"Rite of Passage" is the first piece of Tales of the Conclave, a book of short stories that take place within the YWU. It is a stand-alone piece and can be read on its own or with the other stories within the series, but it is recommended that the stories are read in the order of publishing, so concepts previously covered make sense to readers. "Rite of Passage" is rated 18+ for language, violence, and mature themes, and Tales of the Conclave is rated 16+ overall. For the table of contents, lore, or more information, click the link below:
Tales of the Conclave
Rite of Passage
The
sun shining through the window woke Juventas up, casting a bright glow
across his face as he blinked awake. His room was eerily quiet as he got
out of bed and slid on clothes, colorful patterns his mother had made
to be eye-catching and brilliant. He smiled as he ran his fingers over
the silky, soft fabric, the tips of his long, free hair grazing his back
as he buttoned the shirt. When he finished, he pulled it free, feeling
it fall behind him in fair locks. He grabbed his wooden bead necklace,
setting it around his neck and fingering the beads in an absent gesture.
Something felt wrong...
"Juve!"
His mother's voice called from the other room. The thought vanished. He
smiled and opened the door to go to the living room, his eyes flitting
over his older sister Jovana's lightly painted door across from his in
the hallway. Her steady painting hand was clear in the artful
forest
scenery, and Juventas' fingers reached out to brush against the wood.
Juventas smiled softly— and froze as the image seemed to flicker.
Weapons, the cold of the mountain tips, screams and blood-soaked snow
trails, entrances rising from the white crimson and dark, muscled
figures with glares of glass, depicted in masterful brush strokes. The
designs sparked something in his memory, something tugging to come
loose, but his mother called again and the thoughts were forgotten.
"Juve, come sit for breakfast!"
He
walked to the kitchen, bare feet on tile. The sensation felt
unfamiliar, like a memory from a long time ago as he pulled his chair
back and sat down at the table next to Jovana. His mother sat across
from him, his father to the left of him at the end of the table. The
smell of home cooking filled the air, and he pushed his hair back behind
his shoulders as his mouth began to water.
"Juventas,"
his father said in his soft tone. Juventas looked at him, the blond
wisps of hair turning to gray, his piercing blue eyes watching him. "Now
that you are seven, your mother and I have decided that you can start
your studies. After your school days, you'll come to my workplace and I
will show you what I do. You can begin to learn the art of wine."
Juventas' breath caught. The family secrets had been passed from
generation to generation, father to son. There were no written records
of anything: everything was in his father's head. And he was finally old
enough to learn?
"Just
like you've always wanted," his mother said. Her short brown hair hung
in curtains around her face, framing it as she watched him with a
hopeful smile. "Happy seventh birthday!"
Juventas
began to smile too, but it flickered and he couldn't make himself smile
fully. "Seven," he repeated, his eyes passing over everyone at the
table
— his mother, studying him happily, his father's watchful gaze, Jovana's bright blue eyes. "Father, I'm—" he paused. "I'm not seven."
"Of
course you are," Jovana said, voice bubbly and bright and... young. She
sounded so young. For some reason, that set Juventas' nerves on edge.
"You're seven, and I'm ten."
"I'm
not..." he stopped uncertainly. "I'm not seven anymore." He suddenly
became aware of how tight and restricting his clothes felt, like they
were several sizes too small for him. He tugged at them subconsciously,
feeling like they were beginning to choke him.
Jovana
tilted her head, and for a moment she changed, shimmering into a
fourteen-year-old, dead-eyed girl in a white wedding dress, bruises
covering her arms. Juventas didn't understand how such blue eyes could
look so... vacant. She faded back quickly to the ten-year-old in front
of him, and Juventas wondered if he'd imagined it. He blinked,
uncertain, and when he opened his eyes, he screamed. His mother's face
remained calm and pleasant, clear despite the blood flowing from the cut
of a knife across her neck.
"It's
what you've always wanted, Juventas," she whispered, reaching a hand
out towards him, and he shrank back, falling out of his chair. "You've
always wanted to learn the secrets of our family, to know the
tradition."
"The
secrets died with me," his father croaked, and Juventas recoiled when
he looked over to see the bruised and bloody face, blood dripping from
his left ear which was partially cut, a gaping hole in his chest. The
fabric around the sword end sticking from him shone with fresh red, and
Juventas scrambled backwards as his father stood, his hands skeletal and
empty. Jovana watched sadly.
"There is no art anymore where we have gone, little brother," she murmured. "No brushes and rainbows and colorful forests. Now—" her gaze turned to land on him, and she changed back to the dull, sorrowful eyes, the older face and features—
"our fingers are our only brushes, and if I want to paint, I must do so
in blood." She studied him, laying on the floor as he pushed himself
away from the table. "Dried blood is useless. But yours is still fresh."
She reached for him.
Juventas
woke with a gasp, bolting up on his hay mattress, panting to catch his
breath. He clenched his hands tightly into fists on his blanket,
silently praying he hadn't woken anyone else with the noise. There were a
few rustles as people turned in their sleep, but after several seconds,
he slowly relaxed his grip. No one had heard. His eyes scanned the
room, but unlike in his dream, no sunlight could reach him here
—
and even if it could, it wouldn't be up yet. He closed his eyes briefly
and kept his thoughts on his breaths, trying to slow them down. No
weakness. No pain. Showing them would only bring down more on him.
With
his left hand, he pushed his hair, stuck to his forehead with sweat, up
and away. Even though it had been four years since he and his sister
had been taken, he still wasn't used to the short haircut. It was
standard for the Wintercloud faction, and Elder Wintercloud would've
scoffed at anything deemed even remotely feminine, but he couldn't help
but miss his long locks. He pushed the thought away. He couldn't afford
to think of anything like that. His life no longer revolved around what
made him happy, but what kept him alive
— which meant proving his worth to his master, his Elder, and his faction.
At
the thought of his master, Juventas sat up fully. Maybe if he was
already dressed and ready by the time Dyten showed up, he'd be more
pleased with him. Juventas got the feeling he'd been disappointing Dyten
more and more lately, which wasn't surprising, but it
was
terrifying. Juventas had been one of the worst in training up until the
age of ten, and he'd been one of the worst picks of the entrance trials;
there had been several times he'd been sure they were going to toss him
in the snow to freeze to death with anyone else they didn't deem
worthy. But for some reason, he'd caught the attention of Dyten, a
Wintercloud rider in his late twenties. Dyten wasn't one of the best
riders, and he wasn't one of Elder Wintercloud's favorites either, but
he was skilled enough to train someone. Maybe that was why Juventas had
been chosen to train with him
— he was that too. He could learn, but he wasn't the best, and Elder Wintercloud certainly hadn't taken a shining with him.
Juventas
had a vaguely sick feeling that the more accurate reason Dyten had
asked to train him was because of Jovana, thirteen by the time Juventas
had completed the trials. He'd never approached the subject though
— he wouldn't dare—
and Dyten had never brought it up either. Elder Wintercloud had married
Jovana at the age of fourteen a few months ago to another older rider,
Kalief, and Dyten hadn't spoken of her since, though he'd certainly
seemed to act angrier around Juventas. And now, if he was disappointing
him... Juventas pushed the thought away. He'd do what he needed to,
whatever was needed to impress and please him. Anything to avoid a
whipping, to avoid being abandoned in the mountains and left to
the frostbite: because that was how you survived here. Juventas had
learned quickly that whatever moral boundaries you set for yourself
could be broken if only you wanted to live enough; it was a lesson he'd
learned when he knew that beating another boy out in the trials meant he
would die instead of him
—
and it was a lesson he'd learned when he realized that he would do
anything he could to stay alive, even though it meant another boy froze
to death on the mountains.
Juventas
carefully turned on his bed and slid to the ground in a silent motion
that had clearly been practiced. He was on a top bunk and careful not to
wake the boy below him, Daukantas, who was known to rough up the
younger boys for show. Juventas had had several black eyes from him, and
he wasn't anxious to repeat the experience. The long room was filled
with the noises of twenty sleeping boys as Juventas opened a drawer and
pulled out a white shirt and flexible pants for training clothes. He
hadn't been used to getting dressed in the dark before coming to the
Conclave, but now, he could do it in his sleep. He also hadn't been used
to training to a bloody pulp, but it seemed you got used to anything if
you did it long enough. At eleven, he had clearly defined muscles from
the nonstop work, and scars lined his arms and legs.
His
mind drifted to his father, the generations of the wine business
secrets that had died with him. He thought of his mother, her throat
slit in the middle of the night. He swallowed and pushed the memories
away. That night was awful, but it had to happen. Or he wouldn't be
here. And no matter what he could remember from before he was taken at
age seven, no matter what lessons of peace and kindness his parents had
taught him, he didn't know who he would be if he weren't here. He felt
like he'd been changed from the inside out, broken and reconstructed
over and over again. And they told him it was to make him stronger, and
it had happened so many times now that he was starting to believe it.
Peace and kindness were nice fantasies, but did they really have a place
in a world of pain and blood?
His
head jerked up as the door to the hall opened, and he pressed himself
against the metal bars of the bed to hide more. "Everyone up!" A voice
shouted harshly, and a rider already in gear stepped into the room with a
torch. He started walking along the bunk beds, banging each one
jarringly as he did, but it was pointless. Within five seconds after him
yelling, everyone was out of bed and on the ground, standing up
straight. Juventas straightened reflexively as the rider's gaze swept
over and past him, then came back. The man's eyes narrowed, and he
sneered, "Cute little boy. Sleep in your clothes?"
A
few of the older boys in the room, ones as old as seventeen who weren't
favorites of Wintercloud or hadn't been married off yet, snickered. A
few of the younger boys chuckled nervously. The youngest ones, Juventas'
age, stayed silent, watching the rider. Some watched with hesitation
and fear, but Juventas saw one or two who were watching with
anticipation and awe. You could tell immediately that they were the boys
who had grown up here, had never known anything else. They were either
taken when they were too young to remember, or born to another rider.
All the older riders were their role models, the people they'd been told
to look up to since they were little. Maybe that was why so many of
them were such big assholes.
"Come
on little boy, I'm just messing with you," the rider said with a wicked
grin. He didn't look like he was messing with him. It was a jab about
most boys sleeping in their boxers; for whatever reason, it was viewed
as girly to sleep with your clothes on. Juventas was no exception and
hadn't slept in clothes since before he was taken, but he knew better
than to argue with an older rider
— he wasn't in the mood to get beat up—
so he stayed silent through the criticism. Finally, the rider seemed to
get bored with his lack of reaction and turned around. "Alright boys,
get ready. You have five minutes, then everyone should be in the food
hall. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and if you arrive
late, nobody's going to help clean up your vomit when you throw up at
training, so move it." He grinned, lighting the two torches in their
room before leaving with his. He was likely off to wake up the two other
rooms of boys their age in the Wintercloud faction.
Juventas
frowned slightly. Did that mean Dyten wasn't picking him up? He did
that sometimes, just to get in some training before breakfast. But
clearly, Juventas' nightmare had carried him in sleep later than he'd
thought. He was up just in time to eat. Already dressed, he didn't move
as the boys around him started pulling on their clothes, all looking
practically identical to him. There was no originality in the Conclave,
but when Juventas had asked about it, Dyten had said it was to keep
order, which Juventas supposed made sense. He'd also gotten a few lashes
for the comment, so he definitely wasn't going to question it anymore.
He
considered leaving the room before the group of boys and going to the
food hall on his own, but he decided quickly against it. The only way he
wouldn't get picked on mercilessly by the adult riders was if he stayed
with the other teens and kids, who still picked on each other, but at
least it was more playful.
"Hey,
Juvie!" Daukantas smirked as he walked to him, dressed and ready. He
stood at least a foot over Juventas since he was seventeen. He was practically an adult. "You heard anything about that sister of yours lately?
Kalief told me she's finally started obeying him. It's too bad you don't
have two sisters, my brother and I could've gotten a matching set." He
grinned, but it looked like a predatory smile. Juventas tried not to
show how sick the words made him feel because he couldn't do anything
about it. Girls were treated differently here, and Jovana was no
exception.
"Finally
learned how to watch her tongue?" Another boy, Pierce, interjected,
then laughed. "Kalief seemed close to cutting it off the last time I
heard from him about her."
Daukantas
shrugged. "He left her in the dungeons for a few days without any food
or water. The rats seemed to shut her up." He was still smiling, like
the information didn't bother him. "Don't know why the new ones always
insist on making a big deal about things like that. Just don't know
their place, I guess." He turned back to Juventas. "Come on, little boy,
time to go eat." He wrapped an arm around Juventas' neck in a playful choke-hold but didn't squeeze too tightly, just enough for Juventas to
have trouble getting breaths in. He ruffled his short hair lightly
before shoving him out of his grasp and laughing as he stumbled. "Let's
go," he said, raising his voice to the rest of the room. Any younger
boys still getting dressed quickly finished and followed Daukantas as he
led the group out of the room. He was the biggest and oldest of the
group, and even though there were other seventeen-year-olds, he'd beat his
way to the top pretty quickly. They all followed his lead.
They
traveled through the halls as a group, Daukantas and the older boys at
the front, while the younger ones trailed in the back. The only younger
boys that even dared to get close to the front were the ones who had
been born here. There were groups of older riders in the halls, some
moving towards the food hall, some just talking. A group of tiefling
riders from the Tobar faction watched their group moving with amusement.
One of them, a blue-skinned man with a scar stretching across one of
his eyes, smirked as he caught Juventas' gaze. "See something you like,
little Winterling?"
Another
of the riders snorted and said, "Shut up, Daxus. You're about as
attractive as a Winterling." This seemed to crack up the rest of
the group even more.
"I
don't know. They've got a few guys I'd bang if I got the chance," he
said nonchalantly, then grinned. "If Edric hasn't gotten there first,
that is. How's Malik doing, Edric? Talked to him lately?"
The
boy he was talking to, Edric, rolled his eyes, a vaguely annoyed
expression showing on his orange face. "Talk is a loose term. You could
have better conversations with a rock." A faint shout of "hey!" came
from a way down the hallway from who Juventas could only assume was
Malik, and he saw Edric smile faintly. His eyes trailed over to the
group of kids and his smile dropped. Juventas looked away, not wanting
to hear anything more. He didn't need pity from a Tobar rider, not when
they were enemies of the Wintercloud faction. They may all be a part of
the Conclave, but Juventas knew if a Tobar rider had the chance, he'd
kill any Wintercloud rider without hesitation if he could frame it as an
accident. Any Wintercloud rider would probably do the same. Soon, the
group of boys turned a corner and Juventas could no longer hear their
conversation. He let out a small sigh.
"Juventas," a voice called, and he turned to see Dyten walking towards him purposely, already in training gear.
"Yes,
master?" Juventas said, trying not to show the surprise on his face. If
they didn't train before breakfast, he usually didn't bother with him
until after.
Dyten
set a heavy hand on Juventas' shoulder and pulled him out of the group
of boys. A few looked at them, but most didn't seem to care and kept
walking. They had reached the food hall, and Juventas watched as the
other boys filed through the doors. "You're eating with me today," he
said. It wasn't a question
— nothing from Dyten ever was— but he still responded.
"Yes, sir. May I ask
— why?" He said it hesitantly, and Dyten cuffed him behind his head.
"No, you
may not,"
he said in a way that was definitely making fun of the way Juventas had
asked. He said nothing in response to that because there was nothing to
say.
"Come
on, get your food tray and come to where I'm sitting." He walked
through the door and Juventas trailed after him. The food hall was huge,
with at least a dozen long tables stretching from one end to the other.
It had to be huge to house everyone who lived in the Conclave, the
recruits and riders and retired riders and families and wives and women.
The only people who didn't eat in the food hall were the people on
guard duty, people being punished, and the Elders. The Elders rarely
made appearances for any of the meals.
He
walked down the aisle between two of the long tables, making sure to
keep his hands to himself and not brush against anybody. Everyone was
always aggressive about physical space and touch at the Conclave, and
he'd seen enough fights during meals to know it was better to just be
careful. He finally reached the end of the food line and grabbed a tray,
waiting for around ten minutes before getting any food. Once he'd
gotten all he wanted, he left the line early and looked around for
several seconds before spotting Dyten with a group of older riders. He
didn't recognize most of them, but Dyten had told him to go to him, and
he definitely wasn't going to ignore an order like that.
"What
took you so long? You were gone for a good twenty minutes," Dyten
snapped as Juventas made his way over to him, and he barely stopped
himself from physically recoiling.
"The line was long, sir," he said with a steady voice, choosing not to correct him on the amount of time.
"Yeah,
whatever. Sit down," he said, moving slightly to show a narrow spot on
the bench that was still free. Juventas worked his way into it and set
his tray down in front of him, not sure if he should say anything. Was
there a reason Dyten had asked him to sit here? The other riders already
seemed to be deep in a conversation talking to one another, and it was
clear they were in the middle of something.
"
—The
nest," one was saying, an older rider who looked to be in his late
thirties. "And as the mother dragon was lowering down, those
goats
kept their weapons pointed at me. It was clear they were trying to trap
me in the nest, kill me off like they probably did with anyone else who
tried to steal those dragon eggs. I wanted to rip off their tails, see
how smug they looked when I wore them as a winter coat." Juventas,
feeling slightly green, picked up a roll and bit into it, the word
'goat' lingering in his mind. The slur was used exclusively for
tieflings because of their legs, horns, and tails, and it was one of the
cruder descriptions that Wintercloud riders threw around to describe
the Tobar faction. Rumors had it that Elder Wintercloud used the word
nonstop, and that the riders closest to him had also picked up his
blatant racism, but Juventas had never been close enough to his Elder to
know for certain.
"Gods,
Ty, keep your voice down, you idiot," the guy next to the older rider
muttered. At the table behind them sat a group of tieflings, all looking
slightly stiff, Juventas noticed. One of the tieflings had purple hands
that were gripping the edge of the table harshly, and it looked like
his claws were starting to slide into place.
"Shut
it, Maddon," Ty said. "So this mother dragon is circling downwards, and
her claws raked all over my body, but that wasn't what won me my rite
of passage." Juventas perked up, suddenly paying more attention. Rite of
passage? He'd never heard that term before. Ty rolled up his right
sleeve to show a section of skin that was uneven and pink. "Bit through
my chain-mail. She definitely got a taste of me before I could ward her
off. The goats got too scared and ran off, so I managed to grab her two
eggs and ran like there was no tomorrow. Nearly passed out from the
blood loss, but
—" he grinned—
"it was worth it. The looks on those goats' faces when they realized I
was not only alive, but had come to their little town to kill them?
Priceless."
"Rite of passage?" Juventas asked softly, and Dyten sneered at him.
"Nothing
you need to concern yourself with. You'll likely never get it anyway.
Stay a man-child forever." Across the table, Maddon laughed, and Ty
glanced over at Juventas.
"Never heard the stories, boy?" He asked. "You've been here, what? Three years?"
"Four," Dyten corrected. "And he's never heard them because he has no need. He'll never do it."
Ty
ignored him, rolling down his sleeve. "Here, you don't become a man with age. You become a
man with blood and sweat and glory. It's one of the few things all the
factions can actually agree on
—
you're not a man until you've tasted death on your tongue and bared
your teeth at him. The only way to become a man is to get an injury so
big that only the worthy can walk away from it. Get hurt so much that
only a rider with a god's blessing on his back could survive the night.
And when you get your rite of passage, once you survive the
unsurvivable, you're a man. People'll have to respect you then
— doesn't matter if they hate you. They'll respect you."
"It'll
never happen," Dyten interjected. "He's weak and inexperienced." The
anger and disappointment in Dyten's voice made Juventas' heart skip a
beat, and he ate another bite of his food to calm himself down. He was
running out of time. The minute your master got tired of you was the
minute no one was defending for you to stay. And when that happened,
he'd be thrown out as easily as the trash.
"Makes sense why he got assigned to you then," Maddon put in, and Ty laughed.
"You
gonna let your master think of you like that?" He asked Juventas, who
stayed silent. He certainly couldn't talk back to Dyten, but he didn't
think that was what Ty was suggesting. His words echoed in his mind:
When you get your rite of passage, once you survive the unsurvivable, you're a man. People'll have to respect you then— doesn't matter if they hate you. They'll respect you.
"Leave the kid alone, Ty," Maddon said, elbowing him. "He knows how to save his own skin."
"And why do you say that?" Dyten said.
"Because he knows when to shut up
— like the opposite of Malik. I bet half
his punishments wouldn't happen if he'd learn to shut his mouth.
Fourteen, and he acts like he owns the damn place." All three riders
looked annoyed. He'd vaguely heard of Malik
— the chosen one of their generation, the kid Elder Wintercloud was taking on personally— but he didn't have an opinion on him. As long as the anger was towards someone else, he could be happy.
"Malik's a grade-A asshole," Ty put in. "I'd like to hold the whip myself for his next punishment."
"Don't
be ridiculous," Dyten said. "Elder Wintercloud would never let anyone
punish his prized pupil but him. As strong-headed and dumb as the rest
of them."
"He
does seem to have a type, doesn't he?" Maddon said thoughtfully. "He
really does choose the bully out of every recruitment group, and without
fail, they're all the most idiotic and reckless riders to ever walk the
Conclave."
Ty
snorted and said something in agreement, and Dyten said, "Yeah, I've
been watching the new recruits, and I can already tell that one of them
is about to get a
very good position. Even if he's not trained by Elder Wintercloud, he'll be assigned to someone high up— maybe Vince and the twins' dad, or a former pupil Elder Wintercloud trained."
"Isn't Vince and the twins' dad already a former pupil?" Maddon asked.
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he might not assign the kid to someone else."
"Now what
I
want to know is why you've been watching the recruits," Ty said with a
glint in his eye. "You're not talented enough to be assigned
to help train them, so that's out of the question, and it isn't trials
season, so they aren't battling to the death yet, just training. Where's the fun in
spending your free time there? You can't even snatch one of them up
since you already have a pupil."
Dyten
watched him with cold eyes. "I'm just watching," he said shortly.
Juventas felt his whole body tense. He'd thought maybe he was reading
too much into Dyten's moods, but that clearly wasn't true. Dyten was so
angry and disappointed in him that he was actually considering dumping
him and getting another pupil. There was no other reason for him to be
watching the recruits this time of year. Every year, the ones who turned
ten would perform different events to test their skills in different
areas, try to beat each other out for a position. It was one of the few
big events at the Conclave; everyone went, people brought their
families, they placed bets on which ones would make it and which ones
would be thrown out. It was a fun event to attend, but a terrifying one
to take place in, and he felt his insides twist and turn at the
memories. He'd fought as hard as he could, and he was still doing that
now. He'd been doing everything he could during practice and training,
he'd been putting his best effort into everything. What was he doing
wrong?
"Hey, did you see the new piece Elder Wintercloud brought in?" Ty asked. "She's hot. She also looks younger than me."
"Wonder
how long that'll last," Maddon mused. "They don't usually stick around
too long. He seems to get tired of them so quickly."
"I'm ready for him to finally assign someone to marry
me," Dyten said, annoyed. "Gods know nothing's happened naturally yet. I'm twenty-eight— he usually starts assigning at sixteen."
"So
the question here is what did you do to piss him off," Maddon said
teasingly. "You had your eyes on that Jovana girl for a while, didn't
you? Too bad Kalief snatched her up pretty quickly."
"You
wouldn't want her," Ty interjected. "I heard from Kalief she's been a
handful to train. Now
she's someone who needs to learn to shut
her mouth."
"Like
Lavinia. Only she can get away with it because she's married to one of
Elder Wintercloud's favorites and she has three brothers who'll beat the
shit out of anyone who says anything about her," Maddon said.
"Since when do you talk to your sons?" Dyten asked Ty, and Ty shrugged.
"I
only talk to Kalief and Daukantas when one of them does something
wrong. I'm their father, not their master," Ty said. "The only reason I
ended up hearing about it was because Kalief was in one of the training
rooms at the same time as me. Said Jovana's been giving him endless
trouble, never stops crying. Like she never grew out of the toddler
phase, still having nightmares about her parents. What kind of parent
cripples their kid like that, to make them that dependent on them?"
"It's
weird how civilians do things," Maddon said casually. "They give birth
to the kids and then instead of sending them away to a nursery or
training, they just... keep them."
Ty remarked with disgust, "Maybe that's why Jovana is a little brat."
Juventas
felt uncomfortable hearing them talk about his sister like that, but
since he'd hardly gotten to see her over the past four years, it was
more of a distant pain. Memories from before the age of seven began to
blur by the time you reached age eleven, and his certainly had. As their
conversation continued however and they changed topics, Juventas zoned
out, circling back to the one thing that had stood out to him. The rite
of passage... they'd talked about it like it was a sacred ritual,
something that every rider had to go through. And once you did, people
were impressed with you. He felt the panic rise in him every time he was
with Dyten because it seemed like he could number the days he had
left, and now that he knew Dyten was watching the new recruits, he knew
for certain he was on borrowed time. Dyten was getting angrier and
angrier at Juventas' lack of progress, and with how behind he already
was with training since he started so late, one misstep could easily
lead to his death. With him watching new recruits, he might
even be able to lay claim to a new pupil within a matter of days after
having Juventas abandoned in the mountains. All he'd have to do was ask Elder
Wintercloud for permission, and then as soon as they passed the trials,
assuming Elder Wintercloud had agreed, they'd be his.
But
if he got hurt... his mind began to whiz as his thoughts came to him
faster. If he got injured enough to toe the edge of death, then maybe he
could impress Dyten. Maybe he could show his master he was worth
keeping around, that he was a man now, that he was worthy. He wasn't the
scared seven-year-old who had screamed when the riders had killed his
family, he wasn't the little kid they had to lock in the back of the
wagon to drag him back to the Conclave with everyone else they'd
kidnapped, he wasn't the boy who cried himself to sleep at night for the
first solid week after he'd gotten here. He was an eleven-year-old,
someone who had been here for four years, who understood how it worked
now. He had learned how he needed to survive, everything in his life was
mapped around continuing it, and now, he had finally discovered the
next step. The only way to recapture Dyten's attention, to stay here and
stay alive, was to do something so drastic, it would capture
everyone's attention. He'd need to get himself hurt on purpose, get so close to death he could taste him— and bare his teeth at him. Juventas needed to earn his rite of passage.
~~~
A
week later, Juventas still hadn't figured out how he would do it. He
knew he'd need it to be something big, and somehow he'd have to get hurt
badly
—
but how did he turn it from being seen as a reckless mistake to a
heroic sacrifice? The question haunted him as he slept less and less,
the knowledge of his own time running out always on his mind and keeping
him awake. He found his reflexes becoming less sharp as the lack of
sleep began to affect his body, and at one point, Dyten stormed out of
his training session in anger after Juventas hadn't been able to block a
simple strike with his sword. Dyten had yelled that he'd better "get
your shit together" under the threat of a public whipping as punishment,
and Juventas had known then that he needed to find the answer to his
question
— or he'd be gone before he could.
Three
days after the sword incident, and Juventas finally got what he'd been
searching for: an opportunity. It was after dinner one night, in one of
the common lounges. Juventas was sitting on the floor in a group of
boys, several from his room including Pierce and Daukantas, and a few
that he didn't recognize
—
presumably from other rooms or with higher-ranked masters. The chairs
and couches were always reserved for the adult riders, but one boy was
sitting on the couch next to the conversation like he owned the place,
chiming in occasionally in an "I-know-all" type of voice.
"You're
all idiots," the boy was saying. "You think a regular woodland creature
could be killing that many guards? You think they're getting taken out
by a pack of wolves, or a tiger?"
"Know something you're not saying, Malik?" Pierce asked in a slightly annoyed tone. "If you do, just spit it out."
The
boy, Malik, grinned. "But what fun would that be, Pierce?" He waited
for a few seconds, then said casually, "I've only heard rumors. Cadoc
and Vince have been speculating about it a lot lately."
"What
did they say?" Daukantas asked, watching the fourteen-year-old with the
same expression of annoyance that Pierce wore. Juventas realized why
—
Malik was several years younger than them, but he was clearly higher ranked, and
he knew it. Pierce and Daukantas were
jealous of this boy. His
mind flashed back to the brief conversation at breakfast around a week
ago, when he'd sat with Dyten. Hadn't they been talking about a Malik?
It clicked in his mind. Malik
—
he was the boy being trained by Elder Wintercloud! Juventas studied him
with a slight frown. He didn't look like much: short, muscular, an
infuriatingly smug look on his face. But if he was being trained by Elder
Wintercloud himself, then he must've done something to catch his
attention.
"Cadoc
said his wife Lavinia was talking with some of the other women, that
one of their husbands just died on guard duty. The woman said that his
body was covered in huge claw marks, and that there was barely anything
left to bury," Malik said in a surprisingly nonchalant voice for how
gruesome the thing he was describing was. It made Juventas uncomfortably
aware of his background because only a person raised here could speak
about death that easily.
"Lavinia's
a bitch who doesn't know when to keep her mouth closed. She gossips so
much I'm surprised she has a voice left," muttered a boy that Juventas
didn't recognize, looking to be a few years older than Malik, which
meant he was several years older than Juventas.
Malik
looked at him, the same smile on his face, but Juventas could see the
glint behind his eye. "Might want to be careful what you say, Whistler.
I'd hate for your pretty little face to get bruised from a pair of brass
knuckles." Juventas stiffened, and he could feel the atmosphere get
serious around him as the other boys stiffened too. Everyone could feel
the tension in the air.
"You
threatening me?" Whistler said, standing in a challenge. Malik's lip
turned upward but he didn't move from his spot on the couch, which felt
more like defiance than anything else he'd done.
"Don't
be ridiculous," he said. "I don't need a pair of brass knuckles to beat
you. I don't even own one. But all her brothers do, and I'm not known
for keeping my mouth shut, especially when my brother is married to the
girl you're calling a bitch."
Whistler
moved towards Malik, and Juventas saw Malik's eyes narrow just a
fraction before he was on his feet and they were fighting. Even amidst
the chaos, it was clear Malik was winning. By the time any of the adults
in the room noticed and moved towards them, Malik had the other boy
pinned to the ground and his fist raised above his face.
"Come
on Malik, walk it off you drama queen," a man muttered as he grabbed
Malik by the top of his arm and yanked him off the other boy.
"He called Lavinia a bitch," Malik said coldly, and the man stiffened. He glanced back at the boy.
"That so?" he said, looking up and down the boy with new anger.
"Let go, Gyles. You trying to make my arm fall off?" Malik scowled, and the man, Gyles, let go.
"What's
your name?" He said, walking towards Whistler and hauling him to his
feet. Whistler watched him with anger, but the fear seeping into him was
clear to anyone watching.
"Whistler," he said.
"Well,
Whistler," Gyles said, holding him in a grip that was far too tight,
"let's have a little chat." He practically dragged him from the room,
and Malik seemed to watch with mild interest before sitting down on the
couch again, undisturbed. Malik didn't even look like he'd just been in a
fight, and there were no obvious wounds that suggested it.
"So
Vince's guess is that it's a rogue dragon," Malik continued as if the
entire event hadn't just happened. "One of those ones who's gone mad
after her eggs were stolen or something, and now she's killing any
person she sees as revenge."
Juventas finally found the courage to speak up. "Who was that?" he interrupted. "The man who broke up your fight?"
Malik didn't bother to glance at him. "Gyles. He's one of Lavinia's older brothers."
"So
you think it's a dragon?" Daukantas put in, steering the conversation
back to the attacks on the guards that had only started within the past
few weeks.
"What
else could it be?" Pierce said. "Stupid little thing thinks she can
kill us with no consequences." Juventas didn't voice his thought that
maybe it was the other way around. Maybe it was the riders stealing the
dragon's eggs who thought they could do it with no consequences, and now
she was proving them wrong.
"It
doesn't matter what the dragon thinks," Daukantas said. "If she's
rogue, she can hardly think at all. Dragons who aren't bonded to riders
don't think the same way
—
they don't think in people terms at all because they don't have any
connection to a person's brain and experiences. We're just another item
on the menu to her."
"It,"
Malik corrected. "If the dragon is rogue and just an animal, then
it needs to be killed before it kills more of us."
"Why don't you do it then?" Daukantas said with a half-sneer.
Malik
gave him a smirk that showed he wasn't phased by the taunt. "Why don't
you, Daukantas? You always were wishing you could prove your worth.
Think of all the glory that would come from slaying a dragon! You'd die
before you could of course, but think of what could happen if you
were half as good as you claim to be."
Another
man, slightly younger than Gyles, walked over, one with dark hair the
same shade as Malik's and pale skin the same tone. He pulled Malik to
his feet and put him in a loose headlock. Malik wrapped his arms around
the buff arm and did a maneuver that Juventas could hardly follow, but
somehow, Malik had used his momentum to flip himself up and over the
man. It all happened in a split second, so fast Juventas could barely
comprehend, but it seemed the man could, because as soon as Malik began
the rise into the air to flip over him and out of his grasp, the man
changed his grip and yanked Malik tight against his chest. "Don't try
your stupid acrobatics on me, you idiot," the man said, and Malik
grinned even though he looked like he'd had the wind knocked out of
him.
"You only think they're stupid because you can't do them," he countered. "Now let go."
"Heard
you were causing some trouble," the man said, letting go of Malik and
shoving him back onto the couch. "You know Elder Wintercloud said the
next time you pick a fight, if you don't win, you're getting a huge
whipping."
"What can I say?" Malik grinned. "I'm confident."
"You're arrogant," the man countered. "Come on, we're going to get a drink."
"Who's
we?" Malik asked, standing. He suddenly seemed to have forgotten the
entire group of boys, and Juventas realized with a start that this was
the only time Malik hadn't been smirking or sarcastic. This man must've
been one of the few people Malik actually seemed to care about. Juventas
wondered if there were things like this that he only did with his
sister. Were there any signs that he was never truly happy or
comfortable around anyone else?
"The
brothers, me, you," the man said. "Now hurry up, stupid." He began
walking towards the exit of the room, then glanced backward at Malik.
Malik
grinned at the group. "Gotta go, the beer's calling!" He walked to the
door and Juventas watched as both figures left. That was one of the
other things that didn't settle right with him. He wasn't sure if it was
because of some lesson he'd had as a child that he'd since forgotten or
just the idea of being helpless that he didn't like, but drinking was a
big activity for everybody at the Conclave. If you were fifteen or
older, you could get as many as you
wanted at the bar and no one would stop you unless you started picking
fights with other riders or were flat-out drunk all the time. The age
rule wasn't heavily enforced though, and it wasn't unheard of for older
riders to take younger ones for drinks and give them theirs after they
ordered. Watching Malik, a fourteen-year-old, talk about going to drink
with a group of grown-ups, was just... unsettling to Juventas. He knew
they were likely Malik's family of sorts
—
the man who had come in here was probably Cadoc, now that he thought
about it, and the brothers were probably Lavinia's brothers that he'd
heard of, but still... some part of him was repeating that Malik
shouldn't be drinking at all because Malik was still a kid
— but was he really? He'd been raised as an adult his entire life. Maybe he was more of an adult than a kid at this point.
Pierce
snorted in disgust as soon as Malik was out of the room. "What a
pretentious asshole," he grumbled. "Acts like he's better than
everyone."
"Isn't
he though?" Juventas said without thinking, and he nearly flinched at
the angry glare Pierce shot him. "I mean, he's being trained by our
Elder. There had to be something that caught his eye when choosing him,
right?"
"You
mean how thick-headed and stubborn he is?" Daukantas sneered. "Or how
he's from a long lineage? Malik has nothing going for him but arrogance
that he masks as bravery. It leads to all sorts of stupid mistakes that
never should've happened, but because he keeps somehow miraculously
surviving all of them, he gets worshiped as a saint. Then, his ego gets
a boost, and he pulls all sorts of dangerous stunts knowing nobody
would dare lay a hand on the Elder's precious pupil." Daukantas said it
with such disgust that for a moment, Juventas started to hate Malik,
even if he barely knew him. "It's a cycle. His ego gets a boost, he does
something stupid, he lives, his ego gets a boost."
"Never-ending,"
Pierce agreed with annoyance. "Honestly, I hope he gets knocked down a
peg somehow. That kid needs to lose something for once in his life."
"Maybe he could lose against the dragon," Daukantas smirked. "Get himself killed, see how proud he is of himself then."
"You
really think it's a dragon?" A red-headed boy who hadn't spoken
pondered. "Even with big claw marks, there are tons of other things it
could've been. And there's no evidence about the attacks being planned
or coordinated. They could really just be random animal attacks, some
predator who's realized there's always a warm, tasty meal at the western
gates guard post."
Juventas
thought about this. It made the most sense for it to be some kind of
other animal, something random and uncoordinated. And yet he couldn't
help but let his mind wander...
You always were wishing you could
prove your worth.
And this was the perfect way, wasn't it? Close
enough to the Conclave headquarters to get to the infirmary if needed,
far enough away for it not to be deemed a stupid mistake. Dyten wouldn't
dare throw out a pupil who had slain a dragon, not when it would bring
him glory too. He'd be the rider who taught the dragon-slayer. But the
dragon-slayer... that would be Juventas. He could move up the ranks
quickly, he could be deemed a man. He'd get moved to another room for
sure, start rooming with a single person like the adult riders instead
of being stuck in a room with twenty other boys. His spot at the
Conclave would be reserved for years to come. He wouldn't ever have to
worry about being thrown out again. And even if it wasn't a dragon, if
he still managed to kill it, he'd be stopping the attacks. He might not
be praised as much as he would if it were a dragon, but still... Surely
killing a tiger was enough to qualify as a rite of passage. As long as
he let himself get hurt in the fight... Juventas began to smile to
himself. This could actually work.
Juventas
snapped into the moment as Pierce punched him lightly on the shoulder.
"You look like an idiot smiling like that," he snapped. He was clearly
still pissed about Malik, but Juventas held his smile off.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"Weakling,"
the red-headed boy snorted, and Juventas shifted as he realized why.
Apologies weren't supposed to happen because it was considered a sign
that you had done something wrong, and yet he nearly apologized for his
apology before he blinked and stopped himself.
"Whatever," he said back. "I may look like an idiot, but at least I don't look like
you."
Pierce grinned at the red-headed boy. "Got anything to say to that?"
"I'll kick your ass any day," the red-head said to Juventas coolly.
"You'll have to find me first," Juventas replied, standing and walking to the door.
"Coward!"
He heard one of the boys call from behind him, but they were laughing
as he exited the room. Once he was out, he sighed a little and leaned
his head against the wall. He needed to make a plan
—
but first, he needed to find Jovana and talk to her. He hardly got to
see her anymore, not with Kalief keeping her practically chained up in
their room, but he'd have to find a way. They certainly weren't as close
as they used to be, and every time he visited her, she seemed more and
more distant, less and less in her own head, but he still had to try. He
wasn't going to do something as gutsy as go after a rogue dragon
without at least telling her where he was going first. Out of anyone,
she would be the one who cared the most if something happened to him,
and she deserved to know.
He
let his feet lead him, walking towards the area of the building with
the Wintercloud faction quarters and past the group rooms, towards the
married couples and pairs of roommates. He wasn't sure how he knew which
room was Kalief's, but he stopped in front of one with a certainty
anyway. He must've taken note of it at some point, though he couldn't
remember when. He raised his hand and knocked.
Kalief
opened the door, taking in Juventas with a certain annoyance. He leaned
against his door-frame, pants and no shirt. "What do you want?" He said
shortly.
"Could I speak to Jovana? Just for a minute."
Kalief
watched him with an intensity, and Juventas realized with a sick
feeling that his hair was ruffled, and his pants were pulled on
backward. Kalief smirked as he said, "Come back later. She's busy right
now."
Juventas tried to swallow back the disgust he felt rising in his throat
—
Jovana was fourteen, and this man, Kalief, was... well, a man. Juventas
didn't know his age for certain, but he was older than his younger brother Daukantas, so he had to be at least eighteen.
From the look of him, he was leaning towards twenty, with the same fair
hair and tanned skin as his brother. Jovana hadn't even wanted
to get married, but she hadn't had a choice. And now, if what Juventas
had heard was right, she'd been broken. They'd both been broken. The
only difference was once Juventas was broken, they built him back up
again
— they were letting Jovana stay shattered. He pushed the thought out of his head because of how unnerving it was.
"Wait
—"
he said, and he put out a hand to stop Kalief as he started to shut the
door. "It'll only take a minute, really. She's my sister."
Kalief
narrowed his eyes, then said, "You better hurry." Juventas nodded
quickly, and Kalief scowled, turning around to the room behind him.
"Jovana, come here." There were some noises of scuffling, and a
whispered voice Juventas couldn't make out. Kalief's facial expression
darkened. "I don't care how the hell you look, come here." There were a
few more seconds, and Kalief muttered something unintelligible under his
breath that sounded like some sort of curse to Juventas. "I swear to
the gods if I have to drag you over here, you're going right back into
the cells," he snarled, and Juventas heard the patter of bare feet
against wood as Jovana came into view.
She
was holding a blanket wrapped tightly like a towel around her chest and
body, her eyes trained on the floor. Juventas noticed blue-black
bruises marking her arms and nearly flinched. Dark circles filled the
space beneath her eyes, and when she finally glanced up at him, they
were sunken and vacant.
"I just
—"
Juventas stammered, trying to find his words. He realized how long it
had been since he'd seen her, and though it hadn't felt like that long,
he knew logically that her wedding had been several months ago, and
after that, she'd been locked in her room almost constantly. "I wanted
to talk with you," he said.
Kalief
whispered something in Jovana's ear that she gave an empty nod to,
almost as a reflex. He smirked and twirled a piece of her hair around
his finger before giving her a light push out into the hallway. He
closed the door, leaving the two of them alone.
Jovana
watched him with an empty expression, like she was seeing him without
really seeing him. "It's me," Juventas began, then added, "Juventas."
Jovana
didn't respond for several seconds before she finally seemed to hear
his words and nodded. "You look so old," she whispered, her hands
gripping the blanket around her tightened into fists.
He
nodded, swallowing hard. "I wanted to talk to you because I'm thinking
of doing something impulsive and probably stupid. I just, I wanted you
to know where I was going to be. I wanted you to know in case... in case
something happened."
She
watched him, and he wondered if she was waiting for him to continue, or
if she was staring through him entirely. He cleared his throat.
"There's talk about a dragon. And if I don't do something to recapture
my master's attention
—"
he paused as she stiffened at the word master. It seemed to have
brought her attention back to him, and her dead eyes slid to meet his
once more.
"A dragon," she murmured. "I would've loved to paint a dragon." Juventas felt a part of his heart break.
"Maybe Kalief would get you painting supplies," he suggested weakly, though he knew it was a long shot.
"I would love to paint a dragon," she murmured again, and Juventas frowned slightly.
After
a pause of hesitation, he said, "Okay. Well then I'll make sure to get
you something to paint with." He didn't know why the idea hadn't
occurred to him previously, but he realized with a wave of shame that it
was because he hadn't thought of her in detail in so long. He'd gotten
so used to thinking of her in relation to other people
— his sister, Kalief's wife— that he'd forgotten there was a person underneath.
"I'll
get you paint," he said quickly, cheeks hot from shame. "But first I
have to tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to find the dragon.
Jovana, do you understand? I'm going to find the dragon and kill it. And
when I do, I'll be a man." He reached forward and touched her face
lightly. She flinched under his touch, her eyes watery.
"You
were just a boy," she whispered, one of her hands creeping up to
lightly hold his hand against her face. "Where did you go?"
Juventas
didn't know how to respond, and a few seconds of silence fell on them
as they just studied each other, two siblings ripped from their world
and placed in an alien one. One of them had been reborn, but the other
had crumbled, and looking into each other's eyes, one on fire and the
other dead ash, it became clear Juventas would never know his real
sister again. This wasn't her
— this was her corpse.
Jovana
seemed to become more agitated at his silence, and she said again, "Where
did you go?" Her hold on her blanket tightened even more, and a few
tears fell from her lashes as she whispered, "What did they do to you?"
Her voice raised and she said, "What did they do to us?"
Juventas
backed away a few steps, startled by the sudden outburst, and Jovana
started to cry fully. "They killed my brother," she sobbed loudly, and
Juventas saw the door behind Jovana swing open as Kalief stepped
outside.
"What's going on here?"
Jovana sobbed over his words. "Why would they kill you, you were so little, they
—"
Kalief,
with an annoyed expression on his face, barked at Jovana, "Your brother
is right there. Come on, I think that's enough talking for today." He
grabbed the upper part of her arm in a tight grip and Jovana cried
harder, fighting back.
"They
killed him, they killed my brother," she cried as Kalief began to tug
her inside. "What did they do to you? What did they do to you?!" She
screamed, and Kalief picked her up and pulled her back inside, slamming
the door shut. The noise echoed through the hall, and the muffled sounds
of screaming and sobbing seeped through the walls of their room. A few
seconds later, yelling joined the other noises.
Juventas'
heart fluttered in his chest, and he realized his breathing was heavy.
He felt like he might cry. What had he just done? He hadn't thought
Jovana could've gotten worse, but that... that was so much worse.
What had he done?
He
ran, turning corners and passing groups of riders. He didn't stop until
he reached the armory. He fastened his armor on, a sword around his
belt, a crossbow across his back. He had been so distracted with his own
struggles that he'd never stopped to consider his sister, but now that
he knew what state she was in, he knew it would take a lot of time and
work for her to heal. He'd try to help her, talk to her more often, get
her paint
—
but first, he had a job to do. He was going to find that dragon if it
killed him, and when he got back, he'd describe her to Jovana to paint.
And then he'd finally be a man.
You were just a boy. Jovana's
voice echoed in his head.
Where did you go?
Juventas left to find the dragon.
~~~
Dyten
scowled, glancing out the window as the sun continued its descent
downward. Juventas had been lacking lately, not growing as he should be.
It seemed like he wasn't trying, and no matter what Dyten did, he
wasn't getting better. And now he was late to evening practice, which
should've started twenty minutes ago. At first, Dyten thought Juventas
was just late
—
and if he was, he was going to get the beating of a lifetime. But now,
Dyten was starting to consider going out to look for the kid.
The
entrance to the training room they were supposed to be in, 18b, swung
open wide as Kalief walked in. Kalief's light hair caught in the light,
and Dyten realized it was glistening with sweat. "Already worked out?"
Dyten asked, and Kalief smirked.
"You could say that."
Dyten watched him for several seconds, then scowled and turned away, looking out the window again. Where was that boy?
"Hey,
when your kid gets here, give him a few extra lashes for me. Took me
ages to stop his sister from crying. Whatever he said set her off like a cornered animal." Kalief's voice dripped with disgust, and Dyten watched as he
trailed across the room to a pair of weights, testing them before
picking them up.
"He stopped by your room?" Dyten asked with a frown. Juventas hadn't mentioned anything about that to him. "When?"
"Thirty minutes ago, give or take." Kalief shrugged. "Why?"
"He's
late," Dyten said shortly. "Very late." After a pause, he added, "Do
you know what he talked to her about?" Maybe he'd told her where he was
going.
Kalief
shook his head. "Don't know, don't care. But now Jovana's started
asking for paint when she isn't hysterical. Wants to paint a dragon or
something."
Dyten studied him. "What'd you tell her?"
Kalief snorted. "After the outburst she just had? I said not a chance in
hell am I getting her something."
Dyten glanced away from Kalief, considering the information. "She wants to paint a dragon?" He repeated, and Kalief nodded.
"Yeah.
Keeps asking what happened to her brother too, annoying as hell. She
was standing right in front of him and screaming about him being killed.
She's locked in our room now, probably whispering about how he's just a
boy, not a man yet."
For
someone who had fought so hard to get his hands on Jovana, Kalief
didn't sound like he liked her very much. Then again, that wasn't what
matches were for; they were for beauty and silence and offspring. Dyten
thought on it bitterly. At one point, he'd thought that it would only
make sense for the girl to at least be kept a few years unmarried before
pairing her off, but as soon as Kalief had seen her, he'd hounded
everyone about wanting her. He'd actually gone to Elder Wintercloud in
person about the matter, and he'd finally been rewarded with his
boldness. Elder Wintercloud said when the girl started her cycle and was
a woman, Kalief could have her, and she'd started a little after her
fourteenth birthday. It also didn't hurt that Kalief was the son of Ty, one of Elder Wintercloud's more favored riders.
It
left a sour taste in Dyten's mouth. He knew women had their place, but
Kalief made no attempt to hide his abuse, which annoyed Dyten to no end.
You had to teach your girl their place, but they were also fragile. You
couldn't just push them around all the time like you could with
recruits because if a girl broke, she wouldn't go back to who she used
to be. Dyten had initially thought he might be paired with Jovana
because he was Juventas' master and had grown to expect it, not with
longing or wanting, but with simply expectation. You didn't argue back
with who you were paired with, and at least if he got Jovana, she
wouldn't be like she was now: shattered. Besides, he would've waited
until she was older for an official marriage
— he would've waited until she was ready, he thought.
Dyten's
mind wandered back to thoughts of Jovana's brother, currently
uncharacteristically late, and he started puzzling through Kalief's
words. Jovana had been whispering of how Juventas was just a boy, not a
man yet
—
screaming of him being killed, even though she'd been right in front of
him. And dragons. She'd been thinking of dragons. A dim part of his
brain lit up, and he froze as the muddy memory surfaced. The bar,
overhearing Vince's rather loud conversation with Cadoc. His words had
been slurred and practically unintelligible at that point, but what had
he said? Something along the lines of a dragon? The guard shifts, people
disappearing...
Dyten
jolted upward from where he'd been leaning against the wall as it
clicked. Jovana's mind may have been gone, but her thoughts were still
coherent to a certain sense; she didn't usually mumble nonsense, at
least not to her. It might sound random to others, but if she talked
about something, it was for an important reason, that much Dyten had
observed. And if Vince's theory of the guard shifts being a dragon was
correct, it would explain Jovana having dragons on her mind. But how did
that connect to Juventas?
"Heard you've been watching the recruits," Kalief said, pulling Dyten from his thoughts. Dyten glanced over at him.
"Don't see how it's any of your business."
Kalief
grinned, and said, "I'd just like a heads-up if you're planning to
abandon him on the mountains or the desert. Need time to think of a
reasonable excuse for Jovana so she doesn't freak out. Maybe I'll say
he's gone to live on a nice, quiet farm." He snorted.
"I'm
not going to abandon him," Dyten said, his eyes narrowed slightly.
Sure, Juventas had been doing awful lately, and it was grating on
Dyten's nerves to no end, but Juventas was fourteen. He had the
potential, he just wasn't living up to it, and he was far past the usual
age for being abandoned. Dyten would be looked down on as a rider for
abandoning someone so late, like it was his fault Juventas was doing
that badly.
"You sure? People don't just watch the recruits this time of year if they aren't keeping an eye out."
"I'm sure," Dyten said firmly. "But when I find that kid, he's getting the daylights punished out of him."
"Yeah,
well what can you do?" Kalief sighed. "Not your fault he hasn't done anything
good yet. He barely scraped by as the underdog of the trials his year,
and isn't much better now than he was then. He's nearing that age where pupils
start to get their rites of passage on their first missions, but
honestly, at his rate, I doubt he'll be getting a first mission for a
while."
"What do you know about his
—" Dyten trailed off mid-sentence. The rite of passage. The dragon. Shit.
~~~
Juventas
walked through the forest with his senses on high alert, careful to
watch his step so the snow beneath his feet didn't crunch. The forest
that bordered the Conclave's western edge consisted of tall pine trees,
needles fallen everywhere, and the occasional snow rabbit hopping past.
Most of the bigger animals in the cold climate stayed asleep during the
day and only awakened at night, and the forest was filled with an eerie
silence. The light was fading quickly between the cracks in the canopy
far above. It was getting harder to see where he was going. He knew the
sunset was still at least an hour away, but the knowledge did nothing to
settle the irrational fear that at any moment, he might be left in
sudden darkness, completely at the mercy of the creatures.
He
knew he shouldn't stray too far from the western border because if he
got lost, he wasn't sure he could find his way back. It also seemed to
make sense that if the dragon was picking off guards there, it couldn't
be too far away. His thoughts wandered as he walked, his eyes always
trained for signs of a large creature but his mind on Jovana and Dyten.
Mainly, his thoughts circled the rite of passage. What would it be like,
to finally be treated like a man? Would it feel as good as it sounded?
None of the other boys would dare make fun of him after finishing off a
dragon. Tease him, sure, but no one would make fun of him anymore, and
in his mind, he knew there was a clear difference. As long as he got
slightly hurt, just enough to prove his worth. Just enough to taste
death on his tongue and bare his teeth at him. And then he'd finally be
safe.
He
stilled as the hairs on his neck rose. He wasn't sure what set it off,
but something felt different. After a few seconds, he realized there was
a warmness, a dryness in the air that he associated more with the
desert to the south and east of the Conclave than the mountains to the
north and west. He looked around him, knowing he must be close if the
dragon was sending off heat into the air. He felt a shower of snow fall
on his hair and shoulders suddenly, shockingly cold on his face. Some of
the snow trickled through the armor on his shoulders between the crack
at the neck base and seeped through his shirt and into his skin. He dove
sideways as the trees above him shook and a furious roar filled the
air. It was a deafening sound, and it instilled a strong fear in
Juventas because now he knew for certain: it was definitely a dragon.
And she was angry at him.
He
drew his sword, his neck craned upwards in an attempt to see her above
the canopy. She could clearly sense he was there, and a loud tearing
noise filled the air as one of the tall pine trees was uprooted and fell
sideways, crashing into the snow a few feet from Juventas. He jumped
and backed farther into the forest, but knew it wouldn't matter. If she
could knock down only another tree or two, she could get below the
trees. And once she did that, nothing would stop her razor-sharp claws
from tearing through his skin.
"I'm
not afraid of you!" He said, but his voice trembled. He told himself it
was from the cold. A loud growl echoed through the forest, and another
deafening crack as two more trees fell. The sudden patch of sunlight
made his eyes burn, but he didn't have to wait to get used to it because
the light was quickly blocked by the bared teeth of one of the biggest
dragons Juventas had ever seen. He imagined standing next to her and
realized he'd hardly be as tall as her head. Her scales looked
impenetrable save for her soft belly. Juventas heard a distinct clicking
noise, like stone scraping stone, and leapt out of the way as a column
of fire lit the ground where he had been standing.
He
looked at the snow evaporating into steam, then back at the dragon. Her
head was turned to look at him, a ferocious and wild look in her eyes
that he'd never seen in even the cruelest of Conclave dragons. They'd
all seemed at least a little human with their gazes, but this dragon
— she was pure beast. He held his sword up in front of him, hands shaking. He watched her, made eye contact: and ran forward.
~~~
Dyten
ran as he followed the set of footprints in the snow, tracking Juventas
deeper and deeper into the forest. He heard the sounds of fighting from
far away, the roars of the dragon and the sound of steel armor clanging
against itself. He sped up. That meant Juventas was still alive. Dyten
couldn't help but be angry at him, because what idiot went after a
dragon on their own? His idiot, obviously. Because it was clearly the
cruelest thing fate could think of
— not only was his pupil the one who wasn't progressing, he was also the thick-headed one.
Dyten
entered the clearing, trees fallen on their sides creating an obstacle
course of hiding places and small shelters from the air. The dragon
circled above, wings flapping slowly as she hovered just above the tips
of the canopy, her neck stretching down towards the forest floor. She
had clearly tried to land, but from the scratches on her stomach,
Juventas must've actually gotten a few slashes in. Now though, Juventas
was an open target, unable to reach her but her able to reach him.
Juventas
raised his crossbow and fired, and Dyten watched with surprise as it
actually sank into the dragon's underside. She howled and shot a path of
flames that flickered out against the snow, scorching the tree Juventas
had ducked behind. Dyten noticed that one of his legs was bleeding
badly, leaving a blood-soaked snow trail in his wake every time he
moved. Juventas glanced out from behind his tree, still not spotting
Dyten on the other end of the clearing, and he looked down to reload his
crossbow. He stepped out into the open again and shot once more,
another shot hitting its mark. With a shriek, the dragon dove forward,
claws extended, and in a terrible moment, Dyten knew what was going to
happen. He ran forward, knowing he was acting too late, as a piercing
scream filled the air. Juventas fell, blood streaming from his face
where the dragon's claws had raked across the exposed skin. Dyten raised
his crossbow and fired. The arrow sunk into the dragon's eye and with a
howl that filled the forest, she seemed to tilt slightly in the air,
before she came crashing downward. Dyten dove under a fallen tree,
barely having time to yank Juventas' top half under before she made
impact.
The snap of tree limbs and bones echoed as she crashed onto a group of trees
—
and Juventas' legs. His mouth opened in a silent yell, blood pooling
into his mouth. Dyten watched with horror as he began to choke on it.
Crimson white seeped in a circle around Juventas' head, his chest rising
and falling with quick, unsteady breaths. Dyten could hardly think. On
its own, his body crawled forward.
~~~
The
world was a sea of blackness. The pain was unbearable, and somehow he
knew he was going to die, but all Juventas could focus on was how dark
it was. He was blind. He was
blind. The scrape of the talons
across his face, and then the world had gone dark, and he felt
incredibly vulnerable... alone. His legs were pinned under something
unbearably heavy and he couldn't move. He choked on his own blood,
coughing it up into the coldness around him.
"Juventas!" A voice said, and Juventas struggled to focus. Had he imagined the voice? He couldn't tell.
"Da?"
He whispered. Could you cry if your eyes had been torn out? He didn't know if the liquid flowing down his face was tears or blood.
There was a long pause of hesitation, before the voice replied, "Yes. I'm your da."
Juventas
choked and turned his face to the side, trying to stop the blood from
flowing down his throat. Everything around him burned, even the snow
sinking into his clothes and skin. "Da, I'm so sorry," he sobbed. "They
killed you, you never taught me the secrets, they died with you, you
—"
Juventas coughed, feeling the freezing snow against his cheek. He tried
to imagine the splatters of red, but all he could see was black.
There
was a pause of silence, then his father said, "The secrets never
mattered. If I had truly cared about them, I would've passed them on
earlier instead of keeping them to myself." Juventas could hear the
excuse in his words, like he was trying to reassure him that it was okay
when it really wasn't, and he turned towards him. He reached out
blindly, searching for a hand. He found a wrist instead, and held
tightly.
"Did I kill it?" He asked in a quiet voice, a feverish need pulsing through him with the urge to know.
After another second's pause, his father said, "Yes. Yes, you did."
Juventas
let out a soft sigh, and his grip loosened slightly. "Then I stopped
the attacks." Did this mean he would die a man? What would Dyten think
of him? He'd been the closest to a father figure Juventas had had in
years. "Do you think Dyten will be proud? He'll realize I wasn't a
mistake?"
His
father said softly, a sharp edge to his tone, "It doesn't matter what
he thinks. He's your master, not your family. It's not his job to
care."
The
blackness around Juventas grew heavier with that answer, the heavy
realization that he was right: Dyten wasn't going to care. And maybe
that was okay. Maybe Juventas shouldn't care whether or not Dyten cared.
Dyten had been the most prominent authority figure in Juventas' life
for the past four years, but that was not synonymous with love. His
interest in Juventas, in his life, came from a place of duty, not
emotion, and memories began to flicker across Juventas' mind: lessons of
control, of emotions being weak. They were lessons Dyten had taught,
ones he had clearly believed: so why would he indulge in something so
weak when Juventas really could die so easily? There was more than no
reason for him to care: there were reasons for him to
not care.
And there were reasons for Juventas not to care too. He wasn't going to
make it, that much was clear. So why spend his last moments thinking on a
man who didn't care, when he could spend it with the one man from his
life who had cared?
He
felt himself begin to drift slightly, like a breeze was carrying him
inch by inch farther from his body, and knew he was dying. He'd always
imagined it as a sudden blackness, something overwhelming and sharp, but
this... this felt like the ebbing of water. Almost... peaceful. Maybe
it
was overwhelming for someone who could see. Maybe it was
better this way, dark but... not alone.
"Does death hurt?" He asked quietly.
"It's
different for everyone." His father replied after a second of
hesitation. "And even if it does, you're strong enough to overcome it."
The
reassurance calmed Juventas slightly. He'd been at the Conclave for so
many years that he'd learned fear was weak, and giving in to pain was
even more so
— but if his father thought he was strong enough to
overcome the pain, then he didn't need to be afraid.
"Da, were you ever buried?" Juventas whispered. "Or did they leave your bodies?"
After several moments of silence came the soft answer. "I was buried."
"What
about Jovana?" Juventas asked suddenly. "I promised her paint. I need
to help fix her, help her get better. What will happen to her when I
die?"
There was a sharp intake of breath. "She will continue to live."
"But what about
—"
"She will continue to live, Juventas. That is all anyone can do. Stop trying to distract yourself."
Despite himself, Juventas whispered, "I'm scared."
"I
know," his father said gruffly, before his voice softened slightly.
"But you're stronger than the fear." Juventas felt a hand hesitantly
reach for his hair, smoothing it away from his face and wiping some of
the blood from his forehead.
Juventas
swallowed, tasting the tang of his blood as it slid down his throat. He
tasted death on his tongue, but he decided he didn't want to bare his
teeth anymore. He'd always pictured him as a terrifying face, a glare of
glass that sliced through your soul when he looked your way, but
actually, he looked like his ma. His ma and his da. Their image, after
so many minutes in complete darkness, felt like a warm relief from the
searing cold all around him. His mother extended her arms towards him,
and he ran forward into her embrace, feeling his da gather both of them
in his arms. And after so many years alone, of being constantly on guard
and stranded in a sea of dark, muscled figures with glares of glass,
all Juventas could think of was how nice it was to finally be hugged.
~~~
When
Dyten knew he had died, he sat back on his heels, just staring at
Juventas' face. His eyes had been gouged out, and everything was bloody,
but with his heart stopped, they could at least clean him up for... for
burial. Dyten's thoughts faltered. He didn't know why he'd said he was
Juventas' father. He'd never thought about him like that, and Juventas
had certainly never thought of him in that way. A master was meant to be
obeyed and possibly adored, but not loved. And Juventas hadn't loved
him; Dyten certainly hadn't loved
Juventas. But he'd felt...
responsible. He'd felt responsible for him. Because in a certain way, he
was responsible for this. He'd watched the recruits even though he'd
known he couldn't have one, been rough on Juventas in front of his own
friends because he was angry, said he'd never be a man. And now... now
he never would be.
Dyten
considered what he'd said. He also wasn't sure why he'd said Juventas
had killed the dragon. If Dyten hadn't shot her in the eye, she would
still be circling above right now. It puzzled him because honesty was
the top priority at the Conclave. You didn't lie to spare someone's
feelings; you lied if you needed to keep secrets, or if you particularly
hated someone. But he'd told Juventas he'd killed the dragon, even
though he hadn't. Did that mean he did die a man? Or just a hopeful
child?
None
of the recruits were children, Dyten reminded himself sternly as he
pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He stared at Juventas' mangled
body, his bottom half crushed beneath the dragon, his face hardly
recognizable. He couldn't move him on his own, but he didn't want the
wolves to find their meal in him, so he gently piled snow atop Juventas'
face, covering it until it was deep beneath the cold. He watched as it
turned scarlet between his fingers. The rest of Juventas' body was
covered in armor that would make it near impossible for some wild
creature to eat. He'd be back with more people to retrieve the body, but he couldn't do
anything more right now. He wiped his bloody hands off on the snow,
watching the red imprints of his hands slick over the freezing ground
before he stood.
He
walked beside the path he'd taken only minutes before, the one that led towards the newly made
clearing and the massacre that lay there. The path he walked beside held two
sets of footprints, one large and one small. The trail homeward, a
trail of breadcrumbs to follow, held one.
~~~
Dyten
told everyone Juventas killed the dragon. He hadn't intended or planned
to, but when riders started asking what had happened, he found himself
telling the truth: the truth that Juventas had believed, at least. The
funeral was quiet and passed in a blur, the only true mourner being
Jovana. Kalief dragged her out halfway through when she started crying
too loudly, and by the time he got her into the hall, she was screaming.
None of the boys from Juventas' room had acted moved by his death
—
nobody had. The only words of consolation Dyten received were along the
lines of "it sucks you put so much work into him for nothing." And
Dyten was used to it. It's what he would've told another rider in his
position. He guessed he hadn't ever really considered how empty the
words sounded... vacant.
Within
a month, Elder Wintercloud had assigned a new recruit to him, and when he passed the trials, Dyten
had started the cycle over again because that was what had to happen. He'd
lied to Juventas, but he hadn't lied about that: continuing to live was
all anyone could do. It wasn't a choice or a decision, it just was.
Juventas slaying the dragon would be a topic of conversation for months,
maybe even years, because the most impactful action of all was death.
At the Conclave, you were surrounded by it,
drenched in it. Death
was what defined your life, or lack thereof. If you died facing a
dragon, you were the hero who died by the dragon's claws. If you lived
through facing a dragon, you were the god who had killed it. Stories
like that would be told over and over because they weren't just stories,
they were lessons: lessons to younger riders, to the children who had
yet to start training. To Dyten, who could never step foot in the
clearing again, not even to help retrieve Juventas' body. Juventas may
have been forgotten when years had passed and the blood-soaked snow trail had
been covered, but right then, he was scarred into the memory of Dyten
— of Jovana. He was the death of the weak to Daukantas— to Pierce. He was the newest gossip for Kalief— for Malik. And for a few months at least, he was not forgotten. For just a few months, his story was the tale of the Conclave.
~~~The End~~~
Thank you for reading "Rite of Passage", written by winterwolf0100. If you'd like to leave a comment, question, or review, please do so on this page. For more information on "Rite of Passage", including word count, average reading length, and the lore behind it, click the link below:
Tales of the Conclave
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