Flight of the Exiles

Brochwel sat at the base of the tree, a healthy distance away from his fallen horse, thinking that maybe his life wasn't over. He took the last bite of Rhosarian hardtack, then washed it down with a swig of water.

"Umm, hello?" Cambadr chimed in telepathically. "Shouldn't you be racing off to the battlefield?"

Brochwel shuddered. "Don't startle me like that. Are you going to be a sword or a chatterbox?"

"Sword, it's just ... you seemed down and I thought I would stir you back into action with a tale of your predecessors' valiance."

"Pipe down. I'm thinking."

Thinking he had other useful skills. Brochwel could read and write. Heck, he had taught Macsen and a few other warriors how. There had to be a town somewhere that would be thrilled to have a teacher ensure the next generation could write as easily as they spoke. Yeah. He looked into a calming orange sunset. It would be fine.

Standing up, Brochwel remembered that said town would probably come under imperial rule, sooner or later. And even if the parents of the students kept quiet about the helpful teacher with a rock for a face who tried to avoid imperial entanglements, the children wouldn't. Kids talked about everything.

He sat back down. Maybe he could be a baker ...

This was when he heard the frantic cries of a very small hawk that had seen what comes after death several times this month and was determined not to witness it again. A low thrumming of wings played accompaniment.

"Is that ..."

Aoda made a cautious landing a dozen feet away, the widest open space available to her in this portion of the canyon, with Tecca's hawk squeezed in one hand.

"Brochwel?"

"Aoda! Hi." Brochwel stood so fast he felt lightheaded as he brushed the pine needles away. "How are you?"

She turned and looked in the correct direction, but it was like her eyes weren't quite finding him. Aoda reached out and grabbed Brochwel's cheeks with both hands. The tiny hawk, now free, fluttered away.

"Wha—"

"There you are. So that's what the stone feels like." Aoda continued holding his face and talked fast. "Look, I need you to shut up and listen for a moment. I'm really sorry I left you and your friends to chase after my brother. I knew it was dumb and impulsive. You were wanted criminals and way too far from the border to get out without my help, but I needed to kick his ass. He's always up in my business and just when I thought I found something on my own, he came along again to ruin it. I was sure you must have been captured and killed until old man Wector told me he met you at the falls and saw you heading my way that morning. How did you survive?"

Brochwel glanced at the sky. Still bright and orange and lovely, but it wouldn't stay that way for long. But Aoda was a speed freak compared to horses or a marching army.

"I promise I'll tell you everything later, but right now I need to ask a huge favor."

"Mhmm?"

"Would you carry me to Kirrglos? My horse is dead, we're hours from a battle, and my second in command is not an experienced officer."

"Now?" Aoda grimaced as she looked up at the sky. "Can't it wait till morning?"

"Please. I'll do anything you want. Look, I know what being an exile is like, I can help. Wector told me there was a warrant out fo—"

Aoda put an imprecise finger to his lips. "Anything?"

After she remembered to move her finger away so he could answer properly, Brochwel gave an unvarnished, "Yes."

"That's worth it. Hang on tight." She spun him around so he faced away, wrapped her arms securely around his chest and midsection, then rose into the air.

The ascent was almost as swift as the one she had given him in Maurcoret, but as Aoda topped out of the climb she slowed to a stand-still.

"Brochwel ... I thought it would be brighter when we got out of the canyon."

He looked west. The sun had recently set. To his eyes the sky was still aglow, at least in that direction, and the land below was darkening but still visible. Brochwel had been told long ago in academic know-your-opponent lectures that odonarans had supremely good vision and only operated during the day. He hadn't realized just how adapted for daytime hours they were.

"There's no home for me here now." Then louder, she told Brochwel, "I'll fly us, but I can't see a damn thing. You're going to have to be my eyes. Do NOT crash us."

"I won't. Turn—"

Brochwel felt her arm tighten on him.

"Actually, wait. Can you see?"

"Yeah."

"But it's night! It's almost pitch black!"

"It's dusk. To human eyes, it's only slightly dark."

"Wild."

As she hovered, Brochwel looked down and realized she had faced him away from her (unlike their previous flight) so that he could more easily see the ground. He also saw that they were drifting sideways a little. Even though the crosswind was barely strong enough to stir their hair, Aoda couldn't correct for it unless she had a visual reference.

"Alright, start turning right. Little more. That's good. Now, forward at a pace you're comfortable with."

After a few minutes she asked if he was flying too slow while doing (by Brochwel's estimation) double the speed of the fastest he had ever seen a horse gallop. This velocity was more tolerable the raw, ear-buffeting zoom she had shown him before. The steady thrumming, a pleasant breeze, good company ... Brochwel could get used to this flying thing.

He called out occasional adjustments, rising for wooded hills or correcting their heading. Darkened landscape rolled under them. Aoda kept one foot hooked under his to prevent his legs from dangling and inducing drag. They both steadily relaxed as it became clear that he was not going to let them fly close to any obstacles.

"You really can see in the dark. Wait ... I see something! Are those stars? I've never seen stars before."

Very gently, Brochwel said, "Those are torches, I'm afraid. Passing over the enemy column now. You'll only see stars below you if you're flying over water ... or if you somehow managed to fly upside down."

The instant he said it, dread spiraled up Brochwel's spine. She wasn't going to show off and fly upside down while blind. Surely not.

"Hey, Brochwel." He could hear the smirk in her voice. "Guess what I can do."

"Waitwaitwait—" Brochwel's stomach lurched as Aoda climbed and dipped her right wings.

Inverted with stars below him, in the distance ahead Brochwel could just see the another set of torches, including a few dozen about to reach them. He was going to rejoin his unit before the battle ... if he could get Aoda to cool it with the blind-flying aerobatics before they had an accident.