Ottilie Colter and the Master of Monsters

by Rhiannon Williams

  She heard bone crack and the wyler hit the ground with a thump. It didn’t fall to pieces. That meant it could heal. She took a step towards it. The wyler got shakily to its feet and she could almost see the bones of its spine clicking back into place. Its fiery eyes met hers. There was a whoosh and a nasty sticking sound as Leo’s arrow flew past her ear and pierced its horned skull.

  Ottilie watched him approach. The shepherds overtook him, hackles raised, teeth bared. One of them leapt forward and sniffed at the bones. Ramona dismounted and Ottilie could hear her checking on Fawn, who stood trembling, fat trails of blood snaking down her leg. Ottilie didn’t move. She looked Leo right in the eyes. He was pale.

  ‘Congratulations. Thirty points,’ she said coldly.

  19

  Fish for Hero

  Seizing the opportunity to escape, Leo ran to report what had happened. Bayo wanted to help Fawn to the infirmary, but Wrangler Ritgrivvian insisted that she and Ottilie would do it, so he accompanied Leo instead.

  Fawn hadn’t been bitten. It was unlikely that she’d been infected with the venom that had made Gracie so sick, but the scratches on her leg cut deep and she was thoroughly shaken.

  ‘The old stables,’ Wrangler Ritgrivvian muttered, taking Fawn’s arm.

  ‘What?’ whispered Ottilie, taking the other arm.

  She had never seen Wrangler Ritgrivvian’s eyepatch up close before. Skip was right. The surface was rough and scaly-looking. It was crocodile skin. But what was beneath it? Was it just a hollow socket stitched over, like Wrangler Furdles’s? What had she done to earn such a punishment?

  ‘That’s where we can teach them,’ Wrangler Ritgrivvian explained.

  Between them, Fawn looked as confused as Ottilie felt.

  ‘I heard about the petition. They talked to all the wranglers, told us to watch you. It’s the only way – they’ll never train girls, but we can.’

  Ottilie didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Meet me at the old stables tomorrow night, tenth bell. Bring anyone you can trust, but stagger it, don’t come in a group.’

  Ottilie’s heart leapt. ‘I know a secret way.’

  ‘Good.’ Wrangler Ritgrivvian turned to Fawn, who was regarding them both with wide eyes. ‘You’ll be better by tomorrow, Fawn,’ she said, as if her words would make it so. ‘You must come too.’

  She nodded, still looking a little confused.

  Once Fawn was settled in the infirmary, Ottilie realised how hungry she was. She stepped out into the twilit lavender field, intending to jog all the way to the dining room. But someone was waiting for her, pacing back and forth outside the door.

  ‘What do you want, Leo?’

  He stopped pacing but shifted his weight from foot to foot. Ottilie rarely saw him so withdrawn. He seemed unsure of what to say. Impatient, she marched past him.

  He jogged up to meet her. ‘I should have signed.’

  She stopped.

  ‘But it wouldn’t have made a difference.’

  She charged on ahead.

  ‘Ott. They would have said no either way.’

  ‘You don’t know that!’ she said through gritted teeth.

  ‘I do. I’m sure. You saw how they reacted. My name –’

  She wanted to shake him. ‘You’re their champion!’

  ‘It wouldn’t have mattered.’

  ‘It might have! And look what’s happening here. They won’t let the girls train, and they’re still getting inside – it’s going to happen again! And Fawn –’ She gestured back to the infirmary. ‘She could have died.’

  ‘So could you,’ he said quietly. ‘You were unarmed.’

  ‘And that’s the last time I will be,’ she said, her hand sweeping the side where her cutlass should have been. It was sheer luck that an armed huntsman was nearby. Leo had only had a bow because he was doing target practice. ‘If the wylers are getting in, it’s not safe.’

  ‘I think someone’s letting them in,’ said Leo, crossing his arms tight across his chest.

  Her stomach lurched. ‘You do?’ Despite her own suspicions, a small part of her still hoped she was wrong.

  ‘Two in the grounds in autumn alone, all of them gathering together, that weird white one … the missing heart … something’s going on. I think someone in here is behind it,’ he said, distress stilting his speech.

  ‘Me too,’ she whispered, stepping closer to him. ‘Leo, we have to tell them about the person we saw. That day we hunted the knopoes.’

  ‘I didn’t see anyone –’

  ‘They were there – Maestro saw them, and I told you it’s not the first time.’ Heeding Whistler’s advice, Ottilie didn’t say she thought it was a witch. ‘Can’t you just trust me?’ she said, gripping his sleeve.

  ‘I do trust you.’

  ‘We have to tell them. You have to. They’ll take it seriously coming from you.’

  He nodded and took a deep breath. ‘It’s not safe in here, you’re right. We should be armed all the time. And they need to learn … the girls … they should be armed too.’

  Ottilie grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard.

  He shoved her off. ‘What is wrong with you?’

  ‘I told you this! I said we need to let them train. Why are you so SLOW!’ She lunged at him and he dodged.

  ‘Don’t shake me again!’

  ‘You’re going to help me,’ she said, firmly. She needed more than Ramona. The Hunt assigned them guardians for a reason. The wranglers didn’t know what it was really like out there – what it was like to face those monsters.

  He opened his mouth to object, but she didn’t give him the chance. Leo was her guardian and she wanted him with her on this. ‘You’re going to help me teach them.’

  The guilt of going against her word to Montie was almost enough to keep Alba out of it, but this was too important. She needed to learn to defend herself and Ottilie needed the use of the tunnel. Thankfully, there was more than one entrance – Ottilie highly doubted all fifteen of them could pass through the root cellar without drawing Montie’s attention.

  It turned out Alba and Skip weren’t the only custodians with knowledge of the tunnels. Several of the sculkies, including Fawn, knew about one or two, which made organising their gathering fairly simple.

  They spread the word, passing out instructions for different groups to use different entry points to the tunnel, and asking anyone who had easy access to fish to please bring a little for Hero.

  Ottilie would have liked for there to be more than fifteen girls, but they had to be cautious. They could only tell those they considered wholly trustworthy. Of course, Ottilie broke that rule when she invited Maeve Moth. She just couldn’t bring herself to leave her out. Maeve was so desperate to learn, and it had been her idea in the first place.

  Wrangler Ritgrivvian was already waiting for them by the entrance to the stone barn. Billow was tethered to a gate nearby. He did not seem at all happy to be there. The hulking roan stallion snorted and stamped, wide eyes roving over things that Ottilie could not see.

  Wrangler Ritgrivvian followed Ottilie’s gaze. ‘I often walk them around the grounds in the evening. Bringing him looks less suspicious.’

  Ottilie moved towards Billow, but he wasn’t in the mood to be greeted.

  ‘Alba,’ said Ottilie. ‘Do you know Wrangler Ritgr–’

  ‘Ramona, please,’ she cut in. ‘And yes, I watched Alba grow up, and I know Skip, of course.’ She shot Skip a familiar smile. Ramona had been giving Skip secret riding lessons for years, and Ottilie knew she still let her ride around the grounds under the pretence of exercising the horses.

  In groups of twos and threes, girls started appearing from the trapdoor inside the stalls. Gracie and Maeve were the last to arrive. Ottilie’s shoulders bunched at the sight of them, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. She told herself again that Gracie could not be the witch … or Maeve – for the first time she pictured Maeve under the hood. But she was the one who had wanted to
train, so it couldn’t be her either.

  ‘What are they doing here?’ spat Skip.

  ‘Maeve wanted to come.’ Ottilie forced her voice to sound casual. ‘I guess she told Gracie. They won’t tell anyone,’ she said, willing it to be true.

  ‘They better not,’ said Skip, cracking her knuckles.

  ‘I have a feeling they’re good at keeping secrets,’ said Ottilie, watching them approach. Gracie was looking healthy again. Her fair hair shone and the golden tone had returned to her complexion. Despite her slight frame, she seemed strong.

  Maeve looked the opposite. She was drawn, her dark hair matted and lank, and she seemed thoroughly sleep-deprived. It was as if Gracie had somehow stolen her strength.

  There was only one person missing. Ottilie hadn’t told Leo about the tunnels. He didn’t need to know, not yet. Out of all of them, he was the least likely to be watched or questioned about wandering the grounds after dark. He often trained on his own well into the night, everyone knew that.

  ‘He’s not going to come,’ said Skip, her attention still fixed on Gracie.

  Perhaps she was right. There had been other offers of help – Gully, Preddy and Scoot were eager, but they were fledges, like her. Besides, she didn’t need them all tonight. The smaller their number, the better, for now. Scoot seemed ready to throw his dinner against the wall when she said Leo would be helping instead. But, clearly wanting to avoid another fight, he’d managed to restrain himself.

  Ottilie wanted a huntsman more experienced than her, someone who knew how to teach. Leo was her guardian, her partner and, despite everything, her friend – she wanted him by her side. She wanted to give him a chance to make up for his mistakes, because she really wanted to trust him.

  Her only fear was that he would report them. And with each passing moment the fear grew stronger. Would he do that to her again? She honestly didn’t know.

  ‘Someone’s coming,’ hissed Maeve.

  They fell silent, pressing themselves into shadows. Ottilie backed into a dangling cobweb. Swallowing her gasp, she tried to brush away the sticky threads without drawing the newcomer’s eye.

  Hero prowled into the light, a fresh silver fish clamped between her jaws. She was making a throaty rumbling sound, almost like purring.

  Leo was just behind her, a bundle in his arms.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Ottilie, and she and Ramona moved to greet him.

  Leo lay the bundle at her feet and unrolled it. Salt-forged knives – enough for all of them.

  He looked between Ottilie and Ramona. ‘I thought we should start with these. It’s the only thing they’ll be able to conceal on their bodies. Until things … until things change around here.’

  20

  A Secret Blade

  As they’d discussed, Leo had reported Ottilie’s sighting of the hooded figure to the directorate. A few days later, Captain Lyre himself asked for an account of things, and Ottilie was called to his chambers after a particularly productive hunt that hoisted her up to thirty-eighth on the ranking wall.

  Captain Lyre had fresh flowers everywhere: on the desk, by the window, hanging from hooks on the walls. Aside from the flowers, the only other feature of the room was an ancient painting of a brown duck behind the door.

  ‘So, more secrets,’ he said, with a smile.

  Ottilie’s mind raced. Did he know about their training sessions? Is that why he had asked to see her?

  ‘Why didn’t you report it sooner?’ He twirled a long finger around the tip of his black beard.

  She let out a shaky breath of relief. He was talking only about what she had seen. But she still didn’t know how to answer. She hadn’t said anything because she didn’t trust the Hunt. That was the truth.

  ‘I didn’t know what – who – it was. I didn’t know if the Hunt knew, or whether they were supposed to. I don’t know. I worried about speaking up after … after everything.’ It wasn’t a lie.

  ‘You listen to me, Ottilie,’ he said, leaning across his desk. ‘You can always come to me. About anything.’ His brown eyes crinkled. He seemed so warm, so genuine. Ottilie felt a pinch of resentment.

  ‘Our petition, did you … what did you do with it?’

  Captain Lyre’s face was unreadable. ‘I passed it on to Conductor Edderfed,’ he said evenly.

  ‘Was there a vote?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Did he even read it?’

  ‘I don’t know, Ottilie. But’ – he met her eyes – ‘you mustn’t draw attention to yourself. Recent events, strange occurrences and this person you saw … they’re talking witchcraft.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘We must all prepare for the worst.’ He paused, looking her right in the eye. ‘But be careful.’

  He knew.

  ‘There have been several more reports of dead animals since you and Leonard found the driftdog,’ he said gravely. ‘We’ve examined them and concluded that something has indeed been eating hearts.’

  Ottilie’s insides churned. It was one thing to suspect it, but quite another to find out it was real.

  ‘But how?’ she asked. ‘They never eat anything – now they’re attacking animals and eating hearts. Why?’

  She remembered the carcasses at Jungle Bay. They had been so decayed, and it was too dark to see properly, but it was possible that their hearts had been eaten too.

  Captain Lyre’s eyes darkened. ‘The legends speak of a creature the ancients called a bloodbeast – it began as a dredretch but became something other, something that feasted on hearts. Legends are reliably unspecific, so we can’t be sure if they ate animals or humans or both. We don’t know where that name came from, or indeed anything more about them,’ he said. ‘But if they are here in the Narroway, I would imagine that your mysterious lurker is involved somehow. Now’ – he leaned back in his chair – ‘I need anything you can tell me … stature, height, did you get a sense of age?’

  She picked fruitlessly through her memories. The figure was often too far away to get an accurate sense of height, and Ottilie was either in the dark, overcome with dredretch sickness or in mortal peril during every encounter.

  Captain Lyre entwined his spidery fingers and frowned. She couldn’t help but feel she had disappointed him. Finally, he dismissed her and she was reaching for the door, but something stopped her. Captain Lyre’s cane rested in a stand to her right. The silver bird head had come loose and she caught sight of a sharp edge beneath. The cane sheathed a blade with a familiar subtle gleam. If Captain Lyre was under the impression that he couldn’t harm dredretches, why was he armed with a salt-forged weapon?

  Clearly, she was not the only one who questioned the rule of innocence. But Captain Lyre himself peddled the story. Why did he go along with it? Ottilie walked away feeling more confused than ever. Still, the meeting had made one thing clear. Training in secret was the right thing to do.

  In a fortnight, fifteen girls grew to twenty-three, then thirty-one, then forty. There were sculkies, gardeners, stablehands, beekeepers and many more. The Hunt kept them busy, and not everyone was available on the same nights. This was for the best, Ottilie decided. So many could not meet regularly without rousing suspicion and their numbers were only increasing. The training sessions happened three times a week. When Ottilie and Leo were unavailable, Ned and Gully took over, then Scoot and Bayo.

  Ramona was almost always there. ‘This is more important than anything,’ she said, as they prepared for that night’s session. Her red hair was braided away from her face, and her eyes shadowed. ‘Something’s happening here, and we need to be ready for it, all of us.’

  ‘They’re talking about witches,’ said Ottilie, lowering her voice. ‘Did you know that?’

  Ramona’s frown deepened. ‘Nothing’s been said to us specifically, not about witchcraft, but Voilies has been blathering on about it ever since that tapestry caught fire.’ She picked up a spear. ‘Come on, we should start.’

  The cavernous barn had space enough for all of them and
it was a large group that night; luckily Preddy had come along to help. They kept their glow sticks buried between old grain bags and rotting bales of hay, cautious of the light slipping through cracks and catching the eyes of the wall watchers by the east gate. They were far enough away that Ottilie wasn’t worried about sound carrying, but lights were easy to spot from a distance.

  The stables seemed less spooky now. It was as if with every lively, hopeful new member of their squad, the living had begun to outnumber the dead. Despite winter’s arrival, the air around the stables no longer chilled to the bone, and the eerie mist that hovered perpetually in the yard seemed merely a glimmering moonlit veil. Even Hero, who had initially put many of the girls on edge, had become a welcome, almost comforting, presence. She had taken to curling up in the corner of the barn, snacking on her fish or sleeping soundly as they trained.

  Ramona had managed to salvage some untipped spears and Ottilie and Leo had got their hands on some clubs. The bows, cutlasses and other salt weapons were precious, and difficult to remove without anyone noticing. Emergency weapon stores had been set up all around the fort after the second wyler attack, but they were located in busy areas and Ottilie was loath to leave them understocked. Still, they managed to swipe a small knife for every new recruit to keep on them.

  ‘We’re going to have to divide into two,’ said Ramona. ‘Spears with me and Noel, clubs with Leo and Ottilie.’

  Ottilie moved through their group, offering help when she knew the fix, and learning herself when she didn’t.

  ‘Don’t let your shoulder lift like that,’ barked Leo. ‘It has to come from here.’ He jabbed Skip in the stomach with his club.

  Skip knocked his club away. She looked ready to punch him. For a moment, Ottilie considered holding her back, but Skip simply gritted her teeth and practised the move again.

  Over on the other side of the barn, Ottilie saw Ramona pacing between spears, offering gentle yet firm advice. When it came to teaching, she and Leo couldn’t have been more different.