Can't Cheat Death - Brennan Sorrengail

I: The Parapet

Three wagons have already left the overhang of the mountain. My stomach sits in knots at the thought of what, or rather who, those wagons carried. 

Alill hisses beside me, his teeth bared and faced scrunched, watching the cart disappear behind the still growing line of candidates. "Never stood a chance."

"May their souls be commended to Malek..." I mutter, forcing myself to turn away. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into the second I left Aretia, but to be faced with so much death already? It made my stomach roll. We'd done nothing but mull around in line for over an hour, watching cart after cart roll away the closer we inched towards the stoney battlement. 

"Come on, Isla, you'll be fine." Alill grins, shifting his pack to his other shoulder as we shuffle forward. 

"That's easy for you to say."

He shrugs. "Still, I have to watch your sorry ass. So do us both a favor and chill out."

"Great pep talk. You sure you want to be a dragon rider? I think motivational speaker might be up your alley."

"What can I say?" he grined. "I'm a man of many skills!"

"Sure." I deadpan, rolling my eyes. I thought I'd gotten used to Alill's antics after so many years of forced proximity turned friendship, but he always managed to pull at the smallest frayed string of my carefully manicured self-control. Not to mention the journey from Aretia had been hell. The mountain descent and the near week of travel we'd done on horseback was bad enough, not accounting for the near constant rainstorms along the way. To say my patience was thin was perhaps an understatement.

There's a scribe at the head of the line writing the names of all the candidates, maybe seven-hundred of us if this year if the rolls are consistent. When the cadet ahead of me steps towards the tower, I take his place, quickly giving the cream robed scribe my name.

"Isla Riorson." 

The scribe jots down my name with a quill. "You'll enter the doors to the tower and ascent the stairs. When you reach the top, another rider will take your name and signal you when to cross the parapet. Good luck, candidate." She sounds bored as she recites the mandated script, and moves on, calling out "Next!" as soon as she's finished. I step around the table and wait for Alill to give his name. The scribe rambles off the same instructions and Alill is beside me. 

The doors to the tower are mahogany, iron detailing marking the hinges and handles to the doors. Although this place is a 'college' it looks more like an outpost, with towering stone walls that release a chill even in the middle of summer and the only way in or out is through these imposing wooden doors that probably weigh at least three of me. 

Despite our earlier chatter, and Alill's natural aversion to silence, we don't speak as we climb the stairs. I can feel my chest tighten with every step, my heart pulsating in my ears. I can't do this, I never could, I think, I'm going to fall off the parapet and my body is going to be thrown into some wagon and dragged off to be buried at the bottom of the cliffs. I'll be forgotten, and everything I've ever done in my life will mean nothing. I'm never going to see dad again, or Xaden. Never throw another game of Cabhag because if I don't Xaden will throw another moody teenage tantrum and refuse to play. What I wouldn't give to see him throw down his cards in frustration just one more time.

"You're going to get yourself killed!"

The words ring in my head like a bells. Over and over. The anger and disappointment of my brother's voice ringing so close to my heart it nearly stops beating. I'll never get to tell him how much I love him, hug him while he tries to squirm away because he's 'too old for hugs,' never wrestle with him in training because he needed a hard hand to learn.