By the Silver Wind by Jess E. Owen Page A

wings, Shard dropped easily out of reach. Diving fast, he laughed at Asvander’s half chuckle, half growl behind him.
    The Lakelander, realizing he was no match for Shard in the air, swooped down to land. He hit hard on all fours in a cloud of dust and frost. Shard landed lightly, and when Asvander leaped after him, left his wings open to propel himself backwards. He slapped his wings together to smack Asvander’s head, and circled away.
    Asvander backtracked, growling in frustration, and Shard saw one eye winked closed as if one of his feathers had scraped it.
    He feinted in to Asvander’s left, ready to make him spin, but the Lakelander shouted and caught his tail feathers as he darted away. Catching hold, Asvander surged up and thrust his body against Shard’s to knock him to the ground.
    A flare of worry gave Shard strength and clarity, for Asvander had lost himself in frustration the last time they’d dueled, and he’d nearly broken Shard’s wing. Rather than scramble away or try to gain his feet, he went still, as if he’d struck his head.
    Asvander lunged up to him and ramped, wings flared, talons raised, then hesitated. “Shard? Are you—”
    Shard threw his body into a roll, knocking into Asvander’s hind legs. The bigger gryfon tumbled forward with a shout and Shard clawed up to his own four feet, darting away. A half laugh, half snarl came from his opponent, who whirled and leaped at him. Shard dodged back.
    Asvander trotted forward, more hesitantly, seeking an opening. Shard weaved one direction and when Asvander moved, he leaped the opposite way and scored a light scrape on his friend’s flank. Then he withdrew. Asvander followed, circling, but slowing.
    Shard darted in and out and around, taking a hit here and there but nothing serious. He watched as Asvander’s frustration mounted, then ebbed toward weariness.
    When Shard leaped forward the next time, it was Asvander who fell back, stumbling slightly. Then he took to the air again. The nimble, constant movement took all Shard’s focus and energy, but he could see it took even more from the Lakelander, who was used to fighting head-on, to blood or the death.
    They circled in the air, Asvander swiping for Shard’s tail and wingtips to try and throw him off balance, and hard swooping under and around to avoid and dizzy him.
    Shard swept talons in to drive Asvander back, but he caught Shard’s foot in his own and folded his wings, dragging Shard in a dive.
    “Yield!” Asvander shouted, as they both plummeted toward the ground.
    Shard wrenched and twisted but couldn’t break Asvander’s grasp. Water, water . . . he tucked one wing and fell to that side, which yanked Asvander along with him. Flapping hard, Shard steered their fall toward the onlookers.
    “Shard—”
    “Better let go!”
    When gryfons realized they were about to be smashed, they scattered with shouts and cries, some flying, some shoving into each other to get out of Shard and Asvander’s path.
    At the last moment Asvander swore and unlocked his grip. He was too late to correct, too big and broad.
    Shard flipped his wings open and managed to flap back into the fighting ring. Asvander tumbled on the ground, smacking into gryfons who were not fast enough, who growled and herded him back into the ring.
    He hobbled forward, some feathers out of place and perhaps a sprain, Shard thought, looking with a healer’s eye. Shard lunged forward, running a circle around his friend and suppressing a triumphant laugh. Asvander turned in place, swiping talons, but did not leap again.
    After a moment of this, Shard turned and butted into him head-on, and to his surprise and everyone else’s, Asvander fell with a grunt. Shard waited for him to rise. He did not, but lay there, panting against the dirt. Shard placed talons firmly on the feathers of his neck and squeezed lightly.
    “Do you yield?”
    Asvander growled.
    “We can keep fighting.”
    A single, choked laugh. “No. No, we can’t.