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Authors: E. K. Johnston
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assigned to them. She didnât know anything about water battles; they didnât even train us for them here because they lacked the facilities. She didnât look frightened, though. Once the initial surprise wore off, she only looked angry, and determined. I was starting to worry. Despite not being in a conflict zone, Sadieâs assignment was overly dangerous because of the underwater aspect. She was good and a fast learner, but her mentor had better be amazing too, or sheâd be in real trouble.
At last, it was our turn. Iâd lost track of who had been sent where, of the count of dragon slayers already deployed to the Middle East. They wouldnât overload the region, but surely, surely we would be sent where the fighting was thickest. Owen had the most experience. Owen had the most training. Owen had the legacy.
The cornet-sergeantâs face tightened even more. I grabbed Sadieâs hand and she winced at how hard Iâd gripped her. There were notes skittering everywhere across my skin. It was worse than the first time Iâd sat out of dragon slaying in the shelter with Hannah. I wasnât the only one to be unnerved. Around the mess, those who had been paying better attention than I began to whisper.
âThe good places,â whispered Mikitka from across the table. âTheyâre all taken.â
âThey canât be,â hissed Dorsey.
âI think heâs right,â said Wilkinson.
âOwen Thorskard,â said the cornet-sergeant, his voice still ringing clear and true in spite of his distress. âFort Calgary, Alberta.â
Fourteen weeks of training was enough to keep the hall from bursting into pandemonium, but only just. Our support squad was in shock. Sadie bent my fingers back accidentally and then released me entirely when she realized she was probably pulling on my scars.
But I was only looking at Owen. And Owen didnât look surprised.
âAlberta,â he said, theoretically to everyone, but mostly to me. He was apologizing. I had been so sure that weâd be sent away, made into someone elseâs problem. I had put too much faith in the autonomy of the Oil Watch. I had hoped we would be leaving Canada, and that when we came back, weâd just return quietly to Trondheim and save chickens and sheep.
âAlberta,â I said, eyes on his. It wasnât what we wanted. It wasnât what we deserved. It was still under the watchful eye of a distrusting government. It was going to be ridiculously cold, when we werenât being lit on fire by the local fauna. But there were dragons there, and oil, and I could write songs about that.
THE STORY OF ALBERTA
Before a little queen moved a hatching ground and changed the way the British Empire dealt with dragons, there was a war. Actually, there were two wars, but in Canada, we are mostly concerned about the second one. The first war, an admittedly justified one wherein the goal was self-determination and the right to taxation with representation, saw thousands of British Loyalists retreat to Upper Canada and the shelter of the Crown. The French nationalists who supported American independence provided some dragon slayers, but many of the best trained came north with the Redcoats, rather than join Washington and the others in their rebellion against the King. The resulting American nation was woefully underpopulated by what the Founding Fathers deemed to be âresponsibleâ dragon slayers, that is to say, dragon slayers who were neither Catholic, German, First Nation, nor Black.
For thirty years, the Americans did their best and paid for their war time and time again, as dragons flew unchecked from New Hampshire to Georgia. A Union was formed. The new country tried to train new dragon slayers as fast as they could. But it wasnât enough.
In 1812, James Madison took advantage of pro-war sentiment and turned the fledgling American army loose on Upper Canada. Bolstered by
At last, it was our turn. Iâd lost track of who had been sent where, of the count of dragon slayers already deployed to the Middle East. They wouldnât overload the region, but surely, surely we would be sent where the fighting was thickest. Owen had the most experience. Owen had the most training. Owen had the legacy.
The cornet-sergeantâs face tightened even more. I grabbed Sadieâs hand and she winced at how hard Iâd gripped her. There were notes skittering everywhere across my skin. It was worse than the first time Iâd sat out of dragon slaying in the shelter with Hannah. I wasnât the only one to be unnerved. Around the mess, those who had been paying better attention than I began to whisper.
âThe good places,â whispered Mikitka from across the table. âTheyâre all taken.â
âThey canât be,â hissed Dorsey.
âI think heâs right,â said Wilkinson.
âOwen Thorskard,â said the cornet-sergeant, his voice still ringing clear and true in spite of his distress. âFort Calgary, Alberta.â
Fourteen weeks of training was enough to keep the hall from bursting into pandemonium, but only just. Our support squad was in shock. Sadie bent my fingers back accidentally and then released me entirely when she realized she was probably pulling on my scars.
But I was only looking at Owen. And Owen didnât look surprised.
âAlberta,â he said, theoretically to everyone, but mostly to me. He was apologizing. I had been so sure that weâd be sent away, made into someone elseâs problem. I had put too much faith in the autonomy of the Oil Watch. I had hoped we would be leaving Canada, and that when we came back, weâd just return quietly to Trondheim and save chickens and sheep.
âAlberta,â I said, eyes on his. It wasnât what we wanted. It wasnât what we deserved. It was still under the watchful eye of a distrusting government. It was going to be ridiculously cold, when we werenât being lit on fire by the local fauna. But there were dragons there, and oil, and I could write songs about that.
THE STORY OF ALBERTA
Before a little queen moved a hatching ground and changed the way the British Empire dealt with dragons, there was a war. Actually, there were two wars, but in Canada, we are mostly concerned about the second one. The first war, an admittedly justified one wherein the goal was self-determination and the right to taxation with representation, saw thousands of British Loyalists retreat to Upper Canada and the shelter of the Crown. The French nationalists who supported American independence provided some dragon slayers, but many of the best trained came north with the Redcoats, rather than join Washington and the others in their rebellion against the King. The resulting American nation was woefully underpopulated by what the Founding Fathers deemed to be âresponsibleâ dragon slayers, that is to say, dragon slayers who were neither Catholic, German, First Nation, nor Black.
For thirty years, the Americans did their best and paid for their war time and time again, as dragons flew unchecked from New Hampshire to Georgia. A Union was formed. The new country tried to train new dragon slayers as fast as they could. But it wasnât enough.
In 1812, James Madison took advantage of pro-war sentiment and turned the fledgling American army loose on Upper Canada. Bolstered by
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