Gold Dragon (Heritage of Power #5)
Lindsay Buroker
1
Lieutenant Rysha Ravenwood flung herself to the ground, ducked her head low, and wriggled under the latticework of ropes. Mud spattered her face, sticking to her spectacles and her tongue, but she barely noticed. She dragged herself by her elbows and shoved with her knees, and finally burst out on the far side of the mud pit.
The last obstacle came into view. Nerves and fear tangled in her belly like drunken vipers in a barrel, but she sprinted toward the burly sergeant as if her life depended on it. Her dreams did.
She ran down the sawdust-coated path toward him, raising her fists as she approached.
This time, she would make it, and without chicanery or any words spoken. She would get past him as the instructors demanded, by physically knocking him aside.
The grizzled sergeant lifted his fists. Rysha expected a contemptuous sneer, a bored yawn, or simply professional readiness. Instead, he kept glancing over her shoulder, toward the wall she had climbed at the beginning of the course. Toward—
Do you wish me to assist you at this crucial juncture, Storyteller? Shulina Arya, the gold dragon who had decided Rysha would become her rider, and who was perched atop the obstacle-course wall, asked telepathically.
The interruption startled Rysha, and she almost tripped. No, thank you.
As much as she appreciated having a dragon cheerleader, she was struggling to convey to Shulina Arya that she had to do this without help. In addition to the sergeant she had to fight, a timekeeper watched the course, and nearby Major Kaika and Colonel Therrik oversaw everything. Therrik, his brows drawn into a V and his muscled arms crossed over his chest, appeared to be watching intently for dragon shenanigans.
The sergeant shifted his attention back to Rysha and lowered into a crouch as she approached. She exhaled a quick puff of air. This was it. Her partner was still struggling to get over the wall—perhaps due to the dragon distraction atop it—so she didn’t have anyone to help her pass this final obstacle.
Unlike the last time she’d attempted the course, the sergeant didn’t wait for her to attack first.
He lunged forward, jabbing with his left fist, then throwing a punch with his right. It came straight toward her face—toward the spectacles perched on her nose. Rysha dodged the jab and swung her arm up to block the punch, deflecting it despite the strength behind the blow.
The sergeant recovered instantly and threw a backhand punch. She danced away, and it swished harmlessly past her face.
Rysha was pleased to evade the attacks, but she had to enact her strategy if she wanted to get past him. She planned to use her six feet of height and long legs to keep him out of punching range by throwing a barrage of kicks.
As he sprang after her, she lifted her knee and drove the ball of her foot toward his groin. He seemed surprised by the speed of her attack and couldn’t quite get out of the way in time. He twisted and took the brunt of the kick on his meaty outer thigh. At least she’d made contact.
That didn’t faze him. He came in, assailing her faster this time, launching a chain of jabs, straight punches, and uppercuts.
Rysha stuck to her plan, blocking the first couple but then springing back, light on her feet as she did her best to stay out of his range. She also shifted to the left as she skittered away from him, subtly navigating around him and toward the path on the opposite side.
She launched her boot at him again, this time feinting toward his face to startle him into throwing his defenses up high. As soon as he did, she twisted and slammed a side kick toward his chest. He drew his arm down to block, but the power of her blow sent him back a step. Once again, he recovered quickly and raised his fists for another attack, but Rysha, knowing the timekeeper’s clock was ticking, turned and sprinted away. She didn’t have to defeat him; she only had to get by him, and she’d made sure her maneuvers were shifting her in that direction.
He spat and gave chase, but only until he reached a white line painted in the mud and sawdust, marking the end of that segment. She made it across it, and he pulled up. Grinning, Rysha sprinted the rest of the way down the path toward the timekeeper, who stood blandly watching, his clipboard and watch in hand.
She couldn’t be positive she had made it, not until he yelled out her time, but she had climbed over the wall far more quickly today than in the past, and she didn’t think that fight had gone on overly long.
She lunged across the finish line and spun toward the timekeeper, tempted to tear the watch out of his hands so she could check for herself.
A sublime performance, Shulina Arya spoke into her mind. But you did leave your enemy standing. Shall I fly down and smite him?
No, he’s in my unit. He’s only pretending to be an enemy right now. Rysha leaned over the timekeeper’s shoulder. “Well, Sergeant? Did I make it?”
Are you certain? the dragon asked. He is having predatory thoughts about your hindquarters.
What? Startled, Rysha stared back at the sergeant she’d faced.
His smile did not seem predatory to Rysha, though his gaze was toward her butt. He caught her looking and lifted his eyes, then gave her an approving salute. She saluted back, hoping that meant he was pleased she’d fought well enough to pass him. She was. She had worried about this test for the last three weeks, especially since she had missed so many of her practice runs of the obstacle course, along with the daily combat drills and gymnasium exercises, when she’d been off on her mission with Trip and Kaika.
Those aren’t predatory thoughts, Rysha explained to the dragon. I believe they’re lecherous ones. You may have noticed Captain Trip having similar ones about my, uh, hindquarters.
Are they welcome or unwelcome?
From the sergeant? So long as he doesn’t try to act on them, they’re fine.
For a moment, Rysha forgot all about the course and the training, and flashed back to that freighter in Lagresh, where a bronze dragon in human form had tried to sexually force himself on her. Fortunately, it hadn’t gone further than kissing and groping, but the memory still angered and shamed her. She felt the fool for not having sussed out what the dragon was sooner. She still hadn’t told Trip about the incident, and she hoped she could get away with never doing so. He wouldn’t blame her, she was certain, but he might think… Oh, she didn’t even know. It was more her own shame that she didn’t want to face or share with him.
“Four minutes and eight seconds,” the timekeeper announced, lifting a pencil to his clipboard. “You made it with twenty-two seconds to spare. Impressive.” He looked toward Colonel Therrik and Major Kaika, who were walking up. “I believe that’s a little faster than Major Kaika ran the course when she first passed twenty years ago.”