatching, it flew off, never to be seen again.

Every so often, another would hatch—the most recent being four summers ago. I was twelve then, not yet old enough to be a Chosen One myself, but I remember the slate-blue hatchling with silver eyes. It was wild and ferocious, attacking a Rider before another dragon swooped from the rooftop, taking it away.

Wild Ones spent their first year growing under the care of elder dragons, then in the night, they would disappear, never to be seen again. The Masters never tried to contain them, for they had the potential to grow into fierce fighters. No one wanted monsters chained to the schools.

Things amongst Dragon Kind changed since that first Wild One. Now, not only did the First Chosen sit in a circle around the eggs, but a larger circle of Second Chosen surrounded them. There were two Second Chosen for every First Chosen. The Masters theorized this gave the hatchlings more options to choose from and less reason to refuse the bond.

No members of Dragon Kind had any idea as to why some were wild. The breeding was the same every year. The blood-magic binding Dragon Men and dragons was still as strong as ever. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to which would be wild or why.

I secured my braid with a leather cord and tossed it over my shoulder. Once again, I examined myself in the mirror, wishing I could hide the worry etched in my expression. As First Chosen, I would sit in the ring closest to the eggs. I wondered what dragon would hatch for me—if a dragon would hatch for me.

No.

With a firm shake of my head, I closed my eyes.

I had worked hard for this. My father died fighting the Shadow Men. As his daughter, I refused to let his sacrifice be for naught. I owed this to him, to myself. I would be a Rider and continue my father’s fight, protecting our lands.

A dragon would hatch for me today. It would.

As the youngest of the Chosen, I proved myself with high marks in my schooling. The Record Rooms were practically my second home. I had no friends, no distractions. This day was the sum of my life’s purpose. Everything would be fine.

Opening my eyes, I stared at the terrified girl in the mirror.

“It will be fine.”

My boots scuffed against the cobblestone path that winded through Northwing’s grounds as I made my way to the amphitheater. My stomach continued its threats to eject all non-existent food. I smoothed my simple gray dress for the umpteenth time. Peeking under my lashes at the other students, I spotted another First Chosen, Ruger.

At nineteen-winters old, he was tall and built like a warrior. He would grow into a fine Rider, yet even he seemed nervous. One of his friends clapped him on the back with a wide grin, saying something I couldn’t hear. Ruger’s worried frown broke into a smile as he punched his companion on the arm.

I dropped my gaze to my feet as I kept walking. Even after living here for so long, I had never made any friends. It wasn’t for the lack of people trying. I simply had too much to study, too much to learn. I didn’t have time for meaningless chats or hanging about with my peers.

Besides, the only thing girls wanted to talk about was boys—who had the best hair, the cutest smile. My nose wrinkled at the thought. Immature, smelly bullies were more like it. All of them behaved as if they were in an endless game of ‘Who can do the stupidest things to prove some level of masculinity?’ I shuddered. They called me an old hag, and that was the lot I accepted in life.

The amphitheater offered a cool reprieve as I stepped into its shadow. The structure was massive, seating over three thousand. Even with the immense space, people crammed in and stood wherever they could to glimpse the day’s main event.

Giant wings blotted out the sun as an enormous black dragon coasted to a stop on the rooftop. Its claws scraped the tiles, shattering a few before it settled on its perch. It craned its long neck to peer at the eggs far below.

My nails bit into my palms as I clenched my fists in determination.

It would be fine. This is what I was here for. Once the day was over, the rest of my life would begin. I would avenge my father and continue his mission to banish the Shadows.

Trailing a distance behind Ruger, I paused as he said a final farewell to his friend. When his companion walked away, I offered a small smile as he held the door for me to enter.

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