He stood still, watching her leave, and raised his hand.
She waved to him until he faded into the distance.
CHAPTER SIX:
TORN
After endless turns in endless
darkness, they flew toward the sunlight on the back of a dragon.
"Home," Torin
whispered, the wind stinging his eyes. "Dayside."
Tianlong, the black dragon of
Ilar, flew upon the wind, wingless but flowing forward like a snake
upon water. His black scales chinked and his red beard fluttered like
a banner. Torin and Bailey sat in the saddle, pressed together, as
the dragon flew across the last miles of darkness toward the sun.
The stars and moon still shone
above, indigo spread across the sky, and shadows cloaked the land
below. But ahead Torin saw it: the dusk, the glow of his homeland.
The memories pounded into him, as stinging and mighty as the wind. He
could smell the fresh breads dear old Hem would bake, feel the
softness of woolen cloaks, hear the song of birds, taste the cold ale
in The Shadowed Firkin tavern . . . and most of all, feel safe. Feel
warm. Feel at home. Until now, fighting for the night, he hadn't
realized how much he missed the sunlight. Now his eyes watered.
"There it is, Bailey,"
he whispered as the dragon flew. "The light of our home. Don't
you— Bailey? Bailey! Get down!"
Sitting before him in the
saddle, Bailey was unbuckling herself and struggling to rise. Torin
grabbed her waist, trying to pull her back into the seat.
"Let go of me, Winky."
She wriggled herself free, placed her ankles under her backside, and
stretched out her arms. Slowly she began to rise.
"Bailey, you'll fall!"
Torin winced. "We're flying a mile above the world."
She grinned over her shoulder at
him. "And it's wonderful." With a single, fluid movement,
she rose to her feet in the saddle, stretched out her arms, and stood
upon the flying dragon. Her two golden braids flew behind her like
comet tails. She tossed back her head and laughed. "It's
wonderful, Torin! Stand up with me. Fly with me! I— Whoa!" She
wobbled, windmilled her arms for balance, and steadied herself.
"Almost fell there."
Torin grimaced. Sitting in the
saddle behind her, he held her ankles. "I'm holding you until
you sit down! You're going to get yourself killed."
Bailey shook her head, arms
stretched wide, head tossed back. She inhaled deeply, the wind
flowing around her. "It would take a silver arrow to kill me.
Stand with me, Torin! Stand up and feel the wind and see the sun."
He shook his head, wincing. The
dragon coiled as he flew, the wind gusted, and Torin clung to
Bailey's legs. "Sit down. Please."
She kicked her legs about,
tearing his grip off, and slowly raised her right foot, bringing it
to rest against her left knee. "Look at me, Torin! It's like
flying. Stand with me or I'll hop around and then surely fall."
"Don't you dare hop,
you'll—"
"Then stand with me!"
She looked down over her shoulder and grinned. "Hold onto me if
you're scared. I dare you, babyface. I dare you! If you don't stand,
I'll trumpet the news around Moth that Torin Babyface is the most
cowardly coward in both day and night. I'll— Whoa!" The wind
gusted, Bailey tilted, and her arms windmilled until she steadied
herself. She kept one foot raised, teetering on the other.
Torin grumbled. "If I
stand, you have to put both feet down."
"Deal."
Cursing with every vile word he
knew, Torin unbuckled himself. His heart thrashed madly. As he slowly
began to rise, he winced and held his breath. Damn Bailey could
always do this to him! Back home, she would dare him to swim across
the river, then laugh as he floundered and nearly drowned. She would
goad him until he climbed the maple tree in the village square, then
taunt him when he fell. And now this, the worst challenge of
all—standing on a damn flying dragon.
Barely daring to open his eyes,
Torin rose to his feet in the saddle and wrapped his arms around
Bailey's waist. They stood together, him rigid and clinging to her,
her with her arms outstretched
She waved to him until he faded into the distance.
CHAPTER SIX:
TORN
After endless turns in endless
darkness, they flew toward the sunlight on the back of a dragon.
"Home," Torin
whispered, the wind stinging his eyes. "Dayside."
Tianlong, the black dragon of
Ilar, flew upon the wind, wingless but flowing forward like a snake
upon water. His black scales chinked and his red beard fluttered like
a banner. Torin and Bailey sat in the saddle, pressed together, as
the dragon flew across the last miles of darkness toward the sun.
The stars and moon still shone
above, indigo spread across the sky, and shadows cloaked the land
below. But ahead Torin saw it: the dusk, the glow of his homeland.
The memories pounded into him, as stinging and mighty as the wind. He
could smell the fresh breads dear old Hem would bake, feel the
softness of woolen cloaks, hear the song of birds, taste the cold ale
in The Shadowed Firkin tavern . . . and most of all, feel safe. Feel
warm. Feel at home. Until now, fighting for the night, he hadn't
realized how much he missed the sunlight. Now his eyes watered.
"There it is, Bailey,"
he whispered as the dragon flew. "The light of our home. Don't
you— Bailey? Bailey! Get down!"
Sitting before him in the
saddle, Bailey was unbuckling herself and struggling to rise. Torin
grabbed her waist, trying to pull her back into the seat.
"Let go of me, Winky."
She wriggled herself free, placed her ankles under her backside, and
stretched out her arms. Slowly she began to rise.
"Bailey, you'll fall!"
Torin winced. "We're flying a mile above the world."
She grinned over her shoulder at
him. "And it's wonderful." With a single, fluid movement,
she rose to her feet in the saddle, stretched out her arms, and stood
upon the flying dragon. Her two golden braids flew behind her like
comet tails. She tossed back her head and laughed. "It's
wonderful, Torin! Stand up with me. Fly with me! I— Whoa!" She
wobbled, windmilled her arms for balance, and steadied herself.
"Almost fell there."
Torin grimaced. Sitting in the
saddle behind her, he held her ankles. "I'm holding you until
you sit down! You're going to get yourself killed."
Bailey shook her head, arms
stretched wide, head tossed back. She inhaled deeply, the wind
flowing around her. "It would take a silver arrow to kill me.
Stand with me, Torin! Stand up and feel the wind and see the sun."
He shook his head, wincing. The
dragon coiled as he flew, the wind gusted, and Torin clung to
Bailey's legs. "Sit down. Please."
She kicked her legs about,
tearing his grip off, and slowly raised her right foot, bringing it
to rest against her left knee. "Look at me, Torin! It's like
flying. Stand with me or I'll hop around and then surely fall."
"Don't you dare hop,
you'll—"
"Then stand with me!"
She looked down over her shoulder and grinned. "Hold onto me if
you're scared. I dare you, babyface. I dare you! If you don't stand,
I'll trumpet the news around Moth that Torin Babyface is the most
cowardly coward in both day and night. I'll— Whoa!" The wind
gusted, Bailey tilted, and her arms windmilled until she steadied
herself. She kept one foot raised, teetering on the other.
Torin grumbled. "If I
stand, you have to put both feet down."
"Deal."
Cursing with every vile word he
knew, Torin unbuckled himself. His heart thrashed madly. As he slowly
began to rise, he winced and held his breath. Damn Bailey could
always do this to him! Back home, she would dare him to swim across
the river, then laugh as he floundered and nearly drowned. She would
goad him until he climbed the maple tree in the village square, then
taunt him when he fell. And now this, the worst challenge of
all—standing on a damn flying dragon.
Barely daring to open his eyes,
Torin rose to his feet in the saddle and wrapped his arms around
Bailey's waist. They stood together, him rigid and clinging to her,
her with her arms outstretched
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