Page 13 of Court of Rivals
A few of our dragons cling to the walls that surround the practice yard, watching the fight beneath with hooded lids. Our dragons find us mildly interesting, at least enough so that they don’t toss us from their backs while we ride them. They care enough not to let us die, but to step in when we’re being hurt? Not so much. Our problems are our own concerns.
Overhead more of our dragons circle the academy grounds, but also fly all over Elarwyn, our great city. The academy hugs the side of a cliff that drops down into a dangerous ocean far below. In front of us, the academy connects to the castle, and beyond that to the great city. To our sides are woods that press in around Stormwrath Academy and the city. It’s the most beautiful place on earth. And the perfect place to be training dragons.
Lucien is about to knock out one of Alaric’s teeth when the dragons suddenly go mad, flapping, making strange noises that fill the air. I freeze and watch as the dragons on the castle walls launch into the air. Squawking sounds fill the air, a sound I’ve never heard them make before. Everything inside me tenses, and I reach out to Sylvara, my dragon, through my mind.
What is it? What’s the matter?
But she ignores me, as she often does. Dragons tend to treat all information like it’s on a need to know basis, and, apparently, I don’t need to know this.
I rise from the castle wall and race down until I reach the practice yard. The fight has long-since finished, because this new chaos is far more interesting. The men are all standing around in the dirt, probably calling to their dragons, wondering why the hell they’re all flying around frantically making such strange noises.
“Have any of your dragons said a word?” I ask, my tone as sharp as my gaze on the sky.
“No,” I hear from a few of them, quickly echoed by the others.
Lucien combs his fingers through his long blond hair, his blue eyes full of worry even as he says, “Are they all constipated? Do dragons get constipated?”
“This isn’t funny,” Alaric says on my other side. “Something’s wrong. We should tell father.”
I glance down at my brother in annoyance. At six-two, Alaric is hardly a shrimp, but he is compared to me. From his neatly trimmed brown hair, to his well-cared-for brown-leathers, he screams “rule follower” in every way possible. One of his many irritating traits.
“Right now there’s nothing to tell father. Just a bunch of dragons being dragons.”
“Surely this is more than that?” Alaria challenges, his brown eyes locking onto me.
“Doesn’t look like it,” I tell him shortly.
I’m about ready to head in and find something more to eat when my gaze catches something dark in the sky. Every muscle in my body tenses, and I wonder if it’s a bone wyrm. It’s been many years since one was stupid enough to get this close to Elarwyn, but things could get messy fast if we don’t launch into action.
Except… none of the dragons prepare for battle. None of them rush to get their riders on. They just continue circling and squawking as the unknown, dark creature grows closer.
“There’s something out there,” Lucien says softly.
“A bone wyrm?” Alaric asks.
“The dragons would react to that,” I snap.
Still, the creature draws closer at an alarming rate. Closer and closer. Some of the dragon riders move back under the protection of the castle walls, others just continue to point and stare, but all of us watch with growing concern as it draws closer.
“It’s a dragon, but I don’t think it’s one of ours!” Alaric shouts, sounding shocked.
“It’s too big to be a dragon,” Lucien murmurs.
“Too big to be a dragon?” I snort. “Nothing’s bigger than a dragon.”
Still… it does look bigger. And it does look to be a dragon.
“Call your dragons to you,” I command, realizing that whatever it is it’s heading straight for us.
Sylvara, it’s time to ride!I shout into her mind.
There’s no response back.
Sylvara!
Still, nothing.
“Our dragons aren’t responding. There’s something wrong with them,” someone says.
