Dream of Legends (102 page)

Opening his eyes, he was relieved that all he could see ahead of him was Ulfcytel, and the cloud-draped skies above. He craned his neck back, and kept his eyes fixed forward. He knew the ground was falling away behind him, and he did everything that he could to resist the temptation to turn his head and look.

The steed climbed higher and higher. Wulfstan was not worried about determining where they were, as he placed his full trust in Ulfcytel. He tried to concentrate on the rhythmic, powerful beats of the Himmeros’ wings, feeling the exceptional power of the steed just underneath him.

Even though he had been airborne for only a handful of moments, he completely understood why the sky riders had always been said to be insatiably loyal, and virtually inseparable, from their steeds. Wulfstan’s life was now in a very fragile state, completely held in the dominion of his steed. If anything amiss happened to the steed, he would be rendered entirely helpless. He had never experienced such an extreme dependency before, save for his infancy in the hands of his parents.

Quickly, he repressed the daunting thoughts, and grasped anxiously at lighter things to occupy his mind. The effort was largely futile, as his rattled nerves forced any comforting notions to vanish. Though the final verdict was not yet determined on his own accord, he knew that he could never cast aspersions on anyone that found flight to be something to avoid.

The climbing sensation seemed to go on forever. The unsettled feeling in his stomach persisted, and a faint dizziness continued to shroud him.

Wulfstan had begun to wonder if it would ever end, when he finally noticed Ulfcytel’s steed level out, and break out of its sharp climb. Wulfstan clenched the reins and pressed his heels against the sides of his steed, as he closed in on the altitude that Ulfcytel was maintaining.

Using the instructions that Ulfcytel had given him, he successfully guided Spirit Wing into evening out its course of flight. The steed glided forward, drifting gracefully on the air currents, and the taut pressure eased from Wulfstan’s back as he was brought into a vertical, sitting position. Wary to keep his eyes away from the ground so far below, he riveted his gaze onto the back of Ulfcytel’s dark tunic.

After a moment, he closed his eyes, feeling the crisp winds flowing across his face. Eventually, he knew that he would have to face the stark realities of flight, as Ulfcytel would not be with him for his mission, or his eventual return. It was also ludicrous to think that he could find his way back to the Saxan encampment without looking out over the ground.

Slowly, calling upon his willpower, he forced his eyes to open, lowering his gaze slightly from Ulfcytel’s back. He turned his head so that the sky rider was no longer in his field of vision. The light of day flooded into his eyes, bringing along with it a host of new, amazing sights. It was a perspective like none other that he had ever experienced before.

It was like the entire world had opened up around him. He had never thought such a wondrous sight could be experienced, as he looked out over endless leagues of hills, forests, streams, and plains, spreading in all directions.

The view far transcended everything that he had ever seen before, even from the summit of the highest hill or mountain that he had climbed in the past. Almost forgetting to breathe, he chanced a glance directly downward.

His breath caught in his lungs. Everything below him was displayed in extreme miniature, even the large, forested hills that took so long to skirt when traveling on the ground. It was a stunning, wholly unprecedented way of looking upon the world, and Wulfstan felt a little envy underneath his fears. The sky riders were certainly afforded a tremendously astounding experience, each and every time that they took their steeds into the skies.

“To the right,” Ulfcytel shouted from up ahead of him, bringing Wulfstan’s attention back into focus.

Wulfstan guided Spirit Wing in a curving turn to the right, straightening out again just behind Ulfcytel. The sky rider gestured for Wulfstan to come up to him, and slowed his steed down long enough to let Wulfstan’s pull up alongside.

“Different from what you have been used to, is it not?” Ulfcytel inquired, in a raised voice that cut through the air blowing over his body.

“Incredible,” Wulfstan replied, his eyes wide with the thrill of it.

“Look down, to the right,” Ulfcytel suggested.

Wulfstan turned his head and looked. The battle was sprawled out across the land, in the distance. The two armies appeared like two vast shadows on the undulating plain.

“It looks like we have held!” exclaimed Ulfcytel, his words echoing with spirited fervor at the pronouncement.

Peering more attentively, Wulfstan could ascertain that the farther, and much larger, of the great shadows, which he knew at once was the invading army, was slowly crawling back, away from the other shadow. There was only one conclusion to draw from the sight.

The enemy was retreating from the battlefield, en masse. It meant that the day’s fighting was likely over, and it was apparent that the Saxan lines still held on the battlefield.

From the great heights he could see the locations of the enemy encampments off in the distance, a monstrosity of tents that was significantly larger than the square-shaped encampment on their own side.

“Whatever task you are on, do not stray too close to the enemy,” Ulfcytel admonished Wulfstan sternly “You would be no match for a Trogen warrior upon a Harrak, and there are a great number of both that way.”

“I will not be going that way, not at all,” Wulfstan replied.

A kind smile came to Ulfcytel’s face. “May your flight be true, Wulfstan, and may you find the help that you are looking for. We will have to part ways now, as I must keep some eyes on those dark storm clouds far below.”

Ulfcytel cast a glance downward, in the direction of the shadowy masses marking the position of the enemy invaders.

“Ulfcytel, thank you for trusting in me, a man that you have not known before,” Wulfstan said, in all sincerity and gratitude.

“I have been a good judge of men throughout my life, and I see no reason why my senses should begin failing me now,” Ulfcytel replied. His gaze then became a little narrower, as his voice evened out. “Do not disappoint me in this.”

“If this task comes to success, then know that you have been a great part of it,” Wulfstan stated. “Without you, I could not take this path.”

“It is simply good to see such courage in one man,” Ulfcytel said. “That I will not impede. Fly to success in your quest!”

Raising his right hand to bid him well, Ulfcytel guided his steed sharply off to the left, leaving Wulfstan by himself. After just a few moments, Wulfstan felt isolated. There was little else but the sounds of the steed’s flapping wings, and the winds whipping brusquely about his ears.

Banking his own steed off to the left, Wulfstan was careful to put some more distance between himself and the battlefield. His mission was reckless enough, and he did not need to endanger it further by being needlessly careless.

He took Ulfcytel’s words to heart regarding the dangers of encountering enemy sky riders. If he was caught out in the open sky by trained, veteran sky warriors, especially by the powerful brutes whose kind had nearly killed him in the attack on the Saxan encampment, then he was as good as dead.

Wulfstan craned his neck all around, scanning the upper skies for the unique, white patch he had sighted from the ground. He espied it rather quickly, set against the blue sky with nothing to obstruct his view of it. Fortuitously, he saw that it was located up and even farther to the left of him, situated well away from the battle lines. Seeing it from the higher altitude, the patch looked much larger in size.

Even so, he could tell that it was still a very long distance away. Steadying his nerves, and letting out another extended, relaxing exhalation, Wulfstan said one more silent prayer to the Almighty. He then guided Spirit Wing to the left, angling up into another steep incline. The heavy, pulling sensation returned to his back, and again he braced his feet more forcefully in the stirrups.

He kept his eyes fixed on the white patch as he soared into the upper skies on the back of the winged steed, wrestling with the numerous feelings sweeping through him. The enemy was now of little concern. Wulfstan’s assessment of the skies, and his own proximity to the battle lines prior to the ascension, had shown that the enemy forces were far away. Furthermore, they had probably suffered a high enough cost in the day’s fighting, such that they would not be inclined to follow a lone rider well behind the Saxan lines; and certainly not one who was recklessly striving for the uppermost heights.

The dizzying flight continued to pull him farther and farther away from the battlefield and encampments. His head was rigidly set forward, steadfastly refusing to look below, as he set all of his thoughts upon his intended destination. He was not about to turn back, and there was little sense in courting more fears that would only serve to distract or disrupt.

Wulfstan clenched the reins even tighter, as he decided to lean forward and tuck his head in closer to the neck of the beast. It was as if he subconsciously wanted to fuse himself into the creature, and acquire the inner security that would come with being a living part of a beast with wings. He was painfully conscious of the reality that his own natural form did not possess the necessary tools for flight.

A layer of clouds was drifting into sight, directly ahead of him, now crossing his path. From below, it looked to have a rather flat-bottomed underside, like a great, stretched cloak, bearing along with it some accumulations of a kind of puffy, light-gray effluvium. In some ways, it resembled the thick fogs that cloaked the hills and valleys of his homeland in the ambience of a cool, misty morning.

Wulfstan kept himself steeled, as the Himmeros continued to rapidly ascend, gaining increasing height until the misty wisps of the first cloud layer caressed and wrapped around both man and Himmeros alike. Wulfstan and Spirit Wing then plunged into the heart of the cool vapors. His world became an impenetrable mass of light gray, until he abruptly burst forth into the embrace of sunlight once again.

While looking very flat on the bottom, the cloud mass held a spectrum of varying contours on the other side. In many places, the formations stretched upward, towering above him like great hills, while other areas of the cloud mass were comprised of lower, undulating textures, such as the particular location where he had passed through the vaporous substance.

It was an amazing vista to behold, and his eyes were mesmerized for several moments as he looked out over the rolling, cloud-landscape. Obstructing his view of the land far below, the sight also brought a bit of comfort to his raw, rattled nerves.

Inspired by his passage above the first cloud layer, Wulfstan focused his resolve to an even greater degree, as he looked up towards the white patch beckoning to him from farther above. Eager to traverse the remaining distance to it, he spurred the Himmeros onward.

“Spirit Wing, reach that pure white cloud, the one you see far ahead,” Wulfstan urged the steed in a loud voice.

He knew that while the beast might not understand his words, it might sense his intentions in some subtle way, and perhaps derive some impetus from them. Animals often appeared to possess a sixth sense, and Wulfstan was not about to underestimate the perceptiveness of such an incredible creature as Spirit Wing.

It took a short while for them to reach the next level of clouds, and Wulfstan nearly avoided having to pass through them. They were prominent, puffy masses, scattered all about the high altitude, as if amorphous blotches of white had been woven randomly into an aqua tapestry. The bodies of the towering, vaporous formations were much more vertical than horizontal, and were separated by wide swathes of unsullied, blue-green sky.

Wulfstan saw the unique white patch marking his destination looming ever larger ahead of him, but his angle of approach ended up taking him through one of the dispersed, bulging masses of vapor. The passage through the towering expanse took a little longer than going through the lower mass had. Wulfstan and his steed broke out into the open again, just short of the uppermost reaches of the soaring cloud mass.

As they continued to climb upward, he began to notice some disturbing changes occurring within his immediate environment. The cooling of the air about him had not been bothersome before, but an icy, discomfiting chill had begun to take root.

They were approaching a broad, third layer of clouds. The layer ahead was already in a position to intersect with their path, as its vanguard blotted out Wulfstan’s view of his snow-white objective. During the same period, his breathing began to become much more labored, and his heart rate sharply increased.

Unease drifted to the forefront of his mind, and he refocused the force of his thoughts towards the oncoming layer of clouds. The third layer looked to be more of a long, linear array of billowing white clouds. As the clouds themselves were an incredible phenomenon to experience, and he needed something to concentrate on, Wulfstan determined to observe them a little closer, as he passed through their midst.