Sparrow Rising

by Jessica Khoury

  “What do you mean?” Maybe it was her kindness to him, or maybe it was the effect of the poultice she’d applied to his wound, but Nox was feeling uncharacteristically generous. “You could still enter as a wild card.”

  She looked up sharply. “What?”

  “They always hold open twenty spots in the Race for last-minute contestants. You didn’t know that? The first twenty to sign up make it in, regardless of how they did in the Trials, or if they even competed at all. I think they started it years ago, when some important duke’s son didn’t win his Trial. If he didn’t get into the Race, there’d have been a coup or something stupid—hey, ouch!”

  “Sorry!” The girl had gripped his arm so tightly it tugged on his wound. She let go, her eyes almost feverish. “Are you serious? I could still get in?”

  “If you could get to Thelantis in time, sure. The Race is in … three weeks, I guess.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  He shrugged. “I grew up in Thelantis. I’ve seen a bunch of Races.”

  “You’re from Thelantis? Then what are you doing all the way out here?”

  “Believe me, I have been asking myself that for days.” He grimaced, flicking a curious beetle off his trousers.

  “That didn’t answer my question.”

  Nox deflected with a question of his own. “Didn’t you say you’d be missed if you didn’t get back?”

  “Right.” She smacked her forehead. “I’ll return soon. Meet you behind the barn?”

  “Sure,” he lied. “I’ll be there.”

  She flew off, and he watched her until she vanished beyond the sunflowers.

  Then he turned and began limping in the opposite direction of the barn, south to Bluebriar Forest.

  Ellie found the town bustling when she arrived. The air was filled with kids swooping and looping on their agile wings, while the adults set out a banquet. The race was over, and the celebratory picnic had begun. The smell of blackberry pie, cherry tarts, and bacon sandwiches made her mouth water. Any other day, she’d be stuffing her face by now.

  But she thought of the Crow boy she’d left in the field, and knew she had to hurry back to him. Since Mother Rosemarie kept the larder at the Home for Lost Sparrows locked tight, the only way Ellie could get food for the boy was by grabbing some from the feast. She didn’t totally believe his story about a secret mission, but Ellie was no snitch. Besides, she owed him this much. He’d shown her she still had a chance—however slim—of entering the Race of Ascension and becoming a Goldwing knight after all.

  But it would take an even bigger risk than entering the Trials had been—and more courage, more determination, and probably a bit more stupidity than Ellie was sure she could muster up.

  She slunk into the town on foot, careful to avoid Mother Rosemarie or the other Lost Sparrows, who were all complete snitches. Any one of them would turn her in and receive an extra helping of dessert from the matron for their treachery.

  Letting her choppy hair hide her face, Ellie shuffled through the crowd. She realized she didn’t even know who’d won the Trials. She chanced a look up, spotted Zain in a cluster of his Hawk clan brethren. Judging by the grin on his face and the bottle of fizzy cordial he was raising, he was one of the winners.

  “Ellie!” he said, his smile fading slightly. “You made it back. What happened?”

  “She spun out at the third arch,” Ordo cut in. His hand fell on Ellie’s shoulder as if in consolation. She shoved it away, then looked at him more closely. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying.

  “You didn’t make it,” she muttered, feeling a twinge of savage satisfaction. “One of the Ospreys must have overtaken you.”

  “They both did,” said an older Hawk. He cuffed Ordo on the back of his skull. “Lazy clod. I told you to practice more!”

  “Shut up,” Ordo snarled.

  “Ellie,” said Zain. “You flew well. I mean, for a minute there, I even thought you might …”

  “Did you?” She hated how choked her own voice sounded. “I’m happy for you, Zain.”

  “Thanks!” He put an arm around her in a bone-crunching hug. “I hope I do you proud in the final Race.”

  Ellie’s stomach twisted. “When do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow,” he said. “It’s a three-week journey to Thelantis, and we’ll get there just in time. It’ll be me, Tauna, and Laida. The mayor is escorting us, and our parents too.”

  She nodded woodenly. “You might want this, then.”

  Opening her hand, she revealed his dagger, which she’d pinched from his belt when he’d hugged her.

  “Ellie!” he whispered, glancing around quickly to see if anyone else had seen. “You have to stop doing that!”

  “You have to stop falling for it.” Pinching his knife had been a petty move, really, and didn’t make her feel any better.

  Another Hawk pulled Zain away to congratulate him with great thumping whacks on his shoulder, and Ordo leaned close to hiss in Ellie’s ear. “Listen, Sparrow, you better not tell anyone about how you bumped into me and nearly knocked me out of the race.”

  She bristled. “Fifth place, huh? Even cheating, you still lost.”

  He snarled, his breath reeking of garlic sausage. “I’m from a high clan, Ellidee. There are more things I can do besides becoming a stupid Goldwing. I can join the army or get a cushy job at some fancy castle. But you? You’ll never be anything more than a farmer. Enjoy your life of picking flowers.” His eyes dropped to her hand, which had clenched at her side in a tight, furious fist. “Oooh, what’s this now, are you going to hit me?”

  “As if you were worth it,” she said through her teeth. “A true knight doesn’t indulge in petty vengeance.”

  “You know what else a knight doesn’t do? Give up.” He folded his arms and sneered. “But guess what I saw when I flew back across that field? I saw a little lost Sparrow girl who’d gotten knocked down and stayed there. Admit it. You gave up.”

  At that moment, clarity burst in Ellie’s mind, as powerful as sunlight breaking through a storm cloud. She knew what she had to do. She’d known ever since she’d left the Crow boy in the field, but she’d been too scared to face it straight on and say it aloud, even to herself.

  “No, Ordo.” Something in her eyes must have cowed him because he took a step back. “I haven’t given up.”

  She would go to Thelantis.

  She’d fly in the Race of Ascension as a wild card, whatever it took.

  Energized by this new purpose, Ellie turned away—only to smack into Mother Rosemarie.

  The matron’s hands clamped on her shoulders, and she shook Ellie till her teeth clacked.

  “You empty-headed, reckless girl! Look at you, covered in scratches and bruises!”

  “I’d have won,” Ellie snapped back. “If Ordo hadn’t cheated—”

  “Since when do the high clans ever play fairly?” Mother Rosemarie was white with anger. “It’s just further proof of how idiotic this was. If you’d stayed on the ground with us, it never would have happened.”

  Behind her, Chief Donhal glowered. “You learned a lesson today, Ellie. Sparrows are farmers. That is what we’ve always been and will always be. It is our clan’s legacy.”

  “I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I should have told you what I meant to do. But I want to protect people the way that Goldwing knight protected me. I want my parents …” She felt tears in her eyes but wouldn’t let them fall. “I want them to know the world will become a safer place because of what happened to them. I can’t just let them have died for nothing. It has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh, Ellie,” said Mother Rosemarie in a tight voice. For the first time, Ellie felt the matron was really looking at her. “You’re truly set on this path?”

  Ellie nodded furiously. Was Mother Rosemarie finally beginning to understand? “I want to be a Goldwing. I want it more than anything in the world. Don’t we have as much right to learn how to fight the gargols as
the high clans do?”

  Mother Rosemarie exchanged a look with Donhal. As chief, he was the one who dispensed justice. But Ellie hadn’t broken any laws. That was the point. Sure, she’d entered the race without permission, but that was just sneaky, not criminal.

  “Very well, then,” said Mother Rosemarie. “You leave me no choice.”

  “No … no choice but what?”

  “You’ll have to go south.”

  Go south.

  The words struck Ellie like a twanging arrow.

  “It’s for your own good,” Chief Donhal added gruffly. “You’ll return to us in a few years, once those rough edges of yours have been filed smooth.”

  Go south could only mean one thing: Ellie would be sent to Moorly House, the place they sent the most troublesome kids in the Clandoms. It was a place she’d heard many rumors about: that they bound the wings of the children held there, that they only saw the sky through barred windows, that it was little more than a prison. And nobody got out until they had grown up and had the souls crushed out of them.

  Ellie struggled against Mother Rosemarie’s iron grip. She cried out for Mayor Davina, for Chief Donhal. No one helped her. A few of the Sparrows nodded approvingly and whispered the words “going south” and “Moorly House” and “for her own good.”

  Finally, her eyes met Zain’s. His face was white, his eyes wide. He started to take a step toward her, lifting his hand as if he might help. But then one of his uncles gave him a stern look and shook his head. Zain dropped his gaze, unable to even look at Ellie.

  She was completely alone.

  After exchanging a firm nod with the Sparrow chieftain, sealing the decision, Mother Rosemarie towed Ellie out of Linden and down the half-mile road to the Home for Lost Sparrows.

  “I’ll write to Moorly tonight,” she said, dragging Ellie into the room where she and the other girls slept. “They’ll send someone for you within the month. Until then, you’re not to leave this room. You’ll use this time to contemplate your true place in this world.”

  After depositing Ellie on her bed, Mother Rosemarie sighed. “I tried with you, Ellie, I truly did. How many times did I tell you not to go chasing moonmoths, fixing your mind on these wild ideas? If something isn’t done to tame you, you’ll end up just like your poor parents. Next time, it won’t be some Hawk clan bully who grabs you, but a gargol.” She paused, and Ellie thought she detected a glimmer of regret in the matron’s eyes. “Ours is a world in which no one truly flies free. You should know that better than anyone.”

  The door shut behind her, and the outer lock slid into place.

  Ellie sat still, her hands in fists. She stared at the door and waited until she heard Mother Rosemarie leave the house. She’d stay in town till evening, with everyone else.

  Giving Ellie the time she needed.

  She jumped up and ran to the window, prying out the pane of glass that she’d learned to remove years ago, when she’d started sneaking out to meet Zain. All it took was a jimmy with the nail she kept hidden atop the casement, and the pane tilted right into her waiting hands.

  Then she turned to grab the already-packed knapsack she’d hidden in her pillowcase. She’d been sleeping on it for months in case she won the Trials but Mother Rosemarie forbade her to advance to the Race of Ascension. Well, things hadn’t gone quite according to plan, but as it turned out, she still needed to make a quick getaway.

  Inside the knapsack were a clay jar filled with nuts, dried apple strips, dry oats, and rounds of hard, flat seedbread. She also had a small pot, flint and steel, a bottle of Sparrow Farms’s best wing oil, and a roll of sturdy twine that she was sure would come in handy.

  Ellie opened the knapsack to double-check its contents and to add the last three things she’d need: her most treasured possessions. First was her faded copy of The King’s Ladder, a collection of stories and virtues any would-be knight had to learn before they took the gold-and-white uniform of the Goldwings. Part history book, part training manual, it was ragged with use. It was precious not only for the tales it told but for the warning in the front, written in her mother’s flowing hand: Watch the skies.

  Every time Ellie looked at those words, her eyes began to sting.

  The Sparrows had thought her mother was silly for giving Ellie a high clan book about knights instead of the usual Sparrow folk stories and histories, but she believed that some part of her mother had known what Ellie’s path would be. That she was meant for something beyond the sunflower fields.

  She shut the book and put it in the knapsack.

  Next was her dagger in its leather sheath, which had been Zain’s until he’d gotten a newer, sharper one. She picked it up, the hilt comfortable and familiar in her palm. It filled her with sadness, reminding her of the new rift that had opened between her and Zain. But still, she was a practical girl, and the knife would be useful. It slipped into the dark orange sash she tied around her waist to replace the one she’d bandaged the Crow boy with.

  Then there was the most precious thing of all—her Goldwing patch. It was the size of her hand, cut from yellow leather and embroidered on the edges with gold thread. It had belonged to the knight who had saved Ellie’s life, and she’d given it to Ellie later that night, as she’d been weeping for her parents. Now Ellie pressed it to her heart.

  Can I become a Goldwing? she’d asked the knight. I want to help people like you do.

  The woman had smiled sadly, pressed the patch into Ellie’s hand, and said, “If you work hard, follow the king’s rules, and never give up, you can be anything.”

  Those words may as well have been carved into Ellie’s very bones. They were a promise worth every risk.

  She added the patch to her knapsack, then rolled her coverlet and bound it with the same leather cording she used to tie her hair into pigtails. The knapsack went on her back, the rolled coverlet atop it. Then she climbed through the open window, looking up out of habit at the casement above. On the pale wood was a faint dark smudge, soot almost entirely washed away by last night’s rain.

  Ellie hesitated, then ducked back inside and went to the hearth at the far end of the room. She ran two fingers along the inside of the chimney, pulling them away covered in black soot. Leaning out of the window again, she traced the mark with a practiced hand: a fresh black outline shaped like an open flame.

  There was an ashmark drawn over each window and door on the house, as there was on every building in Linden, including the barns, sheds, and shops. And though Ellie had never been outside her town, she knew no matter how far she roamed, she would find the same mark. The ashmark was protection, a ward against gargols, and marking this particular window had been Ellie’s responsibility for years. She supposed one of the other Sparrows would have to look after it now.

  Her final chore accomplished, Ellie crouched on the windowsill and spread her wings. The whole world stretched before her: yellow sunflower fields, the dark green forest beyond them, and the great blue sky above.

  “Sorry, Mother Rosemarie,” she muttered. “But a true knight never gives up.”

  Ellie searched high and low around the barn but found no sign of the Crow boy. The place was silent except for the buzz of crickets and the low rustle of the wind in the sunflowers. Barrels of seeds waited to be shelled, and the presses that crushed the seeds and extracted their oils sat silent. Everyone was still in town for the picnic.

  Finally, Ellie flew back to the spot where she’d first found the boy, wondering if she’d imagined the whole thing. But there was still dried blood on the ground and an indentation in the dirt where he’d lain.

  “Aha,” she muttered, catching sight of bent sunflower stalks where someone had pushed through them—heading south. Away from the barn. “Either you’re really bad at directions, Crow boy, or you’re running away on purpose. Well, we’ll see about that.”

  Ellie followed his tracks from the air. For a girl who’d spent her whole life in these fields, it was easy enough to see the trail he�
�d left—stalks bent the wrong way, blossoms that had the dew shaken off them. And anyway, he was heading more or less in a straight line. Which told her he wasn’t lost at all; he’d never intended to meet her at the barn.

  She’d thought he couldn’t get far with his injury. But when his trail led her straight into Bluebriar Forest, she felt a moment of panic. If she couldn’t find him, her journey would be over before it had begun. She had only a vague idea of where Thelantis was—somewhere in the east. Without the Crow boy to guide her, she’d probably wander in circles until her clan caught up with her. Besides, he kind of owed her, not just for the help she’d given him but for wrecking her chance at winning the Trial.

  “No,” she said, glaring at the trees. “I’m not giving up. And I’m not going to get locked up in Moorly House either.”

  She flitted over the fencing the people of Linden had stretched along the forest’s edge and stepped into the trees.

  This was the farthest Ellie had ever gone from her home.

  She knew there would be a road nearby, leading to the nearest town of Mossy Dell. Mother Rosemarie had gone there once to collect a recently orphaned Sparrow boy.

  Forests were dangerous places, because the trees blocked the sky and you couldn’t see clouds moving in until it was too late. Gargols weren’t put off by the thick canopy. They’d dive right down to the forest floor in search of prey.

  Ellie tried not to think about this as she fluttered over fallen logs, rocks, and ravines choked with briars. The forest sounded different than the fields she’d grown up in. Instead of wind in the grass, she heard the chirping of insects and frogs. Glossy ferns sparkled with dew, draping over banks of emerald moss. She stopped to stare at a log covered in a line of orange mushrooms, and at a perfect spiderweb strung between two trees, its fat, leggy maker crouched patiently at its center. Beams of sunlight touched the ground here and there, and motes of dust and loose green leaves drifted lazily in the glow.

  And to think, this whole other world had been just a five-minute flight away. She’d grown up seeing Bluebriar Forest on the horizon every day, but it had seemed as far as the ocean until now.