Page 25 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
“There will be blood out there today, and it’s likely to be yours,” Pemberley stated. “Good luck; you’re going to need it.”
Lelantos sniffed at Pemberley eagerly, as if detecting snacks in his pockets. Valeraine gave the reins a twitch of disapproval. It wasn’t time to go making friends. “You’ll need luck more than I will,” she said.
Mr. Rosings shouted over the frenzy, announcing the route: they would go to the lake to the east (a two mile journey), then loop around Rosings house itself, and land back in the field. The other riders began untying their dragons’ tethers and mounting up.
Valeraine laid her hand on Lelantos’ neck, trying to project confidence and focus. “We go with the horn, and we will go quickly.” She nudged him to turn toward the east, and was gratified that he moved without protest or resistance.
There was a stolidness to Lelantos’ stance, full of wisdom. He had flown in more derbies than anyone else here. He was strong, and knew what he was about. He had maybe even raced at Rosings in centuries past. She felt his determination to fly fast, a burning desire to overcome the dragons around him, to prove himself the strongest. He was ready. She was ready to fly with him.
When the horn blared, a black dragon to their left snapped out at Lelantos, biting his wing. Her dragon turned in outrage to facethe challenger, teeth bared to return the bite, a glowing spark sizzling between his sharp teeth.
They didn’t have time for this.
If Lelantos started a fire, all there would be was chaos and failure.
Valeraine frantically flicked the reins. “Come on! We fly, go!”
It was the sight of other dragons taking to the air, more than Valeraine’s urging, that moved him. They were already in the back half of the pack of riders. Lelantos was volatile, skittish.
“Go, go, Lelantos.” She placed a comforting hand on the scales in front of her. “You are stronger than all of them, and faster than most. Let’s show them.”
Over the trumpeting dragons, the jeering spectators, and the rush of the wind as they gathered speed, he likely hadn’t heard her at all. He instead felt her meaning through the soft touch, and through the fragile bonding they were starting to share. He heard her intention in the way that it mirrored all those hours of training where she had encouraged him.
He flapped his wings, slowly and steadily, and took on speed enough to move forward in the pack. A quick count of dragons ahead put them in seventh place. They were lower in the air than most, with a few dragons hanging above her, their talons wickedly sharp.
“Let’s climb, then we’ll dive to the lake.” She added a flick up on the reins to get the message across. As Lelantos began to climb, they dropped back in the rankings. Eighth, ninth.
She felt the turbulence before she heard the dragon, heard the dragon before she felt it.
It was right behind and above them, close enough she could have reached up and stroked its belly.
Its claws were outstretched, and Valeraine had just enough time to juke to the side, leaning in her saddle, so that one claw hit her shoulder instead of all of them gouging through her back.
It cut through her shirt sleeve like a snipped thread, and the skin underneath with hardly any more resistance.
Her upper left arm felt hot and wet, agonizing in its burning pain. She screamed, and Lelantos roared with her, suddenly diving to escape, then swinging back up in a dizzying arc that took them above the pack, to the rear.
She checked her dragon, first. Another cluster of claws had gotten to Lelantos’ back. One of the scratches was oozing blood, but slowly. Dragon hide was much stronger than a human’s. He would be fine, healed within a few days. The strong pumping of his wings attested that those vital membranes, much more vulnerable, were undamaged.
Valeraine was scared to look at her own injury. The only thing she was sure of was that she still had both arms. She held the reins with her uninjured right arm, urging Lelantos on.
A quick count of the dragons ahead of them put Lelantos in eleventh place. But she could be missing a dragon. Or double counting one. It was so difficult when everyone was moving so much.
What if she didn’t have two arms anymore. She wasn’t sure what that would feel like.
Valeraine finally looked at her left shoulder. It was red.
The white shirt had been soaked with blood, spreading and running down her arm.
She had an arm. It would be fine.
Valeraine wanted to prod the wound, to see how deep, how bad it was.
Her right hand was busy, however. She dared not let go of the reins, both for directing Lelantos and for holding on.
She was dizzy.
Maybe that was from the turbulent flying.
