he lost longitudinal control. He managed to bank sharply left, thereby
avoiding the trees at the edge of the clearing and he was still turning
when the ground came up to meet him. He moved further back to bleed off
more airspeed, brought the nose up too far and came down in something that
was more a poorly controlled stall than a landing.
The shock rattled Glandurg’s teeth and drove him to his knees. It also
snapped the left wing spar just outboard of his left shoulder.
“You see?” Glandurg said as he staggered to meet the pack of dwarves
running toward him. “You see how easy it is.
“Here now,” he said to Thorfin. “You try it.”
“Will not.”
“What?”
“I ain’t going,” Thorfin said stubbornly.
Glandurg marched over and stuck his face in Thorfin’s. “I’m the leader
here and I say you bloody are going!” he roared.
“You can be the leader all you want and I’m bloody not going,” Thorfin
said in the same unyielding tone. “No way I could handle one of them
things. I’m scared of heights.”
” ‘S truth,” Gimli said. “I watched him on the flight here. Fair like to
mess his pants, he was.”
Thorfin glared at the purveyor of this unsought bit of support, but he
stood firm. “I ain’t going up in one of them things. Not even for
practice.”
“You would betray your oath?” Glandurg heaped scorn into his words.
“I ain’t going back on my oath, but the oath didn’t say anything about
playing at being a bird.”
Glandurg sensed that he was facing his first command crisis. He decided to
resort to his ultimate threat.
“You will or you’ll be sorry.”
“You can’t make me sorrier than I would be if I took one of those things.
What could you do to me that’s worse?” The other dwarves shifted uneasily
and one or two murmured support for Thorfin.
Glandurg considered the question. It dawned on him there really wasn’t
anything he could do. The members of his band were sworn to kill the
wizard, but Glandurg had not sworn them to obey him-in part because he
doubted they would take such an oath.
However a successful commander remains flexible in the face of unexpected
opposition.
“All right then, you won’t have to fly. You and anyone else who feels the
way you do can create a diversion by attacking the castle from below.
There won’t be as much glory in it, of course.” He let the scorn drip from
his voice. “But when the attack starts you can swim the river and climb
the castle walls.”
Thorfin nodded. “That suits,” he said stolidly.
In the event two other dwarves decided they’d rather swim and climb than
fly. That left Glandurg and eight others to practice gliding out of trees.
By the end of the day each dwarf had made five flights. It was a most
successful training session, Glandurg decided. They were all alive and
they still had half the wings undamaged. They could even land in the
general direction of their target most of the time.
They needed more training. But meanwhile they could continue to practice
with the remaining gliders and work on repairing the damaged wings.
It wasn’t the woods, or even the streets of the Capital outside the
castle, but there was solitude in this place, and a lovely view.
Well, Wiz thought to himself, at least I’m safe up here.
Glandurg shifted uneasily and grasped his holding bar even tighter. This
had seemed like a brilliant inspiration when he had both feet on the
ground. Now, dangling hundreds of feet above the river he was less
certain.
The wind whipped loose a strand of hair from under his hood and slapped it
across his eyes. Instinctively he reached to push it away and for a
heart-stopping instant he nearly lost his grip. He clutched the holding
bar and squeezed his eyes tightly shut to blot out the scenery passing
below him. Above him the griffin flew on, oblivious to his cargo’s antics.
I am the leader, Glandurg reminded himself. I must see where I am going.
He forced his eyes open. The castle was coming up fast. Carefully he