The prentices all signalled their understanding, falling in one by one behind their instructor. Tempest proved resistant, swinging left and right and forcing Joss to take a firm hold of the reins before finally relenting to settle into position at the end of the line.
From there it was a smooth and serene flight, with Joss marvelling at the Backbone Ranges as they rushed along beneath his feet. He had never felt this free and weightless before, had never breathed air so cool and sweet, had never seen light so pure and warm. No wonder Hero had been so frustrated at being grounded for so long. How could anyone experience this feeling and then face living without it?
With rain clouds gathering on the horizon, Sur Blaek signalled for the formation to circle back around and head for home. Tempest yielded more easily this time and, with a mix of relief and elation, Joss joined the others as they soared on an upward draught. The clouds were so close now that he could practically reach out and touch them. And, seizing the moment, that was exactly what he aimed to do.
Joss dug his heels into Tempest’s stirrups, raised himself up out of his saddle, strained his arm and, with quivering fingertips, grazed the heavens. He traced a line in the cottony veil, collecting pure white cloud in the palm of his hand, the sun staring down at him. He closed his eyes and soaked in the golden rays.
From out of blue skies. From the ruins of a lost life, the words went, responded to with words of wisdom that rang all the more true now. Nothing is impossible.
Joss couldn’t remember having ever felt so joyful. Not when he’d won the Gauntlet. Not when he’d been told he’d be going on the Way. Not even when he’d been told he’d been accepted as a prentice to Round Shield Ranch.
He was flying. And from up here, at this grand height, he was untouchable.
But then a bug caught Tempest in the eye, and Tempest shrieked. Tempest bucked. Tempest dove and tumbled.
Joss was halfway out of his saddle before he’d even registered what was happening. Trying to regain control, Joss grabbed for the reins. But they slipped from his hands as Tempest performed a barrel roll, determined to shake Joss loose. The rush of freefall hit Joss like a tidal wave. Panic drowned him. He looked at his harness, at the cord that linked him with his mount. It pulled tight as he fell fifty feet in a flash, jerking him to a sudden stop.
And then it snapped loose, and Joss was sent plummeting, with only the earth below and death beyond to break his fall.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A GATHERING OF THUNDERCLOUDS
THE ground rushed at Joss with frightening speed. It flashed before him as he tumbled over and over and over, closer every time, with one thought piercing the terror screaming through his head.
I’mgoingtodieI’mgoingtodieI’mgoingtodie!
He didn’t register the shadow blotting out the sun as he fell. Not until he felt something snap around his wrist, and then suddenly he was being thrown up and onto the back of another pterosaur, this one twice the size of Tempest.
‘Hold tight!’ Sur Blaek growled, and Joss grabbed hold of him as the paladero yanked on his reins, guiding his mount to pull up out of his headlong nosedive. They were within mere feet of the ground now, which was still speeding towards them with merciless resolve. But with a simple splaying of his wings, Fulger slowed his descent to a controlled drop and came to a gentle landing on a thick carpet of lavender.
Sur Blaek pulled his goggles from his face, slipped from his saddle, and drew the song sword on his back. With eyes pointed at the sky, he wove a summoning song the likes of which Joss had never heard. It was so fluid, so graceful, that even Joss felt compelled to drop from Fulger’s back and walk to where Sur Blaek was carving the air with his blade and turning it into music.
The sound announced the arrival of Drake and Hero, both still comfortably mounted on their pterosaurs, as well as the return of a third thunder lizard. Tempest looked unashamed of his wild behaviour as he landed before Sur Blaek, squinted at him with a pair of bloodshot, watery eyes, then went skittering about the moment the summoning song finished. Joss shot the animal a scornful look, though that was nothing compared to the fiery glare Sur Blaek had for him.
‘That has to be some of the most reckless riding it’s ever been my misfortune to witness!’ the paladero barked, slamming his song sword back into its scabbard. ‘And from a fifth-year prentice who fancies himself a Blade Keeper, no less! What were you thinking, boy?’
‘Thinking?’ said Joss, too shaken to articulate anything more than that. He’d never seen Sur Blaek so angry, had never thought him capable of such fury. It was as dizzying to experience as the fall had been, leaving him so raw that he confused the first spits of rain hitting his cheek for his own tears. Fearing the action may be misconstrued, he kept himself from wiping them away.
‘You broke formation to go lollygagging, then let your mount get so spooked that he threw you from your saddle. And to top it all off, you failed to secure your safety line properly!’
‘I – uh –’ Joss was burning with shame, only able to steal the smallest of glimpses at his brethren. ‘I’m sorry, Sur Blaek. I didn’t think –’
‘That’s right! You didn’t think!’ Sur Blaek snapped. ‘And until you learn to do so, you can kiss the sky goodbye. You’re walking back, Sarif. Count yourself lucky that I’m feeling generous.’
‘Generous, sur?’ Hero said from atop her saddle. ‘We’re several leagues from the fortress; it’ll be nightfall before Joss makes it home.’
Sur Blaek stared at her as if she’d just spoken treason. ‘You’re questioning my judgement, Ravenhelm?’ he asked.
‘It just seems –’ she started, and was quickly cut off.
‘You think I’m being unreasonable? Perhaps you’d like to join Sarif in his hike.’
Hero clamped her mouth shut. Joss was certain she would stop there, let the matter lie, choose to ride home with the others and leave him to his long walk. Instead, she dropped from her saddle, meeting Sur Blaek’s fury head on. ‘It would be my honour, sur.’
Sur Blaek turned to the last mounted prentice. ‘What about you, Drake? Are you just as eager to join your brethren in their madness?’
Drake looked at Joss, then Hero. And then he climbed down from his saddle. ‘We took an oath, Sur Blaek,’ he said as a matter of simple fact. ‘Bound by a blade, bound for life.’
Joss opened his mouth to stop them, to plead with Sur Blaek that his brethren be spared a punishment meant only for him. But the paladero was too quick, fuelled by his anger as he swiftly hopped onto his pterosaur’s back without so much as a second glance at any of them.
‘So be it,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you all back at the fortress.’
Spurring his mount, he took to the air with the other pterosaurs trailing behind obediently. Even Tempest fell into line at the rear of the formation, as if Joss’s guidance had been inconsequential the entire time.
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ he said to the others as he watched the pterosaurs disappear into the distance, while the falling rain grew heavier. ‘It was my fault. My price to pay.’
‘You can save the self-flagellation for when we’re somewhere dry,’ Hero said, trudging past him in the direction of Skyend and Blade’s Edge Acres beyond it. ‘Come on. This weather’s only going to get worse before it gets better. And we’ve got a long walk ahead.’
The rain hammered the prentices relentlessly, soaking them all the way down to the gizzards. The dirt road thickened to a muddy sludge that sucked at the soles of their boots. But still they pressed on, growing closer to Skyend with every hard-earned step.
Despite his overwhelming sense of shame, Joss couldn’t help but feel a tug of interest as he caught sight of the public library on the edge of town. Even in the rain it was a polished jewel of a building, with brightly coloured leadlight windows and a long flight of steps leading up to its soaring entranceway.
All Joss wanted to do was rush inside and start digging through its collection. He could excuse the visit as
a simple need to escape the rain, given that he had yet to share any of his research with Drake or Hero. He feared they might dismiss him as being paranoid or delusional; he’d made an excuse about having forgotten to file Azof ’s fangs to cover for his sudden departure from Rowan’s cottage the other week. Neither of them seemed to have believed him, but they hadn’t pressed the matter.
The truth was that he had precious little to show for his efforts. Perhaps the Skyend library would help him solve the lingering mystery of Thrall and his Shadow God, and the arcane runes that could yet link them to the ritualistic killings that Rowan had described. But just as his hopes were being raised, Joss saw the ‘Closed’ sign on the library’s doors. With a heavy heart, he continued walking with his brethren.
The rain remained relentless as the prentices skirted the edge of Skyend and approached the town’s High Chamber. Tall, windowless and made of gleaming bronze and smooth white marble, it was one of the few public buildings that was open, offering a tantalising promise of shelter.
‘We should stop and take the chance to dry off,’ Drake said. Though he agreed, Joss said nothing. He was still too consumed by guilt over what had happened. Better that he fold up inside his own silence and go unheard and overlooked.
‘I’d rather not,’ said Hero. ‘Not here.’
Realisation struck Drake and Joss simultaneously.
‘This is your uncle’s High Chamber,’ Joss said, unwittingly breaking his silence.
Drake was quick to add, ‘We can go somewhere else. Maybe we could find a tavern …’
But Hero sighed. ‘No. We’re here now. Nothing to do but face it,’ she said, and led the way inside.
Muted hymns floated through the air, quiet as lullabies. Orb-shaped lamps hung from golden chains to cast revolving patterns of light across the twilight blue of the domed ceiling, with the largest lamp hovering like a full moon in the centre of the room. The crystal statue of the Sleeping King was gargantuan compared to the one in Blade’s Edge Acres, and carved to be so lifelike it looked as if it could draw breath.
The High Attendant was positioned in his customary spot, beside the Sleeping King’s feet at the top of three small, carpeted steps. While everyone else knelt with a view of His Majesty, the High Attendant knelt looking out at his congregation. He was dressed in robes that were the same shade of blue as the ceiling, cinched at the waist with a gold tassel that had a pouch of sand tied to it, his feet bare and his face smooth-shaven. He had a hungry look to him, thin and mean, with dark brows that gathered like thunderclouds over his eyes. But the clouds parted as he regarded the new faces that had come in from the rain and saw Hero’s among them.
He gestured to the door at the far end of the chamber. Hero nodded, then looked at Joss and Drake in an invitation to follow her. Their trek across the chamber floor prompted others in the congregation to stand and approach the High Attendant, assuming that now was the time for the blessing. With no choice but to oblige them, the Attendant dipped a hand into the pouch at his side, withdrew it, and traced a line of sand across each person’s cheeks, just below their eyes.
While the High Attendant found himself suddenly busy, the prentices slipped through the door he’d pointed to. On the other side was a private study furnished with titanoboaskin armchairs, a circular table painted as white as the moon, a fireplace lit with the eternal flame of the faithful, and a gold-framed painting of the Sleeping King in repose. His Majesty was silhouetted in his star-jewelled bedchamber, dreaming of universes and all their countless inhabitants, with the Dream of Ai the brightest and most vivid of all.
Or at least that’s how Joss had heard it told. After all, he had never been this deep within a High Chamber before. As a child, he had always hung at the back whenever he’d been made to attend a service, until finally the custodians at the Orphan House had given up bothering him about it. Later, when he had become a prentice at Round Shield Ranch, Sur Verity’s practice of the faith of her fae heritage meant that they had both been left on the outer when it came to Kingsday morning services.
‘Well … isn’t this cosy?’ Drake said, taking in the surrounds while Joss and Hero dashed across to the fireplace. Clearly searching to fill the silence, Drake pressed in between them to add, ‘There were times, in the dead of a Northern Tundra winter, where I would act up during service just so I could sit beside the High Attendant’s fireplace for an hour or two. I had to spend the entire time giving silent praise to His Majesty. But it was worth it.’
The others didn’t give much more than a grunt in reply, too busy soaking in the heat. They were still gathered beside the fire when the High Attendant stalked into the room.
‘Henrietta. I wasn’t expecting you,’ he said in a quiet and controlled voice.
‘Hello, Uncle,’ Hero replied, turning from the fireplace. ‘These are my Bladebound brethren, Ganymede Drake and Josiah Sarif. Ganymede, Joss; this is my Uncle Silas.’
The High Attendant looked them over like a market buyer inspecting a head of stock and finding it wanting. ‘Better that they call me High Attendant Ravenhelm, I think,’ he said, scrutinising Joss as if a carnivore had slipped in with the leaf-eaters.
‘Pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ Joss said, though the High Attendant barely seemed to notice.
‘You’re back at Blade’s Edge Acres, I take it?’ he said, addressing Hero.
‘You knew that I’d left?’ she asked.
‘Before his recent passing, Lord Haven would take his blessing here most Kingsday mornings,’ he said as he crossed the room towards his niece. ‘He would often tell me of how you were progressing. Including how you’d completed the Way and that you were now training as a paladero. Is that so?’
‘That’s right,’ she said, bracing herself for whatever admonishment was to come.
But her uncle only beamed. ‘What fantastic news!’ he said.
‘Really?’ Hero crinkled her nose. ‘You think so?’
‘Of course! Why would I not?’
‘Because,’ Hero said, pausing a moment as if the answer should be obvious. ‘You always said I’d be better off taking the robe and pouch. That it was foolish to dream of thunder lizards.’
‘I did say that, didn’t I?’ The High Attendant circled away again and sat behind the table. ‘I’ve had some time to reflect on my actions since you left for Blade’s Edge Acres, Henrietta. And I must admit … I could have handled it all better. In my defence, I was new to the position of High Attendant when you first came here, eager to prove myself not just in the role but also in my devotion to His Majesty. I fear you may have borne the brunt of that zeal, tangled up as it was in my apprehension at suddenly finding myself the guardian of a young girl. The disrepute that the Ravenhelm name had fallen into thanks to your father’s actions only exacerbated matters. For that, I am truly sorry.’
Hero couldn’t look more shocked than if her uncle had confessed that he was the last descendant of the weredragon race, able to take monstrous form at will.
‘Though as blessed as it may be to have you here again, I’m afraid I have some matters to which I must attend,’ he went on. ‘You and your friends are welcome to stay for as long as you need. We can even make up some beds in the residence should you require the rest.’
‘They’ll be expecting us back at the fortress,’ Hero said, clearly stunned by her uncle’s unexpected generosity. ‘Thank you, though.’
‘Nonsense. We’re kin, after all. Though promise me one thing, will you?’ her uncle said, walking back around the table to take both her shoulders in his hands.
‘What would that be?’ she asked, considering him with guarded curiosity.
His face creased in a smile that exposed the pointed teeth at the edges of his mouth. ‘Come back and visit. Soon.’
Hero shrugged beneath his grip. ‘I’ll try.’
He stared at her as if there was something profound he wanted to say, a secret smouldering behind his eyes. It was a look that made Joss unsure if he should lean
forward to hear better or jump back out of the way.
‘Please do,’ was all her uncle said as he released her and made a slow exit from the room, stopping just long enough to add, ‘after all – how else will I know all that you’re up to with Lord Haven dead and gone?’
He didn’t linger to see her face fall. The door was already shut behind him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A BLOOD RED SHADE
JOSS and his brethren were almost dry by the time the rain had stopped. Leaving the High Chamber, they looked for Hero’s uncle so they could say their farewells, though he was nowhere to be found. Hero seemed relieved, which was no surprise to Joss or Drake. The heartless way in which he’d spoken of Lord Haven’s passing had told them all they needed to know about the High Attendant.
The last of the day’s light was dying on the horizon, with the stone-grey sky reflecting the prentices’ shared mood as they considered the long trek ahead. It would be near on midnight before they arrived at Blade’s Edge Acres. Joss felt another wave of shame shoot through him, acid hot and hard to swallow.
‘Come on,’ Drake said. ‘Nothing to do but do it.’
And with that they forged ahead. They were less than half a league down the road when a wagon approached them from behind. Drawn by an ankylosaur, it rumbled to a stop beside them.
‘Well if this isn’t the king of coincidences!’ said the driver, and Joss looked up to see Zeke sitting at the front of the wagon, reins in hand. While Joss cringed to himself, Zeke’s smile was as winning as ever – even with the frosty reception it found.
‘Zadkille,’ Hero scowled. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Tasked with a late supply run,’ he replied, throwing a thumb at the cart loaded high with crates and barrels. ‘I could ask the same of you three. Weren’t you saddling up for your first flight just this morning?’
The Edge of the World Page 11
