The plains fell away behind them in a haze of gold and wind, their home now just a line of light across the horizon. Before them yawned Akana Gorge, a vast wound of red stone and shadow, its walls shimmering like hammered bronze beneath the noon sun. The sand that cloaked its rim gleamed pale and shifting, rippling in long waves until it spilled down into the heart of the chasm. It had been Rhoden’s idea to go east. “It’s only a gorge,” he had said, grinning wide as dawn, wings stretched to catch the heat of morning. “What’s the worst that could happen? Gold? Glory? Perhaps a crown that finally fits this noble head.” Raider had given him a long look. “Or a cave full of bones that used to say the same thing.” Viper, trailing behind with the breeze in her mane, had only smiled. “Then I’ll bring bandages.” And so they went. Rather than take the of the great southern mouths, broad, well known paths long picked clean by scavengers, they found a narrow descent beneath a drift of pale sand. The ledge curved down like a forgotten stairway, glittering faintly, the air there was cooler, dry and mineral. Rhoden flew above them, gliding lazily along the canyon’s spine, sunlight rippling across his copper feathers. He called down when the path bent sharply, or when some strange pattern caught his eye; a shimmer like water, a spiral carved into the rock, a bird’s shadow that wasn’t quite a bird. Occasionally he dropped low to walk beside them, hooves stirring dust, voice warm with chatter. To pass the climb, he turned the talk to mischief. “You remember the autumn festival?” Rhoden called from above. “The music, the lights, the food that could kill a stallion if he ate too much?” Raider grunted, which in his language meant yes. Rhoden’s grin widened. “You should’ve seen the way they looked at Viper when she danced. Half the herd couldn’t keep their eyes on their own hooves.” Viper laughed, bright and lilting. “And you were any better? You nearly set your tail on fire trying to impress the drummers.” “That was artistic expression,” Rhoden said solemnly. Raider snorted. “It was stupidity.” “Same thing, depending on who you ask.” Their laughter mingled with the wind, echoing off the canyon walls. As they descended, the talk turned from festivals to old market streets and the weapon stalls they’d passed days before. “There was that dragonlance,” Rhoden said, eyes gleaming. “The one with the inlaid hilt and silver runes down the shaft. I’ve been thinking about it.” “You couldn’t even lift it,” Raider muttered. “I could lift it just fine. Flying with it would be the problem.” “Then buy something you can actually use,” Raider said dryly. “I saw a sword there, broad as my chest, heavy enough to split stone. That’s a weapon.” “That’s a boulder with a handle,” Viper said, grinning. “You’d need both of you to swing it.” Rhoden threw her a wink. “He’s compensating for something.” Raider gave him a look sharp enough to cut granite. “You’re about to find out what.” Viper stifled her laugh, nearly tripping over her own hooves. “You two will be the death of me.” Still they went on, the sun climbing higher, the gorge breathing its dry heat around them. Strange shrubs clung to the cliffs, their roots winding through cracks that bled faint moisture. Tiny silver lizards darted from shade to shade, and high above, buzzards circled like flecks of soot against the bright sky. Every sound was magnified, the clatter of stone beneath Raider’s hooves, the rhythmic sweep of Rhoden’s wings, the faint chime of wind threading through crystal veins in the rock.