Over the sound of Boyce’s family and friends chatting with the weary but relieved patient, I hear a door latch come undone. “Ward Veremund!” one of the woodsmen exclaim.
I turn to see Ward Veremund standing in the doorway to the simple stone room, observing us. Everyone except me bows their head respectfully. Is that the normal reaction one has to a Ward? Or is that just because it’s the leader of the Wards? I decide I better bow my head, too.
Ward Veremund walks up to Boyce, patting him on the shoulder. “How are you feeling Boyce?”
“Better. Thank you for sending your newest Ward member to be with me,” Boyce says.
“Estelle helped us with Boyce’s leg,” Jaye says. “She’s a superb healer!”
I squirm in embarrassment as Ward Veremund gives me a warm smile. “Thank you, Estelle. Are you well enough for a walk? There are some things I think we should discuss.”
“Oh. Sure.” I bid Jaye and the others a farewell and follow Ward Veremund outside the medical room. “What did you wish to talk about?”
“Firstly: I do thank you for your aid, so soon after your arrival and while dealing with your own recovery and shock.” Ward Veremund turns his light blue eyes to my face. “While you were rushed into the bonding, Astralux was not wrong about you—you are full of Ariadna’s light. And I am grateful for that.”
Stunned, I stare at him for a long while. How does someone even respond to that? “Thank you,” I say after a time.
Ward Veremund nods as he opens a large wooden door. Stepping through, I find that I’m closer to Adytol now, and I stare along the cobblestone street that leads a short walk to where a main street is. I’m both curious and anxious, afraid of how overwhelming it might be to go into the city, but Ward Veremund turns right along a smaller path that winds its way up to the white stone palace. The pressure on my heart is this way, but I don’t see any sign of Astralux. Which I’m glad for—I’m not ready to face her just yet.
“I wanted to talk to you more about what it means to be a Ward,” Ward Veremund says. “I will respect and honor whatever decision you make. However, being bonded to Astralux, I think you should know what sort of training she—and the rest of us—have gone through, and what we believe in.”
“Okay,” I say.
“All Wards take an oath upon being bonded,” Ward Veremund says. “‘By Ariadna’s guiding star, I—Veremund Mendoza—do solemnly swear to uphold my bonded dragon—Kalteratem—to support him and protect him, and to be his light in the darkness. I promise that together we will fight against Anieros’ hand, wherever he reaches, and defend the helpless and the innocent. We will not turn away those that seek protection, but deliver them from the evil of Anieros and all who follow him. We will fly strong in Ariadna, and be her light to everyone we meet. This, we swear.’”
Nothing in the oath strikes me as disagreeable. The only thing I don’t like is the obvious forefront stance of a Ward in the fight against Anieros. But then again, growing up, I’d never thought that Anieros really had that many followers. I believed that there weren’t that many bad people in Drakonia. I was quickly realizing that I was wrong, and Inizion had been led astray in its time of peace.
The path we’re on takes us to two large stone doors with a beautiful image of a dragon and a rider carved across them both. In front of the doors stand two men whose blue uniform over plated armor is similar to the Wards’ coat of arms but just unique enough that I notice the difference: a white mountain beneath a white star on a dark blue background. Perhaps the guards of Adytol?
“Ward Veremund,” both guards murmured. Their helmeted heads turn in my direction and I shy back a step. However, the guards open the doors for us.
I follow Ward Veremund inside to a hallway that could have fit Astralux and Vitegadium, maybe even Undabouclier. The floor is a glossy stone so shiny it reflects the abstract, swirling carvings in the arched ceilings that were easily eight meters high, maybe more. The hallway is sparsely decorated, similar to the medical ward. The only decorations are the banners of the Wards that hang from the walls on either side. I spot a couple of people, a man and a woman, cleaning in one corner of the great hall. They pause to bow their heads to Ward Veremund before resuming their work, both of them peeking up at me with curiosity.
Ward Veremund leads the way down the hall to a grand staircase at the end that rises up and splits off into a spiral stairway in either direction around this circular, large room. He goes slow up the steps, keeping an eye on me. “Being a Ward,” he says, “is a great responsibility. It means you promise to step in when no one else will. It means you swear to be not just Adytol’s first response to evil, but that you and your bonded will work together to help people in any and every way.”
“You mean, you aren’t only warriors?” I ask.
“While we do practice fighting on an almost daily basis, and we do focus heavily on being defenders of Adytol and Drakonia, no.” Ward Veremund pauses at the top of the first landing to let me catch my breath before continuing on along the stairs that spiral through the open room. “We also act as an emergency response to any trouble in Adytol, aid in judging matters that Adytol’s governing people can’t determine on their own, and otherwise help as we are gifted. In days past, when we were still known by the other countries, they would call upon us to aid them in diplomatic matters, for example.”
I frown, perplexed on a number of points. “If you used to work with other countries, how come dragons are thought to be a myth now, at least in Amenyl?”
“Admittedly, it has been many years,” Ward Veremund says. “And our battle with the Vladykars has become more personal, to where we have focused on defending Adytol and doing less outreach. But with the news that Klevor has begun war with Amenyl, unannounced, I think the time has come to reintroduce ourselves. And perhaps the other countries have kept better records than Amenyl.” Ward Veremund glances at me. “There is also the possibility that the rulers of Amenyl do know, but keep the matter a secret from the people. Why? I don’t know. But I’ve seen such… politics… before.”
The way he says “politics” makes me smile a little. Inizion is small—that doesn’t mean we never had small-town politics. “I suppose wherever there is more than one person, politics can be found.”
Ward Veremund chuckles. “I find it annoying. However, politics have long since been how many people deal with problems outside of battle. If it means that they will stay their weapons, I will endure it and play their games.”
“I guess so,” I say. We’ve reached the fourth landing, and I pause a little longer to catch my breath.
“How are you feeling?” Ward Veremund asks.
“I’m glad to be walking,” I say. “I’m just a little tired.”
“Take as long as you need.” Ward Veremund leans against the wall as if to reiterate that he’s not in a hurry. “This all being said about Wards helping in non-combative ways, each Ward—human and dragon alike—goes through intensive training prior to being bonded. Training ranges from combat training to more intellectual courses. After the dragon bonding, we continue our training as individuals and as a team. A human must train for a minimum of one year before we’ll allow them to participate in a Pairing Test, and a dragon must train for a minimum of two years. However, we have yet to have a human or a dragon go through a Pairing Test with less than five years of experience, though admittedly for some that has meant starting in their youth.”
“What’s the Pairing Test?” Taking a gulp of air, I start back up the spiral stairs, and Ward Veremund follows along with me.
“The Pairing Test is where a potential pair are sent out on a short trip to let them spend some time together,” Ward Veremund says. “Since dragon bonding is for life, we don’t take it lightly, and both parties have to be willing and ready to go through with the bonding. The Pairing Test is their opportunity before the Bonding Ceremony for a human and a dragon to decide whether they are really right for each other. By the time we send a pair on such a test, they almost always proceed through with the bonding.”
“But not always,” I say in-between panting for air.
“No. Recently, there was a pair who wasn’t ready,” Ward Veremund says quietly. He takes my arm with gentleness and helps me up the last set of spiral stairs. “I do apologize, I probably pushed you too hard too soon.”
I don’t mind, but I’m too out of breath to say as much. I lean on the railing before looking down. Realizing I can see my reflection in the glossy floor below, many meters below, I take a step back. I’m still a little uncertain about heights at the moment. When I straighten, Ward Veremund offers me a silver goblet with water, and as I take the goblet, staring at the blue gems on it, I spot a water cask tucked in the corner, a platter with clean goblets turned upside down tucked on a shelf underneath the cask.
I sigh in relief, quenching my thirst. “Thank you.”
“Of course. When you’re ready, the other Wards would like to meet you,” Ward Veremund says.
I don’t know whether Ward Veremund intentionally hid this from me, or if he doesn’t realize how much I’m not ready for this. On the other hand, the presence on my heart has distanced itself again—it feels faint, and I wonder if Astralux felt me coming and left. I rub the area above my heart absentmindedly as I drink another goblet of water.
“I’m ready,” I say.
Nodding once, Ward Veremund sets the goblet aside on the water cask table and leads me down a short hallway, toward a wooden door at the other end. I can hear voices, and when Ward Veremund opens the door, revealing another set of spiraling stairs, I hear the conversation with ease.
“…know how the Vladykars know our every movement,” someone was saying. “It’s like they’re getting intel from one of us.”
“Oh come on Amon,” someone else says. “You know none of us would ever betray our own!”
“I’m just pointing out that they knew exactly where to find Mortimer and the others,” Ward Amon says. “Isn’t that a little suspicious?”
“What are you implying?” Ward Thorn asks, a warning in his gruff voice. “That I would go through the trouble of alerting the Vladykars—”
“—Easy, easy,” Ward Mortimer’s deeper, calming tone cutting through. “Amon’s just noting that we need to be aware that the Snake seems to be getting intel from us on a regular basis.”
“Mortimer’s right,” a very deep, commanding voice says. “This is not the time to fight amongst ourselves.”
Beside me, Ward Veremund’s gaze drifts off a little.
“Veremund returns,” the deep, commanding voice says. “And he brings with him Estelle.”
Shocked, I squint my eyes at sunlight as I step out of the stairwell. The stairs open onto a flat landing that opens into a massive open, circular balcony. There are large pillars placed all along the edges of the balcony supporting an arched roof that I now recall, seeing from the outside, sits at the top of Wards’ palace. I lose my breath at the sight of so many dragons here.
But the one that stuns me most of all is the light silver-gray dragon sitting on his haunches in the center. To call him massive would be an understatement—he takes up a third of the landing from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail, which curls around itself several times about his body. He’s even larger than Velenosever and Undabouclier, and that’s saying something. He could probably fit most of the houses in Inizion into his mouth. While he has a spike on his nose, it actually becomes a fin on the back of his head, and the fin runs all the way down to his tail, where it then turns into a thinner, smaller spike again. The tips of his spikes, fins, claws, and his tail are a glittering pale blue that matches his beautiful eyes, which are easily the size of a man in height, perhaps two men in width. He has several horns protruding from his head, twisted and entwined around each other and sweeping back, except for one pair that curls forward.
As if his sheer size weren’t intimidating, his presence is overwhelming. An aura of power, of antiquity, and of goodness fills the air around him. I come to a stop, gaping up at him, completely and utterly flabbergasted.
The dragon opens his mouth. “Welcome Estelle Brand,” he says, his the deep and commanding voice I heard earlier announcing my presence. “I am Kalteratem.”
Tamara Rivers 
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