Sebright proved to have been observant, as Wulfstan soon came upon the sight of a number of the winged beasts that he was searching out. All of them were tethered. A few were eating food, others were drinking water out of buckets, and still others were lying in repose on the ground.
Wulfstan had never approached a number of Himmerosen so closely before. He was struck by how much they resembled a pack of huge war dogs, in many ways. The contours of their bodies were more elongated than blocky, but the creatures still had a rugged appearance that began with their large heads, and broad, powerful jaws. A few of the creatures eyed him warily as he approached the cleared space that they were being kept in, and he could sense the innate intelligence within their alert gazes.
A small number of Saxan guards were watching over the Himmerosen, from the edges of the space. A few other men were amongst the creatures, seeing to the various needs of the beasts, whether brushing their coats, ferrying more water or food in, or resetting saddles and harnesses. Though the steeds were resting, it was clear that they were being kept in a state of readiness.
A diminutive man was coming up right behind Wulfstan, as he idly watched the scene before him, drawing his attention as he heard the man’s footsteps shuffling along the grass. The man bore a saddle along with him, and had the impassive look of a worker conducting routine chores.
“Can I ask you a question?” Wulfstan asked, as the man neared.
The man blinked at the unexpected interruption, and eyed him for a second, slowing down and drawing to a stop. “I suppose so… but be quick, as I have much to do here.”
Fidgety, and brimming with impatience, the man looked expectantly at Wulfstan through his small, deep-set eyes.
“Are there any really strong, rested steeds here?” Wulfstan finally asked, glancing towards the Himmerosen.
“A few reserve mounts. But most of the others have little energy, after the fighting this morning,” the man replied tersely. He then started to turn to go.
“Wait, just one thing more,” Wulfstan urged.
“Yes?” the man replied acerbically. “Be quick about it.”
“Do they really ride like horses?” Wulfstan asked. “I have always wanted to know that.”
“A strange time to be curious. As to your question, I just tend to them, I don’t ride them. Might ask that fellow there, he is about to go on patrol soon, “ the man said, indicating a lean man, of medium height, who was talking to a couple of the spear-bearing sentries nearby. The attendant then added, with an air of great impatience. “Now, if you will excuse me.”
Without another word, or waiting for Wulfstan’s reply, he scurried off, lugging his saddle along with him towards the gathering of Himmerosen.
Wulfstan’s attention was already focused on the other man, talking with the sentries. He eyed the sky rider for a few moments. The man was probably a little older than he was, perhaps by around five years. He was dressed in a dark tunic and light brown trousers, his legs wrapped snugly in bandelettes.
A segmented iron helm rested upon his head. The iron frame band crossing over the top of the helm featured a raised iron decoration, fashioned into the figure of a boar with bright tusks of copper.
The adornment had a thick line of true boar’s bristle mounted down the length of its back, accentuating its prominence atop the helm. The nasal guard in the front was inlaid with a Sacred Spear of pure silver, the point of it oriented upwards.
The crest ornament alone identified the man as a northerner like Wulfstan. The boar was one of the symbols long cherished by the old kingdom of the north, and even hailed from the times before the western faith had taken its first steps into their land.
The sky rider had a relaxed posture, with a narrow face, a small mouth bordered with full lips, and a short, rounded nose. He had a light brown moustache, and was otherwise devoid of facial hair, except for a stubble of growth that created a faded shadow across the surface of his face. His brown eyes were calmly oriented upon Wulfstan, as he approached him.
“Are you getting ready to go on patrol?” Wulfstan queried.
“Yes,” the sky rider replied. “Within this very hour. Is there something you need?”
Wulfstan nodded. “Yes, something very important. Can I speak with you for a moment.”
The two guards, both probably ceorls themselves, as they were clad in mail, helm, and had quality shields and weaponry, glanced between Wulfstan and the sky rider.
“I’ll be back in a moment, and I’ll finish my tale,” the sky rider remarked to them. They nodded back, as he walked a few paces away with Wulfstan, where they could speak with more privacy. Looking to Wulfstan, he asked, “And I must ask you first, by what name are you called?”
“I am Wulfstan, of Sussachia, a ceorl of the lands of Ealdorman Byrtnoth,” Wulfstan said, introducing himself.
“And I am Ulfcytel, from Wessachia, a thane of Ealdorman Morcar’s lands, not far at all from yours,” he replied in an amicable manner. Wulfstan found himself taking an instant liking to Ulfcytel.
“Wessachia is a long march from my home area,” Wulfstan remarked. “I have yet to visit your province.”
Ulfcytel grinned lightly. “It may be that distances seem shorter to a sky rider… you will have to forgive me for the manner in which I estimate such things.”
“I imagine so,” Wulfstan commented. He took a deep breath, and fixed the sky rider with a solemn look. “I know that you have little time. I also have little time, and an urgent task lies ahead of me. I am no sky rider, but time demands that I need a steed.”
The other man’s eyes widened considerably at the entreaty. It was clearly not the kind of request that he had been expecting. “You mean to ride a sky steed? And I sense that you have never ridden before?”
“Is it true that it is not unlike riding upon a horse, in some ways?” Wulfstan queried. His tone strongly conveyed that this was no jest, of any sort.
“In some ways, yes, but in others it is entirely different,” Ulfcytel said, regarding Wulfstan with an expression that displayed both caution and curiosity. “And no person can say how a man reacts when going up into the skies. I have seen many good warriors that wished to be sky riders, who were unable to master their fears when taken away from solid footing.”
“Then it is my risk to take,” Wulfstan replied, holding Ulfcytel’s gaze. “Can you tell me something of the use of the reins? In guiding the sky steeds?”
Ulfcytel shook his head. “Even if I did, you could not take one of the steeds out of here. I do not have such authority.”
Wulfstan could only speak the truth in response.
“This is a desperate time, Ulfcytel of Wessachia. You do not need me to tell you that… your own eyes tell you that truth. I was sent forth by Ealdorman Aelfric on a long journey last night, into land held by the enemy, and I have returned. I now have a task even more important, one that may bring hope to all of us. There is no time to seek out the greater thanes such as Aelfric, and I can only do this if I have a sky steed to ride. Know that this task will not take me into enemy lands, and I will return from it as well.”
“You cannot just take a sky steed, Wulfstan,” Ulfcytyel responded, in the kind of manner that displayed the sky rider’s disbelief that he even had to say the words aloud to Wulfstan.
“Do you not keep spare mounts?” Wulfstan pressed.
Ulfcytel grew silent for a moment. When he finally spoke again, his voice was laden with sorrow. “Great tragedy has befallen us this morning, and there are several more steeds than trained riders in this camp now.”
“I heard something of the fighting, after I had returned,” Wulfstan replied in a sympathetic voice. “Though I know little of what happened, I am very sorry to hear of any losses, as I have come to know loss well in the past couple of days.”
Ulfcytel gaze bored into Wulfstan, and his voice was suddenly tense. “And what is this matter that cannot wait?”
Wulfstan refused to give a falsehood to Ulfcytel, b
ut he also did not choose to offer overly much in the way of explanation. He hoped that a vague answer would suffice, as full details would have the other thinking him to be lost in the grip of madness.
“I am going to try and summon some more help, from a source that none of our leaders has yet considered. I do not have time to try and convince them, nor would they give me the time, as they are now in the thick of the battle. That is why every moment counts, and why I am at your mercy, Ulfcytel,” Wulfstan said.
“Are you certain that the leaders of this army have not considered whatever it is that you wish to do?” Ulfcytel asked.
“Thanes… counts… ealdorman… none of them would try what I am to try, nor would they even think of what I wish to do. I have my reasons for keeping my own confidence on this. I am just one man, and would be asking you for just one steed, in order to gain a chance to bring great help to the Saxan defense,” Wulfstan said, his voice taking on a pleading tone.
“You appear convinced of this path that you wish to take, and I do not doubt your sincerity,” Ulfcytel stated, staring at Wulfstan intently, with a tense expression.
“It is a chance, nothing less, and nothing more. But it will not take a steed away from a rider, and will only risk the life of one man
… a man who is willing to risk it. And you and I both know that many more men fall with each minute that passes,” Wulfstan continued.
The answer must have seemed reasonable enough to Ulfcytel, or at least it had connected to something personal, deep within him. The sky rider did not refuse Wulfstan outright, as he seemed to become lost for a moment in his private thoughts.
There was probably not one Saxan anywhere on the Plains of Athelney that day who would not welcome a new influx of support, during such a desperate time. Ulfcytel was no exception.
“Wulfstan of Sussachia, do you speak the truth in this? Do you really seek a new source of help? One that will matter?” Ulfcytel questioned him, his rigid gaze locked onto Wulfstan’s eyes.
Wulfstan did not so much as blink.
“Help that would not come from any other place, currently in the minds of those in authority over us,” Wulfstan answered firmly. “And yes, one that would matter greatly, if this help can indeed be gained.”
“Have you ridden horses before?” Ulfcytyl asked.
Wulfstan inclined his head. “I have.”
Slowly, Ulfcytel’s head tilted up and down in a slow nod, as he emerged from the depths of his rumination. It was clear that strong misgivings still tugged at the mind of the Saxan sky rider.
“I will take you with me, when I go up for my patrol of the rear areas. Know that this choice of yours is likely folly, but I will not stand in the way, if you truly think that you can find us some significant help. We have lost enough already,” Ulfcytel said, the look in his eyes becoming momentarily downcast.
“I cannot say whether my task will come to any good, but it will do no harm, and will not burden our army any worse… thank you, Ulfcytel,” Wulfstan responded, feeling relieved.
“I will not be able to make you a skilled rider. I only can give you what you need to survive a flight. You will follow my instructions very carefully, every word,” Ulfcytel said, in a sharper tone.
Wulfstan nodded resolutely. “I will.”
“Then wait here, and I will call you when I am ready,” Ulfcytel said. He shook his head again, as if he could not believe what he had just acquiesced to. “You are fortunate that I am going alone on patrol, for even if one other was with me, I do not doubt that you would be denied… perhaps we should set to flight now, before good sense comes over me.”
Walking away, Ulfcytel went back over to the two sentries, where he talked with them for a short while longer. He then walked into the midst of the Himmerosen, striding towards one steed in particular. He rubbed the side of its neck, and looked the winged creature over, as if evaluating its condition.
Ulfcytel straightened up, glanced over towards Wulfstan, and summoned him over. He then called out for some of the camp attendants. When they had come over to him, he instructed them to saddle and prepare the harness on the mount that he had been inspecting, one whose name was Spirit Wing. He exhorted them to make haste, and the camp attendants nodded dutifully, hurrying off.
While he and Wulfstan were waiting, he talked with Wulfstan about the Himmerosen, their nature, and the means of riding upon one in the sky. Ulfcytel proceeded very carefully over the basic methods of getting the Himmerosen to rise, to drop, to speed up, to slow down, or to turn to the left and right.
With the exception of rising and lowering in elevation, the general techniques were not all that different from those used with horses. Those similar techniques would guide the steed when it walked upon land as well. The close relation of most of the techniques to riding a horse came as a very welcome relief to Wulfstan, and he realized that it was probably one of the major elements in Ulfcytel’s decision.
As Wulfstan harbored a little experience with riding horses, he was not worried about retaining a majority of the instructions. Only the unfamiliar, primary elements involved in guiding the steed higher or lower once airborne, and the impending sensation of flight, would be of any significant challenge.
Wulfstan then strolled along with Ulfcytel as the sky rider proceeded over to another Himmerosen, which enthusiastically greeted the sky rider with anxious whines and several licks upon his face. Ulfcytel pressed his head to the forehead of the steed, while rubbing both sides of its broad head with his hands, demonstrating genuine affection for creature. He then took up the steed’s reins and held them loosely, as it was already saddled and harnessed.
“This is my steed, Cloud Runner,” Ulfcytel said. “He and I have soared across Saxan skies far too many times to count, and he has always brought me back to Saxan ground safely.”
Wulfstan could hear the strong resonance of the rider’s great esteem for his steed through the words. It was plainly evident that a powerful bond existed between the two of them.
It was not much longer before the two camp attendants approached them, leading a fully harnessed, saddled Spirit Wing forward on tethers. They brought the Himmerosen up alongside Cloud Runner.
The two creatures looked rested and healthy enough, with a luxuriant sheen to their black and brown coats. A spry look was reflected in their eyes, and their postures were firm and proud. Wulfstan’s steed was just a little shorter, and slightly narrower of back, than Ulfcytyl’s, minor differences that could only be noted when the two creatures were standing side by side.
“I took the liberty of choosing for you a steed that has good speed, and most excellent endurance,” Ulfcytel commented. “The fastest of our steeds must remain with the trained warriors, but this one will allow you to travel as far as any of their kind could. As you heard, his name is Spirit Wing… not too different of a name from Prince Aidan’s own horse… but it is a proper name, as I believe this one could reach Palladium itself if it tried.”
Wulfstan worked to take the comments in stride, though the Saxan sky rider had unintentionally struck very close to the essence of his upcoming mission. Endurance was exactly what Wulfstan needed in a sky steed, and he could not help but think that the All-Father had just given him a bountiful grace with the particular steed that Ulfcytel had selected.
“I want you to know that I am not seeking to go quite that far. I do intend to stay in the world,” Wulfstan replied, in jest, with a light-hearted smile.
“I hope you do as well,” Ulfcytel responded, with an easygoing laugh.
At Ulfctyel’s encouragement, Wulfstan placed his left foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up into the saddle. It was a movement that was more awkward than mounting a horse, as the saddle itself sat a little forward of the creature’s great set of wings.
In a practical sense, it was like he was seated on a six-limbed creature, positioned where the saddle was arranged close to the front limbs, at the base of the Himmeros’s burly neck. The location of the s
addle, and some marked differences in the design of the saddle as compared to those used on horses, required a little adjustment on Wulfstan’s part. Otherwise, the feeling of sitting upon the creature was relatively familiar, not all that far removed from the sensation of being astride a horse.
Turning his head, he looked down the length of the creature’s body, studying the broad wings that were now partially outstretched. He marveled at the sculpted, pronounced musculature attached to those wings.
The awareness of what he was about to attempt was beginning to fully dawn on him, accelerating rapidly as he looked at the wings. Wulfstan began to feel his heart rate rise, the beats quickening as a feeling of lightheadedness came over him.
In only a few moments he was going to be experiencing flight, for the first time in his life. Even more daunting, everything he sought to do depended upon his acclimating immediately to the act of flying.
He had no way of knowing how he would react, once in the sky. As Ulfcytel had said, some who were excellent, brave warriors while on the ground could not adjust to the vastly different environment of flight.
Wulfstan would not know the answers for himself until he was already in the air. He wrenched his thoughts away from the troubling uncertainty, knowing that worrying about it could profit him nothing.
Ulfcytel had mounted by then, and brought his steed around to face Wulfstan’s. Ulfcytl guided Wulfstan through the securing of the additional leather straps that would hold him in the saddle, in the instance that the steed had to make any sudden movements, or go upside down.
Wulfstan tightened the straps and buckled their ends, gaining a little more confidence from the feeling of being anchored into the saddle. Ulfcytel then questioned Wulfstan briefly on the various methods for guiding the steeds in the air. Wulfstan answered the veteran sky rider to the other’s satisfaction.
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