The Call of the Rider

I saw her, way down below me. Though it wasn't the sight of her that made me change my flight path. It was her energy, which seemed to penetrate my very soul, crying out as it did, into what it seemed to think was a hollow world.

I dove quickly, in a downward spiral, the wind assulting my eyes and nostrils in my haste to reach her. I saw the point of which she felt me. Her eyes suddenly flew upwards searching the skies, for what she did not know could be.
Clouds kept me hidden breifly from her sight but as I broke through thier cover her sudden intake of air was almost like taking it from my own lungs.

It was always like this, when they first saw me in my true form. Of course she had never known me in any other form so I could expect nothing less then shock and yet from her there was no feeling of shock, there was no familiar feeling of awe or fear for that matter. There was a welcoming feeling of Love.
This had been what I had felt from all those miles above I was sure. I was never a 'rescue the damsel in distress' type. There was something about her call that was neither begging for help nor questioning equality.
As I pulled myself to a stop beside her on that mountain top, my heart, for one brief moment, paused. From what, since years before hand, had become its sole job of pumping blood around my huge body.

I towered over her, my long neck arched proudly. Steam gently whisped from my nostrils, usually of course it would be smoke but after the wind whistling through my nose and mouth in my sudden decent from so high, at the moment it was an even more harmless vapour.

Her slender yet muscled arms unwrapped from thier comforting postion of hugging her knees to her chest. She stood. Everything about her was perfect. She was well toned, strong in mind, body and spirit. A sword hung from its sheath attached by a belt around her waist.
This woman was no slave.
She faced me, looking me up and down as she did so. Her eyes seemed to take in every aspect of my being at once in thier scan. They narrowed slightly and I knew this to be in approval. Already I felt an insane drive to please her.

'Come Dragon, we shall walk'
Her tone was not to be questioned, it sent a thrill through my long neglected bones.
I stood before her naked beneath my scaley armour, I knew I could no more defend myself from her then I could from myself I slowly walked toward her until we stood facing each other. I started to turn, as to fall into step beside her.

'No. Wait.'  Again her tone commanded obediance.

I stopped in my tracks. She looked into my eyes and outstretched her hand running it gently down the side of my neck sending a tingle of shockwaves cascading throughout my body.
'You have nothing to fear Dragon' she whispered.
And so it was that I was hers. from that instant. Who else but a rider feels a Dragons fears. Who else but a rider can ease a Dragons soul. Who else but a rider knows without questioning the power of a Dragon how to soothe them so instantly.
'May I ride?' her tone this time was not a command but a question. It did not demand anything from me that I was not willing to give. It was request for my service.
'Of course Mistress, but we must honour the code.'

She removed what I had at first assumed was a belt from her waist. Upon closer inspection I understood its true use as she had. My collar.

As she fastend it around my neck she kissed my cheek with delicate soft lips and spoke directly to my soul as she murmoured into my ear.
"Thank you My Dragon."

In perfect harmony we flew for years and years, journeying through the seven skies together. Until to my distress I felt her begin to slide. The pull of the human physical exsistance overtaking her spiritual bond with me. I struggled onwards, shifting my body from side to side to try to keep her on board until in one devestating moment I realised she had gone.

I couldn't pinpoint the moment she had slipped. I circled backwards searching endlessly for years more looking for her but as is the case with a rider. When they are over the ride there is no connection left.

My soul cried out in agony at the realisation that dawned on me with the awareness of my new found weightlessness. For a Dragon without its rider is a lonely being indeed. We do not need a rider. We do not search for a rider. We are given a rider. For a dragon to loose its rider is like loosing a wing. It sends you spiralling in circles until you can counterbalance the weight that is missing within yourself.
I found her once, only briefly, long enough to understand that she was truely gone. I now I fly straight once more, without the tourmenting circles that had plagued me. A part of my soul will always miss her. My first rider. Yet the universe comforts me and tells me there is someone else who can ride. I want to look and yet I am forbidden.

For to look for a rider would only mean that you would not see when a rider has chosen you. Once more I am at peace with flying solo. I am happy in my journey, knowing I need only myself for my protection, and yet a part of me waits. Waits to once more hear that familiar call. And it knows that the lesson in loosing her was understanding when to cease flying and walk the instant my rider starts to slip until once more we can fly.





S.L. Gordon