The other elf moved his chestnut flyer’s reins into his other hand and pointed into the leaf-wreathed thicket near their stables at the tail of a black horse protruding out a foot or two. The tip of a wing extended up above the tops of the hazel sprays. “There he is. And what a fine-looking animal he is, too,” Kauli said, giving it a hearty slap on the flank.

“Watch it, friend,” a male voice growled. The horse’s behind turned around. To the elves’ surprise, it was not attached to a horse’s front. Instead, a male torso with muscular arms, tanned skin, and black hair confronted them. A pair of glossy, black-feathered wings joined the back from the shoulder blades down to a few inches below where skin became hide. Kauli gaped. A winged centaur!

“That’s a beautiful steed you’ve got there,” said Fili scornfully to the newcomer, narrowing his green eyes. “Where’s the rest of it?”

The centaur tossed his long black hair, and stamped a sable right rear hoof. “I only laughed at that the first thousand times, elf.” He threw off a creditable salute. “Pilot Eurwood of the Silver Dale reporting for service.”

“Welcome,” Kauli said, extending a hand upward, for the centaur stood head and shoulders above him. “Second Underofficer Kauli. This is Rabena.” The mare danced shyly behind her rider’s shoulder.

“Nice to meet you,” Eurwood said. He reached out a friendly hand to scratch the mare behind her pointed ears. She nickered with pleasure. “Where’s the commander?”

“This way,” Fili said. He turned his back on Eurwood and headed toward the captain’s tent. Eurwood gave him a startled glance, but fell into step behind the first officer and his steed. Kauli, too, was taken aback by the curt dismissal of a new comrade-in-arms.

Kauli kept glancing curiously at his new companion as they walked. The Elf Kingdoms extended across roughly two thirds of the continent they called Shoi’ana, and the dwarves in their third called Caragrok. Centaur herds roamed the southern reaches beyond the mountains, in plains that were too empty for the elves and not filled with enough interesting minerals for their shorter brethren. The three races usually did not mix much with one another or with the other species who lived there.

Times, however, were changing. The elves’ war against the Blood Host, already almost eight years in duration, had caused so many casualties that they found themselves appealing to their neighbors for aid, both to stop the influx of vampires, harpies, and werewolves from Mori’ana across the sea, and to keep them from spreading farther across Shoi’ana. Most of the dwarves who had joined the forces preferred to be ground troops and cavalry, mistrusting the pegasi. Naiads and dryads refused to leave their forests, but had been giving good service by changing the paths and setting confusion spells all throughout the wood-lands, which had driven some of the enemy mad and had done a lot to damage their opponents’ morale all around. The few centaurs that had come forward were used as shock troops, combining their superior size and strength with mobility that Kauli could not help but envy. He never dreamed one of them would join the elite flyers of the air corps. Still, he felt that there was something wrong with a centaur with wings. He knew Fili felt the same as he did. The Free People were fighting against species perverted by evil, and now they would be fighting alongside one perverted by nature. They had seen other creatures suffer after being bespelled by the evil invaders, even some members of their own airborne force. Some of them had been terribly deformed, growing horns, or a third eye, or suffocating as their mouths and noses were sealed under a layer of flesh. Perhaps that was the cause of Fili’s dislike. Still, this was wartime, and they should be grateful for any allies who would help them rid the continent of their enemy. They should do all they could to get over their uneasiness.

“Captain Bakolli!” Fili saluted. The silver-haired elf sitting alone at the small camp table underneath the trees signed to the trio to approach.

“Our new recruit,” Bakolli said with a smile. Eurwood saluted and handed him a silver acorn. Kauli knew that it contained an introduction from either a centaur captain or chief of a herd. “Thank you, Pilot Eurwood. Glad to have you here. We are at rest at the moment, as you see. It will give you a chance to acclimate to our company. I’ll review your records. In the meantime, my officers will show you around.”

“Yes, sir,” the centaur said, eyes forward. “Thank you, sir.”

“That is all, pilots. Get some food. I will see you at the evening sing.”

Elves did not stable their animals in between four walls and a roof as the dwarves did. Pegasi preferred a calmer, more open setting, through which the soft night wind could flow. Plantwise elves had brought forth a garden suitable for equine companions that was comfortable enough that Kauli thought he wouldn’t mind living in it himself. Narrow whips of hazel and rowan had been woven into flowers and thick vines bent to form bowers up among the branches of the huge trees in which a winged animal might find peace. They were hung with fragrant honeysuckle and mum’s ivy, a plant that drank sound. Pegasi were nervy beasts, as likely to kick down the bowers as stand or nest in them, and needed a bit of soothing to calm them after a hard day’s flying. The other elves were already there, sitting on smaller branches beside their winged friends, speaking quietly to them and feeding them tidbits and fresh flowers.

Fili glanced sideways at Eurwood as they walked through the aisle in between the two rows of trees. Rabena danced a little impatiently and nibbled at Kauli’s ear as he paused before her stall. He took off her tack and gave her a pat on the side. The chestnut gathered herself and winged upward, alighting on the woven platform.

“There’s nothing for you here. You won’t be needing to linger,” Fili said curtly to the centaur.

“Wait,” Kauli said. “What is he going to do when we settle our mounts for the evening?”

“What, do you kiss them good night?” Eurwood asked scornfully.

“Yeah,” sneered Fili. “You can kiss your own backside then, too.”

Eurwood leered at him. “Why don’t you kiss it for me?”

“Enough!” Kauli exclaimed, and immediately lowered his voice as several of the pilots glared at him past their animals’ sides. “Eurwood, this is a bonding exercise, caring for our animals. It is an important facet of our training, and our daily routine. Afterward, we sit together and tell stories, listen to one another, try to learn more about each other to form a stronger corps.”

The centaur snorted. “Then I guess when you’re putting your animals to bed in the treetops, I’m going to go straight to the bar and start drinking. How about that for a bonding exercise? I should be drunk enough by the time you get there to think that you are civilized beings. I can find the sleeping quarters by myself.” He stalked off, leaving the two officers exchanging glances.

Kauli studied his friend. “This is not your usual custom, to dislike someone on sight, Fili.”

The senior elf shook his head. “Something about him makes me think of our foe, Kauli. I find myself unable to restrain my tongue. He is so prickly that it does not help me to accept him. It’s not as though he is really an elf.”

The small, leafy glen where the pilots gathered at the end of the day was filled with tension. Eurwood had indeed gotten a head start on the barrel of mead set on a bracket near the table of victuals. He sat on a high branch above the others, glaring down at them when Kauli offered introductions. Fili poured them both mugs of the honey wine and made a few choice comments on the intelligence of centaurs as he flopped down into a comfortable seat made from a clump of thornless briars. The others laughed, so Fili enlarged upon his topic.

“And especially half-breeds,” he said loudly enough to be heard above the derisive noises Eurwood let out. “Anything stupid enough to breed with horses can’t have much upstairs.”

A stream of mead poured down on Fili’s head. He leaped up, sputtering. The others snorted into their mugs. Even Kauli smiled secretly into his drink.

“Got this upstairs, anyhow, elf,” Eurwood’s voice came out of the leaves.

Just after sunrise, Captain Bakolli held his saber in the air while his silvery steed Mercury hovered fifty feet above the ground, fluttering only his wingtips. “One pass, loose three arrows through the rings and into the targets. Your aim must be perfect every time, our enemies do not allow for second chances. We need to keep sharp, pilots! The wyrm is coming, and we will have little time to stop it!”

“What’s this wyrm?” Eurwood asked.

“Silence in the ranks!” Bakolli bellowed.

Kauli surveyed the crossed vines strung from the tops of two tall birch trees down to the ground. Along each one were tied a series of rings as wide as an elf’s head. Beyond them, attached to the trees themselves, were hay-stuffed targets. If and only if one maneuvered one’s steed into the proper place, one could shoot through the rings and strike those targets.

“The wyrm is the Blood Host’s secret weapon,” he whispered to Eurwood. “It’s killed hundreds.”

“All right,” Fili said, turning around in his saddle and starting straight at Eurwood. “Let’s see whether you belong with this unit, pilot!”

“Fine,” Eurwood said, saluting smartly. “Sir, permission to make the pass?”

“Granted,” Fili snapped out, returning the salute.

Kauli knew the maneuverability that he could get on Rabena’s back. She took care of the flying, responding to his gentle knee pressure and verbal orders. By comparison the centaur seemed clumsy as he galloped into the sky, flapping his great wings. He had to handle both flying and fighting at the same time. Still, once he was airborne, the awkwardness passed swiftly. Eurwood flicked through the hanging vines with remarkable speed, never touching a single one. At the first officer’s signal, he whisked the bow from the baldric across his chest and an arrow from the quiver on his back, joining the two in an instant. A quick pull and loose, and the first arrow winged through the top ring and smacked into the center of the target with an audible pop!

The pilots of the Cavalcade murmured admiringly among themselves. Fili shook his head. “One arrow, with no distractions. Any junior pilot should be capable of that. Kauli, you next! Fly cross-pattern.”

“Yes, sir.” Kauli nudged Rabena, and she was off. He drew his bow. The winged mare responded to his knees, weaving in and out of the obstacles. He reached the first ring at the same time Eurwood was crossing beneath him, aiming for the second. Their arrows hissed from the bow at the same moment. The watching pilots let out a sigh and a groan. Kauli looked back. His arrow had not struck the center. He felt his cheeks burn with shame. Rabena nickered, the vibration reverberating through her barrel so that he could feel it in his legs, as she sympathized with him.

But one arrow did not lose a battle, despite what their captain said. Kauli swung around, ready to take aim at the next target. Eurwood was below him, heading for number three. Another elf, Brauxen, brought his bay horse over their heads. The shadow obscured the opening of the ring, but Kauli had already marked its location. He loosed, and knew the arrow found its true mark. Eurwood, too, had taken his third shot, and returned to the line on the ground, his bow held over his head in triumph.

When Fili and Kauli examined the targets, they found that all of the centaur’s shots had found the center. Kauli had to grant Eurwood his arrogant celebration. None of the other pilots had done nearly as well. Fili nudged Milda to land. The mare tilted her great white wings and sailed gracefully to the ground. She trotted up and down before the ranked pilots. Kauli noticed that his companion’s shoulders were taut under his leather tunic as he stopped before Eurwood.

“Good shooting, pilot,” he said, his tone grudging.

Eurwood kept his eyes forward. “Yes, sir.”

Kauli searched the long face. “Who was your teacher, pilot?”

“Is that an official question, Second Underofficer?” Eurwood asked.

“No, just friendly curiosity.”

“Then, with all due respect, none of your business, Second Underofficer.”

Eurwood’s subsequent passes at the targets were as flawless as the first. The elves watched with growing admiration and applauded the final pass. Any one of the Cavalcade would have been flushed with pleasure at the approbation, but the centaur continued to look bored and hostile. He rebuffed friendly comments and ignored compliments. Kauli thought that perhaps Fili’s abrasive reception of him the night before had put him into a sulk from which he had not yet recovered.

Kauli caught up with him when they broke for lunch.

“I did not mean to offend you with my question, Eurwood,” he said.

“No offense taken, Second Underofficer.” The centaur continued trotting along, rapidly outpacing the elf. Kauli broke into a light run to keep apace of his taller companion.

“Please, call me Kauli when we’re not on duty.” Was the fellow walking even faster? “Come and dine with us. We’d like to know you better.”

“If you wish.” Eurwood didn’t sound as if he relished the offer.

“I do. You must forgive Fili. He has been at war so long that he does not readily accept newcomers. We have been betrayed at times, by those we thought we could trust.”

“Not my problem,” Eurwood said curtly.

“We are grateful for your service. Please accept that.”

“I’m not here to please you, Second Underofficer. I have my own reasons.”

Kauli kept trying. “That’s a handsome bow you carry. Did you make it?”

“What would it matter if I did?” The centaur opened his stride and plunged into a thicket of brambles. The prickly shoots swayed shut before Kauli reached them. He decided not to follow.

Kauli was undeterred. They had had elves from many tribes join them, each with his or her own customs, and often with a chip on their shoulders, but they all served the greater purpose of keeping Shoi’ana free.

But by lunch’s end, neither Kauli nor his friends knew anything more about the newcomer than they had before. He gave them his tribe’s name, the Silver Dale, and allowed that he was twenty-eight years old, but nothing else, not even his reasons for joining the Cavalcade. Fili was scornful, as always.

“Let him be alone,” he said. “With an attitude like that, he will probably get killed in the first onslaught by the enemy.”

“He’s come freely to join us, Fili,” Kauli said, frowning. “If he risks his life for the country, he deserves our respect and support, if not our friendship.”

“He certainly can shoot,” Brauxen said, grabbing another handful of arrows from the fletchers’ table and refilling his quiver.

“And fly,” added Trasbre, an elf from the southern reaches. “I think my stallion was jealous of him! Did you see him turn on his right wingtip around that tree? He never touched a leaf! And he flew straight up and over. A marvel. With his shape he can do things we may not dream of.”

“Such a shape! I’ve heard of an elf becoming attached to his steed, but that’s ridiculous,” Hobri snickered.

“You say he’s crossbred,” Brauxen said. “Do you know with what? Where did he get those wings?”

“Harpy,” Fili said with grim satisfaction. “I knew he reminded me of something evil. His life story was there in a nutshell. Captain Bakolli let me see it. Mother’s a centaur. Father’s a harpy. He put a love spell on her, but they stayed together for more than thirty years. Freaks.”

“Aye, yes,” Trasbre agreed. “He’s a freak. But I still wish I could fly like that. I asked him to teach me that wingtip turn, and he told me to . . .” The southern elf made a couple of hand gestures that made the others gasp, then snicker.

“Let him alone for a while,” Kauli said. “Just show him some respect, and he’ll come around.”

“There’s no time for being soft in warfare,” Fili said. “If he takes orders, that’s all I care about.”

“Why are you being so hard on Eurwood, Fili?” Kauli asked, once the others had disbursed. “He’s proving to be a worthwhile addition to the squad. Give him a chance to feel as though he belongs here.”

“We have no time for coddling,” Fili said curtly. “The enemy is everywhere. And if he can’t take a little banter, then let him go back to whatever warped nest spawned him.”

“It’s more than ordinary banter. You’re picking on him, Fili.”

“And what if I am? Have you forgotten the bloody battles we have fought against the harpies?” Fili asked.

Kauli shook his head. “He’s not one of them. He is our ally. He may be the product of an unnatural mating, but he has come to fight for our cause. It would serve you better to remember that.”

Fili looked down upon him coldly. “If we’re speaking about memory, Second Underofficer, I outrank you, and that freak told you to mind your own business, did he not? We have more to think about than the happiness of a half-harpy.”

“Won’t you come join us, Eurwood?” Kauli asked. The centaur had fluttered up among the high branches of the tree above the glen, and Kauli had climbed up after him, determined that he should not spend another evening alone. Below them, the nightly sing was in full spate. The other pilots were vying with one another with new poems. Some were scurrilous, others solemn. Laughter and applause filtered up to them through the thick green leaves. For a moment Kauli saw a wistful look on the centaur’s face, but it passed swiftly.

“Thank you, but no,” Eurwood said.

“We come from many tribes here, and many different walks of life. My mother is the queen’s chirurgeon, and my father is a listener.”

“An unusual profession.” Eurwood eyed him curiously. More than mere sound, listeners could hear cracks at the heart of a stone, plants growing underground, or a wound healing inside an elf’s body. At that moment Kauli wished he had more of his father’s skill, but he sensed the centaur might be willing to open up a little.

“Tell me about your parents,” Kauli said, settling himself in a comfortable niche between branch and bole with his legs propped up. “I know very few centaurs well.”

“You mean, how could one of them take up with a harpy?” Eurwood asked. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I will try,” Kauli said.

Eurwood seemed to struggle internally before he allowed himself to speak. “Not all harpies are ugly, misshapen beasts. It’s the evil they do that warps their bodies and their spirits. My father did not look like the ones who serve the Blood Host. He appeared as noble a creature as you. If he was evil, it would have shown. He loved my mother. He played a trick on her with a love potion, but they lived together joyfully long after it wore off. She made him pay for that little ruse, I promise you.”

Kauli laughed. “I can well imagine. An elf maiden would exact the price of her pride before forgiving.”

Eurwood tossed his head like a stallion. “The same for a centaur filly. My mother might have forgiven him, but the others of our herd never did. You have admired my skill in the air. He taught me how to fly. Would you still have given me even grudging compliments if you knew the source of my skill? Probably not. He was a man of honor and a hero. I am here in his memory.”

“He is dead, then?” Kauli asked sympathetically. “What became of him?”

Eurwood glowered. His horse’s hooves gathered beneath him, and he sprang up to take wing. His black wings and pelt rendered him instantly invisible against the night sky.

Kauli helped himself down thoughtfully. Fili saw him climb out of the tree.

“And what of our misshapen recruit?” Fili asked, waving him over.

“An interesting fellow. It sounds strange to say, but his family sounds quite normal. He could have been raised as an elf.”

Fili snorted.

Kauli looked around at the others seated nearby. “He came to join us in honor of his father’s memory.”

A few nodded respectfully, but Fili gave him an odd look. “Harpies have no honor.”

Kauli knew what he was thinking. Not two years past, the Cavalcade had gone after a flock that had attacked a small village to the southeast of their camp near Woth Forest. When it was over, they went into the village to see if they could help the wounded. There were no wounded, only dead. All the elves within had been gutted by harpy claws, including children. He had a keen memory of Fili sitting on the ground holding the still-twitching body of a small child.

“Why would he come to us, then?” Kauli demanded, dispelling the horrific vision. “He will risk his life beside ours. You cannot doubt that a centaur would be our ally. I sense no falseness in him.”

“We will see whether his heart’s with his horse half or his vulture half,” Fili said carelessly as he rose, dumping out the last dregs of his mead. “I’m for bed.”

Kauli and a few of the elves continued to try and make friends with Eurwood, but most of the Cavalcade followed Fili’s example, and made fun of the centaur when they couldn’t ignore him. Some of it was rank jealousy. Eurwood was an incredibly good flier and a deadly archer. The centaurs had invented the art, for all that the elves claimed it. Kauli had been taught the truth, and he knew his fellows had, too. He and his friends openly showed their admiration for Eurwood’s skill. He hoped that all of the elves would come around and stop treating the centaur like a stranger. The war was approaching. They needed to be united. Their survival depended upon it. The seers among them had begun to have terrible dreams of scaled faces with lidless eyes, and hungry, fanged mouths forever reaching for their throats.

“Tomorrow,” Bakolli confirmed at dinner on the third night. As usual, Eurwood sat at the end of the glen, paying heed only to the captain’s announcements and nothing else. “The battle returns to us, my friends. Sharpen your knives and make sure all your arrows are straight. Tomorrow a new enemy force arrives. I have seen it, and I have received messages from my fellow commanders at sea and on the western shore. They have driven past the armies of the deep, and they will land at the river mouth of Irensis. We overfly the army at the Pass of Tryiora, and may Nature protect us all.”

A huge force assembled a mile west of Tryiora. Of those present, the elves were the most plentiful. Five regional armies had met and melded under one flag at the beginning of the war, but in few circumstances had the force ever massed together as they did now. Contrary to the belief of dwarves that all elves looked alike, Kauli saw the tanned faces of the southern elves, the solid black faces of the forest elves, nut-brown complexions common to the central mountain range, the pale elves of the far north and the biscuit-tan of his own people, who hailed from the region under attack. Most of them were infantry, trusting more to their swift feet than to any landbound steed. Kauli waved greetings to the few he knew. Some friends were missing. He would wait until after the battle to find out their fate. It would not help him in battle to know he had more loved ones to mourn.

The hundred or so dwarves, armored in shining ring mail with axes and hammers at their sides, bearded to a man, rode stocky ponies, short-legged bullocks, and curly-headed rams that pawed the ground impatiently. The centaurs, for there were a few of the equine race present, towered over their strong allies. Like the elves, they carried bows as well as swords. A few dryads nipped in and out between the slender trees, disappearing into the substance of the wood and emerging on the other side. Kauli found it fascinating. Fili was too tense to study his fellow countrymen. After his superior had snapped at him a few times, Kauli kept his observations to himself. He admitted that part of his scrutiny was to keep his own mind off the coming battle.

The Elven Queen’s generals decreed that this pass was the best place to engage the new army of the Blood Host. As it had chosen to land at Irensis, it must come this way if it wanted to attack the queen’s forest-city of Crenn, the most likely target foreseen. Many of the enemy force did not need roads, such as the vampires, but the wyrm could not fly. Its exhalations were so caustic they burned the flesh off one’s bones. Its claws were so sharp they cut the air into ribbons. Its body was strong enough to crush any unfortunate being caught in its toils. If only they could stop it here, they would save so many lives. Kauli feared it, but he would give his life to protect his homeland.

The flutter of wings brought everyone’s eyes up to the treetops. A messenger in blue livery mounted upon a huge eagle came circling down to land at Bakolli’s feet. He leaped from the bird’s back and dropped to one knee.

“The Blood Host is but ten miles distant, Commander. The giants have lost half their number. We are the ones who must halt them.”

Bakolli turned to his officers. “This is it, then. Muster your forces. We join in battle within the hour.”

Waiting was the worst part. Kauli on Rabena and Fili on Milda hovered at the head of the file beside Bakolli. The pass was a mile behind them. Two hundred archers, elves, and centaurs, along with two dozen wizards, were arrayed in the hills to provide coverfire and to act as the last line of defense should their opponents break through. The others held ready, waiting for the enemy to swarm the narrow river valley.

Kauli’s bow began to slip in his hands. He palmed the sweat onto his pants leg. He had two quivers on his back. The left was full of ordinary arrows; the right, silver-tipped to kill the undead invaders.

Suddenly, the air was full of twisting snakes. The fangs that he had seen in his dream were all around him. Kauli grabbed for his knife. Rabena let out a shrill whinny of fear and began to kick.

“Up, up!” Fili yelled, striking at the foe. He spurred Milda upward. “Get above them!”

Kauli followed. He slashed at the snakes. They recoiled, hissing. Luckily, none of them had bitten him yet. He feared for his mare’s well-being. The pegasus bounded around with fear.

“Calm down!” Bakolli shouted. “It’s all illusion! Hold steady!”

Around them, other commanders yelled orders. On the ground, the dwarves pressed forward, swinging their axes. Not all of the attackers were illusions: unearthly screams rose as sinuous bodies flew into the air, black ichor dripping from their wounds. Kauli guided Rabena back into line, chanting soothing rhymes and stroking her neck. The poems, drawn from ancient lore, even calmed a few of the butterflies in his stomach. He soon saw the snakes for what they were, and sheathed his knife. Best to wait for a real target.

A white light suffused the air, and the illusions disappeared. The pegasi stopped kicking and calmed down. The only steed that hadn’t panicked was Eurwood’s lower half. The centaur hung in the air like an effigy. Kauli began to envy him his detachment. Once the spell had been broken, he could see how few snakes there had been. Below them, the last few were crushed to death under the hooves of the dwarven cavalry.

Trasbre, the scout, came flying back, leaning low over the neck of his steed. “The wyrm approaches, Captain!”

Bakolli nodded. He cocked his arm and beckoned the Cavalcade forward. Below them, the infantry and cavalry were already on the move.

Like a black cloud on the horizon, the vampires swept down upon them. These were real. The gray-skinned undead carried with them the miasma of the grave. Many of the horses, already panicked by the illusion of the snakes, shrieked. A few fled, carrying their hapless riders toward the mountain pass. Kauli was proud that not one of the pegasi tried to desert.

Bakolli brought up the saber and dropped the point. At the command, the Cavalcade zoomed out of the sky, firing silver-tipped arrow after arrow at the pale undead. Kauli saw the first bolts strike. The bodies exploded into dust. The captain gestured again, and the winged horses stroked their way back into the sky. The pilots divided into two groups, and plunged down once more in two streams that crossed over the leading edge of the enemy’s line. They destroyed many of the foe before the two armies met.

The dwarves engaged the vampires, striking them with their great war hammers. The undead recoiled as they realized that the crushing weapons were clad with silver foil. Alas, their wielders were not. The vampires dodged with unearthly speed and lighted upon the backs of their enemy, clawing away the mail coifs, seeking the large artery in the neck. The dwarves divided into pairs, each striking at the parasitical beast upon his partner’s back.

Some of the vampires rose into the sky after the pegasi. The saber swept upward. Kauli led his pilots up and around into their primary defensive formation. Eurwood, unfamiliar with the patterns, was left hanging in the air with a dozen vampires rushing toward him with avid eyes and outstretched claws. Fili and his wingman were closest. They peppered the undead with arrows until the hapless centaur was at the center of a cloud of gray and black dust. Fili emerged from it with Eurwood on his tail. The newcomer wiped the dust from his eyes and regarded the First Underofficer with respect.

“My thanks. I owe you, elf.”

Fili waved a hand. “Nothing to it, centaur.”

Eurwood shook his head. “I never forget a debt.”

Below them, what vampires remained had passed pushed past the dwarves and into the path of the elven army. The fallen warriors were necessarily forgotten for the moment in the teeth, literally, of the onslaught of werewolves who followed. The hairy, gray-pelted creatures each wore a jet medallion with a round, gleaming white gem at their center—a moonstone! It permitted them to retain their cursed shape no matter what the phase of the moon.

These did not march so much as swarm. With the moon madness upon them, they recognized no authority. Trolls with whips drove them from the flanks. They fell upon the doughty dwarves with ululating howls. The dwarves, well-organized and well-armed, dealt with these so well there was no need for the Cavalcade overhead to do anything but kill the trolls at the sides. Without their keepers, many of the werewolves fled, scrambling off into the forest that lined the hills. Bakolli gestured to let them go. The trees and their guardians were waiting.

They had no time to watch. A sharp pain lashed Kauli’s face. He gasped and turned, reaching for his knife. A harpy! The female, hovering above Rabena’s head, let out a shriek of delight and tasted her claws. Kauli was disgusted by her ugliness. They had the head and torso of an elf, but the wings, back, and talons of a great bird. Their size made them formidable foes, and their huge, black wings allowed them to fly as silently as owls. All at once, the other battles they had fought against her kind came rushing back to him. He struck out at her.

“Pay no attention, pay with your life!” she shrilled, and flicked her powerful wings so she was just out of his reach. She dropped again the next moment, landing on Rabena’s neck. The mare whinnied in terror as the harpy’s foot-claws slashed, drawing lines of blood on the bronze pelt. Kauli reached for an arrow, but before he could nock it, another took the harpy in the throat. With a yell, the ugly creature fell out of the sky, trying to pull the arrow out with her claws. Kauli soothed the wounded mare, chanting a healing spell to close the wounds. True healing must wait for the end of battle. Fili flew close. It was his arrow that had saved their lives. Kauli saluted his friend in thanks.

“Here’s his family,” Fili shouted, pointing at the harpies. “We’ll see whether he defects or remains true.”

The hot red flush of Eurwood’s face told Kauli he had heard Fili’s jibe, but the centaur stayed in formation with the other pilots in Kauli’s line, lending a hand to wingmates on either side. A huge male harpy harried him from above. He closed his wings and dropped several yards to give himself range to draw his bow. The male followed him, trying to light on his back and tear out his spine.

“Mutation! Crossbreed!” the harpy bellowed.

“Pilots!” Kauli shouted. Elves nudged their pegasi around and harried the black-winged male. He withdrew a few more yards, but came rushing back, claws out, yelling a war cry.

“The Blood Ho . . . !” was all that came out before an arrow buried itself to the feathers in his chest. He looked down in surprise. His wings went limp, and he fell like a stone, disappearing into the melee below. Eurwood’s cheeks burning red as he lowered the bow.

“Guess he’s one of ours after all,” Fili said, “but one kill doesn’t make a hero. Cavalcade, aloft!”

The cry went up from beneath them. “Wyrm! Wyrm!”

Suddenly the valley seemed filled by a twisting, writhing body. The long, scaled body was the color of red river clay or scarred flesh. At its widest point, it was more than ten feet across, and Kauli estimated it at over a hundred feet long. When it raised its head, it opened a sharp-toothed maw big enough to engulf an entire pegasus. It crawled along on four thick, jointed legs, and its stubby, knobbed feet were armed with curved talons that glistened with the blood of its victims.

Dwarves and elves surrounded the creature, pounding or slashing at it with their weapons. The wyrm lifted the center of its body and slammed it down on whole companies of soldiers, smashing them and their steeds to the ground. Cries of pain tore at Kauli’s heart.

Bakolli signed to the Cavalcade to begin their crossflight attack. The pilots separated into three lines. While one stayed aloft to protect their backs from the harpy flock, the other two spurred their pegasi downward. Kauli felt the rush of wind in his face, and it stirred his blood. He drew and loosed arrows as fast as his hand could move. Their orders were to aim at the wyrm’s eyes, its most vulnerable features. If they could blind it, they would gain a huge advantage.

One bolt, marked with Fili’s colors, lodged in the beast’s left eye. It let out a bellow and thrashed around in pain, causing more confusion among the wyrm’s defenders as well as its attackers on the ground. The pilots cheered. The monster could be beaten!

Most of the arrows bounced off the overlapping plates on the creature’s back.

“Aim under the scales,” Bakolli shouted.

The crossflight changed direction for its second pass.

“Aim for its neck!” Fili commanded. Kauli echoed the order. As the beast flexed its muscles, the heavy scales rippled upward. The interval during which its pale underskin was visible was brief, but long enough. Even arrows that rebounded were enough to distract the creature away from the forces mustering around it. A dwarven contingent surged forward and attacked the wyrm’s exposed throat and one of its feet in a dual sortie. They managed to chop off a toe as large as one of their number by the time Kauli came around for another pass.

“Again!” Bakolli commanded. Fili signed to Kauli. The two of them led their winged forces down over the wyrm’s back. It twisted more energetically now, beset as it was by many enemies. Elves dodged nimbly around the huge feet, slashing at the softer scales of its belly. Suddenly, the wyrm turned its head and breathed. Kauli’s eyes watered from the caustic smell. He could almost see the exhalation. Dozens of elves staggered and fell to the ground. A few stopped moving altogether. The pilots set their jaws grimly. This was its chief weapon. The claws and teeth they could manage, but the poison of its breath could kill more than any of those.

Bakolli watched the hand signals of the commanders on the ground, then directed the air cavalry around in another pass at the monster’s neck. Arrows thwacked into the flesh underneath the scales. Most of the hits, Kauli noted, were black-banded arrows fired by Eurwood. He signaled praise to the winged centaur. The others had not missed their new companion’s prowess even under fire. They began to make way for him, protecting him from the remaining harpies and vampires that plied the thermal gusts in the narrow valley. Eurwood scored again and again. The wyrm began to show signs of distress, tossing its head wildly.

Fili raised his hand and led his line of pilots downward. Instead of remaining to the rear, he brought his force around and under the writhing head, aiming at the paler, thinner scales of its throat. Milda’s hooves narrowly missed the helmet of the dwarven captain, who gave him a dirty look, but Fili shot two arrows that lodged deep under the wyrm’s jaw.

But fortune was not smiling upon the First Underofficer. As he urged Milda upward, the heavy head came around and knocked the pegasus heavily to one side. The mare fluttered madly, trying to regain her equilibrium. Fili’s bow went flying as he held on tightly with both knees and hands. The wyrm sniffed audibly, seeking the thing that it had struck. Milda pawed the air, seeking to gain altitude, but she had no time. The wyrm breathed. Fili slumped over the mare’s back. Milda’s head tilted upward, her wings went limp, and she began falling.

“No!” Kauli cried. Already he and the rest of the Cavalcade were winging down to rescue their companion. The wyrm roared as the elves shot it with dozens of arrows, trying to get it away from the distressed pilot and his steed.

“Cover me!” a hoarse voice cried.

Eurwood broke out of the ranks and shot downward, his huge black wings almost closed in a controlled fall. Kauli hoped that he would not lose control. He ordered the rest of the line to distract the beast—anything—to prevent another casualty. They did not fail him.

The centaur dropped below the belly of the falling mare and ducked his head underneath her barrel. She landed across his back. The two of them fell another twenty feet before he opened his great wings and flapped with all his might. The wyrm heard the commotion, and swung its head back to kill whatever was troubling it.

Kauli ordered Rabena close enough to the wyrm to dance on its head. The mare kicked at the beast’s one remaining good eye, then sprang upward, eluding the fatal breath by the width of a hair. He ordered her to circle around.

With an escort of half the Cavalcade, Eurwood set down his burden near the tree line. Healers converged upon the three of them: the wounded mare, the unconscious pilot, and the rescuer, whose face was red, and whose wings fluttered limply along his back.

The rest of the battle blurred in Kauli’s mind. He knew more from report than from memory that the dwarves and elves, given the protection of the Cavalcade, managed to slash open the wyrm’s throat. It died only a quarter mile from the mountain pass. The other enemy combatants were hunted down one by one over the countryside. Shoi’ana was saved—until the next onslaught of the Blood Host.

Eurwood sat in his accustomed place in the glen, a mug in his hand. The joints at the base of his wings were bound in linen bandages. They had been so badly sprained that the healers instructed him and Kauli, as his commander, that he was not to attempt so much as a flutter for at least ten days.

“I’ll spend it drinking, then,” the centaur declared.

There wasn’t an elf that would deny him the pleasure. Nor did Eurwood lack for company in his indulgence, little though he seemed to relish it. He had but to drain his mug, and one or more of his admiring comrades would be on hand, ready to refill it. By the second night’s sing, two of them had come up with songs extolling Eurwood’s deed. The centaur made a few gruff comments about their quality, but Kauli suspected he was secretly pleased.

Fili had been under the healers’ care for several days, but as soon as he recovered strength enough to stand, he demanded that Kauli help him to the centaur.

“I owe you my life,” he told Eurwood. “More than that, I owe you thanks for saving my mare. She is dear to my heart. Be assured of my eternal friendship. I am sorry if there has been a misunderstanding between us.”

“It’s nothing, First Underofficer,” Eurwood said shortly. “Go curry your pegasus or something.”

“I offer you my friendship,” Fili said, his pale cheeks red. “Why do you continue so hostile?”

Eurwood looked him straight in the eye. “Because I heard you call me freak. That was not lost upon me. You made many remarks about harpies, always so I could hear them. My father was a man of honor, elf, perhaps more honorable than you. You know the length of their marriage, but never thought to ask why they are no longer together. He flew out to resist the first incursion of the harpies of the Blood Host. He died in battle six years ago. I joined the Cavalcade to honor his memory.”

Fili had the grace to look deeply ashamed. “I knew nothing of this, Eurwood.”

“And never asked, not once. Kauli asked, but I was too full of anger to tell him all. I am accustomed to being alone, First Underofficer. I have never belonged anywhere. The harpies won’t claim me, the centaurs reject me as an abomination, and when I find the first place where I would think it would be natural to fit in, you push me away out of hand. I will continue to serve, but I expect nothing from you. Beneath your gratitude, you are the same as you were before the battle.”

Fili sat down heavily beside him. “I assure you, I am not. I have had much time to think during my convalescence. I have fought against harpies many times in the past eight years. I saw only the destruction they wreaked, and the pleasure they took in it. I never knew that any of their kind were creatures capable of love or honor. I found myself wondering if, in your place, I would have sacrificed myself to save you as you saved me. Your heart was greater than mine, and I am humbled.

“I have let my past experiences color the present. I do not excuse it. I apologize, with all my heart, Eurwood. It is true that I react to anything that is different with suspicion. But quite often our suspicions are true.”

Eurwood snorted into his mug. “They will always come true if you greet any new experience with scorn and bad blood. I am used to it. Let it pass.”

“No,” Fili said, extending his hand.“You are right. I should have welcomed you. Kauli, here, was far wiser than I. Let us give each other another chance. I have much to learn from you. Will you allow me and teach me?”

He held the hand in place while Eurwood finished his drink and poured another one. At last, the centaur put down his mug and clasped the hand. “Very well. You might mean what you say.”

“I do,” Fili said.

“And I,” Kauli said, letting out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. “I would be proud to be your friend. We may not have had much in common to begin with, but we are all proud to be airborne.”

“Yes,” Eurwood said, with a sheepish grin. “Though you ought to know better than to trust a relationship built on air.”

The three of them laughed together. For the first time, Eurwood looked truly at ease. Kauli sensed something like a wound closing in the centaur’s heart.

“Come!” Fili called to the other pilots. “Join our new friend in a toast to the Cavalcade. May we always be airborne together!”

Kauli drank that toast gladly.