Warfire | Broken Time Series: Book Two

Chapter 19

"Fair enough," Nagan muttered and shrugged, only to nearly jump out of his skin when he found Professor Fai standing behind him. He heard Az mutter, "Dammit," when he hadn't jumped into the barrier as well, and he shot him a glare.

"Is this what boys do for fun, nowadays? Shouting across the girls' dorm just to have a conversation with them?" Professor Fai asked, amused.

"No," Nagan replied petulantly.

"Funny enough, you aren't the first to sneak up on us, Professor," Az said, ignoring Nagan and Gath's incredulous "Us?" "Before it was Professor Ximor, but she scared Gath into the barrier that time."

"Ah." The professor decided not to question it further. "Then I'll see you at the flight course. Don't be late."

The three of them continued to wait by the arch after Professor Fai had left. The boys had a larger break before flight class — none of them were messengers — so none commented at Milora's lateness when she finally joined them. That, and they knew better. They've seen Milora takedown Nagan, who had years of combative training by this point, with momentum alone, so none really wanted to provoke her without cause.

"Nagan, can you braid my hair like last time?" she asked, offering him the blue ribbon she usually wore. Wordlessly, he took the ribbon and lightly grasped her shoulder, making her turn her back to him.

"Look at that," Gath lamented to Az. "She ignores us and goes straight to him!"

"To be fair, Nagan is very good at braids," Az noted.

"That's not the point."

"No need to be jealous, Gath," Nagan said, securing the newly formed braid with the ribbon. "I'm sure I could work a few braids in your hair, too, even if they'll be a bit short."

Gath made an offended sound while Milora hid her laugh behind her hand.

"Alright, alright, stop looking like a couple of rejected puppies." To prove she wasn't ignoring them, she squeezed between Gath and Az, linked her arms in theirs, and began dragging them to flight class. Nagan stepped beside Az seamlessly, a fond smile lingering on Milora before facing ahead.

By the time they got to the field, their dragons now fitted with the correct saddle types (much to Ravi's delight), they had some time to do some final checks.

"Looks like you've gotten the hang of it," Professor Fai commented, tugging lightly at one of the bindings. Both had dragons with snake-like bodies, and the only other person with an amphithere had already been drafted into the war. Even if the saddle types slightly differed, Nagan was grateful for the extra reassurance. "I suppose Ravi will be there to catch you if you slip, but you can't be too careful with those turns."

"It looks to me that they became sharper," Nagan noted while scanning the course. "Are they upping the difficulty one last time before we leave?"

Professor Fai twitched at the mention of it, sighing in resignation. "I doubt you'll be needing to do that extreme of maneuvers, but it doesn't hurt to be over-qualified." He glanced at Nagan before patting the boy's shoulder. "You'll do fine."

"I'm not scared if that's what you're suggesting."

"Humor me; it's more for my benefit." He cracked a smile and joked, "I feel like a mother hen every time you kids do one of these."

Nagan laughed.

Just before they were supposed to line up, Nagan saw a small commotion from the corner of his eye. Milora was still fiddling with Dockard's new saddle, Carthadeus with her, and both had a look of confusion on their faces. Is everything alright with it? Yet Milora gave a sigh and waved Carthadeus away, stepping hard into the saddle and swinging her leg over it. She continued to lean to each side, as far as she dared, and shifting around until she was satisfied it wouldn't budge. Carthadeus gave it one last look before giving an unsure nod, and Nagan saw him ask Milora if she would be alright. She nodded, and before Nagan could go over and inquire what happened himself, they were all called to the start. He watched Carthadeus jog away, mounting his own dragon, and headed to the start of the course. Milora and everyone else did the same, so reluctantly, Nagan led Ravi to the lineup, only then settling into the saddle.

"Alright, rookies, you know the drill," Wyvet said across the line, Qentor as silent as usual beside her and the professors Fai and Ximor behind them. Those with non-flying variants were off at another location further into the forest with Professor Trevelion and General Byteron. Nagan pitied the ones stuck with the general, as did everyone else. "First lap as fast as you can go. Ready? Go!"

The first time they had run the course, many were knocked off their dragons as other dragon's wings hit them. Nagan was not spared of it, but neither was Az or Milora. Gath was struck but managed to keep his seat as Bizo was taller than most. Wyvet laughed gloriously at the chaos before actually giving them the heads up to give each other ample room to move before take-off. This was weeks ago, however, and now mere days before they were sent to the war, they had learned their lesson. In a flurry of colors and wings, each dragon took off into the air to complete the now-familiar course that mixed into the sky and trees.

Effortlessly, Nagan pulled ahead along with the other dragons that were built for speed. Where the slimmer and snake-like dragons lacked in strength, they made up in speed and agility. Soon, it was just Nagan and Aitor, the tether-binding mage, in the lead. Aitor had a thinner dragon, one with delicate, glossy wings that beat twice as fast as any other dragon. Fittingly, he had named her Gossamer. The two of them had a steady acquaintanceship as they only shared the one flight class, yet it was only the two of them who could match pace, thus becoming friendly rivals in the sport.

"I'm still in the lead, nine to seven. Just thought you could use the reminder," Nagan taunted lightheartedly. Aitor laughed in reply, not taking his eyes off the path ahead.

"N-Not f—for long-g-g!"

Twists and turns they whipped around, sometimes Nagan was in the lead while others it was Aitor. Sometimes they flew neck and neck. It was a thrill both of them enjoyed, and both not afraid of the break-neck speed they soared at. No matter how timid Aitor portrayed himself to be, Nagan knew otherwise. He was just as reckless as himself when it came to flying.

They were just about to hit the big turn before they heard an ear-splitting scream and many more shouts of dismay. Both halted and steered their dragons around, only to see a riderless Dockard struggling to stop and Milora disappearing down into the trees. They reacted before they could think.

"Sor!"

"Bevalhe vak ro ov navai!"

Time stopped around them, freezing the others caught in the spell, while green coils of light shot from Aitor's palm once he finished the incantation. Darting behind the light and through the trees, they desperately hoped they caught Milora in time. There was no telling if she would survive a fall so high and from a speed none of them had the experience to go at. It was seconds before the time spell would have forcefully broken did they reach the place where strings of light wrapped around something in the trees. Milora swayed harmlessly in the branches as the spell released, and the bindings held true. She did not move nor react as blood trickled down her face.