My pastor once mentioned to me that when one saw death approaching, that one was closer to God than at any point in your life. One’s life was to fly before their eyes, their sins and virtues put before them in one brief beautiful moment before they were taken by the angels to the place above.
However, as I watched Beithir dive towards me like the Devil bringing all the brimstone of hell cookin’ in its mouth. I saw nothing but teeth and flame. The scream that tore from my lips was quite manly, and I leapt back, grabbing Morrigan in the process and threw the both of us onto the ground. A loud whump of the wyvern landing behind me was in contrast to the sound of our bodies bouncing along the dirt. I had twisted myself in the air so that Morrigan would be beneath me, at the very least if the damnable beast burned me alive she wouldn’t take much, if any, of it. I stopped there, positioned above her as I waited for the flame, pain, and quick death with my eyes closed.
It never came. I waited a good twenty seconds, the heavy breathing of the beast behind me the only sound until Morrigan let out a cough. Opening my eyes slowly I found her face a few inches from my own with something just between our ches-
Her fist hit me in the nose.
I lurched back, cradling my nose as Morrigan sat back up. Truth be told it didn’t particularly hurt, little more than the pain I’d get running into a door. But the sheer suddenness of it threw me for a loop. “Aye, well remind me not to save ya the next time a Wyvern comes around to cook ya and yer nippers.”
“I do not,” Morrigan said as she stood up and brushed the dirt off of the back of her outfit.
“Have any ‘nippers’ thank you. Try to use what small little thing up in there constitutes for a brain if you would be so kind, if she wanted you dead she would have killed you long before you made it to Glasgow.”
…
Alright, so she did admittedly have a point, and the fact that I was at the time not being shaken around in its jaws or being burned alive was as good a sign as any that Beithir didn’t actually wish me any harm. But that didn’t mean she’s correct either. “If a bull runs towards ya fer a hug, ya don’t stand there and just let it make friendly intercourse with yer ribs. Ya get out of the way, the same thing applies for an eight-hundred-pound lizard that can breathe fire.”
“I hardly think the situations are comparable,” Morrigan replied bluntly.
“Aye, the bull can’t destroy a barn by crashing into it from the sky, or breath fire,” I said, standing up myself and looking back at the beast as I did so. “Ah’d take the bull any day.”
Beithir sat on its legs staring down at me, head tilted to the side as I stared up at it. Licks of flame sputtered at the sides of its mouth as it breathed, a good sign that the wound on its chest was finally, truly on the mend. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out the small jar of ointment, then pointed down at the ground. “Well lay down ya dumb beast, can’t expect me to climb ya like a tree now can ye?”
Beithir lets out a snort that I would swear is sarcastic, before it laid its long neck down onto the grass, its tongue flicking out to taste the air briefly even as the small jets of flame set the tallest stalks alight.
Morrigan stepped forward as I got to work at the joints of its wings, her shoe patting down the burning grass to put it out. Not without commentary, of course. “I see it has truly warmed to you quickly. Most of my students couldn’t get one so obedient in twice the time.”
I turned back to look at her from where I had transitioned from rubbing the ointment between its wings to applying it below the chest plate, one hand was rubbing at the now healed wound, while the other was lightly scratching the beast beneath the chin to keep it calm. “Aye? What makes ya say that.”
Morrigan gave me a wry smile but didn’t follow up, instead changing the subject. “Are you ready to try riding it?”
I stop rubbing Beithir and fully turn to look at the woman, ignoring the feeling of the Wyvern pressing its snout against my back. “Should there be lessons or learnin’ how to proper take care of it first?”
Morrigan arched a brow. “If you don’t enjoy the act of riding it there won’t be much point in the lessons. Most of my students had experience riding as children, you don’t. Therefore you need to see if you can actually enjoy it before I will bother training you.” She then pointed off towards one of the buildings near the entrance. “I had one of the staff put your equipment in there, get dressed quickly.”
I could see the point in that, though it did still seem like a rather rapid leap into danger. But then again, I rather heavily doubted there were any particularly safe aspects of wyvern riding. Still, it was rather sudden. With one last look at Beithir I nodded at Morrigan and stepped past her into the building she pointed out. It was, in all honesty, little more than a stone shack. A simple building with one door and one window pressed against the walls that make up the aviary. Inside there was little more than a series of stalls with curtains, all closed. At first glance, I assumed they were for changing, and the fact that one at the far end was open with my ‘equipment’ hanging on racks supported that theory. Walking over I stepped inside, and the stall was thankfully large enough for me to both step in and move around.
The equipment, on the other hand, was… well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. There wasn’t any need to remove any of the clothing I was wearing, as all of the equipment on offer was meant to go over what I was already wearing. A breastplate sat on a bench, silvery metal glinting in the faint light afforded by the sun in this narrow space. Right beside it was some form of helmet, kind of like what I saw in the pictures as a child, though while those had a full-frontal covering of metal, this one was some form of mesh. I picked it up experimentally, turning it this way and that in my hands before I found the mechanism to open it. The entire front opened on a hinge so that you could place it down over your head and then close it shut over you.
The other pieces of equipment were some form of metal… boots that look like they go over my shoes, and a pair of metal gloves that look like they would go up to my elbows. I lifted them up, looking them over before placing them aside. Grabbing the breastplate I placed it over myself, it slid down easily, and I tightened the straps at my side, little more than strings, before stepping into the metal boots. They… took a bit more effort, namely, I got them about halfway on before I had to resort to kicking the wall to force the rest of my foot in. Fortunately once in they were snug but workable. The gloves slid on easily over the clothes I was already wearing, just like the rest, and I tucked the helmet underneath my arm and walked outside, clanking like a damn blacksmith’s shop all the while.
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Two things hit me as I stepped back outside, the sun for starters, the contrast between the dark interior of the shack and the bright focused light of the aviary was striking. The second was a saddle, it hit me in the face specifically, and I scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground.
“Get it on your wyvern.” Morrigan said, and I lowered the caught saddle to find her staring at me. Beithir for its part was still laying down on the ground, looking at me curiously. I stared at Beithir a moment, then at the saddle again. The actual seat was near identical to a horse saddle, with the benefit of a piece of leather sticking up a good two feet in the back that I would imagine was made to keep the rider from falling off when the beast decided to go vertical. A pair of stirrups draped around the front and given by the positioning of the straps…
“The straps are made to loop around its wing joints?” I asked.
“They are, you can pull on the reins to give the wyvern an idea of where you want to go. On a breed such as this, the neck is far too narrow to hold a saddle, though larger breeds do allow it.” Morrigan replies.
I turned the awkward thing over in my hand. To my relief, the actual straps were padded on the inside instead of bare leather, which meant that it wouldn’t rub too bad on the beast’s still-raw joints. I still didn’t want to keep this on it very long mind, but for a short amount of time it would be fine. Shrugging, I walked past Morrigan and approached the beast. As I did so it flapped its wings once, then stuck them out to the side. “Eager to saddle are ya?”
“Your wyvern trusts you.” Morrigan said, sounding rather amused.
“Still ain’t sure why, not treated it any different than my coos.” I said, hosting the saddle up and onto its back. Kneeling down to figure out the straps once it was on.
“Taking her away from her former owner did wonders, I would imagine. Do you require help?” Morrigan asks.
I shook my head as I tightened the strap, stepping over the beast’s back to do the other side. “Think I’ve got it figured out. How am I meant to mount it exactly?”
“A gentleman would at least have dinner first.” Morrigan quips, now sounding amused for the first time this morning.
I raised my head and looked towards Morrigan, snapping the strap into place as I did so. Beithir, seeing that I was no longer focusing on it, turned its head as well to stare at Morrigan.
“Just hop onto it, Jock,” Morrigan explained. “If it bucks you then try again.”
I nodded, placed the helmet over my head, then looked over at the wyvern. I grabbed the knob at the front of the saddle, gripping it tightly before I swung myself up and onto it. Beithir yelped as my arse hit the saddle. It lurched up onto its legs, then bucked backwards. I held onto the knob for dear life, my back hitting the back of the saddle as the beast attempted to throw me off. “Calm yerse-”
My words were cut-off as with a mighty flap of its wings Beithir fully lurched back and tossed me off onto the ground. I grunted, but the breastplate actually did its job to absorb most of the impact. I rolled a second after I landed, the same instincts that trained me not to get stepped on by an angry coo kicking in. I then got up into a crouch, only to hear Morrigan laughing.
“It may take several attempts. But a good first effort.”
I glared at her, then idly reached up to readjust the helmet I was wearing. Beithir, for its part, was staring at me, slightly crouched with its wings flared at its side. Its eyes were narrow slits, and its tail was lightly tapping on the ground behind it.
“Aye, playtime is it?” I asked the beast, lightly tapping my fist into my palm. “Like I told ya on the train ya damned beast, yer dealin’ with a Scot!” with that I charged forward, Beithir leaned back, getting its head out of the way as I sprinted past it. A brief heat of flame covered me as I ran by, and I didn’t need to look back to tell that part of the grass was aflame. I didn’t, in fact, look back at all as I grasped the side of the saddle and leaped up and onto the beast. This time I took no chances, slamming my legs tight around its side as I grabbed onto the reins and tugged.
Beithir roared, flame spitting out of its mouth as it bucked underneath me. I didn’t give, my feet sliding into the stirrups as I pulled the reins harder. Beithir bucked and spun in place, trying to get me off of it. Then, with a rush of air, it flapped its wings particularly harshly, and I felt an awful lurch as I realized I was leaving the ground. A shout of fright escaped my lips as the ground suddenly moved away, and I held on for dear life as with another mighty flap of its wings it started rocketing upwards towards the glass ceiling of the aviary.
Beithir let out another roar as we climbed, and I tugged the reins to the right. As I did, the left wing raised and the right one lowered, and the rapid climb turned into a sharp curve that hugged the western wall of the aviary itself. “Calm yerself, Beithir!” I shouted over the roaring beast. “Ah ain’t once hurt ya!”
Beithir’s wings tense, and I nearly lost my grip on the reins as it twists in the air, blood rushing to my head as I found myself suddenly and violently upside down. The only thing keeping me from falling being that my knees were digging into its sides. It righted itself a moment later, turning into a steep dive over the trees. “CALM YERSELF!”
I yanked back on the reins, pulling it back into a climb before a tug to right made it fly past the waterfall. “Now stop ya dumb beast!” I shouted, attempting to pull back instead of up on the reins. Thankfully like a horse it did so, flapping its wings rapidly and coming to a hovering stop over the rocks. I let out a breath, then several more as I felt my heart threaten to pound so hard it would break my ribs. “Nice and calm now are ya?” I asked.
In response Beithir turned its serpent head back to look at me, tongue darting out of its mouth as its yellow-gold eyes focused on me.
“Arthur!” Morrigan called out, and both myself and the wyvern turned to look at her. She is making a snapping motion with her hands, both fists rising and falling at the same time as she mimics holding a rein.
… Alright.
Looking back at Beithir I nodded, then snapped my hands, the reins lightly slapping the wings. The third scream of the day tore from my lips a moment later as Beithir dips its head and took off like a firework, its powerful wings flapping rapidly at its side before it tucked them to the side, turning itself into an arrow as it screamed through the air. I tugged on the reins to curve it to the right around the glass wall, my back slamming into the seat from the sheer speed of its movement.
I could feel the wind on my face as if the helmet wasn’t even slowing it down. With another snap of the reins, the beast repeated the motion, going even faster as I pulled it up into a climb. “AYE, YER ENJOYIN’ FLIGHT AREN’T YA BEITHIR!” I shouted.
I then tugged the reins as far right as I could, making the beast start to roll into a dive towards the ground. A strangled sound tore from my throat as we gained speed, something part mortal terror, and the rest laughter! I pulled up just as we were about to hit the trees to bring it into a glide over them. The sound of breaking branches filled my ears, as did what almost sounded like a happy trill coming from the wyvern’s throat.
This is magical.
This is flight.
This is-
---
With another lurch I emptied the contents of the morning’s breakfast into the bucket, gripping the pail for dear life in an effort not to fall to the ground from lack of balance. My vision swam as the slime and bile filled it, and I felt a sense of palpable relief as the last of my breakfast finally left me. Wiping my mouth with the metal gauntlet I looked up to see Morrigan a fair distance away, standing next to Beithir.
Beithir for its part was watching me as curiously as it always did, while Morrigan was looking distinctly amused.
“So, did you enjoy wyvern riding?” she asked.
“This is the worst I’ve ever felt in my entire life,” I groaned, forcing myself onto unsteady feet. My vision swam briefly. “I’m goin’ again.”