Page 100 of Upon Buried Embers
I flip through the pages, the words blurring, but all colors of dragons are in here with sketches of them and what must be descriptions.
I run my finger over the black dragon that looks so much like Drogonah, I would be surprised if it wasn’t.
“This will tell you the dragon types, some of the information we know of them. Make sure to read it so when we arrive at The Games, you’re equipped with the knowledge of what kinds of dragons will be there.”
“I definitely need to know?” I look at him as he hands me a cup of water.
“Yes. The king chooses to put in a selection, but we don’t know whether we’re going against man, woman, dragon, or all.”
King Halen doesn’t play fair.
I swallow roughly. “I’ve never been to The Games.”
He eyes me. “Probably because they didn’t want you to be discovered. If King Halen knew an Elf was in Dracozar, he wouldn’t hesitate to take them.”
“Why?” What did we ever do?
“Because he wants your land and he would try to extract information.”
“I don’t know anything though.”
“It doesn’t matter. There’s a reason elves kill themselves rather than be taken to him.”
“They do?”
He nods.
“So it’s best to keep hidden, and you will start to train.”
I splutter. “Train?”
“Combat.”
I freeze, placing the cup on the table with a shaky hand. “I... I don’t fight.”
“I can tell.”
Embarrassment burns through me.
“I didn’t ask to be raised how I was!” His eyes flash to mine.
“You have fire, Elf. Someone just needs to breathe into it for it to ignite.”
I’m skin and bone, I have… nothing.
“You will train with Calian. I would usually have Kaldar, but as you have been around Calian, it would be better for you to train with someone you’re comfortable with.” I wouldn’t say I’m comfortable around him, his glare is scary. “And we’ll go to Bellamy to get you fitted with armor. Escor looks like he can shed some scales. If you ask his permission, Bellamy can craft them into your armor.”
“I’m not a fighter.”
“You’re a survivor,” the conviction in his tone makes my heart pound.
“They’re the same thing, they just look different.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask as he takes a thick piece of his hair and holds it out to me.
I begin to braid before I know it, easing into the familiar pattern.
“The eyes do not lie, no matter the words, the body.”
