Beroan stumbled into Ailmer, scattering petals from the myriad strings of flowers that passersby had been draping over him. Ailmer laughed, playfully pushing the drake away as he regained his balance. It took him several steps on the cobblestone, but he managed to stand back up with his tankard unscathed. “We may have to lay off the cider, drake, before we end up in a trampled pile," Ailmer said.

“But people keep giving it to me!" Beroan protested.

“That doesn't mean that you have to keep drinking it," Ailmer said.

“You haven't stopped." Beroan shot back with a cocky grin.

Ailmer opened his mouth to reply, but shook his head before tipping his cup back to drain more of the strong liquid into his mouth. “Flames, this drake might be smarter than me. Just be sure you can walk alright, and we can take a break when we need to." 

“And find less cider?" Beroan said.

Ailmer laughed, reaching over to give the dragon's flank a smack. “Vile dragon. If Joceus were here, he'd send you right to penance."

“I don't see him. 'Sides, it's easier to explain that I take after Halin's example!" Beroan said with a sly smirk.

“Damn lizard. I knew those stories would give you ideas."

“Oh, they gave me plenty of bad ideas," Beroan replied, his voice lilting in a way that made Ailmer choke on his cider.

Ailmer sputtered, reaching up to wipe his arm on his sleeve, glad for the excuse to hide his blush. Beroan trotted on, his head held high, though it swayed every so often as he stared up at the eaves of the buildings and the faces in the crowd around them. Ailmer took a deep breath and focused on the misbehaving cobblestones below him. The bumpy stones were worn smooth by the passings of countless feet but the granite still threatened to buck him off.

Ailmer managed to keep most of his drink in his tankard as he ran into Beroan's side. However, the drake ignored the soft impact of the distracted mage and the splash of cider over the back of his tabard. His attention, like most others on the street, was focused squarely in front of them at the tremendous monster that traveled the street. The crimson crystals that made up the Ikthil's hide sparkled in the morning light, streaked with thick veins of sickly black. A small crack on the back of the previously-towering monster's skull was the only mark that betrayed the fight that had turned it into a corpse. Thicker cracks were already starting to spread outward along the blackened veins that laced over the creature's hide.

Two exhausted horses pulled the cart that held the Ikthil. The creature's bulk reduced the bumps of the cobblestone to dull creaks from the protesting wheels. The man holding the reins wore an unpainted, scarred breastplate and kept his eyes focused on the castle at the top of the hill, sparing little attention to the crowd around him. After a moment, his eyes flicked down towards the uniformed pair. “Hail, dragon." He growled.

The sound cut through the rumbling of the crowd. Beroan blinked before nodding. “Hail, sharpclaw." 

“The cold wind blows nearer, drake. Steel yourself, your teeth will be needed."

“How far, mercenary? This one, how far?" Ailmer called.

“The frontline, past Artil, near the northern border." The mercenary replied.

“Rolun is closer to the border than Artil, is it not?" Ailmer replied.

“The frontline is at Artil, warrior. Enjoy your brew and ready yourself." He said, whipping the reins to goad the horses on.

Ailmer nodded, steadying himself with a hand on Beroan's shoulder as they watched the cart get swallowed up by the crowd. Chatter and noise refilled the street as the bystanders returned to their business, the matters of the day and the street far more pressing than the news that had Ailmer rubbing his temples. “It begins anew, Beroan." He said.

“It has been burning for many moons, Ail, but it isn't burning here," Beroan answered.

Ailmer took a long breath and nodded, taking another long drink from his tankard. “I suppose it had begun when I first found you." He said.

“Perhaps for you, Ail, but none of us can stop the beginnings," Beroan said.

Ailmer nodded. “I suppose you're right, drake. We may as well enjoy this respite, then."

“My threads tell me that this may be the last for a long time. But my eyes tell me that the person over there in the blacksmith apron is opening up a barrel!" Beroan said, grinning up at Ailmer.

“You're Halin's own spawn, dragon! Lead on."

***

“Falia pity me, I am so full." Ailmer groaned.

Beroan glanced back at the mage, sitting back with a chunk of meat on a stick clenched between both forepaws. A pile of charred sticks sat at his feet, the only remaining bones of their large meal. He took another bite of the steak before mumbling, “Didn't even eat all that much!"

“I'm not a bottomless pit like you, drake. I can only fit so much beef." He said.

“I think you fit bigger things into you than that meat." Beroan challenged back, tearing off another chunk of seared meat.

Ailmer would have choked if his tankard had not been strapped to his belt. He sighed and shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Your mind is a single trail, isn't it?"

Beroan grinned at him, taking a moment to finish off the rest of the food. He chewed slowly, savoring the last bite before dropping the stake back into the pile. “Least I've got room for more cider." He said.

Ailmer chuckled and shook his head, standing up and wobbling. He took a second to steady himself before speaking, “I've had enough for a while. Binding's soonish, I think…" He said, trailing off to measure the sun against his fingers, 

Beroan nodded and stood, taking a moment to stretch in the sun. He bent forward and squirmed in a catlike display of flexibility. Ailmer watched with a hint of hunger in his eyes as Beroan shifted his hips from side to side, before opening his muzzle to give a long, tongue-curled yawn. One eye opened as he splayed his forepaw digits over a rounded cobblestone, looking up at Ailmer. “Wazzit?" He rumbled.

Ailmer chuckled and shook his head. Beroan cocked his head, but Ailmer offered no explanation. “Come on, drake. We'll head that way since I'm sure you'll end up distracted by a few things on the way."

“That's not fair!" Beroan huffed, swinging around to trot off towards the walls. Ailmer waited a few moments for the dragon to figure out he was going the wrong way. Beroan huffed to himself, continuing for a few more steps before swinging back around, slinking back to Ailmer's heel. Ailmer chuckled, reaching down to pat the dragon's neck, partially to touch the drake but practically to steady himself as he started to lead the way back into the crowds. “It's nothing bad, just a prudent precaution," Ailmer said.

“Prudent?" Beroan asked.

“Means, ah, wise or careful. But it starts with the same sound, so it flows off the tongue a little better." Ailmer explained.

Beroan snorted.

“What's that?" Ailmer asked.

“Too much cider. I know there's a way to turn 'flows of the tongue' into something that will make you blush." Beroan rumbled.

Ailmer snorted and gave the drake's neck a playful smack. Beroan turned his muzzle up to grin insolently at the mage. “Damn drake, right?" Beroan said.

Ailmer nodded and turned his eyes back up to plot a path through the throng of people that still crowded the streets. They were thick here, even on the side roads they were pushing through. Ailmer had begun to remember his time in Damsk and the flows of traffic were coming back to him. He knew this path was a well-known shortcut between two of the main streets. It had become even more infamous in his absence, however, and now the tight street was crammed with people that tried to squeeze by the various tables and stands that had been set up to capitalize on the crowd. Ailmer didn't feel like trying to push his way through the jam, however.

He turned off, glancing down an alley to make sure he was remembering the area correctly. It looked familiar; like everything else in the town, the stones and the buildings hadn't budged but every accessory and accouterment that decorated the streets was different now. He took a moment to look down at the dragon by his side; his teeth gritted together as the same feeling twisted his stomach. Green, blue…He was still a dragon, but it was so much different now.

Beroan turned his muzzle to bump into the side of Ailmer's leg. “Ail?" He asked.

Ailmer blinked a few times before nodding, turning to lead the way down the alley. “I was just thinking. It's been a long time since I've been in this part of the city, so I was just trying to make sure we were going in the right direction." Ailmer said.

“Not that, Ail," Beroan said.

Ailmer sighed and nodded. “Everything's different now, Beroan."

“All moments are different, Ail," Beroan said.

Ailmer nodded. His hand reached down to stroke along the dragon's neck as they headed toward the center of town.

***

“Ail! Oooh, I want one of those." Beroan said.

Ailmer glanced over, following the dragon's gaze before his cheeks tinted red. “What are-Beroan, you know what those are for?"

Beroan nodded before he bounded forward. Ailmer reached out to grab the drake and hold him back, but his fingers were far too slow to preserve the dragon's long-gone innocence and his own embarrassment. Ailmer only groped at empty air. He stumbled forward, then sighed. He managed to catch up with the dragon in front of the stand.

Leather goods, pouches, straps and other useful objects were piled over the top of the stand. Practicality, however, wasn't what got Beroan's attention. Collars and harnesses, woven of leather and cloth and decorated with metal buckles hung on wooden display racks and stole the dragon's avaricious attention. The merchant wore a wide smirk as he watched the pair approach, especially considering Beroan's eager gaze. "Fine leather, crafted in Port Arvel. Fit well for dragons or other beasts of burden. You look a strong one there, green, surely you could pull the plow far better than the warrior with you. Saddlebags, too. Let him take some of the load off you, friend." He explained.

"I think we've got plenty of the practical things, kind merchant," Ailmer said.

“I'm sure you'll find everything I have to be quite practical!" He protested.

“I think the drake just likes the look of them, though," Ailmer said, trying not to admit that he'd like the look as much.

Beroan nodded, carefully looking over the collars. He reared up on his hind legs to place his big forepaws on the top of the table with a motion that made the merchant jump back. He shook off his surprised, putting his salesman grin right back onto his lips as Beroan reached his neck up to nose at one off the collars. “What do you think of this one?" Beroan asked.

“It looks, uh, strong," Ailmer replied.

Ailmer blinked at the dragon's choice, but the merchant replied before he could continue. “You're welcome to try it on." He said, “That one's only a castle. It's a bargain for the workmanship!"

Beroan nodded eagerly, and Ailmer reached up to grab the weighty thing to strap it around the drake's neck. He fiddled with the heavy iron buckle before leaving the collar snug against Beroan's long neck. The dragon turned to try to look back at the weight on his neck but soon gave up. He managed to stumble in a drunken half-circle to look back up at Ailmer.

Ailmer was no student of fashion, but he bit his lip. The thick strip of dark leather contrasted against the dragon's scales. The smokey iron buckles and rings were well defined against Beroan's green hide. He'd even thought that the thick collar might be too wide for the dragon's neck, but the chunky collar was large enough to look big against the male's long neck without being out of proportion. He was immediately reminded of his time in the mill; the collar looked much better on him than a simple hemp rope. Ailmer fished for words that wouldn't embarrass them in front of the other human, but he finally managed to settle on the practical. “It looks good on you. Does it fit well?" Ailmer said.

Beroan's muzzle split into a grin. Ailmer was worried that he might take the neutral response the wrong way, but the devious flash of teeth made it perfectly clear how the dragon had taken the statement. “It doesn't twist or anything, but it's pretty heavy." He said.

“Too heavy? I have some smaller ones, they're a bit lighter, right here." The merchant said, gesturing to another rack of collars.

Beroan turned his muzzle back up to Ailmer, a predatory grin spreading across his muzzle. “I like it."

***

It was a strange feeling, watching time stand still for someone else. Ailmer watched, almost as transfixed on Kieran as the young soldier was on the eyes of the scarlet dragoness that had nuzzled into his palm. Their gaze was locked as surely as steel chains in the center off the crowded city center. The pair seemed as much a fixture of the square as the stone buildings that surrounded the open air.

The hundreds of dragons that spiraled around the square in the sky seemed to hold still for the barest moment, sunlight sparkling off the rainbow of prismatic colors that crowded the blue from the sky. Packed throngs of people inhabiting the square paused in midstep, their shadows covering the smooth-worn cobblestones that held up the city like jagged burn marks. The cacophony of voices, of the yells of those people trying to push past the guards towards the center, halted for the barest heartbeat. 

Those in fine clothes holding their children up over the arms of the pushing guards and those in rags that tried to pull themselves past their shields came to peace for the tiniest moment, all hoping in vain that their proximity to the horde of dragons in the center of the square would influence the thick lines of magic and grant them the sort of power that only legends bring. The river of magic, however, cared little for their thoughts of political power, of rank, of desire; it skipped over princes and paupers alike to tie this young warrior and this fiery dragoness together to the strands of fate that held the stars to the sky.

The powerful shock of the magical binding touched every soul there. Only Ailmer and the dragons took notice.

The not-moment was over as timelessly as it had begun. Beroan found his chin lifted, a deep roar tearing itself from his throat to join with the cry of every other dragon on the ground or in the air. The sudden and primal rumble caused many of the humans below to startle, but the din of the crowd was hardly disrupted by the momentous event. Even those closest to the newly bound pair slipped around them, each still focused on the other creatures that weaved through the crowd or collected in the center of the square.

Flowers, beads, and other offerings splashed over the dragons as they instinctively followed their magic through the throng of people, vain offerings to try to tempt the world's favor. Ailmer felt a handful of beads bounce off his side, thrown against the green dragon beside him, but his eyes were too focused on the magic that wove through the square. The ley lines were thick here and his threads, as atrophied as they were, quivered with the energy that brought the gathering of dragons together. Beroan's eyes were wide open, his mouth agape as he took in the colors and the overwhelming instinct that drove so many dragons to gather here. That powerful pull was even enough to gather mundane humans, to make them cry out with strange, intense feelings as great breezes of magic and twists of threads washed through the crowd.

Another not-moment froze Ailmer's heart in his chest. There, a brilliant white dragon, his snout brushed by the opal petals of a lily, clutched in the hand of a young girl. The magic of the world shuddered again and Ailmer felt their powerful strands brush across his own. These lapped over his fate, acknowledging but not tangling.

All of these threads reverberated as if strummed by the gods themselves. Deep, powerful thrums echoed rhythmically over the crowd and pounded in Ailmer's chest. Dragon paws stepped down onto cobblestones, matching the tremors that spread from the booted heels of fated humans.

The thunder of another roar cut through the square, pulling the crowd to once again face time. Ailmer glanced to his side, watching Beroan as his eyes flicked through the crowd, taking in the cacophony and the unpleasantness of the crowd with eager interest. He was enthralled with the spectacle, even as another pause froze Ailmer's vision on the dragon beside him.

Ailmer wasn't able to spot whatever pair had bound at that moment, but worrying thoughts rushed through him. What if this dragon beside him was caught up in the magic? What if he locked eyes with another mage, as Ailmer had done so long ago, and time froze for them? What if he was left here, in a city he no longer knew, on a mission he had long refused, with an anemic trickle of power that could barely light a candle?

What if Beroan's fate was wholly separate from his own?

Another roar made Ailmer jump, his eyes turning up to the spiraling cloud of dragons above them. They flowed in unison, flying closer together than any one of them would have otherwise considered, causing the town below to flash with their spread-winged shadows. One dived from the unconscious formation, turning to spiral down towards the throng of people. It pulled up at the last moment, arcing up to land on top of a short building on the outskirts of the courtyard. Tendrils of dust wormed into the air, frozen in the sunlight as the black dragon locked eyes with a terrified, hooded figure on the roof.

Another roar echoed over the town.

Ailmer stumbled against Beroan, reaching out with a trembling arm to hold himself off the drake's back. Beroan glanced back at him; Ailmer was exhausted. The feeling of so much magic, of so many threads echoing through his being, and the simple emotional intensity of the day had caught up to him. His limp fingers grabbed at Beroan's scales and he felt himself panting as he tried to shift up his leaden arms. 

Ailmer managed to work his way back up to standing, but another skipped heartbeat and roar echoed through his skull. He shook his head, dropping into a crouch beside the drake next to him, leaving one achingly weak arm resting across the drake's shoulders.

Beroan glanced back again, his brow creased with worry as he looked over the mage. He sat down, glancing nervously back at the shifting crowd around them, but his bulk was enough to guarantee them a tiny island in the tides of the square. “Ail?" He asked.

Ailmer was forced to yell to overcome the din around them. “Fine, 's fine! Just tired, too much magic!" 

Beroan bobbed his head before his muzzle opened wide and another roar tore itself from his throat. Strands of spittle splattered across his face and upper chest as the dragon roared in his face, and Ailmer was left blinking as the noise echoed in his ears. Beroan's muzzle snapped shut and his eyes widened as he realized what he'd done. “Ail, oh, shards, I'm sorry, it just—" He began before time shuddered again.

Ailmer managed to duck the dragon's yell this time. Beroan bit his lip as his muzzle snapped shut again, the drake turning his head back to the crowds. In lieu of eye contact, he unfurled a wing, pulling Ailmer in against his side.

Ailmer glanced around the square again, pressing himself against the dragon's warm side. He looked around; there'd already been an inordinate number of bindings today. He felt like he should be proud like he had been when he was still training the riders, when every binding meant another entrant to the academy. He felt like he shouldn't have lost count of the bindings already when he had breathlessly counted each one in his life that had long past.

But now, each shock of the bindings was another echo along his threads that reminded him of all he had lost.

Ailmer fought his aching arms and trembling legs to push himself back up, standing beside the drake. Beroan's wing still draped over his shoulder. His hand rubbed along the dragon's back, partially to thank him, but mostly to disguise how much he was still pressing on the dragon's back to steady himself.

The crowd still churned around them, but the chaos had backed off. There hadn't been another binding since Beroan had hidden Ailmer behind his wing. The mage looked up to see the swirling cloud of dragons starting to shed members. One by one they spiraled off over the city, lost past the rooftops around them.

The crowd had lost its energy as well. There was less pushing and the general din of the crowd had quieted; no longer were the waves of people focused on the center of the square. Their attention had drifted to the new pairs and the few dragons that were still wandering the ground. Beroan, in the standard of Galast, avoided most of the attention that was focused on the unaffiliated dragons that worked through the crowd. “Are you through, Ail?" Beroan turned his head back to ask.

Ailmer nodded. Thankfully, Beroan took the first steps towards the roads leading away from the square, parting the crowds for Ailmer. “How many?" Ailmer asked.

“Fourteen!" Beroan answered, happily, “Is that very many?"

Ailmer blinked. It took him a moment to think back, “Unheard of."

Beroan nodded, his tail lashing around behind him as he looked up at the dissipating cloud of dragons overhead. “I guess it felt like there was a lot of magic around. Why do you think there were so many?"

Ailmer stayed quiet for a few moments. He had studied bindings as much as he could, but there was very little concrete information on them; they happened rarely—he could only think of a few examples outside of the festival here, and most of them were from draconic legend. He did know, however, that it took a tremendous amount of magic to happen. It wasn't clear whether it was consumed or not, but he wasn't surprised that being near that much power and that many threads had worn on him. “It's difficult to know the flow of magic." Ailmer said, “Come on, Beroan, let's head back. I expect Hal will want to discuss the newcomers."

Beroan carefully stood. They could both feel it; the cloud of dragons was little more than a flock now and the crowd's energy had turned from an emotional rush to the simple clamor of a crowded street. Ailmer did his best not to stumble on the smoothed cobblestones, keeping a hand on Beroan's back to steady his walk. His legs ached, but he could already feel his body starting to recover. “I've never seen so many dragons, all from different clans, too," Beroan said.

Ailmer nodded as he led the way towards the same street that had brought them there. He was thankful for Beroan's company as he kept the pressure of the crowd at bay as he stumbled along, cursing the weakness that throbbed in his legs. “There were a great many. Many more than there used to be; I'd no idea that so many clans were on good terms with the humans."

“Is it not always like this?" Beroan asked.

“Not often. You know how much most dragons value their distance from others. Not all, but most; how often did your clan visit others?" Ailmer asked.

Beroan nodded. Ailmer thought he saw a flash of a frown across the dragon's muzzle as he looked away, his eyes flicking over the crowd around them. Ailmer was so unused to reading dragon expressions—he'd never had to before.

They continued in silence for a few moments longer. “What do they eat?" He asked.

Ailmer blinked, glancing back to the dragon. “The other dragons? Same as you, I'd expect."

Beroan shook his head. “No, no. They don't have any coins or anything, right? Seems like they'd need a lot of food, even if they're only here for a day or two."

Ailmer chuckled. “Well, you'll notice how many people offered you food? It's traditional to feed them, but many of the dragons don't stick around for more than the ceremony. However, the royals always set aside some coin for those that lose livestock on the outskirts of the city."

Beroan nodded. “Cows are pretty tasty."

Ailmer chuckled, “I wouldn't make it a habit of snacking on ones that don't belong to you. Farmers can get pretty irate about it."

“Sometimes it happens," Beroan said, flashing a grin.

Ailmer thought back to roasting a side of beef over a dragon's flame. He remembered the stars twinkling, the forest quiet, and the cold mountain air being kept at bay by the flank of a dragon and the long whooshes of flame from his muzzle. A small smile turned up the corners of his face; not even the memory of the poor farmer, crumpled in a corner of his home and half eaten by a gem monster could banish it.“Yeah. Sometimes it does." He said.

***

Kerian felt more out of place here than he had when he had first entered training for the army. He was the only one from the Galast army lined up in front of Ailmer; excepting one older farmer that had served his conscription half a lifetime ago. On his left was one of the stuck-up nobles that sneered at him the same way he would have in the street and on the right was a nervous man that kept glancing at Ailmer's uniform like he was expecting a club. 

The noble's profession was inscrutable to Kerian, but the thief was inexperienced enough to wear his work on his belt. Kerian had spotted a set of short knives meant for buttons worn on the inside of his rope belt; he had no idea why he'd wear that to something like this. Kerian knew the thief would be pardoned if they had any posters out for him. After all, Kerian had escaped his cell by bargaining with the army. He had no doubt that this thief was a damn sight better than him, though. Kerian had been caught after he'd lifted his first book.

The black dragoness next to him squirmed as the thief quailed under a direct stare from Ailmer. The noble had absorbed the same stare with no outward show, but his dragon had shrunk back enough for them both. At least the expensive fox-fur draped over his shoulders had hidden his flushed face.

Kerian shifted forward, pushing himself enough to see past the people on either side to the end of the line. There was even a child there, a young girl and her ivory dragoness. Kerian knew she wouldn't be fighting with them, but from the talk he'd overheard, she already had her place in the mage's academy. The dragoness was saddled as the rest of them. Kerian had no idea how wise that was. Her parents would be biting their nails the whole time.

A sudden firm glance from Ailmer bit into him. He shrunk to the side, pressing in against the flank of the dragon he'd met but had known all his life. Cymris pressed back, her crimson scales standing firm as she braced for Kerian. He snapped back to attention and Ailmer's gaze drifted away again.

He remembered being there for much of her life. He knew the drive she needed to be the first of her age to drop her stone on the ancestral pile at the peak of their mountain and how unshakeably she'd weathered the scolding from her kin when she'd returned from the dangerous journey. He knew how her heart swelled when they returned the next day and celebrated her achievement and how good the hunt that day had been.

She had known him just as long. She'd mentioned Jake, Kerian's old friend who he'd collected rocks with from the brook near his family's home, in reference to her own clanmates that she'd grown near to. He could feel the same wound in her heart when she talked about how far she'd gone and what she'd returned to when she had come back to her clan. She had compared it to the burned home that Kerian had made it back to, and her own clan had mirrored the tight-lipped townsfolk that had refused him answers.

Perhaps that was part of the reason magic had deigned to tie him to Cymris. He could already tell that the wiles of the mystical force were far beyond him. It was overwhelming, the power. He was flooded with it, almost intoxicated, from the moment that he'd felt the world jump when Cymris landed in front of him. He'd touched his threads before, but he could feel the power pouring between his link with the dragoness. 

Where he'd struggled to light a candle before, Kerian had effortlessly lit a candle on his desk the night before with such vigor that he immolated the whole tabletop. Cymris had snuffed the flame with a wave of her paw and a gust of wind; Kerian had weathered her admonishment of his skill thankfully as he gathered the serviceable paper scraps from around the room. 

“We have stories of him, Firebrand." Cymris's voice rang out in his head, clear as a bell.

Kerian nodded, his reply coming as easily as he'd move his arm. “We have a great many. Your kin fought alongside him, Cym?"

“Many did. The war took its toll, even on our clan. But, his dragon was said to be blue?" She asked.

“Yes, they say he was blue, but he fell in battle."

“Was he not bound, then? You feel it already, don't you?" She asked.

Kerian didn't have to answer. He could feel her curiosity leaking over into him, and he could feel the threads that linked him to her. Already, Kerian knew that he wouldn't be able to survive without her. He could feel her grip the cobblestones underpaw; the sensation wasn't as strong as if he were touching the cool stone himself, but it was very distinctly there. They were part of each other now. Asking him to survive without Cymris would be akin to asking him to survive without his bones.

They both left off the conversation, watching Ailmer drill. Kerian caught his words, and most of his mind focused in on the finer points of riding and magic that Ailmer was explaining. However, he could see the mage in a new light. He'd seen him as a powerful mage on the journey from Mossley, but if he had been able to tap into a dragon, like Kerian could now, the stories of him washing entire hills with flame and holding hordes of Ikthil back became much more believable.

Beroan was a strange dragon. He kept himself close to Ailmer, but it was obvious that they were not held together by magic. He could feel the drake's mere presence tugging on his threads. Kerian had been able to sense the power of creatures around him more since the binding, but Beroan's subtle tugs on his magic were enough to poke through the background noise of all the other people around him. It was almost as if he'd found a new sense; that he had begun to smell or taste after living his whole life with no perception of the concept.

Ailmer paused in front of the line with Beroan close by his heel. He began to speak and the new riders stayed dutifully silent. His position, some history; all things that Kerian knew. The nobles raised eyebrows, and to Kerian's surprise, the thief's jaw dropped as Ailmer stated his title. There were mutterings of disbelief, but Ailmer quashed them; they were not here to discuss him, simply to learn to scout.

***

“Left, other way, Ah! Don't grab my wing like that!" Cymris hissed.

Cymris squirmed underneath him as Kerian tried to settle into the saddle. She wasn't used to the straps and she wasn't used to having a human clambering over her. “But I need to get my foot-Aaah!" Kerian yanked his hand back from the dragoness's wing base and lost his footing on the side, ending up in a heap on the dragoness's left.

Cymris turned her head to the side, clicking her tongue at his display. “I certainly hope you don't try to mount me like that all the time. Be easier to grab my tail instead of my wing, though." She rumbled in his head.

Kerian blushed, despite himself. He could hear the other dragons and riders mumbling back and forth, but there was a subtle difference in the back of his mind that signaled out that comment as a whisper rather than a statement. Kerian focused on that feeling, trying to send his reply back the same way. “If the saddle's all the way up there, what's your tail got to do with it?"

“You'll find out tonight." She said, her muzzle splitting into a grin.

Kerian's face turned bright red. His heart pounded in his chest as he glanced between the dragoness and the other rider pairs. He'd never; they wouldn't, but she was… “Cym, I, but… You don't mean…" He managed, trying to pick himself up and keep working like they weren't having this conversation.

Cymris felt the embarrassment through their magic, but she knew that neither of them could lie about the other feelings that they'd been sharing. It had been chaotic, yes, and they'd been weathering the deluge of each other's emotions since the binding a bare day ago, but they could both feel it. “Our clan has a great many stories about the things that happen between bound pairs." She said.

The subtext that Kerian felt accompanying the statement only made him blush harder. He busied himself fiddling with the straps, mostly so he had an excuse to hide his face against the side of the dragoness. He struggled to find his thoughts, but he found that he was too curious to tell her off for her impropriety. “They tell stories like…like that?" He asked.

Cymris's grin only spread wider. She leaned in to bump her muzzle against the side of Kerian's neck—a move calculated to look like a nudge to make him attempt to climb up again but entirely designed so she could blow a hot breath over the side of his head. “Late at night, with close clanmates and busy claws." She said.

Kerian grunted as his foot slipped out of the stirrup again, slamming his heel into the cobblestone. He glanced to either side, shaking his head. “Cym! Not now!" He managed to think back.

His face burnt red as he noticed some of the dragons glancing up at him. Cymris gave him a very slight wink as she bit her lower lip playfully, sending his heart pounding again. “Did you mean to say that out loud?" She teased.

Kerian pushed off the curious stares with a few quick and pointed glares. “Shut up, Cym! I'll deal with you later." He said.

“I'm sure you will." She said, pairing her statement with a hungry growl.

Kerian shook his head, clenching his mouth shut as he mantled onto the dragoness's back again. He grabbed the saddle this time and finally managed to get himself situated, doing his best to ignore the smirking dragoness under him. She knew she'd won; Kerian had surrendered with his silence. He was doing his best to ignore the burning passion that spilled over from Cymris.

Eventually, the whole line was mounted in front of Ailmer, excepting the child and her dragon, who'd taken to playing near the garden. She perched on top of her dragon as she noticed the motion, pointing towards the mounted line. Kerian returned his attention to Ailmer, who looked every bit the warrior on top of Beroan. His eyes flashed with a different energy than Kerian had ever seen before, and he found that he could feel Ailmer's power. It wasn't the power of a powerful mage, but it was something more subtle, something deeper, but it still tugged on his…strands? His magical power; he'd heard some of the mages use references to 'threads' before.

Ailmer's glaive flashed in his hands, braced against his forearm and looking as light in his fingers as a whip. Light flashed off the bare, ornately inlaid blade with the tiniest motion, giving the weapon a dazzling presence as it danced while he talked through the finger points of balancing on a drake or clenching your legs to hold on, of the ways that a pair could feel each other during flight.

It was too technical for Kerian. He could feel the gist of the explanations, but he knew he could trust Cymris to fly and he was too giddy to follow. He was going to fly atop a dragon; he'd come a long way from riding sticks and making whooshing noises with his mouth. He'd be cutting clouds today, in a way he'd only ever dreamed of.

Cymris shared in his excitement. He was still feeling out her desires, her thoughts, but she reacted to their discussions of flying into battle with the same excitement that tinted Kerian's voice. It only served to heighten the other kind of excitement that was also flowing through their empathetic bond, but it all washed together in crushing waves of anticipation that left both their hearts pounding like battle drums. Excitement whooshed in Kerian's ears, only growing as he watched Ailmer launch into the sky, light shimmering off his blade and the green dragon's scales.

“Are you ready, Firebrand?" Cymris asked.

“Let's-"

The rest of Kerian's words were lost in the rush of wind as they shot towards the sky. The chilly wind whipped across Kerian's naked face, but his euphoria kept him warm. He scrambled to grab onto the loops of the saddle before he lost his seat as he felt the dragoness's strong back work under him. Her powerful wings dragged them faster through the sea of air with each pump. Kerian blinked the water from his eyes as he crouched down on the dragoness's back, glancing over her side.

He'd never seen the town like this before. He could see the landmarks, but even the Lighthouse looked like a toy from here. The crowded buildings jostled for position as if each building that went up on the outskirts pushed the rest of Damsk together. He spotted the castle on the hill, the walls protecting the last vestiges of space left in the town from the wood and stone invaders outside. The sun glinted off the river and Kerian felt a new appreciation for the water; as powerful as he felt on the ground, the water still cut through the plains and split the city in half.

The plains were full of swarming specks. A mass of people worked their way towards the usually-sparse plains. A tremendous pile of wood jutted out of the amber fields, the area around it cleared by tromping feet as the snaking lines of the crowd's travel brought them towards the great bonfire. Cymris craned her head to watch the pile as they drifted towards the scene. “Look, Firebrand. Looks like your desk from here."

Kerian snorted, “Cym, I said I was sorry. How can you tell, though?"

“There are humans with lit torches." She replied.

Kerian leaned in a bit more as if the extra few fingers of distance would give him an edge. They were barely close enough for Kerian to distinguish individual forms. He noticed a flicker or a glint of light from the edges of the lumber pile. “Ah, there." He said, before blinking, “Cym, how far away do you think the bonfire is?"

Cymris turned to glide for a short distance directly towards the pile, before wheeling back again to keep some sort of proximity towards Ailmer. “I'd say three, four miles?" She said.

Kerian squinted again, carefully watching their forms. He could distinguish individual specks, but he couldn't tell if they were moving or not. He thought back to a hill that overlooked the farmhouse he'd grown up in. That was only two miles or so from the house, but he couldn't remember being able to pick out individual trees, much less people. The more he thought about it, the stranger it became; it was almost like the world had been more vibrant and colorful. Kerian had chalked it up to his excitement and mood from binding with Cymris, but that was too much to be due to his emotions.

He watched the flickering lights fly from their specks onto the wood. It took a great many of his speeding heartbeats before he watched smoke start to curl into the air as the flickering glints spread. He watched in amazement as he watched waves of red and yellow spread across the surface of the bonfire before finally enveloping the whole thing in brilliant flame. His body pulled him closer into towards the saddle before he could even think about it. “Firebrand, watch this!" He heard.

The world turned above him as if it were ready to collapse on him. They fell into the sky. He leaned his shoulder into the wind as they corkscrewed, turning the clouds into islands in a land of blue. She turned one way, then the other, dropping down towards the azure land. Her wings stretched out to cut swathes out of a fluffy white cloud. Kerian's laugh spread the taste of the icy cold fog across his tongue as it whipped past his face. He let go of the saddle, spreading his arms out to catch the clouds.

He brought himself down after a few more seconds in the thin air, his arms sliding into the saddle's loops as his instincts anticipated Cymris's next adjustment. Her wings pumped again, her body folding in the air before they shot back down towards the city. His body fought to lift away from the dragoness's back, but he clenched down to hold himself secure. He could feel her back pumping underneath his thighs, the thick muscle rippling and grinding along his legs. They didn't need to say anything now; their hearts pumped as one and Kerian could feel his strength pouring into the dragon and her energy pouring back. Their flight was effortless and their elation boundless.

They dropped straight down towards the city fast enough that Kerian found himself light headed. He clenched his thighs down tighter onto the dragoness, but he felt her wings stretch and angle to slow them enough to keep the pounding in his skull at bay as the town lazily rotated below them. “Look Cym, there's the rest of them." Kerian thought.

The rest of the dragons were flitting around near the courtyard. Kerian could pick them out. The Noble's gaudy riding uniforms were easy to spot against the backdrop of the earth-tone town. They were fighting their dragons, tugging and pointing as they unsteadily drifted over the courtyard. The thief was higher up and his black dragon was making a few experimental swoops. The others were making progress and Ailmer was making a few more complicated maneuvers. “They don't fly as well as you, Cym."

“They ride far worse than you, Firebrand." She said, flaring out her wings to halt their descent.

Kerian felt his whole body push down against the saddle and her back as they lost speed, his ers whooshing as blood pushed back up to his mind. He blinked away a few spots as his body readjusted. Outside of the chill, it only took a few more breaths before he was comfortable again.

They were still above most of the group, but the clouds floated far above them. Kerian craned his neck to look over the dragoness's side, amazed as he picked out details on the buildings. His eyesight was sharper now, it had to be—He could pick out carts on the street and people's clothing from here. He turned his eyes back towards the other riders, watching Beroan swing up, looking almost like he was trying to replicate the corkscrew climb that Cymris had put him through. He gasped as he watched Ailmer's small form separate from the dragon's, flailing in the air. “Cym!" Kerian yelped, his words lost to the wind.

Cymris had been looking the other way, but before the cry was out of his mouth she dipped down, diving towards Ailmer. She turned her head back to identify the falling human and Kerian crouched tight to the dragoness's back. Cold air whipped them as she shot through the sky, trying to catch up with Ailmer's flailing form.

Beroan had turned, but he had too much momentum to shed from his climb to reach Ailmer in time. He was gaining speed, but it was obvious that he'd be unable to reach the falling human. Kerian gritted his teeth as they dove, feeling extra wind pushing on them from behind as Cymris cast. They began to gain on Ailmer, but the ground was rushing up towards them faster.

“There!" Kerian thought.

He reached out as Cymris cut their dive, braking in the air as they shot underneath Ailmer. Kerian's hands reached up towards the mage, groping at empty air before he managed to curl his fingers around handfuls of canvas. Ailmer's eyes shot open as he felt Kerian's hands…and the impact. Cymris yelped out, their flight wavering as they dropped a frightening few feet as she tried to absorb Ailmer's momentum.

Cymris's hindpaws grazed the corner of a roof, and she was forced to bank to the side to avoid another wall. Kerian tightened down his grip, leaning forward to lay over Ailmer to keep his winded form pinned against Cymris's back as she twisted and turned. She growled, and a sudden gust of wind pushed them up, giving them enough clearance to rise up over a block of buildings and tumble over the fence into the academy's courtyard.

The next few seconds were a blur of dust, cobblestone, limbs, and speed. Kerian found himself in an aching pile, hips over his head and his now-bruised back resting against the base of the statue in the center of the courtyard. Cymris rumbled, squirming a few feet away on the ground as she clawed her way to her feet. Kerian dropped himself to his side, ignoring the bruises and the sensation of heat from various scrapes, to rush over to Ailmer's prone form. 

He wasn't moving; Kerian stumbled over, reaching down to roll Ailmer over. His form stirred and he reached up to push Kerian off, shifting to sit up. He groaned, reaching up to hold his bruised shoulder with a scraped hand. “Ailmer, sir, are you okay?" Kerian asked.

Ailmer took a long, deep breath, before turning to look at Kerian. Their eyes met and Kerian saw a deep anguish burning in the mage's eyes. “All these years, I thought I'd been ready to be thrown over the cliffs." He said.

The tone of Ailmer's voice carried with it a pain that Kerian could hardly imagine. He stood and reached down to offer Ailmer a hand up. Ailmer looked at the outstretched hand for a moment, before he reached up to clasp it. “Thank you." He muttered as Kerian hauled him up.

The rest of the dragons had begun to land, their riders jumping off to look over the scene. Several stumbled and Kerian watched one of them fall off their dragon's back as they hit the ground. His aching body reminding him that, technically, their landing had been more graceful. Beroan reached the ground in the middle of the rest of the landings and rushed over to Ailmer. “Ail, I…" He started.

He pressed his muzzle in against Ailmer's belly, trying to hold back tears. He wasn't sure what to expect, but Ailmer smiled and crouched down, hugging Beroan's head in against his chest. Beroan let out a soft sigh and nuzzled in, but Ailmer knew, as comforting as it was to have the green against him, he was still in a special position in the eyes of the rest of the riders. He gave Beroan's head one more squeeze before he stood again, turning to address the riders. “As you can see, flight can be dangerous. Trust your dragon, and trust your rider—if you refuse to heed each other's emotions, it is very easy to surprise each other and fall apart." He said.

The rest of the line milled around, mumbling their agreement. Ailmer nodded and continued. “I, however, am not bound. We were unable to sense each other's motions and I lost my grip. That particular instance is beside the point, but it serves to show that these things you are doing; flight, combat, scouting, magic; all of them can kill you if either one of you is careless. Remember that, but I am going to find a healer. Fly more if you wish, carefully, and tomorrow will have you exploring your magic."

Ailmer turned his back on the crowd and began to walk towards the entrance to the academy. He paused for a moment, waiting for Beroan and the crimson dragon and her rider to follow him.

 A warm snout bumped his hand. Cymris pressed her muzzle in against his cupped fingers, keeping close beside him. They all followed wordlessly; Ailmer's words laid heavily on Kerian.