Fire Rider

by T M Miller

  He put on his helmet and the firedrake moved her foreleg up for him to mount without Jaron having to ask. Again, the intelligence of these big beasts surprised him. Parl offered his hand and pulled him up to settle in front. Jaron looked across the valley and was surprised to see it so busy with firedrake flying; they seemed to be moving in a clockwise circle and as he watched some dipped off into their caves whilst others jumped off to join the throng. He was going out in that? Within his riding gloves his palms started to sweat.

  Parl must have sensed his apprehension for his calm voice came over his shoulder. ‘All the pupils have to get used to flying when the air is busy. We are going to do a circuit of the valley. Now, turn her and line her up. You need to look to your right to see if it’s clear before you ask her to fly. Oh, and strap this on please.’ His hand came over his shoulder holding a belt with hooks on, much the same as he had worn on his first flight on Tarp. Jaron put it on and reached for the strips of leather attached to the saddle with rings on their end. Once he was clipped in Parl’s voice sounded again in his ear. ‘Right, get her facing out.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Jaron nudged her into position and jumped in alarm when a red firedrake boosted off from a ledge above, tail end dipping down right in front of Channon’s nose before it swept off towards the left. At first, he thought it was Madrag then realised it was smaller.

  ‘It’s always busy first thing – the first flights haven’t quite finished leaving yet and the night shift is returning. When the air space is busy, use the left side of the valley to leave.’ Another two greens flapped away from their ledges below him. Their riders, a man and a woman, waved to each other before separating. More firedrake flew past and he tried to get his eye in and judge the speed. A gap came up but he hesitated and missed it. Channon’s sides rose and fell in a big sigh. Parl put his hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll tell you when to go. Ready… wait… now!’

  Jaron leant forward, remembering to keep his weight off his knees as he nudged with his heels. Channon immediately stepped off the ledge into the air. She had only flapped her wings twice when a stream of firedrake came swinging down over the mountain to their right. Jaron gasped, seeing the collision that must surely happen. He leant to the left to direct Channon away but she ignored him and kept to her flight path. Most flashed by overhead but two greens were bearing down on them and Jaron could see the riders’ faces, they were getting so close. One raised his arm, fist clenched. A squeak of fear came out of Jaron’s throat but at the last minute the firedrake parted, one flying underneath and the other green going right over the top of them. Jaron ducked despite himself and Channon raised her head and let out a rumbling call. Relieved, Jaron blew out his cheeks.

  Parl’s calm voice came over his shoulder. ‘You must trust your firedrake in these situations, Jaron, collisions are very rare. The beasts have a sense of their own air space that we can never hope to match. Think of a flock of birds, and how they can fly without getting in each other’s way. The rider lifted his fist, did you see that? He was telling you he would go over the top.’ Jaron nodded, trying to concentrate. He asked Channon to move left and again she didn’t obey. Just then another firedrake passed by on the inside. ‘Tsk, look over your shoulder to check it’s clear first, young man. You do have some responsibility, you know.’

  So many firedrake in the air and Jaron could feel his heart beginning its crawl into his throat. He risked a glance over his shoulder and, seeing it clear, asked her to move over. This time, Channon rolled her body to the left and levelled out when they were next to the mountains. They flew past the caves, some with firedrake still crouched on ledges, others taking off. It was Rakenar at its busiest. He looked across and saw more firedrake coming in over the range and the whole valley air stirred in the whirlpool of the beasts as they followed the aerial highway. The sight was impressive yet did nothing to calm his nerves. Parl made him fly two circuits of the mountain valley and had him directing Channon up high and down low, all the time having to find his way within the mass of beating wings. The school firedrake sometimes ignored his signals and each time she proved to be keeping them safe. Gradually Jaron found he got better at judging the timing and by the time Parl asked him to land by the lake Channon had had no cause to overrule him for the last half circuit.

  ‘Very good, Jaron. Shaky start but you got into the swing of it.’ Relieved, Jaron reached down to undo the clips. ‘No, stay on, I think you’re ready to go it alone.’

  Jaron quailed. ‘But… now? When there’s so many?’

  Parl patted his shoulder and the saddle creaked as he dismounted. On the ground, the teacher pointed up to the sky. ‘Look up, Jaron.’ Jaron did so and, to his amazement, in the time that they had landed the sky above the valley had emptied. ‘Day shift is out on patrol and night flyers are inside eating their breakfast. The perfect time for you to have your first solo.’ He moved back a few paces to give him room and stood waiting. Jaron sat frozen. The teacher frowned. ‘Or we could wait for the other students to get here if you’d like an audience.’

  That did it. Jaron took a deep breath. He stroked the base of the long neck and wished it had the comforting velvet warmth of Caliber’s coat instead of hard scales. ‘Okay, girl,’ he murmured and Channon’s ear cocked back at him. He nudged with his heels and felt the haunches lower in response. As her neck came up Jaron remembered just in time to lean forward to meet it before she boosted straight up. Even so, the pressure flattened him and the drag pulled his body back until the straps keeping him to the saddle were straining. Gasping, he kept low and pulled himself forward then wrapped both his arms around her neck as far as they could reach and clung on. He opened his eyes over her shoulder to see she was virtually angled upright as the ground fell rapidly away. He squeezed them shut but the disorientation was worse; his brain couldn’t keep up and his head spun. Next moment the pressure eased as Channon stopped her upward thrust and now she seemed to hang in the air. Still clutching her neck, Jaron turned his head to peer out. Channon was hovering, and he dared to sit upright. Parl was a tiny figure watching on the ground, arms folded. Jaron was very definitely on his own and a well of panic filled up in his chest until he found it difficult to breathe. ‘You can do this,’ Jaron muttered to himself, but right now it didn’t feel like it. Channon was flying in small circles now while she waited for his direction. An eye was rolled back at him and when he still didn’t do anything she bent her neck to look at him fully. What are you waiting for? the look said and, despite himself, Jaron laughed. He brought his legs up into his customary jockey position for a moment and immediately felt better, then dropped his legs again into the weight of the stirrups, sat up straighter and took a breath. The sky was clear of any other firedrake, the sun was peeking over the mountains and there was a slight mist rising from the valley floor as the ground warmed up. He was on his own, but he trusted Channon; if anything, the flight earlier had shown him the old firedrake was not going to let him do anything stupid. She was his Chase back in Tiara, the old kelpra they put the new riders on. He ran his hand over the neck ridge as she completed another circle and a little rumble came out of her chest. He felt some comfort in that now-familiar sound. He breathed the clear mountain air in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth, then did it again until he felt steadier. It was now or never.

  ‘Let’s fly, Channon,’ he said, and moved her forward.

  It took the length of the valley before Jaron had the confidence to fiddle with the stirrup leathers to make them shorter. He found that by sitting upright and using his seat much like he had riding the kelpra he could get Channon to idle in the air. As he slipped his feet into the shortened stirrups he gave a sigh. This was the position he felt most at home with: the racing seat. Even so, he felt the pull of his skin on the hip; the time he had spent laid up and not riding had definitely stiffened it up more. He bent forward slightly and Channon moved off. He realised they were flying close to the side of Mount Scarf and, without thinking, leant over
as Carna had taught him. Channon angled sideways and winged it round the end of the valley to begin the flight path back again. The morning sun picked out the harsh crags of the mountains while the fine mist rising from the damp ground softened the valley floor. It was beautiful, and Jaron found he was quite enjoying himself. He had the belt clipped in after all so he wasn’t going to fall, he reasoned. Carefully, he raised his seat, lifting it from the saddle. Channon cocked an ear back at him, lowered her head, and flew faster. He bent his knees a little more to shift his weight back and she slowed. Jaron grinned. All about weight and balance – they were familiar riding rules but magnified tenfold on the back of a flying beast. He experimented some more, unbending his knees a little bit and putting his weight more in one stirrup, then the other. Channon responded immediately, almost waggling her wings to catch his slight weight. His left thigh wasn’t too bad now he had healed but he still felt the pull of the muscle. Slowly, he began to feel more confident and so they flew faster. In no time at all the far mountains were looming but this time Jaron didn’t hesitate and, putting his weight into one foot, he got Channon into a steep turn. The firedrake’s body angled more steeply than he anticipated and Jaron’s grin was wiped off his face as he felt his weight being dragged over her side. He tried to sit back down but his backside missed the saddle and one foot left the stirrup. Terrified, he grabbed hold of a neck plate. Channon helped him by levelling out by herself. She shook her ears, not best pleased with her pupil.

  ‘I know, sorry, girl.’

  They started another circuit of the valley. Carefully, Jaron stood up in his stirrups and practiced with his weight again, learning how to lower and raise the level of flight, how to distribute it in the turns. He kept an eye out for other flyers but the air above the valley was theirs alone. Emboldened, he flew a shaky figure of eight, and as they skimmed the rock of Mount Scarf this time he managed to control her tilt. Their shadow swooped over Lord Carna where he stood watching from his cave ledge, one arm draped over Madrag’s neck as the big red lay with his head on his paws.

  Seeing him there and feeling suddenly self-conscious, Jaron flew back towards the lake.

  A faint whistle caused Channon to look down. Parl was waving him in. The other students stood behind him in a half-circle looking up at them. Mindful of Parl’s instructions to keep his eye on the patch of level ground at the lakeside, Jaron directed Channon to land; sitting back down in the saddle he tried to forget about all the students watching and concentrated hard on landing safely.

  Channon touched down on all fours smoothly. He blew out and sat there, letting it all sink in; his first solo flight. Unclipping the belt, he threw his leg over the back of the saddle, sliding down her side onto Channon’s already raised leg. Jaron was careful in his dismount but his legs nearly buckled as his boots touched grass. Despite the others watching, he was forced to lean on the firedrake for support until they stopped quaking.

  ‘Everyone feels like that after the first solo flight,’ Marla came up. ‘It’s the adrenaline.’ Not trusting himself to speak, Jaron nodded. The red-haired girl folded her arms and looked at him with her head cocked to one side.

  ‘Where did you learn to fly like that?’

  Jaron frowned. ‘I didn’t, I mean I haven’t,’ he hesitated, the others had come up with Parl. ‘I expect it’s the rides on Tarp and Madrag, taught me more than I realised.’

  She didn’t seem convinced and raised the other eyebrow.

  Parl pushed through the other students. ‘Well done, Lord Jaron, a bit overconfident for your first ride, but very good.’

  Overconfident? ‘Just Jaron, please,’ he reminded, flushing.

  ‘I think we need to work on your technique, however,’ Parl shook his head. ‘Never seen anyone ride quite like that before.’

  Tench sniggered and Marla was quick to round on him. ‘It was better than your first ride, Tench. You were shouting, a lot if I recall,’ she put a finger to her chin. ‘What was it? Help?’

  ‘I was not!’ A flush crept up Tench’s neck. Behind him, Wolf grinned.

  Jaron turned away; he didn’t feel strong enough for any bickering. Channon raised her neck and tilted her head to look down at him. Lowering it slowly, one green eye blinked at him. Jaron stared up at her. ‘Good girl,’ he whispered, and reached out, but then stopped, uncertain, his hand hanging in mid-air. Channon moved her head towards him and before he knew it his hand was on her eye ridge. He stroked it, his fingers feeling the ridges of the scales.

  ‘Now, follow me, all of you.’

  The students moved after Parl. Jaron stepped back from Channon and followed slowly, still feeling a little shaky after his flight. Channon lumbered behind him as they all headed towards the valley where the mountainside rose up in a sheer face. The rock was coal black here and as Jaron got closer he realised it was burnt. There came a puffing sound from behind him and looking over his shoulder he was in time to see white smoke coiling from Channon’s nostrils. Alarmed, Jaron whipped round to face her and felt his chest constrict as he backed away. The firedrake raised her head and three perfectly round rings floated up into the air.

  ‘Ohhh, look, Channon’s blowing smoke rings!’ Racker clapped his hands like a delighted child. The other students murmured in excitement.

  ‘Quiet now, come and stand by me, all of you. Racker, stop jumping about and pay attention.’ Parl moved them away from Channon as she waddled towards the rock. ‘I know some of you wouldn’t have seen a firedrake fire; no firedrake apart from old Channon here is allowed to fire within the valley without permission and any rider who gives such an order to his beast will be severely reprimanded.’ His pale eyes were hard as they looked at each of them in turn, coming to rest last of all on Jaron where they softened a little. ‘Fire can be a devastating weapon and only in the most extreme of circumstances will a rider call for his beast to use it. Now, all of you keep back.’

  He stepped forward and raised his arm towards Channon. Smoke was rising from her nostrils in curling tendrils and the green eyes were bright as she watched the teacher. Parl brought his arm down and her sides inflated as she took a deep breath and swung her head to the rock face. She coiled her neck back and made a strange little click in her throat. As her head shot forward, a thick beam of bright orange fire erupted from her roaring mouth, slamming into the mountainside and broiling against the rock in a burning mass of flames. The students threw their arms up to cover their faces. Only Hodge stood watching with Parl, strong arms folded but with wide eyes. The roar of the fire deafened Jaron and it seemed to go on and on until Channon at last ran out of breath. She closed her mouth, coughed and shook herself before turning to amble back to the lake. The students were left staring at a large circle of glowing orange rock, its heat smarting their faces.

  ‘Wow.’ Tench’s grin was huge. ‘That was great!’

  ‘Can she come back and do it again, sir?’ Racker asked. Beside him, Haley stood with her hands to her face.

  ‘That was horrible, horrible,’ she murmured.

  ‘Lighten up, Haley.’ Wolf came and put an arm around her thin shoulders. He looked across and frowned. ‘Err, Jaron? You alright?’

  Jaron didn’t answer right away. Panting, he stood rigid with fists clenched tight. Marla pushed the others out of the way. ‘Jaron?’

  ‘I’m fine, fine,’ he muttered through stiff lips.

  ‘You look white as ash.’

  ‘I said I’m fine,’ he snapped before he could stop himself. Marla hesitated and turned back to the others with a shrug.

  Wolf was sniffing the air. ‘Whew! That stink…’

  ‘It is a bit strong,’ Parl agreed. ‘We call the liquid Flagra. We know of no other beast in the lands that produces this fluid. It comes out of the fire sacs at the top of the firedrake’s neck and into the throat; extremely dangerous to harvest when a firedrake dies, but worth the effort as it can be very useful.’

  ‘When can we fire our firedrake, sir?’ Tench asked eagerly.
/>   ‘In battle, or if orders are given for clearing scrub or woodland for expansion.’

  Tench looked disappointed. ‘But there are no battles, no wars, and there’s no expansion planned that my father’s spoken of. What’s the point in flying a fire-breathing beast if it doesn’t get to fire at all?’

  Haley shook her head at the blond boy’s words. ‘There are the games, I suppose. Though why you should be so keen to inflict such hurt is beyond me.’

  Parl nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, just be grateful, young man, that we live in peaceful times.’

  That evening, after he had washed himself at his little basin, Jaron sat down on his bed and ran his fingers over the withered flesh on the left side of his chest, feeling the ridges of thickened skin. Somehow, in all the getting to know the beasts and the excitement of flying lessons, he had – despite his personal experience – conveniently pushed to the back of his mind the devastation these beasts could wreak. It had been shocking enough to see the Ernots being fired upon, even when he had been dazed and so relieved to be rescued. Parl had said the beasts were to fire in battle. Could he really do that? Burn someone like he himself had been burnt? Like Teel had died?

  The boy lay back on the bed and stared up at the rough-hewn cave ceiling. No, he could never do that. A warning perhaps, but never a direct shot.

  20

  The days fell into a pattern for Jaron. Parl would come and pick him up in the morning for flying school. After lunch in his room, he exercised along the walkway and in the evenings Rella and Carna picked him up for dinner in the Great Hall. Life simply went on, carrying him along with it. He found he didn’t want to ask about Torrit’s banishment and where he might be now, preferring instead to treat him as dead and bury the hateful, evil man’s existence.