The Time Tournament (Order of the Dragon #1)

CHAPTER 21

Elena

September 1429

A fter my previous failed attempts, mounting a horse seemed manageable—until I actually tried it. Every time I attempted to mount the unsaddled horse, it felt like my future in gymnastics was sealed, complete with involuntary splits.

Killian halted my next failed attempt with a firm hand on my shoulder. “Before you do anything, I want you to think about your trajectory. Consider yourself, the object you wish to tackle, and the distance between you two. Estimate the distance you’ll require for the maneuver and add appropriate speed based on your weight and height. Then decide on each step. Are you going to jump using one or both feet? Are you going to use one or two arms to prop yourself? Everyone is different and must meet their specific needs. Are my instructions clear?” Killian asked.

“Yes, but usually, people climb on horses using the saddle and those thingies you shove your foot in,” I said.

“The ‘thingies’ you refer to are called stirrups. And no, we won’t be using them. Your final destination will be riding a dragon bareback. Carrying an oversized dragon saddle isn’t feasible on the frontlines, Rider. As dragon shifters, morphing is our greatest advantage and defense. It’s easy to spot a dragon in the sky, but much harder to find one in human form walking on land. It’s our versatility that makes us weapons of mass destruction. It’s been this way for millennia.”

“Really?” I loved learning about dragon history. And coming from Killian-I-want-to-banish-you-from-my-fire-legion-Valkorian, it felt like an honor.

“Yes,” he continued, “humans and dragon shifters have formed powerful unions for many centuries across the world. When rulers realized the advantage dragons brought to wars, they always tried to sway us into alliances. But dragon houses were always selective, and few could persuade us to join, especially those driven by greed. We choose based on valor and dignity above all else, especially since we know what we can bring to the table.”

“And Vlad II is your choice now?”

“Vlad II has yet to prove himself as a ruler, but his father, Mircea the Elder, taught him well. Vlad has lived at Sigismund’s palace for years and didn’t succumb to the allure of power or riches. He simply wants our lands to prosper. Fates know, his brothers have no interest in that. Hence, we chose to represent him at Sigismund’s Order of the Dragon.”

“But are you saying that all dragons are meant to be used as weapons? Were you born like that?” I asked.

“Though it might seem hard to believe, no one is born a warrior, Rider Costin. It became tradition once other sky dragon houses started raising their offspring this way.”

The thought of Killian and Tarra as little dragons melted my heart.

“We started the grueling discipline in land and sky fighting, fire-breathing techniques, and scale training as early as five.”

My heart broke at the thought. So young and already predestined to become fighters.

“The reason why,” Killian continued, “we expect riders to land on our backs in the exact position every time. To offer security to riders and avoid a saddle, we have practiced controlling our scales for years. The last rows of our crests have been conditioned for just as long so riders could have natural reins to latch onto. It’s only expected for riders to do their job just as well.”

“Thank you,” I said, grateful he took the time to explain.

His brows shot up, but he quickly returned to his tough demeanor. “You can thank me only after you learn how to mount.”

“Well, that too,” I said. “Sooner or later, I’ll have to—”

He stopped listening and moved behind me. I paused, wondering what he planned to do. Suddenly, he gripped my waist, lifted me, and placed me on the horse. I froze at the touch of his big hands. “You’re lighter than a feather,” he said in awe. “And that’s after sword training.”

“Well, excuse me if I don’t drip with muscles like you.”

“That’s not it. I’ve overestimated your weight.” He looked to the side and lost himself in thought.

I opened my mouth for a comeback but stopped midway. Was this a compliment or not?

“Given your weight, I believe you can step on phalanges. Those are the easiest bones to break in a dragon’s wing, but you could pull it off.”

Judging by his excited expression, it probably was a good thing.

“I’ll have to talk to Tarra to adjust how her wing lays before you mount. It will take some practice, but I believe it will work. You’ll use her wing for running and jumping rather than only jumping. Let me demonstrate.” Killian went and brought logs and stumps of various sizes and heights, arranging them from the shortest to the tallest.

I dismounted and tried to figure out what Killian had planned.

“All right, Rider. Your goal is to pull back, speed up, run on these logs, prop both hands on the horse, and mount him. Do you understand?”

“I think I do,” I said.

“That’s not a satisfactory answer.” He shot me a dangerous look.

“Yes, sir, Commander, sir. I understand.” I straightened my back.

“Then show me.”

I walked back, focused on the trajectory, and eliminated any distractions from my mind. I had to do this. I sprinted forward, then slowed as I approached the log stairs. I hurried across the wobbly pieces of wood, using momentum, placed my hands on the horse’s neck, and mounted him. On the first try. Excitement surged through me. “I did it.” I turned to Killian. “I did it!”

“I knew you would.” No one could take the arrogance out of Killian. “We’ll need to practice with Tarra tomorrow, but I believe we’re headed in the right direction. Now, for the second part of your lesson––holding and steering the reins. Even in dragon form, we will understand your verbal commands. But you’ll also need to know how to guide through movement. If you pull at the reins, the horse will halt, but a dragon will go up.

“If you release the reins, the horse will continue its path, but a dragon will assume you’re down. Always hold on to our crests. If you pull slightly to the left, the horse and the dragon will veer to the right. The same goes for the opposite side. There are many other maneuvers, but these are the basics. Am I clear, Rider?”

“Yes, sir. ”

“Very well, now start with pulling the reins.”

I followed his instructions to the letter, and the horse shook his head. I pulled the left strap, but he didn’t even budge. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Try soft kicking him into a trot.”

“Okay.” I did as instructed, but the horse took it as an offense and took me on a gallop. “Killian, Commander, what do I do?” The gusts of dust blinded me. I turned to see what Killian wanted me to do, but the dusty fog completely covered him up. I only heard rhythmical thumps, a dip in the back of the horse, and a wall slamming behind me. I turned around and saw Killian. “How?”

He didn’t care to answer. Instead, he took the reins out of my hands and brought the horse to a halt.

Only when Killian turned the horse around did I realize how close we were. His large frame took up most of the space on the horse’s back, forcing me to lean deeper into him. Memories of our first meeting flooded back—smoke and leather. I shifted in the seat, but that only made things worse. I felt every dip and swell of his body against mine. And then some more. My heart began pounding for no apparent reason. Heat waves ran through my body. I needed to get off the horse now.

As soon as we arrived at the Rotonda, I did exactly that.

“Where are you going?” Killian asked with a frown. “The lesson is not yet done.”

“It’s not?” I asked, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down my back. The man was a furnace. “For a September day, the weather’s getting hot.” I pulled at my vest and shirt and let the breeze pass through.

“No one said you’d get mild weather every time you fight. Many soldiers train in extreme weather to further condition their bodies. You’ll get there soon.”

“I can’t wait,” I said, wiggling like a worm to avoid the constant jabs of his bulges. It didn’t work.

“Now, Rider, take the reins and show me how it’s done.”

“Yes, sir.” I carefully took the reins, avoiding his hand. I pulled the horse to the side so he could trot around the Rotonda. But again, my action didn’t interest the horse.

“There lies your mistake. You must pull harder.”

“Harder, huh?” Focus, Elena. Get it together.

He covered my hands with his and proceeded to show me. But I wasn’t in the right mental space.

“Focus, soldier,” he barked.

I flinched, snapping back to reality. “Yes, yes. Is this the right way?”

“It could be better, but yes. Bring the horse back to the middle of the Rotonda.”

“Yes, sir.” I did as instructed.

“Let’s end it here. Overtraining can lead to opposite results. Go rest for the day. Tomorrow, we’ll have Tarra join us.” He dismounted swiftly, not waiting for me to follow.

As he left for the Keep, he said, “Take care of the horse. Take him to a clearing, tie the reins to a tree, and let him graze. ”

“Yes, sir.” Didn’t he say I needed to rest for the day? Why did I have to do more work?

By the time night came, I was exhausted. Tarra brought me tasty food from the village, but every muscle in my body ached, so I retired early. But in the middle of the night, I woke up shivering. The room was as cold as a morgue.

The fall season brought colder weather, and sleeping in the marble room felt unbearable. I stood and left the room in search of a piece of cloth. I slipped into the room next to mine and set the candleholder on a table. No one lived there, so chances were that people who visited before the war had left something. Anything.

Then I heard the echo of footsteps. I stayed silent, hoping they would not try to see who had the light on. A shadow filled the doorless frame.

“Why are you awake, Rider? You should be sleeping. Humans, especially human riders, need their rest,” he reprimanded me.

“There has to be a blanket somewhere here. It can’t be possible that an entire castle doesn’t have one single cloth.”

“Why do you need one?”

“It’s getting colder at night, okay? I’m freezing,” I retorted, still searching through every nook and cranny.

“Why not get used to it?” he asked.

I stopped in my tracks and faced him. “Do you know how cold this cave gets at night?”

He looked at me, dumbfounded.

“Of course, you don’t. Dragons and their hot bodies. I didn’t mean hot bodies as in—”

“I know what you meant, but I still don’t understand why you’re not pushing yourself. Preparing your body for battle must happen at all hours of the day and night.”

“I only want a little bit of comfort, is that too much to ask? I’ve been sleeping on this cold marble stone since arriving here.” I sank to my knees.

“Stand up, Rider,” he ordered.

Now he had to use his commanding power. I pushed myself up and stood in the required position.

“We don’t seek comfort here, Rider.” He walked closer. “Now, better give me fifty push-ups.”

I searched his eyes, hoping he didn’t really mean it. He was serious. Damn it. Fifty push-ups. I wanted to complain so much that I bit my tongue. But I couldn’t afford to talk back. Not when he finally accepted me as a real rider. I planted my palms on the icy floor, straightened my legs, and began counting. One. Two. Three.

“That should warm you up, Rider. Finish the push-ups and go to sleep,” Jerk Face said and left.

The most annoying thing was that he was right. I warmed up—or rather, I felt the burn—barely able to keep my eyes open. I went to sleep, but by morning, I was shivering again.