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19
She squeals, voice echoing out into the cave. Her dragon replies as she leaps and hugs me. My whole body tingles at her touch and I return her embrace. She hasn’t touched me in months. I was an empty man and she has filled me back up with a simple hug that used to mean nothing between us. She lets go too soon and absentmindedly runs a hand down my chest as she selects a saddle. My breath catches in my throat at her caress. I let it be what it is to her—a mindless passing graze.
She hauls a saddle, straps and all, through the small doorway. With deep breaths, the ache in my body eases a little as I follow her out.
In the illumination of the open cave, I can see light green scrollwork pressed into the tan leather. The seat is thickly padded and the straps have metal buckles at the end. It is much like our horse saddles except for the size. The seat is normal size but the straps are long enough to wrap around the Hundred Harvest Tree.
Hollis heaves the saddle close to the cage and Tristeh approaches sniffing.
“Is this yours?” Hollis asks the beast. Eyeing her strange way of communicating with it, I am surprised when it blows air out its nostril and walks away.
“Hmm,” she grunts and drags it back to the storeroom, exchanging it for another saddle. “How about this one?” I have never seen a white saddle before. This one has embossed vines and reddish flowers down each white fender. The seat is burnt red leather.
Tristeh draws near again. She sniffs and doesn’t walk away.
Ecstatic, Hollis shouts, “Yes, this one!”
“Seriously, you can’t know that.”
“She has a language, Ledger. You just have to take time to learn it, silly boy.” Hollis lifts the white saddle and walks to the backside of the enclosure. I grit my teeth at her remark and the fact that she is still jabbing me even though I’ve agreed to help her.
The dragon follows her tiny figure all the way around the cage. I stand in awe for a moment when a revelation hits me. We could ride the dragon outside. We could search the ground. I won’t need my silly contraption that may or may not fly anymore.
We could fly a dragon.
I snicker to myself at how ridiculous it sounds. I would first have to get over the fact that this dragon terrifies me to the core, and then muster the strength to actually touch it. Why can’t I be as brave as Tolliver? Or as trusting as Hollis? Or as tough as Angus?
I use the idea to embolden myself. I resolve that I’ll pretend we are saddling a horse. Granted it is a giant scaly horse with talons and sharp teeth.
There is an enormous gate in front of the opening to the cave that leads outside. It must be how they get the beast in and out. Hollis slides the large metal bar that locks the gate closed. It squeaks loudly, echoing around the massive cavern. In an instant, the dragon stops moving. It may even be holding its breath like I am. Hollis pulls the gate open wide enough for only her and the saddle to squeeze through.
“Leave it open,” she nods and walks toward the beast. I’m surprised by her caution with this thing. I don’t remember her being so self-controlled. I thought she’d walk brazenly into the cage and slap it on its back. Instead, she slowly places the saddle on the ground in the center of the enclosure and backs away.
“Let’s see if she rips it up.” She smiles and inches her way out the gate pushing it closed, but doesn’t latch it. She puts her face between the bars, cheeks flushed with energy, eyes ablaze with excitement. Usually those eyes lead us into trouble, but maybe she has harnessed their unruly nature and is capable of taking precautions.
We hear loud grumbling as the dragon circles the saddle. It inhales the scent of the leather, nudges it with its nose several times before coming to rest beside the jumbled pile of straps and pads.
“Yes,” Hollis cheers. “She just might let us do this.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
I chuckle nervously as anxiety cuts off circulation from my limbs and pumps it through my head and chest like a torrent.
“Come on,” she chides, entering the cage while holding the gate open for me.
I take one step through and the dragon hisses loudly, mouth gaping wide. It raises its haunches and I quickly step outside the cage.
“I don’t think she wants you to come in,” Hollis says.
The threatened creature calms down, rests on the cold ground and waits.
Completely okay with not going near the thing, I push the gate closed and encourage, “Be careful.”
“I will,” she agrees. I almost believe her as she gently approaches a dragon four times her height. It looks as though she could walk underneath its belly and not be able to touch it.
My body is throbbing even though I’m not the one who is coming within reach of giant jaws and claws. I have a bad feeling that I’m doing the wrong thing, again.
Hollis tiptoes to the saddle and unwinds the straps on the floor.
“Grab the straps that go over the far side and pull them up over the saddle toward you,” I coach, keeping my tone calm and quiet. “Then they won’t get caught when you slide the saddle over her back.”
Hollis nods. She takes an agonizing few minutes to organize the straps and lift the saddle. I worry her arms won’t allow her to lift it high enough to reach the dragon’s back.
The dragon slowly lowers its body to the ground, stone crunching beneath its weight. Its leg joints are more like a dog’s. Luckily, its back is void of spikes. Still, it is higher than Hollis’s head. She cannot possibly lift the saddle high enough. Before I decide I should help, it rolls its backbone toward her without instruction.
Hollis coos sweetly at the dragon as she places the white leather saddle upon its crimson scales. She pushes the straps and they flap over to the other side. I want to cheer for her, but decide against it for fear the sudden noise will disrupt their peaceful interaction.
Once applied, the dragon slowly rights itself and rises to its knees. Hollis stands there holding the straps nearest her. “Now what?”
I whisper, “Reach under and grab the front strap. Latch it to the front strap on your side.” She nods and follows my direction. “Then do the same with the back strap. Tighten it as much as you can around the belly.” The dragon winces as she pulls each strap taught, tying them through a metal loop.
She stands back and we both notice the weird way the saddle sits on the dragon’s back. It is puckered up in the middle and sliding to the side. There is also a strip of leather that hangs awkwardly underneath.
“I don’t think that’s right,” she says.
“Oh, wait,” I ponder a different way. “Maybe unhook the front strap and wrap it around the front legs. Across its chest.”
The dragon is getting antsy and is uncomfortable with the incorrect installation of the saddle. Hollis speaks gently, calming it momentarily. She unlatches the front strap and wraps it around the dragon’s chest. It tightens easily, and Hollis hooks the strip of leather connecting the front and back. The saddle is finally snugly in place.
She giggles and the dragon leaps to its feet.
I am taken aback by the sudden movement and prepare to save Hollis. My heart pounds with every moment. The dragon bounds into the air with the white saddle upon its back. I can’t decide if it is trying to rid itself of the binds or if it is enjoying itself.
Hollis stands in the middle of the room awaiting her ride. I fear for her life but refrain from calling out to her. I hear a barely audible whistle come from Hollis. The dragon dives toward her and I resist the urge to close my eyes. It lands in the exact spot it had taken off from. Hollis giggles again, placing a hand on the scaly shoulder. The beast kneels and leans to the side. It has been trained well. My only hope is that Hollis knows what to do.
She lifts her left leg and places it in the stirrup. She grabs the front of the saddle and heaves her little body up, swinging her right leg over the seat. She leans to the far side, probably inserting her foot in the other stirrup, while the dragon rights itself.
I’m not sure what the commands would be for a dragon. The same for a horse, perhaps, but horses don’t fly. I am dizzy with the possibility of danger and all the unknowns.
Hollis settles herself into the saddle. She lifts a few unused straps that protrude from the back of the saddle. “What’s this for?”
“I have no idea,” I shrug, annoyed that I really have no idea.
She drops them and noticeably doesn’t know what to do with her hands. “Am I missing something?”
I realize there are no reins or bit, nothing to control the dragon. My gut wrenches and I tell her, “Get off, Hollis. We need reins so you can direct it where to go.”
“There weren’t any reins in the storage room though. Maybe dragons don’t take a bit.”
“Please, please just get down and we’ll figure something out.”
She grabs onto the front of the saddle. When I think she will swing her leg over and dismount, she actually kicks with her heels and says, “Fly, Tristeh!”
“Hollis!” I shriek in a very unmanly way. But it is too late; the dragon rises to its feet and springs into the air in one smooth motion.
She howls joyously as the beast soars around the room with wings spread wide. As it makes a sudden upward thrust, Hollis loses her grip. She screams as she falls from her perch with one foot still hooked in the stirrup.
