To Race the Wylde Wynd Ch. 18

Templer sat with his feet propped on the window sill until the first blush of the false dawn topped the horizon. He spent the long hours turning over all the facts and implications that the night's events had brought up. Contemplation did not make his recovered memories any easier to stomach. After studying them from every possible angle, the priest finally pushed them to the back of his mind. With his Vows intact, it was impossible to bring that horrifying fragment into any kind of context that made sense. His mental balance was shaky enough that if was safer to just let the matter lie. His outrider remained present but thankfully kept his silence, giving his host the space needed to come to terms with his restless thoughts. The gunman was thankful for illusion of privacy but he was also sure it was not entirely for his benefit. The demon just didn't want to disturb their sleeping roommate. Somehow, the seasoned woman sparked a carnal hunger that the demon had NEVER shown in the presence of young, nubile human females. (Or males for that matter!)

Templer glanced over at the duvet. Chrysta had rolled over and kicked one leg out from under the quilt. The soft material of her nightwear rode up, exposing a shapely ankle and slim, well-muscled calf. His thoughts turned to how... arousing... those powerful legs and firm butt had felt straddling his hips when she had him pinned him that morning. Hnnn... Sharp talons drummed a soft rhythm on the arm of the chair. It was possible that the demon was NOT the only one interested!

The sound of someone coming up the stairs brought the priest's attention back to the present. He could tell by the heavy tread that it was Grant. A soft knock on the door and the smell of fresh coffee had Chrysta throwing her cover back. She was blinking herself awake by the time Templer rose to open it.

The big man gave him an apologetic look as he entered.

“Sorry to disturb you at this ungodly hour, but Chrysta wanted to take El Diablo on a good run before the crowds are up and about.”

The grim look he sent in the general direction of the duvet showed what he thought of this plan. The barman deftly set his tray down on the table and put the bundle of clean clothes and leathers he was carrying under the other arm next to it.
Chrysta limped over to help herself to a cup of the steaming black coffee. She threw the older man a hard look as she scooped up the bundle of clothes in her other hand and went to shut herself in the bathroom.

“This day is going to be bad enough without you giving me a hard time, Grant.”

The man winced at the sharp edge in her voice. For a moment the room was silent, then Temple heard a soft sigh from the other side of the door. Chrysta opened it back up.

“I am sorry. What do you expect me to do? I can't just leave him to rot in a small paddock all of his life. It would make the bastard crazier than he already is.”

The softness of her words went a long way towards soothing the sting of the harsh ones.

Templer could see the concern written all over the bartender's face as he relented.

“At least take someone with you.”

The respect that Chrysta had for the man showed in the fact that she actually thought about it for a minute. Then she dashed his hopes with a slow shake of her head.

“I've got no other mount who can match the pace I can hold him to. Nuva or Zephyr would kill themselves trying to keep up.”

She gently smiled at the big man.

“Stop worrying momma hen! I have been doing this for years and MOST of the time I have managed to stay ahead of him. Now, go on downstairs. You can bet I will be hungry when I get back.”

She made shooing motions at him and closed the door.

Grant cocked his head at Templer, a silent invitation for the gunman to follow him down to the common room. Once there, it was the gunman's turn to wince when the usually quiet man slammed a fist down on the bar. His voice was a low hiss, pitched so only the Talon could hear it.

“Momma hen my ASS! Damn it... I HATE that S.O.B! It's not Chrysta staying AHEAD of him I am worried about.”

He faced Templer and his mild brown eyes were dark with distress.

“Chrysta should NEVER take him out by herself. She was very lucky bringing him in alone the other night.”

Grant met the priest's steady gaze and held it.

“I have no right to ask this of you. I know you have rules about what you can and can't do. But for the sake of all that is holy... please don't let her take that monster out alone. I have never seen Chrysta get thrown. If any destria can do it, it's that one. She has told me herself that even the best riders get drilled into the dirt on occasion. If that bastard unloads her while they are out by themselves... Chrysta is as good as dead!”

Azra, who remained quiet during this astonishing speech gave the gunman an ungentle mental nudge.

“Constantine, I can match El Diablo's speed.”

Templer was amazed when he seriously considered the demon's offer as he watched Chrysta come down the stairs. She was making minute adjustments to the padded leather vest designed to protect her chest and vulnerable stomach. He kept his voice low so that only Grant could hear him.

“Didn't you mention that the town has had some... incursion... problems from the Waste recently?”

The look the man flashed him was priceless.

“You SNEAKY bastard! Why... YES... I believe I might have mentioned something along those lines.”

The bartender's sudden smile included Chrysta as the woman joined them. She flashed the two men a suspicious look and quietly set her empty cup on the bar. Still smiling a rather shark like smile, Grant just as silently filled it for her. With a soft sigh Chrysta took her cup and headed out into the courtyard. As Templer followed, he heard Grant banging around in the kitchen. From the stiff set of Chrysta's shoulders, she could hear him too. The priest was not surprised when the man slipped out the door and joined him in watching her slim form disappear into the barn.

He WAS surprised when she re-appeared and turned Nuva loose into El Diablo's paddock. The old mare immediately started pushing the big silver towards the heavy fence. To Templer's amazement the stallion allowed it. He turned to the other man with a questioning look.

Grant smiled tightly.

“Nuva has been Chrysta's lead mare since El Diablo first came here. No matter how old he gets, he will always defer to her.”

Chrysta stood on the outside of the paddock. She had thrown her gear up on the top rail and waited patiently as the two animals circled the enclosure twice. Nuva stayed on the inside slowly pushing the stallion until he was moving right against the fence. As they reached the post where the woman waited, the mare leaned in hard, using her body to pin the male against the fence. He reacted by tossing his head high and trying to back up. Before he succeeded in this, Chrysta reached in and clipped a stout rope to the collar right behind his heavy ridge. The beast gave an unhappy, rumbling cough and popped his fangs. Between having his head snugged to the post and with the mare's considerable weight leaning into his shoulder, El Diablo was effectively immobilized.

Chrysta opened the gate. As she approached, Nuva shifted her body so her chest was against the stallion's shoulder. Her neck and ridged head bridged over his heavy neck. El Diablo would have to go through her to use his mouth or horns on his trainer. It was interesting that as Chrysta worked around the dangerous animal, her limp totally disappeared.

From there it took the competent woman just minutes to get the unhappy animal brushed and saddled. He tried once to kick her while she checked and filed his sharp hooves. An angry rumble and Nuva's sharp fangs on his crest were enough of a warning that the stallion allowed it to be done.

Templer wondered how she would get the bridle on to the dangerous, horned and fanged head. It concerned him when Nuva stepped back and Chrysta unloosed the rope from the post. El Diablo started to swing around, only to freeze, every limb trembling as if it was locked unwillingly in place.

The priest heard Grant mutter behind him,

“Gotcha, you big ugly bastard!”

At Templer's raised eyebrows the big man smiled grimly.

“She is using her link with him to lock him down. It takes a lot of concentration and she can only do it for a few seconds at a time.”

Those few seconds were all that the woman needed to get the bridle on and get centered in the saddle. It was easy to tell the second she released her hold. The stallion screamed an angry challenge and reared, twisting and clawing at the sky. Chrysta brought him back down with difficulty. As she wrestled him towards the gate, Templer came to an abrupt decision. He stepped forward, trying to ignore all of his training and experience. The Talon could not believe he was going to do this.

“We have heard that there have been problems in the area which fall within our jurisdiction. I am on vacation but Azra is feeling very restless. He would like to know if you think El Diablo will tolerate him coming along for a fast reconnaissance flight.”

Constantine did his best to look innocent. Not an easy feat considering he didn't know who was more astonished... Azra, Chrysta, or himself!

The woman slashed a quick suspicious glance at Grant who immediately raised his hands in defense.

“Hey, don't point that dirty look in my direction! This momma hen doesn't KNOW anyone named Azra!”

This earned him a snort of strained laughter as the woman gave in.

“I don't see as how it would be a problem. Azra... it will be up to you to keep up. I will NOT have the attention to spare to keep track of where you are at.”

Her husky voice was a little breathless at the physical effort needed to control the big silver. El Diablo had all four feet jigging in place. His head was bowed tightly against the bit, his fanged muzzle almost touching his chest. The veins and tendons stood out on the backs of Chrysta's hands, a blatant sign of how much strength it was taking to keep stallion from ripping the four reins out of them.

“UNDERSTOOD!”

The outrider could not conceal his anticipation as he pushed forward towards release.

Templer barely had time to warn the demon.

“You had better NOT leave me in the barn again!”

The Talon was not encouraged by the evil snicker that echoed through his mind as Azra pushed his consciousness totally under.

With a quick nod, Chrysta relaxed the reins. El Diablo shot through the gate and disappeared out of the courtyard. Grant backed up against the door as Templer's body dissolved into scarlet mist only to be re-Made into the dark, winged form of Azra. One dismissive, golden eyed glance at the man and the demon took to the air. The innkeeper couldn't help but smile when he heard a couple of startled screams from the street. The few early risers that were out, got a double shock as El Diablo thundered by, followed closely by the embodiment of a black winged, airborne nightmare.

Chrysta kept the stallion in a firmly controlled hand gallop as they made their way through town. From his vantage point above, the demon could tell that El Diablo was not keeping to the slower pace because he wanted to. He had his mouth gaped open trying to duck away from the bit. Every time he tried to slip one way or the other, the woman used the pressure of her strong legs to prevent it. Frustrated, the angry animal snaked his head back trying to take a bite out of one of those legs. Azra noticed for the first time that the saddle had rolled leather guards. These protected her thighs and gave the rider some extra leverage for sudden direction changes. Chrysta thumped the silver's sensitive nose as it came around and the beast hastily put it back out in front... where she could not reach it.

As they cleared the edge of town, Chrysta turned her mount down a beaten track. El Diablo's stride opened up. The demon suddenly understood her warning about having to keep up. He was a high altitude flier. His size and the span of his wings made low level runs tiring, difficult, and in this case... downright dangerous. With a snarl, he pumped his wings harder, catching up to the pair with just enough speed to glide ahead for a moment. As he passed over them, the stallion tossed his head. His flowing mane rippled in the wind like a silver flame. Those feral ice green eyes connected with the outrider's golden ones and a challenge was issued. Before responding to it, Azra spared a glance at the beast's rider. She flashed him a grim smile, flattened out across the stallion's shoulders and loosened the reins another notch. El Diablo surged ahead. The demon decided to keep the contest purely physical. He knew that he could draw on his otherworldly abilities and win this easily but there would be no challenge in that. He was soon second guessing this decision.

Chrysta proved to be a sneaky individual. She knew this ground and used it to El Diablo's every advantage. The path they were on twisted and turned. Azra's speed was limited because he had to slow and bank to make the corners. The big silver utilized cat like reflexes and flying lead changes to negotiate the turns and switchbacks. They hardly slowed him at all. The rider also tucked the animal in between and around rock outcroppings that the demon had to work to avoid. As they topped the ridge Azra was behind. He gained on the downside as Chrysta had to rein in hard, shifting the destria's center of balance backwards. El Diablo slid down the hill on his striped ass!

As the ground leveled out the stallion stepped it up another notch, covering ground with huge, oily strides. With open air in front of him Azra closed the gap. If the speeding pair made the trees ahead of him he would have to soar up and he would lose ground. The thought crossed his mind as golden eyes tracked the racing pair, that if the destria was to lose his footing at this speed, neither one would get up from the resulting fall.

When the demon pulled even with them, he could see that Chrysta was working hard to slow their headlong pace. The woman had no intentions of letting El Diablo take her into the trees. The stallion was shaking his head and ducking from side to side trying to unbalance his rider. Chrysta stayed centered on him letting her legs, knees and hips absorb the impact of the sudden changes in direction. She managed to turn her mount parallel to the trees. Azra soared and banked to make the turn with them. A soft curse escaped his lips. From his higher vantage point the airborne racer saw what the distracted stallion could not. A massive dead tree had fallen across the speeding animal's path. The demon did not have the time to warn the rider but Chrysta saw it at almost the last minute. She buried her heels in El Diablo's sensitive sides. This got his attention, and she somehow gathered him up before they hit. El Diablo launched himself skyward, front legs tucked, hind legs stretch high and behind. For the first time in his long existence Azra witnessed an earthbound, wingless creature truly fly. The silver soared over the huge log as if he was riding on the wind. He landed lightly on the other side slipping a little in the soft debris.

Using the fact that he was out of balance against him, Chrysta pulled the stallion into a tight circle, slowing the beast until she had him back in a controlled hand gallop. She flashed a tired smile at the hovering demon, guided her mount around the fallen tree and headed back the way they had come.

Azra could not believe the amount of ground they had covered. By the time Chrysta had wrestled the stallion back to just outside of town, a little over an hour had passed and the sun was well above the horizon. She brought him to a halt with difficulty and motioned for Azra to land. He didn't mind doing so as this type of low level flying was tiring. As he approached the pair the outrider was again hit with the same wave of rage, hate, and despair that El Diablo had overwhelmed him with their first meeting. He did not think that his metabolism would allow him to dry heave, but that is what getting hit with the emotional punch made him feel like doing. The demon was thankful when Chrysta put up a shield, blocking the destria's access to his mind.

“Not pleasant, is it?”

The woman was out of breath and her face had the same sick look on it that Azra was sure had been on his face just a moment ago.

“He does that the entire time I am anywhere nearby. It makes working with him twice as unpleasant as it should be.”

She glanced towards the town.

“We might cause less of a scene if you go in low and from the back. There are a few towns people just dumb enough to panic and take a shot at you.”

The woman started El Diablo forward.

“I will meet you in the courtyard.”

It took little time with the help of Azra's strength and speed to get the stallion unsaddled and settled back into his paddock. Nuva remained with him, making the hot, tired male walk in circles until he cooled off. Chrysta balanced herself against the gate. As she rubbed her forehead, Azra reached out and caught her hand gently in his own clawed one. Spreading it open he silently studied her calloused palms and where the reins had run between her fingers. They were red, raw and bruised. She hissed as he traced the red marks with one careful talon.

“Is this the way it is every time you deal with him?” He growled. If looks could kill the destria stud would have rolled belly up...

“Stop it!” Chrysta drew his attention back to her.“He wasn't too terribly bad today...”

Her voice trailed off as a motion by the door caused the demon to spin around. Grant was there drying his hands on a towel. He didn't flinch as he steadily met Azra's golden gaze.

“You realize that if you don't let her get up to her bath, she is going to end up in the dirt any minute now?”

Startled, Azra looked back at the woman and realized that she was balanced with all of her weight centered on her good leg. Her movements had been so swift and graceful while dealing with the rogue destria he had forgotten about her crippled leg. Before she could protest, the demon scooped her up. Ignoring her surprised yelp, he took off and hovered at the open window. The outrider helped her crawl through and then followed her in. The frame was a tight fit for his larger form. As he straightened up, Chrysta was already staggering toward the bathroom. The demon caught the smell of dreamleaf as she turned the water on.

When he looked in the small room the woman was sitting on the edge of the tub looking too tired to even get undressed. The demon didn't blame her. He had a feeling that Constantine was going to be in much the same shape when he awoke. At that moment a perfectly wicked thought rolled through his brain. Chrysta's head snapped up at the nasty chuckle that emanated from him. By the time Azra finished explaining what he wanted to do, she was snickering just as evilly. Holy... he LIKED the way this woman's mind worked!
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