A Fifth Daughter [Book 1: The Dragon Rider]

Eaton sits down beside me and sighs heavily. “You have a very…” He trails off.

“Annoying?” I offer. It’s easy to know what he’s talking about.

He shakes his head. “No, more like interesting family.” He nods to himself. “Yeah, interesting.”

I shake my head. “Well, I think they’re annoying.”

“Isn’t it sort of your job to?”

I shrug and look out the window, we haven’t moved yet, but I can feel the train preparing to as the breaks hiss. Slowly there’s a jerk and then spinning, but soon we’re moving at a hopping frog’s pace. The Vixen pulls away from the farm house and begins its gradual ascent. The front end rises and turns, it starts circling like a bird, gaining height and speed as it goes. Ten circles… fifteen… twenty… nearly fifty circles before it stops and travels in a straight”ish” line.

I turn to Eaton to distract me from looking down. “Where’s your dragon?”

“Nyx? She’s in the caboose.”

I just nod and stare ahead. The car is lavished in red carpet, red booths, and red walls. The ceiling is a long window and the clouds mist over like phantoms. A glass chandelier hangs from the center and barely moves as we travel through the air. We’re the only passengers in the car and I’m too far back to see into the second car and the fourth is black. A moment later, a man enters from the third car and approaches us, in what I can only describe as the clothing of a waiter; black with a white apron.

He stops and clears his throat. “Mr. Knight,” he says, offering a board. “We are picking up a Filly Ashmere and Niccole Brigham, can you confirm this please?”

Eaton takes the held out clipboard and signs. “Where are we picking them up?”

“Just outside Parnes Mountains.”

Eaton nods and returns the board. The man walks away.

“Why did you have to confirm them?” I ask, watching the waiter as he takes a seat up ahead.

“Just a precaution. It used to be that anyone could ride The Vixen, but about a month ago the rules were changed when a De–” He stops short and clears his throat. “It just changed.”

I sit up, feeling a little excited. “When a… what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I deflate and sigh. He’s obviously not going to answer me. I wish he would. I’ve barely been in here an hour and I’m bored. And to add to my misery, it starts to rain. I sigh again, this time in weary.

“What’s it like?” I mumble quietly after a maybe fifteen minutes of silence. My head is on my forearm leaning against the window, I don’t look away from the dark rain-thick clouds.

“What’s what like?”

I shrug. “Dragonmage, Legend, being a Rider, take your pick.”

“Alex told me he had to dare you to join.” Amusement laces his tone.

“I didn’t take the dare, I took the challenge. Now… answer my question.”

Eaton’s reflection shrugs in the window. “It’s not that bad. Legend is a bit hard to navigate at first, but this’ll be my third year, so I can’t say much, and I don’t really remember much before everything seemed normal.”

“Were you ever afraid?”

“No. For the most part I was excited. Who doesn’t want to have the ability to protect the ones you love?”

Me! I wish I could shout it out. I wish I could scream until I cry because of the pain screaming will cause on my throat and lungs. I wish I hadn’t left home. I wish… I wish for a lot of things. But The Vixen continues to trace invisible tracks, and rain bangs at the windows above. My wishes aren’t going to be answered. I just hope I can survive the next two weeks.

Static fills the car two hours later and a monotone voice talks over the intercom. “We will be beginning our descent to Parnes Mountains now, please buckle up as the weather will make the ride a little rocky. Thank you for flying with The Vixen, Legend and Lore Transportation.” The voice returns to static and then silence.

Eaton nudges me after clipping his seat belt. With a sigh I buckle up and return to my window-gazing position.

I don’t count the circles this time, but it seems less as we land in a forested area. The rain is quieter down here and more like a heavy mist. The door opens and a red-haired Elf walks in. Water drips off her, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she takes a seat toward the front and curls up, as if she can hide from the world.

I wonder if every Rider is like she and I at first. Do we all feel some type of fear to be going to the school of dragons? Or is she just really reserved?

Behind her walks a blonde girl who sits even further up in the car.

“Talk to me, please.” I mumble. I feel so tired. My morning lack of sleep has caught up and the intercom guy just informed us we still have three hours to Legend.

“What do you want to know?” Eaton is slowly growing on me. Every time I’ve asked him something he hasn’t sighed in exasperation or glared at me, just… answered. I’m slowly feeling bad for how I treated him earlier, but can’t find the nerve to apologize.

“Tell me about Legend.” I curl up in the seat, like the Elf that hasn’t moved since we picked her up an hour ago.

“Okay.” He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “Legend was first called Blackridge, and to some extent still is. It floats above Ourea Mountains, and because they’ve always been a part of Folklore, Myth didn’t claim them. They’re suspended about fifteen miles up and hover in a circle around the perimeter of the mountains below. It consists of nineteen islands. There’re the eight mountain islands, six of which share the names of the mountains below, and the other two are Dragon Island and Davenport Island.”

I scrunch up my nose. “Why is one called that?”

Eaton shrugs. “Before he was the bad guy he helped found Legend. I guess no one has ever thought to change the name.”

I nod in understanding, but am still confused. Davenport is the surname of the last tormentor of Fantasy, seems like they would have changed something. “And the other islands?”

Eaton expands his cheeks with air and then releases it with a breath. “There’s The Grounds, which has a mountain range we call Blackridge. It houses the school and guest homes, and the mountains are full of tunnels and caves where the dragons typically stay while their Riders are in school.

“The Arena is well, the Arena, and around it are The Quattuor – four forested islands – which could be considered mountain islands, but all consist of different tropical training grounds.

“There’s The House, which is an island of three in a row. The middle one has a campus-like set-up for those who want dorms or are teachers who live in Legend and don’t commute from below. The left and right islands are where the cabins are – which Alex has informed me, is where you will be staying. There’re nice little homey cabins and sometimes you share one and sometime you don’t. I’m not sure if you have a roommate or not.”

Eaton takes a deep breath. “And then there’s The Mainland.”

He leaves it at that and I raise an eyebrow in anticipation. “And…” He gives me a ‘what-are-you-talking-about’ face. “What’s The Mainland?”

Eaton shrugs. “It’s a mixture of terrains for the animals that Legend keeps. I like to call it ‘The Zoo,’ which is basically what it is, minus the fences and cotton-candy stands.”

For a moment I stare at the seat in front of us, thinking over the islands and trying to imagine what they all look like. “Wait a minute. You forgot one.”

Eaton shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, you did. You said there’s nineteen and you only told me about eighteen.”

Eaton scowls.

I sigh and hold up my fingers to count off the islands. “Eight mountain islands, The Grounds, the three for The House, The Mainland, The Quattuor, and the Arena. That’s eighteen.”

Breathing deeply, Eaton smirks. “Alex said you’re quick. I forgot about Rosemont Castle, but there really isn’t any reason to talk about it, no one is allowed to land on the island except royalty, so… just forget about it.”

I nod and slouch back. My butt is starting to hurt and my knee is bouncing. “How much longer?”

Eaton prepares to answer, but static fills the car again, interrupting him. “As we are entering Legend Airspace, please be prepared to disembark. We’ll be pulling in three minutes behind schedule. Thank you for flying with The Vixen, Legend and Lore Transportation.”

“Does that answer your question?” I huff and cross my arms. I’m annoyed and he’s making it worse.

The Vixen begins circling and I watch a huge building come into view. Five stories and completely brick, it could be described with the set-up of an ‘m’ or a ‘w’ depending on which way you’re looking. We screech to a jerky stop and I nearly whack the seat in front of us.

“Thank you again for flying with The Vixen, enjoy your stay.”

Thanks intercom guy, thanks.

Breathing deeply I stand and walk to the exit, Eaton following. He’s got my bags and doesn’t look like he’ll give them to me. The rain has calmed to a drizzle, leaving soupy ground behind. The Elf and blonde Rider are already trudging through the mud to a wide set of doors.

Eaton’s silver dragon, Nyx crawls out of the caboose and yawns. An identical gold dragon walks out and snaps at Nyx’s tail.

“Be nice you two.” Eaton warns, then takes off after the Elf and Rider, leaving me to my own mind.

The Vixen’s brakes relax with a hiss and then spin, before it takes off back into the air. Soon it’s all but a speck in the late afternoon sky.

The building, which I guess is The House looms over us, casting a shadow a mile long. There’s muddy grass everywhere, no pavement or sidewalks, just green grass an inch deep in mud. Trees are already changing color as if the seasons move faster up here. Which I guess makes sense with how high we are. I’m surprised there isn’t snow everywhere all year long. I like snow, but I’m not ready for it just yet.

“Coming Smoke?” Eaton asks. He doesn’t sound impatient, just trying to keep me moving. I wonder if Alex warned him about my aversion toward coming. I have a feeling he did with how forbearing Eaton has been toward my questions and little glares.

I step up to his side and we walk to the double doors the Elf and she-Rider disappeared into. Inside is a reception desk. An old, plump lady with orange hair and pink box spectacles sits behind it, shuffling paper and ignoring the tapping foot of the Rider. The plaque at the front of her desk says Mrs. Elm. The Elf clears her throat and the lady finally looks up.

“Hmm…” She considers. “Impatient.” Her voice reminds me of Mother Tyra’s; that old Common mixed with Ancient. “Name?”

“Filly Ashmere.” The Elf says, crossing her arms in a manner of defense, as if expecting some jab from her name.

Mrs. Elm flips slowly through a book in front of her. She reminds me of a sloth as her long fingers grip the page and move it ever-so-slowly. “Ah… yes. Filly Ashmere, daughter of August Bough and second generation; Loyal One.”

I frown at Eaton, wondering what that means. He gives me a look that I can’t translate.

“You’ve been given a cabin, your roommate should be here soon.” Mrs. Elm stands and takes a key off the many hooks behind her. She hands it over with a manila folder. “Cabin L-42, your escort will show you the way. Your class schedule is in this folder, anything you want changed you must decide on before tomorrow night. Classes start at nine Monday morning. I hope you enjoy your stay and finish your first semester with pride.”

Eaton steps up to the desk as the Elf and Rider leave. Mrs. Elm glares at him. “Of course you got to be an escort this year.”

Eaton smiles. “Come on, Paula, you know you love me.”

“Humph… if you consider me wanting to smack you silly every time I see you as love, then yes, my love for you is immortal.”

Eaton’s grin widens. “I knew they gave you a desk job for a reason. It’s the smile. Always bright and happy.”

Mrs. Elm, who hasn’t smiled once since we’ve shown up, gives him a dry look and then turns to me. “Name?”

I clear my throat. “Smoke Green.”

“Ah… poor child.” I wince and Eaton pats my back apologetically. Mrs. Elm searches through her book again. “Yes, Smoke Green, daughter of Allied Hays Green, Pure One.” She blinks and eyes me up and down. “Congratulations.” Her voice remains bland, devoid of any excitement typically contributed to a ‘congratulations.’

“Uh…”

She continues before I can think of actually saying ‘thank you.’ “You have a cabin. In fact your roommate just walked out of here, you and Ms. Ashmere are sharing cabin L-42. Here’s your key and school schedule, remember that you can only change things between now and tomorrow night. Classes start Monday morning at nine. Enjoy your stay and finish this year with pride.” She pauses and eyes Eaton who is still smiling, if only slightly. “Throw him over the bridge while you’re at it.”

“You’d miss me, Paula, and you know it.”

“I doubt it.”

Eaton shrugs and walks out. I follow behind after thanking Mrs. Elm, who just shrugs in response. The late afternoon air has chilled considerably compared to the heated office.

“Oh, Paula, always making jokes.”

“I’m not sure she likes you.” I comment quietly as Eaton leads the way through a grove of trees and toward the left side of the island.

“No,” Eaton shakes his head. “She absolutely hates me. I told her that her hair was ugly my first day here.”

“And that’s a reason to continue holding a grudge because…”

“Well, the day after I nearly set it on fire.” I gasp and he gives a breathy laugh. “Yeah, I was a little bit of a jerk at sixteen.” He smiles distantly as if remembering something fond. I’m not sure nearly setting someone’s hair on fire would be my definition of ‘fond’ but different strokes for different folks is what I’ve heard most of my life.

Eaton stops in front of a swinging bridge that connects an island to the one we’re standing on. I suck in a harsh breath at the depth of the endless drop below.

“Um…” I shuffle back.

“Yeah, even I find these challenging. I don’t really know who had the idea to do this, but they were idiots.” Eaton still steps out onto the first board and continues on. It barely moves with his jerky movements.

I gulp and close my eyes, but the open expanse of air below is ingrained into my mind and I can’t shake the feeling of falling. Deep breaths. I’m not going to fall, I’ll just plummet to my death. I blink my eyes open. I can’t believe my fear stems from riding a horse.

That little bit of anger seems to kick-start my adrenaline and I find myself half-way across the unstable structure and caught up to Eaton before I know what I’m really doing.

“Took you long enough.” He mutters.

My jawbone jumps, but I ignore the jab. “Are you always so sincere and open-minded?”

Eaton bobbles his head. “It depends. Sometimes I enjoy the kick of annoying people, other-times I just want to gauge someone’s reaction.”

We step off the bridge and I feel the demand to sit down and breathe deeply. I ignore the urge.

“I’m going to have to leave you here. Nyx is causing problems and she’s kind of my responsibility.” Eaton sets my bags down. “Follow that trail and look for your cabin number.” He salutes me and then walks back across the bridge. I don’t turn around until he’s out of sight.

A forest faces me, the trees scattered and the waning sun’s orange rays pecking through as if to check the animals are going to sleep with it. A wide foot-trod trail cuts and skitters around trees and through bushes. Every few feet lampposts stand, their lights flickering with uncertainty whether it’s time to wake up or not.

With a yawn, I grab my bags and follow the path. There are medium size cabin placed randomly throughout the wood. Each one holds a homey aspect to it. A small decorative porch surrounded by rose bushes and a high sealed window on either side of the door. Some have rocking chairs, others have swings. L-42 has a swing.

The door is cracked and even though I thought about knocking, I enter as if I own the place, and I do. Or at least half of it. And for only two weeks.

The Elf is in the kitchen and the Rider on the couch staring at the ceiling. They both give me a glance.

“She claimed the right room.” The Rider says. She points at the room she mentioned and then stands. “See ya’ll around.” She leaves.

The Elf watches me. Her red hair is a flaming beacon in the dying light and her green eyes are pale. She nods in acknowledgement and fiddles with her fingers.

“Smoke Green.” I say after a tense moment. I already know her name, but maybe she needs to say it to get over the awkwardness.

“Nice name.”

That’s not what I want to hear right now. “Thanks.” I say dryly and turn toward the left room. A bed and a sparse amount of other essential furniture – like a vanity, a dresser, and a desk and chair – are scattered around the bedroom. A deep walk in closet is off to the side. I drop my clothes bag inside it, making a mental note to clean it out later. My other-things bag I place on the bed. I huff and breathe harshly, thinking about what I’m doing here. What am I doing here? Proving a point? Trying to show I’m not as scared as I am? Or am I just so stubborn for answers that I’ve cursed myself to this life of dragons and heights.

The Elf – whom I will continue calling until she’s the one to tell me her name – knocks on the open door. She shuffles in a step and glances down at her clasped hands. “I don’t know if you like tea or hot chocolate, but I warmed up some water.”

I smile and it’s genuine. “I’ll take some hot chocolate, thanks.”

She glances up and returns the smile with just a slight twitch of her lips, then she’s back to the kitchen.

I give myself another moment to breathe, and then follow. She’s in the process of bringing the mugs to the coffee table. I sit down, grab my cup and curl my knees to my chest. She sits down stiffly. I wonder what makes her so troubled about other people, or if it’s just me. Except she made me hot chocolate, so…

“My name is Filly.”

I smile. “That’s a name I’ve honestly never heard before.”

“It’s a rare Elf name.” She shrugs as if it’s normal to be named after a female foal. “Although,” a slight noise escapes her lips and I realize it’s a laugh. “It’s funny you should say that.”

“Why?” I blow against the steam rising from my mug.

“Because your name is Smoke and she was an Elven princess.”

I shrug. I was going to be named Miracle. “My parents are weird.”

“Like normal weird, or weird-weird?”

“Well, my dad is dead so I don’t know, or remember and my mom is just…” I want to say secretive, but then she might ask about what and I don’t really have an answer for that. “She’s just allover weird.”

Filly smiles tightly. “I don’t know my dad, so I know that feeling. My mom is a bit of a recluse, I never really see her whenever I’m home.”

I almost tell her that that’s sad, but she didn’t give me pity about my dad being dead, so I don’t think she wants any.

My hot chocolate disappears too slowly, especially with how awkward it suddenly got in here. The room is now stuffy. I stand, put the mug in the sink and say goodnight. She only smiles tightly again, her pale-green eyes showing little mirth and returns the gesture.

I fall onto the bed and sigh. I hope tomorrow isn’t as… awkward.