by Mark Robson
‘All right, Shadow,’ he said decisively. ‘We’ll give Fang and Kira their chance. Let’s hope they know what they’re doing. Drag out the chase as best you can.’
Shadow responded by entering a shallow dive to convert their height into speed. Aurora and Firestorm stayed alongside in close formation. The night dragons continued to gain, but much more slowly. Pell checked over his shoulder with frequent glances. His heart began to beat faster and faster. Their pursuers noticeably gained on them with every glance. They loomed large now, black and menacing, but it was too late to try to gain a defensive position. The night dragons were too close.
‘Get ready for a tight turn, Pell,’ Shadow warned. ‘Fang says he is in position. I still don’t know what he intends, but on his call we’re going to split our formation. I’m to climb and turn right. The others have their directions.’
Pell gritted his teeth. The situation galled him. They were taking orders from Kira and Fang. Shadow might sound comfortable with this, but Pell was far from happy. Suddenly he was being pressed hard into the saddle as Shadow twisted her wings to initiate a viciously sharp climbing turn. The world around him instantly took on shades of grey as he fought the physical effects of the sudden force acting down through his body. Previous experience had taught him the best thing he could do was to tense all the muscles in his legs and stomach as hard as he could. He growled as he did so, using his anger to strengthen his straining manoeuvre.
His colour vision returned and his head swam as Shadow snapped out of the turn. Bright golden dots of light swarmed at the edges of his vision, but Pell ignored them. More pressing was the night dragon that had turned above them. It was the leader. Its talons gleamed hard and deadly. Pell shuddered, imagining what it would feel like to be caught in their grip. Why was Shadow not weaving? Surely it would be better to keep turning if they were to make it difficult for their attacker? The night dragon could fold its wings and attack them at any second.
‘Desist from your attack. Land now, or your leader dies!’
Pell could not quite believe what he was hearing.
‘Not my words, but Fang’s,’ Shadow informed him. ‘I’m relaying what he is telling them.’
Another glance up at the lead night dragon and Pell could sense its confusion. Just above it, but angling away was a smaller dragon. It was Fang. Somehow he had managed to snatch the night dragon’s rider from his saddle. He had then shed his camouflage and was now angling away, with the night dragonrider squirming in his grip.
‘How?’ Pell asked.
‘Apparently Fang is learning some new hunting tricks from Kira,’ Shadow chuckled. ‘At Kira’s insistence, Fang put all his effort into gaining as much height as possible. She anticipated our direction of flight based on where the night dragons were coming from and our planned destination. As we set off, the night dragons gave chase. Fang kept climbing hard, watching as we passed underneath him and waiting until the night dragons committed to their final attacking descent.’
‘Then Fang dropped in on top of them,’ Pell finished. ‘Clever. She used us like bait to draw them in and pounced when all their attention was focused on us.’
He looked around. The three night dragons were circling now. There was obvious confusion. The two riders were signalling to one another. Pell could not see them well enough to make out their gestures at this range, but he could guess what they meant. He grinned as he thought how they must be feeling.
The riderless dragon began keening; a high-pitched screech that set Pell’s teeth on edge and sent shivers down his spine.
‘Fang has repeated his order for them to land.’ Shadow sounded smug now. ‘I think they realise they have little choice. They are complying.’
She was right, Pell realised. The three black dragons were descending past them in a tight spiral, the lead dragon still emitting the tortured scream that was making his ears itch to be plugged.
‘Why is the lead dragon making that horrible noise?’ Pell asked silently. ‘I’ve never heard a dragon make such an awful racket before.’
‘Her rider is injured,’ Shadow explained. ‘She can feel his pain. I think he has a broken ankle. Fang says the rider’s foot got tangled in his stirrup as he was snatched from the saddle. Fang pulled him free, breaking his ankle in the process. He was lucky not to lose his foot altogether.’
‘Ouch!’ Pell winced, unconsciously loosening his own feet in his stirrups. ‘That’s got to hurt! I can’t say I feel much sympathy, but I wouldn’t like to be in his boots right now. Has Fang given them any further instructions?’
‘No. Not yet.’
‘Then let’s suggest we order them to stay where they are until midday,’ Pell said thoughtfully. ‘We can tell the dragons that we’ll drop their rider somewhere northwest of here, but they’re not to begin searching for him until this afternoon. We can say that if we sense them following us early, we’ll kill him.’
Pell put as much conviction into the threat as he could, knowing full well that Shadow was a terrible liar. If she knew he would not follow through with his threat, she would not be convincing. Shadow relayed the message and, to Pell’s surprise, Fang was quick to implement his idea.
Moments later the others had slipped into formation with Shadow leading the way, while the night dragons continued to spiral downwards. Looking back, Pell saw them land. It was impossible to tell if the night dragonriders would keep their dragons on the ground until midday, but he felt the warmth of victory spread through him as the shapes of the night dragons dwindled into the distance. The only niggling cold spot was a hard, knotty fact that nestled deep in his gut: the victory was not really his. It belonged to Kira and Fang.
Chapter Eighteen
Questions, Questions
‘Hold him down!’ Elian ordered firmly. ‘Sit on him. Do whatever you have to, but keep him still. This is going to hurt.’
Pell pushed the rider to the ground and sat on his chest, pinning the man’s arms against his sides. Kira leaned her full weight across the rider’s thighs and pressed down with all her might against his knees with her forearms. Nolita kept his head down, cupping his forehead with her palms.
‘What are you doing to me?’ he yelled, panic lending him extraordinary strength as he struggled against the three young dragonriders. ‘Let me go!’
‘I’m going to set your ankle,’ Elian told him, keeping his voice calm. ‘Not even a day dragon’s healing breath will help you unless we get the bones in the right place first.’
‘I don’t want that day dragon anywhere near me,’ the man gasped. ‘Leave me alone. Get off! AAAArrrrrgggh!’
The rider twisted and writhed as Elian rolled up the man’s trouser leg and began to gently pull at the boot that concealed his damaged ankle. There was a horrible sucking, squelching sound as the boot began to work loose. A small flood of blood poured from the top as the foot started to come free.
‘KEEP HIM STILL!’
‘Easier said than done,’ Pell grunted, fighting hard to keep the man from twisting out from under him.
‘Ooohhh! That’s not pretty!’ Elian observed, cringing as he finally freed the foot and put the boot aside. ‘The bone isn’t just broken. It’s sticking out through his skin!’
He grabbed his water bottle and emptied the contents over the wound to wash away the surface blood. The rider’s body bucked like a wild horse as the stream of water triggered a new wave of pain. Elian felt sick. A glance up at Kira revealed that she had her eyes shut. Her skin looked suspiciously pale. Pell sat on the man’s chest, facing the other way, his body shielding Nolita’s view. The gruesome task of trying to set the bone fell to Elian. Why do I get all the messy jobs? he wondered. He lifted his water bottle to his lips and let the last few drops dribble into his mouth before putting it to one side.
‘All right. Here goes,’ he warned.
The grating sound of bone on bone as he pulled and twisted the foot in an effort to realign the ankle was almost drowned out by the man’s scre
ams. Almost. What he could not hear, however, he could feel. His stomach turned as he fought to get the bones in line. Suddenly the screams stopped as the man lost consciousness. Elian grunted and gave one final twisting pull. The ankle looked straight, but it was so swollen that it was difficult to tell. It was as good as he could get it.
‘Nolita,’ he gasped, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. His hands were slick with blood. ‘Could you ask Firestorm to do his stuff now? I don’t think we need to hold him down any more, Pell. He looks unlikely to wake up for a while. Let’s stand back and see what miracles Fire can work.’
Nolita, Pell and Kira were all quick to move away from the unconscious body of the rider, who looked deathly pale against the lush green grass. Elian realised he had neglected to check whether the rider was still breathing. A man could die of shock under circumstances like these.
Too late to worry about that now, Elian thought, as Firestorm lowered his head and drew in a deep breath.
Elian did not really want to watch, but he could not help himself. He found the blue nimbus of the day dragon’s healing fire mesmerising. Even though he had seen the miraculous healing effects of Firestorm’s fiery breath before, he realised he was holding his breath as the day dragon breathed his fire across the rider’s leg.
‘Breathe,’ he told himself. As he inhaled he noticed a faint scent in the air. It was sweet, like that of a flower, but with a nutty, woody edge. He had not noticed it before. Perhaps during previous healings a breeze had carried the smell away, or maybe he had simply been too caught up in the moment. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. A feeling of healthy energy rushed through him. It was a heady experience.
Even though his eyes were still closed, Elian knew the moment Firestorm stopped breathing out the healing flames. For a moment he had almost felt bonded to the day dragon. It was strange. He was bonded to Aurora, yet he had felt a connection with the day dragon.
‘Did you feel that, Ra?’ he asked uncertainly.
‘Feel what?’ she asked.
‘Oh, nothing,’ Elian said quickly. ‘It was probably my imagination running away with itself.’
‘Sounds intriguing. What did you imagine?’
‘Well, this might sound crazy, Ra, but I could’ve sworn that I saw inside Fire’s mind while he was healing the rider. It was almost as if we were bonded, but the link didn’t feel like ours.’
‘That’s not crazy at all,’ she replied. ‘A day dragon risks much when he heals, for at that moment his mind is vulnerable. If another dragon were to look into his mind during that moment of weakness, Firestorm would not be able to conceal even his deepest secrets. Our bond is strengthening your mind. Your mental voice has much more power now than when we first met. It does not surprise me that you were able to reach out to Firestorm when he was at his most open. The scent of the healing fire probably acted as a conduit.’
‘The scent of his fire? Why would that serve to link our minds?’
‘All the senses work in harmony, Elian,’ the dragon said sagely. ‘Quite how our brains work is a mystery. Our senses trigger mental responses rather like reflexes. It’s not impossible that the smell of the healing fire triggered your mind to reach out. Don’t worry about it. Nothing can replace our bond.’
‘That’s good to know.’
Firestorm stepped back from the unconscious rider and Elian checked the man’s ankle. It looked completely normal now and the man’s breathing was deep and regular. He looked relaxed and free from pain.
Although it was soaked with blood, Elian put the man’s sock and boot back onto his freshly healed foot. There was no telling how long the man would sleep for. Ra insisted the man’s dragon would locate him easily by following the pull of their bond, but Elian did not want to take any chances. By night it would be bitterly cold. They did not want him to lose his foot to frostbite because they had not wrapped it.
The others were in their respective saddles by the time he had finished.
‘Come on, Elian!’ Pell urged, his voice loud and commanding. ‘We haven’t got all day.’
Elian looked around one last time before leaping up Ra’s foreleg and swinging into his saddle. The man was lying on top of a small grassy mound, with a stream nearby, so he would not be short of water when he awoke. There were occasional trees along the bank of the stream, but no woodland for some distance.
‘He looks very vulnerable there,’ Elian observed to Ra as they launched again. ‘Are there any predators in this part of Areth?’
‘There are predators in every region of Areth,’ Ra replied gravely. ‘But I don’t sense anything in the immediate vicinity. To be honest I will be surprised if the night dragons wait until midday before following. Don’t worry, Elian. He will not be there for long.’
‘This quest is getting more dangerous by the day, isn’t it?’
‘I never promised you an easy ride, Elian, but don’t you feel it’s better this way? If our task had been to simply fly somewhere, pick up an orb and return it to the Oracle, what sort of a life purpose would that be? The adventure of life is in the journey, not the destination. Death is the inevitable end for everyone – man and dragon. Without danger on the way, there is little adventure. I admit we have already encountered times when a little less danger would have been welcome, but I am not complaining. I feel alive, Elian. I feel needed. Important. Can you feel it too?’
Elian knew exactly what Aurora meant. He had always dreamed of adventure, but the more gruesome elements that went along with danger had never featured in his imagination. It was just as well that his parents didn’t know what he was doing. Excitement and adventure was one thing, but if they knew the sort of perils he was facing, they would worry themselves into an early grave.
The wind felt good in Elian’s hair as they climbed. He breathed deeply, enjoying the taste of the clean, cold air and banishing thoughts of danger to the very back of his mind. Flying was so exhilarating. It was a feeling like no other: liberating, exciting and at times deeply spiritual. His bond with Ra made it more so, for without that meeting of minds, riding her might be like riding on the back of any other animal. The excitement of flying would be there, but it was the bond that made the experience really special.
The landscape had changed drastically from the spectacular peaks of the great central mountain range. Those gigantic rocky heads had faded into the distance and were now little more than purple hints on the horizon behind them. Ahead the terrain was flat and green, although in winter this entire region would be buried in snow.
Such a scene was hard for Elian to imagine. Even in the depths of the cold season at his home in Racafi the temperature did not drop low enough for snow to fall. In the last two weeks he had seen snowy peaks on three mountain ranges. It looked beautiful; so pure and white. He wondered what it would feel like to touch. They were heading towards more mountains to find the home of the griffins. Maybe he would get the chance to touch it there.
During the next three days the four dragons carried their riders a vast distance, flying from early in the morning until late in the evening. The weather held fair. Light winds and sparse cloud helped their progress, but each day took its toll. The riders slept little and rose weary each morning. The breaks they took felt shorter with each stop. They saw no cities, or even towns. The land was harsh and forbidding, with little to offer settlers. They did pass over a few small clusters of dwellings and Elian wondered what had possessed the inhabitants to set up home in the middle of nowhere.
They stopped briefly at one such settlement late in the morning of the second day. Food was not a problem as the dragons were happy to hunt, but the four riders were getting sick of eating nothing but meat. Shadow obligingly killed an extra deer, which they traded at the tiny village for some fresh vegetables and bread.
‘Have you seen any other dragons passing this way recently?’ Elian asked as he helped a villager hang the carcass of the deer up on a hook to be butchered.
T
he man shook his head immediately. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Don’t see many dragons out this way. You’re the first riders we’ve seen these last three seasons, or more.’
On the one hand Elian was pleased they were not following directly in Segun’s wake, but on the other, it meant they had no idea if they had overtaken him on the quest.
Kira and Pell continued to clash regularly, but their disagreements appeared to be losing their fire. The two bickered over trivialities, but Elian noticed that Kira often provoked such confrontations to subtly deflect Pell from arguments over bigger issues. The Racafian girl was devilishly clever. She was letting Pell feel he was leading, but all along she had him dancing to her tune and he could not see it. If the older boy realised what she was doing, Elian knew tempers would flare spectacularly. It seemed to fall to him to mediate – not a role he relished, but one he knew was essential if they were to see this quest through to the end.
Nolita was little better. She did not argue like Kira and Pell, but it was clear she was still having a hard time coming to terms with being a dragon-rider. She continued to face up to her fears, but the constant stress was taking a heavy toll. The blond girl had been thin and undernourished when Elian and Kira had first met her in Cemaria. Although she ate a healthy amount of food each day, Nolita continued to look gaunt, with no physical signs of improvement in her health.
Every time they stopped to rest, Nolita raced off to the nearest water to wash her hands. It was a part of who Nolita was. But a worrying string of other little rituals was now building up. She had developed an after-landing ritual, a pre-food ritual, a post-food ritual, a pre-launch ritual, a pre-bedtime ritual and a start-of-the-day ritual. At each of these times, Nolita ran through a set routine of actions in a particular order. If any of the patterns were interrupted, she became flustered.