been.
Riv had not cared much for Lorina, always thought of her as ambitious and untrustworthy, but she was still a White-Wing, still a comrade-in-arms to Riv. And Riv had respected her prowess on the weapons-field.
She felt she should try and raise a cairn over her fallen brothers and sisters but knew there was no time.
I must fly on, or else all those in Drassil will be needing their own cairns.
Riv leaped into the air, wings beating, a sharp pain in her back. She cursed her injury, and the Cheren archer who had given it to her, and flew on.
In the distance the great tree of Drassil loomed before Riv, branches spread wide, and beneath it the towers and walls of Drassil reared.
One last spurt. She willed her wings to work harder.
She was flying high, just below heavy cloud, moisture like mist dampening her wings. Figures appeared on the road ahead, specks from Riv’s great height. With a shift of her back muscles she angled downwards, lower and lower until she was skimming the treetops.
More bodies were strewn on the road, a handful of Ben-Elim, white-feathered wings splayed and twisted. Further on Riv saw what looked like a warband gathered on the fringes of the road, spilling from the eaves of Forn Forest. They were the shaven-haired acolytes of the Kadoshim.
Deeper within the forest to Riv’s right, boughs were shifting, a rippling motion that wasn’t the wind, hinting of something moving beneath the branches. Wisps of dark mist curled up from gaps in the trees.
Riv frowned at that, remembering the dark thundercloud she’d seen, apparently full of the creatures that had slain Lorina’s warband.
Riv flew over it, closer to those gathered on the road.
They were shaven-haired men and women mounted upon horses. Hundreds of them were appearing, too many to count. And ahead of them were Cheren riders, distinctive with their long warrior braids. Riv was careful not to fly too low, wary of their bows. They were still well ahead, and Riv saw them break into a canter on the road as they approached the point where the road spilt onto the vast plain around Drassil.
Faster, Riv thought. One more burst of speed and I can still reach Drassil before them.
And then shapes were rising from the forest beneath her, winged, but not like her, great leathery wings beating hard to intercept her. Three, four of them, making towards Riv.
Kadoshim.
Riv veered across the treetop canopy, glimpsed more Kadoshim gathered beneath the lattice of boughs, half-breeds as well, waiting. A host of them.
Some burst from the canopy and came after her.
Riv reached for her Sirak bow, grabbed a fistful of arrows as Bleda had taught her, in one movement nocked, drew and loosed into the knot of Kadoshim rising towards her.
Her arrow punched into one, a shriek of pain and it was falling away.
Riv grinned and nocked another arrow.
The Kadoshim spread wider, Riv’s next arrow hissing harmlessly past them.
She swore, put her bow back into its case and pumped her wings, angling high.
Horn blasts rang out, the high-screeching sound of the Cheren.
On the ground Jin’s riders had reached the plain of Drassil and were galloping hard, blowing their horns, not riding in their usual disciplined ranks, but acting as if they were injured and hard-pressed.
The Kadoshim speeding towards Riv broke away, curling back down towards the forest.
Why are they doing that?
The other riders reached Drassil’s plain, the shaven-haired acolytes appearing as if they were pursuing the Cheren, both groups thundering across the open space towards Drassil’s gates.
Horns sounded from Drassil’s walls, answering the Cheren, and to Riv’s horror she saw the gates of Drassil creak open. Ben-Elim rose into the air above Drassil’s walls and began to fly out to meet the Cheren.
They think Jin and the Cheren are their allies, can see they are hard-pressed and fleeing. This is Gulla’s plan, to use the Cheren to open Drassil’s gates.
Riv worked her wings harder, felt her wound complaining, muscles failing. Ignored it, thinking of Aphra lying on flagstones with her throat torn open.
On the ground the Cheren were well ahead of their pretend pursuers, a wide gap between the two groups.
Wide enough for the defenders of Drassil to think they can keep the gates open for the Cheren, and have time to close them before this enemy in pursuit reaches the gates.
Riv saw Ben-Elim reach the Cheren riders, swooping low, heard them calling encouragements to the Cheren, urging them to ride faster.
No, Riv screamed internally.
She swept over the acolytes, outpacing them,