DragonRider by S. Rodman
on the battlement. It’s supposed to be summer, but it is Wales and I’m only wearing a tee shirt. My body is shivering but I’m not paying it much attention. I’m too intrigued with what is happening. I’m standing on a castle wall, with twelve other young mages. We are facing an inner courtyard that has the frigging side of a mountain as one of its walls. Apparently there is an enormous cave mouth hidden by a cloaking spell and any minute now, a dragon is going to stroll out of the mountain.
If this is a hoax or a prank, it’s very elaborate and I have no idea why anyone would go to so much effort. It’s not like I have any friends. There is no one to be amused by fooling me. In my experience, nobody finds tricking strangers any fun at all. But, if I’m in a coma dream or hallucination, it’s really bloody vivid.
Whatever the hell is going on, I really, really want to see what happens next. I’m staring at the mountain as if I can will it to open up and reveal its secrets. I can’t help but notice that they have positioned me last. The furthest from the alleged cave entrance. I know one thing is definitely true, Dragonriders are assholes.
Harlen said the only reason he didn’t think the dragon would pick me is because I’m not from a rider family, it’s not in my blood. As if that makes it any better. It just makes them snobby assholes or racist ones.
Whatever. It’s frustrating but there is not a lot I can do about it. If dragons are real, I’d love to be picked, because, hello? Dragons. It would also be immensely satisfying to see the look on these Dragonriders faces. Sadly, I have absolutely no idea how to get a dragon to pick me to be its rider. So wiping those smirks of their smug faces is going to have to remain a fun little fantasy. If this whole situation isn’t already one.
I sigh in exasperation at my spiralling thoughts and wrap my arms around myself in an effort to keep warm. Come on, dragon. Let’s get this over with. I send the thought out lazily but then jolt in surprise. I swear I just felt something. A feather soft brush against my mind. Like a whisper just too quiet for me to hear. I really am losing the plot.
As if to confirm my lack of sanity, the mountain begins to shimmer, and a dragon strides out. An actual real life dragon. Smaller than I pictured, it’s around the size of an elephant. Its scales are ink black yet they glimmer iridescent in the sunlight. Some of the scales are gilded with gold along the edges.
The dragon’s wings are curled neatly along its back. There are some spikes along its face, but the dragon doesn’t look monstrous or reptilian. It looks beautiful. Magical. Mythical. Wise. It is easily the most stunning being I have ever seen.
It swivels its head and one dazzling amber eye seems to regard me for a moment. My heart thuds loudly, but the magnificent being turns its attention to the first mage. With us standing on the battlement wall, which isn’t actually that tall, and the dragon standing on the courtyard floor, its head is level with us. Though he does have to stretch his long neck up to reach.
I watch, utterly transfixed as he sniffs the first mage. Then he regally moves onto the second one. Does that mean the first one hasn’t been chosen, or that he is going to sniff us all before he chooses? I hope it’s the latter, because it will be an honour to get that close to him, to feel his breath on my skin. It would be awe-inspiring.
I simply have to find a way of keeping my memories of this. I need to somehow figure out how to make a magical strongbox in my mind. This is far too precious to lose. I want to cherish it forever.
As I ponder the magical problem, the dragon slowly makes his way down the line of mages. Sniffing them all carefully as he goes. I wonder what I smell like? Old car and cheap deodorant, probably. I wish I’d known about any of this. I’d have brought sage or sandalwood or perhaps even catnip. There is something feline in the way the dragon moves, and in his expression. It might just be that he knows he is superior. But I still would love to try catnip. It would definitely be worth a go.
Eventually he reaches me and I’m vibrating with excitement. Up close he is truly gorgeous. He snuffles me with gentle huffs of warm air that smell of spice.
“May I touch you?” I breathe in awe.
The dragon regards me for a moment then gracefully ducks his head in a clear nod. I reach out and run a hand reverently over the spiny ridge above his eye. He feels warm to the touch and oh so smooth. My hand is tingling with the magic he exudes. He is incredible.
Harlen mentioned that the dragon’s name was Ri. It really suits him. Somehow the one syllable manages to be both regal and mysterious.
“Pleased to meet you, Ri. I’m Kirby.”
Nobody bothered to tell me how intelligent dragons are. For all I know, they could be like enormous dogs. But when he first walked out, I looked into Ri’s brilliant amber eyes, and I know a highly intelligent sentient being when I see one.
Ri huffs again and gently bats his head against me, for all the world like a huge cat. I laugh and stroke him with both hands. For his size, he is incredibly gentle.
“Congratulations!” says Harlen, suddenly right beside me.
I turn to him and blink in confusion. Harlen gives me a beaming, shit-eating grin. I don’t understand what he is so happy about. He gets to see dragons all the time, the lucky bastard.
“Ri has chosen you.”
I turn back to the dragon. “You have?” I exclaim in astonishment.
Ri does another one of his graceful head bobs that look like a nod and then I shriek in delight and jump up and down on the spot. I think I’m babbling a string of thank you’s over and over again but I’m not really sure. I’m far too giddy with excitement.
This is hands down, without doubt, the happiest and best day of my life.