by T M Miller
They soared across the valley, Tarp’s wings now fully outstretched and only occasionally giving a half-flap. The predominant sound was the breeze and after a moment Jaron sat up a little and peered over Flick’s shoulder. He could see a wagon far below trundling down the valley road that rimmed the base of the mountains. It reminded him of the toy carriage he had played with as a young child, it seemed so tiny. They passed firedrake nesting on ledges in front of their rider’s caves. Some curled up asleep, others stretched out; some with riders sitting out next to their firedrake as they watched them fly by. Apart from the breeze, Jaron felt an underlying quiet. It was quite peaceful even, he realised in surprise. They flew over the lake in the centre of the valley and the sun flashing off its surface momentarily blinded him. He twisted a little in the saddle, making sure he had a good hold of Flick’s jacket as he risked a look behind him. Tarp’s long tail snaked away into the air. Now and then it moved from side to side, making tiny adjustments. Beyond it Jaron could see his cave entrance a level down from the top of the huge mountain where the tiny figure of Carna stood watching them. The scale of it was an awesome sight.
‘Still with me?’ Flick said over his shoulder. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Alright,’ Jaron said, and the surprise in his voice made Flick chuckle.
‘We’re going to rise up and fly over the mountains, it will be a bit windier but I’ll dip down as soon as I can.’
Jaron shifted forward and tucked his arms around Flick’s waist again, apprehension rising anew. Tarp’s long neck rose up in front of them, ears rippling in the breeze. His wings beat more strongly now and beneath the saddle Jaron could feel the muscles working harder. As the firedrake’s body angled upwards Jaron felt the pull of gravity on his thighs and it seemed as though his stomach was travelling towards his backbone. Fear rose in his throat and he tightened his arms even further around Flick’s waist, knotting his gloved fingers together whilst bringing his knees up into his customary race position out of habit. He peered over Flick’s shoulder at the mountain top getting closer and closer, the harsh noon sun etching the ridges and crags. A flock of crows flew up in alarm at the firedrake’s coming and their caws filled the air as they scattered. The mountainside fell away as they rose with dizzying speed. At last they were over its lip and a strong wind hit Jaron’s face. The firedrake’s body dropped a wing suddenly and Jaron gasped as he was thrown first to one side, then the other, thankful his arms were still knotted around Flick’s waist.
‘Sorry about that,’ Flick’s voice rushed past his ears. ‘Always get a buffeting here.’
Tarp’s front dipped sharply and now Jaron slipped forward until he was being pushed into Flick’s back. At last, the wind eased and it was with some relief Jaron felt Tarp levelling out.
‘This is the Arkenara,’ Flick called back.
He risked a look over Flick’s shoulder. A mountain range was laid out before them. Snow capped the higher peaks, jutting out of a blanket of downy cloud as far as the eye could see. It was so beautiful it took Jaron’s breath away. They flew on and where the cloud thinned it rolled across the mountains like a silk sheet, the crags and canyons jagged dark tears. Jaron took a deep breath and dragged the sharp clear air into his lungs. As he let it out his tension eased a little.
As Tarp passed over the range the land opened out more into a different wilderness, full of rock and scrub with deep valleys. Jaron marvelled how quickly the land swept past below them. A canopy of forest came into view up ahead and Tarp flew lower over the trees. A flock of bright blue and pink birds cried out in alarm and tumbled into the air. The cries they made were unlike any bird he had heard, almost like a human’s whistle.
‘What are they?’ he asked in Flick’s ear.
‘Myrads. Devilishly noisy birds, a real bane if you’re trying to hunt – their calls travel far and alert everything. By the way, this forest we call Kenara.’
It was much steadier flying now and Jaron felt safe enough to look around and wonder at how quiet it was up here, the only sound the pushing of the wind. Flick didn’t talk for a long while, letting him settle and get used to the flight. After roughly an hour had passed, the firedrake angled his right wing and Jaron felt them change direction slightly. He tightened his hold as Tarp’s body slanted.
Flick pointed up ahead. ‘There’s the Notresia Mountains.’
Jaron stared at them. Far away in the distance they rose in a grey ridge of rotten teeth. He remembered when he had last seen them. He had only had the race on his mind back then, completely unaware of how his life was about to change.
The mountains drew ever closer and larger until they filled Jaron’s sight. He shifted uneasily in the saddle, wondering when Tarp was going to rise to fly over them. Instead, the firedrake’s body went into a roll.
‘Flick!’ Jaron shouted in alarm, his gloved fingers digging in as his whole world tilted.
‘It’s alright, Tarp’s angling himself for the pass.’
Jaron peered over his shoulder. A dark slit between the mountains was fast approaching and Jaron eyed it warily. Surely it was too narrow for such a big beast. He gripped even tighter as they flew sideways into the darkened pass. A sudden shocking wave of cold air made him gasp and he risked a look up to see sheer rock flashing by in a blur. There was a roaring sound in his ears and turning his head Jaron saw a river broiling far below, churning along the narrow crag floor. Feeling sick and uncomfortably hemmed in Jaron hunkered down, glad of the straps, yet he instinctively felt it was the pressure in the air that kept him miraculously in place.
Flick must have realised his discomfort. ‘We’ll be out in the open soon,’ he called back to him.
At last, Tarp came out of the pass and the sun hit them again as they levelled out over thick green forest. Swallowing the acrid taste in his mouth, Jaron looked down over the Rotarn Forest. He stared at the green canopy as images of the attack and his own pain and near-death resurfaced in his mind. Tarp was following the path of the River Not as it widened and calmed its pace, partly obscured by trees. Jaron made himself look away.
In a short space of time, the borders of the Plains of Wake came into view, the vast plains spreading out to cover the land. Jaron gasped at how beautiful it was from the air. As Tarp moved into a silent glide, he could see brown blobs dotted over the landscape: the Tiarian cattle grazing, who did not even look up as they flew over. The golden grass turned into the bare stubble of the harvested fields and slowly the white-stone walls of Tiara rose out of the distant haze like a ghost city.
It surprised Jaron how much his heart leapt on seeing it. He thought of Liam and Sanra and realised how much he wanted to see them.
‘Can we drop in on Tiara?’ he asked Flick. When there was no response he tried again, shouting into the rider’s ear with cupped hand. ‘I said–’
‘That wasn’t in Lord Carna’s instructions, and I thought you wanted to look for your kelpra?’
From the flat tone of Flick’s voice there was no way he was going to be allowed to go to Tiara. Pushing down his irritation, as it wasn’t Flick’s fault, Jaron contented himself with enjoying the space of the plains after his cave and the dark tunnels of Mount Scarf.
Not long after, Tarp’s wings back-flapped. Next moment, the firedrake’s neck rose and he seemed to rear up in the air. Jaron, finally relaxed while he took in the view, would have tumbled backward if it hadn’t been for the straps holding him to the saddle.
‘Sorry,’ Flick said, as Tarp hovered in the air and Jaron clutched at his jacket in alarm. ‘Should have warned you.’ Jaron could see his sheepish grin as he half-turned back to him.
It was uncomfortable hovering. Tarp’s wings were held high and Jaron didn’t like the flapping membrane hemming him in on both sides.
‘This is where I dropped your yowling beast off,’ Flick said, and right away Jaron forgot his discomfort.
‘Which way did he go?’
‘East,’ Flick pointed and turned Tarp. With one powe
rful beat the firedrake increased his speed. Jaron looked back at the distant towers of Tiara fast disappearing behind him.
It took a while before the rippling dried grass turned into rough scrubland. Jaron had never realised how far the Wake extended beyond the city in this direction. Flick pointed down and Jaron leaned over to look, making sure his gloved fingers had a good hold of Flick’s jacket.
A herd of deer were running and leaping below them. Tarp twisted his neck to look down and Jaron felt the saddle vibrate as he rumbled. Flick laughed. ‘I know, boy, maybe later.’
‘Is he hungry?’
‘Not really, but that doesn’t mean to say he wouldn’t like a go.’
‘Oh. Do you stay on his back when…?’
‘He hunts? Some riders don’t, but I like to be on Tarp’s back so I’m right there with him.’ He grinned over his shoulder, showing his teeth. ‘It feels like I’m the one doing the hunting – it’s quite a rush actually.’
Jaron tried to imagine how he would feel if Tarp was sweeping down on those deer, grabbing one up in his jaws. He shivered, and noticed the bushy scrubland below now had a few trees. They went by in a blur and soon there was nothing but trees below them. Tarp raised his level to fly over the top of the dense forest and the force of the wind picked up.
‘The Camorian Forest,’ Flick shouted back to him.
Jaron nodded and looked down but his eyes couldn’t penetrate the canopy at all. It looked to be much thicker than even the Rotarn Forest and his hopes dropped to another level even as Tarp flapped his wings to fly higher still over a huge cedar. It’s impossible, I’ll never find Caliber if he’s down there.
Flick must have sensed his disappointment. ‘Don’t worry, I know a gorge where it’s more open.’ He banked Tarp to the left.
As they flew on, still not wanting to give up, Jaron leant over Tarp’s side as far as he dared and searched below for any breaks in the canopy. When he raised his head again he was surprised to see white stone walls rising out of the forest. Tarp headed straight for them. As they rose up to fly over the cliffs, Jaron gasped. A river broiled down one side into a cascading waterfall, water mist rising up from its depths. Below, there was a large flat valley with huge herds of grazing deer and antelope. He had never seen so many grazing animals in one place before. Tarp cocked his head and another low rumble shook the saddle.
‘Shhh, Tarp, stay quiet.’ Flick turned his head to speak to Jaron. ‘A good place for a predator to hunt, we’ll need to stay high enough so as not to spook them.’
They soared high above the herds, who were oblivious to the firedrake up above as they grazed undisturbed. Reaching the other side, Flick directed Tarp to land on one of the cliff tops. The green firedrake angled himself and Jaron clutched onto Flick’s jacket again as he felt himself tipping back. He eyed the bare rock plateau getting closer. The firedrake did one backward flap as his head rose higher. Jaron felt a slight jolt as the firedrake’s back legs came down before Tarp fell forward onto all fours, causing Jaron to nearly bump his nose on Flick’s back.
‘This is as good a vantage place as any,’ Flick said as Tarp furled his wings. ‘If you see anything start to run, look for what’s frightened it. Perhaps it’ll be kelpra.’
Jaron nodded and eagerly scanned the valley below. Tarp’s ears were pricked in interest as he watched the herds. From the other side of the valley, the river rumbled in the background as it swept over the cliffs. The white of the plateau stone where they had landed seemed to radiate heat and the warmth was quite pleasant.
After a long while Tarp sighed and lowered his body as he settled into a more comfortable crouch. He turned his long neck and sniffed at the ground to one side. Whatever it was seemed to consume his attention and he rubbed his chin in it with relish.
‘Hey, Tarp, stop that!’ Flick slapped his neck. ‘He’ll stink now,’ he said, sighing.
‘I can’t smell anything,’ Jaron began, then gasped and put his hand over his nose as the pungent aroma reached his nostrils and hit the back of his throat.
The afternoon wore on and still nothing disturbed the grazing herds. The flies droned faintly around Tarp’s head and Jaron opened his jacket. His head was hot under the helmet and he tried not to let the warmth and peace affect his attention, but gradually the tiredness of his first flight caught up with him and his eyelids began to droop.
‘Jaron?’ He started. Flick was looking at him, half turned in the saddle. He must have nodded off. Mortified, the boy sat up to pay attention. ‘Nice to see you’re relaxed, not too bad so far, eh?’ Flick’s smooth tanned face was smiling.
Jaron thought about it. ‘No, not too bad,’ he said in surprise.
Flick laughed, showing even white teeth. Jaron felt a prickle of annoyance and it must have shown on his face for the young Raken’s eyes were suddenly serious. ‘I know how difficult it was for you to get on Tarp, Jaron.’
‘Sometimes I don’t think I’m going to ever feel as comfortable as the Raken riders do.’
Flick hitched a leg over Tarp’s wither so he was sitting sideways. ‘You will, I promise you; after all, each firedrake you’ve come into contact with seems to like you and that’s very unusual.’
‘Is it?’
‘Oh yes, they’re one-man beasts normally.’
Tarp let out another large sigh, his sides lifting their legs. Flick laughed. ‘We’d better head back, it’s getting too hot for anything to hunt this afternoon. Don’t want you out too long for your first flight.’
‘I’m fine,’ Jaron mumbled.
‘Well, let’s not overcook it.’ Flick turned and swung his leg back over Tarp’s wither. ‘Anyway, there are wild firedrake here and its best we don’t run into them.’
Jaron was instantly fully alert. ‘What? Where?’
Flick pointed to a now squashed brown mess forward of the firedrake’s head. ‘I’m afraid that’s what we can smell.’
‘Would they attack us?’ Jaron cast fearful looks all about.
‘It’s unusual.’
‘Unusual? You mean it has happened?’
‘The wild blues are rare now, and those left would rather avoid their tame brethren.’ Flick clicked at Tarp and Jaron hunkered forward to hang on tight as the firedrake opened his wings. ‘Ready?’
Jaron barely had time to answer before Tarp dropped off the ledge and Jaron’s stomach lurched up into his ribcage as the green swept down at dizzying speed. He levelled out low across the valley, causing the grazing beasts to look up with a start. A stag hollered a warning and the herds began to run. Flick whooped in delight and Jaron closed his eyes as the firedrake flew over the pounding haunches and brown backs of the galloping, leaping herds before arcing steeply up and over the valley rim. Tarp settled into a glide with outstretched wings over the forest, Flick complaining loudly at the whiff that radiated back towards them from Tarp’s head.
Behind them, unseen and directly below their former landing place, two purple eyes emerged from the darkness of a large crag in the cliff wall and looked out. Silver claws scraped on stone as the blue firedrake emerged from hiding. For a moment, it hung on the cliff side, craning its neck to stare after the departing green until the stranger was lost from sight. It sniffed the air and a low whine came from its throat. With a sudden lash of its tail it pushed itself off the stone and twisted mid-air, opening its wings. The firedrake darted across the valley, an iridescent blue streak against the verdant green of the valley floor. It alighted on the far side and raised its neck to sniff the air. Again, it whined, a high-pitched sound from deep in its throat. Suddenly it boosted straight up, wings folded tight against its body as it spun. High up in the air, it snapped them out to stop. Hovering, it looked behind it at the valley then in the direction the stranger had taken. It did this a couple of times until, with a squawk, it darted lower, hovered again while it sniffed the air once more, then moved forward over the trees, flying slower this time as it followed the flight path the green firedrake had taken.
17
Jaron’s relief at getting his first flight over with was short-lived – for that evening Carna paid him an unexpected visit.
‘Flying school,’ the lord announced, ignoring Jaron’s open-mouthed stare. ‘Don’t be late, I’ll be here when the sun reaches into the valley tomorrow morning.’
‘But…’ Jaron spluttered, ‘so soon? Can’t I–’
‘You’ll need a lift down to the lake,’ Carna cut smoothly across his protest in a voice that brooked no argument, then ducked into the tunnel and was gone. Jaron had wondered if he should go and plead his case to his mother, but soon dismissed that thought. Earlier, she had been waiting out on his ledge when he had returned on Tarp, fussing over him so much he had felt embarrassed in front of the men, but she hadn’t come to his cave with the lord which suggested she was siding with Carna over this. And he had agreed.
And so, the next morning, before the rising sun had lifted free of the mountains, he waited nervously on his ledge. On the one hand, he was glad to meet youngsters his own age, yet on the other the prospect made him feel sick. Jaron rubbed at the healed thigh wound, free at last of its bandage, then fingered the scarf at his neck to reassure himself it was still there. However, he couldn’t cover his facial scar and dreaded the stares he would get. He breathed in the sharp mountain air and it occurred to him he was worried more about the class than he was the flight down.
Madrag appeared round the side of the mountain, silently gliding in on massive wings. His scales were a rich wine red in the flat early morning light. Jaron picked up his helmet and took a deep breath to steady himself. The firedrake dipped a wing and wheeled round to face the cave, rearing up and showing his brilliant blue chest as he hovered. Lord Carna’s face peered around the long neck at Jaron who backed away from the beating air as Madrag dipped down, hooking onto the ledge with his sharp claws and angling himself to lumber sideways onto what was, for him, the cramped space on the ledge.