Ottilie snapped her eyes shut.
‘All right. When you’re ready, you can open your eyes.’
Ottilie opened her eyes again immediately. Doing nothing should have been easy, but Ottilie had never been worse at anything in her life. She looked across at Scoot. He looked pouty and disgruntled. At least she wasn’t the only one struggling.
Gully seemed refreshed. A sloth’s smile spread across his face as he strolled towards the door. How was it possible that fidgety little Gully was better at this than she was?
‘Ott.’
Leo was standing right outside the door, holding a bundle of weapons. Ottilie almost walked into him.
‘Finally. Come on.’ He shoved the weapons at her and marched ahead.
Diving to catch a dislodged dagger, Ottilie adjusted the bundle in her arms and hurried after him. ‘What are you doing here?’ she said.
‘Bone singers say the rain’s about to stop. I volunteered for a night patrol.’
Ottilie rolled her eyes. ‘Of course you did. I haven’t eaten yet.’
He turned and tucked a single red apple into the crook of her elbow.
‘Thanks.’ She scowled.
24
The Barrogaul
Ottilie and Leo marched through the wet grass to the lower grounds. The sun had already set and twilight was folding in.
‘How are you going with the warding lessons?’ said Leo, pulling open the sanctuary doors.
‘Awful.’
He turned. ‘Why?’
‘I can’t concentrate in there.’
‘You need to try harder. It’s important. I stopped wearing my ring by the end of my fledge year. You don’t want to be the last one to master it.’
‘But how is sitting around staring at candles supposed to help?’
‘Because once you win governance of your mind, you can start to strengthen your mental defences. It’s all in your head, what dredretches do to you.’
‘But I thought it was real. They can kill us by –’
‘That’s not what I mean. The dredretch sickness is real. But there’s no physical injury. They just suck the life out of you.’
‘What’s that got to do with my head?’
‘Because with nothing actually wrong physically, your body can’t surrender your life without the consent of your brain.’
Ottilie scowled. Part of her hated that Leo was so well-educated. It wasn’t fair. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Just imagine that dredretches suck your life out of your ears. Then imagine covering your ears with your hands so it can’t get out. That’s what you’re learning.’
‘I’m learning to cover my ears?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can’t I just wear earmuffs?’ she grumbled.
Leo snorted.
‘And you were good at it – sitting still and doing nothing?’ Ottilie found that very hard to believe.
‘I’m good at everything, Ott.’
‘And you wanted to be the first to stop wearing your ring,’ she said, trying not to smile. ‘Were you?’
Leo kicked a loose stone across the floor. ‘No, that was Ned.’
‘By?’
‘Three weeks.’
She stifled a laugh.
‘He’s never beaten me at anything since, though.’
Ottilie couldn’t keep it in. She let out a cough of laughter, disturbing a sleeping wingerslink. The great flying beast leapt up and slammed itself against its pen, roaring in protest at being woken. Ottilie yelped and bounded away.
Leo, grinning from ear to ear, shoved her back towards the pen.
‘Agh! Leonard!’
‘Call me Leonard again and I’ll throw you in there with it!’
‘Come on, Maestro’s waiting,’ said Ottilie, trying to muster a scrap of dignity.
Maestro was in a particularly friendly mood that night. He let Ottilie saddle him without complaint and even rested his velvety nose against her shoulder as she tied two vials of glow sticks to his saddle. His mood altered slightly when he leapt out into the damp night air, though. The weather hadn’t entirely cleared – wafts of misty rain drifted from the sky, and Maestro wasn’t happy about it.
‘You should go in front tonight,’ said Leo.
‘What? Why?’ He had never let her lead before.
‘Because he’s more likely to listen to you if you’re up front, and I want you to have another go at guiding him.’
Ottilie climbed up into the front saddle. Leo buckled her legs in and pulled himself up behind her.
‘You should really have a go without the straps,’ said Leo. ‘Not tonight; I want you to focus on guiding tonight. But I might book one of the yards for a training session in between hunts and you can have a go low to the ground. Don’t want to waste hunting time on it. Come on, up, then hold him back until they raise the flag.’
Maestro had never taken flight at Ottilie’s command and she didn’t see why it was going to be any different this time. Squeezing her legs, she nudged him to take off. She was pre-emptively preparing for a second attempt when Maestro took her by surprise, leaping up into the grey veiled sky.
Leo didn’t congratulate her. ‘Hold him back,’ he barked.
Ottilie released her leg grip, tilted her feet down and pressed in slightly with her toes. Maestro hovered in the sky, black-tipped wings beating up and down, his silvery body rising and falling in place.
A wrangler at the well-lit wall raised a blue flag to signal he had noted their departure. Ottilie squeezed her legs and leaned forwards and Maestro took off at top speed.
It was a miracle. He was listening to her. They soared over the boundary walls and out into the night. Maestro adhered to at least half of her commands and Ottilie and Leo racked up so many points she wondered if she might have jumped up even higher in the rankings.
She took a flare on her own, and four jivvies, which were worth two points at night due to their dark colouring. Leo even let her fell an oxie. Considering there were two of them, there really was no excuse not to let her have one.
Ottilie had spotted them. The red-hot cracks in their antlers shone like rivers of lava in the dark. The oxies were the size of large bulls and fairly slow. They were worth fifteen points for their size, despite being easy targets for flyers – even more so at night. It took a simple dive from Maestro and three quick arrows to dispatch them – one arrow for Leo and two for Ottilie, because she missed the heart the first time.
They weren’t supposed to divert from their assigned path, but when Leo heard a strange rumbling from well beyond their patrol route, it seemed he couldn’t resist.
‘Take him down,’ said Leo.
Ottilie flew Maestro down into a basin of krippygrass. The moment they landed, Leo jumped off and started unbuckling Ottilie’s leg straps.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Barrogaul. Hundred points. No. I think night doubles apply. Two hundred points. We’re swapping spots.’
Ottilie remembered the name barrogaul, but she couldn’t be sure why. Anything worth two hundred points could not be good.
Legs free, she hopped into the back saddle. Leo strapped her in and leapt up into the front. Maestro took off in an instant. Ottilie clung to the saddle with one hand and her bow with the other, readying herself for chaos.
It was worse than she could have ever imagined. The barrogaul stood in a clearing high on a hill. It was twice the size of a full-grown bear. Its shiny black fur slid over a hump on its back. Its mouth was so wide it stretched up and back towards its rounded ears, and two huge, sabre-like fangs curled from its jaws. It stood on four thick, muscular legs, claws curling into the mud as it braced and roared at the moon.
Ottilie watched in horror as, with its wide, bloody eyes latched onto their position, the barrogaul unfurled two enormous scaly wings and rose, beat by beat, into the sky.
For a moment they hovered there, the wingerslink and the barrogaul. Neither moved.
‘Just hold on,’ sai
d Leo. ‘Don’t do anything.’
The barrogaul rumbled like thunder and Maestro roared in response. Ottilie shivered. She could feel their cries deep in her bones. The barrogaul plunged forwards. Maestro rolled, dodging the barrogaul’s fangs. Leo fired three arrows. The barrogaul dipped and swung, but one arrow caught it in the leg. It didn’t seem to feel a thing. It advanced again, Maestro dodged, and Leo caught it with two more arrows. On his third advance Maestro lashed out with his claws, striking the barrogaul across the face. The wounds healed immediately, but the barrogaul rumbled with rage and dived at Maestro. They latched onto one another and spiralled through the air.
Leo, somehow able to move in the fray, plunged his dagger into the barrogaul’s front leg and the monster released Maestro, falling a few feet before righting itself. Leo drew an arrow, ready to strike in its moment of weakness, but he was distracted at the last second by a flock of jivvies. He swore, taking two down.
‘Ott, deal with them!’
Ottilie, dizzy and anxious, fired at the jivvies. She didn’t hit a single one.
They were coming for Leo. His uniform was torn at the thigh. The barrogaul had caught him during the tussle and the jivvies could smell his blood. They swarmed around him. He took three more. Ottilie missed again.
‘Ott!’
The barrogaul advanced. Leo shot it in the face, but the arrow bounced off its thick skull. He was aiming for its eyes. Of course, she remembered now. Leo and Igor Thrike had answered that question in a training session before the trials. The only way to kill a barrogaul was through the eye. No wonder it was worth a hundred points.
A searing pain tore across Ottilie’s arm. One of the jivvies had ripped into the flesh above her elbow. Leo swung around and shot it in the wing, knocking it out of the sky.
‘Ott, deal with them or I’ll shoot you next!’ he bellowed, taking aim at the barrogaul’s shining red eye.
There was a moment of calm. It was as if she, Leo and the four remaining jivvies knew what was about to happen.
Leo released the arrow, but at that exact moment a jivvie shot towards Ottilie. Without thinking, she dodged, throwing her body to the side and knocking Leo off-centre. His arrow flew far to the left, and from somewhere above another arrow plunged, striking the barrogaul square in the eye.
The massive dredretch plummeted into the dark. Leo swore loudly. There was laughter from above as Leo and Ottilie shot down the last four jivvies still swarming around their bloody wounds.
‘Better luck next time, Darby!’
The speaker was riding a russet wingerslink. Ottilie couldn’t quite make him out in the dark, but she had a horrible feeling that she recognised the voice. Leo was shaking with rage. That was clue enough; it was Igor Thrike.
‘Where’s your fledge, Thrike?’ spat Leo.
‘Tucked up in bed where he belongs.’ Ottilie could hear the smirk in his voice. The guardians weren’t meant to go on hunts or patrols without their fledges, unless the fledge was in a scheduled training session with a wrangler. ‘You must be mad – trying to get a barro with your fledge on board.’
‘I take my job seriously.’ Leo almost growled his words.
‘So do I, Darby. That’s a barrogaul I just downed. Nice work with the jivvies though. What’s that, eight points? Oh no, wait, night doubles, so – sixteen? Very nice.’
‘That barro was injured. You wouldn’t have got the eye if I hadn’t slowed it first!’
‘Yes. Thanks for that. I’ll mention it in my victory speech. Looks like you both got a bit chewed up. You should probably go and get patched up before you attract every jivvie in the Narroway.’
Leo made a sound somewhere between a retch and a growl. Ottilie’s heart was heavy in her chest. It was all her fault. Maestro circled and they soared towards home. When they landed, Leo didn’t speak. Ottilie didn’t know what to say. She felt wretched. They left Maestro in the field to cool off, climbed the cliff stairway in silence, and marched for the rankings.
Leo didn’t so much as look at Ottilie, but she could feel his fury and she knew where he was laying the blame. They stood side by side and gazed up at the third-tier wall.
Leo was in second place.
Ottilie had heard about Leo’s scores. No-one came near them, not after a month or so at the beginning of each year, not once the game was properly underway.
‘Once a year,’ muttered Leo.
‘What?’ she mumbled.
‘Barrogauls. They’re rare. We get one once a year. If that.’
‘Leo, I’m really sor–’
‘Go to the infirmary.’
‘I’m –’
‘Infirmary, Ott!’
With a lump in her throat Ottilie turned and hurried away, leaving Leo standing alone in the courtyard.
The infirmary was at the base of the west tower. Ottilie hated going there. Whenever she needed patching up, there was always a chance that she might be required to remove her clothes. She had avoided it so far, but with every trip she was reminded that this fear of discovery would never leave her. She would never be free.
The fastest route was around the outside of the building. If only she had chosen the longer way, through the corridors, everything would have been fine – but she hadn’t. Ottilie slipped across the gardens at the west wall and walked headlong into a group of men.
‘Ott, what are you doing out here?’ said Wrangler Morse.
‘Infirmary,’ she muttered, showing him her torn arm.
He frowned with concern. ‘What got you?’
Ottilie barely heard him. She was looking at the other men. There were four of them and they all looked horribly familiar. They walked freely, but each was blindfolded with an orange scarf. Even with their faces half-covered, Ottilie knew who they were. It was the four pickers from her journey. What were they doing in the Narroway?
‘Ott? Nothing too poisonous?’ said Wrangler Morse.
‘Oh no, just a jivvie. I just need a bandage.’
Ottilie passed, but a few steps on something made her look back. She turned her head and caught the swamp picker doing the same. His blindfold had slipped just enough to free half of his left eye. He looked right at her. Ottilie froze. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t blink.
He knew her.
Even in the dark with her short hair, Mr Sloch knew her. She could see it in his body, his forehead, in the narrowing of his eye. Mr Sloch knew she was Ottilie Colter. He knew she was a girl, and he knew she was not supposed to be there.
25
Leo’s Choice
Ottilie paced the length of her room so many times it was a surprise she didn’t wear holes in her boots. She had not bathed. She had not changed. She had not had her arm tended to. Innumerable uneventful hours drifted by. Her clothes were heavy with dried sweat and her skin itched beneath them. Crusted blood fixed her shirt to her arm. Whether the wound still hurt, she couldn’t quite be sure. There wasn’t room in her brain to think about trivial things like jivvie gashes. Finally she ceased her pacing and sat by the window, staring out at the sky, waiting for something, anything, to happen.
The footsteps were nearly soundless in the hall, but she still sensed someone’s approach. Her door was not locked. What was the point? Someone lifted the latch and a thin figure slithered inside – Mr Sloch, the swamp picker.
He looked her up and down, noting the bow and quiver tossed on the bed and the dagger strapped to her waist. He did not approach.
‘What exactly do you think you’re doing here, little Ottilie Colter of the Swamp Hollows?’ His raspy voice was sharp with unspoken threats.
‘How did you recognise me?’ said Ottilie.
Mr Sloch laughed quietly. ‘I watched you and your brother for months, you little runt. Knew you the moment I saw you – didn’t even need two eyes.’
Her stomach lurched. ‘Why were you watching us?’
‘Wasn’t watching you, was I? Was watching him. He was on the list.’
The list. The list the keepe
r had made – signing Gully’s life over to the Narroway Hunt.
‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed.
He scratched his ragged goatee. ‘I asked you first.’
‘I came to take my brother home.’
‘Did you now? How did that work out for you?’
‘Why are you here?’
His small, bloodshot eyes narrowed. ‘Here for a disciplinary meeting. Took them a while to track us down.’ He smirked. ‘Then they dragged us all the way out here to make us sick and scare us with noises in the dark – blindfolded us so we can’t see what’s going on here, but of course we know. I’ve known for years. I always thought they were selling the boys as slaves – I suppose they are, in a way. They locked us up in a room below. Ha! Like I can’t get out of a locked room. It’s my job to get in and out of locked rooms!’
‘Why do you need a disciplinary meeting?’
‘That would be on account of a late delivery and a misplaced list.’
Ottilie felt a flicker of pride. She had played them. She and Bill had outsmarted those slimy pickers and now they’d been hauled in for punishment. They deserved it. ‘What do you want from me?’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Why are you in here?’
‘Because, Ottilie Colter, you wretched little lass, if they find out that a girl from the Brakkerswamp followed me, found her way in here and took to masquerading as a boy, they’ll cut off my legs and make me eat them.’
He moved towards her. Ottilie’s hand came to rest on the hilt of her dagger.
‘They been training you up, have they?’ He snorted. ‘They wouldn’t have if they’d known. What do you think they’ll do to you if they find out?’ He looked directly in her eyes. ‘Bad things, to be sure.’
He lunged forwards and grabbed her shirt, gripping so tight it bent her neck back. She struggled, but didn’t draw the dagger. This was a man, not a monster. She wouldn’t cut him. Not unless she had to.
‘What do you want?’ she spat.
Ottilie Colter and the Narroway Hunt Page 17
