The Secret of Spellshadow Manor 5 by Bella Forrest (best biographies to read TXT) 📗

Squeezing his eyes shut, he braced himself for the impact.

A second later, he crashed into something solid. Although winded, he wasn’t in nearly as much pain as he had expected. There was a softness to the thing beneath him, and the steady beat of movement. He tentatively opened his eyes, feeling the ripple of muscle below as the Thunderbird’s vast wings flapped powerfully; they were even more glorious opened out, carrying beast and passenger through the air with ease.

Clutching the Thunderbird’s neck with a vise-like grip, Alex felt the cold rush of a glacial wind on his skin as she rose upward again, almost parallel to the sheer rock face. Her speed was as terrifying as it was exhilarating, and Alex could barely catch his breath as she raced toward the sky, though she stopped just short of the first band of clouds that trailed around the summit, her streamlined body circling in the air as she made to return him to the icy ledge of the mountain.

As they flew back toward solid ground, Alex noticed two patches of feathers that were a different color than the rest—a deep, vivid scarlet, hidden in the spots where her neck met her wings. Reaching for the strange patches, Alex felt two bony knobs sticking up from beneath the feathers, which were coarser than her silky feathers, and realized he could grip these protrusions without hurting her. They were like handles almost, with which he could keep himself steady, and he found that she would turn slightly if he put pressure on one in a certain direction, though most of the navigating was definitely up to the Thunderbird herself.

With a loud squawk, she returned him to the rocky outcrop of the mountain, glancing at him sharply with her bright eyes as he hopped off.

“I won’t try that way again,” he joked, and though he felt a little foolish, and more than a little relieved not to be human mush, he knew he had made progress. Alex stroked the smooth feathers at the side of the Thunderbird’s face. “Thank you for saving me,” he said softly.

She chirruped, and the sound made him smile.

His near annihilation made him wonder about how his ancestors had learned to fly on the backs of these magnificent beasts. Were there flight schools or something? he mused, contemplating how many other Spellbreakers might have almost plummeted to their deaths in the pursuit of learning to fly.

After taking a moment to bring his pulse back down and forcing away the flashbacks of jagged rocks, Alex turned toward the Thunderbird, eager to try again before he lost his nerve entirely.

This time, he managed to climb up onto her back without incident, tucking his legs neatly behind the folds of her wings, feeling like a jockey waiting at the starting line of a derby. It was an awkward position to sit in, and he knew his legs were going to ache afterwards, but he didn’t mind if it meant he could fly on the back of the beautiful Thunderbird.

“I suppose I should give you a name,” he said, leaning closer to her.

She trilled, turning to look at him, her neck twisting like an owl’s. There was an intellect behind her eyes that had Alex convinced she could understand every word of what he said.

“You think so too?”

She trilled again, louder this time.

Alex smiled. “Okay, what shall we call you?” he pondered. “How about Sugarplum?”

She gave him a deeply unimpressed look, her head tilted to one side.

“Okay, not Sugarplum. How about Dasher?” he said, gaining another apathetic expression from the giant warbird.

“Hm.” Alex’s mind turned toward the stories of her ancestors. Glancing at her gleaming silver feathers and hearing the crack of lightning overhead, a thought came to him, fitting of both her heritage and her appearance. “How do you like Silver Storm?” he asked.

She chirped, cocking her head.

“I’ll call you Storm for short,” Alex added.

Storm rested the tip of her beak on Alex’s forehead for the briefest moment. He grinned, taking it as a sign of her approval.

“Okay then, Storm, let’s see what you can do.”

Turning back around, she stepped toward the edge of the mountainside once more, perching precariously on the lip of it. Alex could see the drop below, and his heart began to pound, though he forced his eyes to look dead ahead. As he took a deep breath, the Thunderbird’s whole body lurched forward beneath him. For a moment, it felt as if he was falling again, but her wings caught a ferocious air current that sent them surging upward. The wind was ice cold and stung his cheeks, but he hardly noticed it as Storm settled into flight, soaring toward the thunderstorm above.

Once he was sure they weren’t about to dive to their deaths, he began to relax and enjoy the ride. Storm shot up through swollen, black clouds that left his clothes drenched and his face soaked, her agile form wheeling around thunderbolts, ducking and diving around the lashes of electricity that whipped toward them. Though time was of the essence, Alex couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement as he chased storm clouds and danced with the rain.

Through a parting in the dense cloud cover, he could make out the top of the mountain, and was surprised to see what looked like a shrine, glimmering at the very pinnacle. It was shaped like a Thunderbird, and forged from what appeared to be solid gold. Alex wondered if it was supposed to be a likeness of Tempest, the mountain’s namesake, reminding him of the broken town that lay in its shadow.

Was this Leander’s birthplace? he wondered, looking toward the ruins that seemed so small from above.

Storm seemed offended by Alex’s distracted attention, her eyes glinting as she dove suddenly, racing down the side of the mountain, showing him the full force of her agility as she tucked into a loop-the-loop. Alex clung on for dear life as