Can't Cheat Death - Brennan Sorrengail

II: Dragon Fire

The rain is still coming down in sheets when we make our way to the courtyard. There are at least a couple hundred cadets hanging around, clinging to the walls to stay as dry as possible. Alill and I do the same. We manage to find a small overhang, although were pressed nearly shoulder to shoulder with the candidates beside us, but at least we're dry- save for the occasional drops that hit my face. Some of the cadets don't even bother to scrounge for cover, opting to drench themselves while we wait for the last of the candidates to cross. 

Shivers rack my body, the rain bringing a temporary relief to the hot July air, but it leaves my skin covered in goose flesh and my already tight shirt clinging to my skin. My arms are crossed over my chest, and it's hard to ignore how self-conscious I feel with my soaking shirt leaving little to the imagination, and I avoid the gazes of the boys standing closer than I'd like. Alill's arm is still draped over my shoulder, and I nudge farther into his chest. He's practically a furnace beside me, and standing so close keeps the other men at bay. 

When the boy with spiked green hair and the Tyrrish girl cross the parapet with a practiced ease, I'm almost jealous. They make the treacherous path look simple, as if they had no fear of falling, that if they did, they'd survive, even in the heavy rain and fog that surround the Riders Quadrant. Though, I suppose when you ride the backs of dragons, something like the parapet is trivial.

Some riders, easy to spot with their unique black uniforms start rounding up all the candidates, herding us like sheep into a haphazard clump facing the dais at the head of the courtyard. Unfortunately, that means we're pushed back into the rain, and I have to use one arm to keep the rain from falling into my eyes. A man, probably in his mid-forties stands before us on the dais, streaks of gray beginning to peek through his close-cropped brown hair, and a thin mustache lines his upper lip. 

"five-hundred and twenty-seven of you have survived parapet!" The man says, using lesser magic to project his voice over the roaring wind and rain. "Eighty-six of you did not." A quiet falls over the crowd and I cringe. I don't care to know the numbers, what percentage of people died trying to get here. I survived. Alill survived. And that's all I care about. "I welcome you, cadets, to the Riders Quadrant!" He gestures to the courtyard, to the four-story building built into the mountain wall behind us, and to the mountains themselves and the cadets around me start up a cheer.

"As the codex says," the commandant continues once the cheering subsides. "Now, you begin the true crucible! You will be tested by your superiors, hunted by your peers, and guided by your instincts. If you survive to Threshing, and if you are chosen, you will be riders. Then we'll see how many of you make it to Graduation."

"How long is this going to take?" Alill mutters, just loud enough for me to hear. "I'm tired of being soaking wet."

I smack his chest and glare halfheartedly over my shoulder. Though, I have to agree, even the seasoned Second and Third years on the dais look ready to call the theatrics to an end. 

"Your instructors will teach you," the commandant sweeps his hand towards the row of teachers to his left standing stoically, unbothered by the rain. "It's up to you how well you learn. Discipline falls to your units, and your wingleader is the last word. If I have to get involved..." A cruel smile lines his face and it takes everything in me not to move. "You don't want me involved." In an instant the smile is gone, and he continues. "With that said, I'll leave you to your wingleaders. My best advice? Don't die." He walks of the stage, leaving only the riders on the stone dais. 

To my utter disbelief, the brown haired, Tyrrish girl from the other side of the parapet steps forward. "I'm Lydia, senior wingleader of the quadrant and head of Second Wing. Section leaders and squad leaders, positions, now." Whatever moment we'd shared on the other side of the parapet was gone. I hope Alill and I will be put under her command, she- Lydia- was kind before I crossed the parapet, and although I won't admit it out loud, she reminds me of Tyrendor and Aretia, of home.