by Glenn Wilson
Stiff as all of that was, the tension eased, and the focus of getting Ian prepared to fly was a great distraction from whatever else remained.
“Just ease him forward a little,” Maddy said when he got ready, instructing Ian with verbal white knuckles, “make sure to get enough speed before you pull him up. He knows what to do, just make sure to let him do it. Then just circle—”
“Circle once, then land back on the hill, right,” Ian said. Getting a tighter grip on the reins and repositioning himself, Ian tried to hold his smile in any sort of civilized check, but it was hard when his heart was beating so fast. “Got it. I’m ready.”
Despite all of the apprehensions running across her expression, Maddy was checked a little when he looked back at her, and for a moment they held that, grinning and feeling the air pushing back against them, Cuppy shifting impatiently underneath him.
Somewhere in that, in trying to remember all of the dozens of things he’d been told about how to keep from dying while riding a wyvern, he thought about how much he thought about touching her hair.
“All right,” she said, her cheeks flushed, “—go!”
And with that he leaned forward a bit, gently bouncing his heels into Cuppy, who immediately raised himself. Adjusting in the saddle as Ian was tilted back with the rest of the wyvern, he rode along top of Cuppy. The wyvern stepped with his powerful hind legs alternately, but now things were much faster, not nearly so restrained. Cuppy quickly worked them up to a steady trot down the slight decline of their hill. Ian could feel the ground’s hold grower fainter and later with each successive step, and as his stomach began to mount up with them, Ian slowly pulled his left leg up and in a little.
Cuppy immediately responded, and the two huge wings around and behind Ian were completely unfurled above for a small moment. They were then shoved down at the ground, creating a torrent of moving air all around them. This wasn’t quite lined up with the last step, serving only to slightly lighten it. But before Ian could react at all, Cuppy repeated the motion while pushing off—
And then they were free of the ground, Ian’s breath catching in his lungs as he saw the grass falling away beneath them. His leg was frozen in the position demanding for more height, and Cuppy complied fast enough that it was all Ian could do to press himself back up against the force bearing him down into the saddle.
He let out a breath that was supposed to be a laugh, letting his left leg drop and allowing Cuppy to even out.
“That’s a boy!” Ian called out, leaning forward to look down over the wyvern’s shoulders to the ground flashing by beneath them. Patting the wyvern’s on the neck, he eased the reins one way a little and then back the other, feeling Cuppy turn each way in response.
Laughing for real this time, Ian pulled them in a gradual turn until they were all the around, facing where Maddy was joyfully waving back at them.
Chapter 22
“I have many regrets and past failings, but they do not frighten me nearly as much as the regrets I still have yet to commit.”
—General Benjamin Matters
The next morning shone far less certainly than even the last one had. No additional information about Corporal Wesshire’s whereabouts had been discovered. Their company was left in a sluggish state as they waited for the decisions to be given by their superiors about how to proceed.
It was a late breakfast, with shaving and cleaning done later than usual down in one of the small brooks that flowed from the nearby mountains. Ian and Rory had helped with breakfast. Ian had also volunteered to help Will put away the cooking supplies with some limited direction from Lieutenant Taylor.
“Are there any animals that live in these mountains?” Ian asked, this being only the latest in the long series of questions about the Quacu Mountains that he’d asked Will since they had started approaching them. He couldn’t get over how immense they were, and while he had seen a greater sum of manmade buildings in Wilome, it amazed him that something so deep and natural had existed for countless years.
Will thought for a moment as he reached down from the brisa saddle to take the cookware Ian handed him. “Not really. Not the kind that you think of.”
“That I think of?” Ian asked. “What kind do I think of?”
“There are some birds that hunt other birds and small creatures. Crawling lizards that eat insects …”
“Oh,” Ian said. “You’re right. But don’t any—”
Their brisa gave a sharp huff, tossing its head a bit and nearly moving enough that Will had to grab fast for support.
“Whoa, easy there,” Ian said, patting at its quivering leg, but not to much avail. “It’s all right. Nothing’s wrong.”
Will turned around and went to pet at the brisa’s head. Ian lost sight of him for a moment, but Will quickly whirled back when the wyverns behind them lit up with startled cries.
Ian was in the process of looking back at them, with notions of deciding that something might indeed be wrong when there was a shrill, nearly deafening screech that hit their camp from opposite of the wyverns.
Their party’s startled shouts could barely be heard. Ian instinctively pressed harder against the brisa, but the animal lost all restraint and was lurching forward.
Ian waited a heartbeat before rushing in the opposite direction of the brisa, as it was very much blocking whatever was making that sound. He had just cleared the back legs of the animal when a long mass of gray flew over a significant patch of the blue sky just above their camp. Ian barely had time to register that the flying thing had large wings, something of a head region, and a long tail that looked to be a complicated construction of shard-like plates.
He ran at his sleeping area for his rifle, trying to twist his head around to follow the creature as it swung around their camp—not entirely unlike the wyverns, though much larger and having four equal legs—but Ian nearly tripped and fell. Turning his eyes back to his gear, Ian dove after it just as a few of his company mates in his peripheral awareness were rushing the other way.
Grasping his rifle, Ian loaded and cocked it as he turned around on his knee. Two shots were fired off from their men, but the distance was off, and the shots fell harmlessly behind the creature. The third shot was held until just as the flying creature finished its turn to face their way, and it was brought down just enough just in time to clip the creature’s back just above its wing.
It let out another cry that slammed over them and echoed back from several different directions. It was impossible for Ian to tell if there was any pain in the cry—he could see no reaction or deviation as it propelled itself back after them.
He opened his Allen rifle’s focusing bays all the way, holding his shot for—
The creature—dragon—suddenly jerked up with its wings and simultaneously snapped its tail underneath itself harder and faster than Ian’s eyes could follow. He was barely able to see the bits of black shoot out from it, down and to his left. As he looked that way, he saw the ground leading up to one of their brisa explode from the impact of the projectiles and the brisa’s hind legs get struck backwards, bringing the large animal down with a scream.
Not having much time to register that, the dragon soared fast between them and the brisa. Taking in a breath, Ian brought his rifle around and fired, watching it strike the animal’s rear leg.
“Form up—form up, men!” Ian heard the various cries of his superiors. He saw Will and another Chax running for the reins of the other brisa. Heard shouting from the margrave—
Ian tried to reload while looking up to see the captain pulling Lord Wester away to the side, saw Elizabeth standing not far away.
Ian cursed as the cartridge slipped from fingers. Pulling another out, he glanced straight ahead and saw Maddy some long ways off, by the rocks that were near the streams.
Standing, Ian started running that way, awkwardly thinking to message Rory with what little accuracy he could muster from his left hand while holding a cartridge. But he caught sight of his s
econd not too far off to his right, starting to follow after Ian toward Maddy.
Stuffing the cartridge back in a pocket, Ian dashed at her. She was also running his way. Looking back to their left, he saw the dragon wheeling around tighter for them—they were near the vector of the fleeing brisa—
“Maddy!” he cried, trying to run and shout and motion with his hands—“Get down!”
He saw Rory stopping and firing straight on at the dragon as soon as it started to come back at them. There was a slightly varied screech, and it twisted a little in the air as it came.
Ian closed the last handful of yards to Maddy and forcefully carried her down the rest of the way to the ground. Fortunately, he felt and heard the dragon pass overhead. Lifting himself back up and aiming his rifle, he snapped off a more focused shot that brushed over its spine, to no apparent effect. However, as Ian watched, the dragon continued after the brisa, pressing itself up with its wings again and raising its tail behind it, but just then their party shot a concentrated volley. Some missed, but the force of it was enough to knock the dragon off of its bearings. The subsequent whip of its tail wasn’t nearly as concise as before, sending a cluster of black shards over the top of their company.
“Father!” Maddy cried out, getting up to run that way.
“No!” Ian grabbed her by the wrist—the creature was targeting the brisa—pulling her back away from the rest of the camp. “No—this way!”
He took Maddy running off toward the mountain’s feet, the margrave’s daughter half-running while looking back.
“Come on, faster!” Ian said, also glancing back—thinking that if he could get her somewhere safe he could run back to help the others—but no, he couldn’t leave her—
The dragon was rolling away from the rest of the camp, unfortunately in the same direction where Rory was. Ian’s second had just finished reloading and put another smart shot into the dragon’s chest. It gave an incensed screech and turned after him.
To his credit, Rory lost no time in losing his footing. He kept to the ground, and the dragon dove down at him with first its mouth, then its claws. It hit the ground and covered the area in front of Rory, but whether it was able to drop fast enough to hit Rory, Ian couldn’t see.
“Rory—” Ian couldn’t hear if he had said it out loud, the din was so—
Oh no, Ian prayed as the dragon continued back up past a still Rory and in their direction. Its eyes immediately locked on them.
They were some distance away, but not enough—he pulled harder at Maddy’s hand and looked back at the mountain front. There were no rocks large enough—but there were many caves and crags cut out all along it. Knowing they couldn’t afford any delay, Ian dropped his rifle and half-pulled, half-helped Maddy over the uneven gravel and larger stones they began to hit. The larger hole that he had been aiming for was too far away, he steered them toward a closer one that wasn’t as tall.
They weren’t far away, fifty feet—the dragon let out a screech behind them, closing the gap.
Oh God, Ian thought, if the dragon threw—twenty feet—anything at them now it wouldn’t matter—
They burst over the built-up threshold just in front of the cave and then mostly ducked, partially fell into the opening.
The sudden sound of a metallic material on rock exploded behind them, and tiny bits of something he couldn’t see in the shadows cut into his neck and the back of his head.
He tripped and fell over some rock, nearly bringing Maddy down with him. But he surged forward, deeper into the cave as he flailed about in the sudden gloom for cover—
But then there was a multi-layered collision well behind them, a rattling impact—the dragon hitting the entrance, Ian thought—that resounded down through the cave in front of them.
“Go—” he was calling, even as they went farther, and there was a shuddering crash behind them. And then more, succeeding crashing came of rock on rock on rock and the sunlight being crushed in cascading segments.
Maddy tripped as well, but he half-carried her farther, even as he felt a falling rock cut sharp just behind his shoulder, smaller stones dropping all around them, and the dust falling in sheets.
Finally, the remaining of their momentum ran into some boulder that was low but wide. Stopping, having to stop, they sat huddled against it. Their gasps became discernible again as the tide of moving stone slowly stopped above them and where they had entered, leaving them in utter darkness.
End of Book 1
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