“I need a view of him,” Aevrin called. Kazeic grunted and tilted to the other side. Aevrin gripped the crossbow tight in asweaty hand and searched the ground below. They were low enough for him to shoot; high enough he’d die if he fell, but he’d been riding Kazeic for years now. Even if the straps failed, he knew what he was doing.
Aevrin chose his shot. He could feel Kazeic’s muscles shifting as the drake prepared to straighten out; the cowherd didn’t have long. Narrowing his eyes he pulled the crossbow’s metal trigger and let the arrow fly.
Kazeic swung back upright. Aevrin leaned forward to catch a glimpse over the dragon’s shoulder. He’d hit the man, though he couldn’t see where or how badly: his target had fallen from his saddle, catching on the reins and dragging them so the bull kicked his legs out, flamed, and spiraled towards the edge of the road.
Kazeic hummed brutal satisfaction and began to tilt over again.
“I gotta reload first,” Aevrin reminded him flatly. With a huff, the bloodthirsty drake straightened and pulled higher, out of range of the men below. Gripping tight with his thighs, bent forward to keep his balance despite the ripping wind, Aevrin turned the bow sideways and slipped it down. He kicked his left foot out of the saddle stirrup and toed into the crossbow’s cocking strap. With a deep breath, trusting Kazeic to keep steady, he yanked the string back up in one heavy pull and hooked it on the trigger. Then he quickly returned his foot to the saddle stirrup.
He spared a glance at their position. They were keeping pace with the men below, but getting close to town already with their speed. He was worried enough about hurting the captive juvenile without adding bystanders into the mix. Aevrin pulled a barbed arrow from the covered quiver on Kazeic’s saddle. He loaded it intothe bow and swung it up.
“Ready.”
The second bull rider was missing. He glanced behind him to make sure the man wasn’t getting away off-road. No; the outlaw had merely fallen behind.
Mavek and Sath were in the air, joining the chase but a bit behind Aevrin. He whistled sharply to get their attention, then used the same hand signals they used for moving cattle, directing his family to take care of the bulls. Aevrin would handle the gold dragon.
Mavek shot back two short, sharp whistles to show he’d heard. Then his brother’s red pinned his wings and dove straight down, Mavek whooping a trick-rider’syee-hawas he plummeted towards his prey.
Aevrin leaned back forwards, returning his focus to the gold dragon. The juvenile below him wove wildly, sliding, fighting its rider with desperate snarls. Aevrin watched the rider raise his crop and slash stinging blows across the dragon’s back. The outlaw on the dragon’s back didn’t have the ability to face Aevrin or shoot at him, not when his whole focus was on keeping the dragon moving.
“Dive,” Aevrin said. “But don’t hurt ‘em.”
With a snarl, Kazeic pinned his wings and shot down towards earth. Aevrin leaned fully back in the saddle, his shoulders brushing the dragon’s scales; they were shooting down so fast Aevrin was nearly vertical. He trusted Kazeic to judge the distance, and kept allhisfocus on staying seated, thighs clamped tight. His eyes teared as the wind tore hard at them. The strap around his chin wasn’t strong enough and his hat went flying.
The ground was fifty feet away, then thirty, then ten. He could see the balding spot on the outlaw’s head. Then Kazeic’s muscles shifted, and the gray drake’s wings flared hard. They snapped level to the ground. Kazeic’s hind feet skidded across the road as the drake rammed to a stop in front of the goldjuvenile. Aevrin's core clenched tight to keep him from flopping around like laundry on a line. He swung his bow up, eyes instantly on his target.
If the gold dragon had kept still, Aevrin could have punched a bolt straight through the outlaw’s throat. As it was, the youngster screamed and hurled to the side, tail and back legs kicking up as he jumped off the road away from the territorial adult drake who’d just slammed down in front of him.
Hitting one of the small stones scattered by the side of the road, the gold tripped under the weight of his rider and went sprawling with a cry of pain. Aevrin tried to aim, keeping his finger light on the trigger to avoid accidentally shooting a bolt at the dragon. The rider’s arm swung up and back down, trying to whip the dragon back upright, but the juvenile screamed and clawed himself forward without standing.
The outlaw leapt from the saddle, crop abandoned, and took off on foot across the burnt pasture.
Aevrin hesitated. He had a clear shot of the man’s back. But a brutal, furious part of him no longer wanted to give this stranger a clean ending. He wanted the man to face justice. He wanted to know whether this monster had been one of the ones to hurt Cassia;; if he'd treated her with the same cruelty as the dragon. Aevrin wanted the monster to sit with what he’d done. And apologize to her on his knees.
Aevrin shoved the crossbow back into its holster and freed the coil of rope clipped to Kazeic’s saddle.
“Hold back,” Aevrin told Kazeic. The dragon hissed. “I know. But this one’s mine,” he said, feeling Kazeic’s annoyance that Aevrin was calling all the shots here.
The outlaw turned over his shoulder and fired a wild shot with his own bow. It was meant to be in Aevrin’s direction, he supposed, but the man was running hard, or maybe just wasn’tany good. The arrow went wide and high. Aevrin tamped down the natural fear that came from having an arrow shot at you. Even a bad archer could still get a lucky hit. But he’d already won this fight. His hands twisted the rope expertly.
And then Aevrin had a lasso.
“Alright. Run. No flaming,” Aevrin said. Kazeic growled and lunged forward, wings pinned and claws gouging into the earth with a ripple of muscle. Each stride closed the distance so fast he bore down like an avalanche. Aevrin spun the lasso overhead, wrist flicking as it twirled. Two seconds, and he was just behind the man despite the runner’s head start. Aevrin threw the lasso, praying he’d judged their speeds just right.
And then, as it fell over the man’s head and shoulders, Kazeic ground to a sliding halt. The drake skillfully dropped his hindquarters and flared his wings in a billow of dirt, just like when they were working cattle. With grunt of pain the man snapped back, the rope cutting his middle as his crossbow flew out of his hand. Aevrin wound his rope quickly around the saddle pommel as Kazeic backed up, pulling the man away from his weapon. The captive fell, and struggled upright.
“I wouldn’t fight it,” Aevrin informed him flatly. “Kazeic here seemed a little mad when I stopped him from killing you.”
As if in agreement, the gray dragon snapped his teeth a foot away from the outlaw’s face.
Merciless, Aevrin turned Kazeic towards the road and towed the man back that way, going just slow enough that the fugitive could run instead of being dragged if he didn't lose his balance. The criminal stumbled desperately after Kazeic as he fought to get out of the tight rope binding.
Despite Aevrin’s anger, he spared a worried look at the gold dragon lying wounded on the ground. The juvenile was going toneed a lot of help, and dragons treated that poorly didn’t tend to take kindly to humans.
As he reached the road Boone’s dragon, followed by the deputy sheriff, landed. Boone dismounted, hand on his sword hilt, and took one look at the man Aevrin had dragged back to the road. Aevrin didn’t have to say a word. Kazeic halted, then lowered his head as Aevrin scratched his neck in thanks. The drake hummed.
Boone sauntered forward slowly. The man Aevrin lassoed had fallen to his knees, arms pinned at his side, gulping air after his forced run. Shaking, the criminal sat back onto his heels, and turned his face up to the bright morning sky.
