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Varian knelt by the dragon saddle, running one of the fastening leathers through his hands. The sunshine of morning washed the Highlands in golden grass, bright-colored wildflowers, and white, glistening stones.
Dulcan and Solvar stood beside him, looking out over the practice fields. Men were filtering to their day's work, some to train, some to work the never-dying smithies. Smoke filtered over the south end of the field, creating wavery shadows over the breeze-tossed grass.
"Fleet's one of the worst young dragons I've ever fitted for a saddle," Dulcan muttered. "Prancin' around, never standin' still for more than one moment."
Solver grinned. "Ye said that about my Goldtongue."
"Fleet's worst than Goldtongue ever was."
Solvar grunted, and Varian caught a warning look pass between the two men. Solvar looked irritated.
Dulcan shrugged and fingered a saddle strap. "But mark ye, Vari'n, that's the signs of a good battle-dragon. Quick and nimble on their feet, eyes never still, tongue keepin' their mouth moist so that they can spit their fireballs at any second."
Varian raised his eyebrows. "Their mouths have to be moist to breathe fire?"
"All a part of a dragon's peculiar, incomprehensible body," Jokk interrupted.
Varian hadn't seen him approach. The captain raised his hand, showing Varian a saddlepack, then tossed it to him. Varian let it drop into his arms, then almost lost his hold on the full bag.
"We're goin' to patrol for a couple of days," Jokk said. "We can practice flyin' by day and night, get ye a feel for our borders and the places we have to protect. The Great Dragon also wished for yer presence tonight."
"For what?"
"Ye want a explanation of what's going on, don't ye? Archflame is the oldest of the Lairds, but his memory is sharp for all that, and he among us knows best the story of the Sunderin' War. That will answer many of yer questions."
Varian bit the inside of his lip to keep his mouth shut. Learning history was all well and good, but he wanted other answers—answers he knew that only Jokk could provide, answers about his mother and his Highlander heritage.
The ground shook behind him. Fleet had landed, all but knocking Dulcan off his feet.
"Dragon! Here I go and make a saddle for ye and yer rider, and then ye reward me by throwing me off my feet." Despite his grumbling, Dulcan smiled.
Fleet dipped his head in apology. "I was informed that Jokk wanted me."
"We're patrollin' with Jokk and Flameclaw," Varian said. "Settle down so I can get this saddle on ye."
As Dulcan showed him how to arrange the saddle and straps around Fleet's shoulders and neck, Varian's heart mounted to his throat. Which would be worse, flying by night or by day? He remembered the terror of not being able to anticipate his mount's moves or clearly see the ground in the dark. Maybe he'd be able to anticipate Fleet better in the daylight, but Varian doubted that seeing the ground as he flew would make him feel any better.
He tightened the last strap and looked up as Jokk and Flameclaw whooshed above their heads.
"Enjoy yer fly," Dulcan said. "But don't ever look for me in the air. I'm believin' that if God had intended us to fly, He'd have given us wings and been done with it. None of this mountin' on half-savage beasts."
Fleet chuckled and flame trickled out of his mouth. "That's the first time I have ever heard any dragon referred to as half-savage."
Dulcan smiled. "Now if ye can turn as fast as yer brother did, then ye're half-savage, all right."
Fleet's face twisted, pulling his lips back from his teeth. He spat a globule of flame at the ground near Dulcan's feet. The swordsmith jumped and stomped on it. A slobbery growl bubbled in the base of Fleet's throat.
"Take a care, Fleet. Ye'll burn the village down!" Dulcan said.
"Take a care what you say about my brother, then." Fleet's jaws clacked together at the end of each word.
"Now, Fleet, don't take it hard. Ye know I was jokin'."
"Varian, mount up. Do not bother about the ritual right now, we do not have time. Flameclaw and Jokk are waiting."
Varian scrambled aboard, biting his tongue as his hand touched Fleet's scales. They were burning hot, maybe evidence of the anger that he felt radiating from the young dragon. He strapped his pack to the back of the saddle. Fleet sprang into the air, knocking Varian against his neck.
"Watch it!" Varian snapped. "I'm not a veteran rider."
Fleet ignored him and angled sharply into the air. Jokk and Flameclaw dashed ahead, setting a hard pace toward the mountains. Fleet followed, his wings slapping the air. Varian hunkered in his saddle, reached out and touched Fleet's neck. The dragon twisted away from his touch, but Varian still felt the scorching scales. It was even heating his saddle.
"Fleet—why did—"
"Do not ask," Fleet snarled.
The smooth ride that Varian remembered was gone. Fleet jerked his tail to compensate for the head-on wind currents, an action that snapped Varian from side to side. Varian dug his fingers into the front of the saddle and squeezed his legs around the grips. He didn't dare look over Fleet's side—but at least the nausea from his first flying trip hadn't returned. Yet.
Flameclaw turned and began flying parallel to the mountains. Fleet followed him, and immediately Varian felt a difference in the ride. The wind whipped the side of his head, flaying his eyes with his hair. Varian rubbed them and squinted.
Ahead, Jokk raised one arm and twisted in his saddle. His words floated back, barely discernable. "The currents from the mountains are tricky, Fleet! Be careful!"
"Did ye hear that?" Varian prodded Fleet's neck.
The wind pushed them to the side.
"Fleet? Answer me! Did ye hear Jokk?"
Fleet grunted. His tense muscles tightened even more. Varian licked his lips as another gust knocked Fleet's tail out of line with his neck. The dragon wrenched himself straight, his spine rigid.
Not good, Varian thought.
But for a few minutes, there were no sharp blasts of wind. Fleet's glowing scales cooled a little, though he showed no sign of paying more attention to the air currents. Varian relaxed and sat up a little. They were so close to the mountains, he could see the snow-defying flowers growing in ravines and crags. He wondered if it would be difficult to fly close enough to the cliffs that he could touch the stone.
The wind slammed into him. Fleet's right wing snapped under his body, twisting them to the left. Varian grabbed for the saddle, felt the exact second when Fleet panicked and gave a hard flap of his left wing to compensate.
Varian lost his grip on the saddle. His legs slipped from the grips. He threw himself crossways, clawing for a hold. His fingernails raked Fleet's scales. The dragon's shriek deafened him. His left fingers lodged in the straps of his pack.
Varian kicked and fitted his right foot into one of the straps around Fleet's neck. Fleet struggled against the unrelenting wind, flinging his right wing out only to have it filled with air, spinning them to the right. Varian hung upside down, sprawled across the dragon's neck. The wind buffeted them back and forth and, finally, Fleet curled both wings to his sides.
Varian tucked his head against the saddle. Gritted his teeth. His stomach tumbled to his mouth as they dropped. His foot slipped out and he snatched, caught another pack strap. He lifted from the saddle as the air rushed past them. The mountains blurred. He could feel blood pounding in his fingertips.
Fleet flapped his right wing, sending them into a spin. Varian's arms strained, but his fingers were locked into place. The ground and mountains tumbled into one green-gray mass, closer and closer. His stomach twisted.
He slammed back against the saddle as Fleet unfurled his wings. They were right-side up and gliding now. Varian closed his eyes until he felt Fleet touch down. Then, slowly, he uncurled his stiffened fingers and tumbled off the dragon. His back cramped in protest, but Varian staggered a few yards away and collapsed on a soft grassy area.
His stomach heaved and Varian threw himself to the side, vomiting.
"Varian?" Fleet called.
"Dinnae talk," Varian growled, wiping his mouth. "Ye almost killed us! What were ye thinkin'?"
"What happened?"
Varian turned, saw Jokk dismount from Flameclaw. "Fleet almost killed us is what happened!"
"Those currents are hard to navigate," Flameclaw said. "Perhaps—"
"There's no perhaps about it. Fleet wasnae payin' attention because he was angry at somethin' Dulcan said. If he'd been payin' attention instead of nursin' his anger, we would've been fine."
Jokk glanced over Varian's shoulder. Varian turned. Fleet's shoulders tensed, and he lowered his head until his snout touched the ground.
"He speaks truth," he said.
"Why were ye angry?" Jokk asked.
Fleet's voice was grudging. "Dulcan made a jest about my brother."
"Ah." Jokk crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the mountains.
Varian's limbs felt weak. He sat on the grass, brought his hands up to place on his knees, and saw they were shaking. He clenched them into fists, trying to control himself.
What was wrong with Jokk? He should've been reprimanding Fleet—at the very least. Maybe even calling off the patrol, going home, sending Fleet to the mountains. Something than just standing there with his arms crossed. Varian had to bite his tongue to keep from voicing his questions.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Fleet looking at him. The dragon's golden eyes begged for forgiveness. Varian ground his teeth and stared straight ahead. You dinnae jeopardize the lives of your comrades, then expect to be forgiven immediately.
As if sensing the mood behind him, Jokk turned. "Fleet, ye know Dulcan didnae mean it as anything but a joke. Not many people know yer true feelings toward yer brother."
"Why do people assume that because you are on a different side than your brother, that your feelings toward him change?" Fleet snapped.
Varian swallowed hard. He felt like he'd been hit right in the gut by Fleet's words.
"They dinnae understand," Jokk said quietly. "They dinnae know how it is to loose a loved one to the other side."
"Then they best not meddle with what they do not understand."
"They dinnae understand that they're meddlin'." Jokk sighed. "We'll continue this discussion later. Let's get to our campsite."
"I'm nae gettin' on a dragon again," Varian said. "Especially nae Fleet."
"Dinnae be talkin' nonsense."
"As far as I'm concerned I'm talkin' plenty of sense."
"Get on yer dragon, Varian."
Varian stood up. "Nae."
"I'm yer commander. If ye dinnae obey me immediately I'll have ye shipped back to the Lowlands," Jokk said, his voice hard and even.
"Fine thing to be a commander yet abandon yer nephew," Varian shot back.
Jokk winced and clenched his hands. "It wasnae my choice. Ye dinnae understand—"
"Then help me understand! I'm the son of yer sister, but I barely remember my mother, much less ye! I dinnae know why ye left me in the Lowlands, and I dinnae know what's goin' on or what's happenin' to me—but I want to. Why dinnae ye help me understand instead of leavin' it for guesswork?"
Jokk sighed, and his stiff façade vanished. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then crouched down and stared off southward. "Flameclaw, Fleet, ye find yer supper. We'll camp here for the night."
The two dragons glanced at each other. Flameclaw shrugged, as if to say, "Humans are strange beings," and the two launched into the air. Jokk waited until the wind stirred by their wings had died down before he spoke.
"Varian, understand one thing. I dinnae leave ye by choice. And, despite all my threats, I wouldnae send ye back to the Lowlands."
Varian slumped his shoulder. "I'm sorry. But there's so much happenin'—I dinnae understand. I've always wanted to visit the Highlands but I never wanted to choose sides. I'd hoped I could live as half-Highlander and half-Lowlander peaceably."
"Ye and Fleet have more in common than ye realize. His brother Darkfang lives on the other side of the Dragon-mount, with the ones we call the Lowland Dragons."
"The ones whose ancestors sided with Jeremas."
"Aye. Only they're gainin' followers. Darkfang was among them. Fleet was close to followin' his brother, until he heard rumors of sorcery among the Lowland Dragons. But for all that he still loves his brother, much as ye love Jevran, I imagine." Jokk sighed. "Much as I loved my sister when she married yer father."
"How did my parents meet?"
"A few years after Jevran's mother died, Danilos sent his son over here to steal something from the Great Dragon Archflame."
"What was it?"
"The answer to that question is Archflame's story. And," Jokk added with a chuckle, "If ye keep interruptin' we'll never find the end of this one. Archflame killed him, purely in self-defense. But Danilos twisted the version her told yer father, and convinced him that all the dragons needed to be killed. As he marched into the Highlanders, I met him with an army of my own and refused to let him through. Yer father wasnae a violent man, if ye can remember."
Varian nodded. He had vivid memories of the late king admonishing him to pay more attention to books than to swords. "He told me to not discount what books had to say, and to pay more attention to guidance based off wisdom rather than the battlefield."
"A lesson which he oft repeated. I think the only time Ramius lacked wisdom was when he kept Danilos on as a counselor. But at any rate, once he'd heard my story, in which I told him that Danilos' son had attacked first, Ramius decided to return to the Lowlands. On his way, he stopped at our village. Yavanna hosted him at our house, and he fell in love with her instantly. After he'd been in the Lowlands for a few months, we received an invitation to his court. We obliged—and the long and short of it was, within the year yer mother and yer father married. A year later, ye were born.
"I didnae grudge Yavanna her happiness. She and Ramius were the two most in-love people I've ever seen. But I did wish, in part, that she had never left the Highlands. For Danilos hadnae rested his mind since his son's death, and he was determined to bring us down. He whispered lies about me in Ramius' ears. I dinnae know what poison was in his forked tongue, but the lies worked themselves into Ramius' mind. Then—"
Jokk's jaw clenched. He swallowed hard, and for a moment the only sound was the gentle breeze shuffling through the grass. Varian looked at his uncle and saw a single tear coursing down Jokk's cheek. When Jokk continued, his voice was thick.
"Then Danilos killed yer mother, and he blamed me—me who, next to Ramius, Yavanna loved more than life. It was madness, yet the poison tongue of the counselor once again worked its evil magic and Ramius ordered my death. I escaped, here, and neither Danilos nor Ramius dared follow me in my native country.
"After that, I could only gain what was happenin' in the castle by hearsay, and by news brought to me by a few of the faithful, Onna bein' among them. It was said in the court that I killed Yavanna for marrying a Lowlander, an enemy. If ye'll notice, the commoners of the Lowlands werenae the ones who hated the Highlanders—it was the nobility, the 'informed'. For yer mother was loved by them all."
Varian nodded.
"I've always thought that Ramius' death was assisted by Danilos, but we could never prove it. And he's kept yer brother under tight rein since, hasnae he?"
"As much as he can. Jevran likes to think that he rules his own mind."
"Aye, and he probably does, if he comes from yer father's blood. So ye see, lad, there wasnae chance in ye comin' into this war. Yer mother and probably yer father were victims in Danilos' web. And besides, God knew, lad—he has a purpose for ye to be here. Ye have a lot of wisdom for yer age—let God guide it and there's no tellin' what may come of it."
"Thank ye."
They sat in silence again. Varian turned southward and stared over the hills and rocks and waving grass to the mist-enshrouded Lowlands. The breeze ruffled his hair and he pushed it out of his eyes.
He felt cold inside, except for the pit of his stomach, which felt like Fleet's scales—scalding. Danilos. The name burned in his mind. The man had deprived him of his mother and would have deprived him of his heritage. Varian dug his fingernails into his palms.  
Over the low whistle of the wind, he could hear the dragon's wings. Neither he nor Jokk moved until the dragons had landed behind them.
"Had a good meal?" Jokk asked, turning.
Flameclaw whisked a claw out of his mouth. "A fine meal of mountain sheep."
"Ye're sure they werenae of a herd?"
Both Fleet and Flameclaw looked insulted that he'd asked. Jokk chuckled and the dragons joined him, smoke and flame rolling out of their mouths. Fleet's eyes cut to Varian, a worried look scrunching his bony eyebrows.
"It's soon time for ye to meet the Great Dragon," Jokk said.
"Aye," Varian replied. He stood up and placed his cold hand against Fleet's warming snout. "Will ye bear me?"
The dragon's eyes sparkled and his wings unfurled with a mighty snap. "I will bear you, son of Ramius!"