From where Alannis sat hundreds of feet in the air, Mistfall looked like a tiny island in the middle of a roaring, white foam river. Perched high above, she gazed out at the dark gray mountaintops, their slopes a lush tapestry of vibrant green grass and moss.
It was only the second time she’d taken her dragon Zyndra out in the past year, and she had forgotten how much she loved flying until this moment. It was exhilarating. She had wanted to be a dragon rider her whole life. And this was why: the thrill of flight combined with getting to see the world in a way few people have the opportunity to.
Alannis gave Zyndra a gentle nudge on her right side, lightly pressing her brown leather boots into the dragon's dark green hide.
Zyndra's response was immediate.
She nose-dived toward the rapids below. The wind roared in Alannis’s ears and orange-red strands of hair tore free from her braid as she and her dragon rushed toward the dark blue water. Just before the tip of Zyndra's nose met the water, the dragon straightened her body, flying parallel to the river, so close that Alannis could touch the water if she leaned over.
Alannis pulled the reins to the left, and Zyndra turned, taking them behind one of the surrounding waterfalls coming down from the mountains that are now high above them. The falling water was all Alannis could hear as the mist sprayed her and Zyndra. They emerged from behind the waterfall, and Alannis pulled the reins up. Zyndra obeyed her rider’s silent command, and they were back in the sky.
Once they were too high for Alannis to hear the roar of the racing water below, she pulled back on Zyndra's reins. Zyndra came to a stop. In the sky, all Alannis could hear was the leathery boom of Zyndra’s massive wings as she flapped them to keep the two of them in the air.
That, and the constant ringing in Alannis's ears—a reminder of the Soleisillan attack on her unit in the Charaveran jungle a year ago. The healers said it may go away with time
So far, it hadn’t.
The thought of the attack made Alannis’s mouth go dry, and her chest grew tight. She closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth in an attempt to calm herself. It didn’t work, so she tried again.
In, two, three, four.
Hold, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
It was too late, though, and just like that, Alannis fell apart.
Alannis’s heart pounded in her chest as though it was trying to fight its way out of her body. Her breathing became shallow and rapid as she struggled to draw in a full breath.
Alannis didn’t need to tell Zyndra to land; The Dragon sensed the change in her emotions and glided down to the nearest plateaued mountain top. She landed in the grass, and Alannis slid out of the saddle, unable to stop the shaking that racked her whole body.
Alannis’s fingers dug into the soft grass. She tried to focus on the texture of the grass, on the dew that wet her hands. She tried to focus on the sound of rushing water. She tried to focus on anything other than the images of her fellow soldiers dying in the burning jungle.
It didn’t help. No matter what she tried, the images from that night were all Alannis could see. The smell of smoke and burning flesh still lingered in her mind. She heard the screams and scraping of metal on metal as if her unit was still fighting for their lives next to her at this very moment.
Only three members of Alannis’s unit—herself included—survived the attack.
The seven others were dead, and it was all her fault.
Zyndra let out a low groan of concern. Her dark green snout—close to three times the length of Alannis’s body—pressed against her back.
Alannis wrapped her arms around the dragon’s snout as she tried to assure her in Grenvellish—her native language. “I’m fine.” Her voice shook, though. She tried again. “I’m fine.”
It’s a lie, though. And even though Alannis wasn’t sure if Zyndra understood the concept of lies, she thought the dragon knew the truth.
Zyndra curled her giant, scaled body around Alannis and let Alannis cry for as long as she needed to.
“Attack!” Commander Illadiya Okenwje’s shouts echoed off the stone walls.
In response, twelve pairs of boots stomped against the stone floors. The clash of metal against metal echoed through the room.
“Retreat!”
The members of Illadiya’s unit backed away from each other, forming two lines of six people facing each other.
“Attack!” Illadiya yelled again.
The members of Illadiya’s unit lunged for each other, weapons clashing against each other.
Before she could tell them to retreat, a voice called, “Excuse me, Commander Okenwje?” Illadiya turned toward the door, where a messenger stood. He told her, “I’ve been asked to bring you to speak with the captain.”
The captain? Illadiya wasn’t sure what he could want, but very well. She turned back to her unit. “Break!” She called. “Be prepared to show me your defense stances when I return.”
Illadiya followed the messenger through the halls of the aviary, where all the dragon riders trained, and into the captain’s office.
When the messenger knocked on the door, the captain’s gruff voice called, “Who is it?”
“I’ve brought Commander Okenwje to speak with you, sir,” the messenger answered through the door.
“Let her in.”
The messenger opened the door for Illadiya, who walked into the office. The door closed behind her as the captain, who was scanning his bookshelves, turned to face her. “Commander Okenwje,” he said, “I have a special project for you.”
“Oh,” Illadiya said coolly. Despite her nonchalant tone, she was excited—of course she was. She loved a new challenge. But dragon riders weren’t meant to show their emotions.
“It’s not my project exactly, but I have been asked for reccommendations and I think you are best suited for the task.”
“What task is that?”
“The royal dragon breeder of Starev has died in the Sunatian palace. The Empress Serafine’s daughter-in-law, Princess Yelene, suspects foul play.”
Princess Yelene. Illadiya searched her memory for the name. Yelene was not a name common in Sunait, but it was a name common in Starev. “Princess Yelene thinks the breeder was murdered?” Illadiya clarified.
“Yes.”
Illadiya was unsure what to say. She wasn’t sure what this had to do with her.
Luckily, the captain explained without Illadiya having to ask him to. “At the request of Empress Serafine, The Council is sending two members of the military to investigate.”
Illadiya’s forehead creased in confusion. She’d never heard of something like this before. Of course, murders happened, but if nobody was there to witness the crime or if the murderer didn’t come forward to confess, nothing could be done. “I’m sorry it happened,” Illadiya said, “but I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”
“The Council asked me to select the two soldiers who will investigate. You are one of the soldiers I have chosen. I believe your ability to speak three languages, as well as your attention to detail, makes you the perfect candidate for this investigation.”
“I’m honored that you thought of me, sir,” Illadiya said honestly, “but my unit—”
“Will be commanded by a lieutenant until your return.”
As intriguing as this all was, Illadiya wasn’t sure that she wanted to leave her station—leave Mistfall—at the moment, but as a dragon rider, she didn’t have a choice. This was what she signed up for: to go where she was told when she was told. “How long will I be gone?”
“There’s no set timeline,” the captain answered. “Once you determine if there was a murder, and who the murderer is, you will be allowed to return here.”
“And who is the other soldier you’ve chosen, if I may ask?”
“Commander Cresswood.”
“Commander Cresswood? Is—has she returned to duty?”
“No, but we’re hoping she can be convinced to come out of hiatus for this case.”
Illadiya didn’t just know Commander Cresswood, she considered Commander Cresswood her rival. They had enrolled in the military at the same time ten years ago, and had spent all their time in training fighting to be at the top of their class.
The captain gave Illadiya a look. “Will that be a problem?”
“No, sir.” Illadiya forced a smile. “No problem at all.”
By the time Zyndra and Alannis returned to the aviary, the sun had begun to disappear behind the mountains that surrounded Mistfall.
Zyndra landed in a large patch of dark brown dirt outside the glass building that held almost a hundred dragons and bellowed in excitement at the shadows of the dragons through the fogged-up glass.
Four dragon handlers rushed out of the building, wearing gray rain cloaks over their uniforms despite the sunny day. It was common among people who spent a lot of time near the edge of the city, since that was where the mist from the waterfalls was heaviest.
Mistfall got its name from the mist created by the waterfalls that surrounded the city, which sat on a circular platform just twenty feet above the river. The mist covered the entire city in condensation.
The aviary where Alannis was now was close enough to the edge of the city that the waterfalls and the rushing river were enough to drown out the ringing in her ears.
“Are you done for today, Commander?” one of the men asked in the common language—a mash-up of the six languages spoken across the continent of Casetreon.
“Yes, thank you,” Alannis answered as she handed him the reins.
Zyndra didn’t follow the handlers like she usually did. Instead, she turned to Alannis. Her amber eyes, twice as big as Alannis’s head, searched her rider’s face in concern.
“I’m fine,” Alannis assured the dragon in Grenvellish. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” Zyndra still didn’t move toward the aviary, and Alannis told her in the common language, “Go on.”
Finally, Zyndra allowed the dragon handlers to lead her into the aviary.
Alannis turned to the small gray brick building that sat in the aviary’s looming shadow and acted as a changing room. Thanks to the pain that shot up her right leg with every step—another injury that remained after the attack on her unit—Alannis’s walk toward the changing room was more of a limp.
Alannis was grateful to see that nobody else was in the tiny, one-room building, giving her a chance to examine herself without the scrutiny of others. Her flaming orange-red hair was a mess. Even the best braid couldn’t shield one’s hair from being whipped around in the wind when they were on a dragon. Her pale, freckled skin burned with the sting of the wind, turing it a vibrant shade of red. Most importantly, her light brown eyes were bright and clear. Nobody would be able to guess that she had been crying only a few minutes before.
Weakness was not valued among dragon riders, and Alannis didn’t need to give anyone any more reasons to think she was weak.
She grabbed her brown leather bag off the hook on the wall and retrieved the clothes she wore on the way to the aviary: A dark green long-sleeved tunic, loose brown pants, and brown knee-high leather boots. She peeled off her riding leathers and shoved them into her bag before changing back into her regular clothes.
When Alannis came out of the changing room, a large brown bird was sitting on the perch next to the door.
A messenger hawk.
Alannis checked the tag attached to the slim black tube tied to the hawk’s foot. Sure enough, it was addressed to her. A messenger hawk’s sense of smell was so strong that it could follow someone’s scent to the exact building its target was currently in. She opened the tube, her eyes widening in surprise at the wax seal on the rolled-up piece of paper. The outline of the continent of Castreon.
The Council of Caestreon’s insignia.
Alannis couldn’t imagine why The Council would want to speak with her. The note offered no explanation, only stating that The Council requested her presence as soon as Alannis received the note.
As Alannis headed toward the stables to retrieve her horse, her heart pounded with the uncertainty of what awaited.
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