It was the happiest day of Jessilynn’s life, broken only by momentary terror every time Sonowin banked one way or another, forcing her to hold Dieredon tighter lest she fall. Given how they flew high enough to pierce the clouds, it would be a very, very long fall.
“You’d catch me, right?” she asked Dieredon, needing to shout directly into his ear to be heard over the wind that ripped at their hair and clothes. She sat bareback atop the winged horse, with nothing to hold onto but the elf’s waist, which she kept in a deathlock.
“If you fell?” Dieredon asked, glancing back at her.
She nodded.
“Most likely,” he said. He stared at her, then gently tugged on the reins. Sonowin’s great wings shifted angle, and they dipped lower with a stomach-churning lurch. When they leveled out, the clouds were far above them.
“Is it easier to breathe now?” he asked.
Meekly, Jessilynn nodded.
“I didn’t want to complain,” she said, and she meant it. Her excitement was great, and she hated to spoil it just because her head felt strangely light, or because her stomach seemed ready to empty the little remnants of her breakfast across miles and miles of faded grass.
The land rolled along as they flew north. Jessilynn spent a moment with her eyes closed, her forehead resting against Dieredon’s back. Slowly her stomach calmed, the world seeming to spin a little bit less. Rejuvenated, she looked out over the land and felt her spirit soar. Nothing compared to flying like a bird, seeing the shifting of the rivers and the entire limits of vast forests. Carefully she leaned a little to the right, to better see past Sonowin’s bobbing head.
“Is that it?” she shouted, almost pointing before thinking better of it.
“If you mean the gorge, then yes. We’re almost to the Bone Ditch.”
It was surreal seeing it from such height, a place that had been nothing more than a story to her while growing up. It was said that when Celestia created the orcs, she split the land, starting at where the Rigon flowed out of the northern mountains. It was a massive chasm now, the rock a faded red, the cliff faces sheer. At the very bottom the Rigon flowed along, steady as ever. The great span and deadly fall had been one of the most significant protections the eastern land of Neldar had against the creatures that had been trapped there. But during the Gods’ War the orcs within had been loosed, the prophet using his dark magic to aid their crossing.
“What do we do when we arrive?” Jessilynn asked, thinking of the bridges the orcs had supposedly constructed over the past few years.
Dieredon gave her a strange look.
“Land.”
Sonowin banked lower, and the growing proximity to the ground increased her sense of speed. The great chasm wound below them like a giant snake, until what had been a speck in the distance grew and grew, and she realized it was the orc bridge crossing the Bone Ditch. There was only one, constructed of weather-worn wood and thick ropes bound together with crude knots. Just thinking about crossing it made Jessilynn sick to her stomach. Sonowin looped around once, and then a hundred yards out from the western side they landed on the dull yellow grass of the Wedge.
Jessilynn leapt off the winged horse, her knees wobbling. Falling down, she clutched the grass as vomit climbed her throat.
“Focus on breathing,” Dieredon said, standing beside her. “Even elves sometimes feel discomfort from the speed and heights we climb.”
It made Jessilynn feel a little better as she puked onto the grass. Just a little.
“I’m fine,” she said, forcing herself to a stand. She pulled her bow off her back and scanned the bridge, looking for any threats. She saw none, and in her mind she heard no subtle warning of Ashhur alerting her to danger, either.
“Where are they?” she asked.
Dieredon frowned.
“Follow me,” he said. “Stay silent, and stay alert. Do not look ahead, but behind and to the sides. Trust my eyes for the front.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
Dieredon started to walk, then stopped.
“‘Sir’ is a human title,” he said.
She immediately blushed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to show respect. What should I call you?”
Dieredon cocked his head to the side.
“My name?”
The way he said it made it sound so simple, and she felt her blush growing, much as she hated it. She was not some immature girl. Her monthlies had begun years before, and by all rights she was a woman grown, but something about Dieredon made her feel so stupid, so unsure and unskilled. A simple berating by him shouldn’t embarrass her, especially when it wasn’t much of a berating at all.
Begging Ashhur to clear her head and nerves, she rapidly nodded.
“Of course,” she said. “Lead on.”
“Good. Keep your bow at ready, and follow behind me at ten paces.”
With a near fanatical obsession she followed his orders, and together they made their way to the ramshackle bridge. Every few moments she glanced behind them, where the yellow grass of the Wedge stretched on and on for miles. No matter how often she looked, she saw no signs of life. Up ahead was just as still, and when they reached the first plank of the bridge, Dieredon beckoned her over.
“Look here,” he said, pointing to a faded smear of dirt upon of wood. Jessilynn looked, but whatever he saw, she did not.
“It’s been at least three months since anyone crossed this bridge,” he explained.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” she asked. From what she understood, having orcs escape their prison was about as bad as it got.
Dieredon glanced across the bridge to the east.
“Not if there are no orcs left to cross,” he said. “Sonowin, come!”
His sudden worry made Jessilynn nervous as she climbed atop the winged horse. Without any of his usual attempts for steadiness, Dieredon tugged on the reins, sending them flying over the Bone Ditch and into the greener lands beyond.
“Where are we going?” she shouted.
“The Green Castle.”
She dared not ask why. She felt intrusive enough as it was. For three days they’d camped north of the Citadel, and he’d spent hours fixing her stance, showing her the proper way to grip her bow and draw an arrow. By the third day she could tell he’d grown restless, and come the fourth they’d begun their flight northeast. Hearing the worry in his voice put a seed of guilt in her stomach. What if they arrived somewhere too late, and it was all because of her training? Could she even stay with him in good conscience if that were the case?
They remained low to the ground, passing over hilly lands that seemed to go on forever. The grass was lush, showing the healthy luster of spring. Slowly the hills evened out, and then in the far distance she saw a faint hint of stone that rapidly took the shape of a circular wall built atop a hill. Jessilynn almost asked Dieredon if that was the Green Castle, then realized the stupidity of the question. Beyond the outer circular walls was a slender tower, every facing covered with what she guessed to be vines. Nearer and nearer they flew. The castle took on a more vivid green, and even from her distance she could see the large clusters of flowers that speckled the castle.
Dieredon circled twice, his eyes scanning the ground. His frown deepened, but still he ordered Sonowin to land. Just inside the inner walls the winged horse touched ground. Dieredon leapt off before the beast was still, and he offered her a hand.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she took it. “It’s so quiet here.”
“This castle belonged to Lord Sully. He was never a friend of elvenkind, but he did aid us in keeping the orcs at bay. When last I left here, his men were patrolling the Bone Ditch to prevent the construction of any more bridges.” He gestured about the empty courtyard. “It shouldn’t
