Veronyka stood next to Tristan as they waited for the last few stragglers to turn up. He tried to catch her eye, to gauge how she was feeling, but she only gave him a vague nod and looked away. Was she regretting this audition? The pressure was extreme, but he had never known her to back down from a challenge.
Maybe she was just nervous. This meant more to her than it did to any of them; it was a fast track to becoming a Master Rider, and Tristan knew how badly she wanted that. There was external pressure too. Veronyka’s success would allow Tristan’s entire patrol to be more involved, and surely she felt that added weight.
Tristan tried to give her space, turning his attention to the rest of the group. Beryk stood at the front with Elliot beside him. They were shorthanded enough after the attack, so despite Elliot’s betrayal, Beryk used him as an assistant to aid with his steward duties, as well as other odd jobs around the Eyrie and stronghold.
Tristan had no idea how Elliot felt about it all. He usually walked around with his head down and his shoulders slumped, avoiding eye contact and rarely speaking. The other apprentices gave Elliot a wide berth, and Tristan himself had trouble truly forgiving him.
When the commander had first recruited Elliot, he’d intended for him to round out the newest patrol when the time came. Obviously, that plan had not come to fruition. If it had, they wouldn’t be having these trials to begin with.
As they waited for everyone to turn up, some of the other Riders spoke in low whispers about the soldiers and the empire’s next move, their expressions a mix of frowning concern and stiff-jawed focus. Tristan even caught the words “Grand Council,” and while the information about the soldiers was common knowledge—it wasn’t as if they could hide the fact when local travelers were spreading the news and Prosperity was about to be garrisoned—discussion of the Grand Council meeting was more limited. As far as Tristan knew, his father didn’t want it widely known…. But then again, gossip traveled quickly in an isolated place like Azurec’s Eyrie.
Tristan was about to call for a halt to the whispering when Beryk cast a stern gaze over the group. The mutterings fell silent, but not before everyone in the vicinity had caught the words—including Elliot and several guards who had helped set up.
The commander and Fallon were last to arrive, and would act as judges for the trials that were to come. Fallon’s phoenix was saddled and perched nearby; Tristan suspected he’d be watching whatever flying they did from the air.
“We’ll be doing three separate tests today,” Beryk announced, hooking his thumbs in his belt. “Flying, archery, and hand-to-hand combat. These are the basics for any Phoenix Rider and essential skills for warriors facing active duty. Flight is, of course, our greatest advantage, and so we’ll begin there with a relay race.”
A ripple of excitement swept their group, and Tristan cast a glance at Veronyka. Flight was definitely her strongest skill apart from her command of animal magic, though the two were related. With a good start, her confidence would be high for the remainder of the trials. It was the best he could have hoped for.
“You’ll perform a circuit of the Eyrie, following the flags into the tunnels of Soth’s Fury, before looping back around to make the handoff here, at the finish line,” Beryk continued, indicating a series of green flags that rippled in the breeze. “If the baton hits the ground or you fail to complete the run in the allotted time, you will fail. Also, you’ll all be blindfolded, which means you’ll be required to use your bond if you want to make it through. Patrol leader,” he said, nodding to Tristan, “strategize with your team and determine the order. We’ll begin in ten minutes.”
Elliot handed out blindfolds while Tristan assigned positions. Anders was the fastest of their group, followed closely by Veronyka. Ronyn was the slowest but sure with his handoffs, and Lysandro’s mount had good speed but tired easily. Tristan and Latham fit somewhere in the middle.
“Anders, how do you feel about starting?” Tristan asked, “with Latham right behind you?” Anders perked up, tossing a smug smile at Latham.
“How does it feel to always be second best?” Anders asked. “I hope you enjoy the view of my backside.”
“It’s better than your front,” Latham said with a smile. Anders’s mouth dropped open in mock outrage, and Lysandro snorted.
“Lys, you go after Latham, and you’ll hand off to Ronyn. Then it’s me, with Veronyka bringing us home.” Going last was a high-pressure position, but Veronyka thrived in such situations. Besides, they needed to finish strong.
Veronyka nodded, knotting her blindfold and sliding it up onto her forehead, but she didn’t look at him—there was no smile or light in her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Tristan asked in a low voice, as the others went about checking their mounts and adjusting their saddles. “Is something wrong?”
“Everything’s…” She closed her eyes for a breath, then opened them again. Her voice was stronger this time when she spoke. “Everything’s fine.”
But everything wasn’t fine—Tristan could feel it.
Anders mounted his phoenix and waited near the edge of the field while the rest of them milled around to watch. There was a green flag attached to a thrust of the stone, indicating the start and finish line as well as where the handoffs would occur. Anders twirled the smooth metal rod in his hands as he sat in the saddle, completely at his ease. Latham stood nearby, hissing playful taunts and jeers at the back of Anders’s head while Anders grinned widely, apparently enjoying every minute of it.
“Ready?” Beryk called, looking first to Anders, who raised a hand before tugging down his blindfold, then over to the commander and Fallon, who nodded. Fallon climbed into his saddle and took to the air, flying toward the caverns. “Three—two—one,” he said, before putting his thumb and forefinger to his lips and letting out a short, sharp whistle.
Anders was off in a gust of wind and flapping wings. While Tristan and the others watched him zip across the rocky landscape before disappearing from view, Latham took up Anders’s vacated place near the starting line. When Anders made his return, Latham would take to the sky and prepare for the handoff.
While flying was similar with or without the blindfolds—they just had to mirror with their mounts and hang on tight—it was the handoff that became challenging. Not only did they have to trust their phoenix’s vision, as well as sync their pace and timing perfectly, but they had to reach dangerously forward or backward on their saddles without actually being able to see. There were varying strategies: Some Riders chose to fly above or below during the handoff, with the lower Riders standing in their stirrups while the upper Rider had to dangle from the side of their saddle. Sometimes a side-by-side handoff could be achieved if both phoenixes carefully stilled their wings and rode the wind during the seconds it took for their Riders to make contact.
This was another reason why a close bond was so important. If a baton was fumbled or one of the strategies failed to work, a close pair could adjust and alter their approach while a lesser pair would fail. This was also why they did their handoffs so high in the air… it gave them time to recover if a baton was dropped.
No matter how much they bickered and teased, when Anders rounded the far end of the Eyrie and approached the starting line, Latham pulled down his blindfold and took to the air, a look of serious concentration on his face. Tristan knew he was the least supportive of Veronyka, and it was a relief to see him taking the trials seriously. As soon as Anders slapped the baton into his hand, he tore off, a red streak in the blue sky.