[Untitled] - Part I
Speed.
Energy rushed through his body, the wind blew his hair from his face.
He watched the nearing edge of the cliff, just a hundred yards away. The motor-bike beneath him growled in anticipation, ready to hurl them both into the empty space beyond.
He glanced over at the rider to his right. She smiled at him, “You ready for this rookie?”
He smiled back, hiding anxiety behind forced bravado, “Ladies first.” The girl grinned, revved her bike to even greater speed and then, without a second of hesitation, charged her bike right over the cliff’s edge.
No looking back, no second thoughts, he reminded himself. He took a deep breath, his engine roaring in response, and then, there was no ground. Only sky filled his eyes, the perfect blue of a summer day in the Grasslands. He soared, perfectly content, for a few seconds, and then gravity started to regain its hold.
He was falling!
Falling
Falling
Fall…
Garion opened his eyes to the darkness of his room. He closed them again, trying to bring back the dream, but it was already slipping away. It had been the same dream as before; same dream, same ending. It always ended before he hit the ground. Did he make the fall? Did he even come close? What was the reason the dream never finished? Did he die?
Garion sighed at the thought. It wasn’t dying that bothered him, death was a constant companion to any one who lived on the Grasslands, it was the thought of failing in front of that girl; that beautiful girl that he’d never laid eyes on outside of this recurring dream. Who was she?
Garion rolled over to look out the window beside his bed; the Faux Moon hadn’t even gone down yet. “Ah, well. Not going to get any more sleep tonight.” He swung his legs over the side of his bed and reached for his riding gear piled against the wall. He laid the full set out on his bed, making sure that everything was there. Charcoal grey thermal, check; lined leggings, check; black, plated pants, check; black, plated vest, check; black, armored long coat, check. Garion picked up this last item and stroked the insignia plate on the breast; his father’s symbol, a howling cliff-wolf silhouette, shone faintly in the pale moonlight. This riding coat had been his father’s parting gift before he left on his Final Journey. Garion squinted his eyes shut, holding his emotions in check.
He dressed quickly, trying to distract himself. After the last buckle on the vest had been fastened, he donned the long coat and reached under the bed for his riding boots. Sitting on the bed, he tugged on the thick, wool socks that were inside and then shoved his feet into the heavy boots, pulling the laces tight. He stood up and looked around the room, searching for his gloves and goggles. These he found on the washstand beside the door. Garion looped the goggles over his head and then stuffed the gloves in the pockets of the long coat.
He strode to the door and gazed at his reflection in the mirror that hung on the back. He was tall, like his father. He had the same light grey eyes, the same lean build. His hair was dark brown, almost black, that he got from his mother. Garion turned, admiring the way the silver buckles of the vest and the insignia plate on the long coat caught the light. He smiled. Father, if only you could see me now.
Garion left his room, closing the door silently. He walked as softly as he could through the small house and then out the back door. If his mother or stepfather knew that he was riding this early they’d cut the wires of his bike engine as punishment. Scowling at the thought, Garion rounded the back of the house, and then he stopped short.
[to be continued]