The Verum Trilogy - Survivor

Chapter 8

Alia tossed and turned in her bunk, unable to sleep.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

What was she thinking, shooting her shot with her team leader? He could kick her out of the program faster than she could say 'Rider Corps.' She covered her face with her hands, groaning through her fingers. Behind the darkness of her closed eyes, Locke's hardened gaze and dangerous smile appeared, just the barest flash of white teeth against his lips. His usually combed military cut had been just slightly unkempt tonight, like he'd run his hands through his short black hair in frustration more than once.

I'd like to run my hands through that hair, the thought escaped before she clamped down on it fiercely. No! No, you would not, she harshly scolded herself. Because he is going to send you packing and the last three weeks are going to mean nothing.

She was an idiot. A hormonal, opportunistic idiot. She swore under her breath, rolling onto her side. The night sky was just beginning to lighten and of course, mid-term spars were that morning. Abandoning all hope of sleep, Alia slid out of bed, pulling on her uniform and boots. She combed through her hair with practiced fingers and braided it down her back. There was nothing she could do but wipe the floor with her opponents during the spars today. Maybe then Top would consider letting her stay. She glanced at Bree's empty bunk with a small frown as she grabbed her jacket and recruit badge. Her roommate hadn't come back last night.

Hopefully she hadn't worn herself out practicing in the armory, but then again, that would be one less opponent to worry about today. Teamwork aside, mid-term spars were an individual competition, and Alia had something to prove.

The combatives field looked like a completely different terrain feature when the recruits arrived that morning. Rather than the usual terraced strips of grass, raised platforms varying in size and height created a three-dimensional arena well above ground level. Some were overgrown with foliage, vines spilling over the edge and drifting in the breeze. Others were interrupted every few feet by outcroppings of boulders, and still others had entire trees growing through them, roots poking through the undersides and intertwining around the poles they were mounted on. Most platforms were only a few meters in diameter, severely limiting the space available for a traditional spar. Others were just five or six feet from end to end, barely a stepping block to the next. All were connected in one form or another, whether by vines, ropes, or an untrustworthy plank bridge. Recruits would be forced to confront not only one another, but some of the challenges of height and aerodynamic instability that came with fighting on dragonback.

Subtle, Alia thought dryly as she squinted up in the morning sun at the lowest platform, almost fifty meters above the lowest terrace. She glanced over the other recruits in her section as they fell into a loose formation around her. Bree was still nowhere in sight. Maybe Lieutenant Fleming hadn't been kidding when he threatened to drop them for breaking curfew. But that couldn't be right, her personal belongings had still been in their room, hadn't they?

The glint of sunlight on scales caught her eye, and her breath caught in her throat. Perched throughout the terraced mountain side were dragons of every size and color, with the dark silhouettes of dragon riders mounted in the soft hollow of their shoulders. They were silent and solemn, dragons peering down at the nervous batch of recruits with unblinking, slit-pupiled eyes.

"Get in line!" the irritated voice of her team leader made her spine instinctively straighten. Oh Gods, he sounded more pissed than usual today. She glanced at him, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach, and blinked in surprise. Bree was trailing after him, her eyes low. She wordlessly walked around to the back of the group and took her place in formation, shoulder to shoulder with her.