I flew above the crowns of the jagged Dragon Spine Mountains. The sun seemed frozen in one spot in the sky, but I raced north, faster than any bird had a right to fly.
On a whim, I glanced at the land whipping by below me. Something down there amidst all the jagged rocks paralleled my course north. Points of glowing light glinted off the thing’s scales. Whatever it was, it moved as a snake would—slithering in a serpentine motion across jagged rocks. Watching it made something in my belly twitch in a frisson of panic. It was huge, draping its body over peaks, stretching across ravines without having to climb down in them. When I glided over a break in the mountains—a natural pass defined by sheer rock walls on either side—the thing swung its great bulk out over the opening and flattened its body somehow, spreading its skin and catching the air. It was flying over the pass, but it had no wings.
Beneath it, snaking through the pass were thousands on thousands of men and animals—the part of the army of the Dark Queen that had harassed us on the coast. They looked up at the titanic snake-like thing flying above their heads and cried out in fear. The previously immaculate lines of marching men descended into chaos—trolls bellowing and charging around without rhyme or reason, men diving for cover, Svartalfar peering upwards and casting runes, demons hissing and crouching in place.
I flapped my wings harder, ascending, trying to get away from the giant beast below, hoping all the men in the pass would distract the thing—at least long enough for me to disappear. I swerved toward the east, leaving the mountains and gliding out across the flat, tropical plain below.
Behind me in the mountains, the snake-thing let loose a bellowing cry so loud that it sounded like the end of the world. I glanced over my wing, and a croak of surprise escaped my beak. The thing had coiled around a mountain peak, rearing up as a spitting cobra would, staring at me with burning, hateful eyes.
I turned north, following the coast, and the massive snake in the mountains began his pursuit again, always keeping an eye turned toward me. I tried to fly faster, but I couldn’t outpace the huge beast.
The sun burned overhead, and hot air surrounded me. Sea dragons frolicked in the water below, seemingly enjoying a game of “who-can-catch-the-bird.” They dove deep, then raced to the surface as fast as they could, leaping high into the air and snapping their jaws, even though they never came within a mile of me. They sang and cried to one another and sent those massive sounding clicks up into the sky at me. They were a fraction the size of the thing in the mountains and seemed to be mere animals while my pursuer from the peaks seemed to harbor a hateful intelligence.
I flew on, doing my best to ignore both, and time seemed frozen. The sun never moved, and the wind remained constant, though the animals and men moved at their leisure. Through the shimmer of distance and heat ahead of me, I could see the mountains crowding out toward the eastern shore, rushing right down to the edge of the sea. I thought about the thing in the mountains leaping from the cliff, flattening its body to catch the wind, and gliding as if the beast was at home in the air. I veered eastward, flying out to sea, putting more and more distance between me and the thing in the mountains. When I could no longer see it (though I somehow knew it was still there, still stalking me), I turned north again. I had no destination in mind, but the thought of flying any direction but north made my stomach rebel and nausea swirl in my guts.
I flew on and on, losing track of any sense of time, the wind buoying me, caressing me, relaxing me. In the distance, the continent of Kleymtlant—the forgotten land—squatted like a gargantuan reptile, like an alligator, or Komodo dragon. At the sight of it, dread sank its white-hot fangs into me and delivered its venom—burning, gut-twisting panic.
I didn’t want to go there—not for any reason. Something horrible lurked there, waiting for me, for us. I tried to turn around, but the wind buffeted me so violently that I couldn’t turn. The sea dragons below me cackled, and the thing in the mountains to the west uttered a gloating roar. I fought the wind, trying to angle away to the east, but it gusted, threatening to send me tumbling from the sky.
The tailwind blew harder, pushing me toward Kleymtlant’s rocky shore. The thing coiled in the mountains hissed with glee, and I panicked again, thrashing the air with my wings, twisting my body to and fro, screeching my fear to the heavens.
A relentless wind carried me across the border of land and sea, hurtling me north against my will, against my best efforts. Mountains loomed in front of me, and the great serpent’s eyes glinted there, watching me come. I fought for altitude, and this time, the wind didn’t resist. Climbing higher and higher, I put as much altitude between myself and the snake-thing as I could.
I rocketed over its head, and the thing roared in frustration. I sent a mighty crrruck of victory down at it. The wind carried me ever north, following the chain of mountains until I soared over a huge plain, almost walled in by the mountains. Behind me, the snake-thing’s ire rumbled like mountains falling into the sea.
By land, the plain had only one entrance—from the northeast, through a natural gate of sorts. The biggest army I’d ever seen guarded the gate. Thousands and thousands of legions of armored men, Svartalfar, trolls, and oolfa camped in close proximity to the gate. Tents stretched for miles, all surrounding a magnificent tent of red silk and canvas. Emblazoned on the tent was a sigil I’d never seen before, but knew nonetheless: a giant wolf’s head, half white and half black. The sigil of the Dark Queen herself, the sign of Hel.
As I watched, she burst out of the tent, eyes scouring the sky, as if she knew I was there somewhere but didn’t know my precise location. Short figures wrapped in black cloaks surrounded her, pointing in conflicting directions, laughing, and she swatted at them and shooed them away. I wheeled to the west and beat my wings against the air. I had no doubt she could do something to me, even dressed as I was, as a raven.
Cut into the mountains to the west was a cyclopean edifice. The plain had to be Pilrust, and the huge building was a place known as the Herperty af Roostum—the Rooms of Ruin. Behind me, something hissed and bellowed a roar.
I glanced over my wing. On the plain, next to her red tent, the short figures lay scattered on the ground, and Hel sprinted toward me, her steps lurching from side to side, body contorting. I watched, enthralled as she changed from a tall blonde woman into an immense black dragon.
I shrieked in fear and…