A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,44
slung the pack over his back, and glared at her.
"I'm ready," he said. "Are you ready? To shut your mouth, that is?"
"Very clever, Bayrin." She nodded at his sword. "Why take a blade? Surely you could slay an enemy without it; they'll groan to death at your jokes."
She hefted her own pack, which hung across her back. Bayrin grumbled. He couldn't help but notice how the pack's straps pulled her silk robes taut, exposing her curves, or how her lips twisted as she smiled. A memory pounded through him: Piri four years ago, sneaking into his chamber and doffing her cloak to stand nude before him. They had made love three times that sweaty summer night.
With a grunt, Bayrin shoved the memory aside.
It's Mori I love, he thought, and sadness flowed over his memories of Piri's kisses. Mori—pure and beautiful, the love of his life. Stars, Mori, I won't forget you, not now, not ever. I will find you, and when I do, I'll never let you go again.
Eyes stinging, he shifted into a green dragon. He kicked off the earth, crashed through branches, and soared into the sky. He began flying west and shouted over his shoulder.
"If you want to fly with me, Piri, you better fly fast. I wait for no one."
The trees shook as she soared, a lavender dragon with silver horns. Her body was long and slim, her scales were bright, and fire flicked between her teeth. She flew like an arrow. Bayrin cursed, turned his gaze back west, and flapped his wings mightily.
He'd always been a fast dragon—not as fast as Mori, perhaps, but close. He flew now with every last bit of strength, determined to lose Piri over the wilderness. The forests streamed below him, an endless sea of red and gold. Mountain peaks rose ahead, white against the sky and cloaked in clouds. Bayrin dived between them on the wind, the scents of autumn in his nostrils. He flew toward a valley and streamed over a lake. His reflection raced across the water; the reflection of a lavender dragon raced there too.
Bayrin looked over his shoulder to see Piri close behind. Blasts of smoke rose from her nostrils. She snarled at him and beat her wings mightily.
"Bloody stars!" he cursed, turned his head back west, and flew with new vigor.
For a healer, she's damn fast.
"You can't escape me, Bayrin!" she cried behind him. "I'm just as fast."
She had the speed; Bayrin had to admit that. But did she have the endurance? He snarled and flew faster than he'd ever flown. The lake ended and forests of oaks and maples rolled below him. He flew until his wings ached, and his lungs felt ready to collapse, yet whenever he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Piri mere feet behind him. She panted, and her eyes were narrowed to slits, but she kept flying.
How many leagues did he fly? Bayrin couldn't tell; dozens perhaps. His body ached. He remembered flying across the northern sea with Mori, seeking the Crescent Isle, and the memory stung his eyes.
I wish you were flying here with me, Mori. We will fly together again. I promise you.
The sun began to set, and still the blasted lavender dragon flew behind him. Bayrin wanted to keep flying, but smoke rose thickly from his maw, and he was weary, so weary he wanted nothing more than to crash down and fall asleep.
Bloody stars, I'll lose the damn girl tomorrow, he thought and began to dive down. He spotted a clearing between trees where grass grew along a stream. He spiraled down, landed upon the grass, and shifted into human form. It was cold—damn cold—but still sweat drenched him. He knelt by the stream and drank deeply.
Piri landed by him, claws digging into the grass, and shifted too. She panted, and sweat dampened her hair and robes. She too approached the stream, knelt so close by him that their bodies touched, and also drank. She glanced at him, mouth dripping, and flashed a grin.
"Good flight." She reached up and tousled his hair.
He turned aside with a grunt, trudged away from the stream, and lay upon the grass. He was too weary to eat supper, and besides, eating meant having to stay awake around Piri. He turned his back toward her, placed his head upon his pack, and pulled his cloak over him as a blanket. He paused long enough only to kick off his boots, then closed his eyes.