The Final Storm (Part 3)

It Rains Bombs

Half an hour later Ryan was sweating in the saddle. Thistle had leveled out and now they were soaring just above the clouds, trying to figure out a plan. Ryan’s breath came out in heavy puffs of hot mist, it was freezing at this altitude! Of course the Frostys wouldn’t notice, they didn’t even feel the chilly wind that made Thistle zoom over the earth at a crazy speed. Ryan knew his dragon was nervous. Forest dragons weren’t made to fly this high and he knew it. Every time he managed to find a jet stream, he would mentally scream as he was jerked forward.

            “So, are we going to take them by surprise?” Daemon’s voice interrupted his thoughts.  “Perhaps dive bomb the front lines, drive them back?”

            Ryan was jealous at how cool Daemon looked, like he was perfectly fine at thousands of feet up in the air. Fraylon was similarly unfazed, his wings handling the strange currents masterfully. They weren’t even breathing heavily in the oxygen-depleted air! Ryan wrapped his billowing cloak tighter around himself. “Yeah, but where is the front line? It just looks like a huge mass of people.” Indeed, marching thousands of feet below, was the unruly shape of a massive army that stretched all the way to the forest. They were marching steadily onwards, and from this height they looked way too near to Baroke for Ryan’s liking.

            He gulped. “Yeah. You take on the people from the north. I go for the south. See the little brown ones? Let’s start off with that, okay? Shake them up a bit.” Ryan gave a deep breath as Daemon nodded and Fraylon dipped his wings to soar north, where he became lost in a cloud.

            “Let’s give a count of ten,” Ryan’s words were choppy as his teeth started to chatter. Thistle nodded, preparing his wing muscles for a massive dive. “Ten, nine,” he felt his heart quicken in his chest like a frightened rabbit and he patted Thistle’s neck, sending soothing thoughts. “We can do this. Eight…. Seven.”

            “That’s it,” Thistle muttered. “I can’t stand it anymore. I’m going for it.” He angled his huge head downwards and dove.

            Ryan screamed but his voice was stolen by the wind. He crouched lower in the saddle, fearing that he would be peeled off Thistle’s back. The straps keeping him on the saddle flapped against his legs and he winced as the metal hit his legs repeatedly. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. All he felt was the wind biting his face, leaving him feeling numb. Tears streamed down his cheeks before the wind swept them away.

            Then suddenly Thistle snapped his wings out and silver ribbons trailed from the edge of his wing tendons. The huge muscles of his wings strained with the effort, Thistle let out a cry of pain as his wings filled with air. Ryan gasped as he felt a sudden jerk that made his stomach feel like it had dropped to the ground. Quickly, he grabbed three bombs from the saddle bags as Thistle leveled out and rocketed over the earth at an insane speed. Black and red armor splotched before his eyes. His icy fingers fumbling, he popped the caps off the first one and tossed it overboard.  The other one’s cap came off easily and he let it fly. Twin booms sounded simultaneously behind him and he smiled, letting the clamorous shouts of confused men fill his ears like beautiful music.

            One more… he fumbled with the lid, feeling like he had butter on his fingers. This one was slick with moisture, it had probably been sticking out of the bag as they fell through the clouds. He cursed under his breath, his hands slipping repeatedly. “I can’t-get it off!”

            Suddenly Thistle let out a roar as Fraylon flew towards them like a silver comet, his slender wings cutting through the air. They were both going too fast! It was going to be a head on collision if someone didn’t move- and fast. Ryan’s hands clamped on the bomb’s lid, his magnified eyes like a frog’s from the goggles.