Flying Challenge

Pell faces the first of 3 flying challenges to secure the second of the dragon orbs.


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 he 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 it 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 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 have 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.’