Shadow

by Mark Robson

  With that, Kira turned on her heel and stomped across to Fang’s side. Pell watched her go out of the corner of his eye. He did not want Elian and Nolita to see that she had got to him with her comments, so he did his best to keep his features composed and his apparent focus on Shadow. Inside, however, he knew there was something in what she had said. The Oracle would die if he failed. The words in the rhyme had been carefully chosen to give him the best chance of success. If Kira were not such an annoyance, he would have thanked her.

  He sprang up Shadow’s foreleg and swung into the saddle. Placing his feet into the stirrups, he let Shadow know he was ready to go. She sprang forwards at once, launching into the air to follow Karrok. Dirk on Knifetail quickly settled into formation alongside them.

  The griffin flew steadily along the centre of the valley and Pell soon noticed the metal stand that Karrok had mentioned. It looked very much like the plinth that Nolita had described when she found the first orb, though there was no sign of an orb here.

  Karrok continued flying along the valley past the plinth and some distance further before swooping down to land on a large, snow-covered rock. The two night dragons followed him down, landing on a flat area just short of Karrok’s vantage point.

  The griffin turned to face the two dragons.

  ‘You must attempt three tasks,’ he cried, his harsh voice echoing slightly from the huge walls of rock on either side. ‘The first task will test speed, coordination, judgement and bravery. You are to fly up the valley, adjusting your height until you are level with two griffins who will be hovering side by side, each holding a lance in their talons. They will wait until you pass a marker, then drop their lances. Your task is to each catch a lance before it hits the ground. If either dragon is below the height of the griffins when the lances are dropped, that dragon and rider will automatically lose the task.’

  Pell’s heart sank as he remembered Shadow’s words that fateful day when he had fallen from her back. ‘I’ve never been very good at catching.’ Shadow had caught him, but she had struggled. Catching a lance dropped from a much lower altitude was infinitely more difficult. The lance was likely to spin and tumble, making a catch difficult to judge and offering the potential to injure, or even kill, the catcher. Alternatively, it might spear downwards, streamlined and fast and impossible to catch up with. The chances of Shadow being able to catch a falling lance seemed very small.

  ‘How are you feeling today, Shadow?’ he asked, trying to sound upbeat. ‘Ready to play catch?’

  ‘I can think of things I’d rather do,’ she admitted. ‘But I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Your best will be fine. No one can ask more than that. Not even the Oracle.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Battling it Out

  Once they were airborne and climbing, Pell’s nerves began to settle a little. Flying on Shadow’s back with the wind in his hair and the familiar rhythm of her wingbeats was comforting. It made him feel complete. Dirk and Knifetail were climbing alongside them as the two pairs positioned themselves for the first task. Pell looked across at Dirk. The older rider looked confident and composed. Was that bravado?

  ‘Conserve your energy, Shadow,’ Pell told her, as he sensed her desire to show Knifetail who was the stronger dragon by climbing so fast that she couldn’t keep up. ‘We don’t know what the other two tasks are yet. Let’s not compete unnecessarily.’

  ‘You are right, Pell. I was acting like a hatchling. Sorry.’ A moment later she spoke again. ‘I see the two griffins now. They are higher than I expected. That’s good.’

  Pell scanned the sky. A breeze, nonexistent at ground level, chose that moment to gust and swirl, causing Shadow to dip and bump. The turbulence was only light, but it was uncomfortable and it added an unwanted level of difficulty to the search. It took a little while for his eyes to pick up the two tiny figures hovering high above the valley.

  ‘Yes, I see them,’ he confirmed. ‘You’re right, Shadow. They’re being far more generous than I imagined. At least we’ll have a fighting chance of making a catch before the lance hits the ground.’

  They circled round and round, climbing ever higher, until they approached the height of the griffins. By now the turbulence was more pronounced and the two dragons widened their formation to avoid an inadvertent clash of wings as they bounced around in the invisible maze of up- and down-drafts.

  Without warning, Knifetail tightened her turn inside Shadow and began to make a run down the valley towards the griffins. Pell cursed aloud.

  ‘After them,’ he urged, but his thought was redundant, as Shadow had reacted at precisely that instant.

  Dirk’s dragon was fast, but Shadow was just a shade faster. As she powered along at a level speed greater than Pell had ever experienced before, the rough air made it impossible to do any more than hang on as tightly as he could. Over the previous two years, Pell’s stomach had become hardened to the lurching, bumping ride sometimes experienced on dragonback. However, the combination of nerves, excitement, and the sheer intensity of the turbulence at this moment brought the acid taste of sick up into the back of his mouth.

  The wind and the bouncing blurred his vision. They were almost alongside Knifetail, when Shadow suddenly folded her wings and dipped headfirst into a screaming dive for the valley floor.

  The lance! Pell was so focused on catching up with the other team, he had forgotten to look ahead at the griffins. Shadow was absolutely howling through the air now and Pell was leaning almost flat against her back. He was forced to squint so much against the blasting wind that his vision was limited to a fine line, obscured partially by his eyelashes. It was madness. Shadow bounced and bucked as she accelerated faster and faster, but Pell was oblivious to everything other than his search for the falling lance.

  The grey rock of the valley walls was a blur and the bright white of the snow-covered valley basin seemed to swell as they hurtled earthwards. The pressure built painfully in his ears and he swallowed hard several times in quick succession to relieve the discomfort. All the time he was doing his best to see the lance. If it had not been for the snow, Pell doubted he would ever have spotted it, but suddenly there it was, spinning just below them. The brown of the wooden weapon stood out against the background of white as it spun. It looked long but slender.

  ‘Dive under it!’ The idea rocked Pell as he recognised their best chance of success. ‘Don’t try to catch it. Dive under it. I’ll do the catching.’

  Shadow did not answer, but he felt her adjust her dive to an even steeper angle. He sensed her trust in him through the bond. He could only hope the trust was justified. There would be time for one attempt only. The grey rock-face of the walls was diminishing fast as they ran out of altitude.

  With what seemed like painful slowness, Shadow caught up with the lance, diving past and underneath it. Pell picked his moment. He would have preferred to catch it with his right hand, but the lance was having none of it. He watched as the long wooden weapon spun, moving above him and to his left.

  ‘Now, Pell! It has to be now!’ Shadow urged. The sense of ground-rush was growing fast.

  Gripping the pommel of the saddle in his right hand, Pell forced his body upright and reached out with his left hand. The force of the wind pushing against his chest was immense. The muscles in his right arm bulged and trembled as he fought with all his might against the force trying to tear him from Shadow’s back. He gritted his teeth and let out a snarl of defiance at the wind as he stretched out further and further.

  ‘Up a bit,’ he growled aloud.

  ‘No time.’

  Shadow snapped her wings outwards and the great leathery expanses smacked against the airflow with immediate and dramatic effect. The dragon’s effort to deflect their plummeting descent caused an abrupt difference in relative velocity between Pell and the lance. It suddenly whipped downwards like a giant quarterstaff, smacking into the V between his thumb and fingers with such force that for a moment he thought his thumb must hav
e broken. His fingers instinctively closed around the shaft of the lance, but keeping a grip on it was difficult. Aside from the intense spike of pain from his thumb, the apparent weight of Pell’s body and the lance suddenly multiplied by several factors as the force generated by Shadow’s rapid turn crushed him against her back.

  ‘AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!’

  The cry was involuntary. It squeezed out through tightly-gritted teeth, as he clenched his stomach muscles as hard as he could. Everything turned grey as the force peaked. In a last-ditch effort to retain consciousness, Pell tightened every other muscle in his body and focused every last drop of his energy into not letting go of the lance. Then it was over. The force reduced and the weight of the lance lightened. They were in level flight, skimming at high speed along the base of the valley.

  ‘Gods alive, Shadow!’ Pell exclaimed aloud as realisation dawned at just how low they were. ‘You cut that fine!’

  ‘We cut that fine, you mean,’ Shadow replied, her tone carrying a hint of reproof. ‘Are you all right? I felt your pain as you caught the lance.’

  Pell had transferred the lance to his right hand to avoid inadvertently dropping it, but it was nearly impossible to grip the pommel with his left hand. His left thumb was throbbing and, although he could just about move it, he could not put any pressure on it without experiencing extreme pain.

  ‘I caught the lance awkwardly and hurt my thumb, but it’s not too bad,’ he replied. As the words passed his lips he wondered if they were as much for his own benefit as they were for his dragon. ‘Where are Dirk and Knifetail?’ he asked, looking around. He could not see them anywhere.

  ‘Behind and above us.’

  Pell looked over his shoulder. Knifetail was a good hundred spans above them and Pell could see she was gripping a lance in her talons.

  ‘Damn!’ he muttered. ‘I wonder what happens now.’

  Shadow used the last of her momentum from the long dive to ease up into a tight climbing turn to the right. They rolled out of the turn and flew back to where they knew Karrok was waiting. A couple of minutes later, they landed back at the far end of the canyon. Knifetail and Dirk landed next to them. Pell dismounted and placed the lance on the snow in front of Shadow.

  Karrok regarded both dragons and riders impassively.

  ‘Yours was a brave catch, Pell,’ he said, his harsh voice carrying a note of respect. ‘But Knifetail was first to catch a lance. Therefore Dirk and Knifetail win the first challenge.’

  Pell’s instinct was to protest immediately. When he had described the challenge, Karrok had said nothing about the fastest partnership to catch their lance. He opened his mouth, hot anger flaring and arguments boiling up inside him.

  ‘Yield unto justice.’ Shadow’s unexpected quote from the Oracle’s verse doused the flames of his anger so fast it left an icy aftershock in the pit of his stomach. Was this justice? He was not convinced. But despite his instant misgivings he clamped his mouth shut. He respected Shadow’s judgement. ‘Stay focused,’ she continued. ‘There are two more tasks. We just have to win them both.’

  ‘No pressure then,’ Pell growled silently. He glanced across at Dirk. The big man had a smirk on his face that fuelled the fire of Pell’s anger. His thoughts raced through a hundred nasty things he would like to do to wipe the expression from his opponent’s face, but Karrok chose that moment to begin briefing for the second challenge.

  ‘The second task will test the coordination and daring of both dragons and riders,’ Karrok began. ‘Riders will take up the lances. You must now use them to collect five rings. Soon, if you look along the valley, you will see two lines of my brothers, one on either side, hovering at varying heights. The rings will be below them, suspended by lengths of string from their talons. Your friends are securing the rings as I speak.’

  Pell was horrified. His hand to eye coordination was good, but the lance was at least four spans long. Controlling the tip would be incredibly difficult whilst flying. Holding it in his right hand was no problem. His biggest difficulty would be staying on Shadow’s back, as he had no gripping power with his left hand at all.

  ‘You will start from here on my call,’ Karrok continued. ‘Once you have the rings, return them to me here. It will be a few more minutes before my brothers are in place. I suggest you rest until then.’

  Pell inspected his left thumb. He had been unconsciously cradling it in his right hand ever since he had put the lance down. It did not look pretty. A dark purple bruise was blossoming all around its base and the lower half of it was swelling noticeably. He prodded the bruise gently with his finger and immediately regretted it. A spike of pain shot up his arm that set his eyes watering.

  ‘I never thought I’d say this, but having Firestorm here would be useful right now,’ he admitted to Shadow. ‘It’s no use. I’m not going to be able to stay in the saddle and use a lance if I’ve got to rely on my left hand for support.’

  ‘Do you wish to yield?’ Shadow asked.

  Pell knew from her voice that she would be devastated by that outcome, but yielding had never been in his nature. ‘No! Of course not!’ he replied immediately. ‘Lower your foreleg again, please. I need to climb back up. I’ve got some rope in my saddlebag. I’m going to tie my left hand to the saddle grip.’

  Pell grabbed the lance and made his way over to Shadow’s side. He propped the lance upright in the crook of her foreleg and then climbed up into the saddle. It was awkward, but he managed it without too much trouble. The saddlebag was easy enough to open with one hand and after a moment or two of rummaging around he found what he was looking for.

  The piece of rope was too long, so he wedged a short length under his knee, twisted the desired cut point between the fingers of his left hand and sawed through it with his belt knife. He inadvertently dropped the longer length. It slid to the ground, but he knew it was no loss. He had what he needed. Carefully sheathing his knife, Pell then tried to secure his left hand to the saddle grip at the pommel. It was hideously difficult and immensely frustrating. Time and again he twisted the rope into different knots, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not get them tight enough.

  In the distance he saw the griffins begin to rise into the air in a stream. He was running out of time. It was a compromise, but rather than try to tie the knots tightly, he decided to use a couple of simple self-tightening slipknots instead. A double hitch onto the pommel grip, followed by the same around his wrist was completed just in time.

  ‘Riders, take up your lances.’

  Karrok’s order made Pell jump. He leaned across and grabbed the shaft of his upright lance. With a shuffling sequence of mini throws and catches, he worked his right hand along the shaft until he had hold of the weapon in the correct place behind the hand-guard. It towered above him like a flagpole. He knew he couldn’t fly with it like this, so he carefully lowered it at an angle across Shadow’s back until the shaft was resting between two of her ridges. The point was about a span to the left of her head.

  ‘Don’t turn your head to the left, Shadow,’ he warned. ‘I don’t want to take your eye out with this thing.’

  ‘It is a little distracting there, Pell,’ she admitted. ‘If you could raise the tip a bit once we’re airborne, I’d appreciate it.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Pell and Shadow, collect the rings from my brothers on the left of the valley,’ Karrok ordered. ‘Dirk and Knifetail, yours are on the right. Make ready.’

  Shadow turned around to her right until she was facing down the valley. Alongside her, Knifetail was doing the same.

  ‘GO!’

  Shadow accelerated forwards so fast that Pell rocked back in the saddle. The whiplash effect yanked the slipknot at his left wrist, tightening it painfully as he felt the lashing pass its first test. With his balance quickly restored, Pell leaned forwards and angled the tip of the lance upwards slightly as Shadow powered up into the air.

  Aim to fly slightly below and to the right of the ri
ngs as we approach them,’ Pell told her, looking ahead along the line of the valley. The first of the griffins was clearly visible ahead. He could see the ring below the griffin. It seemed stable enough with its open mouth towards him. As they got closer he could see that it was bouncing up and down with each wingbeat of the griffin, so timing was crucial.

  Pell raised the tip of the lance still further. It was good that he was concentrating to the left of Shadow. If he had been able to see Dirk and Knifetail out of the corner of his eye, the temptation to watch them would have been strong. The ring was approaching fast.

  ‘Smooth it out as we approach,’ Pell ordered. Shadow complied, using her momentum to soar the final couple of dragon-lengths without beating her wings in order to give Pell a stable platform from which to spear the ring. In those final few moments Pell concentrated furiously on the rhythm of the ring’s rise and fall. He could see instantly why the ring was so stable. There was not one string holding the ring, but two: one from each of the griffin’s taloned feet.

  His judgement was perfect, dipping the tip of the lance into the very centre of the hoop. There was a very slight tug on the lance as the strings broke and then Shadow was turning right and descending towards the next griffin, which was considerably lower than the first. Pell shot a swift glance at Knifetail and Dirk. They were a fraction behind, but Dirk too had secured his first ring. There was no time to worry about them further. The next ring was approaching.

  The angle of approach this time was not so easy. They were descending and Shadow had taken a very slight turn to the left to prepare their exit angle for the next target. Pell fixed his focus on the ring, but he could not work out the rhythm of its rise and fall. Before he knew it, he had hit the bottom of the ring with the tip of the lance. One of the strings snapped instantly and the ring flashed past his head, spinning round and round on the one remaining cord.