Chapter Forty-Five

First Flight

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Months ago, Inerys would have thought this was all insane.

She stood beside Rhydian atop Ephaxus’ shoulder, doing her best to keep her hands from shaking as she listened to his instruction.

“You’ll want to check the cinches each time you mount the saddle,” he said, gesturing along one of the straps, “the leather is strong, but is still subject to wear. It’s good practice to make a habit of inspecting it visually and by hand.”

Nodding, she examined the larger, boney platescales he’d pointed out along the wyvern’s back. A heavy metal ring appeared to have been fused to the edge of each of those between his shoulder blades, providing a sort of permanent anchor point for the saddle mounts. There were three such rings on either side where the saddle could be safely secured without disrupting movement. The saddle itself was more flexible than she’d expected and was able to bend and flex with Ephaxus' spine as needed. It was rather ingenious, really.

It bore more padding than Rhydian’s and was complete with belts and what may have been a harness of some sort for the rider. Ridiculous as it all looked, the presence of them helped steady her nerves. She trusted Ephaxus, but there was a certain intimidation to flying she had yet to overcome. She’d only flown twice, after all. Well, technically three times if she counted that first time with Ayduin while she’d been unconscious, but those had always been in the company of someone else. Of someone far more experienced. This time, she would be on her own.

Peace, little viper. I will not let you fall.

It’s not you I’m worried about, she admitted, It’s my spirit-forsaken hands.

The strength of your grip will come in time. Until then, you have straps to aid you as you learn how to ride properly.

She eyed the rigging along the seat, the leather supple and faded with age in places, but sturdy and well-oiled. In many ways, it reminded her of Milo’s saddle; old and plain, but invaluable in its purpose. This one was far more complicated than what she was used to, but she could learn. She could adapt.

At least I’m not expected to leap up and hold on for dear life with nothing at all.

Flying bareback is nigh on impossible for even the best of riders, he said with an audible snort, We are children of the sky, not some common horse.

Well, unfortunately for us, they’re all I’m used to. Please don’t make me regret this?

Fear not, I will make a sky spirit of you yet, viper.

Provided I actually survive this.

“Ready?” Rhydian asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” she said.

He patted one of the larger plates along Ephaxus’ shoulder.

“Step up here. It should give you enough of a boost to reach the lower aidstrap,” he said, gesturing to a loop of braided leather dangling along the side of the saddle, “you can use his spikes and plate ridges too, if you prefer.”

“I didn’t realize I’d be climbing a rockface,” she muttered under her breath, gripping scale and aidstrap both as she hoisted herself up into the saddle.

It was built in such a way that she was more or less straddling the raised seat. Her legs rested comfortably within the padded grooves on either side, but she also noticed a pair of folded, bar-like stirrups that could be flipped out into place. The gently curving metal bars appeared wide enough to balance comfortably on the balls of her feet with leather straps present to hold her toes in place, should she choose to crouch rather than sit.

“Ignore these for the time being,” Rhydian said, “For now, we’ll just have you sit. It’s more comfortable during the first few flights, anyway. You’ll want to hold the main grip here with both hands, especially during launch.”

She ran her hand along the leather–wrapped bar fixed to the front of the saddle.

“All right.”

“You’ll want these too,” he said, offering her a curious set of leatherbound spectacles.

“What are they?” She asked, weighing them in a hand.

“Flight goggles. Seeing as how you haven’t developed a nictitating membrane like the rest of us, you’ll need them. They’ll stay on far better than your other spectacles.”

“I’ll try to remember that during my next advancement,” she said, lips quirked as she put them on and adjusted the strap behind her head.

They created an airtight seal along her brow and cheeks, resulting in an odd sensation she wasn’t particularly fond of. It was like the goggles themselves were trying to suck out her eyes. Grimacing, she toyed with how they fit until the pressure eased.

“They take some getting used to,” Rhydian said with an apologetic smile.

“That’s a bit of an understatement.”

He looked her over, “Are they snug?”

“Quite.”

“Good. Now, the first flight is always the hardest, especially for those who have never really flown or practiced on dummy rigs. Stay calm and trust your bondmate, he’ll take good care of you.”

She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat and nodded, “I will.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said with a wink and a roguish smile.

He walked her through how to affix the various safety belts and straps, patiently undoing and redoing certain buckles or knots when she asked to see them again. In the event something went wrong, she wanted to know how everything worked. Certain aspects of the rig were redundant, but accounted for various flight positions and how to accommodate them during the learning process. She had assumed flying was fairly straight forward until it was actually broken down for her. The reality of it all was far more nuanced. Perhaps even a touch complicated, if she were honest.

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“There,” he said, testing the last of the straps, “You’re set.”

A certain thrill rushed up from within and she drew a deep breath.

You’re certain you want to follow through on this? She asked.

They’d discussed their bond at length the night prior and mutually agreed to take this step, but now the moment was finally here, her uncertainty returned.

Ephaxus craned his long neck, head angling to meet her eye.

My heart is set, Inerys.

Warmth swelled in her chest, echoing the peace and strength she found in that shared space between their souls. With one look, he had steeled her resolve and set all doubts to rest. She realized then, there was no going back for either of them. He was hers and she, in turn, was his.

So is mine, she said.

His feral smile mirrored her own in all its fanged glory.

“Good luck,” Rhydian said, grey eyes bright.

He hopped to the ground with a practiced ease she one day hoped to emulate.

“See you in the clouds!” Cydan called.

With what could only be described as a laugh, Inet reared into the sky.

Ephaxus stood from his belly in anticipation, the rosy membranes of his wings rustling as he tracked their ascent. Inerys braced herself as she felt his weight shift. He set back on his hind legs, raised his wings and took to the sky with a single powerful thrust.

The force of it pressed her deeper into her seat. Her jaw ached in protest, body feeling as though it were little more than a lead weight as they climbed higher and higher still. Beneath the rush of excitement and adrenaline, though, something else began to build.

A pure note rose not in her ears, but within the deep, formless space she shared with Ephaxus. One by one, her cores began to oscillate until the whole of her soul felt as though it had been struck by a tuning fork. It built in heat and strength until it matched the resonance of that strange new tone and when it did, their bond flared to life with a bright, unifying fire.

Inerys gasped as her senses merged with those of Ephaxus. They aligned, expanded, leaving all the world foreign and new around her. Around them, she realized, for in those moments, they had become one in the same. The vital essence in their respective bodies sputtered and stalled as their flow sought to synchronize. Their hearts bucked as they too fought to harmonize and when they finally did, the dyad knew they were falling.

The world around them spun as they tumbled in the air, the sea of stars above giving way to forest, then their reflection in the lake and over again. With each turn, the ground grew that much closer. They hissed and with united thought, pulled out of their death spiral. Their wings snapped open and sailed with the updraft, carrying them up and away from the lake below with little room to spare.

Water whooshed and sprayed as it was whipped up in their wake, but did not drag them into the waves as it might have otherwise. They surged over the treeline beyond the shore, canopy thrashing. Each beat of their wings carried them back toward the belly of the sparse clouds and as they at last leveled off, they roared their triumph into the night.

Far beneath them, three voices sang as one as they rose in answer. There were others as well, whoops and hollers, though they were nearly lost to the pitch and clarity of the wyverns. Pride welled within the dyad, radiating through the bond and bit by bit, relief drew each member back to their own senses.

Inerys sucked in a breath, limbs trembling as her mind returned to her own body. The warmth of their bond emanated from everywhere, yet nowhere all at once. Spirits, she felt him. She had been able to sense his thoughts and emotions before, but now, it was almost as if they were her own, in much the same way those of the blood memories were. Only now, those experiences were shared with another, existing along a two-way path with little, save a thin curtain of self, between them.

Her friends had briefed her on what to expect, but no amount of forehand knowledge could have ever prepared her for something like this.

She leaned forward in the saddle, resting her head against her arms. They’d done it. And they had survived.

Did you have any doubt? Ephaxus asked, amused.

Maybe a little, she admitted, smiling against her sleeve, I must say, the first flight being difficult, is a bit of an understatement. My heart is still in my throat after that plunge.

Such will not happen again, he assured.

I’ll hold you to that.

Now she understood why the others had cautioned her against ingesting anything prior to their flight. It wouldn’t have survived. Nor would her dignity, had she spilled her guts across her poor bondmate’s back.

He angled into a gentle bank, affording her an unparalleled view of the world below. From this height, the lake and its tributaries shone silver under the moon, weaving between carpeted hills and distant mountains. She’d never known the world to be so vast. Even in her errant imaginings during her hunts, she’d assumed there would be another end, some boundary she couldn’t cross. Her world had been so small, so dim.

And yet some foolish part of her still wanted to return even now, to do nothing more than fly home with all speed. She wouldn’t have to worry about traversing the dangers of the deepwoods from the sky. Perhaps she could even arrive before sunrise and spirit her family away before anyone was the wiser.

She couldn’t, though.

Fate had seen fit to drag her somewhere else.

The wound will never close, Ephaxus murmured, But it will fade.

A part of me still hopes I can go back one day, once this is all over.

If this would ever truly be over.

With the future uncertain as it was, she feared to cling to even a foolish hope.

Perhaps you will. Hope is not such a foolish thing, viper. Hold to it.

I’ll try, she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

The truth was, she had more than just Nan and Soren and Alaric in her heart now. The others had found their way in too, frightening and alien as they had once been. There was no untangling herself from Ephaxus either, not that she would ever want to. The thought alone drew an echo of pain she hoped she’d never feel in full.

He rumbled beneath her, his presence anchoring her amid a sea of uncertainty.

Whatever comes, we will face it together, he said.

She reached a hand beyond the saddle in order to touch her hand to his back.

Together, she promised, admiring the way the amber light of their campfire contrasted the world around it.

It called to her like a beacon in the night, promising warmth and friendship and good food. That stupid little fire had been at the center of her life for months. In a way, it was home. Trading it for some grand city was nearly unthinkable.

The rustle of wings drew her back to the present, though. Inet drifted in close, Cydan throwing both fists into the air upon her back.

“Allow me to be the first to congratulate you!” He called.

Inerys laughed, “Thank you!”

“How are you feeling?”

“A bit overwhelmed, but good. You could have warned me about the fall!”

“And spoil the fun? Never.”

Inet snickered and pulled up to tease Ephaxus’ left wing with her talons.

It is good to see you whole again, my friend.

Ephaxus rolled and playfully swatted at her with his tail. Inerys had been prepared for the move, thanks to how easily their thoughts melded with one another, though she had not expected the reply that followed.

Whole and eager for a race.