Wyvern Rider (A story in the Ravenglass Universe) - XII

An orphan girl and an orphaned wyvern find shared a destiny...

Weeks passed, and the forest buzzed with the vibrant energy of midsummer.

Irina and Ksenia were deep in the heart of the woods, far from the prying eyes of the village, engrossed in their daily training routine.

Irina couldn’t help but marvel at Nim’s rapid growth. His scales, once soft and delicate, had hardened into a resplendent sapphire armour. His wings, which had seemed so fragile when she first discovered him, now carried him through the skies with ever-increasing confidence.

As Nim soared above the treetops, Irina felt a surge of pride through their bond. The connection between them had grown stronger with each passing day, a constant exchange of emotions and sensations that flowed between their minds.

“He’s progressing remarkably well,” Ksenia said, her eyes tracking Nim’s graceful aerial manoeuvres. “His form is nearly perfect.”

Nim folded his wings and dove towards the forest floor, vanishing into the foliage. Moments later, he emerged clutching a limp hare in his talons.

Nim landed in the clearing, depositing his catch at Irina’s feet. He looked up at her, his eyes glinting.

Irina ran her hand along Nim’s neck, sending a pulse of affection through their bond. “You’re becoming quite the hunter, Nim. Well done.”

Ksenia smiled. “He’ll be ready soon, Irina. Ready to carry you into the skies.”

Flying with Nim, seeing the world through his eyes, untethered by the bounds of the earth…it was a dream. Yet the reality of it, the idea of leaving the safety of the ground behind, filled her with a mixture of exhilaration and trepidation.

Nim nuzzled her hand, sending a wave of reassurance and courage flowing into her mind.

But before Irina could dwell on the prospect further, a piercing screech cut through the air.

Nim’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing to slits. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he scanned the sky for the source of the noise.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Ksenia’s expression turned grave. “A feral wyvern. And it sounds hostile.”

A dark shape burst from the treeline, its wings flared, its talons outstretched. It was larger than Nim, its scales a mottled green and brown that blended with the forest canopy.

Nim leaped forward, placing himself between Irina and the attacker. He spread his wings in challenge, his teeth bared in a snarl.

The wild wyvern circled above them, screeching, its eyes fixed on Nim.

“It sees Nim as a threat,” Ksenia said. “It’s trying to assert its dominance.”

The feral wyvern dove, its talons slashing at Nim’s face.

Nim met the attack head-on, and the two beasts became a whirling mass of scales, wings, and claws, their battle carrying them across the clearing.

Irina cried out, fear spiking through her as she felt Nim’s pain through their bond.

The wild wyvern’s claws had found their mark, tearing at Nim’s scales, drawing blood.

“You must help him, Irina. Use your bond. Send him strength, fortitude. Let him draw on your resolve. Don’t bow to fear.”

Irina closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind. She could feel Nim’s consciousness, a bright beacon amidst the chaos of battle.

Pouring all her love, all her faith, all her indomitable belief into their bond, she sent wave after wave of courage and determination cascading into Nim’s mind.

Nim’s presence surged in response, drawing strength from Irina’s unwavering support. His resolve hardened. He would not yield, would not allow this intruder to threaten his bonded partner.

But despite Nim’s efforts, it was clear he was outmatched.

The other wyvern was larger, more experienced, its attacks coming with a savagery no doubt born of countless battles for survival.

Nim’s movements began to slow, his counterattacks becoming more laboured.

Irina’s heart clenched with each blow he sustained, each pained screech that echoed through the forest.

Closing her eyes once more, she reached out with her thoughts, not to Nim, but to the network of consciousness that Ksenia had called the mind-web. She searched for a specific presence, a mind she had touched once before in the mountain caves.

The dominant female. The queen of the local wyvern colony.

Irina called out to her, sending images of Nim, of his bravery, of his plight. She poured all her desperation, all her pleading, into that mental cry for aid.

But there came no response.

The battle raged on, Nim’s strength waning with each passing second.

Then, Irina felt an answer. A surge of recognition, of understanding, of primal fury.

A piercing cry split the air, a sound that seemed to shake the very trees.

The wild wyvern faltered, its eyes wide.

A dark shape hurtled from the sky, slamming into the attacker.

The queen had arrived, her scales a shimmering amethyst, her eyes blazing.

The tide of battle turned in an instant.

The queen drove the wild wyvern back, her claws and teeth finding their mark again and again.

Nim rallied, buoyed by her presence.

Together, they pressed the attack, forcing the intruder into a desperate retreat.

With a final screech, the feral wyvern broke away, fleeing into the sky. The queen gave chase, her wings pounding the air, her roar echoing through the forest.

Irina sagged with relief, her knees weak. They had won. Nim was safe.

But the sound of baying hounds and shouting voices shattered the momentary calm.

Ksenia paled. “Hunters. They must have been drawn by the noise.”

They had to flee, had to get Nim to safety.

The hunters burst into the clearing, their bows drawn.

Nim snarled, placing himself once more between Irina and danger. But he was wounded, exhausted from his battle. He could not hope to outfight a band of armed men.

“Run, Irina!” Ksenia shouted, placing herself in front of the hunters, her arms spread wide. “Take Nim and go, now!”

Turning on her heels, Irina sprinted into the forest, Nim close behind.

Arrows whistled past them, biting into tree trunks, and kicking up puffs of dirt at their feet.

They ran, their bond a whirlwind of fear and desperation.

Branches whipped at Irina’s face, roots threatening to twist her ankles. But she didn’t slow.

Horns blared, the hunters’ shouts mingling with the baying hounds.

Irina lost sight of Ksenia. A pang of fear shot through her. Had the older woman been overtaken? Captured? Killed?

But there was no time to dwell on such thoughts. The hunters were closing in, their footsteps thundering through the underbrush.

Irina’s lungs burned, her legs screamed for respite. But she pushed on, driven by the knowledge that to stop was to die.

Her foot caught on a gnarled root, sending her sprawling to the forest floor. She cried out, pain lancing through her ankle.

Nim skidded to a stop, whining with concern. He nosed at her, urging her to rise.

But Irina couldn’t. Her ankle refused to support her weight, the pain blinding in its intensity.

The hunters’ voices grew louder, their shadows flickering through the trees.

It was over.

Nim nudged Irina again, more insistent. He crouched, his neck extended, his wings lowered to the ground.

Understanding dawned through the haze of pain and roiling emotion. Nim wanted her to climb on, to fly with him.

Irina hesitated, a fresh wave of terror washing over her. She had never left the ground before.

What if she fell?

What if she couldn’t hold on?

But the alternative was certain death, or worse.

“No!” She dragged herself to her feet, biting back a scream as her weight fell on her injured ankle.

With a final, desperate surge of effort, Irina threw herself onto Nim’s back, tangling her fingers in his scales, clinging to him with all her strength. “Go!”

With a roar, Nim surged upward, his wings beating the air.

Irina clung to him, her face pressed against his neck.

Nim’s muscles bunched and strained beneath her as he fought for altitude.

The rush of wind tore at her hair, stung her eyes. But she didn’t dare let go, didn’t dare look down.

Arrows whizzed past, one grazing Irina’s arm, drawing a line of searing pain across her skin.

She gritted her teeth, holding on tighter, willing Nim to fly faster, higher.

And then, with a sudden lurch, Nim broke through the canopy and into the vast expanse of the open sky.

The forest stretched out in all directions, an endless sea of green, the mountains rising in the distance.

And the sky…the sky was a boundless dome of perfect blue, the sun a golden orb that seemed close enough to touch.

Despite the terror still coursing through her veins, despite the pain of her wounds, Irina laughed.

She had taken to the sky.

She was flying.

Nim’s presence in her mind was a bright beacon of triumph and joy, his fierce satisfaction mirroring her own.

Together, they soared over the treetops, Nim’s wings beating a steady rhythm, carrying them higher with each passing moment.

They left the sounds of pursuit far behind, the hunters’ shouts fading to distant echoes, then to silence.

Nim banked, turning towards the mountains, following some instinct Irina couldn’t name. She trusted him, letting him guide them, losing herself in the wonder of flight.

But when the initial rush faded, Irina noticed her arm aching where the arrow had grazed it, her ankle throbbing with each shift of her weight. Her muscles screamed from the strain of clinging to Nim’s back, her fingers cramping from their white-knuckled grip.

And her mind was a tempest of conflicting emotions. Exhilaration and terror, joy and despair, all swirling together in a dizzying maelstrom.

The hunters had seen her with Nim, had seen her bond with him.

They would come for her, for her family.

Her life in the village, her dreams of a simple future—shattered in the span of a few heartbeats.

As Nim landed on a rocky ledge outside the wyvern caves, Irina slid from his back, her legs giving way beneath her.

She sank to the ground, her breath coming in ragged gasps, tears stinging her eyes.

Nim curled around her, his warmth a steadying presence. He nuzzled her, crooning softly, flooding their bond with love and reassurance. “Irina. Safe.”

She froze, her eyes widening.

Had she just heard…?

No, it couldn’t be.

“Irina. Nim. Together.”

Irina turned, her gaze locking with Nim’s. “Did you just…talk?”

Nim trilled. “Talk…hard. But…try. For Irina.”

Nim was speaking. Actually forming words.

She reached out, running her hand along his scales. “I can’t believe it. You can talk.”

Nim leaned into her touch, his thoughts flowing into hers.

She began to check him over, running her hands along his flanks, his wings, searching for injuries. To her relief, she found only superficial cuts and scrapes, nothing that wouldn’t heal with time and care.

A sudden rush of air announced the return of the wyvern queen. She landed on the ledge.

Irina stood, ignoring the twinge of her injured ankle. She faced the queen, pouring all her gratitude, all her respect, into her words and thoughts. “Thank you. Without you, we would have been lost.”

The queen regarded her,. Then, with a soft hoot, she turned to Nim.

Nim approached her, his head lowered. The queen bent, her tongue rasping over Nim’s scales, cleaning his wounds.

Nim responded in kind, grooming the queen with gentle nibbles, tending to her scrapes and scratches.

Irina watched. This was more than just a moment of mutual care. It was a bonding, a strengthening of ties between the young wyvern and his protector.

Irina gently unlatched her bond with Nim, giving him the privacy of his own thoughts.

She limped to the edge of the ledge, looking out over the forest that had been her home for all her life. Somewhere out there, Ksenia was hiding, hopefully safe from the hunters’ grasp.

She tested her ankle, pleased to find that it supported her weight, albeit with a stabbing pain. Her arm throbbed where the arrow had grazed it, but a quick examination showed it to be a shallow cut, nothing that would hinder her.

But these physical pains were nothing compared to the turmoil in her mind. The hunters knew about her now, about her bond with Nim. They would not rest until they had their prize.

How could she keep Nim safe, and her village too? The dangers seemed insurmountable, the threats coming from all sides.

She took a deep breath, forcing calm into her racing thoughts. Ksenia would know what to do.

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