Fort Squall

Tamara and Lady Emmy entered Fort Squall's dining hall together, happily chatting about her lessons. It was mid-morning, so the breakfast dishes had long since been cleared. The hall's tables, except for one, stood empty with benches neatly pushed beneath. The room was quite airy when it wasn't full of bodies.

It was a common misconception that the hall's sole purpose was a place to serve meals or hold occasional gatherings. This misconception was far from the truth, for in fact, the hall was often in use during the entire day. When meals were not in session, it was used for meetings, group activities, training, and more. Today was such an occasion. Today, Tamara was to be familiarized with a new task.

There was only one group in the hall at this time. She and Lady Emmy approached a trestle table at the front of the room. There were a number of others assembled here—all Riders—gathered about a large, open book. Tamara's eyes widened when she saw that it took up nearly the full width of the table.

The happy chatting stopped when she and Lady Emmy were spotted. Those at the table rose to greet them. Tamara admired the respect they paid Lady Emmy. Their expressions mirrored fierce loyalty for their fort leader. She hoped that someday she might be respected in such a way. Respect was not given, it was earned. Lady Emmy had done well earning theirs. That made her the best sort of role model Tamara could have asked for.

After their greeting, Lady Emmy introduced Tamara. All of the Riders gave their names by way of introduction, even though Tamara had already met many of them. There was Amirah—Soren's Rider. Soren was a wing-second to Alark, and Brylee was Alark's Rider. She sat next to Amirah. Then there was Darya. They had spoken once or twice during dinner. Darya had a pleasant, dimpled smile, warm brown eyes, and a round face. Sandra was there too; she was Dagen's Rider. There was also Valda, Maranda, Ellira, Sable...

All too soon, the names of those she did not yet know began slipping from her mind. There were seventeen Riders in total, so it was a lot to remember. Yet, she was determined to remember their names as best as she could. Perhaps later in the day she would go back through them with Lady Emmy to practice.

"Tamara will join us henceforth," Lady Emmy explained when introductions came to an end. "She may not yet be mated, but I see no reason to withhold these duties until then." The Riders gave their approval in the form of complacent nods and welcoming smiles before returning to their task.

"Stand beside me, dear, and I will explain what we are doing here." Lady Emmy led Tamara around the table. At first it seemed silly; Emmy took several loops about the table, arm-in-arm with her, walking at a painfully slow pace. Tamara remained quiet, even though she wanted to ask why they weren't sitting with everyone else. After a few minutes she realized that Emmy was observing the conversations between the group. The Riders at the table were discussing shifts—patrols for each of the Dragondoms in their territory. They used the book to write out names, often scratching out one and replacing it with another. Some of the names had been scratched out so often, that the ink was almost unreadable.

When she had an opportunity, Tamara took a good look at the large book. It was made up entirely of timetables. Someone had taken on the painstaking task of drawing grids on each sheet of parchment, both front and back. It was in these boxes that names, times, and locations were written.

At this point, Emmy began to explain the situation. "Every two weeks, we convene to create patrol schedules. The Riders of Fort Squall's wing-leaders and wing-seconds are required to oversee this duty. Given that you are soon to be the Rider of a wing-second, this will become your responsibility too." Emmy paused as they rounded one end of the table and began their walk to the other end. "We try to plan four weeks in advance, but things often change, especially as of late."

"Is that why they are scratching out and rewriting names in the book?"

"Very good—yes. The book has each wing-leader and wing-second's name, the names of those assigned to their patrol group, and which patrol locations they oversee. Now, by way of a little quiz, let us see how much you remember about your lessons."

At this, Tamara's stomach fluttered. Emmy often gave these little tests to ensure she paid attention. More importantly, Emmy gave them because Tamara needed to grow accustomed to thinking clearly and concisely when put on the spot. If she was to become a fort leader someday, on-the-spot-attention would be a daily requirement.

"Tell me about the fort's patrols," Emmy said. "How do they work? Be thorough in your explanation."

Tamara swallowed against her suddenly dry throat. Her explanation was not as thought-out or elegant as it could have been, but Lady Emmy was not one to be kept waiting, so she began:

"Fort Squall has twelve battle wings, each with a wing-leader and two wing-seconds. But that isn't the same as the patrol groups...Fort Squall's battle wings are split up into smaller groups called patrol groups, usually six or seven strong, depending on the group. Each group has either a wing-leader or a wing-second in command. There are thirty-five patrol groups. They spend approximately two weeks in the field, and two weeks at home. During their time in the wilderness, the groups fly various flight paths that take them past settlements where they check in, carry news, and ensure that the people are safe. While at home, these patrol groups spend time training for aerial combat. The Drengr often spend time training for hand-to-hand combat and swordplay, while their Riders focus on archery, and other duties, like the one taking place here."

"Very good," Emmy said. Tamara breathed a sigh of relief. "Now, tell me about our territory and how it relates to patrols?"

Once more, Tamara's stomach fluttered. She was thoughtful for a moment before she answered. "The territory of Vestur has five Dragondoms. At any given time, there are between fifteen and seventeen patrols out in the field, split between the five Dragondoms of Kadworth, Arpton, Alnore, Shaldorna, and Warsile. Drengr-Rider pairs are expected to know every flight path through every territory during their training. These flight paths are used by each of the patrols to cover as much ground as possible during their time."

"Good, you are progressing well." Emmy led her to an empty place at the table. "Today you will merely observe—in the future you will be active. Sit here and watch the way things are decided. I will leave you for now. When this meeting convenes, you know where to find me."

Emmy bid the table farewell and then departed. Tamara quickly found herself immersed in the task of observation. As she watched, she learned. Assigning patrols was tricky. Certain patrol teams preferred certain flight paths. Other teams preferred new paths. Sometimes this resulted in mature arguments, while other times, the Riders' voices rose to unnecessary heights. When the midday meal arrived, Tamara was surprised by how quickly the time had passed.

Byron found her just after she finished eating and invited her for a walk. "I know you are supposed to take lessons with my mother this afternoon, but I am sure she will forgive you for a few minutes of lateness."

More than happy to accept such an invitation, she eagerly laced her arm through his. They set out on a path that took them outside the fort and into the field beyond. After some coaxing, she told Byron about her morning with the other Riders. He listened patiently, fully focused on her. When she finished, he said at length, "I am glad my mother is exposing you to these rigors early on. I have always trusted her judgement—even if it took me time to realize she was right." A reluctant smile spread across his face.

Tamara, in turn, smiled. "She is wise. But yes, sometimes she can be a bit frustrating in her ways. Still, she is highly respected."

"Yes, to be sure. So is my father. They are both good role models for us." He sighed. "I hope one day I am respected half as much as my father and uncle are."

"Your uncle? As in Lord Reyr?" Tamara thought about the stories she had heard of him—of his losses. "My heart breaks every time I think of how he lost Gemma."

"Aye, a famous story and a sad thing."

They stood in the middle of the field now. The long grass nearly reached Tamara's knees. Much of it had already turned to shades of gold and brown, results of a long summer. But autumn was here now, and as it progressed, the rain would turn the grass green again.

Byron stopped to face her, his expression serious. She frowned and then reminded herself to control her features. "There is something I want to talk to you about, Tamara. I am sure you can guess what it is..."

"Us?"

He nodded. "I know you think it unfair of me to keep you waiting like this—I am sure you do. You have every right to think I am being selfish. I know that I am." He took a deep breath and turned his gaze skyward to watch the approach of a small covey returning from a patrol. "I wanted to be sure I made the right decision."

"And have you? Made a decision, that is..."

"I have." He looked back down at her, his expression one of apprehension, made all the more obvious by his long pause.

"And?"

"I would like us to wait for four weeks. That is all I ask. With war and uncertainty upon us, my peers would have me think that mating is something to be rushed, but I refuse to allow them to make my decisions."

"Maybe your peers see the bigger picture, Byron. Four weeks...four weeks feels like an eternity." A deep frustration took root in the depths of her chest and her breathing heightened. Four weeks versus tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after...Was she missing something? "How will four weeks make any difference?"

"I told you I was being selfish."

She snorted; her composure evaporated. "Selfish?! Is that what you call it? Byron, I am ready. I have already told you that I am. Why must you keep this from me? Why must it be four weeks? Selfish hardly explains that..."

His face changed. He almost looked pained. For a moment, she felt horrid for lashing out at him. Was she overreacting? Was this worth causing him obvious upset?

"The reason it is four weeks, and not two, or tomorrow, is because I would like to get to know you better."

"Get to know me bet—"

"When I make love to you for the first time, Tamara, I prefer we both harbor a passionate love for each other. Duty is one thing—love is another."

She opened her mouth, but her words froze on her tongue. Her mind stumbled to make sense of what he was saying. She already loved him, what more did he want? Her face must have mirrored her internal remonstrations.

"Gods!" He threw up his hands. "I feel as if I am explaining this horribly. Look, I love you Tamara, with all my heart! You are my mate, in that my heart has no choice, nor does my mind, or my body. But when I make love to you, I don't want our bond to be the only deep connection we share. Does that make sense?"

In all this talk of love making, she could do little more than nod quickly. Her emotions were beginning to overwhelm her. What was she supposed to say? Was passion really that important? Did she want to mate with him for the wrong reasons? "I...I guess..."

"You do not need to say anything." He moved forward and swept her into his arms, holding her tightly. At first, she stiffened; he had never done this. Then after several deep breaths, her body began to relax. It almost felt as if she were sinking into him.

When he finally released her, she felt a great deal calmer. "Will you do me the honor of humoring me?" he asked. "Will you afford me the four weeks I request?"

Did she have a choice? Once more, she considered what he said. Perhaps the best thing to do was trust him, even though it went against her own desires. She did love him, didn't she? "Four weeks, then, but no longer."

His face changed and he smiled brightly. "Thank you, my lady." A moment later, he swept her into his arms again. This time, the longer he held her, the more she enjoyed how it felt. Maybe this was what he wanted—to physically create a bond with her before the true bonding took place. Perhaps if they often touched like this, waiting wouldn't be so bad.

"I have something else to tell you," he said after setting her back on her feet. "Even though we will not be mated for four weeks, we have been given clearance to begin our training straight away."

Her hands flew to her stomach as it lurched with excitement. "Truly? You—you mean it? Right now if I wanted?"

"That is what straight away means, is it not?"

She giggled, suddenly overcome. All of her frustration disappeared. "I..." She looked up at the sky. A thrill shot through her, straight to her bones. "I'm ready."

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