She had to act fast, before they had a chance to fully know the space, but there were too many! The moment she aimed for one, the rest would be upon her.
Ottilie made a snap decision.
She stood frozen. She barely breathed. Just as the jivvies circled back to face her, Ottilie lowered her bow, lifted her fingers to her lips, and released an ear-splitting whistle.
The jivvies screeched in response, the entire flock rolling to face her. Ottilie froze, letting them focus. Just as the flock dived, Ottilie spun on the spot, took two long running strides and in one scrambling leap threw herself behind one of the big black blocks. She curled herself into the smallest ball she could manage and listened to the sick crunch of little bones meeting solid marble.
One jivvie missed the trap and shot right past. Ottilie clambered up to stand upon the block. She was just about to aim for the bird when she caught sight of another survivor. An injured jivvie bounced off the marble and spiralled into the air. The other jivvie circled back and raced towards her. Ottilie ducked. It missed her by a breath. Hot air ruffled her hair as it shot overhead. The injured jivvie was regaining its control – still unsteady in the air, it flew towards her, its wing beat uneven. Ottilie took aim and fired. Her arrow caught it squarely in the breast and it fell to the ground with a thump.
Ottilie spun to face the other jivvie and, just as she turned, it was knocked out of the air half an inch from her nose. One of the huntsmen had shot it down – mere seconds before it could pierce her skull.
Ottilie froze, panting and shocked. Tears welled in her eyes. That thing had nearly had her. One second later and it would have skewered her face. It took a moment for her mind to settle and her tears to withdraw.
She gazed around and saw that three of the six huntsmen had opened doors around the arena, ready to shoot that last jivvie down. So that was why they were there – not to protect the crowd, but to step in to save a fledge in danger. She couldn’t be sure which of them had done the deed, but she was grateful beyond belief.
The sounds of the amphitheatre slowly filtered back in. The crowd was on its feet; people were going wild. How they were so excited after watching eighty-five other fledges over four days she did not know.
Ottilie looked down, avoiding all the eyes upon her, and that was when she noticed the bones. She gazed at the pile of felled dredretches. It was as if their flesh had melted away. A dark, sticky substance clung to their bones like bloody tar. Withered feathers stuck out here and there, and dark vapour spiralled from the mess like black spirits breaking free.
It was impossible to be sorry for her part in their death. These things weren’t animals; they weren’t living creatures of soft flesh and red blood. They were malice solidified, death in bestial form. Even with the bronze ring protecting her, Ottilie could sense it. She could smell it. The vapour trailing from their bent feathers and sticky bones conjured sense-memories of pain and fear. What were these unnatural beasts? What evil had invited them into the living world?
An image of a hooded figure swam to the forefront of her mind. What memory was this? Something from a nightmare? She couldn’t remember. Feeling sick, Ottilie tore her eyes away from the bones. Unsure of what to do next, she turned towards the throne-like chairs. Upon them sat three elderly men; the cardinal conductors of the Narroway Hunt. Above their heads was the white marble scoreboard; scratched into the surface, as if carved by a ghost, there appeared a thick, midnight-blue number nine.
A huntsman appeared beside her and directed her to the edge of the arena. Her legs were shaking but she resisted the urge to grab his arm for support. He opened a door and nudged her through. Ottilie climbed a steep staircase and joined her fellow fledges in the stands. She received many congratulations and pats on the back but was still too shaken to distinguish individuals. She sat down on the bench and stared straight ahead.
Somebody gripped her arm from behind. She turned. It was Gully, and he was grinning from ear to ear.
‘You got the most!’ he said.
‘What?’
‘I went fourth. I’ve seen almost everyone. No-one’s getting nines. You got the most!’
19
Guardians
‘I can’t believe they gave you a nine!’ said Scoot. ‘You only actually hit one.’
Ottilie couldn’t believe it either. No-one else had got a nine. They were finally allowed to talk to the other fledges and word spread fast that little Ott Colter from the Swamp Hollows had outscored everyone by at least four points.
‘Ha! Jealous, Scoot?’ said Gully.
‘No. I’m very happy with my three, thank you very much. Just wish I’d dived behind that block instead of facing them like a man. Then I’d have a ten,’ said Scoot.
‘I suppose he’s just cleverer than you, Scoot,’ said Preddy.
A drowsy grin spread across Ottilie’s face as she sat back and let them argue. All she could feel was relief and utter exhaustion; the anxiety leading up to her trial had really taken its toll.
‘Shut up, Preddy. Nice two, by the way,’ snapped Scoot.
‘Five,’ said Preddy.
‘No, Gulliver got five,’ said Scoot.
‘I got four,’ said Gully, flashing four fingers.
‘Don’t worry, plenty of people got less than three,’ said Preddy earnestly.
‘That wasn’t why I – shut up, Preddy.’
Ottilie had heard all about Scoot’s trial. He had actually done very well – using a slingshot to scatter the jivvies, then knocking them back one by one with his club.
The fledges had been led out of the stands and back into the waiting room. Beyond the windows, the sky was dark and an ocean of starlit cloud whirled above the treetops.
‘How long do you suppose it will take them to decide? Do you think they’ll tell us about our guardians tonight?’ said Ottilie.
‘It sounded like they want to partner us up as soon as possible,’ said Preddy.
‘Is it just based on our scores?’ said Scoot.
‘Don’t know,’ said Gully.
‘I guess we’ll see,’ said Ottilie. For the first time, she was feeling excited about being assigned a guardian – someone to focus on teaching only her.
There was a loud knock at the door, then Captain Lyre flung it open.
‘Well done boys! Solid efforts all round. What a show! Now, I’m sure you’re about ready to drop –’
Ottilie yawned loudly. She had quickly learned that bodily functions like coughing, sneezing, and yawning drew less attention if their full power was unleashed. Scoot was constantly mocking Preddy for his discreet sneezes, and scoffing at the way he covered his mouth when he yawned. Ottilie had never been taught to cover her mouth anyway, but she was making an effort to amplify the volume.
‘– so it’s off to bed with you. We’ll have your meals sent up immediately, and I want you all to get a good night’s sleep. Big day tomorrow. My third-favourite day!’
‘What do you suppose his first-favourite day is?’ muttered Gully.
‘We need to get our select elite back to their stations as soon as we can,’ said Captain Lyre. ‘We’ve been holding them captive for a month now, and Richter and Arko want their boys back. So, we’re going to be up all night deliberating, and tomorrow at noon we’ll let you know your pairings,’ Captain Lyre continued. ‘Which means that for some of you, this will be your last night at Fort Fiory.’
Ottilie frowned. She had been trying hard not to think about the fact that she and Gully might be sent to different stations. What could she do about it? Even if she changed her mind about making a run for it, she knew there was no chance of surviving while they were so ill-equipped to deal with the dredretches.
Ottilie trudged up to the bedchamber in a weary daze. Gully was quiet and she knew he was wondering if he was about to be separated from his sister yet again.
The next day, they gathered in the Moon Court, a circular courtyard at the heart of Fort Fiory. Sitting upon three thrones were the mo
st important men in the Narroway, the cardinal conductors of each station – Fiory, Arko and Richter. Ottilie also saw several wranglers sitting behind Captain Lyre and his fellow Fiory directors.
Sculkies lined the walls, their hair braided specially for the occasion. The select elite sat at the front of the curving rows of huntsmen, and Ottilie noted the difference in the colours they wore – green and grey for Arko, and green and brown for Richter. Those in the centre wore green and black, identical to the other Fiory huntsmen filling the courtyard.
The bells tolled twelve and without so much as a word from the front, the courtyard fell silent. Ottilie expected the Fiory cardinal conductor to speak, but it was Captain Lyre who leapt to his feet.
‘Welcome all to this most marvellous of occasions.’ Cane clicking on the stone paving, he came to stand beside the thrones. ‘My dear fledges. For many of you this will be goodbye from us here at Fiory. You will have a new adventure to embark upon, a new fort to explore, and new friends to make. I know you’re all anxious to find out, and we do have a lot of names to get through, so I’ll hop right to it.’ He whipped a long scroll of parchment from behind his back. ‘I am going to move alphabetically according to the surname of the guardian. When I announce your pairing please come forward to meet your guardian and receive your station uniform. Let us begin.’ He tapped his cane and a line of sculkies stepped away from the wall, holding piles of folded uniforms.
‘Banjo Adler of Arko, with fledge Petri Horn.’
Petri Horn moved forwards and shook Banjo Adler’s hand. He received his folded green-and-grey uniform from a sculkie and took his seat at the fledgling table.
‘Bayo Amadory of Fiory, with fledge Branter Scoot.’
Ottilie’s stomach flipped. Scoot prowled over on his bandy legs and shook Bayo Amadory’s hand.
So Scoot was staying at Fiory. He and Skip were both at Fiory. As Captain Lyre flew through the names, moving from B to C to D, Ottilie wondered if it was it too much to hope that she, Gully, and Preddy could also stay.
‘Vincent Dane of Richter, with fledge Holden Hervey.’
Holden Hervey took his seat.
‘Leonard Darby of Fiory, with fledge Ott Colter.’
Ottilie felt like she had lost the feeling in her face. She was staying at Fiory. She would be with Skip and Scoot. Gully gave her a little nudge. Ottilie stumbled forwards. She looked up at Leo Darby and shook his rough hand. Her mind was too muddled to make much sense of his reaction to the pairing.
In a daze, she took the uniform presented to her by the dark-haired sculkie with the strange, bright eyes. For the briefest moment, the girl’s finger brushed Ottilie’s hand and an image flashed in her mind of serpentine trunks, orange-tipped pincers, and a shadow, like a hooded figure in the dark.
Ottilie blinked and it was gone. She shook her head and hurried over to a seat at the fledgling table. It wasn’t the first time she had found herself remembering that horrible day. And now really wasn’t the time to dwell on it.
Captain Lyre moved further down the alphabet, but neither Gully nor Preddy were called. The suspense was unbearable. What was she going to do if Gully was sent away? She had come here for him, come to get him. He couldn’t leave Fiory, not before they’d even had a chance to figure out some sort of plan for the future. What was she doing here, being paired with an elite, pretending to be a boy? This was mad. She was mad. Dark clouds of panic were closing in, only to be cleared by the name, ‘Noel Preddy.’
Ottilie snapped out of it.
Captain Lyre had called for Preddy. She looked up. Who had he been paired with? Where was he going? She didn’t recognise the huntsman who shook his hand but she could see his uniform was green and brown.
Richter.
Ottilie’s breath caught in her throat. Preddy settled into a seat beside her and Scoot. None of them spoke. Scoot glared at the green-and-brown uniform in Preddy’s hands. Ottilie couldn’t dwell on it. She was too busy worrying the same thing would happen to Gully.
‘Porter Quoll of Richter, with fledge Andre Rhodes.’
There were only a handful of fledges left. Ottilie couldn’t take it much longer.
‘Bertram Rittaker of Arko, with fledge Murphy Graves.’
She crossed her fingers under the table.
‘Rudolph Sacker of Fiory, with fledge Klaus Crowder.’
Gully looked nervous. Ottilie wanted to catch his eye but he didn’t look over to her.
‘Bacon Skitter of Fiory, with fledge Rodney Wolfe.’
‘Did you know his first name was Bacon?’ said Scoot.
Ottilie didn’t respond.
‘I thought it was his family name. Whose first name is Bacon? Who calls their son Bacon?’
Ottilie was staring so hard at the side of Gully’s head, she wondered if he could feel it.
‘Edwin Skovey of Fiory, with fledge Gulliver Colter.’ Ottilie’s face broke into a wide grin. She could have laughed out loud.
Scoot actually did. ‘Yes!’ he said.
Ottilie didn’t speak. She was so relieved she could have cried. Miraculously, she didn’t; instead, she gripped Gully’s arm in excitement and glanced apologetically at Preddy.
‘Igor Thrike of Fiory, with fledge Dimitri Vosvolder.’
Captain Lyre went on and on, but Ottilie didn’t hear another name after that. Nothing could top that moment for her – the moment Gully had been paired with Ned. Not the music played by the strange figures in blue hats and robes, or the fizzing flagons of apple cider that sculkies offered on trays, or the mountains of fruit and cakes that followed.
As the festivities wore on, several Fiory huntsmen trickled out of the courtyard. Ottilie supposed they were called to hunt.
‘Don’t get used to this.’ It was Leo.
‘To what?’ said Ottilie.
‘All this.’ He grinned and gestured to the courtyard. ‘Now the hard work really begins. You’re mine tomorrow, see you at dawn.’ He thumped her on the arm and Ottilie was too slow to cover her flinch. Leo made a face, like a mix of mirth and disgust, and strode away without another word.
‘What do you suppose he meant by that?’ said Preddy.
Ottilie shrugged, but she felt uneasy. She had been so relieved to be staying at Fiory that she hadn’t really considered her pairing. Truth be told, she wasn’t overly excited at the prospect of working with Leo. He was smug and superior, and had so far seemed more interested in showing off than being a good teacher.
‘I’m afraid the time has come to say goodbye,’ said Captain Lyre, marching into the centre of the courtyard. ‘Those of you heading to Fort Arko and Fort Richter, please find your guardian and follow their instructions, because we’re finished with you here.’ He saluted theatrically. ‘Safe journey, boys, be seeing you out there!’
There was much scuffling and shuffling as the fledges crossed the courtyard to join their new stations.
Preddy turned to them. ‘I suppose this is goodbye.’
Ottilie wanted to hug him. She rocked forwards on her feet, but panicked before she could complete the gesture. Rocking back, she hitched a smile onto her face and said, ‘We’ll see you soon, I bet.’
‘Definitely,’ said Gully.
Scoot didn’t speak. He clenched his jaw so tightly that just looking at him made Ottilie’s teeth hurt. Then he lunged forwards and wrapped his arms around Preddy in a forceful hug.
Preddy grinned. ‘Be seeing you, Scoot.’
Scoot released him and glared over at the Richter group. Ottilie felt silly that she had thought boys couldn’t hug, and considered trying to sneak one in now, but there was no time. Preddy turned his back on them and they watched as he trotted over to join the Richter huntsmen. Noel Preddy was the first friend Ottilie had made in the Narroway. She didn’t want him to go.
Captain Lyre made his way towards them with a fresh jaunt in his stride. ‘As for you, my fine Fiory fledglings, time for a little relocation of your own! Please follow Wrangler Voilies here to your new sleepi
ng quarters and he’ll give you an idea of things to come.’
Wrangler Voilies led them to the east wing, where he brought them to a wide corridor.
‘This is your new home,’ he said, with a sweeping gesture.
Ottilie felt herself smile. A new home. She was surprised to find that she liked the sound of that.
‘These staircases,’ Wrangler Voilies pointed to two spiral staircases at each end of the corridor, ‘lead to the elites’ towers. So your guardians are close by. You will be occupying these rooms along here. Take a closer look and you will find your name on a door. You have private wash facilities in your rooms –’
Ottilie swallowed a sigh of relief.
‘– and you will share the third-floor dining room with your guardians.
‘Now, as to your schedule, you will accompany your guardian on any and all hunts, patrols, wall watches and guard shifts that do not coincide with our group training sessions. We like to throw you in the deep water here at Fiory. Tomorrow is going to be an orientation day of sorts. Your guardians will take charge, and you will get a sense of what life is like as a Narroway huntsman.’
Scoot elbowed Ottilie in the ribs and she grinned. They really were huntsmen now.
‘There are a few surprises in store for you, but I’ll leave it to your guardians to talk those through. Their job is to introduce you to the work; my job is to refine your technique. That’s all from me tonight. Explore, get acquainted with your new surroundings. Dinner is at the seventh bell. Good luck tomorrow.’
Wrangler Voilies marched back down the corridor. The moment he disappeared from sight, the silence boiled over into spirited babble and the fledges began hurrying back and forth, looking for their name on a door.
11. Ott Colter
Ottilie found her name down the far end, by the stair to the elites’ tower. The letters were inscribed on a copper plaque attached to the dark green door. Scoot’s room was right next to hers and Gully’s was further towards the middle. She felt curiously nervous lifting the latch. The moment felt somehow significant.
Ottilie Colter and the Narroway Hunt Page 12