Dragonspell - Donita K. Paul [50]
“‘You can do it. You can do it,’ he says. And I say, ‘What if we get into the air and this thing comes loose? Then what will happen, Master Dar?’”
Kale turned the saddle over once more. “I think this is the top and this is the front.” She looked at the large dragon. “How am I supposed to get this on you? You’re as big as a barn.” She looked around at the empty stalls and the bare hayloft. “Well, almost as big as a barn.”
Dar?
“What?”
Tell me how to put this saddle on Celisse.
The dragon lay down on the dirt floor. Following Dar’s instructions, Kale stood on Celisse’s leg. The small o’rant girl heaved the cumbersome double-seater over the dragon’s back, between her wings. The riding dragon stood to allow the buckles underneath to be secured. After several tries, Kale finally had all the straps going the right direction and fastened to the correct places on patient Celisse’s body.
I’m ready, Kale announced to Dar.
“Have you unlatched the barn doors and climbed into the saddle?”
No, just a minute.
Kale ran across the dirt floor. She put her eye to the crack, trying to remember if she had seen anything propped against the outside of the doors to keep them from opening. No, I remember the door was clear, and the bar brackets were empty.
One glance told her that no one had since barred the door. The afternoon haze swirled between her and the charred ruins of the farmhouse.
A breeze!
A patch of sun broke through the thinning fog. She could clearly see the bisonbeck on guard.
They were running out of time.
20
FIRST FLIGHT
Dar?
“I’m here.”
We’re ready.
“Good. This fog is going to blow away in the next few minutes. I’m moving into the farmyard. Don’t come out of the barn until you hear a long blast from my trumpet. When you come out, fly high and don’t look back. Got it?”
Got it.
Kale put on her cape and approached Celisse.
“Now, I’ve never done any riding of any kind unless you count riding in a wagon, and I wouldn’t count that if I were you. So I’m not going to be good at this. I guess I’m saying I’m a bit nervous.”
Celisse sent Kale an image. The huge, matronly dragon relaxed in the sun with numerous small children clambering over her. Then Kale saw the dragon in flight with a small boy clinging to Celisse’s saddle. The o’rant girl breathed a sigh of relief and climbed onto the dragon’s back.
She hooked her knees over hard leather braces on each side of the saddle horn. These braces made a three-quarter loop, providing a sturdy anchor for her legs to squeeze during flight. Kale assumed that she would clutch this safety device and any other within reach as soon as they were airborne. The saddle horn had two padded handles. A second seat, attached to the first, extended out behind her. The farmer’s saddle had no fancy scrolling in the leather—no ornamentation at all—but it was strong, well put together, and in good repair. Kale thought it was a splendid saddle.
No reins extended from Celisse’s head to Kale’s hands. The thought of using reins to direct a dragon was ridiculous. A dragon rider communicated to a dragon through mindspeaking. The dragon followed suggestions, if it desired. Dar had given Kale rudimentary instructions on flying with a dragon. No one thought of the dragon rider as master and the dragon as beast of burden. The two formed a team, and that was only if the dragon so chose.
Kale heard the rapid blasts of a trumpet. She recognized the melody within the first distinctive notes. “March of the King of Lightyme” was a popular tavern tune.
“What’s that?” a soldier’s rough voice bellowed.
“Music,” another bisonbeck answered with a sluggish voice as if he’d just awoken.
“I know that, you clout. Where’s it coming from?”
“Well, would you look at that?” exclaimed a third voice.
Kale very much wanted to see what was going on. To do so, she pictured the soldier who stood guard by the wagon. She repeated the words Granny had given her for protection in an evil mind and entered the man’s thoughts just