Silver Wing had managed to stay aloft for a sufficient length of time to reassure him that it was not an accident and that the pegasus was actually capable of flying for long distances.

He had grown accustomed to being able to work the most powerful spells of the magical art, but he was upset by simply being mounted upon a flying horse.

He had a suspicion as to the reason why that was. When working magic, control of the ritual was his. Flying this way, he was utterly reliant on the ability of his steed. He knew that there were spells that would slow the fall of anyone dropping from a great height, but he had never taken the trouble to learn any of them. He made up his mind to rectify this omission as soon as he was given the opportunity, if he ever was. It had been a lamentable oversight in his magical education. In fact, he thought, as he flew he would do his best to derive some from first principles.

The saddle creaked. He tried to push thoughts of the straps coming undone from his mind.

After many hours of flight, Teclis saw the curve of a vast silver river below him. From his memory of the maps he had once studied in the tower he reckoned this was the Everflow, which at this point marked the ancient boundary between Avelorn and Saphery. Here the rule of the wizard-princes gave way to that of the Everqueen. He knew the river ran a long way northwards to its sources in the mountains of Chrace, but it was at least a landmark to navigate by.

The forests beneath him were changing. The woods seemed deeper, older, the trees taller and darker. These woods were quieter than those of Saphery. There was a magic here just as deep but more still and subtle. In Saphery the magic felt like the product of intelligent intervention, of spells, old and well woven. Here the land itself was magical. Power flowed through it and sometimes formed deep pools. Not all of those pools were pure. In some places, Teclis sensed the taint of an evil as ancient as the world. It seemed somehow appropriate. No place was entirely free of the taint of darkness, not even ancient, noble Avelorn. He wondered if Tyrion had found this out yet.

The thought struck him that Tyrion might have found this out and died. He pushed that thought to one side. Such a contingency was simply not possible. He would know if it had happened. Another thought, just as discouraging, replaced it. This was a quest that was more difficult than looking for a needle in the proverbial haystack or a single grain of sand on a beach. Avelorn was a vast land, mostly wilderness, and he was no woodsman. How was he going to find his twin? Looking down from above, he could see almost nothing through the canopy of leaves and branches. Even being mounted on a pegasus was not going to be much of an advantage.

He could try a spell of location.