Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Aotrom stiffens, then lets out a chortle.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you can find some snow up in the peaks to help harden it so it chips away. Ice will do the trick.” I can’t help but laugh again, even knowing I’ve got maybe sixty seconds at this precarious angle before muscle fatigue causes me to fall to my death. “I’d say this calls us even, wouldn’t you?”
“Never.” He lunges from the tree, straight into the sky, taking me completely off guard, though I keep my seat. “But I would say it makes us equals.”
633 AU
Deigh—Red Daggertail
(Male) Descended from the Wybjorian Line
Estimated Age: 62
Recorded Riders: 1
—The Compendium of Dragonkind,
last updated by Colonel Valin Kaori
Liam
Wood curls at the edge of my father’s penknife, then falls to the forest floor as I finish the pull stroke along what will become the future figurine’s left horn. I didn’t quite nail the pattern from Kaori’s cards on either of my last two attempts, so I’ll leave them rough for now.
By the end of the day, I’ll be able to do all of him justice.
For the third time in the last hour, someone screams in the distance. I stop carving and look up from my piece. None of the trees around me move, and once I’m sure whatever danger has found my nameless year-mate isn’t headed in my direction, I get to work again. Unlike the rest of my squadmates, fear didn’t plague me while walking into the forest, and the only anxiety I feel revolves around whether or not the other marked ones in my year survive the day. My squadmates, too. Most of them are all right.
I’ve been out here near the center of the valley for a couple of hours, led by an undeniable tug that was replaced by an instinct to sit tight the moment I reached this tree. So I’m sitting tight under the shade of a sprawling Polylepis tree, because who am I to deny the first request my future dragon has made of me? Reds have tempers. I have patience. We’ll be a good match. The Polylepis tree is pretty ironic, though. I haven’t seen one since leaving Tyrrendor.
My thumb presses against the flat edge of my knife’s blade as I start on the second horn, taking it slow like Dad taught me. The dappled shade on the ground to my right moves opposite to the breeze, and a corner of my mouth lifts.
“Going to have to get better than that to sneak up on me.” I finish the stop cut, and another shaving falls to the ground. “I’ve been trained by the best, you know.”
“If I was trying to sneak, you’d never know it.” Xaden walks out from behind a nearby tree, a smile making a brief and rare appearance on his face. “Because yes, I am the best,” he says with the casual arrogance he presents to the majority of the world.
As the most powerful rider of our generation, he’s more than earned the arrogance and the fear he incites in every cadet who doesn’t wear a rebellion relic on their arm. But not only do I possess said relic, I know him better than most people. We spent the darkest days of our lives together, learning to survive as foster brothers after our parents were executed in Calldyr. I respect the hell out of him and love him like a brother. I’ve never been scared of him.
“Is this your Threshing plan?” He leans back against the trunk beside me and glances at the dragon emerging from the chunk of balsa wood in my hand. “Linger under a tree and hope the first dragon that comes across you is yours? I have to say, you didn’t choose a particularly secure location to break out the arts and crafts.” His eyes all but roll in my direction.
“I’m lingering exactly where I was told to. My dragon will find me.”
“Everyone I’ve observed so far is running around out there getting into fights, bonding, or becoming scorch marks, and you’re whittling.”
“Is my wingleader disappointed in me?” I grin and return to carving the horns.
“Never. I respect your tranquility.” He grimaces. “Scratch that. I will be disappointed if you get burned alive by some disgruntled orange because you can’t be bothered to hold a more defensible position. But I checked the list of willing dragons, and none of them this year had riders killed in the apostasy, so you shouldn’t have any seeking you out personally. If you get roasted, it won’t be a revenge kill.”
My eyebrows rise. That was a scenario I hadn’t thought about. Our parents’ rebellion took out more than a few riders. “Do you check every year?”
Xaden nods as he scans our surroundings. I swear, he never lets his guard down, but I get it. Countless riders would love to be known as the one who killed Fen Riorson’s son. “Bodhi will still be here to help, but you’ll need to take over that duty once I graduate in July.”