Wild Ride

TYKE

Iwoke up at two a.m., poured a bit of vodkaria into my coffee, and ran a thumb up my tusk, bloodlust rising as I stared at my silver carbine on the table. Everything felt right. So I took two sips of the hard stuff.

Craaack!

Afar Vadok'n Ur'k! I tell you, I should've dunked the whole bottle. I swear I get haunted whenever I think about it, because when it comes to the worst days of my life, this one is very close to the top. Yeah, it's a twenty-four-hour aggressive little shite. Whether I can make it through, that's up to Magnus...

And to think how fucking trouble I thought I was while swishing caffeine in my mouth this morning...

The heavens are bursting in flames, the darkness impossible for eyes to adjust to, in part strained from the constant flashing. If they do, it's to catch a nano-second of giant, murderous black pinheads. We're weaving between them, a frantic race across wired spears. Sharp streaks of fire rise and fall, the pitch of the light ringing in our ears.

'There's nothing better than your first dragon ride,' I once heard from a cyclops. I didn't know what to think back then, and I still don't. The beast roars, dodging the bolts aggressively, the pull of his sharp turns tearing at my stomach. Our bodies twitch, tense, as if bracing against the surge of a violent torrent. Gritting my teeth, I watch as chunks of gold spew from the black, ripping it to pieces like twisted fork tines. The best I can say about this is that I'll honor the gods if I survive.

Boom!

"Ahh, bitch!" screams Vine. "I want to get off! Now!"

I'm not even going to respond. Vine's been blasting my ears for the past hour, and my immunity to her squealing is wearing thin.

My nerves are shot, and the more I bite my teeth, the closer my tusks are to breaking. I come from a culture where panic has no place amongst orcs, and that's the way I want it to stay—far away. But Magnus is a wringer, squeezing the thought, the feeling, the damn attitude out of me.

"I want to fucking get off!" Vine is clawing at my ribs like a barb, and I suffer silently. It's not like I can ask her to loosen her grip. "Permits are given to ride these beasts for a reason! Should've stayed on the ground!"

"Save your spit. No one wants it!" I cling to Magnus, who's decided to try a loop, fingers hooked under a massive scale, praying fervently that he won't start shedding mid-flight.

Winds at 150 miles per hour, maybe more, batter us. I can barely open my eyes. And yet I'm glad there's rain pelting us; Magnus's horns enkindled. I should feel the sharpness of the wind, but I assure you that isn't the case. Every time he flicks his head, one of his tips pokes about dangerously; it's just too hot for my closed eyes. And he makes me proud because of that. A bloody steed fit for battle and victory.

"Magnus's out of control!"

"He's fine!"

Vine's lips intrude on my ear. "I hope your fairy is worth it! But I doubt it." She adjusts her grip on me, debating my feelings, a huge piece of me wanting to hurl her into the void. "Because nothing is worth my life!"

There's a sudden drop, Magnus sinking to rough air currents.

Blood hits the walls of my veins as the distance between the dragon and me grows, and soon I'm airborne, both our legs hanging in midair. Nothing holds us aside from my three weakening fingers. And these, slowly but surely, are slipping away; my prayers becoming less silent by the second!

"Umpfh!" Magnus bursts up, catching the force of an upstream, and now Vine is pressing so hard against my shoulder that I can feel her teeth.

"No! I'm categoric. She's not worth this!"

"You'd bring me so much joy if you could shut up!"

"Sorry for being honest! Thought I'd give my best! This is my deathbed, after all!" she yells.

I hate her as much as I like her—leaving her little room in my mind, yet... little pest! "I'd give you a nasty look, but you've already got one."

"Nasty? Your skin is green!"

Two forces are at war—and I'm not referring to Vine and me. No, she's a gray sprinkle on a kid's rainbow cake. Quipping's never been something I'm good at. In fact, my stuff stinks, and now I'm throwing anything I've ever come across at her: stale, sarcastic, over said sayings. "Somewhere out there, there's a tree..." I'm unwillingly pushing my lungs against a boulder named Magnus, and he keeps adding pressure as he takes altitude, "working very hard to produce oxygen..."

"So what?!" she puffs against my nape.

"So you can breathe!"

"Uh?"

"I think you should go apologize to it!"

"You wanna know something, captain?"

"No!"

"Well, I'm gonna say it, anyway. Your village called, they want their idiot back!"

I bring a hand over her grip and start pulling her hands off me, one insignificant bony finger at a time. "Listen, Vine! Take my lowest priority and put yourself beneath it!"

"Stop! Okay... Okay, I hear you."

I break contact with her and exhale. Yes, it's that kind of relief. "Watch your tongue; I once was told to stop cutting those off the shit spewers."

My forehead hurts from all this muscle contraction. Vine is one of those people you could knock off a dragon. She wants to get off?! I don't enjoy it, either. I am terrified of heights, and I can never say it enough. I still have a long way to go before I love flying, but he's also my last resort, and I better adapt to this concept quickly. Magnus is kind of a work in progress...

Hours have passed, and the sky has never been more dreamlike, dark purple. The thunder left for a tranquil whisper, the taste of it salty...

Under us, a vast stretch of the same plum color blending with the sky, some swaying twinkles dotting it, suggesting sailing vessels.

We're flying over water. Not sure if Magnus understood what I meant by, "Take us to New Orc," but hopefully, he has more brain cells than Cerberios...

He's taken a gliding motion, lulling Vine enough that she toppled to the side, and soon came a snore. Then another. And another... There's even drool and froth coming from the corner of her mouth. This is the second time I want to push her off, then take a cloth and polish Magnus' beautiful glossy scales. At least it's no longer a screaming match. Almost threatened to gag her with her fist...

Maybe I should do the same. Just a short break. Eyes, bones, my body is an aching, bruised mess. I hiss as I uncurl my spine. I might have underestimated those guys; they punched hard...

With wielded jaws, I sink my head in the static crook between Magnus's wing-shoulder blades and, as I bring my hands behind my neck, try to enjoy the breeze.

The feeling of altitude is sharper than the edge of an ax. It's a blur, thoughts spinning out from most probably oxygen insufficiency. I once asked Fay how watching the world from above felt, thinking it must be quite the view from so far away. I was expecting her to say freedom, but instead, she fluttered her eyelashes at me, stopping my heart like always, and whispered, "I'm a small fae. The sky is too high for me." I looked at her, thinking she needed a pep-talk, but now I see she was only talking about physics. Stupid me told her, "There are no limits to where you can go." My little bug squiggled in chuckles as I seized her. My, what a great day it was...

Above me, pinpricks of silver. Stars, millions of them, resist the fading darkness. An almost imperceptible bow of a new moon catches my eye. Fay must witness such beauty from above; no wonder her spirits drop when she returns to the ground.

A rugged mutter erupts at my feet. "Never had anyone brave a tempest for me..."

Great, recess is over...

"Vine, you should rest."

"Can't. I had a nightmare. I dreamt I was on the back of a dragon, about to get fucking fried! Tsk. Not sure this girl is the right one for you. She's literally making you suicidal. I don't envy you one bit."

I don't even look. Keep my gaze right up.

"Is she rich or something?"

"No."

"Yeah. No, I don't get it."

She stops talking. And I shut my eyes, groaning out bliss. Silence...

"I used to date a guy back in the war. He was broke, and I stayed. Thought he was special, too, you know."

Fuck, please, no...

"I wanted the war to stop; he wanted it to last."

"Let me guess. You left."

"Saved his life. Got him out of the war in a way... When you fight alongside, and then a few times, you witness some of his hits could've been lethal, it kinda changes your perception of things. I had to do something unconventional..."

"Prick."

"Gargoyles, captain. But I guess it's the same thing." She sighs, and I imagine her huffing madly with a bitter smirk. "It's funny because back then, I just wanted him. And he, well... he wanted something for sure, but not me. He'd throw his life on the line, but for a cause, and I understood because it was greater than us... You, on the other hand, have issues, captain."

I rest my eyes on a red wing caught in a veil of sunrise. "Yeah... I'd bleed myself for her."

I press my lips and wince at what my chest just sponged out of me.

"And what would push a sane monster to do that?"

"We should be there soon. I see the coast."

"Captain..."

"You chose the wrong guy to talk about this stuff."

"Sorry to say this, but you fit the bill."

"Why don't you call your cousin to chat about it."

"Is it because she has a distinctive way of touching you? Gives you that dirty look when she?—"

"Vine."

She snorts. "Sad. Another one who's ashamed to open up about matters of the heart. Anyway, I was expecting the soulmate card—it's always the soulmate card. Seems to be the trend these days."

She turns her back on me, clutching her elbows, looking up and blowing through pinched lips, giving me the cold shoulder, no less...

"Thought it was the case. But faefolks have no souls."

She turns a third of her jawline, eyebrow cocked. "Who told you that?"

"My mother. But even if Fay had one, it doesn't matter. She could be tainted with malice; I'd still love her."

"Fae have souls, captain."

"They don't have a mate call."

"What has that got to do with souls?"

Fucking hell... "It's what I was told. End of convo."

"So, if it ain't for her soul, then what?"

I gather my knees and, bracing them, think how lucky I am. Apparently, not everyone gets to experience what I have. A corner of my lip lifts to find my sergeant's expression so bitterly tight. Despite her coyness, it must be a shipwreck of frustration inside her.

I meet her beady stare and hold it. "Basic instincts. She's the essence of my reason, the root of my being, holds my world in her eyes... gives it color with all things bright and warm. Who wouldn't fight to the death to keep that?"

She turns silent, and I want to jump off Magnus. Women are getting to me...

"What's the point of doing all this if you die? It's stupid."

"I ain't dead yet."

"Won't last long."

"Well, if it's the case, bury my spirit in the stars. I wanna watch the fairies fly."

"Captain, you're a lost cause."

"The lost cause considers what you think of as a weakness to be its most powerful weapon."

She blinks like an idiot. "Aw?—"

"Hey! Don't think I'm soft!" Vine and heights are tripping me up, and my tongue is translating everything wrong.

"Softie..." Vine smirks. I let it slip. If it stops this exchange, she can think whatever she wants.

A rumbling sound erupts, followed by a string of them.

Vine frowns at me. "I won't take another storm. I'll jump. I swear, I will."

Gunpowder has replaced the thunder's sweet and pungent scent. My head tilts when I catch red glows throbbing against the underwings of Magnus. I tug at every scale ridge while crawling to the left.

There is an explosion beneath us. Thousands of blooming fireworks are lining the atmosphere. It's August, and I'm passing all the national dates, scratching my head as to the cause of the celebration.

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

"Your phone? It's got reception?!"

She titters awkwardly, opening all the wrong zips of her suit. "WWAN."

"WWAN?"

"Wide coverage."

I forgot to remove my e-sim! "Give it to me."

Finally, she pulls it out. "Sure."

Her face loosens, almost smirking as I bring the phone to my ear.

"Captain Tyke Kar'Ael."

It's him. Got summoned into his office once. A story about me keeping my distance from his daughter...

"Chief Jinksovan." Today is a test. It's all a test.

"I have less than thirty seconds, so listen closely."

I'm not a phone guy for starters, and this is me giving my max. "Yes."

Several seconds pass.

"Go on, Lark," says a woman's voice.

I'm sensing we've got more in common than I thought. May as well give him a push. "Chief, is it about your daughter?" Vine looks at me oddly, and it's confusing me.

"Someone sang you a song recently."

It looks like I found the one who was betting on us...

"A very gothic one."

"You like the lyrics?"

"No."

"Neither do I." He blows a short breath. "Okay..." And exhales as fast. "Someone blew our cover."

Cover?! Magnus roars as we both draw in a breath.

"Where are you?" he asks between two bleats.

"On a dragon."

There's a brief pause, followed by a short approving simper.

He then clears his throat. "We had to leave. We wanted Fayra to come with us, but she kept mentioning you. You're leaving New Orc, right?"

"Yes. I'm assuming your name isn't really Jinksovan."

"That's a good guess. Let's go back to Fayra, shall we?"

He cuts right to the chase. Could like the guy in different circumstances. "She needs to evacuate the city A.S.A.P. She's being sought out. This is an active search." I keep my stare steady on Vine, fingers holding my jaw from slacking. "For the moment, she's with Officer Styga." Deon. It sounds like I've got to glue his horns back, but I'm unsure it works that way...

The phone crepitates from a heavy sigh. Maybe mine, maybe his.

"Tyke?"

"Yes, chief. I'm... I'm heading to New Orc as we speak."

"Shada." I can hear his swallowing, as well as his terrible delivery. "Shada. Shada of Burmstone, next in line to the Titan Arum Seelie throne." Invisible creepers are intertwining in my guts. Shada is an Orcish word with many connotations—and the majority of them are despised, while only one is revered. Only one, and it is used as a rallying cry before the clash of battle. Destruction... void. "I won't tell you what it means; I'm sure you've already figured that out."

"Who is this Shada?" As I mention the name, the white of Vines' eyes shifts to black. I steady on her, a taste of burn bubbling up my throat and setting fire to my stomach. I gulp multiple times, extinguishing this acid that keeps worsening.

"Fayra. Shada's her real name," the chief says harshly.

"I have many questions."

"Save them for another time."

It's hard for me not to stare at Vine, who's looking at me as intently as I am.

"The story doesn't end here. At the moment, Fay's fine—she virtually doesn't exist. Only an ID and a name linking to us."

"What about her employee file?"

"As far as her job was concerned, it was a ghost file. I was involved in all of it, anyway."

"You left without her..."

"We gave her a choice. She picked you... the best choice. We're being chased, Tyke."

I can't keep my groan low. Fay is a lamb abandoned on a battlefield, whose shepherds knew this day would come. "She should have been prepared for what was coming."

"Now, boy, don't think she's a chosen one. She's been cursed, and nothing is her fault. No matter what happens, keep her in the dark. Our entire lives have been dedicated to protecting her from it. It is important not to trigger her. She should not use her magic. She must not know who she is!"

"Don't you think she deserves to know the truth?"

"No. For the sake of monsterkind, not her! A powerful force lies within her. If unlocked, her magic can make the world kneel at her feet or worse. As a result, my wife and I believe that if Fay never encounters Fidr, the curse will break on its own, unable to be fulfilled... We're trying to get rid of it. Make it stop. This omen can't happen. And how ever the situation unfolds, do not let her get close to Fidr."

"Shouldn't it be the other way round?"

"You don't seem to understand. The curse won't end if Fay kills Fidr, Tyke."

I take in the moment, ears buzzing. They think Fay could kill Fidr!? Could she? Would she?

"You have to hang up." This voice again. It's worried, tainted with an agonized plea.

"Promise us you'll keep our daughter safe." Clearly, he doesn't understand the purpose behind my existence, or he wouldn't even bother asking.

"I don't need to promise anything."

"Say it!"

"If she gets hurt, it means I'm dead."

"Don't call back or answer this number again."

"Understood."

"Another thing..."

I breathe in, exhale, waiting. And again, three times, before I hear, "Swobu."

Hair lifts. At your command... translates with context as 'I listen to you and fight under you.' The vast majority think we don't need apologies, but we apologize just like anyone else. An apology is a ritual, an act between two people, not a word. They never get it, and I'm surprised one person did, who not only happens to be a fae, but Fayra's father.

Suddenly, the line cuts.

"So, was it interesting?" Vine asks.

I open my mouth to answer, but that's just about it. Gravity steepens, my lungs pressed against my spine, and I gasp. I'm still learning how to ride this thing. I think rule number one is to never loosen your hold on whatever you're supposed to hold.

"Captain!"

I throw my grip on a scale, inserting fingers under this giant shield-like cuirass, snatching Vine's wrist in extremis as she slides backward.

In the threshing of Magnus' wings, I feel the force of his push, the weight of his body, and the sheets of his wings, loaded with air as he forces the atmosphere into submission.

"What is happening?" Vine is probing Magnus, hands sweeping over his... shrinking scales!?

We both look at each other, wording a double ditto, "It's temporary!"

"Tell me you have meat on you."

"Yeah, I have my pockets full of rockswine."

"Give him some!"

"Captain, you really think I'd put some roast in my pocket. Tsk. Orcs!"

Magnus folds his wings on his back and, heading down, twirls on himself, making every organ in my body shift. "Hold tight!" I shout, suddenly cloaked in a red blanket of flesh.

My breath halts as he roars, and I notice it is less imposing.

The light of dawn beams down on us as Magnus opens his wings, and now I know what this dragon did. He's as fraught as us; he knows he's getting smaller, trying to reach the ground as fast as he can. "Come on, boy!"

I traded his scales, now shrunk to the size of those of a fish, for his neck, and oh, am I clinging to it. "I can see the Statue of Sovereignty!" Vine shouts, holding me tighter than before.

Looking over the shoulder of Magnus's terrifyingly shrinking wing, I no longer have to dodge his horns, now the size of an average bull.

I gasp, recognizing the red-bricked street. "Helbenixon!"

We zip over Central Arch and gradually sink onto the streets. Everything is in smoke, the thick sound of detonations setting off in the distance, trash bins burning at random. "Beat it, Magnus!"

"We're going to hit a building! Ah!"

"Left!" I shout. Incredible as it is, he takes the turn. Maybe he can't talk, but he understands.

I stretch out an arm, pointing at a narrow building shaped like a flatiron. "That triangular roof with the white pebbles!"

Upon patting his neck, Magnus puffs a faded veil of smoke, his limits reached.

As the ground approaches fast, I let go of him, seize Vine's arms that have been belting me during most of this journey, and unbuckle myself, finally freed from her.

It's a flurry of sky and flying gravel, knees hit, head, my rib taking in the rugged surface of stones as I roll.

I open my eyes.

The gray sky.

The flat of a roof on my back...

I catch my breath while another elf releases it. "Woo-hoo! I'm fucking alive!"