by Alex London
She rolled her eyes.
“He’s just surprised,” Brysen said. “We both are.”
“You knew I could speak … this way,” she said. “You’ve always known.”
“I—” Brysen began, but then stopped. “I never thought you could speak … like that.”
“Well…” She trailed off. She’d learned some things while they were separated, things she didn’t want to think about. “We have to go now,” she said instead of explaining anything, then turned toward the crush of boulders behind them to lead the way, leaping and hauling herself up a narrow crevasse. Brysen tossed Shara from his fist again, letting her fly to follow, like she’d been trained, so he could have both his hands free to climb.
It must have been hard for Brysen to let Shara off his fist so soon after nearly losing her, but he’d done it anyway. A falconer who wouldn’t fly his bird free wasn’t much of a falconer, and Brysen’s faith in himself was as defiant as ever. Whatever had happened in the woods with those strange boys hadn’t broken him.
When she’d reached the top of the first boulder, Kylee looked down and noticed the smear of blood Brysen’s wrist left as he pulled himself up. Strangely, the gash on his wrist was already closing, although she’d bandaged enough wounds to know that this one should have been gushing dangerously. She’d want to take a closer look, but they needed to get some distance between themselves and the Mothers first.
After summiting the boulders, they ended up on a snow-covered slope, dimly lit by dawn’s approach. The blood birch forest hooked around in front of them; they’d have to cross through a narrow stretch of it again before they’d be out in the open on the other side, and they’d likely be forced into harder climbing after that. The higher they got, the more jagged and treacherous the climb became. For now, though, they could run, and they ran for the trees. Without being summoned, Shara flew back to Brysen.
“She’s afraid,” he said.
They hadn’t made it far before the hooting started. “She’s got good reason to be,” said Kylee. “Owls.”
“Those aren’t owls,” Nyall whispered. He pointed to the left and they saw a flash of white between the trees. Another hoot and a flash of white behind them, a rustle of branches. More hoots.
The pale boys were following them, trying to flank them and coordinating their hunt with hoots and calls. Kylee changed direction, heading at an angle back down the slope, but saw more of the boys below. They turned and there were more.
And then the first owl appeared on a branch above.
Another fluttered down beside it. Kylee stopped, turned, but three more owls landed on the branches, and more hooting came from the boys giving chase. The Owl Mothers wouldn’t be far behind. If they were caught again, Kylee feared that none of them would survive. Üku had demanded obedience, and Kylee hadn’t given it.
Another owl landed. They were being surrounded.
And then Nyall vanished. And Brysen next.
“Down here!” Brysen whispered, and she saw his face in a small opening beneath the roots of a tree. She slid in and found herself face-to-face with one of the pale boys. He wore a woven shoulder satchel across his bare chest but didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons. Her fists balled anyway. Better to be sorry than dead, but Brysen stopped her from lashing out.
“This is Jowyn,” he said. “He’s…”
“On your side now,” the boy said, and though he didn’t sound happy about it, he seemed to mean it. “I know a way they won’t easily follow.”
“He saved my life,” Brysen told her, which wasn’t the same as asking her to trust him, but going along with them was a better option than any she could think of at the moment, and so she followed through the dark and into a maze of caverns and tunnels beneath the forest. They crawled in the dark, smelling each other’s feet and sweat and blood. Brysen stopped every now and then to comfort his bird, who he’d hooded but could still no doubt sense she was not somewhere birds were meant to be. They crawled on and on and on.
“Don’t your friends know about these tunnels, too?” Nyall wondered when they stopped to rest in the close dark.
“We won’t be down here much longer,” Jowyn replied. “There’s an opening ahead.”
“And what then?” Nyall asked. “We’re still on their mountain. They’re still chasing us.”
“They aren’t the only ones chasing you,” Jowyn explained. They heard him scamper away and then a shaft of brilliant light flooded the tunnel as he pushed open a snowy wooden door. He beckoned them up to the opening and the blessed fresh air.
They were on a low outcropping on the mountain’s eastern slope. The sun was rising red and hiding the door in shadows. On a gentle incline below them was a campsite filled with a dozen mercenaries loading their packs, dousing their fires, preparing to continue their ascent toward the Nameless Gap.
“That’s Yves Tamir.” Kylee noted one of the figures standing among the mercenaries. “Goryn’s oldest sister.”
“And Jowyn’s,” said Brysen.
“Jowyn Tamir died,” she said.
“And lived, too.” The boy shrugged.
In the morning sunlight she got a better look at the pale boy. At first glance, he’d looked like a phantom or some deranged snow owl cultist, but she could see in the wide shape of his face, the heavy cast of his eyes, those familiar Tamir features.
Kylee didn’t know what to make of this. Her brother had made an interesting new friend, and that friend had led them to a way out that might have been just as dangerous as the way back.
“What’s Yves doing here?” Brysen asked.
“Probably trying to stop you from giving my older brother the ghost eagle,” Jowyn suggested.
“Well, thanks for leading us here,” Nyall scoffed. “Big help. How are we supposed to get past your dear sister? I’d rather fight a hundred of your covey buddies than Yves Tamir.”
“You won’t fight her,” Jowyn said.
“Oh no, not more of this antiviolence scuzz,” Nyall grumbled.
“We won’t fight anyone,” Brysen said, and the white teeth of his smile flashed widely. He’d sussed out Jowyn’s plan and looked genuinely pleased with it, which meant, to Kylee, that it was probably reckless, foolish, dangerous, and had only the thinnest chance of success. Those tended to be the sorts of plans Brysen favored. It took her a moment longer to realize for herself what the plan was, and it was even more reckless than she’d imagined. It was also a bit of blood-soaked brilliance. “Though there is going to be a fight,” he added.
25
Kylee and her brother went side by side, boots crunching through the sugar-thin layer of ice on top of the soft snow along the slope. The morning air was filled with wind-blown ice crystals, and Kylee hoped the effect of their silhouettes descending backlit toward camp would disorient Yves’s mercenaries. They needed to be befuddled, distracted, and uncertain for a little while, just long enough …
“If this doesn’t work, they’ll use you as leverage,” Kylee said as the figures in the camp began to notice them. “They’ll take you hostage to get me to do their bidding.”
“Why does everyone think you’re the only one who can catch a ghost eagle?” Brysen grunted as he tried to catch his breath. It was hard work going down the slippery slope without tumbling headfirst into the camp. “Not every great falconer could speak the Hollow Tongue … and you can barely speak it.”
She didn’t correct him. She didn’t want to explain that she could speak it better now than she could before because of what the Owl Mothers had taught her. He’d never understand, just like their father never understood, why she didn’t want to learn more, to do more. Everyone who learned what she could do wanted to use her gift for their own desires. She appreciated that, unlike everyone else, Brysen didn’t want her to use her talent, even if it was because he was jealous of it. He wanted to be the hero of this story, and a part of her wanted him to be, too. She herself was no hero.
She remembered a flash of b
lack wings, a blood-chilling scream.
No, not a hero at all.
She shook away the memory and focused ahead, squinting at the bright light shining off the snow. This high up they should have tied scarves around their eyes with little slits in them to prevent snow blindness, but it was too late for that.
“Who’s there?” one of the mercenaries called. He looked more like a trapper than a soldier, ropes and nets tied to his pack, but at his side stood a woman who was definitely more the warring sort. She was one of Yves’s “attendants,” and her hand was already resting on the hilt of her sword.
“We want to talk to Yves!” Brysen shouted down at them. “She knows who we are!”
“But does she want to talk to you?” the attendant asked.
“Well, I am why she’s here after all,” Brysen replied, opening his arms wide, like he was showing off. With his feathered pants, falconer’s jacket, blood-caked wrist, and wild gray hair, he looked something like a mountain hermit.
“Brysen? Kylee?” Yves Tamir called, hiking up to the slope to meet them. She had no bird on her fist, but three porters behind her each carried eagles in cages. Defense or bait, their purpose was unclear. Caged, they’d do Kylee no good if things went bad. She looked up but saw no other birds in the sky. Only Shara on Brysen’s wrist, and the one hawk wouldn’t be much use against Yves’s mercenaries. “You seem to be hiking in the wrong direction.”
“Does Goryn know you’re here?” Brysen asked, and Yves’s face tightened before opening into a smile.
“My brother has an independent streak that I prefer to keep in check,” she said.
“So that’s a no,” Brysen replied.
Yves didn’t answer. She looked at Kylee, still smiling. “You’ve grown up quite impressively. If even half the rumors I hear are true, your little trek might just be a success.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” Kylee responded. “Especially not from Vyvian.”
Yves laughed. “It does seem that what she told us about your route up Blue Sheep Pass was not entirely truthful, but one can’t expect a spy to be completely honest, especially as I’m not her family’s client. And yet … here you are. I can’t help but wonder why.”
“We need your help,” Brysen said.
“Oh?” Yves raised an eyebrow. “But your deal was with my brother, was it not? He can be very stubborn when a deal doesn’t go his way.”
“I want you to negotiate for Dymian’s safety,” Brysen said. “In exchange for the ghost eagle.”
“You don’t trust my brother to uphold his side of your bargain?”
Brysen shook his head.
“A wise young man,” Yves said. “But why would you trust me more?”
“We never forgot what you did for us after our father died,” Kylee said. “We’d have never survived the first ice-wind without your charity.”
“I’m sentimental,” Yves said.
“No, you’re not,” said Kylee.
“No,” Yves agreed, “I’m not. I’ve long known what you can do. Your father told me, did you know that? He wanted me to use you to fix fights at the battle pits in exchange for a cut of the winnings. Such a small man, he was. A gift like yours, and all he could think of was gambling.” She glanced at Brysen. “He even offered you to me as collateral. Said you could clean our mews or work in a pleasure house. A wretched man he was, and you’re better off without him.” She winked. “But you knew that.”
“Yes,” said Brysen coldly. “I did.”
“So you want me to help you reach the Nameless Gap, where you’ll capture the ghost eagle and then give it to me in exchange for my intercession on behalf of Dymian?”
Brysen nodded.
“And yet, you don’t have the ghost eagle, so you come to me empty-handed.” Yves clucked. “This is not a negotiation, then. It is a plea. You’re begging, not bargaining. And I could just as easily seize you right now and send Kylee to get the ghost eagle in exchange for your life. Wouldn’t that make more sense? I don’t understand why Goryn didn’t do that in the first place.”
She nodded toward her attendant, who stepped toward Brysen, drawing her sword. His hand went to his knife belt by instinct, but his knife wasn’t there.
“We thought you’d say that,” Kylee told her. “And I didn’t think this was a great bargain to begin with.”
“Then why’d you come to me?”
Kylee smiled. “You heard the saying about killing two birds with one stone?”
Yves nodded, eyes narrowing, calculating, but she had no idea what was coming. Kylee looked back up toward the ridge. Nyall and Jowyn were well hidden, but she wasn’t looking for them. She had to stall a little longer.
“We’re here because you aren’t the only ones after us,” she explained. “We’re obviously no match for you—or for them—but we thought you might be able to keep each other busy.”
“Who?” Yves snapped, eyes darting now. “Who?”
“Who who,” Brysen laughed. “That’s exactly right!”
Kylee would’ve loved to groan at his twisted sense of humor, but as realization dawned on Yves Tamir, the first owls descended, white feathers racing over white snow. They were invisible until their talons flashed, and then the crossbow bolts followed.
“Defensive positions!” Yves yelled, running for cover as Kylee and Brysen ran the other way, sprinting hard up the slope to round the upper crest of the rock spur while the Tamir mercenaries returned fire and unleashed their eagles at unseen enemies.
Over a dozen Owl Mothers charged from the lip of the slope, following their attacking birds and engaging the mercenaries in combat. Their birds clashed in the air as they fought on the ground, a mix of arrows, blades, and hand-to-hand brawling.
Kylee and Brysen had led the Owl Mothers straight into the mercenaries, and both would keep each other fighting for a while. Kylee didn’t really care who survived as long as neither could follow them anymore.
She and her brother were breathless by the time they reached the top of Blue Sheep Pass and met up with Jowyn and Nyall again.
“I can’t believe that worked,” Nyall marveled, looking down. Yves’s attendants had cornered two Owl Mothers but didn’t see the great horned owl hovering above them, about to drop talons first. Kylee looked away before she heard the screams.
“A quest for the ghost eagle always ends in blood,” Jowyn said sadly. He had created the opportunity for carnage between his estranged sister and former “Mothers,” and he didn’t look pleased with himself. “I hope our quest has seen its last.”
He took Brysen’s curved black blade out from his satchel. Brysen took it, and Kylee noticed their fingers touching as he did; Brysen’s lingering on top of the other boy’s for just a moment longer than necessary. Their eyes were locked. “Thank you,” Brysen said.
Jowyn nodded once, then broke Brysen’s gaze.
“‘Our quest’?” Kylee asked the boy.
“I’ve been cast out,” he explained. “I’ll lead you to the Gap, where the ghost eagle is known to hunt.”
“Why did you save me?” Brysen asked. “Didn’t you know what they’d do to you?”
The boy nodded. “I knew, but I believe in saving who I can when I can. It’s as simple as that.”
“There is nothing simple about that,” Kylee observed.
“No,” Jowyn agreed. The screaming and clashing of blades echoed up from below. “I suppose there’s not.”
* * *
They spent the day hiking narrow trails and razor-thin ridges. Jowyn seemed to know every toehold and handhold, and he never grew winded, repeatedly climbing ahead and waiting for them to catch up. Once or twice Shara flew to where he stood and waited at his feet until Brysen arrived. Her brother didn’t seem to mind when Jowyn picked her up—not the way he minded when anyone else did it.
The sun crossed its apex; they picked their way across a boulder field and then up another demanding slope where a lone blood birch grew. Kylee’s le
gs were burning with the effort of the hike, Brysen was huffing and puffing his way along, and Nyall was doing his best to hide a limp. Neither of the boys would admit to their flagging strength, so it was up to Kylee to suggest a break on their behalf.
“We should stop here for a bit,” she said. Nyall’s back was slumped against the lone tree before she’d even finished the sentence.
“My legs feel like boiled noodles,” he groaned.
Jowyn produced a lunch of cheese and bread from his satchel, and Brysen sat against a rock, feeding crumbs to Shara. He’d rest a crumb on one fingertip and then move it around in circles. The bird looked from the crumb on his finger to his face and back again intently until he stopped moving it and she could peck it off. Every time she plucked a crumb from his bare finger without breaking his skin, he smiled. She seemed to enjoy it, too, preening after each meatless morsel. For a little while, Brysen ignored everyone else. It was like only he and Shara existed.
“You’re keeping secrets,” Jowyn said to Kylee as she watched Brysen. “You should know that those secrets will come out. The ghost eagle has a way of revealing things we’d rather not have known.”
“It’s just a bird,” Kylee grumbled, although it was obvious neither she nor Jowyn believed that.
“What happened with the Mothers?” Jowyn asked. Nyall had his eyes closed, but his head tilted toward her slightly. He was listening. Brysen’s hand went still. He was listening, too.
She took a breath in. How could she tell them? What did they need to know? Both Brysen and Nyall loved her in their own ways, she knew, but she wondered what limit there was to that love. In her experience, no bond was unbreakable, no matter how complex the knots of time and affection that tied it. What she told them now might just sever them all.
She braced herself, took a breath. Remembered a flash of feathers, a scream. Blood was so much easier to spill than truth.
“I’m a killer.”
26
After they’d been rescued from the long-haulers and separated from each other, the Owl Mothers led Kylee to their settlement, a flat patch of the mountain that butted up against a sheer cliffside. There were a number of caves cut into the cliff face, each of which commanded a view down over the blood birch forest, across the lower peaks of the starlit mountain range, out across the foothills, and into the valley. Not much happening below would escape their notice, Kylee thought. The Owl Mothers seemed all-knowing, but really what they knew was how to command a good view. A life in the mountains had taught her that perspective was just as good as wisdom.