Copyright © 2007 Debbie Mumford
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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The clear-skied summer day enticed them as they left the castle grounds and rode toward the distant forest. Aislinn adjusted to Copper’s rocking gait and gloried in the fresh scents of new mown hay, freshly turned earth, and pungent, sweet peat fires.
The breeze blew across her face and cajoled strands of hair from their restraining braid. Again, she appreciated her mother’s choice of trousers for this outing. She couldn’t imagine maintaining her place in the saddle with skirts hindering her efforts. If she had to wear clothes, she found the close fitting pants more to her liking. The other ladies in the party managed horses and garments with no difficulty, but their oddly positioned saddles struck Aislinn as highly precarious.
The hunting party cleared the area around the village and urged their horses to greater speed across the open, unplowed meadow. Following her father’s example, Aislinn leaned low over Copper’s neck and enjoyed the heart-pounding ride.
She’d rather be flying, of course, but this mad gallop satisfied her need for velocity quite nicely. When they neared the edge of the forest, they slowed their pace and stepped into the soft, green gloom with its welcome shade.
King Leofric urged his horse over to Aislinn’s side. “Well done, Lady Aislinn,” he said. “You ride as well as your father said you would.”
“Dragonkind have many talents, sire,” she said, lowering her eyes demurely. “I’m pleased not to be a burden to your party.”
“Not at all. Not at all,” he said, directing their mounts to a forest trail. “Now keep those sharp eyes of yours on the brush ahead. If you see game—deer, elk, wild boar— signal your father or me.” He leaned close to pat her arm and added, “You’re going to do just fine, my dear. Just fine.”
They rode slowly through the dappled light, and Aislinn enjoyed the cool air, the men’s camaraderie, and the horses muffled footfalls. Myriad small animals scurried from their path, and birds sang in the trees. The sweet-sour odor of leaf mold assaulted her nostrils along with the musk of the horses’ sweaty flanks. She absorbed all these sensations and marveled at the difference between the scope of human and dragon senses.
She missed the range of sounds her dragon hearing would have brought her, but found the visual discrimination of her new eye placement quite adequate. Her sense of smell lacked dragon acuity, but considering the closest object was a sweaty horse, she doubted this was a handicap at the moment.
The biggest difference she’d encountered so far involved her sense of touch. Human skin might be delicate compared to dragon scales, but the nuances of feeling she derived from this fragile covering amazed her. Warmth spread through her body at the thought of the exquisite sensations her morning’s explorations had evoked. Yes, this compact and frighteningly fragile form held some surprising benefits.
Ahead, hounds belled. The dogs had scented prey.
Linked with her mare’s thoughts, Aislinn clung to the saddle, huddled low over Copper’s neck, and raced to join the action. They fairly flew through the forest at breakneck speed, Aislinn watching their path through Copper’s eyes.
The mare’s competent sure-footedness soothed Aislinn’s worries, and she switched her concentration to easing her body’s reaction to the jarring pace. An image of her bed and soft down comforter brought tears of mirth to her eyes. Her soft arse would be bruised and aching after this helter-skelter ride.
Abruptly, the hunting party reined in and halted. Aislinn sat up straight, careful not to moan and break the silence. A majestic stag stood in a clearing just beyond the tree line. The hunters had brought their mounts up just inside the trees.
Aislinn caught an air of excitement from the courtiers and sent a querying thought to her father along their dragon link.
It’s a white stag, her father replied, his mind-voice colored with reverent awe. Very rare. Considered an omen, a messenger from the gods.
She hardly dared to breathe—the great horned beast swiveled his head and stared directly at the riders. He knows we’re here, she replied, yet he does not flee.
As I said:a messenger of the gods.
In silence, King Leofric urged his horse toward the snow-white buck. When his mount reached the center of the clearing, Leofric stepped from the saddle and approached the stag on foot.
Aislinn’s heart skipped a beat as the unearthly white animal dipped his crown of antlers and scraped the ground at the king’s booted feet. The stag raised his head, glanced into Leofric’s eyes and delicately sniffed the breeze wafting through the glade. He twisted his head and stared toward the forest, directly into Aislinn’s eyes.
Their gazes locked, and Aislinn’s heart froze—but not her mount. Copper stepped forward and carried Aislinn into the focus of the circle of silent men and women. The mare stopped beside the king’s mount, and Aislinn, following Leofric’s example, dismounted. Without breaking eye-contact, she moved to stand beside the king and genuflected to the white stag.
A demonstration is required, said an assured bass voice in the quiet depth of her mind, a place her dragon link had never touched. Rise and be ready to act.
She straightened, uncertain whose will controlled her body.
Without warning, King Leofric leapt onto the back of the stag and the pair bounded away. Aislinn sprang to Copper’s back and urged the mare to full gallop. The rest of the hunting party cried out in alarm and spurred their mounts after Aislinn and the king.
The air around her rang with shouts from distraught humans, the thunder of hooves, and cracks and snaps of breaking wood as the riders crashed through the underbrush. At last, they broke out onto a windswept crag.
The eerie white stag stood waiting at the edge of a precipice, the king sitting glassy-eyed and submissive on his back. The riders ranged themselves in a wide arc around the beast. Again, Copper carried Aislinn forward to face the stag.
He stared into her eyes, inclined his magnificent head, whirled, jumped from the cliff…and vanished.
The hunters yelled in horror. Leofric hung suspended in mid-air and then plummeted into the ravine.
Aislinn leapt from Copper’s back, raced to the edge and threw herself into the void. She shimmered from human woman to midnight blue dragon and arrowed after the plunging figure. With a mighty swoop of wings, she caught the king in her front claws, rescuing him from impalement on the jagged rocks, and spiraled back into the crystal blue of the summer sky.
Aislinn! Her father’s voice pulled her attention back to the small figures huddled on the precipice. Come back to earth, daughter. Bring the king back to us.
Of course, she answered, stifling a hysterical giggle. I hadn’t planned to eat him, you know.
A smile colored Caedyrn’s reply. Of course not, but both of you have been behaving oddly since the stag first appeared. Please land. The king’s people are uneasy.
With a final flourish of wings, Aislinn settled back to earth, landing on her hind legs to protect Leofric from the impact. She set the king carefully on his feet and prepared to metamorphose to human form. Her father’s mind-voice stopped her.
Wait, Aislinn, he said, pulling the cloak from his shoulders and stepping between the huge blue dragon and the king’s hunting party. He unfurled the cloak and held it high. It shielded Aislinn’s front legs from the courtiers’ view.
“Now, child,” he said aloud, heedless of his dragon-daughter’s sensitive ears. “These good people will turn aside while you transform.” His ferocious gaze demanded their obedience. Even the king angled his back to protect his rescuer’s modesty.
Aislinn closed her eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath. I remember, she assured her father. I must not remove my clothes in the presence of men, and she shimmered into a naked woman and wrapped herself quickly in her father’s upheld cloak.