by T M Miller
Hawke paced up the hill dressed in his finest riding gear and eyes shining. He stopped short when he saw Jaron and Rella, obviously wondering what they were doing here. Carna approached him then and he gave a slight bow to the Raken lord. ‘Good morning, Lord Carna.’
Carna merely nodded. ‘Lord Hawke, we have Tarp here for you to ride, Flick’s mount.’ Carna indicated Flick who stood arms folded as he leant back against Tarp’s shoulder. Carna stared over at the young rider and Flick sighed again, pushed himself straight and bowed to Hawke, who clapped his hands in delight.
‘I am so looking forward to this!’ Hawke said, forgetting to acknowledge Flick. He whipped out a pair of fur-lined green velvet riding gloves from his belt. They matched his tunic and breeches exactly, while the boots were polished and buffed. His cloak was fur-lined in the finest ermine; the young lord had obviously dressed up for the occasion, Jaron thought.
‘Well, first you have to meet Tarp,’ Flick said.
Hawke didn’t deign to even nod in reply and eyed up Jaron and Rella, who Jaron had pulled safely away to one side. Rella dropped a short curtsy while Jaron kept a hand covering his neck as he bowed. Hawke kept his kelpra, Dash, at the yard although Jaron suspected it was more for prestige than any real interest in the beasts. He hadn’t ridden since Dash had snapped at him a month ago, leaving Sanra to exercise him. Hawke’s loud voice and imperious manner unsettled the beasts and put them all at risk. Sprague didn’t encourage him to visit often.
‘Why aren’t you at the stables?’ Hawke called across to Jaron now and pulled on his riding gloves while he waited for an answer.
‘I’ve been given this day by Sprague, my lord,’ Jaron answered, thinking that if only Hawke could read his thoughts he would know he would rather be anywhere else but here.
Carna took a few steps over to stand at Rella’s side. ‘I invited the boy and his mother,’ he intoned, staring at Hawke.
Jaron stood passively as Hawke stared at him. The young lord was distracted then as Flick led a lumbering Tarp over with a hand under his firedrake’s chin. They were more ungainly on the ground than Jaron would have thought.
Hawke strode impatiently towards Tarp. The firedrake stopped short at his confident approach and raised his head high on his long neck.
‘Best stand still, my lord, and let Tarp have a sniff at you,’ Flick said. He clicked at Tarp who cocked his head at his rider and lowered himself again. Flick led him right up to Hawke who did as he was told, looking in awe at the firedrake. Jaron didn’t envy the young lord his ride. It felt surprisingly familiar, however, to hear Flick click to his firedrake just as he did to Caliber.
Tarp lowered his head and sniffed delicately at Hawke. He blew out a huffing snort and took a step back. Flick encouraged him forward again, but Tarp refused to lower his head nor even look at the lord. ‘He won’t take him,’ Jaron heard Carna murmur. He raised his voice to call over. ‘Lord Hawke, I’m afraid it won’t be possible to ride Tarp today.’
‘What?’ Hawke was astounded. ‘Why not?’
‘The firedrake will not allow you on his back and we have to respect his wishes.’
‘His wishes?’ Hawke flapped a hand at Tarp. ‘But he is just a beast!’ He glared at Flick. ‘Surely as his master you must insist he take me!’ It looked to Jaron like he might even stamp a foot but he didn’t. ‘I demand you exercise your right as his rider!’
Flick froze and his eyes went flat.
Carna strode over, hand held aloft to the young Raken rider. ‘You have no such rights, my Lord Hawke, where a rider and his firedrake are concerned. I am sorry,’ he said, looking anything but.
Hawke gave the Raken lord a disgusted look. ‘You are here at my father’s request, I think you will find I have every right.’ Then, before anyone could react, he had sprung to Tarp’s side and grabbed hold of the stirrup that hung down next to the firedrake’s belly.
Tarp gave an unearthly screech and reared up onto his hind legs, wings spread wide as he leapt away. Jaron gasped in fear and grabbed his mother’s hand, pulling her further away down the hill. She let him do it, transfixed by the catastrophe unfolding on the hilltop.
Flick was trying to calm his firedrake but Tarp was too incensed to be placated. Swinging his neck round, he snapped at Hawke with a flash of long pointed teeth, but the young lord, eyes wide now with terror, flattened himself against the firedrake’s side and was mercifully too close to Tarp’s body; the teeth missed him by inches. Carna leapt to grab Hawke but Tarp gyrated away again, twisting and bucking in fury. Hawke seemed unable or too frozen with fear to let go of the stirrup leather. Tarp suddenly opened his wings and threw himself from the hill into the air, taking the young lord with him. Jaron could see Hawke’s legs flailing as he was lifted away and felt his own heart quail in horror.
‘Tarp!’ Flick shouted, skidding to the plateau edge.
‘Oh my,’ Rella muttered, sounding remarkably calm. ‘Stupid boy.’
‘Scorched scales!’ Carna swore. ‘Flick!’ He ran to his firedrake, Flick a step behind him. Carna jumped onto his red’s lifted foreleg and swung himself up on Madrag in one fluent motion, grabbing Flick’s outstretched arm to pull him up behind him. The red firedrake opened his wings, crouched, and gave an almighty leap into the air, sweeping his wings down in one powerful beat that caused Jaron and Rella to protect their eyes from the gust. When they lowered their arms Madrag was up, sharply angling his body as he banked on one wingtip to turn and pursue Tarp.
Tarp was terrible to hear – the green firedrake screamed and roared, dove and twisted in the air as he tried to dislodge Hawke. Rella eagerly dragged Jaron back up the rise to get a clearer view and, feeling a little calmer now the firedrake had lifted off, Jaron shielded his eyes with one hand as he watched, wondering how much longer the lord could hang on for.
Not much, as it turned out. Madrag was catching the smaller firedrake up as they flew over the lake when Tarp dropped a wing and, with a cry, the young lord lost his grip. Jaron gasped as Hawke fell like a stone, arms and legs thrashing madly. Carna put his firedrake into a dive after him, but it was too late. Hawke hit the water with an almighty splash, leaving Carna to level out just in time before they followed him in.
Mother and son stood side by side staring at the spot he had gone into the water. ‘There!’ Rella said and pointed. ‘See his head?’
Jaron squinted against the sun and could see Hawke’s head bobbing up and down, his arms flailing. They listened to his faint shouts and cries.
‘Oh my,’ Rella said. ‘Looks like our lord can swim, at least.’ They looked at each other and Rella burst out laughing. Jaron felt the last of his adrenaline fizzing out of his fingertips.
‘And you say they won’t hurt us?’ he said incredulously.
Rella’s laugh cut off and she looked seriously at him. ‘These won’t, if you treat them right. I was brought up with the Raken, you often choose to forget that, darling.’
They watched a fishing boat rowing slowly out to where Hawke was still shouting and waving from the middle of the lake. Tarp had flown over to join Madrag and the two firedrake were now flying side by side. Jaron squinted from under his hand; he could make out Flick leaning over towards his firedrake on Madrag’s back. Tarp moved to fly right below the big red. Then Flick leant even further out and suddenly fell from behind Carna.
‘Oh!’ Jaron said in surprise, but Flick landed safely right in the middle of Tarp’s back. In fact, Jaron was certain Tarp had adjusted to make sure he caught his rider. He realised he was even thinking of the beasts by their names now. He shook his head, disgusted with himself. Then he remembered something and turned to his mother. ‘You said something about Carna’s firedrake.’
‘Yes?’
‘That he was always…’ Jaron hesitated, hardly believing he was going to say this out loud to describe a firedrake. ‘A gentle soul.’
His mother smiled. ‘That’s right, I always liked Carna’s firedrake.’ So, she had already known
the Raken lord in her previous life. Jaron stared at his mother as he digested this.
She must have noticed the look on her son’s face for her own turned serious. ‘I keep telling you, Jaron, the firedrake are not all like that wild rogue that burned our village. I spent many years with the Raken and for us the firedrake were part of our lives.’
‘Us.’
‘Hmm?’
‘You said ‘us’ so you think yourself as one of them,’ he pointed with his chin to the two firedrake who were now hovering over the fishing boat that was in the process of hauling Hawke, legs kicking, over the side. Rella didn’t reply immediately and he tore his gaze away from the firedrake to look at her.
She stood facing him, arms folded. ‘I do, Jaron, I always have done.’
Jaron swallowed. He made to turn away but she pulled him back towards her. ‘I am of Raken blood, Jaron. They are my people and they are yours too.’ She dropped her hand from his arm and gazed at him, waiting for him to digest her words.
‘Oh,’ Jaron said. He felt his throat constrict. ‘I’m sorry, you stayed away because of me.’ How could he not have seen this before, the sacrifices his mother was making for him?
She put her arm around his shoulders. ‘Don’t be, never be sorry. I don’t regret it, of course I don’t.’ She stepped back and ruffled his hair, pushing back his fringe. ‘You are my life, Jaron, and will always come first. I just knew you weren’t ready.’ She hesitated. ‘I look on the firedrake coming here as a blessing, Jaron.’
A blessing. Jaron watched the firedrake flying back towards them. ‘I thought he had asked you and you didn’t think you could refuse, him being the lord of the Raken.’
‘What?’ She sounded angry for a moment, but then, unexpectedly, she smiled at him. ‘Yet you came to rescue me, even though you were terrified.’ She hugged him. ‘You are very brave.’
‘It will always be difficult,’ Jaron said, his words muffled by her dress. ‘I can’t just change how I feel about them. And – and I don’t see why I should, Mum.’
She held him away and looked him in the eyes. ‘Jaron, I want you to be happy, son, regardless of how it turns out.’
The firedrakes’ shadows fell across them. The beasts were pulling their wings out to brake. Jaron felt the fear fizz again and tried to ignore it. ‘I thought they were going to fly you off,’ he said and heard her laugh.
‘As though I would leave you. Anyway,’ his mother sighed, ‘there’s the race to get over first. I want you to concentrate on that, Jaron, give yourself every chance.’
Jaron nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll–’ his eyes widened. ‘Oh, Caliber! I’ve got to go.’ He made to leave then hesitated. ‘Mum? Coming with me?’
She looked over at Carna as his firedrake landed. ‘I’ll be heading off to the kitchens after you, son.’ When he still didn’t move she looked at him and smiled. ‘I’ll be fine, Jaron. Off you go.’
He had left Caliber too long as it was. With no other choice Jaron was forced to leave her with Carna and set off down the hill as fast as he could, his left hip jarring his knee at every step.
Caliber was fine, although the oak’s trunk looked pretty shredded by now. The kelpra turned his head on hearing him approach. There was a thick log in his mouth and it splintered in two with one crunch of Caliber’s strong jaws.
‘Good boy,’ Jaron said, relieved to see him still there. He managed to get onto the kelpra’s back by standing on a rock. It wasn’t easy, and his left hip felt heavy after all the running about he had done. He was grateful Caliber stood still and waited for him.
As he was cantering back along the length of the lake, he came across a bedraggled Hawke being helped from the fishing boat to shore. Hawke glared at him with unsuppressed rage and Jaron studiously averted his eyes from the young lord as he passed.
When they approached the yard gates Jaron wondered how he would ever be able to conquer this fear; he wasn’t sure that he wanted to. Something his mother said had been nagging at him and he turned their conversation over in his mind, searching for it as Caliber stopped of his own accord near the mounting block. Then he remembered what it was. She had said she wouldn’t leave him. ‘First, there was the race to get over.’ He wondered what was coming next and felt certain once the Great Wake was done she would leave, return to the city of Rakenar. And because he was still so scared of the firedrake he was going to be left behind.
6
In front of the packed stands, three horse races had already been run that morning in the growing heat. As was the pattern in Tiara, the plains sent blessed relief at noon in the form of a strong wind that now pulled at the flags spaced at intervals around the circular track. Tiara’s own flag, red with a black bull and a sheaf of barley, stood tallest. There was palpable excitement in the air now as a wall of faces looked on in expectation of the highlight of the day: the Annual Kelpra Great Wake Trophy. Even the stewards earned applause as they started to lift the temporary fencing at one end of the track to open up the exit for the beasts to follow the cross-country part of the race. When the kelpra began to be released into the arena, the stewards retreated behind narrow protective walls of thick wood that stood at intervals around the edges of the arena. When Brill galloped in on Monty, the cheering swelled to a crescendo.
The noise didn’t help Jaron’s nerves any from where he waited in the kelpra racing yard. He was mounted up ready on Caliber, who now started jogging on the spot in his excitement. As the home favourite, they were the last to leave. The wait had been unbearable as the other entrants had been let out of their cages one by one and ridden out. Sprague and Liam’s faces were now running in sweat from under their helmets. They both wore protective stiff leather armour to protect them, just in case.
‘Ready?’ Liam’s red face was grinning up at him, a metal-banded glove pressed against Caliber’s shoulder.
Jaron swallowed. ‘As I’ll ever be.’ He pulled down his goggles and shortened the reins.
Sprague had his elbow jammed into Caliber’s neck on Jaron’s other side and was straining with the effort of pitting his considerable brawn against the kelpra. ‘He’s eager, I’ll say that,’ he grunted.
Sanra and Tucker were waiting for them at the gates and pulled them open as the entourage approached. As Caliber jogged through they fell into step beside Jaron. ‘Good luck,’ Sanra said, her eyes shining with excitement.
Jaron thought his voice might betray his nerves so all he could do was smile his thanks. Tucker’s red face looked like it was about to explode and he was too excited to even speak.
As they jogged up the tunnel, Sprague gave last minute instructions and Jaron tried to concentrate over the noise coming from the stands. ‘Let him have a canter as you go in, you won’t be able to stop him when the crowd welcomes you. He’ll have a better chance of settling if he’s moving through all that noise. Remember what I told you, keep your distance and don’t be swept up with the crowd, don’t lose your head and don’t push him – you’re not even a third of the way through at that point so conserve his energy.’
They were nearing the entrance.
‘Watch out for that Kyrindian jockey, sneaky bugger,’ Sprague continued. ‘Tam always tells his jockeys to do whatever it takes. Remember the real race starts when you leave the stands behind.’
Caliber snorted as they looked out into the arena, still hidden from the crowd. Jaron felt the kelpra’s body tremble beneath him. He tried to calm his own hammering heart and failed: he was too keyed up. Sprague held on while Liam checked the girth yet again. Jaron stared at the wall of faces opposite them on the other side of the track. From where they stood he could see two of the kelpra already in the arena. One bolted out of view and another was bucking in a frenzied fashion. Jaron’s palms started to sweat and he wiped one then the other on his breeches; it wouldn’t do to let the reins slip. He wondered from where his mother would be watching. ‘Be safe,’ was all she had been able to manage earlier on before nearly squeezing the life out of him and ma
king a quick exit, wiping at her eyes.
‘I want all the details when you get back,’ Liam winked. Jaron couldn’t reply; his throat felt suddenly dry and his tongue like a wad of cotton.
‘Alright?’ Sprague asked Liam, who nodded. ‘Now.’ They both let go at the same time and just managed to get clear as Caliber leapt forward. When he hit the ground, he was straight into a dead run.
They careered out onto the track. The crowd greeted their home favourite with a burgeoning roar. The biggest welcome of the day had been reserved for them and Caliber’s ears flattened. For a moment Jaron lost all control of his kelpra as they galloped wildly across the arena. Fighting Caliber, he caught sight of a wall of faces looking down at them. The colours, the noise, it was incredible – and nothing like the other races they had taken part in. For a moment, Jaron clean forgot everything Sprague had taught him. He saw other kelpra leaping and rearing, shaking their heads and resisting their riders trying to hold them back. One bolted clean across their path and Jaron had to quickly jerk Caliber’s head away before he went after it. But Sprague proved to be right: the wall of sound that continued to roar from the crowd at last caused Caliber to slow and Jaron took the opportunity to regain control; he nudged him up to the resistance of the bridle then kept him between hand and leg. At last, the kelpra eased back into canter – Jaron could breathe again.
Concentrating on Caliber had helped his own stage fright a little and Jaron cast about for the first time as he took proper stock of where the other kelpra were. The bolter was now being trotted in small circles by the rider in the Lugasian colours but the Camorian kelpra was cantering towards Caliber, its rider still fighting for control. Caliber’s ribcage vibrated as he snarled at this stranger. Jaron turned his head away and quickly sent him forward at a short gallop to get him out of its path. Looking over his shoulder he was relieved to see the other kelpra carry straight on.
Shouts of ‘good luck’ came from the crowd but Jaron didn’t dare take a hand from the reins to acknowledge the support. Caliber snorted at all these other kelpra on his home turf and let out a huge roar that caused Jaron’s body to shudder in the saddle. The audience laughed and clapped. There came an answering roar and Caliber stopped dead – causing Jaron to nearly go over his head – before he whipped around to look for the challenger. From the grassy area in the middle of the track Jaron saw the black and tan striped Teller with ears pricked and nostrils flared while he danced on the spot. Even from this distance Jaron could see Pache’s sneering grin.