By the Silver Wind by Jess E. Owen

with a flurry of frustrated swipes and his snapping beak, and Shard fell back. And back, circling backwards as Asvander advanced. He didn’t scramble or hurry, but dipped, dodged and planted his hind paws firmly with each evasion. Air, air, earth —he blocked Asvander’s slashing talons— air— he slid away.
    Hearty cheers and shouts from the Vanir of, “Shard! Shard, the prince!” sent strength to his heart. I am the Silver Isles, the Vanir. And we are as strong and unending as the sea.
    It came to him like a bright wind. He would win the fight not by forcing a yield, but by outlasting Asvander.
    Water . . . use his strength.
    Asvander shoved forward again, and Shard dropped to his belly and rolled forward into the charge, causing Asvander to all but trip over him and skid face-first in the dirt.
    The Vanir roared their approval. Stigr shouted, “Ha, fast as a falcon!”
    Unable to catch Shard on the ground, Asvander roared his frustration and shoved up to leap at Shard from the air.
    As Asvander dove, Shard held his ground, facing down the open beak and big, curved talons. Just when Asvander’s expression changed to panic that Shard had not moved, Shard dropped to his belly and darted forward under the dive. Air. I am wind, which does not tire or yield.
    With no time to correct, Asvander crashed hard in the dirt again and rolled.
    Ketil shouted for Shard to attack while he was down. In the Sunland, Shard might have attacked. But that was for a different goal—to drive an opponent from the ring. Here, he had to follow his new plan.
    He circled, flexing his wings. Asvander lurched up and around and watched Shard with renewed, wary calculation. With a sharp battle cry, Shard leaped forward, talons splayed, and Asvander ramped to his hind legs to meet him.
    The Lakelanders bellowed approval—at last, there might be blood—but Shard feinted to one side, then when Asvander turned, changed course and darted around behind him. Asvander twisted to follow, falling to all fours and swiping blindly. Shard scampered a quick ring around him, causing Asvander to spin almost comically after him, as if he was chasing his own tail.
    I am wind, he can’t touch me.
    If the fight was to first blood, Shard would have fought differently. But it was to yield.
    “Stop and fight!” roared Asrik from the crowd. Shard ignored him. It wasn’t as if dodging Asvander didn’t take skill, or if his repeated attempts to pin Shard down or leap at him weren’t earning the Lakelander a scrape or two.
    “Why?” laughed Stigr, from the group of Vanir. “Your son’s bruising himself enough!”
    Again, Shard made it look as if he planned a grand attack. As Asvander crouched, looking wary, Shard gathered himself and lunged, but as Asvander flung up his talons to meet the charge, Shard shoved from the ground and leaped straight over his head, flapping hard to circle. Asvander followed with a ringing shout.
    Shard, being smaller, leaner, with the shaped wings of a sea eagle, spun loops around Asvander, and his tail-feathers were always just out of reach of the bigger gryfon’s talons.
    He heard cheers from below and flushed with pleasure that his plan seemed to be working, and that his pride would see him succeed on his own terms.
    He heard Brynja cheer for him at last, and sheer delight filled him. His flying had been one of the first things to attract her interest, and it filled him with pride now. Shard flew high, into the wind, and Asvander followed stubbornly, until they were out of earshot of the spectators.
    “This was your idea,” Asvander snarled at him, flapping hard to hover, though respect softened the harsh words. “Fight! I can’t do this all day. “
    “No?” Shard angled to glide a sharp circle around his friend. “Do you yield then?”
    Asvander’s eyes lit as he at last understood Shard’s plan. Rather than yield, he bellowed a lion’s roar from his chest and swooped in to try and catch Shard’s tail. Shutting his