Ellyesce smiled. “I am an elf.”
That time, Jahrra gave him an incredulous look. As if that explained everything. Jahrra wondered why she wasn’t sick, after her fainting spell upon arriving in Cahrdyarein. Maybe because this time, you’re not running for your life with archers sending arrows your way, she mused.
“And,” Ellyesce continued, “the altitude doesn’t affect everyone the same way. And Erron is very young.”
“Won’t it get worse once we reach the city?” Whinsey pressed.
Ellyesce shook his head. “Nimbronia is saturated in magic. The dragons have made it so that all the people living there might do so in comfort. This is also why you’ll not feel the bitter cold of the ice once we are within the boundaries of the city.”
No one spoke after that, and as soon as Erron got over his bout of sickness, he was back in the saddle. Jahrra thought he still looked ill, but they could not afford to wait it out. She only hoped he didn’t grow worse before they reached Nimbronia.
As they drew closer to their final destination, the trail improved a great deal, and soon, became a wide road. The snow was still deep, and the thin air made it difficult to breathe, but the sky was clear and the bright sun was warm. Jahrra wondered how much longer their journey might have been had they taken the main road out of Cahrdyarein instead of the less exposed route through the mountain. But that didn’t matter now. They were practically on the doorstep of Nimbronia, and Ethoes willing, they would make it the rest of the way unscathed.
-Chapter Twenty-
A Painful Betrayal and a Desperate Escape
The small party of refugees rode ever upward, the massive city growing in size as the mountaintop drew near. When the shadows cast by the great frozen spires overtook them, Jahrra’s stomach roiled with both excitement and dread. It was obvious why she might be eager. The Creecemind were the largest kruel of dragons in all of Ethoes, and the most magical. To see them in person, and not merely as a sketch in one of Hroombra’s books or a tiny figure from a distance, was something she was greatly looking forward to. But with the anticipation also came unease. What if Jaax and Pendric weren’t there when they arrived? What if they never got out of Cahrdyarein? What if they had been taken prisoner, or worse, died in battle? Stop it, Jahrra! her subconscious scolded. Don’t think that way.
Despite their close proximity to Nimbronia, Ellyesce kept constantly alert, and Jahrra was beginning to wonder if his inability to use his magic was grating on him. Finally, they came around one more turn, and Ellyesce pulled his semequin to a halt. He lifted an arm and pointed across a great chasm that yawned before them.
“There,” he said, his voice low and breathy, “the gates to the border of the city of the Creecemind.”
Jahrra could only stare in wide-eyed wonder. Their trail, which widened out onto a huge, flat ledge of rock several yards ahead, protruded from the edge of the mountain. Below, the land fell away and a canyon, far deeper than the one she and Jaax had traversed in their flight from Oescienne, gaped like the mouth of the earth itself. A broad bridge composed of stone and ice crossed the chasm, meeting up with the edge of the mountain on the other side. The bridge was at least half a mile long, if not more, and looked wide enough to leave room for three or four carriages to pass side by side. The summit on the other end, Jahrra couldn’t help but notice, was even more impressive. It rose above them like a giant among elves, neat tiers of stone buildings and turrets of ice beginning a few hundred feet above the place where the bridge ended.
“We must cross the bridge, then ask for admittance into the city,” Ellyesce said.
Jahrra blinked and drew her attention away from the crystalline structures climbing ever higher up the peak. Behind her, she heard Whinsey’s horse nicker. When she turned around, Jahrra noticed that both the Resai woman and her son had their eyes locked on the view of Nimbronia, their lips slightly parted. She felt herself grin. She must have looked the same way.
“Will they let us in?” she heard Dervit ask.
Ellyesce answered the limbit with a terse tone. “They must.”
Without waiting for an answer, he nudged Gliriant forward. Jahrra gave him some room, and then, encouraged Phrym to follow, assuming the others were just behind her. They gathered together once again in front of the bridge, its snow-coated surface white and pristine. A gust of wind, curling down the mountainside like the icy breath of the legendary dragons living there, whistled faintly past the bridge, blowing some of the snow loose. Like diamond dust, the frost particles drifted beyond the edge, floating down, down, down to the bottom of the abyss that was beyond Jahrra’s sight.
“I’ll go first,” Ellyesce announced. “Wait until I get halfway across before you follow after me.”
Jahrra opened her mouth to protest, but he gave his head one hard shake. “No. We do not know if the Tyrant’s soldiers have guessed our destination. They may be waiting just out of sight, preparing for an attack.”
He jerked his head toward the bridge. “That would be a perfect place for an ambush. Let me get to the midway point. If the Red Flange happens to be occupying these mountain peaks, perhaps one of them will make the mistake of shooting too soon.”
Jahrra clenched Phrym’s reins in her hands and scowled at the elf. For some reason, that only made him smile.
“They have shot me before,” he said, with dry amusement. “And I have survived. Do not worry about me.”
“You’ll not be so lucky a second time,” Jahrra insisted, more out of annoyance at his stubbornness than anything else.
“Yes, I will,” Ellyesce replied. “And it is you that must make it to the city unscathed. Not I.”
Before Jahrra could argue any further, Ellyesce dug his heels into his mount’s flanks, and Gliriant lurched forward.
“He is right, you know,” Dervit said, speaking up for the first time in several minutes. “You are more indispensable than him.”
“No,” Jahrra grated, “I am not. And before you go on,” she cast in the limbit’s direction, “I may be the person necessary to bring about the fall of the Crimson King, but that doesn’t detract from your worth.”
She turned a little in the saddle to include Whinsey and Erron in her statement. “You are all important to me. That must count for something.”
“Don’t worry, Jahrra,” Whinsey reassured, moving her horse closer. “You and Ellyesce are fretting for no reason. We will all make it to the city safely, and Jaax and Pendric will be waiting for us.”
Jahrra gave a small smile and nodded once, trying to encourage Whinsey’s positive attitude to infect her as well. She was right. There was no point in arguing about it. Ellyesce was already ten yards down the bridge and shouting would only draw attention to them. Best just to wait as he’d instructed.
In the end, Jahrra and her companions waited a little bit longer than Ellyesce had asked before directing their horses out onto the strip of snow-blanketed stone. A pair of tall columns, natural granite that had been carved by some artist’s hands long ago to resemble a pair of dragons sitting at attention, faced each other across the entrance to the bridge. Jahrra held her hand up to her eyes and peered out over the expanse. The weather was freezing this high up, but that didn’t stop the bright sun from gleaming off all the snow.
Jahrra encouraged Phrym forward, and like always, he obeyed her without question. His feet dragged a little in the deep snow, but from the way he stepped, she could tell the surface of the road was flat and even. A stone railing, probably as high as her hip if she were standing on the ground, ran along the edges of the bridge, giving her a minute sense of security. To distract herself from the seemingly bottomless drop on either side of their path, Jahrra glanced up to study their surroundings. The mountains, lavender-hued teeth of granite, schist and slate, stretched on for miles around her. Unsurprisingly, their summits were dusted with snow, and Jahrra was reminded of amethyst crystals coating the inside of a geode. She smiled, despite her ever present unease. It was as if she and Phrym and the others were suspended in space, far above the world. Nothing, save for a few nearby peaks and Nimbronia’s own mountain, reached higher than them.