Nox growled. Ottilie heard it distantly, and somewhere deep down she knew it was because of her. The wingerslink lost height. Ottilie was slipping sideways. Nox was speeding towards land. There was still ocean below – she could feel its salty breath.
Ottilie tipped and tumbled down, sinking beneath the waves.
She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe.
Something gripped her in its jaws.
A searing pain in her shoulder.
Everything was black.
44
To Sleep
The swamp creatures were busy. Ottilie watched them going about their business. Little brown crawlers with spines down their backs, grey paddlers with horns, and something bigger, quieter, slipping in and out of the lights down in the deep. She fixed her grip on the damp branch and leaned further, trying to make out its shape.
Rain was bucketing down. It was so loud and yet she was completely dry. The swamp waters were smooth, undisturbed but for the quiet ripples pushed by gentle feet. Ottilie stared down into the water. In the windows between algae she could usually see her reflection. But there was nothing.
She blinked. The swamp was gone. There was only darkness. Darkness and heavy rain.
‘Ottilie?’
Someone was speaking from far away.
‘I think she’s waking up!’ said a familiar voice.
Someone was gripping her arm.
Slowly, as if pushing through thinning fog, Ottilie could see his shape. Gully was at her side.
‘Careful! Watch her shoulder!’ said Leo’s voice.
Her vision sharpened, her awareness with it. Her right shoulder ached as if she’d been run through with a spear. She felt over it with her opposite hand. The whole area was padded and bandaged.
Ottilie squinted at Leo. He was sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed.
‘Nox,’ said Leo, in explanation.
‘She fished you out of the water,’ said Gully.
‘And nearly ate you by accident,’ said Scoot, from across the room.
Ottilie blinked at him. They were in the infirmary.
‘She just gripped a bit too hard with her teeth,’ said Gully. He ran his hand up and down his own arm. ‘They say it didn’t mess anything up. It’ll just take a while to heal.’
Ottilie rubbed her eyes. ‘What happened?’
‘You poisoned yourself with an evil whistle and fell into the sea,’ said Scoot.
‘That’s right,’ said Ottilie. Slowly, it was coming back to her. ‘When … ?’
‘A bit over a week ago,’ said Gully. ‘We didn’t know if you were going to wake up.’ She tried to sit up, but her shoulder protested. ‘A week? What happened after? Are the dredret– is everyone …’
Leo shifted in his seat. ‘We lost some people,’ he said stiffly. ‘But we’re all …’ He didn’t seem able to finish the sentence. ‘Someone should tell the others.’ He jolted as if he had just thought of something. ‘Gully, go get Ned! He’ll be so mad he missed her waking up!’
Gully looked outraged. ‘You go and get Ned! I’m staying here.’
‘I’ll go tell everyone,’ said Scoot, rolling his eyes.
He left the room and they sat in silence for a while. Ottilie’s thoughts were sluggish. The shutters were closed above her head and the comforting rush of heavy rain threatened to lull her back to sleep. She didn’t know what time of day it was. It could be the middle of the night. She found that she didn’t care to ask. There were more pressing questions.
‘What happened to the king?’
‘He’s gone,’ said Leo. ‘Not gone gone – just back to the Usklers.’
Ottilie tried again to pull herself up. Gully helped press her pillow back so that her head was nearly upright.
‘They saved him in the Withering Wood,’ said Gully. ‘Maeve distracted Gracie and Preddy rode off with him.’ ‘So nothing’s changed?’ said Ottilie. She wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by it.
‘Oh no, a lot’s changed,’ said Leo. ‘You do know you wiped out most of the dredretches, right? You remember that?’
Ottilie was about to answer when Ned and Penguin burst in, nearly bringing the partitions down with them. Ned was grinning from ear to ear. He lunged at the bed and Leo and Gully both cried, ‘Careful!’ But he just bent down beside Gully, took her hand and said, ‘Hello.’
Her fingers pressed into his, and she wondered if this would ever cease to take her breath away.
There were footsteps outside and Skip hurried in, followed closely by Preddy, Alba, Scoot and Maeve.
‘You’re back!’ said Skip, leaping onto the end of her bed.
Alba looked a bit teary and Preddy was pale. Maeve’s face was unreadable, but Ottilie could feel something in the air. Something like stepping from shade to sun on a frosty day. Relief and joy and just a hint of dread, as if clouds threatened to block out the sunlight again. Ottilie met her eye, silently saying that she felt the same.
She wished she wasn’t the centre of everyone’s attention. She looked between them all and realised with a swoop of dismay that someone was missing. ‘Where’s Bill?’
Maeve and Skip exchanged a look and Ottilie paled.
‘He’s fine,’ said Ned, squeezing her hand. ‘Don’t worry. He’s just –’
‘Not here,’ said Skip, screwing up her face.
‘What do you mean? Why? Where is he?’
‘It’s Ramona’s fault!’ said Skip. ‘She told Captain Lyre about him.’
‘What?’ said Ottilie. ‘So they sent him away?’
‘Well, sort of,’ said Skip, very quickly. ‘They had a long talk and Captain Lyre convinced him to sneak onto one of the king’s carriages. He really wanted to stay and wait for you to wake up, but there wasn’t enough time.’ ‘What? Why would he … ?’
Maeve stepped forward. ‘Bill’s going to spy for Captain Lyre. They didn’t want to miss whatever happens when the king arrives back at All Kings’ Hill – after all this, it’s bound to be interesting.’ Her eyes flicked around and she lowered her voice. ‘They’re – Captain Lyre and Ramona, and I’m guessing some others – they’re planning to overthrow him. We’re not supposed to know that, I don’t think. But Bill told me, and they told Skip, obviously … because they want her to go east with them.’
Ottilie stared at Skip. ‘You’re leaving?’
Skip nodded.
‘But … so … if they get rid of the king, then doesn’t his first cousin step in?’ She looked at Leo. ‘Odilo Sol?’
‘I think they want to stop that happening, too,’ said Preddy, from behind Skip. ‘They’re planning to put Captain Lyre in as regent until she’s older … and ready.’
‘She?’ said Ottilie. Her eyes snapped to Skip. ‘You?’
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ said Skip. ‘I said I’d go with them and they can teach me whatever they want, but we’ll just see …’
It was too much to wrap her mind around. Ottilie kept reliving the moment she had met her – Skip, surprising her in the springs and swinging a mop around, saying she wanted to hunt dredretches. Ottilie felt like her head was about to explode.
‘But … what’s happening here? What about the rest of the dredretches? What’s going on with the Hunt?’
‘It’s been a big week,’ said Leo. ‘There are some dredretches left. We don’t know how many. But mostly in the Laklands, we think. There’s still the Withering Wood and the patches of sickness, but we’re not sure if dredretches can come through there without Whistler to call them out – like they can from that patch above the slaver caves.’ His frown deepened. ‘We’re going to test what we can do with water from that spot below the Dawn Cliffs – see if it helps.
‘And we think there are still some bone singers out there, so we’re working on tracking them and their bloodbeasts down. The plan is to make the Narroway safe and then see what we can do about the Laklands.’
‘The Hunt’s changing,’ said Skip. ‘The king just left it in the
hands of the directorate and ran as far east as he could. But Captain Lyre took control. It’s the first part of his rebellion. He said that, as far as he’s concerned, the Narroway’s not under the king’s rule. After everything that happened here, the king’s not stupid enough to try to take it back – not right now, at least.’
Ottilie didn’t know what to think. Penguin sniffed at her bedcovers, drawing her gaze. She stared down at Ned’s arms, which were resting on the bed. His sleeves were rolled up and his star-shaped burns had finally begun to heal.
‘Captain Lyre spent the whole week dismissing people,’ said Ned. ‘Edderfed is out. So are Yaist, Voilies, Kinney and Furdles … and that’s just at Fiory. I don’t know how many he threw out of Richter and Arko. Pretty big surprise to a lot of them that he’s a Sol, but the confusion around that helped him take control. Plus, a lot of the adults aren’t too keen on sticking around anyway – not after the dredretches attacked the stations. He’s making Wrangler Morse the new Cardinal Conductor of Fiory.’
‘And they’ve announced that the Hunt’s voluntary,’ said Scoot, with a grin. ‘Anyone who wants to leave can go.’
‘The pickings won’t happen anymore,’ said Ned. ‘And eventually they’re going to spread the word and let people come here to train. But they know recruiting is going to stir up trouble with the king, so they’re going to wait a while.’
It was so much news, all at once. Ottilie felt dizzy. But she couldn’t get past one thing. Looking at Skip, she said, ‘I can’t believe you’re leaving.’
Skip cringed, and Ottilie got the sense she was missing something.
‘It’s not just Isla,’ said Preddy. ‘I’m joining them. I want to help.’ He glanced at Alba.
Ottilie turned to her and said, ‘Not you too?’
Alba nodded, her mouth drooping. ‘I think I’ll be of more use with them, and I want to help Skip.’
‘But what about Montie?’ said Ottilie.
‘She’s going to come too.’
Ottilie felt like her world was crashing down. Bill was already gone. Skip, Preddy, Alba and Montie were all going east to join the rebellion. She didn’t know what to do. What did she even want? Her eyes flicked between them all, landing last on Leo. Could they all go? Bringing down Varrio Sol was a worthy cause.
Leo seemed to read her mind. He shook his head. She knew; of course he would not want to leave. He wanted to hunt dredretches. She didn’t even need to ask Gully. Gully would want to stay too. But Scoot? Scoot had never seemed truly happy being part of the Hunt. She looked at him, raising her eyebrows in question.
‘I’m staying. I want to clean up this mess,’ he said, his jaw jutting out.
‘Me too,’ said Maeve. ‘I think magic is needed here more than anywhere, and there’s a lot of witch history in the Narroway – so much more to learn.’
Ottilie looked at Ned.
‘I’m going home – once they can spare me,’ he said.
Her face fell.
‘Not for long,’ he added. ‘I want to see my aunt and my brother. But I’ll come back.’
Ottilie felt pulled in every direction. She wanted to stay. She wanted to go east. She wanted to find Old Moss and Mr Parch. She even wanted to go and see Sunken Sweep – see anything, everything, fly Nox across the Usklers and see the land that they had saved. Further, even … Triptiquery and inland beyond, whatever was left of the Roving Empire. There was so much more out there.
But Gully was staying, so that was it, wasn’t it? She would have to stay too. Or would she? She looked at him. He wasn’t so small anymore. He was a champion of the Narroway Hunt. He could look after himself, and he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t just the two of them. Leo would be here, and Scoot and Maeve.
‘You don’t have to choose,’ said Gully.
Ottilie fiddled absentmindedly with the bandages on her shoulder. Her stomach rumbled. She had not eaten in an entire week and was in no state to go anywhere or do anything.
For now, they were together. The rain grew louder and her weary head settled on a single thought: how miraculous it was to be safe and warm in bed.
She glanced at Gully, then let her eyes slide shut. It was true. She was free to go wherever she liked. Her world was so much bigger now. She could hunt dredretches, join a rebellion, explore as much as she wished.
She had wings.
Acknowledgements
To everyone at Hardie Grant Egmont, I cannot thank you enough. Marisa, Penny and Emma, it has been an absolute pleasure working with you – thank you for everything. And a very big special thank you to Luna – I can’t imagine how these books would have turned out without you! Thank you, too, to Haylee, Tye, Ella, and to everyone who helped Ottilie on her way.
Maike and Jess, this cover is breathtaking. I adore it. I am so grateful for your brilliant work across all three books.
Thank you to all the reviewers and bloggers who have been so kind, and to the librarians, teachers, booksellers and everyone who has talked about this series or passed it along.
A big thanks to Julia and Trish for becoming my unofficial distributors, and to the rest of my family for being so wonderfully supportive. I live for tales of ‘uncley pride’.
To my sisters, I know I am a strange stony creature, undeserving of your warmth. Thank you for caring about this, and me, and everything.
Mum, thank you for doing all the things I tell you not to do – the compulsive buying, the chatting, the dropping into bookshops, libraries, and schools ... Dad, thank you for printing out covers and waiting patiently until you’re allowed to read final drafts.
This series was a beast at times, but mid-battle a smile or a shoulder was always nearby. To my fantastic friends, I have no idea how I found you or why you stick around, I thank you all so very much.
Jack, thank you for spelling out titles on planes and forcing these books upon everyone you meet. I’m so grateful for your tireless encouragement. Carl, thank you for dealing with my doubts – you are so very good at letting in light. And Lu, you’re the Bill to my Maeve and I could never have finished this thing without you.
About the Author
Originally from Taradale, Victoria, Rhiannon Williams is now a Sydney-based writer. She studied Creative Arts at university, has climbed Mt Kilimanjaro, and once accidentally set fire to her hair onstage. Her Ampersand Prizewinning debut novel, Ottilie Colter and the Narroway Hunt, was published in 2018 and has also been released in Germany and the Netherlands. In 2019 it was named a CBCA Notable Book, an Aurealis Awards finalist, and shortlisted for the Readings Children’s Book Prize and the Speech Pathology Australia book awards.
Ottilie Colter and the Withering World
first published in 2020 by
Hardie Grant Egmont
Ground Floor, Building 1, 658 Church Street
Richmond, Victoria 3121, Australia
www.hardiegrantegmont.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers and copyright holders.
eISBN 9781743586778
Text copyright © 2020 Rhiannon Williams
Design copyright © 2020 Hardie Grant Egmont
Cover illustration by Maike Plenzke
Cover design by Jess Cruickshank
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