To Race the Wylde Wynd Ch. 33

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People were gathered along each side of the street. The noise level of the shouting and clapping rose as the big racers were paraded to the starting line. More than one rider had their hands full as the intelligent animals responded to the noise and excitement. Two stallions rose on their hind legs, screaming and striking at each other. They battled until the race handlers drove them apart. The beautiful golden stallion of Don Diego's crow hopped in a circle trying to dump the Don's red headed son. Azra was VERY disappointed when Rafe managed to stay mounted.

The riders were trying to get the high strung beasts to line up and had just succeeded when an angry scream echoed out from the alleyway. It started impossibly high, making the hair stand up on the back of everyone's neck. Then it traveled down the scale ending in a deep, rumbling WAH WAH WAH. Every destria on the line spun, not wanting to have their ass ends to the monster coming down the alley.

Grant snickered.

“Bet they didn't take the... I am a bigger bad ass than you... factor into account when they agreed to let that bastard race!”

The ground seemed to tremble as the big silver stallion thundered out onto the street.

Chrysta had him collected in a tight canter and she just managed to bring the impressive beast to a sliding, rearing stop. The black and crimson dragon-scale glittered in the sunlight. When seen against his gleaming silver hide, this armor accented the black striping that extended over El Diablo's massive shoulders and down his powerful legs. His white mane and trimmings flowed in the wind of his movements as if they were living things.

The difference between the destria bred as racers and this throw back to a battle stallion were stunningly apparent. The runners were sleek, powerful looking beasts. Even so they did not have the massive high crested neck, or the thick rippling muscle that made El Diablo look like a primordial force of nature. The only stallion that came close to him in size was the dappled golden beast of Diego's. This destria was confident enough in his virility that he reared, screaming his answer the rogue's challenge.

Chrysta tightened her grip on the four reins and turned the great beast in a circle while he cantered in place. This kept the stallion occupied while they got Rafe's animal back under control. The woman had put on her dragon-mail. It rippled, glimmering like solidified ebony fire over her trim form. Crimson gauntlets adorned her forearms. These matched the greaves strapped to her lower legs. All were equipped with sharp dagger like blades that pointed out. The black and red almost delicate looking sword strapped to El Diablo's shoulder, the beautiful gun holstered at the woman's hip, and the living, breathing, INSANE weapon that she rode drew the attention of every person on the street.

Even some of the hardened riders looked as if they would rather be elsewhere! It was very obvious that this pair was a force to be reckoned with. As the stallion slowly turned in place picking up and pounding down those big cloven hooves, Azra noticed that there was a large sheathed dagger and a small black pouch on Chrysta's other hip. She moved easily with the stallion, her body alive with that odd, lithe grace that always seemed a part of her every move.

Azra shifted uneasily as he watched. The dreamleaf had not eased ALL the woman's pain that morning and she should not have been able to move that smoothly. When she glanced his way, the woman's mouth was pulled into a tight, predatory, tooth baring smile. Her eyes were shimmering, jewel bright, in her lightly flushed face. Noticing the outrider's dark frown, the woman gave him a cheeky wink.

Chrysta held the stallion back from the line. She nodded to the stewards, making it clear that she did not mind starting from behind the pack. The crowd quieted in anticipation as the competitors lined up again. They roared as the starting shot echoed out. The tightly packed racers surged down the course with a sound like rolling thunder. Chrysta had El Diablo so tightly in check that his body looked almost compressed. His massive head was bowed to his chest and most of his weight was shifted back on his dancing hind legs. She held him there, waiting for the main group to clear the confines of the street.

As he watched his competition move out, the stallion's body stilled, holding like a quivering statue. One ice green eye rolled in Azra's direction and those black lips peeled back in an evil, fang toothed smile. That wicked anticipatory expression jerked the outrider out of the crouch he had assumed before taking off. Before Azra could react in any way, Chrysta rocked her center of gravity forward. She loosened her hold on the reins at the same time. El Diablo uncoiled, launching himself down the street like a thrown spear.

Azra's golden eyes narrowed. All the alarms in his head went off as he watched the rider use her whole body to keep the savage animal away from all of those tempting human "morsels" lining the street.

“GRANT!”

The outrider crooked a black talon in a come hither gesture. Azra's respect for the man recovered a notch when the bartender came forward without hesitation. The Innkeeper listened intensely to the demon's gravelly voice, quietly nodding to indicate his understanding of the instructions. He backed away as the demon strode out into the street to give himself wing room.

Azra growled back over his shoulder as he crouched to take off.

“If either of them give you... ANY... flack, you tell them that Constantine is not the one they will have to account to if they refuse what I demand!”

In a flurry of black on crimson wings and wind the outrider sprang up. He shot along the street, causing the crowd to scream and clap again thinking it was all a part of the show.

It only took a few minutes for Azra to catch up to the racing pair. Chrysta was following the path that led to the river route they had traveled before. The other riders were avoiding it, proof that the news of the pack of rapines had been passed along. The woman was cutting every corner she could before they reached the forest. She often directed the galloping stallion off of the path to cut across open ground. This was shaving distance but it made the rider work harder. Azra could see her body making constant and minute adjustments in its balance as she used her skill and experience to steady the big animal as they traveled over the rougher ground.

Azra slipped the little Spy Bug in his ear, wincing as it set its claws so it would not fall out. The demon dropped his altitude, picking up speed so he could ride over the pair. He leveled off high enough it wouldn't distract her but low enough that his black shadow passed over them. This alerted the rider that he was there. He saw Chrysta's head move slightly as a flick of her fingers acknowledged her awareness of him.

He mentally nudged the Bug to transmit knowing now it wouldn't startle her.

“I won't be able to see you once you are in the trees. Contact me every couple of minutes so I can follow where you are at!”

Chrysta must have set hers to transmit a constant feed. She did not physically answer him. Instead Azra suddenly heard El Diablo's pounding hooves. He was also privy to Chrysta's occasional murmur as she encouraged the stallion. More often than these were the hissed curses as she swore at the beast when he fought her control.

She flashed a quick, narrow eyed look up at Azra's dark winged form as they entered the shadow of the forest.

“No matter what you hear, Azra. DON'T interfere!”

The winged one gave a slight nod as he dropped a little lower to just skim over the trees. She would be traveling where he couldn't see her for a long while and he wasn't PROMISING anything.

Azra found that if he flew at just the right height he could get fleeting glimpses of silver and crimson. This made the pair a little easier to track. He almost dropped into the trees when a loud thump and crack came over the link.

“Damn it...you FUCKER! Do that again and I WILL put a bullet in you.”

The radio did a fairly good job of picking up the fury in Chrysta's voice.

“Are you okay?”

He heard her grunt as she fought the silver for control before she breathlessly answered.

“I'm fine... fricken ASSHOLE just tried to scrape me off on a tree.”

The only sound for a while was the muffled rumble of hooves. Azra relaxed a little. Maybe the stallion had worked it out of his system.

A sound came over the radio that the demon was very familiar with... the double click of a gun being cocked.

“We have company.”

Was all Chrysta had time for.

El Diablo screamed hoarsely. Three sharp CRACKS echoed through the forest as Chrysta's gun voiced its own challenge. The sound of the stallion's grunt of pain at twin impacts came over the feed. A screech of talons skittering over dragon-mail made the demon's skin crawl. The racing pair broke into a slight clearing. Azra had a glimpse of a rapine hanging on to the stallion's shoulder. The creature dug its talons in while trying to reach the rider. Chrysta swung her elegant gun up and over, literally putting her hand in the dagger toothed mouth as she pulled the trigger. The ugly head disintegrated. El Diablo's flying back hooves caught another attacker that had launched itself at his rump. As the trees closed back around them the pair was pulling away from the pursuing animals. The pack slowed down. They had lost five members in the same amount of seconds. They knew they were hopelessly outmatched when it came to keeping up with the destria's speed. The rest turned off, looking for easier prey.

Azra listened carefully. El Diablo's hoof beats never faltered and Chrysta's breathing settled back into a steady rhythm. It sounded as if neither had come to any real harm. With the noise of the rapines crashing through the undergrowth, the demon lost track of the pair for a moment. He gained altitude trying to get a glimpse of them. As a result, the outrider was high, a little behind and to their left when the pair broke out of the trees.

They were heading for the ridge overlooking Paradise valley when El Diablo slipped sideways while in full stride. He twisted and spun in one fluid motion. Chrysta's injured muscles could not compensate for the combination of three different direction changes in the space of a breath. The rider was pitched off over the silver shoulder on the right. Azra watched as she tucked into a ball and hit the ground rolling. Chrysta must have known what El Diablo was thinking because she continued to roll, just vacating the spot where all four of the stallion's sharp cloven hooves viciously landed. The stallion followed, trying to crush her under his hooves. Luckily, sheer momentum carried him past her rolling body.

The outrider cursed, gaining speed and losing altitude faster than was safe as he tried to make it there in time. He snarled again as Chrysta gasped harshly over the radio.

“AZRA... do NOT interfere!”

Flaring his wings wide, the demon shot over the two as the woman rolled gracefully to her feet. Her eyes never left the stallion who had made his turn and was charging back. Chrysta crouched slightly and sidestepped as the beast reached her, barely avoiding those snapping jaws. As El Diablo's speed carried him past, she stepped forward. One hand buried itself in the flying white mane and one hand caught the harness that held her sword. The stallion's forward momentum jerked her off of her feet and up. With a quick twist of her hips, the rider landed back in the saddle. El Diablo screamed his frustration as she wrestled him around and put him back on the path.

As they topped the ridge, Azra made a pass that put him close enough to feel the heat coming off of the stallion. He could see that Chrysta's mail seemed to have protected her a little but the sound of her breathing in the transmitter was ragged. Her movements as she kept up with her mount's constant antics had lost some of their fluidity. The outrider lifted, then dropped in a slow curving glide over the valley. There were three riders far enough ahead on the course that the dust of their passing was just starting to settle. A couple of driving thrusts with his wings and the demon gained some altitude. He turned back just as El Diablo shook his head violently and slid to a stop. Chrysta stuck with him this time. Her hiss of pain ended in a sharp, gurgling cough. Azra was hurtling back when he realized that the silver was just standing, nostrils flared as his sides heaved for breath, looking over Paradise Valley.

The demon heard Chrysta murmur.

“There... you dumb ass. THAT is what you are well on your way to losing.”

Shifting all four reins to one hand, the rider worked at getting the pouch at her side open with the other. Azra folded his wings and rolled so he was moving backwards through the air. When his speed dropped to almost zero, his wings opened so he could hover. Chrysta had her hand over her mouth, her body slightly doubled while she coughed again. As her green eyes lifted to catch the demon’s concerned gold ones, she shook her head slightly and smiled.

The woman re-arranged the reins in her hands and tried to turn the big silver back to the path. El Diablo resisted for a moment, his intelligent green eyes studying the valley. That icy gaze drifted over to the hovering form of the outrider. Then the stallion's head twisted back to analyze the woman on his back. Chrysta stared him down. If she was worried about her ability to stick with the big animal, she didn't show it. His head snaked back around and El Diablo suddenly reared. His guttural challenge echoed over the peaceful valley. Those mighty front hoofs didn't even return to earth before the beast twisted and launched himself into a driving gallop.

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Link to next chapter
https://steemit.com/fiction/@fetherhd/to-race-the-wylde-wynd-ch-34