Wow, two posts in one day. It must be Tuesday! Because, well, it is. Or, weeeelll, it’s the mean time when I said I’d post this. I’m really in the Time Vortex at the moment, so I could have published it in the 5th Century BC if I wanted. Though they didn’t have internet or computers back then so it would have been rather useless but I could if I wanted to!
My entry to Rachael Ritchey’s #BlogBattle. Genre is fantasy/adventure, and prompt word was “Ride.”
Gigantic golden wings bore down on them from above, and the boy crouched over the galloping horse’s neck, pressing his face into the pale gray mane. His only hope now was to ride, to trust the horse.
He wasn’t even sure if he was doing the right thing any more. He hoped he was, of course, but he was almost past caring.
He closed his eyes tight and heard a squawk as the hippogriff that was following them had its vision suddenly cut off. It was only a temporary fix, and he and the hippogriff both knew it, even as the massive beast crashed to earth behind them, sending up shock waves that reverberated through the horse’s hooves and up its legs. The trusty animal, however, did not falter. The hippogriff stumbled blindly after them, screaming in a horrible, almost-human voice. He could feel the wind sting his cheeks as it flapped enormous wings in a failed attempt to get back into the air, blind as it was.
By feel alone, he reached down to the knife by his side and drew it out, cutting his palm by accident as he did so. He licked away the excess blood without thinking and then cursed inwardly. It would be twice as difficult to complete the process now. Feeling the razor edge scraping across his skin, he lifted blood from the cut on the knife blade, flicking it downward to join with the earth. The knife shears through a lock of thick gold hair and the hair, sticky at the ends, flies at the sky. Then, praying it would work, he opened his eyes for a millisecond and grabbed the halter from the horse’s head. The knife severed it and the pieces flew from his hands. The hippogriff screeched in rage before vanishing in a burst of hot white light that blazed against the boy’s closed eyelids. With a sigh of relief, the boy finally opened his eyes, the world crashing into him in a blaze of color and light so bright and painful all he could do was blink.
Now all he had to do was bypass the Cadon’s armies, slip through the sentries, and avoid the Furies, and get the vital information he carried to the King before nightfall.
Easier said than done.