Stephen Zimmer - Dream of Legends

“Are you ready?” Ulfcytel asked him, at the end of the questioning.

Wulfstan nodded, taking a deep breath. It was much more a matter of necessity rather than readiness, but what had to be done, had to be done. “As ready as I am ever going to be, with the time we have available to us.”

“Then let us take to the skies,” Ulfcytel said, with a hint of exuberance.

Turning his steed, Ulfcytel guided it forward. Wulfstan followed, as they worked their way over to a long stretch of open ground. Following Ulfcytel’s instigation, Cloud Runner sprang forward, and then leaped up, towards the sky, pumping its wings furiously. The creature began to ascend slowly, with each flex of its wings.

Wulfstan took another deep breath, and uttered a silent prayer to the Almighty. Gripping the reins, he let out a long, extended breath. Then, he executed the motions to command the steed to take flight, as he had been instructed, and followed in the wake of the sky rider.

Wulfstan’s sky steed bounded forward and then leaped. A rush of adrenaline manifested with the explosion of movement, and escalated within Wulfstan, as the Himmeros’ wings clung to the air and lifted them off of the ground. His stomach felt queasy, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to avoid becoming too disoriented. He felt a strong, constant pull at his back, causing him to brace his feet in the stirrups and hold onto the reins firmly. The air beat incessantly against his face while the steed’s wings pumped vigorously, and he felt immensely glad for the securing straps as the Himmeros went into a steep incline.

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.