Leo pushed open the sanctuary doors and he and Ottilie stepped inside. Deep growls sounded from all around, and bright eyes blinked from shadowed corners. To her right Ottilie spotted a dark mass snoozing in a sunbeam. Leo was right. It was an enormous chestnut-brown feline with two vast, sleek-feathered wings curled around its sleeping body like a cocoon. The wingerslink rolled onto its back and stretched its front legs over its head, showing its golden belly to the sun. The sight of it took her breath away.
The sanctuary was huge. After many twists and turns, past many a dark pen rumbling with throaty hums, Leo stopped and said, ‘Here’s my partner in crime. Maestro, say hello.’
A dark shape lunged from the shadows. Halting a whisker from the gate, the great beast let out an earsplitting roar. The combination of shock and the wave of hot breath rushing out from behind sword-like fangs was enough to knock Ottilie off her feet.
She stumbled back, just managing to keep her footing. She also managed not to scream, but it was a close call.
Leo laughed, reaching over the gate to pat the wingerslink’s smooth head. ‘Sorry Ott, that’s how he says hello.’
Ottilie was shaking all over.
Maestro was silvery grey and utterly, ferociously beautiful. He had huge, ice-blue eyes with a blotted golden ring around the pupil, enormous padded paws with claws like curved daggers, a heavy, dark grey tail that looked strong enough to crack stone, and two glorious feathered white wings with inky-tipped ends.
‘Hello Maestro,’ said Ottilie, moving towards the pen.
‘Best keep your distance for a bit.’
‘Right.’ Ottilie took a huge step back.
‘I meant don’t pat him.’
‘I wasn’t going to. You think I was going to stick my hand in there?’
Leo laughed. ‘You looked like you might.’
‘I thought you decided I’m clever but not very brave.’
‘Actually, I think I decided you’re stupider than you seem and not very brave.’
Ottilie could have kicked him, but she was distracted by the tolling of the bells.
‘Better get to it,’ said Leo. ‘We need to be out there in half an hour.’ He lifted the latch on the gate. ‘Come on Maestro, time to get acquainted.’
They passed through the swinging doors at the back of Maestro’s pen. There was no latch – it was clear that these wingerslinks could come and go as they pleased. Ottilie supposed she should find that comforting. They were obviously very well trained, or at least exceedingly loyal to their flyers.
Leo and Ottilie climbed down a wooden ladder to the field below. Ottilie had to duck as Maestro leapt over her head to land smoothly on the grass, flattening vast patches of wildflowers under his enormous paws. She and Maestro followed Leo across the field and into a fenced practice yard, both eyeing each other suspiciously behind his back. Leo tightened the double saddle and a disgruntled rumbling sounded deep within Maestro’s chest.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ said Leo, scratching his mount’s rounded ears.
Ottilie could see several other pairs moving out into the practice yard. She was happy to note that all the other fledges looked rather white, some even a little green. She wasn’t the only one who was nervous.
‘All right,’ Leo turned to Ottilie. ‘It’s all in the legs. That’s how you let him know where you want him to go. Obviously I’ll take care of that for now – we need to get you used to being up there first. Plus, I doubt he’d listen to you even if you tried. For today, I’m going to strap your legs in.’ He pointed to two buckled straps. ‘But leg straps are usually just a precaution – if you’re injured and can’t grip with your legs, you can strap them in. Once you get the hang of it, you use the stirrups.’ He pointed to two slots in the leather saddle. ‘If you’re doing it right, you’ll barely need the stirrups, they’re there mostly for if he rolls or tilts, but you want to keep your feet loose enough to jump off if need be.’
Ottilie nodded. Her limbs were uneasy and her stomach churned, its contents scrambled by dread and delight. Leo whistled and Maestro lowered himself right down to the ground.
‘Come on. Up,’ he barked.
Ottilie gripped the saddle and clambered onto Maestro’s back, trying hard to ignore his protesting murmurs and growls.
‘You can do the uppers,’ said Leo, buckling a strap around her left ankle. Ottilie found two more straps and buckled her legs in just below her knees.
It was an unnerving concept, lashing herself to a flying monster’s back, but as the prospect of flying with nothing but her leg muscles to secure her was worse, Ottilie did her best to quash her concerns. Once she was strapped in, Leo leapt up into the saddle in front and settled his feet into the stirrups.
Ottilie couldn’t be sure exactly what Leo did with his legs, but without even transitioning to standing Maestro leapt up into the air. The ascent was a jerky, uncomfortable experience. His great white wings beat up and down, and with them his entire body rose and fell. Ottilie gripped the saddle so hard her fingers cramped.
They rose higher and higher, nearly levelling with the clifftop. Leo seemed to be waiting for something. They circled the lower grounds until the bells sounded. Someone raised a blue flag at the lower boundary gate and Leo nudged Maestro forwards and out over the wall.
They were no longer tucked safely behind high walls, guarded by shepherds and surrounded by armed huntsmen. They were out in the unprotected Narroway. But for Leo, Ottilie was alone with the dredretches. For the first time she felt very thankful that she had been paired with a champion for a guardian, and even more thankful that he was a flyer. She couldn’t bear to think of Gully down below, wandering the forest on foot. She hoped Ned knew what he was doing.
The ride smoothed as Maestro turned his back on the mountains and soared out over the trees to the north. She knew now why Leo had told her to dress warmly. As the cold air lashed her face she felt very grateful for all the wool she’d wrapped around her body.
‘Don’t get lazy. Grip with your legs as if you didn’t have the straps,’ said Leo, and without warning he turned Maestro so sharply that Ottilie was flung sideways and completely unseated but for the lower half of her legs.
‘See, lazy! If you were using the stirrups you’d be hanging from a tree right now.’
Shaken and queasy, Ottilie concentrated on her legs. She didn’t have much time to correct her grip. Leo leaned forwards and Maestro shot almost directly upwards. Flattening his wings to his side, he rolled over in the air three times in a row before spreading his wings and steadying to a glide.
‘Better,’ said Leo.
Ottilie felt giddy – in the best way possible. She was smiling. Mad as it seemed, she did feel safe up here, all strapped in. It was exhilarating.
The feeling didn’t last. A dark shape was approaching from the east. The glare of the sun made it difficult to distinguish, but Ottilie was quite sure it wasn’t another wingerslink.
‘It’s my lucky day,’ said Leo, reaching for his bow.
What was it? Dredretches – it had to be. What kind? Jivvies? Yickers? Ottilie didn’t know any other kinds! Swallowing hard, she reached for her bow.
‘You got your ring on, Ott?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. They’re flares. They’ll have sensed us by now. They’ll come to us – they can’t resist. Flares are really poisonous, so you might feel a bit sick when they come close, but don’t panic. Trust the ring. You’ll be fine. They travel in threes, so you can try for one. They’re quick. You have to anticipate their movements. They tend to move in spirals, it’s their giveaway.’
‘Right.’
‘And always go for the heart – they’ll go for yours.’
Heart pounding in her ears, Ottilie gripped her bow hard. The flares were moving closer. They looked like black lizards the size of small crocodiles. They had thin, batlike wings and long, dark fangs that jutted out of their closed mouths. As they spiralled through the air, tiny fizzing sparks sprung
from their crusty black scales. Coming into range, they shrieked in a chorus of shrill whistles, almost too high to catch.
Ottilie’s head felt a little light and beads of sweat appeared on her nose. She glanced down at the ring on her thumb. Before she could even look up, Leo took out one flare with an arrow.
As the arrow hit, the flare gave a screech so unpleasant Ottilie almost covered her ears with her hands. The other two, excited by the death of the third, sped up their flight, spiralling so quickly around Maestro that Ottilie could barely see them.
A flare dived at Maestro’s neck.
Maestro bared his teeth. Ottilie took aim and missed by a mile, but Leo struck it through the top of its head with a long hunting knife. With an ear-splitting shriek it plummeted towards the ground. Flesh coming apart in the sky, the flare dissolved into a collection of sticky scales and bones.
The third flare came for Maestro’s side. Ottilie moved to kick it out of the way but, inhibited by the straps, she was no use. Leo turned Maestro sharply, avoiding the attack.
Maestro tensed and roared, sending shivers down Ottilie’s spine. The flare was frantic now. It moved so fast it was no more than a black blur against the blue sky. Ottilie had no chance of hitting it. Leo seemed to be thinking the same thing. He circled Maestro, pulled him up to hover, and leapt off the saddle. Holding on to Ottilie ’s straps, Leo flung out his leg and kicked the spiralling blur off-kilter.
The flare spun off-course and slowed to right itself in the air. But before it had the chance to speed up, Leo pulled himself back into the saddle and shot an arrow through its heart.
It was over, and Ottilie had never felt more useless.
21
Rankings
‘Well, you didn’t get in my way. So you did good,’ said Leo, unbuckling the strap around her ankle.
It was late afternoon. The sun was low in the sky, and the wind that had picked up an hour ago had frozen Ottilie’s fingers and toes to icicles. Despite her frozen exterior, her back, chest and legs were caked in sweat. Her skin itched where her uniform stuck to her, glued down by sweat, and she was sure she must be showing a wet patch on her green trousers from clinging to the hot leather saddle for hours on end.
‘Why did they keep going for Maestro? I thought dredretches didn’t care about normal animals,’ said Ottilie, trying to distract herself from the discomfort.
‘They were under attack and they took Maestro for the biggest threat. It happens a lot as a flyer. Once you advance they go for the wingerslink first – it can work in your favour, but obviously you need to protect the wingerslink at all costs. If he falls, you fall.’
Ottilie tumbled down Maestro’s side.
‘You need to work on your aim, and you’re not gripping hard enough with your legs. If you don’t try harder I’m going to make you go up without the straps.’
Ottilie didn’t respond. Her legs were so stiff and shaky she needed to focus all of her concentration on staying upright. How could he possibly say she had not been gripping with her legs? Her legs were one shake away from coming apart at the joints. They must have been doing something all day.
‘Tomorrow I want to give you a go at guiding him. The sooner you start that, the better, because he’s not going to listen to you for a while. When’s your next training session?’
‘Tomorrow morning.’
‘Tell the wrangler I want you practising with knives. They’re really useful when dredretches get up close, but you never go for them. You won’t always be able to angle the bow for close-range shots, especially with two people in the saddle. You need knives in your arsenal.’
Ottilie nodded, her eyelids heavy.
‘And you need to work on your stamina,’ he said, looking her up and down with a disgusted expression. ‘Wake up.’ Leo whipped out his freckly arm and splashed her face with water from Maestro’s drinking trough.
‘Agh!’ Wiping her eyes, she considered splashing him back. It didn’t seem like a good idea.
Leo patted Maestro’s wide, smooth head, muttering something to him that Ottilie couldn’t catch. Maestro curled around, rubbing his nose against Leo’s shoulder.
‘Here, come with me. This’ll wake you up,’ he said, pulling the pen gate shut. ‘I do this most days after I go out. Gives me a sense of accomplishment.’
How Ottilie made it all the way back up the steps into the main grounds she would never understand. Her leg muscles were beyond exhausted and her arms and back didn’t feel great either. Everything felt heavy, shaky and tight, and she had a horrible feeling she would be in a great deal more pain in the morning. When she finally stepped onto the rock poppies at the cliff edge, it felt like more of an achievement than felling those nine jivvies in her trial.
Ottilie followed Leo across the grounds, through a set of arches with raptor statues bursting from the stone, and into a small pentagonal courtyard. Eyes drooping, Ottilie gazed around. Scratched across the surrounding walls were hundreds of names and numbers, filled in with midnight blue paint.
‘We get the scores from all the stations so we can see where we’re at. There’s me, third tier,’ said Leo.
Ottilie looked up. At the very top of ninety-two names, the line read:
1. Leonard Darby 5437
Igor Thrike was below him in second place, down by more than a hundred points.
‘So are today’s points there? What did you get, fifteen?’ said Ottilie.
Leo had taken out a flock of jivvies not long after the flares, and there had also been five yickers below the treetops, which Ottilie had felt particular pleasure in assisting to dispatch by pinning one to a tree with an arrow.
‘No. Seven each for the flares, one each for the jivvies, and eight for the yickers. So forty. That’s pretty good for a patrol day, considering we stuck to the quiet areas.’ He gestured to the right. ‘The fledges’ points are over there. Looks like you need to watch your back.’
Ottilie looked over at the fledges’ rankings. Leo was right. It was a thrill, seeing her name at the very top. Ottilie had managed to fell one jivvie and one yicker, so her score was sitting at twelve. Scoot had crept up to six, and Gully was sitting in second place at eleven. She ran her eyes down the list, looking for Preddy. She spotted him a third of the way down. He was still on the five points from his trial. She supposed he hadn’t taken to the field yet, having only left for Richter the day before.
‘How does the scoring work?’ said Ottilie. ‘How do they know?’
‘I don’t know the ins and outs of it, but the bone singers know every time a dredretch dies. They can sense the death and how it happened, so they know who the points belong to.’
‘But who writes it up there?’
Leo shrugged. ‘It just appears. It’s some trick.’
‘Like a spell?’
‘I guess.’
‘But they can’t be witches?’
Leo laughed. ‘No, of course they’re not witches. There aren’t any witches anymore. The bone singers just do the odd trick, like a mystic or a timekeeper. Who knows. Doesn’t matter to us. As long as they don’t miss any of my points, I don’t care what they do.’
That seemed to be a common attitude in the Narroway: no-one questioned anything. As long as they had their brotherhood, their monsters, and the pursuit of glory, they didn’t seem to care about the details.
‘Ha! Looks like Ned let your brother take all his points. He’s fallen down to seventh!’
‘I was teaching. That was what we were supposed to be doing,’ said Ned, approaching from between the raptor statues. Gully was just behind him. He was filthy. A leaf was sticking out of his hair and he looked about ready to drop.
‘I taught,’ said Leo, grinning.
‘You got fifty points, did you even let him take a shot?’
‘Forty, and yes, plenty. He just kept missing. Didn’t you, Ott?’
‘That is true,’ said Ottilie, shrugging.
‘We got a trick of flares and a bunch of yickers and j
ivvies. What did you get?’ said Leo.
Ottilie assumed trick was the name for three flares grouped together.
‘It was quiet, didn’t come across much. I took a lone lycoat and Gully got a scorver.’
‘You let the fledgling have a scorver? Soft, Ned.’
‘You two should get some rest,’ said Ned. ‘Good work today, Gully.’
‘Thanks,’ said Gully.
‘Ott, work on your aim,’ said Leo.
Ottilie scowled. She and Gully trudged inside. After checking to see no-one was around, Ottilie gently brushed the leaf out of his hair. ‘How’d you go?’
Gully grinned. ‘Great. Did you get to fly? Ned told me about the wingerslinks. I saw one, up through the trees. Couldn’t see who was riding it, though.’
‘Yep. I flew.’ She still couldn’t quite believe it herself.
His eyes widened. ‘Wow.’
‘Gully, what’s a scorver?’
‘Really big thing with spines down its back.’
‘And you took one down?’ She couldn’t picture it. She didn’t want to picture it.
He grinned. ‘All by myself.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘No you didn’t.’
‘Well … Ned knocked it down first, then he gave me the shot.’
‘How is Ned? Do you like him?’
‘He’s great. Do you like yours?’
Ottilie frowned. ‘I don’t know. Not very much.’
‘Least he’s good.’ Gully yawned loudly, his throat croaking in the same way Ottilie’s did when she yawned – which she did, a couple of seconds later.
It had been a very long day, but it would take more than sweaty legs and stiff muscles to make Ottilie skip a meal by choice. The sleepy pair lugged their limbs up the stairs and tramped into the dining room. Scoot was already there, and they ate their dinner to the tune of Scoot bragging about topping Preddy’s unmoved score by one point.
Ottilie Colter and the Narroway Hunt Page 14
