Sparrow Rising

by Jessica Khoury

  Her eyes slid to Nox, their gazes connecting. He looked back at her, his dark freckles stark against his pale face.

  The gargol released another ear-shattering screech, its claws digging deeper into the rock, and then it launched away. Still Ellie could not see it, but the heavy beat of its wings was unmistakable, great whump-whumps of air.

  Then it was gone.

  For several long minutes, no one spoke. Embarrassed, Ellie pulled her hand from Nox’s. His palm was as sweaty as her own. She stared at Bratton’s abandoned boots and the careful stitches along the toes where he—or someone who’d loved him—must have patched up holes. Behind her terror came a wave of shame and anger, in a thick, ugly tangle that clotted her lungs. She hated cowering like this. She hated feeling so scared she couldn’t breathe.

  “Sparrow, are you …” Nox faltered.

  “I’m fine,” Ellie snapped. “Better than poor Bratton, anyway.”

  “Poor Bratton?” echoed Nox. “You realize that was the same slimeball who was about to clip your wings and cut my throat?”

  “Nobody deserves that,” Ellie whispered, still gazing at the empty boots. “Nobody.”

  “Excuse me,” said Gussie, her voice strained. “But did I lose it for a minute there, or did that skystone float?”

  Nox raised his hand, then slowly opened it finger by finger. The four of them stared as, freed from Nox’s grasp, the skystone lifted gently from his palm and began once more to rise. The thief grabbed hold of it, then released it again. Still it bobbed up, like an apple underwater, rising for the surface.

  Ellie had seen a rock like that before, she was sure of it. She stared hard at the skystone, trying to remember what it reminded her of.

  Ellie started to reach for it, but Nox got it first, giving her a narrow look. “Only I touch it.”

  “It’s lighter than air,” whispered Gussie. “But how? That’s impossible. Rocks don’t float.”

  “Magic,” breathed Ellie.

  “Oh, c’mon. There’s no such thing as magic.” Nox pressed the stone back into the iron band, clicking it into place. The metal weighed it down and made it hang from the chain like an ordinary rock again. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter if it can float, sing, or play cards. It’s worth a fortune, and I intend to cash it in.”

  “Of course you do,” grumbled Ellie.

  As a distraction, she tried to puzzle out how the stone worked and why it felt so familiar. Not that she thought she’d forget something like a magic rock. Still, she just couldn’t shake the feeling …

  But her mind wouldn’t concentrate, instead slipping back to Bratton’s choked scream as the gargol had seized him, and the monster’s stony claws inches above her head.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Her chest pinched, ribs pressing her heart. Flashes of memory spasmed in her mind—gargol claws, her parents’ screams, the burst of white armor and steel that was the Goldwing knight. Sunflowers, sunflowers spread as far as the eye could see, beaming their sunny yellow gazes as if everything were all right. As if nothing had happened. As if none of it mattered.

  No.

  She wouldn’t let the past swallow her up. She wouldn’t become like that Sparrow kid Mother Rosemarie had brought from Mossy Dell, after he’d lost his parents to gargols. That kid had worn his grief like a shroud, never speaking, never looking anyone in the eye, never laughing or smiling or playing. He’d just sat there, as if the gargol had snatched out his soul and left the shell of his body behind. Only when someone made a loud, sudden noise did he stir, falling into a fit of shrieks and diving beneath beds or tables. A boy ruled by fear. Consumed by it.

  That wouldn’t happen to Ellie.

  She could control her fear. Push it back. Banish it, by force of will. She would not be afraid. She would be a Goldwing, and soon, when she faced another gargol, she would face it head-on. All she had to do was reach Thelantis, win that sky-blasted race, and finally, finally put on her knight’s armor.

  No more hiding.

  No more fear.

  Ellie was first to crawl out the next morning, beneath a sky so clear it was if the storm had never happened. The river must have risen higher in the night, because it had swept away Bratton’s boots, but now it burbled peacefully.

  It wasn’t yet dawn, the sky just barely pink. The others were still sleeping. Twig’s collection of animals was like a living, breathing fur coat. Squirrels, hedgehogs, mice, and some animals Ellie didn’t even have names for clung to him, with Lirri in the place of honor against his cheek. Gussie lay with her head on her arm, drooling, her other hand curled protectively around her bag of parts. Nox’s wings wrapped around him, so all Ellie could see of him was a bundle of black feathers and hair.

  By the river’s edge, Ellie spread her feet wide and drew a deep breath. She’d gotten distracted from her morning routine since leaving Linden, but the gargol attack had reminded her what was at stake. She had to be prepared for the race.

  She set down The King’s Ladder on the driest rock she could find, open to the pages depicting the twelve steps. A routine of stretches and fighting poses, there was one set of moves for each of the twelve virtues the book taught. They were meant to help knights in training remember the lessons by practicing them both mentally and physically. Performing the steps had become her morning ritual, but she hadn’t done it since leaving home three days ago.

  The fluid moves took her from one form to the next in a smooth flow of motion. Legs wide, arms high, legs crossed, body bent, slow, precise turns and twists and reaches. She whispered the name of each step as she performed it: “Humility, courage, honesty.”

  The smooth stone bank provided solid footing, and her bare feet pressed against the stone for stability. Her wings worked too, spreading, folding, synchronized with her other limbs for balance.

  “Loyalty, generosity, obedience.”

  High above, the canyon walls blocked much of the sky, but the golden glow that burned along their edges told her the sun was now rising.

  Ellie moved into the sparring portion of the routine. Strength, discipline, sacrifice. She punched, ducked, rolled, kicked, envisioning her opponent. This morning, her imagination conjured up Zain. Perseverance, responsibility, honor. She could almost hear his laughter as she jabbed a fist at his eye. Sometimes, he’d joined her in the routine, and whenever she’d actually managed to land a blow, he’d insisted he let her do it. She hadn’t realized it, but even then he didn’t truly believe in her. How could she have been so blind?

  Careful, her conscience warned her. You’re starting to sound like you agree with that thief.

  No. She gritted her teeth. Just because she’d been wrong about Zain, that didn’t mean she was wrong about the Goldwings.

  “Your hips are too stiff,” said a voice.

  Surprised, Ellie lost her balance mid-kick and toppled over with a yelp. She landed on her rear in the river shallows, the smooth black pebbles much sharper than they appeared.

  “Gussie! You can’t just sneak up on me like that.”

  The Falcon girl stood a few strides up the bank, arms folded as if she’d been there a while.

  Ellie hauled herself up, wringing water from her tunic. “I know what I’m doing,” she said.

  “If you did, then you’d know the energy you put in a punch starts in your feet and travels through your hips. Stiffen the hips, you block the energy. You’ve got to loosen up a little.”

  Ellie tilted her head, looking at Gussie more closely. “I thought you didn’t do warrior stuff.”

  “Not anymore.” Gussie shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I wasn’t trained for it since before I could walk. Sparring was considered more important than actual literacy in my family.”

  Ellie clapped her hands together, elated. “Will you teach me? Please, oh please—”

  Gussie waved a hand. “No. Like you said, I don’t do that stuff anymore. It’s stupid, all the punching and kicking and solving problems with brute force. The only thing fighting ever produces is more
fighting.”

  “Well, it might stop a gargol,” muttered Ellie. “It might have saved my parents.”

  She resumed her routine, hurling punches at the air, her jaw tight. She worked for another minute in silence, ignoring Gussie. Then, when she spun to flick another punch at the air behind her, her fist met Gussie’s outstretched palm.

  Breathing hard, Ellie froze, matching gazes with the Falcon girl.

  “The only person you’re going to hurt punching like that,” said Gussie, “is yourself. And me, because it’s so painful to watch.”

  Ellie stepped back. “You can make fun of me. I don’t care. I’ve heard it from plenty of people already.” Squaring her feet, she resumed her punches. “I’ve heard it all.” Punch. “Too small.” Punch. “Too weak.” Punch. “Too Sparrow.” Punch. “Well, turns out I’m also too stubborn.”

  She kicked, punched again, and spun—to find Gussie swinging for her face.

  “Like this,” Gussie said. Ellie gasped and clumsily dodged, shocked at the power rocketing through Gussie’s arm.

  “See?” said Gussie. “Drive through the hip.”

  Ellie eyed her, wondering at the Falcon’s sudden change of heart. “Show me again.”

  They sparred up and down the water’s edge, then in the shallows of the river. Braced against the current, bare feet struggling for footing on the pebbled riverbed, the girls exchanged punches and kicks. Gussie showed Ellie moves she’d never seen and taught her how to adjust her stance and attacks to compensate for her smaller stature.

  “You’re half the size of most high clanners,” said Gussie. “And half as strong.”

  When Ellie began to scowl, Gussie added, “What you think of as weaknesses are actually strengths. You’ve just got to use them right. You’re quicker, you can be smarter, and your small size makes you a smaller mark. They won’t expect that. They’re used to swinging at higher targets. You’ll put them off balance, and that’s when you’ll find your opening.”

  Nox and Twig had woken while the girls were sparring. Nox sat on a rock upstream, trying and failing to spear a fish with a sharp stick he’d fashioned. Twig explored the water, lifting rocks and poking at things that wriggled in the mud. He’d rolled up his trousers and left his shirt on the bank. It was the first time Ellie had seen his back and the ropey scars where the circus master had whipped him for releasing all the animals. She turned away, feeling sick and angry, but not wanting him to notice she’d seen.

  “So why’d you help me?” she asked Gussie. “What happened to fighting is stupid?”

  “Trust me, it is,” Gussie said dryly. “But I guess … I know what it’s like, to be told you shouldn’t be who you are. To have your own clan disapprove of you.”

  Ellie waited, wondering if the girl would finally open up about her past. Her curiosity buzzed but she bit her tongue, knowing that if she pried, Gussie was more likely to shut down than talk.

  Gussie picked up a black pebble and squeezed it. “I can see how badly you want to ask, Sparrow. So go on. Get it over with.”

  Ellie burst out, “Where’s your family?”

  “In Vestra, where they’ve been for generations.”

  Vestra. The ancestral clan seat of the Falcons. All Ellie knew of the place was that it sat atop harsh cliffs overlooking the sea, and that it was famous for producing some of the toughest warriors in the Clandoms.

  “They have very firm ideas about what Falcons are and are not supposed to be,” Gussie continued, rolling the pebble in her palm. “And scholar is definitely in the unacceptable column. So when I announced I wouldn’t attend the Vestra Warrior Academy like every other kid in my clan … well, let’s say that was one awkward family dinner.”

  “They wanted to make you into something you’re not,” Ellie said softly. “I know what that feels like.”

  Gussie tilted her head. “Yeah. I guess you do.”

  “So you ran away like I did?”

  She gave a short, acidic laugh. “I didn’t even have a chance to. They kicked me out, then and there.”

  “They … what?” Ellie’s eyes went round.

  “It’s called a farflight,” sighed Gussie. “When a kid from a high clan refuses the family business, they get sent out to ‘wander the wilderness until they find their inner warrior.’ ” Her voice turned mocking. “Most kids on a farflight return in a few days, their wills broken. But a lot of them either take up quiet lives far away, or … don’t survive at all.”

  Ellie looked at the river, not wanting Gussie to see the horror in her expression.

  And she’d thought the Sparrows had been tough on her.

  What kind of people threw out their own child just because they wanted something different in life?

  “Not all Falcons are like that,” Gussie added. “Many of the families who live outside Vestra aren’t so … traditional. But I guess I drew the unlucky card.”

  “No,” Ellie said harshly. “It’s your family who are the unlucky ones. Clearly they couldn’t see how smart you are. I bet one day, when you’re a famous inventor, they’ll beg you to come back.”

  Gussie snorted. “And I’ll tell them to go on a flappin’ farflight.”

  But by the look in her eyes, Ellie guessed the Falcon girl was secretly hoping for that exact thing. Ellie certainly was. The only thing sweeter than imagining herself as a Goldwing knight was imagining celebrating her victory with her Sparrow kin.

  Why was the love that was supposed to be free the hardest kind to earn?

  “I take it you didn’t give in,” Ellie said. “You went to Thelantis with or without their blessing.”

  “Kind of like a stubborn Sparrow I recently met,” Gussie said, with a rare smile. “Yeah. I went to Thelantis to enroll at a university, but none would take me without my parents’ permission. I’d have to wait till I was sixteen before I could enter on my own. I thought I’d find work in the city till then, but my first night there, some goons tried to rob me.”

  “Nox?” Ellie growled, shooting a dagger look at the Crow boy.

  “No, it was a gang of Jay clanners. They wanted to kidnap me for ransom or some stupid thing—it’s a real misconception that all high clan kids come from rich families, you know. I mean, I do, but it’s not like my family would’ve …” She tossed her hand, as if batting away a fly. “Anyway, they start to grab me, and next thing I know, there’s some maniac across the street yelling curses at the guys. They got mad and go beat him up instead, and I took off.” Gussie rubbed her thumb over the pebble, looking lost in the memory. “That maniac was Nox. He made himself a distraction so the Jays would leave me alone. And he got two black eyes and a broken rib for it.”

  Ellie looked upriver, to where Nox had given up on spearfishing and was instead packing his knapsack, preparing for the day’s journey. “He really did that? Without even knowing you?”

  Gussie nodded. “He’s annoying and bossy and half the time you think he’s going to get you killed. But at least you know if anyone dies, he’ll make sure he goes first. I guess that’s why when he offered to let me join his crew, I said yes. There are other monsters besides gargols in Thelantis. You’ve gotta have someone watching your back.”

  Upstream, Nox had taken the skystone out of his shirt. He was tightening the iron band around it, so it wouldn’t float away again.

  “Nox lost his parents, didn’t he?” she murmured.

  Nodding, Gussie said, “He won’t talk about it. All I know is his father’s dead and his mother’s in prison. But because they’re a shattered clan, the Crows can’t take care of their orphans like other clans do. So according to the rules, a kid like Nox would’ve just ended up in some workhouse disguised as an orphanage, hardly better than a slave.”

  “When the rules are designed to break you,” Ellie whispered, “you have to break the rules.”

  Nox’s motto. At first, Ellie had thought it sounded like an excuse to do what he wanted, and to ignore the laws everyone else lived by.

  But m
aybe there was more to it than that, and the world wasn’t as simple as Ellie had thought.

  “Hey!” Nox shouted, landing silently behind Ellie and making her jump nearly out of her skin. “Since when do you two sit around gossiping?”

  “None of your business,” said Ellie.

  “Why? Were you talking about me?” He gave her a cocky grin.

  “Yawn,” said Ellie. “These rocks would be a more interesting subject.”

  He clapped a hand to his heart, as if wounded. “Well, say goodbye to your precious rocks, Sparrow, because we’ve wasted enough time. Twig, put that down and let’s go!”

  Upriver, Twig made a face at Nox and gave the crayfish he was holding to Lirri. The vicious little creature bit the head off in one crunch, then shoved the rest down her throat.

  Ellie sighed and stood up, shaking out her wings. She was not looking forward to another long day of fleeing justice.

  “Hey, what’s that?” Gussie said, pointing.

  A lump of cloth was floating in the water, spinning in an eddy.

  “Someone’s garbage,” said Nox, shrugging. “Leave it.”

  Ellie fluttered to the eddy and plucked the thing out of the water. It dripped all over her shirt. “It’s a doll.”

  It had a clay body clothed in a carefully stitched little dress, complete with an apron and bonnet and wilted felt wings. The expression painted on its face looked startled, the lips a perfect O and the blue eyes wide.

  “Creepy,” said Nox. “Now throw it back and let’s go.”

  “Wait.” Ellie brushed away the mud and leaves from the doll’s face. “Someone scratched a word on her forehead.”

  Nox grimaced. “Okay, double creepy. You’ll probably have seven years’ back luck just for touching that thing.”

  “What’s it say?” asked Gussie.

  Ellie stared at the one-word message, her heart starting to beat faster. Then she looked up at the others and said, “‘Help.’ ”