We were given a different set of clothes to put on for our inaugural dragon flight. The undertunic had strengthened pieces of cloth that would function something like a harness. The outer robes had extra openings for the harness connection points, and extra ties that fastened the robe to the ankle and wrists. And absolutely best of all, they weren’t in ‘target me now’ white. The staff member actually apologized for that – apparently, they were waiting on our exact sizes to make our custom outfits.


    After hustling us through changing and getting down to the landing platform, we came to a sudden halt. Assistant Oxenden slipped away to discover what was happening. Good instincts. I approved. After some muted conversations, he returned with the information.


    Assistant Oxenden said, “Minister Greenfield wants to send his assistant back to the capital. He says he has some important letters and matters to attend to.”


    “So what is the argument?” I asked.


    “Academy Leader Silver asked everyone to remain here until the investigation is complete. Minister Greenfield didn’t say anything at the time. It’s quite a snub to Academy Leader Silver to just go ahead like this.”


    “Couldn’t the dragon riders just say no, then?” I asked.


    “No one is very clear,” replied Assistant Oxenden. “Minister Greenfield’s position ordinarily allows him to request this kind of service from dragon riders, even if he wasn’t at the Academy. The church has an agreement and pays very well for it. The riders can defer a request if they are participating in matters vital to the safety of the state, but it’s hard to argue that this qualifies. I think the consensus is coming down on the side that Minister Greenfield does have the legal right to demand it. And it’s hardly like the assistant is any kind of suspect.”


    Might this be an excuse to consider Minister Greenfield’s behaviour suspicious, and demand a meeting? No, I decided after a moment’s consideration. That would hardly set the right tone for what I hoped to accomplish.


    “Are there no other long-distance methods of communication?” I asked. “Sending letters by dragon seems excessive.”


    “There’s the normal post,” replied Assistant Oxenden, “but that takes longer. There’s also craft-messaging, but that’s expensive. The longer the communication, the more it costs. People might afford to send a few words, but not pages.”


    Assistant Oxenden prediction came true. A dragon took off abruptly with the assistant, although I noticed that he was given what looked like a board to lie on, rather than wear any specialty robes. Minister Greenfield returned triumphantly back into the dormitory building without speaking to us.


    “Does that mean we’re one dragon short for our expedition?” I asked, with an eye to Lilianna.


    I was very impressed with her. In her place I might well have caught a sudden illness. But she was there, determined, if a little pale. Branneth, naturally, was so excited he was practically vibrating in place.


    “Oh no,” said Assistant Oxenden. “That team was unaffected. This is too important.”


    “Why, exactly?” I asked.


    “There’s a belief that having ridden with another dragon improves the chances of a successful bonding,” said Assistant Oxenden.  “The other candidates have all had at least one dragon ride, so it would be unfair if you haven’t.”


    I should have asked earlier. Lilianna and I could have caught the plague together. With no other choice, we joined the riders who would be escorting us. The dragon once again took me surprise by just how muscular it was. This one was a rainbow dragon, named for the variety of colours across the species, not an individual. The one I would be flying with was a brilliant cyan. The rider showed how he was going to attach my harness. I asked questions and then asked questions about all the other fittings. After getting permission, I crawled under the dragon to check them all. I knew enough to know that everyone needed to check their own ropes.


    <blockquote>


    His Devotion, Saint Percival the Investigator, was right to be suspicious. Failure of equipment was the leading cause of death for dragon riders in this period.


    </blockquote>


    After that, we were strapped in. A stomach dropping fall, and then we were in the air. The beating of the wings felt like heartbeats throughout my body. And then a thing I had not been expecting.


    I adored it.


    It was everything I had imagined flying would be when I was a child. Just me floating above the ground. I instantly craved more control. I wanted to be the one directing the dragon and doing battle with the winds and the thermals and the lifts. I wanted the pure freedom of the air, going wherever I wanted, turning and twisting as I pleased. I finally understood the cliché of just me, the dragon and the sky. The bulk of the dragon was like a furnace, keeping the immediate air warm. I speculated there was other magic as well. The wind against my face was on the pleasant side of brisk, and I had no symptoms of high-altitude sickness. On top of that, the view was magnificent. The sharp peaks rose out of the mist, and spires flowed down. Some were even larger whirlpools of golden flakes, dancing and spinning. This was what magic was meant to be.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    But by the time we arrived at the next spire over, some quarter of an hour later, the thrill had begun to wear off. My neck and back ached, and the harness was digging into me in uncomfortable ways. Lilianna collapsed down on the ground, clutching the plants on either side with both hands. The riders made a few good-natured comments, but didn’t find her reaction to be too unusual. Was air-sickness a thing? It probably was.


    The spire itself was similar to the one at the academy. I could see where the original overflow had scoured paths into the cliff sides. The larger one now had a small trickle travelling down it, glinting and shimmering less and less intensely until it disappeared under the plant growth. The smaller one was browning with dead plants. It didn’t take much orientation to figure out which one led to the Cammion’s side, and which to their own. The air was full of the sounds of foraging creatures and the heavy smell of ripe fruit. Insects darted back and forth on the edges of the downflow, themselves iridescent darting lights, and birds dove through the swarm in turn. Braving the chaos, we swapped out glowing stones with dull ones. With the rest of us working, it didn’t take us long. Then we were back in the air again, another mixture of awe and discomfort.


    When we were almost back, I ask my ‘pilot’ if we can circle the grounds. It involved more hand gestures than shouted words, but he cheerfully agreed. The situation didn’t exactly allow for an in-depth analysis of my motives anyway. My first hope was a failure. If there was a road or a cart-track, I couldn’t see it. I dropped to my second choice and looked for the new wall of the old section. Or more accurately – the ‘dry riverbed’. That was better. I couldn’t be entirely sure, but it was looking good. It headed smoothly in the direction of the Cammions.


    We were about to swing around to the platform again when I saw movement a little distance down from the Academy. Something that looked almost like fire. After a few moments, I realised it was an orange and yellow patterned dragon, seeming to be struggling to move. A hero of any reputation could hardly just leave an animal to suffer that way, so I had no choice but to alert the pilot and land close by.


    <blockquote>


    Considering that, by the very account of His Devotion, Saint Percival the Investigator, himself, the pilot hadn’t even noticed the trapped dragon, I find the stated motivations less than convincing.


    </blockquote>


    The pilot had to stay with his own dragon, so I went on alone. The victim was about half the size of an adult dragon, so it should still me manageable alone. Once I was close enough, the problem was easy to spot. Some twine or rope had become entangled around a leg, and the dragon’s movements was pulling it tighter rather than releasing it. After a few pats did nothing to calm the dragon, so I tried speed instead. I reached down to detangle the rope. A second later I mentally apologised to Candidate Shanelly for forgetting her valuable advice about watching for the tails instead of bites. The tail-whip slammed into my arm and across my back. It rocked me sidewise a few steps. I breathed deeply to stop myself from swearing. With considerably more caution, I went back for a second attempt. That was more successful. The instant it was free, the dragon took off into the undergrowth. Ungrateful little monster. I worked my hand and tried rotating my arm. It hurt, but nothing seemed to be broken or dislocated. I untied the rope and brought it back to ‘my’ pilot.


    “Is this a common hazard?” I asked.


    “We used to have groundsmen,” he said apologetically. “But the Academy expanded and our funds didn’t. I don’t know how Minister Greenfield has the audacity to come here like his group hasn’t been fighting to cut off all funds from us.”


    Minister Greenfield had an entire group. An entire group that was pretty successful, by the sounds of it. The dragon riders were not a powerful enough alliance to stand up to it.


    “Will the dragon be alright, unsupervised?” I asked.


    “That’s not one of ours,” said the pilot. “Too small.”


    “A wild dragon?” I asked, faking casualness.


    Were there wild dragons? Why didn’t anyone warn me about wild dragons! I thought it was a juvenile, not an adult of an entirely different species. I wouldn’t have risked interfering if I’d known. Wait, did I just risk major injury? Had I gotten lucky to only get that tail-whip?


    “Probably a half-breed, with that colouring,” said the pilot, not seeming to notice my growing panic.


    Good to know. I let him take us back to the academy while I contemplated my near-death experience. The outing had been a revelation in more ways than one.


    <table style="width: 90.0081%">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="510">


    Memo to Self


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="510">


    Stuff to avoid


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="510">


    · Becoming a dragon rider Joining the official dragon rider forces


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="510">


    Information gathering


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="510">


    · Find out about alternative occupations and opportunities


    · - Speak to Minister Greenfield in private


    · - - Find out when he is due to leave before he leaves in four days


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    · Investigate other countries and cultures to see if they’re a better fit


    · - Determine just how far heroic independence goes


    · - - Legally, very far: complete diplomatic immunity


    · - - Practically: assistance can be withdrawn


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    · Track down itinerary [no point]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="510">


    Opportunities


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="510">


    · Sneak out when harvesting night flowers [7 6 days]


    · - Walk out down dry river bed towards Cammions


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="510">


    Preparations


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="510">


    · Beg, borrow or steal clothes of a different colour


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="510">


    · Delay the bonding ceremony as much as possible


    · - Extend investigation


    · - Imply maximum psychic pollution


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>