Once they had climbed the slope, Draco saw for the first time what lay beyond this side of the Academy. The paddocks, which began right next to the stables and stretched all the way to this spot, came to an abrupt end, giving way to various types of riding tracks. At the furthest point stood grandstands, which must have encircled the racecourse. A little closer were various cross-country courses equipped with all manner of obstacles. Further on were straight sprint sections, and closest to them were several fenced-off paddocks intended for beginners' riding lessons. And it was right in front of one such designated area that the tenth group was already waiting, along with their own mounts.
As soon as they were close enough, Instructor Taumaturge surveyed the beasts and the remaining cadets with undisguised irritation. She did not look particularly impressed, though that was probably her usual demeanour.
'I'll be calling out five people at a time,' she began without any preamble. 'Those selected are to enter the paddock and only attempt to mount their mount once the gate has been closed.' She placed her hand on the gate latch. 'The rest of you are to watch closely and learn from others' mistakes,' she snorted rather unpleasantly. 'Now, get to work!' She raised her voice and pushed the gate open. 'You!' She pointed at Draco, Noah, Adam, Sheth and Cedric. All five had their own mounts, a fact that didn't immediately occur to the dragon. Without giving it much thought, and under the instructor's piercing gaze, he led Fen towards the designated paddock.
Once they were inside, the instructor clapped her hands, presumably to get their attention, and raised her voice again.
'No showing off or unnecessary bravado,' she warned, wagging her sausage-like finger. 'Follow orders! That's all there is to it!'
Draco nodded instinctively, but he wasn't alone in doing so, as the other four followed his lead.
'Now, one by one, starting from the left, get into the saddle and wait where you are,' she commanded. 'Come on!' The shout seemed to escape her involuntarily, and all five of them jumped. The reptile realised too late that he was instinctively tensing his shoulders and tucking his head in slightly, as if bracing for a blow.
Urged on by the sparks-flying glare of Instructor Taumaturge, Adam scrambled into the saddle of his beast. The creature, resembling a green panther, stretched, sensing the weight on its back, which was no doubt familiar. Turning gently on the spot, it purred and finally settled into a stance with its paws slightly crouched, as if preparing to give chase. The others, as instructed, began to settle themselves onto the backs of their mounts as soon as the one ahead of them had finished.
As he mounted Fen, Draco felt a little more confident, and the view from above was reassuring. Moreover, the besse's clearly perceptible movements guaranteed support regardless of what was happening around them. The dragon took a deeper breath and, now calm, looked around. The other riders were also perched on the backs of their mounts, although not all of them looked particularly thrilled. This was especially evident in Adam's case, who wasn't exactly delighted by the amount of attention being paid to him.
Noah, on the other hand, seemed the least bothered by the situation. Even his wolven was behaving the most calmly, even docilely, although parthir wasn't even holding the reins. The reins simply lay on the saddle pommel. The beast reacted instinctively to the slightest movement of its rider and, to Draco's surprise, the wolven turned its head as if following Noah's gaze.
'Right. Now turn left and ride in single file at a slow pace.' The new command was met with an immediate response.
When Fenrir set off, he was clearly dissatisfied. Not only because of the slow pace, but also because of the confined space. Every now and then, the bess would turn his head towards the wider tracks and the open space between them. At such moments, the dragon tried to gently divert Fen's attention by giving the reins a slight tug. The rather disgruntled mount snorted wearily, but returned to keeping his distance from Cedric.
'Maybe something will come of you lot.' The instructor opened the gate and pointed to the area around the paddock where they were standing. 'Now you'll be riding around the area marked out by poles.' The reptile looked in the direction she indicated and only then noticed the thin poles topped with coloured ribbons, spaced out around the enclosed paddocks. He'd completely missed them earlier. 'Keep a steady pace. Each group spends time in the next sector, maintaining a constant speed. When a new group finishes preparing in the paddock, the previous one moves on to the next sector and increases its speed.' She waved her hand casually, roughly indicating the direction in question. 'The assistants will coordinate you.'
The dragon looked around, slightly surprised. He'd been certain that, apart from them and the tenth, there was no one else here, yet from behind the cadets emerged the stablehands who'd earlier helped them with the saddling.
'I don't want to hear any complaints, unauthorised conversations, and certainly no arguments with the assistants. Their word on the exercises is just as important as mine. And I'm not interested in your opinions.'
No one was going to argue. In both groups, it would have been hard to find any madmen who would dare to voice loud objections.
Following the instructions, they rode out of the paddock and politely made their way to the first sector. The stablehands had already taken up their positions around the course, and one of them approached Cedric.
'You'll go first and show them the route.' He held his hand out in front of the group. 'Start at a pace like you'd have in the paddock. From here to the yellow pole, turn in an arc, straight this way, another turn, repeat, and so on until the end.' The stable hand kept gesturing, explaining what the cadets were to do. With no room for manoeuvre, they nodded and set off in single file.
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The exercises were… tedious. Both for the mounts and for the cadets. After the first, rather slow section, they came to the second, where they were able to pick up the pace a little whilst practising sharp turns. The third and fourth sectors were very similar, as both involved avoiding obstacles, in the first case by slaloming around them, and in the second by jumping over them.
As they approached the final section, Draco was slowly beginning to lose patience, but a single, brief glance behind him was enough to remind him that for many people this was their first time on a warg and the start of their riding adventure. Only then did the somewhat painful memories of his own first attempts at riding Fen come flooding back to him. As he reflected on those moments, he calmed down and silently chided himself for his own lack of understanding towards the other cadets.
'Now, a short sprint.'
The dragon bucked in the saddle. He realised he'd zoned out and stopped paying attention to what was going on. He could only hope it hadn't been too obvious. However, given how hard Fenrir was putting his back into the exercises, his rider's lack of engagement might well have gone unnoticed.
'From the marker, diagonally to the one on the other side.' The stable hand pointed to show the route they were to follow. Every assistant did it the same way, so these instructions were hardly interesting either. 'On the other side, you're to stop, ride at a slow pace along the boundary line, and then sprint diagonally again. Understood?'
They nodded in unison.
'Off you go.'
Adam gently stroked his mount's neck and tightened the reins. The beast broke into a run and was almost immediately halfway along the diagonal. The cheetah-like creature was downright terrifyingly fast and agile. Draco had no desire whatsoever for a hostile encounter with its kind, even in his dragon form.
The scout had already slowed to a halt at the very end, whilst Cedric reined in his stallion and charged forward at a gallop. Although he was slower than Adam, their team leader achieved an excellent result, at least in Draco's eyes. The dragon was admittedly a novice, but he'd already had plenty of time to observe how the soldiers in Ed'heer rode.
It was his turn, and the reptile calmly guided the bess to the starting line. Fen, sensing his rider's intention, tensed and prepared for a sudden start. A gentle squeeze of his thighs was all it took, and Fenrir surged forward. Leaning low over the beast's neck, Draco felt himself grinning from ear to ear. The sudden rush of wind, the force of the surge, and the work of the beast's taut muscles were an extraordinary experience every single time; no matter how many times Draco had felt them.
Fen came to an abrupt halt. Caught off guard, Draco only just managed to stay in the saddle and didn't fly over the besse's back. Gasping for breath and cursing up a storm, the reptile pushed himself away from the pommel and hoisted himself back into place. Meanwhile, Fenrir began to back away, lowering his head low, baring his fangs and growling menacingly.
'Bloody hell, Fen, don't do this to me,' whispered the dragon, slightly panicked, when he noticed the instructor was already heading his way. 'You were supposed to behave,' he added reproachfully.
'Any problems?'
'No, no, everything's fine.' A lie has short legs, and this one was clearly a sprint champion. 'We're off now, aren't we?' He emphasised the last word heavily, but directed it at the bess. Fenrir merely twitched his pricked-up ears and shook his head.
Draco, not knowing what to do and without giving it much thought, leapt out of the saddle, grabbed the reins and pulled the unruly creature forward. One step, two, three, and suddenly he felt something grab him firmly and pull him backwards. He stumbled and, as a result, landed on Fen's chest, who immediately shielded him with one pair of front paws. The growl emanating from the besse's chest grew louder, and his gaze remained fixed on a single point in the grass.
'What on earth…?'
'What's going on?' The assistant's sharp words drew the dragon's attention away from the bess for a moment. The man was getting closer, but stopped a few paces away from them and, frowning, looked at something a little to the left. 'And what's that…?' - He bent down and reached into the grass. The dragon noticed that the stable boy was picking up a small pendant glinting with gold and turquoise.
Suddenly, he was blinded by a powerful flash of red light, and the deafening roar would have knocked him off his feet had he not already been leaning against the bess. Unable to see or hear, he felt much as he had in Enpine, with the slight exception that he was not injured. He tried to help himself a little by squinting, but it did little good. When black spots began to appear against the perfect white, he felt strong jolts again, and this time he was certain it was Fen's doing.
Once he began to see something, he regretted it. A short distance away, on the grass, a stable boy was kneeling, his face contorted with pain, his right hand stretched far out in front of him. What lay in that hand was truly terrifying. A tangle of writhing tentacles, dripping with greenish slime, seemed to be a creature suspended in mid-air, possessing no body other than those slimy limbs.
Some symbols appeared around the man, and he was suddenly immobilised by runic circles. However, this was not a wise decision, particularly from the dragon's perspective. Only now, when the sleeve had been torn open by the spell, did the reptile notice that the writhing mass was not levitating at all. The creature was holding itself aloft on long limbs that had burrowed into the poor assistant's skin and were crawling ever higher, tearing through flesh and muscle as they went. The scream must have been truly horrifying.
The tentacles had clearly found something, and several more burrowed into the poor man's forearm. The dragon felt a wave of nausea wash over him.
In the very next second, another flash appeared, albeit less intense, this time golden. Draco blinked and looked ahead just as the arm, severed above the elbow, fell to the ground along with a mass of tentacles, whilst the creature writhed in agony. Its yelp pierced even the dull ringing in Draco's ears. Blood spurted copiously in all directions, and the tentacles quickened their movements, shooting out from the severed stump in an instant, expelling a greenish slime and an unidentified black-and-brown goo.
The dragon could not hold on any longer and lost the battle with himself. The nausea turned to retching, and that in turn to vomiting. The entire contents of his stomach ended up scattered across the grass.