Page 9 of Flameborne: Chosen
Ruin had told me about this place.
It was from this point of land that the Furyknights took their first flights. Newly ChosenFlameborne—the title given to the men who’d been selected by a dragon, but hadn’t yet passed the trials—climbed the same, steep trail I had taken to meet their dragons right at this spot. The strong coastal winds combined with the two hundred foot drop allowed the dragons to ease into their rider’s first flight without the powerful run and launch needed for them to get airborne when a Flameborne hadn’t yet developed the strength and skill to remain seated.
Ruin had told me how chilling that first take off had been, buckled to his dragon’s neck strap as Carnage perched on the edge of the cliff, opened his wings, and tipped into the air. Ruin said they dropped like stones, falling long enough that his heart left his chest and his mind screameddeath was upon him—until the dragon’s wings caught the airflows and snapped taut.
He said that first moment his dragon caught the updraft was so jarring, he’d snapped forward at the waist. His dragon had warned him to lean to the side, but Ruin had been so nervous and distracted he’d forgotten. When their trajectory shifted, his face slammed straight into the broad plane of his dragon’s scaled neck and bloodied his nose.
He’d been lucky he was strapped on because he was stunned by the blow and would have fallen onto the fang-rocks, or dropped like a stone into that churning sea below and died. He’d trembled as he told me the story, apologizing for his fear.
And I held him.Comforted him.
The whole story had only made him bigger in my mind. More heroic. But now, standing here… The world tilted every time I looked over the edge. Even when I looked aside and followed the line of the cliffs all the way along, out to the spit of land that encroached on the sea like a thrust sword.
Death. The Dragonmaw Cliffs were death to those not strapped to a dragon.
“Any man would perish in a plunge from that height, Bren,” Ruin told me grimly. “At that speed, the water is no more forgiving than rock. And the dragons won’t save a rider who’s stupid enough to get himself killed that way. He’d never survive the rest of training.”
Any man would perish in that fall.
Ruin, Ruin, Ruin…
Curse my mind that would not stop conjuring him!
The plunge from this cliff wasn’t the only thing I couldn’t survive.
Curling my toes inside my dirty shoes, I crept closer to that edge. The mid-morning light narrowed, the edges of my vision going dark as the wind gusted again, trying to push me back.
My heart galloped.
A far-off dragon’s scream rode the wind. I instinctively looked up.
In the distance, several dragons wheeled, riding the currents of air up into the clouds, only to tuck their wings, roll slowly, then drop in a blood-curdling dive towards the earth before snapping their wings wide and gliding easily back towards the sea with a serpentine grace that belied the bulk and weight that pinned them to the earth when they weren’t flying.
The bunch were too far away to make out their colors, or whether riders clung to their backs. But for a long breath I let myself watch, thanking God that this was the last image in my mind: His servants. His warriors. His wisdom incarnate.
Dragonfuries.
More screams pierced the wind, probably the dragons calling for their brothers who’d begun the journey, like Ruin and Carnage—
A sob broke in my throat. I tore my eyes from the beautiful, far away dragons and made myself look down.
No.
I grimaced. My heart raced to beat out of my ribs, but I pushed myself forward, inch by bare inch until the earth crumbled under my toes and I could see the froth of the waves slamming against the Dragon Fang rocks beneath me. The earth listed to the right again, and my heart soared in my chest. But I froze. And then I looked down at myself.
Dirty. Broken.Ruined.Worthless.
And cowardly, even now.
My heart beat so fast in my chest it seemed moths fluttered inside my ribs.
I closed my eyes, squeezing them tightly against the wind, and the tears, and the sight.
Perhaps if I didn’t look?
I lifted one foot, reminding myself that it would be quick. Mere seconds. A far more humane end than walking the streets until I was infected, or murdered, or—
No!
