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Authors: Marc Secchia
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Rider saddle yet conceived.
Silver sniffed, “Remains to be seen if these armpit straps will withstand the rigours of Dragon flight.”
Pip checked her saddlebags, located aft of her legs. Pygmy bow and arrows. Immadian forked daggers. Razor ribbons. Sword. Dragon Rider armour. She was ready to start her own war.
Silver said, “Brace yourself.”
“Not ready!” Pip hastily buckled in her waist-strap, fumbling as she was forced to work one-handed, followed by the double thigh straps. She stretched her legs gingerly, trying to find the least painful position.
“Ready now?” His fire-eyes whirled drolly at her over his shoulder.
A storm of Dragons taking off made Pip shield her face with her arm. She dropped her Pygmy bow as her bad shoulder declared its annoyance at being jostled. It bounced down Silver’s back. Clucking like an enraged parakeet, she unbuckled herself and retrieved the weapon.
“Any time before suns-set will do.”
Helpful, Dragon. Pip produced a stonking mental snort.
“Pip! Pip, wait!”
“Now Yaethi?” said Silver. “By my wings, the day grows old.”
Her habitually cool and collected friend bounded down the steps from the infirmary, waving a scroll above her head as though it were some form of scholarly sword. “Pip, I found it. Stop. Don’t leave without this.”
No, I’m apparently stuck on the ground with a bunch of dithering women, said Silver.
I’ll gladly smack you and your lizard-halitosis later, Pip offered with exceeding generosity. “What is it, Yaethi?”
Yaethi rushed up to Silver, all a-fluster. “Here, Pip. Catch.” An accurate throw landed the neatly tied scroll in her lap. She rattled, “It’s a code-breaking scroll written by Kaiatha’s father. We knew it was somewhere in the library but it had fallen behind a scroll-rack and it took all of the night to find and you have to take the scroll with you, alright? I’ve added two sheaves of notes from Master Shambithion and I, which are tucked inside, so don’t lose them in the Cloudlands or you will not be a popular Pygmy any more.”
Pip raised her hands in mock surrender. “Message hawk received at high speed, Yaethi. May we leave now?”
“The royal permission.” Yaethi swept into a fluid Helyon bow, hands outstretched as though she were about to dive from a height into water. “Go burn the heavens, noble Silver. By the way, did you know there’s a mosquito strapped to your back?”
Silver chuckled dryly, “Go burn a few scrolleaves, Yaethi, Rider of Arrabon. We’re relying on you.”
* * * *
The snap-spring of Silver’s vertical take-off caused Pip to groan in pain, but the young Dragon adjusted immediately with a low apology, deliberately smoothing his wingbeat in order to jar her as little as possible. Still, the intense acceleration pressed her against the additional padding installed behind her back as a concession to a wounded Rider. The school receded as Silver rose fluidly into the dawn’s first suns-beams, orienting upon a flight of winged specks climbing toward a band of pink-hued cumulus clouds blanketing the mountains east of the Academy volcano. The plan was to skirt the northern shore of Jeradia Island before turning northeast, following the Spine Islands all the way up to Archion and Sylakia. This retraced the journey in which Pip had first flown Dragonback to her new school with the Red Dragon Zardon.
Then, Zardon had fallen to the Marshal’s forces. Pip sucked in her cheeks. Could she hope the feisty old Shifter had only been brainwashed into becoming one of the Night-Reds? If asked, could she fight a Dragon who had become her friend? Who had called her his Rider?
The horizon remained mute to her questions.
Silver forged toward the rising suns with a steady yet forceful wingbeat, visibly overhauling the Dragonwing ahead. The air was so fresh and cool, free at last of volcanic gases and grit, it made her shiver with pleasure. The view over Jeradia’s mountains was more
Silver sniffed, “Remains to be seen if these armpit straps will withstand the rigours of Dragon flight.”
Pip checked her saddlebags, located aft of her legs. Pygmy bow and arrows. Immadian forked daggers. Razor ribbons. Sword. Dragon Rider armour. She was ready to start her own war.
Silver said, “Brace yourself.”
“Not ready!” Pip hastily buckled in her waist-strap, fumbling as she was forced to work one-handed, followed by the double thigh straps. She stretched her legs gingerly, trying to find the least painful position.
“Ready now?” His fire-eyes whirled drolly at her over his shoulder.
A storm of Dragons taking off made Pip shield her face with her arm. She dropped her Pygmy bow as her bad shoulder declared its annoyance at being jostled. It bounced down Silver’s back. Clucking like an enraged parakeet, she unbuckled herself and retrieved the weapon.
“Any time before suns-set will do.”
Helpful, Dragon. Pip produced a stonking mental snort.
“Pip! Pip, wait!”
“Now Yaethi?” said Silver. “By my wings, the day grows old.”
Her habitually cool and collected friend bounded down the steps from the infirmary, waving a scroll above her head as though it were some form of scholarly sword. “Pip, I found it. Stop. Don’t leave without this.”
No, I’m apparently stuck on the ground with a bunch of dithering women, said Silver.
I’ll gladly smack you and your lizard-halitosis later, Pip offered with exceeding generosity. “What is it, Yaethi?”
Yaethi rushed up to Silver, all a-fluster. “Here, Pip. Catch.” An accurate throw landed the neatly tied scroll in her lap. She rattled, “It’s a code-breaking scroll written by Kaiatha’s father. We knew it was somewhere in the library but it had fallen behind a scroll-rack and it took all of the night to find and you have to take the scroll with you, alright? I’ve added two sheaves of notes from Master Shambithion and I, which are tucked inside, so don’t lose them in the Cloudlands or you will not be a popular Pygmy any more.”
Pip raised her hands in mock surrender. “Message hawk received at high speed, Yaethi. May we leave now?”
“The royal permission.” Yaethi swept into a fluid Helyon bow, hands outstretched as though she were about to dive from a height into water. “Go burn the heavens, noble Silver. By the way, did you know there’s a mosquito strapped to your back?”
Silver chuckled dryly, “Go burn a few scrolleaves, Yaethi, Rider of Arrabon. We’re relying on you.”
* * * *
The snap-spring of Silver’s vertical take-off caused Pip to groan in pain, but the young Dragon adjusted immediately with a low apology, deliberately smoothing his wingbeat in order to jar her as little as possible. Still, the intense acceleration pressed her against the additional padding installed behind her back as a concession to a wounded Rider. The school receded as Silver rose fluidly into the dawn’s first suns-beams, orienting upon a flight of winged specks climbing toward a band of pink-hued cumulus clouds blanketing the mountains east of the Academy volcano. The plan was to skirt the northern shore of Jeradia Island before turning northeast, following the Spine Islands all the way up to Archion and Sylakia. This retraced the journey in which Pip had first flown Dragonback to her new school with the Red Dragon Zardon.
Then, Zardon had fallen to the Marshal’s forces. Pip sucked in her cheeks. Could she hope the feisty old Shifter had only been brainwashed into becoming one of the Night-Reds? If asked, could she fight a Dragon who had become her friend? Who had called her his Rider?
The horizon remained mute to her questions.
Silver forged toward the rising suns with a steady yet forceful wingbeat, visibly overhauling the Dragonwing ahead. The air was so fresh and cool, free at last of volcanic gases and grit, it made her shiver with pleasure. The view over Jeradia’s mountains was more
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