by Lucinda Hare
'Yes, this one, saddle her up!' Darcy spat. 'And get a move on! Don't just stand there.'
The stablemaster on duty, an aged veteran who had lost an arm twenty years earlier, intervened cautiously: Darcy's short temper was well known. 'Ride the Rising Wind, my lord?' he queried uncertainly. Everyone knew that this little mare was fiery-tempered and required an experienced hand. 'But your fathe—'
His voice faltered in the face of Darcy's cold fury, but the old soldier stood his ground, gently guiding Root behind him with a shaking hand. Unsheathing his wand, Darcy angrily fired a casual magic that slammed the stablemaster into the stable wall. He groaned, head lolling on his chest.
Root turned and fled in panic, screaming, 'They've hurt the stablemaster!' as he stumbled, breathless, over the paddock wall, scraping the skin off his hands. 'Dragonmaster! Dragonmaster!' He threaded his way through the crowds to tug at Tangnost's battle-braid, his other hand pointing shakily towards the battleroosts.
'Steady, lad. Take a deep breath.' The dwarf bent down and put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. 'Slowly now – tell me what's happened.'
'The Lord Darcy has hurt the stablemaster because he wouldn't saddle up Rising Wind for him. He ...' Root hesitated as more and more faces turned his way.
'What?' Tangnost was shocked. Only spoiled children who didn't know any better used magic to get their way with servants. 'Surely not?' Not even Darcy would be so foolish as to hurt a man who had fought in the SDS at his grandfather's side for thirty years.
'L-Lord Darcy,' the boy repeated, quailing beneath Tangnost's glare. 'He's intending to ride Rising Wind ...'
The dragonmaster was furious. If the Earl's son was any judge of griffin flesh, he would know that the young mare was still half wild and very dangerous, not long broken to the saddle. He glanced at Quenelda, who was deep in discussion with one of his roost masters, Gromell Widgewort. They were examining the healed wounds on Two Gulps' hindquarters, surrounded by an enthusiastic group of esquires and Bonecrackers. They were about to saddle up the battledragon.
'You two,' Tangnost ordered Quester and Root. 'Come with me!'
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ride the Rising Wind
Inside the battlegriff roost, the stablemaster coughed and spat blood. Around him, half a dozen apprentices and several esquires stood rooted to the spot, each terrified of attracting Darcy's attention.
'Saddle her!' Darcy ordered as the old man tried to get to his feet. 'Now!'
'Immediately, my lord!' One of the esquires stepped forward to stand protectively between the stablemaster and Darcy's wand.
What luck! Felix DeLancy thought. What an opportunity to show up that little guttersnipe Root for the coward he was. It would do no harm to ingratiate himself with the young heir and appear to be protecting that stupid old man at the same time. Ride the Rising Wind was one of the youngest battlegriffs in the stable, so she should be easy to handle. This was his chance to prove that he was the best choice for the Lady Quenelda's new esquire, not that pathetic Root who had fled at the first sign of trouble.
'Immediately, my lord.' Felix raced for the tack room. 'You there,' he shouted at an apprentice polishing a spiked training bit used for breaking in difficult mounts. Vicious, Felix thought, but suitable for the young Lord Darcy. 'Bring that bit and a bridle,' he ordered. 'And you, a number three saddle. Move!'
'Hurry up and saddle her, damn you.' Darcy's fear had goaded him to foolishness and he knew it now. What if he made a mess of things? He couldn't bear the humiliation in front of his friends, who thought he was a daredevil like them. He knew he wasn't half the flyer that Guy was, and although he would never admit it to anyone, he was very afraid of heights. The Unicorn regiment suited him so much better.
Darcy's heart was racing as Felix threw a fleece over the small battlegriff. He turned his back on the stablemaster, who was finally struggling to his feet, and sheathed his wand. 'That'll teach him to question my orders,' he said coolly, pleased no tremor betrayed his rising panic.
'Go for it, Darcy!' His friends were laughing, clapping him on the back.
'Wow, she's a beauty, Darcy. You don't often see mountain hippogriffs these days.' Even Guy was wide-eyed with approval as Felix led her out.
The esquire was now regretting his bravado too. The powerful mare was more of a handful than he had judged, and Darcy's friends were only making things worse.
'Look at those golden eagle eyes and that blue beak! She could tear a man's head off with those talons!'
'My lord,' the stablemaster tried one final time, 'she is a wild creature!'
Wild? Felix swallowed, mouth suddenly dry with fear. He was now very close to those piercing eyes and that sharp beak!
'Think you can handle her?' Guy taunted Darcy. His rivalry with the Earl's son went back to the nursery.
'Of course!' Darcy snapped. 'I—'
'Keeaww! Keeaww!' Responding to the tense atmosphere, Rising Wind reared up. Her talons raked the air, forcing the boys backwards out of the stall.
'Watch out! She's a pedigree battlegriff,' Darcy boasted, though his heart was galloping out of control now. 'One of my father's personal mounts. One day she'll be mine, just like all those others out in the paddocks. Bring her outside.'
'What are you doing?' Tangnost arrived, bristling with anger, and challenged Darcy as he emerged from the roosts. 'My lord, you're unsettling the battlegriffs.'
It was true. The roosts were now echoing with their cries and the flurry of wings. Darcy spun round.
'Settle them down,' the dragonmaster ordered the two esquires who had arrived breathless from the training arena. 'Now! Before they all get out of control.'
'How dare you! How dare you address me in this fashion! You, a mere commoner!' Darcy spat the last word.
Ignoring the insult, the dwarf held his ground, his expression steely. 'I merely obey your Lord Father's commands, my lord. As you should. You are expressly barred from the battleroosts.'
'My father is not here.' Darcy spoke coldly and deliberately. 'He is on Dragon Isle. So you answer to me now, not him. Stand down, or you lose your place at Dragonsdome.' He would show him; he would show them all what he could do! That he was fit for command.
'My lord.' Tangnost bowed mockingly. Well, he thought, the brat was about to learn a hard lesson in flying that he would not readily forget. The hippogriff would have him off in no time at all. He wouldn't even leave the ground. The Earl could deal with his son when he returned. He stepped back, a faint smile on his lips.
'Give me those!' Goaded to recklessness by the dragonmaster's condescending tone, Darcy snatched the reins from Felix. 'Come on.' He jerked viciously as Rising Wind danced sideways and away from him, her hooves clattering on the cobbles. As he tried to mount, hopping awkwardly on one leg, his left boot slipped out of the stirrup and he nearly fell. Face flaming, he was rescued by Felix, who led the nervous creature towards the mounting block at the end of the stables.
'Stay still, damn you.' Darcy raised his arm and swallowed a cry as a wing struck him hard in the face. He spat blood and a feather. Highly trained though the young battlegriff was, she had no combat experience yet, and Darcy's unbridled panic was sending all the wrong signals. She had been trained to throw an inexperienced rider – a ploy to prevent an enemy from capturing a trained SDS battlegriff.
The Earl's son almost fell out of the saddle as he stepped off the mounting block, and his poor handling caused Rising Wind to step backwards, hooves striking sparks off the cobbles, knocking one of the esquires to the ground.
Fear made Darcy careless. Desperately gathering the reins, he unthinkingly dug the cruelly spiked dragonspurs hard into the hippogriff's unprotected flanks.
Rising Wind shrieked her outrage as blue blood ran from the deep puncture wounds in her silver flanks. As she reared, thwarting Tangnost's lunge for the bridle, Darcy realized too late what he had done. In danger of losing his seat, he instinctively yanked on the reins to keep himself in the saddle
, digging the spiked training bit into the soft inner tissue of the hippogriff's beak. Blood-flecked foam sprayed the air, splattering Tangnost and Darcy's friends with blue droplets.
'Watch out!' the dragonmaster shouted.
Darcy's panicked movements were similar to the command to scythe on the battlefield: to clear the space around of all enemies.
'Stand back, you fools! Stand back!' Tangnost barked, pushing Darcy's friends away with a powerful thrust of his arms. 'Stand back if you want to live! My lord,' he warned Darcy, 'dismount! You have already lost control of her.'
The next second, with a powerful flap of her wings, the angry mare kicked out backwards with her hooves, while her beak and talons struck in the classic battlefield manoeuvre. The young apprentice next to Felix screamed and crumpled into a heap, clutching his stomach, his intestines drawn out like a string of pale sausages by a hooked talon. Meanwhile Guy's left hand was severed by the battlegriff's beak. The white-faced youths stood frozen in disbelief as blood sprayed into the air in a red fountain. Then Guy's knees buckled and he fell to the ground. Root fainted.
Sensing disaster as screams of panic filled the air, Darcy unsheathed his wand and fired a hasty subjugation spell. But his sloppy casting was poor through lack of practice and the weave was unravelling even as the spell settled on the battlegriff. The runes he chose were nowhere near powerful enough to dominate or bind a battlegriff to obey him. The effect was the opposite of what he had intended.
Certain now that Darcy should not be in the saddle, Rising Wind reared up, gathered her powerful haunches, and with a beat of her feathered wings, bolted upwards. The ascent was so steep that within moments Darcy was unseated. Held only by his left boot, which was snagged in the stirrup by his spur, he tumbled backwards with a scream.
Quenelda, halfway to the battlegriff roosts in pursuit of Tangnost, stopped in her tracks as she heard the screams ring out, then looked up in open-mouthed disbelief as Rising Wind climbed steeply overhead, her brother in his distinctive new racing leathers bumping against her flank like an unwanted piece of baggage.
'Darcy! '
She looked at the crowd milling around outside the roosts. She could hear Tangnost bellowing orders; panicked shouts carried on the wind. Looking up again, she knew it would take the esquires a while to saddle up, and there were no other dragons or hippogriffs in sight. There was no time to lose! Darcy's boot could slip any moment and it didn't look as if he had attached a flying harness. She turned back towards the training arena, where Two Gulps was still exercising.
Two Gulps and You're Gone ... She wasn't sure if the
dragon would hear her over such a great distance. She quested out towards him.
Dancing with Dragons? His whisper was at the edge of her hearing. But although they had not yet flown together, their bond was strong. Already the battledragon was responding to the confused jumble of Quenelda's unspoken thoughts and emotions. Knowing only that she needed urgent help, he flew swiftly over the paddock walls, leaving the confused roostmasters and esquires wondering what was happening.
In moments Two Gulps had reached Quenelda, his right wing brushing the ground near the paddock walls where she stood anxiously on the cobbled path. It was clear what he was expecting her to do. She was his mistress now, and she needed to be airborne in a hurry.
Instinctively understanding his intentions, Quenelda ran up the rising wing and was seated at the dragon's shoulder as it dipped a second time. She braced her legs beneath the kuluck, the thick joint where wing and shoulder met, and lay along the length of his neck; then girl and dragon left the ground. With a powerful flick of his mended tail, Two Gulps rose steeply through the air.
Below Quenelda, turmoil had broken out. Guy had passed out, blood still pumping from his severed wrist. His companions stood frozen with shock. Cursing, Tangnost ordered two battlegriffs to be saddled immediately to go in pursuit of Darcy, and barked at Root, who was staggering to his feet. Best get the boy out of the way – he was as white as a ghost.
'Root, fetch the surgeon immediately. And where is the Lady Quenelda? We could do with her calming the roost.'
'Sir! Yes, sir!' Once again Root fled gratefully.
'Help me,' Tangnost ordered Rupert and Simon as he knelt beside Guy. 'Hold him down. We need to get a tourniquet on quickly or he'll bleed to death.' Cursing again, he whipped off his belt. 'Here ...' he instructed Rupert. 'Strap it round his arm here and keep it tight.'
He went over to the apprentice. The young gnome lay gasping for air like a landed fish, his thrashing growing weaker by the second. Pink bubbles frothed around his lips. The dwarf knew there was nothing to be done for him now. 'Hush, lad, you're all right,' he said, gently cradling his head. 'We'll get you to the hospital. Hold on, Grouse. Hold on, lad ...'
The words were barely out of his mouth when the apprentice sighed and fell silent. Tangnost swore bitterly at the careless loss of life, not caring who heard him.
Reluctantly he turned his attention to the cause of all the mayhem. Darcy's own life was now in serious danger; somehow he needed to be rescued!
'Bearhugger! Look! Look!' Rupert was pointing upwards.
The dwarf's eye widened in amazement. Quenelda was already soaring up and up and closing fast on her brother. On Two Gulps and You're Gone!
'Mount up! Mount up!' he shouted to his esquires, who were finally leading out two mounts, tripping in their haste to get them saddled up. 'Mount up and help the Lady Quenelda to bring that battlegriff down before the Lord Darcy does any further mischief.'
'That was a combat takeoff! I swear it was.' Simon looked up from restraining Guy, who was moaning with pain. His blood loss had slowed to a trickle, but Tangnost could see that he was going into shock.
Still looking skywards, Rupert was open-mouthed. 'She's actually flying a battledragon!'
'When did she learn to do that?' Simon's eyes were wide as he looked at Tangnost. 'Wasn't that the Stoner Manoeuvre?'
Rupert lifted his telescope. 'It was,' he confirmed in disbelief. 'She's flying with no saddle or bridle—'
'What?' Even Tangnost looked up at that, frowning against the glare as if that would help him see the dwindling specks that soared above Dragonsdome.
A strong north-east wind was buffeting the battledragon. Quenelda clung on, fingers instinctively finding minute ridges between his scales. Two Gulps was much slower than the smaller battlegriff, but they had almost caught her when, folding her wings, Rising Wind suddenly dived, trying to rid herself of Darcy.
By now, Darcy's hoarse screams were growing faint. He was badly battered, and a sharp hoof had caught the side of his helmet, making his head ring. As the battlegriff plummeted towards the ground, he could barely breathe, let alone scream. Suddenly Rising Wind levelled out and he was dragged through the top branches of a chestnut tree, slapped and buffeted by branches. Rooks rose up all around him, screeching their outrage.
The Earl's son hadn't strapped on his new helmet properly. Striking a branch, it fell to the ground, along with the boy's wand, which detonated on impact, demolishing a tiled stable roof. The blow knocked Darcy out and he now swung limply beneath the battlegriff's belly like a clock pendulum, stoking her temper ever higher.
Quenelda was closing in. Two Gulps didn't need any guidance by bit or bridle; he identified the focus of her thoughts, and she wisely let him have his head. Having gained the advantage of height, he folded his wings and dived like a bird of prey, swiftly catching Rising Wind.
The battlegriff passed low over the large paddocks, almost colliding with a juvenile Viper who was just getting airborne. On the pursuing battledragon, Quenelda had an impression of a white face, a fading scream and an explosion of feathers, and then they were sweeping over the paddocks.
'Keeaww! Keeaww!' the enraged hippogriff screamed, her beak snapping bad-temperedly. Darcy's stirrup was tearing a gaping wound in her side. Quenelda could hear her complaints: How dare he? No Wings dishonours me! I am no fledgling to be broken wi
th spur and bit!
Your pardon, Ride the Rising Wind ... Quenelda brought her dragon in as close as she dared. Any nearer and their wings might collide. The battlegriff was in a dangerous mood, spoiling for a fight. It would take a while to calm her. Meantime she might easily rake Darcy with her talons and beak, or kick him with her hooves.
Quenelda's mind raced, trying to dredge up every last piece of information she had heard from Tangnost about battles. What was it he had said to his esquires about combat landing?
If you become entangled in your mount's flying harness and your hippogriff lands, the impact alone might badly injure you. If that doesn't happen, then the odds are you will be crushed by your mount landing on you ...
So persuading the battlegriff to land wasn't an option. What should she do?
No Wings does not know how to fly ...
Quenelda tried to soothe the battlegriff while she searched for inspiration. Forgive him – he is ignorant of our ways ... Let me try and rid you of him ...
Perhaps the best thing to do was help her brother back into his saddle, then persuade the battlegriff to land.
'Darcy! Darcy!' she shouted as her brother swam back to consciousness. 'Give me your hand! Darcy!'
As the trees and paddocks of Dragonsdome's outer training area swiftly passed beneath them, Quenelda rolled Two Gulps and You're Gone over through ninety degrees; then, moving forwards and hooking her right leg around the dragon's right kuluck, she leaned out to grab Darcy's hand; but her brother was rigid with fear, and didn't seem able to help himself.
Bringing Two Gulps and You're Gone to a hover, Quenelda tried frantically to think of a better idea. Remember – she heard Tangnost's words echoing in her head – battlemounts are trained to kill. That is their instinct. Never fly too close to another mount, and never fly directly beneath.
Flying alongside and running from wing to wing was also a highly skilled and dangerous battlefield manoeuvre, only practised by the SDS in extreme need. It required great discipline and long experience. She and Darcy clearly had neither. The risk of collision or of falling was too great, and Quenelda wasn't strong enough to lift her older brother up behind her.
