Gray-streaked Nowyrth did not trumpet his arrival to the skies, nor did he raise a whirlwind with the backlash from his broad wings. The young brown was a brooding, silent presence on Istabitha’s landing field, but the abrupt facets of his eyes practically sparked vermilion and amber.
G’zon, rumpled but presentable, slid down his lifemate’s matte flanks, landing quietly on his feet. He reached up absently to stroke the brown’s elbow, a tender gesture that belied the coldness in his gray eyes. “You’ll have luck,” he said, his harsh baritone chilling the fond nature of the words. “Don’t worry about it, Nowyrth.”
The Ryslen dragon curved his neck, one brilliant eye focusing on his rider. <<I will have luck,>> he agreed solemnly, his earth-shattering bass gentle. <<You are my luck, G’zon. Go carefully.>>
G’zon’s steps were firm, his stride free, although the new flying leathers creaked, gray wherhide against gray wherhide. The riding cap that kept the high, chill winds from nipping through to his scalp made his flat thatch of muddy blond hair stand up like a dragon’s headknobs, and the flying goggles around his neck clicked softly in time with his steps. The goggles had left a reddened ring around each slanting gray eye, and a paler stripe over his misshapen nose, but they scarcely detracted from the cold, primal power in that face.
He scanned the flight board, coolly, and the lines around his mouth creased in an unexpected direction—a smile. “Here, Nowyrth. What do you think?”
<<I have seen Sasiath, G’zon, and Naeodin,>> Nowyrth replied, almost worshipfully. <<Sasiath is worthy of everyone’s attention, and as for Naeodin…there will be sparks, my rider. She is, perhaps, a bit like you in temperament. Prettier, though,>> and the brown’s amusement rolled over him like a wave.
“And the responsibility, Nowyrth?”
<<You are a capable young man, used to command at odd hours. I am young and strong, flexible and swift. I have more of a nose for Candidates than a bronze would have, and I could command more respect than a blue or white. You are imposing, but your face isn’t likely to gain you enemies from jealousy. I would say that we are an excellent choice, G’zon, though logic plays very little part in flights.>> The dragon paused. <<The disadvantages are that she isn’t likely to be attracted to you, and I have no experience in flights. An older dragon might well out-fox me, try though I might. I cannot think of everything. If we do not catch, you must promise not to lose your temper.>>
G’zon shrugged and made a minimalist’s salute, finger to brow. “We’ve nothing to lose, do we?” He picked up the pen and began a slow, painful scribing of his dragon’s name.
<<And much to gain, my rider,>> Nowyrth whispered, as softly sibilant as waves upon the shore. Gray-brown wings mantled possessively as his eyes flickered claret and lavender. |
