"Your nose is bleeding," Margo points out.
I nod and swipe at it with my sleeve. It's just a trickle, but that might be all the blood left in my body. Who knows at this point. I watch as Kassam moves his hands like a glorious, naked conductor, and the trees sway and move, crawling toward him like the living things that they are, bending to his will.
My griffin shifts underneath me, agitated and impatient, and Margo's does, too. Once the bridge is established, the army will surge forward and Margo and I will take to the air, safe atop two of the griffins, high above the reach of any arrows. We're to wait while Seth and Kassam invade Hrit Svala and remain securely away from the battle, just in case. According to Kassam, they will send a white dove to us when it's safe for us to land.
I'm not going to think about what happens to us on griffin-back if Kassam and Seth are defeated and Kassam loses control of his animals.
Staying in the air atop a griffin seemed like a logical plan, but that was before my brain was being squeezed out of my ears. Dizzy, I clutch at the griffin's feathers as hot wave after hot wave of pain ripples through me. I burned my hand once as a kid and had to go to the emergency room, and I thought that was the worst pain imaginable. That's nothing compared to this. This eats at me, shredding me from the inside as my vision gets blurry and swims with red.
"Carly?" Margo asks, her voice sounding hollow and distant, as if she's down a tunnel.
Something hard snaps inside my head—at the base of my skull. I let out a shattered gasp, choking as another round of blood gushes from my nose.
"Little light?" It's Kassam's voice, reaching me through the dark haze, and I focus on him. I feel strangely light and heavy at the same time, like I was after Seth stabbed me, and I realize it's happening all over again. If I was alive, Kassam would have killed me just now.
But I don't want him to know that, because I'm still here, and it doesn't matter. I raise a shaky hand and put my thumb up again. "I'm good. Go kick ass."
Kassam hesitates, searching my face. I swipe at the blood streaming down my lip and give him another thumbs up. Either he's reassured by my expression or he decides that it's too late to do anything, but he nods at me. "Wait for our dove, my wife. I will send for you."
"I'll be here," I croak, and all the while, my head pounds and pounds.
He flicks a hand, and then the griffins take to the air. Margo screeches in surprise, clinging to her bird-lion. I'm used to the sudden movements of them at this point and I manage to hold on admirably, even as hot needles shoot through my head. As we fly upward, the trees keep twisting and twisting, creating a thick, leafy bridge. The animal army surges forward, and a cheer rises amongst Seth's army, thousands of voices strong. They too far away to see what's happening, but I suspect that the sight of the griffins rising—and the movement of Kassam's army—tells them that things are happening.
My griffin keeps flying higher, until we pass the leafy canopy and I can see nothing but green below. The plumes of smoke from cookfires are absent this morning, the skies an inappropriately cheery blue. Even through the pulsing agony of my head, the noisy madness of the combined armies is everywhere. The men are shouting, the lions roaring, the birds twittering and calling, the woales honking. It's all maddeningly loud, and I peer down at the branches, desperate to see a pair of vine-covered antlers rising from a tangled brown head of hair.
We're too high up, though. I can only hope for the best as the cheering of Seth's army grows louder and my griffin flies away.
It's impossible to tell time atop the back of a griffin high in the sky. It doesn't obey my commands, of course, but waits for a silent order from Kassam. I'm simply a passenger (or a hostage) waiting for orders. The griffin circles lazily over the forest, over and over again, so high up that the wind constantly rips at my hair, and my dry lips feel like sandpaper. The day grows hot and plumes of smoke appear in the trees below—not small, friendly cookfires but larger, darker, ominous plumes that speak of larger structures burning.
I hope that's a good sign, and then I feel like an asshole for being excited to see a city burn.
It's just that…up high, the only thing I can see is blue skies and smoke. I can see Margo pull the hood of her cloak over her head to protect it from the relentless sunlight, but I'm so broken down at this point that it feels like too much effort. I barely manage to cling to the griffin as it circles over the trees, over and over again. My nose eventually stops bleeding, but I don't know if it's because Kassam has abandoned his magic or if he's hurt, or if I've just run out of blood.