To Race the Wylde Wynd Ch. 20

Chrysta was finishing up her breakfast when Grant ambled over and let her know that the stable hand had the drafters ready to go. She glanced at Templer who had contented himself with only coffee.

“Well," Her smile was warm. “You two have already had a busy morning. Do you feel like riding along today, or do you have other plans?”

The woman's eyes twinkled at him. That immediately put him on his guard. Templer stretched a little, amazed at how GOOD he felt. Normally, after an Azra excursion, he was too wiped to do anything but rest.

“EXACTLY... what are you, or more precisely... we, going to be doing?”

HA... Templer Constantine wasn't born yesterday. The infuriating woman would not get the best of him this time. The priest ignored his outrider's dark chuckle at this thought. Chrysta turned her cup in her hands absentmindedly.

“The first thing I have planned is the draft competitions. Don Ricardo's team is entered in the weight pulling contest. And I have a team competing in the precision driving.” She smiled and glanced over at the Talon. “The precision driving requires a driver and a passenger. Andrew hates taking the time to just ride along. He has a lot to do just getting everyone primped and hitched. I am SURE he wouldn't mind if you took his place.”

“All I have to do is ride along?”

Templer thought hard about it before breaking down and asking Azra's opinion. The demon had a lot more practice when dealing with devious females than he did. (He hoped)

“What do YOU think Azra?”

“HMMM... well, it SOUNDS innocent enough. Although I wonder what she means by getting everyone primped. I assume she means the destria? I don't know... it might be...fun?”

The hesitancy present in his outrider's voice inspired no confidence what so ever in the priest. CRAP... He thought before giving his answer, the woman is making BOTH of us paranoid.

“We don't have anything planned. I can ride along if it helps out.”

Constantine flinched when the woman across from him flashed him a shark like smile as she caught the uncertainty in his tone. He had the sinking feeling they had just made a BIG mistake. Templer tried to ignore Azra's uncomfortable squirming in his mind as he followed her out to the courtyard.

“AZRA, stop it! If you were that worried about this, you should have said something when I asked.”

“SORRY!”

The demon almost sounded panicked as Chrysta glanced back at them. Her smile got even broader.

True to his word, Andrew had the two huge drafters hitched and waiting patiently for their driver. A smaller, lighter built team was tethered to the back of the wagon. These were covered with soft blankets to keep them clean until their event. Chrysta swung up into the high seat and indicated that Templer should sit next to her. Gathering up the reins, she glanced around as Andrew climbed into the back.

“Constantine here has volunteered for the precision shotgun position today, so you are off the hook.”

The look of relief that crossed the young man's face and his heartfelt, “REALLY, that's GREAT!” ... Did nothing for the gunman's worried state of mind.

Chrysta released the brakes.

“Hyup, Jeremy! Hyup Joshua!”

As she called each drafter's name their heads came up, and they moved forward taking the slack out of the traces. Their driver flicked the reins across their broad backs and with a sharp “Get up boys,” ... they were rumbling out on to the street.

The drafter barn was a mad house of huge destria, teams of men, and dust. As soon as they pulled in, Andrew took the two smaller drafters and tied them in separate stalls. He then unhooked Jeremy and Joshua from the wagon and led them out to be tied in their designated slot, waiting for the pulls to start. Chrysta went with them and spent quite a bit of time with the young stable hand going over every inch of the two massive animal's harnesses.

Templer concentrated on just observing the remarkably ordered chaos and staying out of the way. As he watched, the gunman realized, although the drafters were known to be much more "sedate" than the average destria, they were far from trustworthy. Hell, their sheer size alone made them very dangerous. Chrysta was called away a couple of times to deal with injuries caused by distracted people getting surprised by unruly destria. One man had his hand crushed and torn wide open when he made the mistake of wrapping a lead rope around it and the big mare he was leading stepped on the end and threw her massive head up. Chrysta expertly cleaned and wrapped it but the tough old man wouldn't agree to go see the town doc until after the competition.

One young man got caught by a surprise blow from a monstrous, cloven hoof. He was carried out, covered by a sheet. His entire chest had been caved in, his death was instantaneous. The priest just shook his head in amazement as Chrysta ducked in and out amongst the big animals, helping out where she was needed. Even the nastiest of the drafters seemed to calm when she was near them. There was more than one envious glance towards Don Ricardo's team. Joshua and Jeremy just stood hip shot and watched the activity with what looked like amusement on their long faces.

A large crowd had gathered by the time the competition started. This was one of the more popular of the festival's events. Chrysta and Andrew gathered Templer up when they took the team out to the arena. Andrew convinced the gunman to wager on Don Ricardo's team even though there were a couple of teams on the lists that were bigger. Chrysta winked at him as she passed,

“Sometimes,” she grinned slyly, “Size isn't everything.”

The contest rules were simple. Each team was hooked to a sled loaded with large concrete blocks. The pulls started with three thousand pounds of weight. Every team had two tries, at each weight, to pull the sled thirty feet. The weight increased with each round.

At first all the teams had no problems making their pull. As the weight slowly crept up over the five-ton mark some of them started dropping out. By the time the weight rose to ten tons, the field was narrowed down to four teams. There was a huge set of solid blacks, a smaller set of lovely dappled gold destria with black manes and tails and black striping on their legs. Chrysta's team of bays was about midway between those two teams in size and the last team was an evil tempered, massive set of dappled gray twins. These monstrous destria belonged to Don Diego and their handler was none other than the redhead, Rafe.

Eleven tons was the limit for the smaller team and they dropped out after moving the load twenty feet. The judges increased the load to thirteen tons. The Blacks danced and jived at the line. When their stable hand fumbled the lich pin they took off, yanking the driver from his seat and dragging him face first through the dirt a good fifteen feet before he got them stopped. By the time he wrestled them back to the line they were foaming with sweat and frothing at the mouth. This time when the pin dropped they surged forwards but the sled ground to a halt at the halfway mark. Their competition was at an end. Don Diego's team moved the load the full distance with Rafe liberally applying the whip. Chrysta's pair dug in and moved it with little difficulty.

When the judges upped the weight to fifteen tons a murmur swept through the crowd. If either team could make the distance, they would set a record. Chrysta and Andrew had a hushed conversation, and then she walked around her team. She ran her hands over their sweaty necks and haunches. Using her sensitive fingers, she carefully checked each animal's legs. When she finished, Chrysta quietly stood at their heads. Both drafters dropped their muzzles down and seemed to be sharing breathes with her. The woman gave a determined nod, and with a final pat on soft noses she turned to watch Rafe's pull.

The redhead backed his team as far as they could go. He started flipping their back legs and rumps with his whip while holding them tight with the reins. After few moments of this both animals were dancing in place and bloody foam flew from their mouths. His stable hands dropped the lich pin and Rafe cracked the pair hard. Both beasts launched forward and hit their collars with brutal force. The crowd was remarkably silent. The only sounds were the crack of Rafe's whip, his shouted curses, the harsh grunts of the drafters, and alarming creaks and pops coming from the destria's harnesses and drag chains. With small jerks, the load started to move. The massive grays had their heads down. Their shoulders were low and straining as they moved forward one hard fought step at a time. Even with their supreme effort the sled came to a stop on the eleven-foot mark. Rafe laid the whip on hard leaving long bleeding welts on their steaming hides. The judges frowned but did not interfere. Both red eyed drafters strained in their harnesses, trying to give their handler what he wanted. A wave of blood burst from the off animal’s nostrils.

Templer heard Chrysta as she angrily muttered,

“Any time now!”

As she said this, the near animal screamed and violently exploded. Harnessed as he was, the drafter couldn't go anywhere. The beast made his displeasure known by rearing and bucking in place while kicking as hard as he could at the sled and his handler. Rafe baled off as the second animal enthusiastically joined in. The ground shuddered under the team's combined weight as their harness started to come apart. Templer wondered how they would get the two back under control as no one dared approached them. What the two enraged animals were capable of once they fought free was something he did not want to think about.

Chrysta stood quietly and just watched until a judge drew a large caliber pistol. Then the Talon saw her suck in a breath and stiffen. Her eyes flashed to red as she did the impossible and "Locked" down two destria whose minds were unfamiliar to her. Both animals froze, twitching and shaking. They stayed that way as several handlers got them unhitched and positioned between two other big drafters. When Chrysta released her "lock" sagging a little, the exhausted team was dragged reluctantly out of the arena. Rafe exited with the boos and jeers of the audience ringing in his ears.

They gradually quieted as Chrysta led Joshua and Jeremy out to the repositioned sled. All she had to do was get them over the eleven-foot mark to win. If her team could somehow make the full thirty feet, it would be something worth seeing. The woman backed the team in and Andrew dropped the lich pin. She kept backing them until they stood with the traces slack, back heels almost touching the front of the sled. Then she just sat for a moment and Templer could see her mouth moving as she talked to the drafters. The atmosphere was electric in the arena, the silence complete as she tightened her reins. Both destria tensed.

“COME GEE, Joshua!”

The soft words echoed in the quiet, and both drafters surged to the right. The sled jerked sideways a fraction.

“COME HAW, Jeremy!”

Again the drafters shifted, slamming hard to the left. The sled broke free from the dirt holding it. The load was up and moving. Chrysta straightened them out and her voice cracked out as loud as Rafe's whip,

“HYUP! HYUP! HYUP NOW... MOVE IT OUT BOYS!”

Massive rump muscles rolling and rippling, the big beasts dropped their shoulders throwing their considerable weight against the load. Their huge cloven hoofs dug in and with the sound of chains and leather popping under the strain, the sled picked up speed. A murmur of sound rolled through the arena and started to build as they passed the eleven-foot mark. Both Joshua and Jeremy were now foaming along their necks and sides. Froth was gathering around their mouths.

Templer could see Chrysta gathering her reins in preparation to stop the team. She was content with just the win. Jeremy, the oldest of the pair snorted, shook his massive horned head and snatched the bit between his teeth. His partner screamed a challenge, and the team surged in unison as they redoubled their efforts. The crowd roared as the pair continued to pull almost down on their front knees. The noise solidified in to a chant. "GO! GO! GO!"

Templer realized with a start he was hollering with the rest of them. The Drafters passed the twenty-foot mark. Azra was shouting in Templer's mind, GO GO GO. The destria couldn't hear him but Chrysta could. Chrysta shrugged and her HYUP! HYUP! Joined in. The driver knew she was just along for the ride now. They passed the twenty-five-foot line, and the noise was now deafening. As they crossed the thirty-foot mark, the crowd literally came unhinged, clapping screaming and stomping. Hats sailed into the arena as enthusiastic fans threw them.

“WHOA!”

Chrysta hauled back on the reins determined to stop the team and they responded by immediately grinding to a halt. She was off of the high seat in a heartbeat, unbuckling and unsnapping the harnesses from the trembling giants. Their super-heated breath steamed in the air like dragon's breath. Heat rolled off of their bodies in waves, rising from their sweating hides. Templer and Andrew joined the woman in peeling off the leather and collars until the bays wore only their headstalls. Their two handlers got them moving in a staggering walk. Chrysta made the team traverse the arena, allowing them time to cool without seizing up. The crowd came to its feet in a standing ovation. Both drafters responded... arching muscled necks, flagging their cropped tails and high stepping like young colts. Chrysta's face broke in a huge smile as she affectionately slapped Jeremy on his heavy shoulder. Even after they had exited the arena and entered the drafter's barn, the sound of applause still echoed in their ears.

Chrysta turned the team over to a couple other stable hands. Andrew hurriedly departed, muttering something about getting the others ready. The young man handed Templer a neatly wrapped package as he passed, ducking his head to hide the smile playing around his lips. The Talon looked at Chrysta suspiciously.

“What's this?”

The woman had a package of her own, and she snagged the gunman's elbow leading him towards a row of doors.

“Oh... didn't I tell you?” She attempted to sound innocent.

“There is a dress code for the precision driving. Andrew is close to your size so that should fit pretty well.”

Templer realized the doors opened to dressing rooms. Before he could react or say another word, Chrysta abandoned him in front of one room and disappeared into another. Her parting words of, “See you in a minute.” Came from behind the already closed door and it sounded like she was trying to smother laughter. The priest stood perfectly still for a full minute trying to think of a way to get out of this.

“Suck it up!” Azra growled, “We told her we would do this.”

With a sigh the gunman slipped into the dressing room and locked the door. He almost bolted out of it when he opened the package and saw his soon to be attire. It consisted of formal dress from a forgotten age. There were tight pants. Actually, calling them pants was stretching it... they were tights. Knee high close fitting boots of soft leather that laced up the calf fit over these. A white, loose fitting long sleeved blouse with stitched metallic dragons coiling around the wrist cuffs, and a tight, knee length sleeveless overcoat finished the outrageous outfit. The boots and pants were a deep unrelenting crimson. The overcoat was the same deep red. Embroidered, glimmering gold and crimson dragons intertwined and weaved their way over every inch of its surface. There was also a crimson and gold tiara woven into the shape of intertwined dragons. This was meant to be worn on his head.

“Crap, this is bad!” Was all the man could think.

“Hmmm... I think I have seen garments like these before.”

Azra sounded thoughtful so Templer held his silence while the outrider tried to access the memory. “Damn... I can't quite reach it... but I think I have enough...” The demon sounded confident but there was also a devious note running through his voice.

“Relax Host... let me show you how this is done!”

Chrysta (or Andrew) had gathered a small crowd of stable hands together by the time Templer stepped out of that little room. What started out as anticipatory snickers faded to complete silence except for a couple of indrawn breaths. For a moment, the man just stood as all eyes targeted him. Azra had shown him how to lace, tuck and tweak the odd clothes until they clung to him like they were tailored to his tall form. The blouse and long tunic emphasized his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and well-formed butt. The boots and pants showed every line of his long, hard muscled legs. Azra had suggested that Templer use the tiara to sleek down and hold back his flowing raven hair. Its bright metal caught the light like flames, making the dragons look like a living crown. With his pale skin, coldly regal features, and ebony eyes, the people who watched remembered uneasily that at one time, Dragon-Lords had walked amongst them.

The Talon ignored the crowd, focusing in on Chrysta. She wore a more feminine version of the same outfit. Azra made some minute physiological adjustments causing Templer's dark eyes to flash to gold. The woman stood silent, full lips parted, as he closed the distance between them. Azra had partial control, and he showed the priest how to change his already graceful walk into a sexually charged, flowing prowl. The outrider also released tendrils of sensuality to flow along his and Chrysta's partial link. By the time they reached the motionless woman, her eyes had gotten huge and shifted colors to a stormy green. She seemed to have difficulty swallowing. When they were directly in front of her, Azra took over. The outrider preformed a slow, sensual court bow while he raised Chrysta's limp hand to his mouth for a courtly kiss. She shuddered as his warm breath and soft lips were followed by a sharp nip than a casual sweep of his tongue on her wrist's pulse point. When he looked into her eyes they were glazed and she was swaying slightly. Templer couldn't conceal the self-satisfied smirk that slid across his lips.

“GOTCHA...” Azra purred.

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Link to next chapter
https://steemit.com/fiction/@fetherhd/to-race-the-wylde-wynd-ch-21