To Race the Wylde Wynd Ch. 34

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Azra shot ahead of the pair. The other riders had stayed on the longer, easier path. None it seemed, wanted to risk the unknown in Splatter canyon. Gliding back, the outrider realized that El Diablo's gallop had changed. The stallion wasn't fighting his rider's hands every step of the way. As a result, his stride had become longer... Each movement more fluid. Some of the true speed that the stallion was capable of was coming through. With each huge, oily stride the rogue covered a little more ground. Chrysta was still holding him back, trying to make sure he had the stamina to finish strong. She had been given a bit of a respite. The sound if her breathing settled back to a more normal rhythm.

The woman turned the silver down the lower path. After a couple of strides, her head snapped up.

“Azra, something's not right at the entrance to the canyon.”

The outrider raced ahead, gaining altitude. The extra height gave him a clear view of a small group of racers blocking the path. It looked like they had found some of the ringers.

The demon snarled softly.

“Someone has planned an ambush for you and El Diablo.”

Chrysta slowed the stallion.

“SHIT!” This was followed by a softer. “How many are there?”

The demon took a quick head count.

“It looks like there are six of them. All seem to be carrying small arms.”

“REALLY... you don't see any rifles?”

The woman actually smiled. It was a wicked, nasty smile. It reminded Azra of the evil grin that El Diablo had sent his way at the start of the race.

“Well... it sucks to be them now... doesn't it?”

The woman drew her sidearm. With a quick flip of her wrist, she opened the chamber, checking that the weapon was fully loaded.
She then flipped it closed.

“Let's hope this bad boy remembers the battle training Ty gave him!”

Azra flinched as Chrysta dropped all four reins across the stallion's thick neck. This meant she was controlling the silver with her legs and body alone. El Diablo knew something was up. His deep, rumbling moan promised violence. The black and crimson sword whispered out of its sheath and seemed to become an extension of Chrysta's right hand. Now the outrider understood why she had trained herself to shoot with her offhand.

The woman shot a glance up at the winged shadow above her.

“You know... the rules state that you can't PHYSICALLY interfere with the race. It says nothing about not scaring the shit out of them.”

Azra's grin was just as wicked as hers as he shot up, climbing hard and fast. When he was far enough up that he wouldn't alarm the group, the demon banked to travel parallel to the bluff that the canyon split. The demon could see the other riders drawing their weapons as Chrysta and El Diablo broke out of cover and roared down the path. They held their fire, waiting for the pair to come into range. Azra rolled and folded his wings, leaving just enough surface for control. Then he dropped into a steep dive, picking up speed as he started his run along the bluff.

One minute, the waiting men were confidently watching the silver stallion's charge, knowing that they had the advantage in numbers. In the next, a savage roar from their left had them looking then screaming, as they jockeyed positions, trying to get away from the black winged nightmare that rocketed towards them on the wind. The ploy worked. Instead of running into the fire of six guns, the silver was fired upon by only two. The others frantically turned their weapons on Azra. He cursed as he felt the tug and pain of a couple of bullets finding their mark. Flaring his wings with a sharp CRACK, the outrider rolled over the ambushers. His speed along with the maneuver caused the rest of the flying lead to miss.

El Diablo held his ridged, horned head low as he charged. The heavy bone served as a shield, protecting his vulnerable neck and chest. He came in fast, ducking and dodging, responding to Chrysta's signals like a well-trained battle mount. Her beautiful sword licked out like black edged flame. In a move reminiscent of one of the Forsaken's legendary shadow-dancers, the woman deflected the other shots that the men had time to fire. Her gun sang out three times. The shots were deadly accurate even though she aimed on the run. Two bodies flipped off of their mounts and another destria reared. Twisting and screaming, the animal unseated its rider. The others had no time to re-group as a screaming, slashing juggernaut plowed into their midst.

One destria went down, the impact taking the animal clean off of its feet. Its unlucky rider had the misfortune of his having his face meet El Diablo's front hoof. He did not get up. The second rider turned his mount and brought his hand gun slamming down at Chrysta's head. She caught the blow on the muzzle of her gun. Using the same motion, she slashed sideways with the blades that were on her gun hand's gauntlet. Her attacker's throat opened, and he twisted away trying to staunch the flowing blood with his hands. Chrysta also lashed out with her foot driving the sharp edges there into the side of the man's destria. This animal had slammed against El Diablo, snapping and slashing with long black fangs. Squalling the injured beast fell back. The third stallion made the unwise mistake of engaging the enraged silver in battle.

Both animals reared shoulder to shoulder. Each tried to unbalance the other as their fang filled mouths snapped at soft throats and muzzles. El Diablo ducked sideways. The other beast staggered as he overbalanced. His rider whipped his gun around trying to get a bead on the vulnerable soft neck behind the silver's ridge and Chrysta's gun cracked one more time. The bullet peeled the man out of the saddle. The other stallion tried to disengage but El Diablo was relentless. His black horns hooked under the doomed beast's soft jaw, ripping through muscles and arteries. The silver lifted the entire front half of the other animal high into the air then he slammed the bleeding body into the dust. El Diablo tried to savage the fallen destria but Chrysta drove her heels into his sides. Her strong legs forced him off of his victim. With a frustrated scream he continued on into the canyon.

Splatter canyon was aptly named. Sheer rock walls rose up on either side of the rolling river. Its current ran swift and deep. There was a narrow path that had been cut into the cliff on the right, providing a treacherous passage along the gorge.

Azra soared, trying to find some lift. He did not like the narrow claustrophobic confines of this place. The racing pair was climbing as he passed. Chrysta sheathed the sword. The demon admired the skill it took to slide the slender blade home while the sheath and the rider were moving. She also holstered the gun as she directed the running stallion up the path.

“You NEED to re-load!”

Azra had been with his host long enough to know this was a basic gunslinger's rule.

“I need to watch were we are going more!”

Was the breathless response that came over the transmitter. The pair was moving at a ground eating pace, fifty feet above the rolling river. Chrysta had the four reins gathered back in both hands. Her upper body was positioned forward over the thick silver shoulders, helping to brace and balance the big animal on the rough path. She kept her gaze firmly ahead, looking for obstacles. The demon did not see her glance even once at the river below.

They came around a bend only to have the path disappear. Chrysta had time to shout "Son of a BITCH!" as she tried to rein El Diablo in. The silver shook his head and grabbed the dual bit between black fangs. He continued on without slackening his pace. Azra would have sworn the animal was part mountain goat as he flowed from ledge to rock to bare bump across the rock face. His cloven hooves slipped and slid as he scrambled for purchase, sending rocks rolling into the river below.

Chrysta kept up a panicked litany of curse words all the way across until the silver made it back to a solid path. El Diablo smiled a wicked Destria smile and pounded on.

The woman became very quiet. The only sound coming through the transmitter was her harsh gasps and an occasional grunt as she shifted with her mount. Azra passed almost level with them when they were one hundred feet above the river and she spared him a quick glance. Those green eyes were dark with fear, her jaws tightly clenched. The outrider remembered that Chrysta had a real fear of heights. The path leveled out a little allowing El Diablo's stride to open up again and the outrider had to work to keep up.

The path had started to drop back towards the roiling water when a rock shattered at head level with the woman. She flinched sideways in reaction.

“What in the hell was that?”

El Diablo grunted and jerked as something impacted on the dragon-mail covering his thick neck. Sparks flew as it ricocheted.

“SNIPER!”

Azra was looking but couldn't see anything on the opposite cliff. They couldn't hear any gunshots. Evidently the hidden gunner figured out that the mail would stop a regular round. When the next bullet came the armor across the silver's rump jumped, then split. A red furrow streaked across the thick muscle. The stallion screamed in angry protest.

“HOLY! Those are armor piercing rounds!! AZRA... that side is NOT part of the course. FIND him!”

The woman knew that they had no way to hide.

The outrider had been scanning the cliffs, but still couldn't pinpoint the sniper's location. His head snapped around as Chrysta grunted and jerked back. The mail along her ribs rippled.

“SHIT!”

Without hesitation, the woman jerked the big stallion's head around. Riding like all the hounds of hell were on their ass she drove El Diablo right off the cliff. The silver dropped. Hitting the water hard he promptly sank. Azra dropped with them, pulling up at the last moment. The demon ignored the threat from above, desperately looking for the pair. He saw that long silver head break the surface. The stallion's panicked green eyes looked into his own for a moment then the beast went under again. El Diablo was heavy boned. Destria were not designed as great swimmers. Add to this the weight of saddle plus armor and you had a perfect recipe for drowned devil!

Pain shot through Azra's left wing, dangerously close to the bone. He snarled and pumped to gain altitude as another bullet skimmed across his back.

“THERE!”

This time he was at the right angle to see the flash of a silenced rifle.

Azra headed for the spot, picking up speed with every powerful wing stroke. He shot along the river then soared up. As he passed the gunner on the cliff, the winged nightmare reached out and plucked him off with little effort. He continued to climb out of the canyon. The man screamed once as they shot over the flat tops of the bluff. When the outrider reached the peak of his climb he drew his victim up to where the man could get a good look at the golden eyed face of death.

It was the blond Temple Guard. The man had enough steel in his spine he tried to talk his way out of the situation.

“Oh man, Oh man, it’s nothing personal. I am just doing my job. DON'T kill me. I was just following orders. Constantine is a Talon. HE would understand... it’s nothing personal... you know.... I was JUST following orders!”

Azra hissed softly.

Hmmm.... Yes, Templer would totally understand your predicament.” The words deepened to an angry growl.“YOUR problem is... I...am NOT Constantine!!”

The outrider rolled, dropping into a steep dive. His strong arms turned the blonde so he could see the ground coming at them. At the last moment Azra released the screaming man while snapping his wings open with a sound like a cracked whip. The man continued on his trip to the ground while the demon's winged form shot up. The laws of momentum along with gravity gave the body a very satisfying crunch when it drilled into the hard ground.

Azra glided fast over the ground bleeding off some airspeed. He dropped over the edge back into the canyon. Golden eyes searched frantically for any trace of silver or crimson. They filled with relief when he finally spotted the stallion struggling in the rough water. Chrysta's head popped up alongside the destria and there was a flash of sunlight on wet metal. She was cutting every bit of armor off of the drowning beast, trying to lighten the load.

The struggling pair finally made it to where the path dipped down low enough that El Diablo could pull himself out. The woman held tight to the sword harness as he dragged her with him. Once out of the water Chrysta let go. She curled up on the damp bank. The sound of her coughing and retching was clear over the transmitter.

Azra was still too far away to help when El Diablo swung his massive head down hooking sideways with those wicked horns. He caught the woman just below the waist, twisted a little and lifted. Chrysta cursed breathlessly as the painful pressure made her body expel a lot of the water that her cracked ribs prevented her from coughing out. The silver ignored her protest, scooping her up so she could get her feet under her to lean against his warm side. The woman was still coughing as the stallion pushed her with his nose towards the stirrup. HE was ready to get back under way. The woman dragged herself back into the saddle and glanced up as Azra winged by. She pumped her fist once, and the battle stallion surged forward again in a hard gallop. The pair reached the end of the canyon, turning for home. There were only two other racers in sight. Azra realized they were at the point that he needed break off and return to the town. He dropped low over the flying beast.

“I have got to leave now. Are you okay?!”

He was more than a little concerned that Chrysta didn't seem to have the breath to answer. She just lifted one hand and twirled it before pointing towards home... letting the outrider know she had heard him. With a savage snarl the demon shot up and rocketed towards the town. He wanted to give Constantine the time he would need to be fully awake when she finished this run.

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link to next chapter
https://steemit.com/life/@fetherhd/to-race-the-wylde-wynd-ch-35