Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) by David Temrick Page A

contently
snoring. Small columns of sparks issued from her snout as she
sputtered in her sleep slightly, causing the Prince to leap back;
much to Otis’ amusement. The old man laughed as he reached out with
his hand, closing his eyes briefly.
    A large intricately constructed saddle flew
towards them as Otis used his arts to wake Bethia gently. The large
red dragon opened her eyes and regarded the Prince openly. The
familiarity of the dragons he knew created a false sense of
security, upon closer inspection, dragons were large, dangerous
looking and those talons were enough to give the bravest person
pause. While Tristan was not unaccustomed to flying by dragon, he
had never met a younger dragon before either. All in all, he wasn’t
sure what to expect.
    Hello…friend. He felt inside his
mind.
    He smiled widely as he focused his mind,
finding it slightly more difficult than talking to the elder
dragons. Hello Bethia. He replied as calmly as he could.
    We fly? She asked.
    The Prince looked over at Otis who was
placing the black and red saddle over her back and cinching it
behind her forelegs. He ran the strap along and buckled them
together on her chest. He watched as she took a few deep breaths to
make sure it wasn’t too tight. Otis then pulled two straps down on
either side of her neck and strapped them to a four-point harness
where the other two straps connected.
    Bethia rose experimentally, stretching her
wings out to their full length and flapping them slowly up and
down. A gust of wind caused Tristan’s hair, ruffling it as he held
his ground, fighting down the urge to turn and flee. She shook her
body, making sure that the saddle wouldn’t move. Otis secured the
stirrups and adjusted their height for Tristan.
    “Well?” Drake asked bemused.
    “Well what? I can secure my legs to those
stirrups, but how am I supposed to fight?” He asked in shock.
    Bethia surprised him by clamping her jaw down
on his nightshirt and lifting him up, dropping him in the saddle.
Tristan landed with a grunt and quickly thrust his feet into the
stirrups for fear of her taking off abruptly. He used the fold of
leather from the front over each leg and the buckles to secure
himself to the saddle. He twisted experimentally, moving his arms
and torso around to become accustomed to the movement.
    “I like it.” He admitted, grinning widely. He
felt like a child on the back of a father: safe, yet
exhilarated.
    Otis locked eyes with Bethia and she took off
with surprising speed. Tristan was thrown back in the saddle; the
small rise on the back stopped his short slide as he struggled
forward to grasp the horn. The large red dragon shot upwards and
Tristan’s ears popped from the rapid climb. They shot out of a
tunnel cut into the top of the cave. They cleared the top of a
mountain, finally leveling out just above the peaks. Tristan could
see the snow falling on the tops of the mountain range, but felt no
cold. Reaching in front of the horn he felt Bethia’s scales to find
them hot to the touch. Their heat warmed him and kept the chill of
the high altitude away from the Prince.
    Tristan reached out with his mind and
contacted Bethia, opening the connection between them. This is
amazing! He urged her.
    Want roll? She asked.
    Her words were still coming to her with a
degree of difficulty, but with Tristan strapped to her back he felt
oddly safe. Yes! He called.
    Almost at once he wished he hadn’t. Her roll
was a sharp incline that threw him back in the saddle again. As she
pulled over Tristan felt light as his rear left the saddle and he
dangled by his legs briefly. The weight came crashing back down as
she completely her loop and Tristan cheered in his mind between
them. He tried to communicate the word to her of what she had just
accomplished, and she satisfied him with the right phrase.
    That was loop? She asked
uncertainly.
    The Prince laughed out loud as he answered
yes in her mind. She snorted sparks in happiness as she asked; you like