Balkind's wings effortlessly took them higher and higher, until the Manor Hall was just a smudge of yellow amongst a green background, surrounded by a denser darker greenery of tree tops. Chantress Anderra could no longer be seen, but Neb could imagine the expression on her face. He twisted around to face the front; but he need not have worried about guiding his griffin. Balkind was intent on catching up with his companions and flew straight and true. They were flying higher and faster than Neb had ever been before. He felt giddy with freedom and whooped out-loud.
Balkind's flight feathers cut through the air, a gentle swoosh-swoosh sound. Neb drew breath after breath deep into his lungs, wanting to savour every second. His hands rested lightly on the large veins emerging from the griffin's shoulders. Under his palms, two ancillary hearts pumped blood around an intricate network of capillaries, inflating feathered flaps of skin into wings. In flight, a griffin's ancillary heart rate went from barely ticking over to the tempo of a drum tattoo. Right now, it felt as though two butterflies continuously fluttered under Neb's hands, in a desperate bid to escape.
He looked down. The griffin's starboard wing filled his vision. It shimmered against the air like a triangular sail. The shorter side curled around his thigh, providing warmth, security and comfort. Below Balkind's pewter grey feathers, a duller grey of the ocean glittered against the metallic grey of granite cliffs. Neb peered to his left. Again Balkind's wing filled his vision, this time outlined against a verdant green. The glorious feeling of freedom increased, filling his senses with joy. With Balkind, he felt invincible. He straightened up on the griffin's back.
Far ahead he saw several dark blotches flying in the same direction and at roughly the same height. He gulped. It could only be Romulus and his new recruits. As the distance between Balkind and his fellow gryffants shortened, the enormity of what he had done hit home. For the first time in his life, he had directly disobeyed an order. An order given by Chantress Anderra who, together with the Griffin Master, had given him a chance far above his social status.
It's too late to turn back, and however loud Romulus shouts, Balkind deserves his chance too. Neb told himself. He sat up straighter, and pushed his palms against Balkind's primary veins in an upwards motion. Balkind responded by soaring higher and faster and Neb whooped with delight again. I don't care if I'm hung, drawn and quartered – this is worth my life. This is my life!
The thermals surrounding the Cherub Cliffs began to thin; Balkind's wing movements fell into a steady pattern of swipe and glide. Below them, the terrain sped by in a jumble of greens and browns: mostly woodlands with the occasional clearing. Sometimes the clearings bulged to encircle a village: faded yellow oblongs of thatched roofs, surrounding a copper penny of a pond. Field workers and villagers alike appeared to freeze as the griffin's shadow flittered over them. Neb guessed that they shaded their eyes to look up into the sky, while their children raced each other, pointing and shouting with excitement: 'Look – look – a griffin!' Or perhaps, Neb mused, having previously seen Romulus and his new recruits flying overhead, they shouted 'Look – look – another griffin!'
… I wonder if their mothers will tell them bedtime stories tonight about the lone griffin, and how it came to fall behind the rest of its troop. No-one had ever told Neb bedtime stories, and the idea intrigued him. If I ever have children, I'll tell them stories about "Balkind, the Naughtiest Griffin", he promised himself.
Ribbons of streams connecting one village pond to the next widened, collections of thatched roofs became more frequent, but otherwise, the landscape barely changed.
They flew on, the steady swish-swish of Balkind's wings against the air faded into the background. Neb wasn't concentrating on anything much, apart from concentrating hard on not thinking about what Romulus would have to say about "The Naughtiest Griffin Lad". Despite being alone and flying an inexperienced griffin over unknown territory, he fell into a daydream. Balkind headed in the right direction, they were far out of reach of any threat from ground, and nothing in the air – apart from another griffin – would dare attack.
An experienced griffin rider knows better; an experienced griffin rider knows that danger is always present. Nothing in this world or any other competes with the thrill of soaring through the skies on a griffin's back.
A thrill sharpened by the knowledge that one wrong move, one lapse in concentration can prove fatal – as Neb was about to discover.