Chapter Text
Chapter 1.
A dragon without its rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead.
—Article One, Section One.
The Dragon Rider’s Codex
Conscription Day was always the deadliest. Maybe that’s why I linger over my breakfast this morning, watching the sunrise, savouring the calmness of the morning – because I know it could be my last. I know that Mira and Violet are in General Sorrengail’s office, trying one last time to change the General’s mind. I know they will fail. Violet will join me in the rider’s quadrant this year, or she will die trying to.
I never had a choice. My course was set from the moment the General, my own mother, sent me to be fostered by Fen Riorson on Violet and my 5th birthday. The fact that I am her daughter didn’t matter 10 years later either, when she forced Xaden and I to watch the closest thing I had to father be executed by dragon fire for treason.
Hearing the raised voices, and seeing the uneasiness of the lieutenants as they walked passed our living quarters, I slowly make my way to join my sisters in the General’s office.
“Then undo it,” Mira seethes. “She’s spent her whole life training to become a scribe. She wasn’t raised to be a rider.” I admit, Mira does have a point. Despite the training Violet has done over the last 6 months with Major Gillstead, she is woefully unprepared for what will face her in the Rider’s Quadrant of Basgiath War College. None of them have noticed me enter and I lean back against the wall, folding my arms across my chest.
“Well, she certainly isn’t you, is she Lieutenant Sorrengail?” my mother replies, bracing her hands on the desk in front of her. My elder sister is almost an exact copy of what I have our mother was like at that age. Tall, strong, tanned from spending time on the backs of their dragons. Ready to fight at a moments notice. The carry themselves with the same arrogance, almost convinced that the world owes them because of our last name. I know better than to think it does.
Violet is the opposite. Short, thin, pale. The sickness that nearly killed her when she was pregnant with us had longer lasting percussions on Violet and I than it did her. We both suffer from brittle bones, loose joints and weak ligaments. While Violet has spent her life hiding in the Archives with our father, away from anything that could potentially harm her, Fen Riorson took a more proactive approach with me. From the moment I entered his care, he had me strengthening the muscles around my joints with dance classes, strength exercises and sparring. He made sure I was prepared for the battles that would undoubtedly be in my future. He made sure that I was prepared for the threats that surround the borders of Navarre, even if those in power refuse to acknowledge it or help our neighbours defend themselves.
The Apostasy, or the Rebellion as those loyal to Navarre call it, wasn’t just Tyrrendor wanting to secede from Navarre, it was a movement to help our neighbours. To make those living in Navarre aware of the very real threats that surround our borders. Hundreds of 20 year olds are conscripted into Basgiath every year, trained as scribes, healers, soldiers and riders, to fight a threat that most have never heard of: the Venin.
You see, magic is real. Dragons are real, Gryphons are real. And Venin are real. No matter what the leadership would like you to believe, venin are real. Riders channel magic through their dragons. Fliers, through their gryphons. Venin channel their magic straight from the earth. Siphoning the life and magic from the land surrounding them. The gain the magic of the earth, but at the cost of their humanity. The power drives them insane. Maybe not straight away, but all eventually succumb. The lust for power that that type of channelling brings, it becomes unmanageable and leaves you. Always. Wanting. More.
Our neighbours in Poromiel have been fighting these monsters on their own for centuries, always asking for help, for support, but receiving nothing but violence in return. The war that we fight with Poromiel is not as reasonless as the leadership in our country would have you believe. We have access to the only material that can kill a venin. The alloy. It powers our wards, and when added to our weapons, can kill the venin where all other weapons fail. Tyrrendor rebelled because our leaders, Fen and the others, could not idly stand by as our neighbours suffered at the hands of the Venin.
But Navarre will stop at nothing to ensure that the existence of venin stays secret. They’ve erased all mentions of them from our history, despite the fact that they are the reason the provinces untied into one country in the first place. They have banned all books of folklore that mention them. Even speaking about them can have you brought before an interrogation squad for questioning and punishment.
“… Are you that eager to bury another child?” Brennan, I realise, as I tune back into the conversation. The temperature in the room plummets as mother begins to lose her control. As far as Navarre is aware, he died in the Tyrrish Rebellion. While mother respects Mira, tolerates Violet and ignores my existence (most of the time), she loved Brennan.
“She didn’t mean that.” I speak up for the first time since entering the room. Mira and Violet both start as they realise I am here. Mother turns her glare momentarily on me, before returning it to Mira.
“Get. Out. Lieutenant. Before I report you absent from your unit without leave.” Mira straightens before leaving the room, grabbing her rucksack on her way out.
The temperature rises as Mother turns to look at Violet. “You scored in the top quarter for speed and agility during the entrance exam. You’ll do just fine. All Sorrengails do just fine.” As she continues, she reaches out to stroke my twin’s cheek with her knuckles. “So much like your father,” she whispers, before backing away from Violet. She never has been particularly good at being emotionally available.
She speaks to both of us now, although I am aware that this is mostly for Violet’s benefit. “I won’t be able to acknowledge you for the next three years, since, as commanding general of Basgiath, I’ll be your far superior officer.”
“We know,” I reply with a roll of my eyes, causing her glare to return.
“Neither of you will get special treatment because you are my daughters either. If anything, they’ll come after you harder to make you prove yourself.”
I know I should stay quiet, but I can’t resist the comment bubbling up my throat. “I don’t think that’s why the majority of cadets will be aiming for my neck with their daggers,” I glare, waving at my mother with the arm that has a spiralling Rebellion Relic swirling from my wrist to just above my collarbone. General Sorrengail’s greatest shame. That her daughter holds a rebellion relic. A reminder that she was fostered by, and considered the daughter of, the leader of the Tyrrish Rebellion. It was the one black mark on her record of service in the Navarrian military.
“I’ll see you at Threshing Candidate Sorrengail, although I suppose you’ll be a cadet by sunset,” Mother spits out while looking at Violet. “A word, Alassë?” It’s not a question.
Violet takes the dismissal for what it is, heaving her pack onto her shoulders to go meet Mira, who is most likely waiting outside the door for her. I turn to our mother with a raised eyebrow.
“You do remember our deal, do you not?”
How could I forget. After the Apostasy, in return for not killing the 108 children of rebellion leaders, including me, Xaden took responsibility for each and every one of us. As is Tyrrish tradition, mother carved 108 lines into Xaden’s back as I watched. One for each of us. If one of us steps a toe out of line (and is caught) it is Xaden who will be killed for it. We owe him everything. In return, each of us will conscripted into the Rider’s Quadrant at Basgiath to prove our loyalty to Navarre. But as if that wasn’t enough, mother requested an unspecified favour from Xaden that she could call in at any time. What she hadn’t known at the time was that Fen Riorson had been raising me to be the future Duchess of Tyrrendor, and that I was already betrothed, with my father’s permission to Xaden Riorson. Any deal or responsibility taken up by Xaden was mine as well, as mother found out 2 weeks ago when she summoned Xaden to her office to call in her favour.
Her request: That if Violet makes it across the Parapet, that he do all in his, quite considerable, power to keep her from being killed in the Quadrant.
Upon hearing this request, Xaden had immediately requested my presence in the meeting.
***FLASHBACK***
I was just returning from the healers quadrant where I spent a significant of my time when in Basgiath, learning how to properly tend wounds, when the runner found me. “The General would is requesting your presence in her office.”
I stop short of entering our living quarters, and continue down the hall. As I enter mother’s office, I see the look on Xaden’s face and began immediately moving to his side, presenting a united front to my mother.
“You requested my presence Darling?” I ask Xaden, as much to get a rise out of my mother as to tease Xaden. I am sure by now that my mother has caught on to my relationship with the Squad Leader, even if she hasn’t had it confirmed.
Apparently Xaden feels like fucking with mother as well as he takes my hand and raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of my fingers. “Of course, Angel. Your mother has a request of us.”
“I have a request of you, Squad Leader, not of my daughter,” My mother spat out harshly.
“Unfortunately for you General, any request you make of me, is also a request of Alassë. Let me fill in the apparent lack of knowledge you have from Alassë’s time fostered by my father.” Xaden begins to speak with a wolfish grin. “You see, fostering a child with a noble family in Tyrrendor is tradition between families where it is assumed that the child will marry into that family. A fact that your husband was well aware of. As is Tyrrish tradition, when Alassë was 10 years of age, your husband and my father drew up a betrothal agreement, promising her to me, and myself to her, to be enacted once we had both graduated from Basgiath.”
It is here that I take over the explanation. “Of course, there were clauses that would allow either Xaden or I to break the agreement, such as one of us falling in love with another, or our relationship becoming untenable for either of us.” I wish to reach out for Xaden’s hand, to feel the strength and safety that I feel anytime I touch him. My mother has always made me feel small. Weak. Insignificant. But I know that I can’t show that in front of her.
I feel a cool shadow press against my back. Of course. Xaden will always find a way to give me the strength I need.
I press on. “Neither of us has felt the need to break the agreement yet, and since both our fathers are dead, no-one else has the authority to break it for us.”
My mother’s face has become more thunderous as the pair of us speak, and the temperature has already dropped by several degrees. “And you never felt the need to inform me of this… agreement… daughter?” my mother asks.
“Father knew,” is my only reply, clearly shutting off that avenue of conversation.
“And what does this… revelation… have to do with you fulfilling the favour you owe, Squad Leader Riorson?” my mother turns back to Xaden.
“Tyrrish tradition states that the responsibilities of one partner are shared by both. You want me to take responsibility of Violet if she makes it across Parapet, you make it Alassë’s responsibility as well,” he replies.
“That was not the case 5 years ago.” My mother states, thinking she had the upper hand.
All I do in response is to turn around, raising the back of my shirt to show the 107 scars on my back representing all the separatist children, minus myself and Xaden.
“To effectively protect her, Alassë will need to be in her squad. And I’ll need all the authority you can provide me with.” Xaden’s request is not much of a stretch. With how powerful his signet is, and with how highly he achieves in all classes the quadrant offers, he is an obvious choice for Wingleader once the current third years graduate.
Mother glares at both of us as I return my shirt to it’s correct position. “If she dies, both of you will pay the price,” is all that she says in return, ending the conversation and dismissing us both from her office.
***END FLASHBACK***
“Of course we remember. Plans are already on place, and Xaden has made sure that he has been stationed at the top of the tower.” I reply.
“She can’t know what you’re doing. You of all people know how important it is that she is able to protect herself and fight in the coming years.”
I scoff at her comment. Violet would know herself, as would all of Navarre, if Leadership weren’t so terrified of the venin, that they refuse to even acknowledge their existence most of the time.
“Just because we promised to not let her die, doesn’t mean that we have to pretend to like her,” I reply.
I receive a disappointed look from my mother. Despite having spent only 2 months a year with my biological family since I was 5, my mother still expects me to care for them, even though none of them spare me more than second thought. In fact, the only one of my siblings to have bothered to get to get to know me is Brennan, and my mother and sisters all think he is dead, rather than helping plan and lead a rebellion from a supposedly destroyed city in the country’s largest province. Their loss. As Brennan and Xaden say, I’m fucking awesome.
“Get going candidate. I do not tolerate lateness in my college.” Mother is obviously finished with this conversation, and honestly, I do need to finish preparing to walk the gauntlet.
I leave Mother’s office, heading back towards the room I share with Violet. When I walk in, Mira is finishing braiding Violet’s hair, while she looks me over. “You should have cut your hair as well.”
An unfortunate side effect of the sickness. Violet and I were both born with hair that fades to the same metallic silver at the bottom, although the top of her hair is a far lighter brown than mine, matching both Mira and Mothers, while mine is darker, almost black, like father and Brennan’s.
“You are the only two with hair like this. It will make you an even bigger target.” She continues.
“Like the Rebellion Relic won’t already do that,” I reply.
“At least you have properly braided your hair. There’s a package for you on your bed. Put it on.”
I gaze at my older sister in shock. I haven’t received any presents from my biological family since I was marked at 15.
Catching my shocked expression, Mira answers my unasked question. “We may not be close, but I refuse to bury another sibling.” Guilt pools in my stomach as I unwrap the package on my bed. It’s an armoured corset, but I am unsure of the material it is made out of. The black mesh on top and fabric weave underneath is easy enough to identify, but I’ve never seen the small overlapping discs in-between them before.
“They’re Teine’s scales,” Violet offers, as I put the corset on over my black, sleeveless, high collared shirt. Once the corset is secure, I stuff the Poromish corset Felix had sourced me into my bag. It never hurts to have a backup.
“One of the riders at my outpost has the ability to make big things, and small things, much, larger,” Mira grins, as she continues Violet’s explanation.
Mira loosens her grip on Violet’s head, pinning the last section into place so it is not blown away by the wind, obviously continuing the conversation they were having before I entered the room.
“Be observant. Quiet is fine, but make sure you notice everything and everyone around you yo your advantage. You’ve read the codex?”
“A few times,” Violet replies.
Riders live and die by the codex: the rule book for the Rider’s Quadrant. It is significantly shorter than the rule book for the other quadrants, most likely because riders have a problem following the rules. Generally, no-one cares about what riders do, wear or say, as long as they obey the Codex, and are wearing black. The corsets Violet and I now wear may have a slight green tinge if you look close enough due to the colour of Tiene’s scales, but the black mesh on top covers it enough for them to count as black for purposes of the uniform.
“Do you need me to check your pack?” Mira asks me.
I shake my head. I put the rest of my belongings in my pack yesterday. Most of things I want to take are already in the quadrant, sitting in Xaden’s room. Since returning to Basgiath from Colonel Felix Gerault’s, where I had been fostered with Garrick Tavis and Bodhi Durran since the Apostasy, 2 months ago, I had been slowly sneaking books and weapons across to the quadrant while visiting Xaden, Garrick, Bodhi and Imogen. The leadership cadre at Basgiath like to think that the Rider’s Quadrant is secure from people sneaking in and out, but if you spend enough time there, are sufficiently motivated, and have a partner who can control shadows, you can get away with almost anything.
All I have in my bag today are: a change of clothes; a book on healing; wraps for my joints; a Basgiath approved history text; several jars of toxins and poisons; and a whetstone for sharpening the blades, which are now distributed between the sheaths on my new corset and Xaden’s room.
Mira’s nods and as the bells chime 30 minutes before the gates open, we begin to head down towards the courtyard. I block Mira out as she continues reeling off advice to Violet for her time in the quadrant. The older marked ones have already briefed all the new marked candidates on how to survive, both on the parapet and in the quadrant.
Right before we turn to enter the courtyard, Mira stops, pulling Violet into a tight hug. “I love you. Remember everything I’ve told you. Don’t be another name on the death roll.” Her voice shakes, and I watch Violet grip her tighter as she tries to convince both herself and Mira she will be alright.
“She’ll be fine,” I add, feeling out of place, the uncomfortable feeling jealousy pooling in my stomach. My whole life, almost everyone in my family has preferred Violet to myself. I can’t even blame it on the relic. Even before then, I was an outsider in my own family. I still don’t know what caused mother to send me away at 5, or what she said to father to get her to agree. But every year, for the 2 months I am home, I have to watch as Violet is spoiled by Mira, pours over texts with Father, and is treated with indifference by mother, compared to the outright disdain and dislike that she shows me. The only member of my family that actual seems to like me is Brennan, but I have a slight advantage there, being the only other Sorrengail to know he is still alive.
Mira nods at my response. “Lets go.”
We head out into the crowded courtyard outside the main gate, slowly making our way through the madness of the gathered instructors, commanders and families waiting for the bells to toll 8 o’clock and conscription to begin. Each quadrant has it’s own entrance to the war college, and their own facilities, although the Rider’s Quadrant is the largest, being a citadel all on it’s own, connected to the main college only by the think parapet and a tunnel to the healer’s quadrant.
As soon as we enter the crowd, I scan the crowds, looking for the other marked ones joining the rider’s quadrant today, while half listening to Mira and Violet.
“Find Dain Aetos,” Mira advises Violet. I roll my eyes. I only spend 2 months a year near that prick, and it’s still too much time. He’s too in love with the rules to question anything, and takes the words of the leadership cadre as gospel.
I catch Liam’s eye from across the courtyard, giving him subtle nod as we all continue moving towards the turret where Rider candidates will sign in and cross the parapet. That’s all we can do to acknowledge each other for now. As far as Navarre is aware, marked ones haven’t seen each other since the rebellion, only communicating in letters at most, and only then between siblings who have been separated. None of us are meant to have seen each other in the last 5 years.
When I turn back to Mira, she is advising Violet to get laid. Often. “… screw around in your own year. Nothing is worse than cadets gossiping that you’ve slept your way to safety.”
“so I’m free to take any first-years I want to bed,” Violet replies with a grin, “Just not the second– or third-years.”
“Exactly,” Mira winks.
I snort. “I’m planning on taking whoever I want to bed, regardless of year or rank.”
Mira just rolls her eyes.
As it gets closer and closer to 8 o’clock, more and more people head towards their respective entrances, the chaos becoming more orderly. I glance around again to see if I can spot Liam in the line. He’s about a dozen candidates behind me. He’ll be fine, I know it, but I still can’t help but worry him. He’s the first year I’ll know best. We’ve both spent plenty of time together in the last 5 years in Aretia. He’s one of my closest friends.
Mira is still spewing advice to Violet as we move closer to the front the line. The bell chimes again. 8 o’clock.
There are only 2 candidates in front of us now, and Mira is the only non-candidate left standing in our part of the line. As Violet looks towards the sign in desk, she gasps.
“Is he…?”
“A separatist’s kid? Yep. His relic matches Alassë’s.” Mira replies.
Violet has never paid much attention to my relic, except to comment on how it is a reminder that I should have reported what Fen was planning to mother sooner, that by not doing so, I was almost as bad as him.
“Most of the marked kids are from Tyrrendor, of course,” Mira continues speaking, “Although, as we know,” she glances at me, “not all are.”.
She suddenly stops. “I just remembered. Stay the hell away from Xaden Riorson.” She tells us both in a low, urgent tone.
“Not fucking likely,” I mutter under my breath, as Violet gasps “That Xaden Riorson?”
“He’s a third-year and he will kill you the second he finds out who you are.” Mira confirms.
“I grew up with him,” I state coldly, “Despite what you think, he won’t raise a hand to me.” I glare at my sister.
Mira glares right back at me before turning to Violet. “All the children of the leader were conscripted as punishment for their parents’ crimes.” Yeah, I think, our dead parents’ crimes. “Mom told me they never expected Riorson to make it past the parapet. Then they figured a cadet would kill him, but once his dragon chose him…. Well, there’s nothing much that can be done. He’s risen to the rank of wingleader.”
“That’s bullshit!” Violet exclaims.
“How?” I question them both when Mira nods in agreement. “Xaden has worked harder than anyone else in that quadrant to prove that he is loyal to Navarre. He is top of his classes and has sworn his allegiance to Navarre.”
Mira ignores me, turning to Violet, reminding her to find Dain. That he will put her on his squad, hopefully keeping her far, far away from Xaden.
We reach the scribe’s desk, and before either Mira or Violet can say anything, I nod to Garrick, the marked rider at the desk, sign my name, and begin climbing the turret, moving in front of 2 candidates, a man and a woman, who have paused at the bottom.
As I climb, I can hear Violet begin talking to the candidates between us, but based off the glares they gave me as I passed them, they aren’t fond of those of us who are marked. I focus on the steps and my breathing, while keeping an ear out to make sure Violet hasn’t done anything stupid like fall off the stairs yet.
Violet has always found making friends easy, especially compared to me. But the one advantage I have here, is that most of my friends are already here, or will be joining me next year. For once in Basgiath, I’m not going to be on my own for the majority of my time.
As Violet and her new friends talk about why they are here, a voice sneers up from behind them. “You might make it across the parapet. This one here is a breeze away from the bottom of the ravine.”
I roll my eyes and glance back, spotting the large blonde threatening my sister as the woman snaps back at him. I’ll have to point him out to Xaden before formation.
As we reach the top, Violet seems to lose her mind. “Let me see your boots.” She asks the woman in front of her.
Oh no. This is not going to go well.
“No Violet.” I turn around snapping at her.
She glares at me, turning back to her friends. “Your feet. What size are they?”
“Eight,” the woman answers.
“I’m a seven” Violet says quickly as a groan, moving out of the tower. She continues, “It will hurt like hell, but I want you to take my left boot. Trade with me.”
I snap. “No Violet. You will not put yourself at risk for someone you have just met.”
She returns to glaring at me. “Just because you’re a selfish bitch who doesn’t care about others, doesn’t mean I have to be,” she replies.
Rather than giving her a response, I follow the line of candidates in front of me, stepping off the top of the stairs, and beginning to edge my way around the outside of the turret. Xaden and I aren’t responsible for her until she makes it across parapet. If she wants to do monumentally stupid things that will get her killed before then, it’s not any of my business.
As I continue around the turret, I catch Xaden’s eye. He nods to me, sending a shadow to brush against my back before it wraps around my ankle. It’s all he can do. Riders on the turret aren’t allowed to help or engage with the candidates until they’ve proved themselves by becoming rider. I send him a small smile in return.
I love you, I tell him mentally, feeling him brush against my mental shields. All marked ones have been practicing shielding since before the Apostasy. Liam’s mother, who was a rider, taught us so we could more effectively protect ourselves if the worst came to the worst. Since joining Basgiath, Xaden and Garrick have continued teaching us, giving us tips based on what they have learnt during their time here.
The shadow around my ankle momentarily tightens in reply.
When I reach the front of the queue, the cadet looks up at me, a bored expression on his face. “Name?”
Alassë Sorrengail. Yes. That Sorrengail.” I reply, adding “Unfortunately,” under my breath.
And with a final glance towards my partner, and the storm clouds moving towards us, I take a breath, and step out onto the parapet.
I will not die today.