“So much for that,” I murmured to myself, as we passed the watching faces of Professor Alden and Logan. “Come on, Stormclaw, let’s fly!”
He responded to my words immediately, breaking into a gallop, and then flapped his breath-taking wings, lifting us into the air. I lurched forward as his gait changed, but quickly regained my balance and pushed myself back into position, resting my calves on his chest and keeping my hands well out of the way. I looked down and my stomach lurched. I hadn’t been able to see everything so clearly last night: had we really been going this fast? Everything beneath us was a blur – a blur that I really, really didn’t want to plummet into. I leaned back and gasped in a deep breath, then blew it out slowly. Stormclaw knew what he was doing. He looked after me last night, he wasn’t going to dump me now. I hoped.
Alden and Logan’s heads were tilted back, eyes shielded against the rising sun as we soared through the sky. I thought I could make out smiles on their faces, but it was hard to be sure from up here.
I leant forward just a fraction, looking for a spot to land.
“Let’s go down,” I told the gryff, fixing my eyes on the gate. He made a wide circle, bringing us down far more carefully than he had last night, but my stomach didn’t unclench until we touched the solid ground, and he brought himself to a stop.
“Not bad,” Logan called out, climbing the fence and coming over. “But he was in control, not you.”
“I don’t know if you noticed,” I said, sliding down from the gryff’s back, “But he’s a bit bigger than me. If he wants to go somewhere, I doubt anything I can do is going to stop him.”
Logan laughed.
“You’d be surprised. It’s all about your partnership. And training – for both of you. It’s one thing to be a passenger, but as an Itealta player, it’ll be your job to go after the ball, and you’re not going to be able to do that if you can’t steer him. That’s where your reins and saddle come in.”
He must’ve caught the look on my face, because he said,
“Look, I know maybe three people who could have sat that ride, bareback. You’ve got a natural rhythm. The tack will just make it easier.”
I chewed my lip, not voicing my concerns that Stormclaw might not appreciate me trying to steer him, and might decide he’d prefer I wasn’t on his back after all.
The professor appeared a moment later, carrying a saddle and an adapted headcollar to allow for reins to be fitted. The gryff obligingly lowered his head, allowing me to switch his headcollars in exchange for a scratch behind his ear, and then I led him over to the fence so I could reach up onto his back to fit the saddle. It was a little tricky, trying not to fall off the fence while I fitted the saddle to his back, but there weren’t any tacking-up steps out here and I didn’t get the sense I was supposed to ask for some.
“On you get, then,” Alden urged, and I scrambled onto his back and into the saddle. It was made of worn brown leather, with a massive saddle-horn at the front, and a tall ridge at the back, leaving me sitting securely in the middle. The stirrups hung down between them, just in front of his wings – further back than I was used to putting my feet. I took hold of the stirrup leathers and grappled my feet into the irons, trying not to kick Stormclaw in the process. Logan chuckled at my attempts and I shot him a dirty look. He held his hands up in surrender, but the amusement didn’t leave his face.
“She’s fiery,” he said to Alden in a voice I suspect I wasn’t supposed to hear. “She’ll make a good winger.”
With my face still turned away from them, I allowed myself a little grin. I’d never been anyone’s pick for sport at school. Finally settled in the saddle, and with my feet in their new, somewhat awkward position, I reached forward to pick up the reins – managing to jab myself in the gut with the saddle horn. I grunted, then smoothed out my face, trying to pretend my stomach wasn’t throbbing because of my idiocy.
“Alright, Lyssa,” Logan called – they’d made their way back outside the paddock again. “Shorten up your reins. We’re just going to get both of you used to the equipment. Stormclaw hasn’t been ridden properly in years. It’ll feel as odd to him as it does to you. Ask him to walk.”
“Uh, walk on, Stormclaw.”
He snorted and tossed his head, throwing the reins around in my hands, then backed up three steps and rustled his wings.
“I don’t think he likes the reins,” I called to Logan, just as Stormclaw threw his head forward, yanking them from my hands and almost pulling me right out of the saddle.
“It’s your indecision he doesn’t like. Be confident.”
I nodded and squared my jaw, then picked the reins back up.
“Let’s go, Stormclaw. Walk.”
I set my eyes on the far side of the paddock and felt movement under me. The gryff walked forward, his head bobbing with each step. I loosened my elbows, letting myself move with him.
“Yeah, that’s it!” Logan shouted from where he was sitting on top of one of the paddock rails. Alden had gone – apparently she’d decided we had it in hand. I wished I had her confidence.
“Steering is easy,” Logan told me as we reached him again. “Just squeeze the rein on the side you want to turn to. And I do mean squeeze – if you pull on them, you’re going to upset him, and you don’t want to do that mid-air, trust me.”
Don’t yank the rope tied around his face. Got it.
“But most of your steering will be done through body weight, anyway. Look where you want to go, and it’ll shift your weight on his back. He can feel that, and he’ll respond to it.”
Like he did last night when he was taking me to the grove. That seemed much smarter than messing around with reins. I kept my mouth shut and listened to Logan as he carried on instructing me, trying not to zone out with all the details being thrown my way.
“It looks like he’s already trained to voice commands to go faster or slower, and he’s willing enough to follow them – for you, at least. But you don’t want to be shouting your plans out for the other team to hear, so he needs to respond to touch signals, too. Press a hand to his shoulders in front of your saddle to ask him to go faster. Press a hand behind to ask him to slow down. Touch your feet just under his wing to tell him to fly or go higher, and in front of them to ask him to go lower or land. Right, enough talking. Get him moving. I want you to do a ramassage – a pick up. I’m going to throw a ball, you’re going to get it and throw it back to me.”
It sounded really simple when he put it like that. I pressed a hand against Stormclaw’s neck, just hard enough that I could feel the muscle beneath his feathers, and he walked forward. I pressed again and we broke into that awful trot – a third time and we were in the smooth canter.
Logan lobbed the ball into the centre of the paddock. It was about the size of a basketball, but it had metal handles on the top and bottom, and on either side. And it was lying on the floor, a whole lot lower down than I was. I locked eyes onto it and Stormclaw charged at it, responding to the slightest shift in my weight… and then we pelted straight past it, while I was still trying to work out how I was going to get it. I mean, I’d seen the way the players got it, but there was absolutely no way I was going to lean sideways out of the saddle and reach right down to the ground. I circled around and charged it again – and passed it again. I could keep doing this all day, but the ball was hardly about to leap up into my arms. Could I really reach down and scoop it up, without killing myself in the process?
It was Logan’s laughter that decided me. I circled around once more at the end of the paddock, and ran at the ball again. This time, I steered just off to the side, so the ball would be on our left – seeing as my right hand was strongest, and that’s what was going to be holding me in the saddle. I wrapped my fingers around the saddle horn, then leant my whole body sideways out of the saddle and down to the ground, stretching the fingers of my left hand out as I reached for the ball’s metal handles.
And then I fell.
Chapter Fifteen
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Between Itealta practice, working for Alden, and my private training sessions with Kelsey and Sam, the next few weeks passed in a blur. I made so many trips to the hospital wing that I could have found my way blindfolded – Logan assured me it was perfectly normal to break a few bones learning to play, but frankly I wasn’t convinced. And while it was great that Madam Leechington could mend up broken bones as good as new inside five minutes, it didn’t make breaking them in the first place any less painful.
Another full moon passed, and I made no comment when Kelsey disappeared out of our dorm when night started to fall. By the following morning, she’d been back in her bed like nothing had happened, other than the dark circles under her eyes.
The professors piled increasing amounts of work on us with each passing week, and I had no time to think about much else, until Christmas was almost on us. I’d had a letter delivered with the morning post, addressed to me in my mum’s neat handwriting. It had taken me a full half hour to bring myself to open it, by which time breakfast was in full swing. It wasn’t that I hadn’t wanted to hear from my parents, it was just… well, truth be told, I’d been avoiding the whole subject, as if burying my head in the sand would make the whole supposed adoption thing go away. At first, I’d told myself it wasn’t the sort of thing you could bring up in a letter, so I would speak to them about it as soon as I got another chance to call home. Then I’d decided it wasn’t the sort of thing you could bring up in a phone call, either, and it would be better to speak to them about it when I went home for Christmas. Although I’d been thinking the last few days that maybe it would be best if I waited until after Christmas – after all, I didn’t want to ruin the festive season for them by bringing up something that was probably just a load of rubbish, anyway.
I tore open the envelope, pushing my half-eaten bacon sandwich in Kelsey’s direction absent-mindedly, and pulled the letter out. My eyes quickly scanned the neat script and my mouth popped open.
“I don’t believe it!”
“What do you mean you don’t believe it?” Sam said between mouthfuls of his cereal. “Of course the first proper match of the season is on the first of January. It’s tradition.”
“Huh? No, not that. I know about the match, I’m first reserve. I mean this.”
I gestured to the letter, but Sam was staring at me with wide eyes.
“You’re first reserve on the Fire Itealta squad, and you didn’t tell us? That’s massive news! Have you stopped falling off yet?”
“What does it say?” Kelsey asked, looking at the sheet in my hands.
“My parents.” And despite what Talendale had said, I couldn’t bring myself not to think of them as my parents. They’d raised me, what else would they be? “They’re going to Paris over Christmas. A second honeymoon, she says. Holly’s going to be staying with friends, so there’ll be no-one at home.”
“I’d invite you to spend Christmas with us, but we’re going to stay with,” Kelsey threw a glance over her shoulder and lowered her voice, “my mother’s family. They’re put out enough with just me and my dad.”
“You can’t spend Christmas alone,” Sam said. “I’m staying here at Dragondale this year, why don’t you stay as well?”
“Yeah, might as well,” I said, but it wasn’t the idea of being alone, or the idea of being stuck in the academy at Christmas that was bothering me. I’d really needed to see their faces, see the similarities between us, and prove to myself that this adoption nonsense was just that – nonsense. If the Tilimeuse Tree didn’t know who my father was, then it certainly didn’t know who he wasn’t.
“That’s settled, then,” Kelsey said brightly, stacking our plates. “Let’s head over to Elemental 101 before we’re late.”
I looked around and was surprised to see the hall was almost empty – just a handful of stragglers clearing away their stuff. We hurried to Swann’s classroom and got there with about a minute to spare. The three of us dropped into our seats – still in the front row, while Felicity whispered something to Paisley and Cecelia that was probably about me, and I pretended I couldn’t hear.
“Everyone stand up,” Swann said, rising from her seat behind her desk, which was empty except for a lone candle and a large jug of water. “Come on now, everyone, up, up, up.”
There was a loud scraping of chairs as everyone got to their feet and exchanged confused looks.
“We’re going to have a little test. Pair up with someone of the opposite element.”
Faster than you could say, ‘anyone but Felicity’, the three of them made their way over to us, nasty smiles on their faces that made me suspect they’d known this was coming. I quickly looked around, but everyone else had hastily found partners, glad not to be paired with Felicity. Swann looked round the room and nodded her approval.
“Excellent. The first pair will come to the front… Sam and Cecelia. Everyone else sit down.”
When the scraping of chairs died down again, every eye was on the pair standing at the front.
“Now, Cecelia, come and stand at this end of my desk. And Sam, there, at that end. Good.”
Professor Swann lit the candle and took a step back, standing a few feet behind the desk, leaving the two students glaring at each other over the top of the candle.
“When I give the word, Cecelia, you will use your power to attempt to extinguish the flame. Sam, you will use yours to sustain it. Dominant hands only. If the candle remains lit at the end of sixty seconds, you will be the winner. However, should Cecelia manage to blow the candle out within than time, she will be the victor. Do you both understand?”
When they both nodded, Swann looked up at the clock on the wall above her head. As the second hand approached the top, she said,
“Ready… Begin!”
Cecelia threw up a hand, and across the desk, Sam mirrored the action. Both of their hands immediately started to glow. The flame flickered, and for a moment I thought it was going to go out right away, but Sam narrowed his eyes and stared at it, his palm flashing brighter red for a split second, and the flame flared then settled back into place, dancing side to side as it resisted Cecelia’s attempt to blow it out with her air magic.
My eyes flicked to the clock on the wall then right back again, not wanting to miss a thing. They were thirty seconds into the challenge, and so far Sam was holding his own, but his jaw was clenched and his brow furrowed. Cecelia’s pretty face was screwed up in a scowl and I could see her temper was starting to get the better of her. The hand hanging loosely by her side was balled into a fist and her lips curled back. I risked another look at the clock. Ten seconds.
“Go on, Sam,” Dean shouted from the back of the room, and the flame flared again as he redoubled his efforts. Five seconds. His hand wavered in the air, his fingers trembling as he stared at the flame, unblinking. Three seconds. Two. One.
“Finish!”
The flame was still burning as both students lowered their hands.
“Congratulations, Mr Devlin. You may both sit down.”
There was loud applause and some whooping from the fire elements as Sam walked back to his seat, grinning. Cecelia joined her friends and the three of them scowled at us.
“Next pairing,” Swann said, glancing among the pairs seated near the front. “Kelsey and Paisley.”
“Teach her a lesson,” Felicity called as they left us.
“You’ve got this, Kels,” I said, and she shot me a worried look in return.
They took their places, and waited for Swann to start them.
“Ready… Begin.”
They both flung their hands up, palms immediately glowing yellow and red. Barely ten seconds had passed when the flame flickered and shrank to a third of its size. There came a ragged cheer from the Airs, which silenced as the flame resisted the attempt to extinguish it and was replaced by whoops from the Fire students as the flame grew, edging bigger and bigger by fractions until it reached its original size.
Thirty seconds passed, and the tw
o girls continued to glare at the flame, palms outstretched and glowing. The room was divided by cheers and boos as the rest of the class encouraged and urged them on.
“Go on, Paisley, one more gust!”
“Keep going, Kelsey, not long now!”
The second hand on the clock ticked with painful lethargy, until only ten seconds remained.
“Barely an ember,” Felicity sneered. “No wonder she needs all those extra lessons with Underwood. She’s almost as bad as Charity.”
Kelsey’s eyes flicked to the blonde, anger and panic warring in them, for just a split second, but it was long enough. The flame blew out, leaving the merest flicker of smoke rising from the blackened wick, and Paisley grinned triumphantly. The Airs erupted into cheers, while the Fires booed, and called ‘Cheat!’ loudly, until Swann raised her hands and demanded silence.
“Settle down! The onus is on the competitor to maintain their focus and resist outside distractions. Though,” she singled out Felicity and arched a brow, “Unsporting conduct is highly discouraged in my classroom.”
Felicity hung her head, but as soon as the professor looked away, she shot Kelsey a snarky look.
“Ignore her,” I said, loudly enough for anyone nearby to hear. “She knew they’d never have beaten you in a fair challenge.”
“Oh, we’ll just see about that,” Felicity snarled, anger contorting her pretty face.
“Next pair,” the professor called. “Felicity and Lyssa.”
She gave me a nasty smile and sauntered up to the desk with a flick of her long hair. No surprise that she looked so confident – I’d gotten better at controlling my elemental power, but I wasn’t even close to her level. Kelsey gave me a sympathetic smile, and Sam clapped me on the shoulder, but both of them had the look of someone sending a lamb to the slaughter.
Druid Magic (Druid Academy Book 1) Page 11
