Page 32 of The Dragonrider and the Void
Hardin reached for her, his hand finding the grip of the riding harness in the dark.Come on Quin, I’m going to show you my homeland.
Hardin swung into the saddle, muscle memory guiding him despite the darkness. The practice flights he’d undergone in training gave him a solid understanding of the basics, but none of those short ventures had prepared him for taking off in the dark and navigating from the middle of the Everburning Forest all the way to Doran’s eastern shores. In this, he was relying on Quinthara’s instincts.
She spread her wings, the motion silent despite their span. Her glimmering onyx scales proved a perfect camouflage in the night sky. Quinthara’s calming presence soothed his racing heart. He let out a sigh and settled into the saddle.
“You’re right,” Hardin said, answering her emotional pull. “The camp will be far behind us before they realize we’ve gone.”
Hardin adjusted the straps securing him to the saddle before they took to the sky. He’d learned to pay attention to this safetyfeature on their second flight. Riding a dragon wasn’t as simple as merely holding onto a wagon seat.
Quinthara hesitated. She was questioning their experience when it came to flying as a pair. She knew her limits without him on her back. Now, though, they wondered how far she could fly before she needed rest.
“We could still turn back,” Hardin offered. “We could wait to help my hometown until I have better control over this magic business.”
Quinthara’s answer came with her crouching into a launch position. He felt her need to do this mission with him. What was important to him was now important to her and vice versa.
Hardin pressed his chest flat against the bracer at the base of her neck. Their consciousness became one.Up,they thought in unison.
Quinthara’s powerful legs released, and she launched them skyward. The ground fell away as she vaulted through the canopy, her wings threading between branches. Each powerful beat carried them higher, above the trees of the Everburning Forest.
The pre-dawn air bit at Hardin’s face, shocking away the last threads of uncertainty. Below them, the rebel camp was nothing more than a darker patch in the endless sea of trees. No alarm had been raised. No pursuit enacted. They had left without notice.
But as they banked west toward Doran, toward home, Hardin felt the power within him churn. It was almost as if the energy they’d consumed from the Hyalite knew he couldn’t contain it. Like it wanted to break free from his control.
He adjusted in the saddle. The journey to Doran was going to be a long flight. Hardin didn’t have the added comfort of being in a protected camp, guarded by soldiers and having more experienced spell casters to fall back on.
Hours later, when dawn crept over the horizon and Quinthara’s wings caught the early light, a firestorm flashed in the near distance. The smoke column building from the burning timber grew into a towering thunderhead they would soon need to fly around.
A twinge suddenly twisted through Hardin’s veins again, this time stronger than it had before. He clenched his jaw, trying to force the tingling power away. A flash of lightning blossomed in the storm and Hardin felt a jolt of energy pass through him.
Is it building in me again?He thought, seeing another flash of lighting and immediately feeling a surge of power threaten to break out unbidden.
Quinthara groaned with concern.
“We should keep our distance. I don’t know why the storm affects me like this,” he said.
Quinthara began to angle around the storm and that’s when Hardin felt it. It came the instant Quinthara’s senses took over his.
“The air feels, wrong,” he said.
She banked farther, adjusting their course to fly well around the storm.
“Why haven’t we felt this when storms passed by the camp?” Hardin wondered aloud.
The answer came from his dragon’s thoughts. Outside the protective wards at camp, the very atmosphere felt exposed and vulnerable. Any Paragon worth their reputation would be watching the skies, especially since the King of Skol was broadcasting to the world that Marcel Heartfell had returned. And a dragon couldn’t stay hidden forever in broad daylight.
A spike of power lanced through their bond without warning, taking them both by surprise. A violet shower of energy sprayed out through Hardin’s arms, crystalizing into ice that pelted and cut Hardin’s exposed skin. Quinthara flared her wings fora moment, dropping several dozen feet to avoid any more injury from the violet shards of ice that had formed there. She recovered, both rider and dragon breathing heavily.
“Sorry,” Hardin gasped, patting the scrapes on his face and seeing traces of his blood. “It’s getting harder to control.”
Another surge built within him, this one strong enough that the clouds nearby began to swirl, disturbed by their energy.
Quinthara snorted, pointing her neck down, indicating they should ground themselves before it got any worse.
Is it wise to land now?he thought.This close to the storm?
She purred, her answer a resounding, yes. He wanted to argue, to push around the firestorm and continue toward his homeland, but he knew she was right. At this height, a loss of control wouldn’t just expose them, it could kill them. Below, there was cover within the trees.
The descent proved more challenging than either of them anticipated. Quinthara’s wings cut through the pluming clouds, flexing and bracing against the strengthening winds. Lightning arced among the clouds, each strike possibly heralding the fragments of a god’s power.
