by T M Miller
Skite back-winged for the ledge and Jaron skittered away on his behind to give him room. The firedrake landed and dropped the inert body with a thump in front of him. Skite grumbled happily and eyed the boy.
‘Uh, well done,’ Jaron muttered, since Skite seemed to be expecting praise. The firedrake rumbled and bent his head, caught up the body and tossed the animal into the air. As it fell back strong jaws crunched down on the body, cutting it clean in two. Blood spurted over the ledge and dribbled down the firedrake’s chest as it munched. The back half of the calf fell to the stone with a whumping squelch.
Jaron stared at the bloody mess then turned away and crawled over to sit on the furthest point of the ledge. He gazed out over the valley and tried to ignore the slurping and crunching noises going on behind him. Good job he hadn’t seen that when he had first been out on a ledge with the blue. He had never seen a firedrake eat before – he supposed that Carna hadn’t thought him ready. This turned his thoughts to Rakenar and he unsteadily got to his feet and scanned the valley. Remarkably the herds had already returned to their grazing; Jaron supposed now the hunt was over they had nothing to fear. He searched the cliffs and took the waterfall as a marker. He thought he might be able to remember the right direction to fly back from here.
He looked back at Skite. He had a hind leg held between his front paws and was licking at it with blissful, half-closed eyes.
Jaron watched him, thinking how the blue had carried out Torrit’s orders even when separated from Torrit, then turned against his former master. He remembered how, back on the ledge, Skite had dribbled water into his mouth. As a throwback to the wilder firedrake did the blues have more intelligence? Skite had understood him in a way he had never seen the Raken firedrake do with their riders. That set him thinking again of the mountain city. He had to get back, Torrit might be coming for him even now. And his mother would be frantic with worry.
Mind made up, he started to turn towards the blue when something down below caught his eye. Jaron stared for a moment and lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the morning sun. No, he hadn’t been mistaken. Five horses were entering the valley from the river. The herds, who had been peacefully grazing, now had their heads raised. Some began to trot away from the group and a herd of small antelope leapt away into the scrub. They wouldn’t do that with horses, it could only be – kelpra! Jaron limped stiffly along the lip of the edge, he could see they had tufted tails, definitely kelpra, but still couldn’t see if one of them was Caliber. It was just too far.
He whirled and saw Skite was now laying with his head in his paws, licking his bloody chops. All that remained of the calf was its discarded tail. Jaron hesitated. He wouldn’t think of approaching while the firedrake had been eating but he seemed content now and desperation overcame apprehension. Jaron walked over to him carefully; the blue had his eyes closed and was licking his lips in contentment.
‘Skite?’ he called. One purple eye opened and looked at him. ‘Time to fly.’ When the blue didn’t move, he waved his arms about. ‘Fly?’
The blue sighed and rolled his head to one side, closing his eye again. Daringly, Jaron took hold of an ear and tugged at it. The blue raised his head and the boy quickly stepped back.
‘Time to fly, boy,’ Jaron repeated, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. The blue yawned, ignoring him. ‘Skite, please,’ Jaron begged and, gathering his courage, reached the blue’s shoulder and tried to pull himself up, failed, then managed to jump up enough to get some leverage with his arms, a groan escaping his lips as his ribs complained. He hung there, legs kicking, not going anywhere.
‘You could at least help me,’ he grumbled between gasps at the blue. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a wing moved forward and down. Jaron managed to hook a leg over its front ridge to push himself up. He was on at last. The boy shuffled into normal firedrake saddle position, then thought again and shifted forward, his legs pushing out forwards to dangle down over the shoulders until his feet found the shoulder points to rest on. Skite looked back at him and Jaron gave him a nudge with his heels. With a huge sigh, the firedrake got up and walked to the edge. Tightening his grip on a raised scale plate Jaron swallowed down his nerves.
Opening his wings, the blue stepped off and flew out over the valley. The rushing air pushed against Jaron’s face and chest while his hair, with no helmet, rippled free. Wishing he had the security of a saddle, Jaron first searched the sky and was relieved to see it empty of Torrit’s firedrake. He looked down past Skite’s gliding, outspread wings and quickly spied the kelpra next to the river. They were standing and looking towards the herds; they hadn’t noticed Skite yet.
‘Alright Skite, if we can just circle round behind them.’ He placed his feet on the shoulder points and leant in the direction he wanted the firedrake to go.
Nothing happened. Skite carried on flying straight and now they were losing height. If the blue carried on like this they were going to spook the kelpra before he’d got a close enough look. He asked again, and still Skite ignored him. It occurred to Jaron that it was likely the blue had never actually been ridden; maybe he was the only person that had sat on his back and that was only as a passenger. Jaron didn’t want to think about the implications of that just now.
‘Skite, listen to me,’ this time he reached forward and dared to grab the long ears. He gently tugged on one and Skite’s head turned in the direction he wanted. They soared across the valley and came in behind the kelpra. Jaron was so busy looking down, trying to see if the black there was Caliber, that he forgot to look up to see where they were going. Skite changed direction and Jaron tugged on the other ear to get him back. Skite shook his head, nearly dislodging him. Next moment there was a cliff face right in their path.
‘Arrgh!’ Jaron cried as the blue glanced off it. Rocks showered down to the floor below. Jaron fell forward and threw his arms around Skite’s neck as the blue flapped clumsily off the rock again. He anxiously looked down, just in time to see the last kelpra’s rump disappear into thick bush, tail held high. Skite levelled up and peered back at him with one baleful eye. ‘I’m sorry,’ Jaron apologised, patting scales. The kelpra would have to wait for now.
They were nearing the waterfall and Jaron realised just how thirsty he was. Carefully taking hold of Skite’s ears again he tugged gently on one, leaning with his weight as he did so. This time the blue did as he bid. As they swept back towards the water Jaron managed to angle Skite in to fly close by leaning his weight towards it. When the sheeting water looked to be within reach Jaron sat up and put out his hand. But Skite ignored his upright position and carried on side-winging. ‘Ah!’ Jaron gasped as the cold water drenched him. Skite shook his head as they dived out the other end and droplets showered back onto Jaron.
‘I think we need more practice, Skite,’ Jaron muttered, shivering from the cold dowsing he had received. Daring to let go of the ears, he put his sleeve cuff above his mouth and wrung it out with the other hand. It was a drink, of sorts, and enough to allay his thirst. He wiped his mouth and looked down. Lush forest travelled by below them; the blue was leaving the valley and Jaron, looking around, realised they were heading in the wrong direction. He moved his weight over to turn him. When the firedrake didn’t react again he reached forward, tugging on a long ear to fold the neck in that side.
Skite shook his hand off, grunting. Jaron mustered his courage. The blue had saved him, Jaron reasoned, and he knew with sudden surprising certainty Skite wasn’t going hurt him. Anyway, there was no choice; he had to get back to Rakenar. Stay out here and sooner or later Torrit was going to find him.
This time, Jaron made sure his feet were planted securely on the shoulders and, determined now, took hold of both ears. Again, Skite shook his head, but Jaron grimly held on. Putting all his weight into his feet, he half-raised his seat into his familiar racing position. It was a mistake. Skite lowered his head, jerking Jaron forward. Gasping, the boy fell onto the neck. The forest canopy below tilted alarmingly but he kep
t hold of the ears. ‘Skite, please,’ Jaron begged. He sat up and, putting all his weight back, set himself against the head. In answer, Skite’s body rippled in the air. It was like riding a snake, Jaron thought, as he fought to keep his balance. Skite dived sideways and Jaron cast a panicked look at the forest rising up to meet them. Keeping his head, he put all his body weight into the other foot until he was virtually riding with one knee bent to get Skite to level out. Amazingly, it worked and the blue was forced to right himself.
‘Come on now,’ Jaron gasped. ‘Work with me here.’ He mentally ‘pushed out’, seeking to get Skite to trust him. The blue’s head turned slightly, one purple eye looking back at him. Jaron made sure his feet were placed securely, adjusting his position a little until he felt as ready as he could be. Carefully, he put his weight into a turn, using his hands at the same time to slightly bend the blue’s neck. This time, Skite followed his lead; the level out was shaky with juddered wings but at least they were flying back towards the valley. Jaron steadily grew in confidence as the firedrake seemed to accept his direction more and more. Once they were over the rich grassland again Jaron had Skite fly all around the perimeter while he got his bearings until, at last, the boy pressed down with his seat. When Skite continued flying on Jaron gritted his teeth. Stop, he thought and repeated it over and over in his head. Skite slowed until he almost stopped mid-air and went into a hover.
‘Good boy.’ Jaron stroked the neck. Whatever it was, this strange connection they had, at least the blue was listening to him at last.
He stared across the Camorian forest laid out beyond the white stone cliffs. Tiara lay to the west of here and to the north, Rakenar. Hoping he was right, Jaron leant forward and gave Skite a pat.
‘Time to fly, boy.’ He took hold of the long ears and leant forward, nudging with his heels. Skite flapped his wings and together they flew low over the trees, a blue dart against the green, heading towards Rakenar.
They ended up flying westwards back towards Tiara because Jaron, terrified of getting lost, was forced to take what must be the longer route and thus lose precious time. Skite would have known the way but Jaron didn’t know how to ask and he didn’t trust the blue to guide him back when he had already been attacked by the Raken firedrakes. The boy kept on looking over his shoulder, imagining Torrit on the fearsome Brane appearing on their tail, but the sky remained empty. Jaron could only think Skite’s amazing speed had given them a good start.
As they left the Camorian forest behind and flew over the Plains of Wake Jaron looked down at the rippling rich grass below them and thought how much his life had changed from living with his mother in Tiara. How terrified he had been when the Raken arrived on their beasts back then. Now, here he was flying on his own with a rare blue firedrake that was accepting his control. The irony made him chuckle. Skite rumbled and Jaron patted the blue neck.
‘Just reminiscing, boy.’
The ground rose and the blue flapped higher. As they flew over the hills and scrubland that bordered the Plains of Wake Jaron looked ahead to the dense green of the Rotarn Forest that marked the end of Tiara’s territory. They flew nearer and beyond the forest the Notresia mountain range rose out of the thin blue afternoon haze. Relieved, Jaron nudged Skite faster.
They winged over the forest and Jaron looked down on the River Not as it winked out from underneath the trees.
Further along, the trees opened up into a clearing and Jaron felt his throat tighten, sure this was where so many of the riders had met their deaths. He lifted his gaze and kept his eyes fixed ahead between Skite’s ears, relieved when they rose up over the Notresia mountain range and left the forest behind them.
The morning was giving way to afternoon when they reached the Arkenara Mountains that bordered Rakenar. Their progress had slowed somewhat. Skite had become more and more reluctant to fly forward for him and Jaron had to concentrate on keeping him on course and moving on. Jaron understood; how could he not when Skite had already been attacked, and he had fought Channon, the respectable old school firedrake that many a rider must have a soft spot for in their hearts. Not to mention snatching her rider.
‘I won’t let them harm you, I won’t,’ he promised over and over again to the blue.
His ribs were a dull ache in his chest and his legs were trembling from the flight and pushing the reluctant firedrake on. More and more he had to rest and every time he did so Skite would slow almost to a standstill.
He judged the time as they flew over the mountains from his flight with Flick until he guessed they were nearing the outskirts of Rakenar. The wind buffeted them until Skite lowered height. Jaron sent him lower still. He didn’t want to be seen until the last moment for he was certain the Raken riders would pluck him off and attack the blue. Skite’s speed would be outweighed by sheer numbers as he flew directly into their territory.
The mountains rose higher, forcing them up and a harsh, buffeting wind caused the blue’s wings to judder. Jaron tightened his grip on the ears. ‘Nearly there, boy, you’re going to have to trust me.’ He looked up at a mountain whose tip was obscured by cloud and pushed with his heels; Skite’s head rose and Jaron leaned forward, grateful for the long ears to hold on to. He pushed again.
Skite obeyed him and increased his speed; his wings beat stronger as he rose vertically up the side of the mountain and straight into the thick bank of cloud, hidden from any watchers from Rakenar. Jaron shivered as the damp mist touched him. He looked down over the blue’s shoulder, searching. At first there were only cloud banks scudding along below them, then at last a break in the cloud and there was Rakenar far below. Jaron was surprised at how his heart leapt on seeing the familiar green valley with the ribbon of water meandering through it, the mountains surrounding it all and forming a natural protective barrier. It was strange, but it felt like coming home. He waited for the next cloud break then looked for the largest mountain, Mount Scarf. It sat at the far end of the valley and Jaron could see the huge cave at its base even from way up here before the clouds passed over again. He put the blue into a hover and stroked the scaly neck.
‘I won’t let them hurt you, I won’t,’ he promised one final time, trying to get up his own courage.
Boy and firedrake hovered in the sky as Jaron waited for the next cloud break. When it came, Jaron took a deep breath; it was now or never.
‘Skite – go!’
He crouched forward, determined, praying the firedrake would trust him now. Skite did, he went with his weight and folded his wedge-shaped wings back into a dive. Jaron hoped to buy a little time coming from on high and as they neared he caught sight of a green firedrake on guard, perched on the lip of the valley with its rider. He kept his eyes on it as they scorched through the air, claiming precious seconds. It looked up, crouched in surprise, and let out a trumpeting alarm. The rider looked up and shielded his eyes. He immediately turned his firedrake to fly out over the valley. Another trumpeting call, hollow and fainter, wafted up to Jaron and the boy shifted his weight into his knees. Skite’s wings pulled back and the blue dove faster, straight for the valley floor. A strange whistling reached his ears and he had to squint against the wind. With no helmet, his scalp prickled in the cold. Down below, he saw firedrake wheeling out from their ledges and searching the sky, the heads freezing as they locked onto Skite. Jaron’s eyes were watering now. Fear they would surely crash into the ground caused him to lift his behind back slightly to slow the blue, but still Skite dove.
The whistling grew louder in Jaron’s ears and the pressure threatened to tear him from the blue’s back. Too fast! Through his tears, he saw a dense flock of firedrake fly right into their flight path. Skite saw them too and opened his wings, mercifully forced to slow down at last. He slewed to one side to avoid the flock below and Jaron, seeing a gap, pushed him on down with a shout of command to back up his drumming heels. They dropped past the snapping jaws, Jaron grateful the blue was trusting in his commands. The valley floor was coming up to meet them and Jaro
n desperately pulled harder on the long ears with all his strength to lift the head. Skite just managed to level out in the valley bowl, well below the whirling flocks of alarmed firedrake that now thickened the sky.
The firedrake cries of warning were deafening and Skite seemed to shrink in on himself as he looked up at the snarling beasts bearing down on them. They had shot straight through the ceiling of chasing firedrake and Jaron searched in desperation for Mount Scarf and saw it right at the far end; they had gone off course. Jaron kicked Skite with his heels and sent the blue razing across the valley length, out from underneath the firedrake now massing to attack from above. Leaning low over the neck, Jaron risked a look back to see a dense cloud of firedrake wings and lashing tails turning to give chase. Their reaction had been faster than Jaron had planned for. He felt Skite tremble beneath him as a huge red burst through the beating wings, outstripping the chasing firedrake. It was Madrag, and Jaron saw his lips lift in a snarl. Panicked, he urged Skite even faster as, desperate now, Jaron searched ahead for his cave. Look to see where you are going and your firedrake will follow. He spied it, a level down from the top of Mount Scarf, his chair still out on the ledge. A torch had been lit outside it even in daylight. He swallowed; his mother had put out a guiding light for his return. Jaron lifted Skite higher and levelled him out. He kept his eyes on the torch; it was coming at them with alarming speed but Skite would be torn apart if they had to come around again.
‘Don’t slow yet, don’t slow yet,’ Jaron chanted to himself.
He risked a look behind him. Madrag and a green were closest, ahead of the other chasing firedrake. He looked back and started in alarm; the open doors of the cave entrance were rushing towards them – too close! Jaron threw his weight back and pulled hard on Skite’s ears. The blue shrieked as its front reared up into the air, the blue wings back-flapping to brake, tail thrashing as a rudder. Jaron kept him on course and his eyes on his cave as Parl’s words came into his head: trust your firedrake to sort it out.