Crown of Feathers

by Nicki Pau Preto

  There was a makeshift paddock set up, where Veronyka and the other stablehands led the horses and left them to wait. A pack of hunting hounds was already inside, weaving through the horses’ legs as they ambled through the tall grass, and a cage of messenger pigeons had been placed on a barrel. Glancing around, Veronyka saw Jana hide a crate of rabbits into the cover of the nearby bushes. What was going on?

  A few moments later the commander appeared at the village gates, leading his dappled horse, Cotton, toward the apprentices. A hush fell over the group when he arrived, and in the ensuing silence, the commander explained the rather bizarre exercise that had been set up.

  If Riders needed to fly out on an overnight journey—or travel a long distance—they would often have an accompanying land party with pack animals and extra supplies. The phoenixes needed to rest, and so did the Riders, so such provisions were necessary. They also occasionally scouted from horseback, allowing them to travel to more heavily populated areas, with their phoenixes reporting from the safety of the sky. As animages, they needed to be masters of more than just their bonded animals—they needed to be masters of every beast in their service, including messenger birds and even the dogs that served them in the hunt.

  “Horse mastery,” the commander continued, “has been an integral part of Rider training for centuries. As warriors of the highest sort, Riders were trained in warfare both on land and in the sky. While most of you are competent on horseback, none of you have practiced control of all your animals simultaneously.”

  Veronyka’s ears perked up—finally she was going to see some real magic at work. Thus far, from what she’d glimpsed, the commander’s training program seemed to focus on honing their skills as warriors over their abilities as animages. The sight had left her disheartened, as she had no weapons or combat experience. If ever she was to join their ranks, she’d be at a major disadvantage. Veronyka’s single best skill was her use of magic, and she was eager to see how she would measure up.

  “The horse of a Phoenix Rider must be comfortable in the presence of not only his rider, but whatever other beasts his master requires—including, of course, his phoenix. This is not an easy task and will take weeks of training and discipline, starting now.”

  A gust of warm wind rippled through Veronyka’s hair, and a phoenix landed on the ground in front of them.

  It was the commander’s mount, Maximian. He must have been circling high above them all this time or perched on one of the jagged spears of rock just out of sight. Though Veronyka had already seen him close up, the first time had been in the crowded clearing on the mountainside. Now, in the wide open, she was free to appreciate his magnificence. This wasn’t a juvenile like Xephyra had been, still small enough for Veronyka to hold in her arms. This was a full-grown phoenix, just as majestic on foot in the morning sunlight as soaring through the night sky on wings of fire. His plumage held more variations of red than Veronyka had ever seen in her life, each feather shimmering and jewel-bright, with fiery orange and brilliant yellow tipping his crest and long tail feathers. The phoenix’s rib cage was about the size of those belonging to the horses behind them, who whinnied and neighed at the sight of the gargantuan firebird, while his wingspan was more than twice their length. His body shape was similar to an eagle’s, with thick, wide-set legs and a short, strong neck. His eyes glimmered like black gems, and his hooked beak shone like gold.

  One of the stablehands told her that after the war Cassian had gone willingly into custody, claiming his bondmate had died in the fighting, so Maximian could hide safely somewhere in the mountains. Some bonded pairs could remain in magical contact over thousands of miles, depending on the strength of their connection. When there was a permanent link, things like eye contact and physical distance, which were helpful when trying to use animal or shadow magic, were far less important. Still, it was a difficult thing to accomplish. Veronyka hadn’t known it while they lived together—Val accidentally let the truth slip later—but her maiora’s phoenix had been alive their entire time in Aura Nova. In order to protect Val and Veronyka and to keep their identities as animages—and hers as a Rider and once-servant to Avalkyra Ashfire—a secret, her grandmother stayed in the capital city, while her phoenix remained in Pyra. Her maiora’s capture had lured her phoenix back to her side, and she was killed as she tried to defend her bondmate.

  Veronyka had cried often for her maiora in the weeks that followed her death, but she’d cried for her phoenix, too. She wondered how many others might be living the same way . . . separate from their bondmates to avoid persecution or unable to reconnect because of bondage or the travel restrictions. Some people might have chosen to remain with their families over their phoenix, unable to get out of the empire or unwilling to leave livelihoods behind. It was a dark thought, at odds with the blue-sky day and the sight of the phoenix before her.

  “You will watch Maximian and me complete the course, and then you will do the same. I do not expect perfection on your first attempt—but you should be expecting it of yourselves.”

  Encouraging, Veronyka thought as another wave of emotion splashed against her from the apprentices. Never had she been surrounded by so many animages all in one place, their emotions high and their magic strong, battering against her like a windstorm. She wished, not for the first time, that Val had taught her more about shadow magic.

  The commander expertly navigated the obstacles, which seemed relatively simple—if he were just on horseback. That, however, was not the purpose of the exercise. Before he began, he ordered the paddock gate opened and the pigeon cage unlocked, calling a hound to his heels and a messenger pigeon to his shoulder. Doing the course with a phoenix soaring above, while keeping a skittish bird on his shoulder and an eager dog trotting alongside him, was another thing entirely.

  As he worked, the commander spoke calmly but loudly, indicating various details of what he was doing and why it was important.

  “You must guide the horse without the reins, so that your weapons will be within easy reach at all times,” he announced, drawing his bow to hit a target halfway down the first leg of the course. Veronyka darted a glance at Petyr. . . . Apparently the bridle wasn’t necessary after all.

  Next the commander leapt several barrels, while keeping his bird calm and relaxed on his shoulder and his dog from running off in pursuit of the caged rabbits, their scent a tantalizing distraction on the wind. His phoenix continued to circle overhead, acting as a scout and guide and keeping him informed of any approaching Riders or threats.

  “However,” the commander said, on his way back toward the group after completing the roughly oval-shaped course, “there may come a time when horse and phoenix must work together, and as we all know, with phoenixes come fire.”

  A piercing stab of fear broke through Veronyka’s mental barriers, so sudden and powerful that she turned, seeking the source. Tristan stood directly behind her, jaw set and sweat dotting his brow. Did the emotion come from him, or from one of the other apprentices clustered nearby?

  Maximian dropped into a sudden dive, emitting an ear-splitting shriek as his entire body burst into flame. The sight was so awe-inspiring that Veronyka almost forgot her duty, and she sent delayed thoughts of calm and safety to the nervous horses shifting and stamping in the paddock behind her.

  The commander’s horse stood his ground, nostrils flaring, but otherwise showed no sign of fear or panic. The phoenix landed mere feet in front of them, burning feathers turning the air around him into rippling heat waves. Then, to Veronyka’s surprise, the phoenix bowed his great head toward the horse and his rider. The commander dismounted and calmly greeted his phoenix with a pat to his flaming neck. Xephyra had been too young to ignite, so even though Veronyka knew that protection from your phoenix’s fire was a part of the bond magic, she was still amazed that the heat had no effect on him.

  With a final flap of his wings, Maximian put his flames out, and the commander faced the apprentices.

  “For today we wil
l forego the finale and focus on getting through the course without incident. Now choose your mounts.”

  Veronyka and the rest of the stablehands stood aside as the apprentices stepped through the gate of the paddock. While the messenger birds and hounds were shared by all, the horses would belong to one rider alone, so they had to be careful to choose an animal that suited them.

  At once, the air around Veronyka filled with the presence of each apprentice’s animal magic, their mental conversations with the horses like whispered words just out of earshot. Though Veronyka frequently crossed paths with the apprentices, usually inside the stables or at mealtimes, she didn’t know any of them very well yet. Still, she had put some names to faces—there was Tristan, of course, and Elliot, the steward’s assistant. She always saw him walking around the stronghold, either tight on Beryk’s heels or running his errands at all hours of the day. There was Anders—tall and lanky, with prominent ears and a near-constant smile on his face—and Ronyn, one of the Pyraean apprentices. Staring at his bristly close-cropped black hair, Veronyka wondered if he’d cut off his braids to join them, as she had done, or if he’d never worn any at all.

  While Jana moved around, offering her expertise and advice on a horse’s skills or temperament, Veronyka and the rest of the stablehands waited off to the side in case any of the apprentices had questions or the horses misbehaved.

  Every time an apprentice stepped toward Wind, he would stomp his hooves and toss his head, snorting irritably until the apprentice moved on. Veronyka worried that no one would choose him and that the horse might be sent back to the breeder.

  While Wind’s disposition seemed to push the other apprentices away, it actually drew Tristan toward him. He watched curiously as the horse deterred several of his fellows in a row, his brow furrowed in consideration, before stepping up himself.

  While the apprentices varied in age and skill, Tristan was clearly top among them. Every morning Veronyka saw them running together on her way to breakfast, Tristan in the lead. They practiced their weapon and fighting skills in the training yard, and Tristan defeated every opponent, whether it was a fellow Apprentice Rider, a Master Rider, or even a stronghold guard. He was an expert at archery, spear and knife fighting, and hand-to-hand combat, and Veronyka was curious to see if his competency extended to his magic.

  He waited patiently as Wind had his little tantrum, all the while emanating a calm—but firm—presence. The horse eventually relaxed, and Tristan moved close enough to let the animal sniff his hands and face. When it was clear Wind wouldn’t bite, he patted the horse on his long, spotted nose. Then out of his pocket came a carrot, and Veronyka couldn’t help but grin as Wind snuffled along Tristan’s arm before snatching it up.

  Clearly Wind had found his rider, and Tristan his mount.

  Intrigued by their quick connection, Veronyka reached out to Wind, wanting to get his measure of the apprentice. Had his affection been bought with a carrot, or did stubborn, surly Wind perhaps recognize a kindred spirit in stubborn, surly Tristan?

  In order to communicate with an animal, an animage had to open a doorway or channel in their mental walls, a passage for their magic to pass through. These were temporary and disappeared almost instantly after the animage released it—except with a bondmate, of course. That passageway was permanent, strong, and stable. Until it was severed entirely.

  Taking a deep breath, Veronyka found Wind’s consciousness, a familiar mix of sweet and stubborn. The more she interacted with an animal, the more easily the channel opened, and connecting with Wind was almost effortless.

  The problem with reaching out is that it leaves the animage vulnerable. If they aren’t completely focused, the chatter of other animals can slip in by mistake, weakening the connection to the first and making it difficult to maintain control.

  And if the animage has shadow magic as well? Then it’s not just animal minds the person has to worry about.

  Before Veronyka knew what was happening, Tristan’s thoughts began to infiltrate her mental barriers.

  She was experiencing them through Wind—or at least that’s how she perceived it. She was only hearing his interactions with the animal, not the full scope of his mind.

  These weren’t projected feelings, like the odd snatches of words and fragmented feelings that the other apprentices unconsciously released into the air. Veronyka had somehow become intertwined in the passageway that Tristan had established between him and Wind. She knew she should pull back—she hadn’t meant to eavesdrop like this—and yet she didn’t.

  It was oddly thrilling to actively use the magic she’d spent her whole life fighting against—even though she didn’t really know what she was doing. But after a moment of confusion, a haze of muddled feelings and extraneous thoughts, she found the thread of his interactions with Wind. He was sending out waves of compliments and praise, of encouragement and promises to be kind. She even discerned the words “xe xie.”

  Tristan spoke to the horse the same way that she would to one of her own animal friends—not forcefully or imperiously, but with kindness and respect. She was surprised, given his explosive temper and haughty attitude toward her. Just as Veronyka’s impression of him rose, the commander came up behind him, and the nature of his unspoken words changed. They turned hard, firm, and authoritative.

  Wind bucked back abruptly, and Veronyka found herself ejected from his thoughts and disconnected from Tristan as well.

  She frowned. One minute he was being kind, the next, dominating.

  After the commander moved on, Tristan’s stiff posture relaxed, and Veronyka assumed that firm control must be what they taught them here, even though she had never found it effective. Gaining an animal’s permanent respect versus its immediate obedience had always seemed the smarter way to go. Val had never agreed, and neither, it seemed, did the commander.

  Tristan notified Jana of his selection, then joined the rest of the apprentices who had chosen their horses and were now adjusting weapons and strapping on their gear.

  The boy named Anders was to go first, and as he mounted up and called a hound and a pigeon, the rest of the apprentices gathered in a group to observe his run, their own horses waiting safely inside the paddock until their name was called.

  Veronyka watched, breath caught in her throat, as Anders prepared to start the course. He silently called his phoenix, who appeared from the depths of the Eyrie, where the rest of the bondmates awaited their summons.

  The boy’s phoenix was half the size of the commander’s, and so too was his performance. His horse kicked and reared, his hound bayed and leapt for the rabbits more than once, and his messenger pigeon took flight near the beginning and never returned. His phoenix behaved correctly, as far as Veronyka could tell, and when the commander demanded to know where the second patrol was, Anders’s answer—relayed from the phoenix—seemed to please him.

  At the end, his bondmate came to land gracefully in front of him, and while the horse started, it refrained from unseating its rider. The others clapped as he dismounted, shouting words of encouragement as Anders’s narrow shoulders sagged in relief.

  Eight more went through their paces, with similar levels of success. The multitasking was clearly very difficult, and while each shone in their own way—some at archery or jumping, others with the hound, the pigeon, or both—none were able to master it all. Veronyka itched to try it herself.

  Tristan was last. The other apprentices, done tending their horses, stood to watch. It was clear by the focused attention of the other boys and the commander that great things were expected of him. Even the stablehands watched eagerly.

  Tristan easily outshone the others. Wind fought against his control—Veronyka could sense it—but ultimately the horse obeyed, completing the circuit without rearing or kicking out. The hound and pigeon also behaved correctly, making Tristan’s run almost flawless.

  Almost.

  Nearing his triumphant finish, Tristan called down his phoenix, the largest of the appr
entice mounts, who flapped his wings and burst into dazzling flame. Everyone stiffened in surprise—except the commander, who watched without reaction or emotion.

  Tristan’s face was focused and intense, and Veronyka couldn’t tell if he’d intended for the phoenix to ignite or if his bondmate had acted against his will. The phoenix landed in a wave of heat and sparks, the horses in the paddock whinnying and snorting while the rest of the phoenixes, who preened on the rocks at the edge of the grassy plain, squawked and ruffled their feathers.

  Veronyka ignored all this, her eyes fixed on Wind. They had a special friendship, a connection, and even at a distance she could feel the horse’s terror. His eyes rolled and his nostrils flared as he reared up in fear.

  The phoenix puffed out his flaming feathers, standing his ground, while Tristan tried desperately to get his horse under control. Wind was having none of it, kicking and spinning around, causing the pigeon to take flight and the dog to dart away, tail between his legs.

  Veronyka didn’t think—she reacted.

  She stepped out from the group, putting herself between the phoenix—who pulsed heat so suffocating that she staggered—and the horse, who continued to try to buck his rider. Tristan was halfway off his saddle now, in danger of a bad fall and possibly a trampling.

  Despite the fear and panic assaulting her from all sides, Veronyka cleared her mind of everything and everyone except for Wind. She found the disappearing remnants of their earlier link and reopened it. Her eyes bored into his, strengthening their connection and drawing his focus away from the phoenix. She put all her magic into a series of calm, soothing emotions.

  Look at me, she said gently in his mind. Keep your eyes on me.

  He tossed his head and reared onto his hind legs, but she never wavered.

  On me, she repeated, the words ringing in her mind. A second later the horse dropped to all fours as if Veronyka were a puppet master controlling his strings. He released one last snort of agitation, then remained still.