Her bedchamber was cosy and warm, with a low, curved ceiling and pale walls that were rounded into arched alcoves. The window shutters were painted light green and a small desk was pressed into the corner. An empty bookcase sat by the bed, which was wide enough to fit three Ottilies in a row. At the end of the bed was a big pine chest, packed with folded green-and-black uniforms.
There were two small, arched doors within the room. Ottilie opened the first and found a wide cupboard packed with all manner of salt-forged weaponry. She shut that door quickly. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. The other door opened into a small washroom with a bath and a bell for ringing for hot water. Another job for the sculkies, she supposed. Ottilie wondered what Skip’s sleeping quarters were like, but she couldn’t dwell on that for long. The excitement of having her own room for the first time in her life was too much to be suppressed by guilt.
Ottilie shut the door to the washroom, spun on the spot and leapt onto the bed. She rolled around for a bit, relishing all the space. Ottilie wondered how it would be, sleeping alone in this big room.
There was a knock on the door.
‘Come in!’
Gully sprang into the room and flopped onto the bed, kicking her to the side and stretching out like a starfish.
Ottilie hit him in the face with a pillow just as Scoot appeared in the doorway.
‘How big are these beds, Scoot!’ said Gully, sitting up with an expression of dazed bliss on his face.
‘And how soft!’ said Ottilie.
‘Are they?’ said Scoot.
‘Haven’t you tried yours out?’ said Gully.
‘No. Should I? They’re not that big, are they?’
‘Are you being serious?’ said Gully.
‘Ha! No, I was just being Preddy.’
Gully laughed maniacally, rolling from one end of Ottilie’s bed to the other, this time knocking her onto the floor.
‘I’m going to kill you, Gully!’ she said, her scowling brow peeking up over the edge of the bed.
‘Couldn’t if you tried!’ he cackled.
‘Don’t forget who got the nine,’ she said, scrambling to her feet.
‘I guess that’s why you got Leo Darby, isn’t it,’ said Gully, pausing mid-roll.
‘Everyone says he’s the best, don’t they? Plus he’s a champion. I bet that’s why Ott got him. The best fledge with the best elite.’
‘Hold up right there! Ott got the best score – doesn’t make him the best fledge,’ said Scoot. ‘Sorry, Ott.’
Ottilie shrugged.
‘Pretty big difference between a nine and a three, Scoot,’ said Gully.
‘Yeah, well. We’ll just see, won’t we, once the games really begin,’ said Scoot, chucking a pillow at Ottilie.
Ottilie caught it before it hit her head. Hugging the pillow to her chest, she glanced over at the shuttered window. Caught up in the competition, Scoot’s attitude towards the Narroway Hunt had utterly reversed. It was amazing what a difference a few weeks could make.
‘I wonder what tomorrow will be like,’ said Ottilie.
‘When they say we’re with our guardians tomorrow, do you think that means we’re actually going out there … outside the boundary walls?’ said Gully with a glint in his eye.
‘Course it does,’ said Scoot. ‘We’ve spent weeks cooped up training in this place. Course we’re going out.’
‘But we don’t know anything,’ said Ottilie. ‘We’ve just been training for the trials. We don’t know anything about the different kinds of dredretches, or how to deal with them. What about all … the rest of it all?’
‘That’s why they’re taking us out, I think. So we can learn all the rest of it out there,’ said Scoot.
‘Voilies did say deep water,’ said Ottilie.
‘He also said surprises,’ said Gully.
Ottilie felt her jaw lock. Wasn’t the existence of dredretches enough? She wasn’t sure how many more surprises she could take.
20
Maestro the Wingerslink
Ottilie splashed her face and pulled on her uniform in the light of the early-morning moon. The fledges had been fitted weeks ago, their measurements recorded so that a uniform of the correct size would be ready when they were finally assigned to their permanent station. At the time Ottilie had thought she and Gully would be leaving long before that day would come. Now that it had, she wished she had paid a little more attention when Wrangler Voilies talked them through strapping on all their weapons and protective leatherwear. There were buckles and straps all over the place. It would have been terribly confusing at any hour, but before dawn it was downright impossible.
There were two sharp thumps on her door. ‘Dining room, ten minutes!’ barked Leo, without opening the door. ‘And dress warm.’ He didn’t wait for her response.
Ottilie’s heart rate increased. She would not panic. There would be far more difficult and terrifying things to face today than getting dressed. She could do this.
Ottilie wasn’t sure why Leo had told her to rug up. Summer was only weeks away, and although it was eternally frosty in the mornings, the late spring days were generally warm enough. But he must have had his reasons, so Ottilie layered up with the lightest wintery pieces she could find in the uniform chest, choosing the sheepskin jerkin, tucking a green scarf into her shirt, and grabbing a pair of black wool-lined gloves.
Finally, when everything was locked in place, Ottilie stood before the looking glass. She had never had a looking glass before. She had seen her reflection plenty of times in water and shiny objects – not that there were many shiny objects to be found around the Swamp Hollows. But before he’d had to sell it, Mr Parch owned a hand glass in which little five-year-old Ottilie had examined her face very closely.
Little five-year-old Ottilie was well and truly gone. The figure standing in front of the looking glass was not Ottilie but a ‘brother’ of Gully. Different shades of skin and hair, ever so slightly taller, but every bit as small. She wondered if it was true that the Swamp Hollows had stunted their growth. But no, Peter Mervintasker had always been tall and he’d lived in caves for as long as Ottilie had.
She glanced at her green-and-black uniform. It was better than any of the clothes she had ever owned. The shiny new boots reached up to her knees, protecting her shins, and for the first time in her life they actually fit her feet. Beneath the black sheepskin jerkin a leather-covered breastplate locked her heart away.
Ottilie looked herself up and down. It was surprising how ordinary her short hair seemed. This was the first time she had really seen it, but it didn’t seem particularly unusual. Nor did the uniform, the boots, the knives and bow and quiver across her back, the cutlass at her hip – she was becoming the part she had been playing. The game was less exhausting now. Ott was her name. It was no longer an unwanted nickname from a noxious fool. It was the name her friends called her, even Gully. They were never alone anymore, so Gully never got the chance to use Ottilie, but Ott fit so well she wondered if he would ever switch back.
Time was up.
Ottilie took a deep breath and headed for the dining room. Breakfast was still being laid out when she arrived. Leo’s unusual gingery hair and upright posture made him immediately distinguishable in any space. He was standing by a long table laden with mountains of apples, pears and dustplums, jars of assorted tree nuts, stacks of warm brown bread, and pots full of hardboiled eggs.
Leo was talking to the dark-haired sculkie. Ottilie’s chest tightened at the sight of her, but she shook it off. This girl was nothing to be afraid of. If no-one else had noticed Ottilie was different, why would she have figured it out?
Even so, Ottilie became very aware of the way she was walking. She noticed that Leo’s arms hung further out to the side than hers did. Was it something to do with his muscles? Or was he just stiff that way? As she approached, Ottilie subtly tested shifting hers a little out to the side. It felt strange, and she was fairly certain it looked strange, so she qu
ickly dropped them.
‘You took your time. Come on, grab a plate,’ said Leo.
Ottilie snatched a plate off the stack and began piling it up with food.
‘Maeve, meet my fledge. This is Ott Colter. Ott Colter – Maeve Moth.’
‘Hello,’ said Ottilie.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Maeve, in a low, confident voice.
For the first time, Ottilie allowed herself to hold the girl’s gaze. Maeve Moth had soft, round features, but there was a quality about her eyes that hardened her face, and there was something else about her, an air that somehow aged her. Ottilie couldn’t guess how old she might be. She was odd – it wasn’t in her expression, or even in her voice, there was just something about Maeve Moth that Ottilie couldn’t understand, an unknowability that put her on edge.
Her fair-haired friend wafted past. ‘Montie’s watching,’ she whispered in a singsong voice, ignoring Ottilie completely.
Maeve smiled almost maliciously and turned away. A middle-aged woman with a pink-and-gold scarf tied around her head was staring pointedly at them from the other side of the room. There was something different about one half of her face, but distance and dim light made her features difficult to discern. Ottilie caught her eye, but quickly looked down. It was probably just the paranoia Maeve Moth inspired, but she felt there was a touch too much interest in the woman’s gaze.
‘Right,’ said Leo, leading Ottilie to a table. ‘I’m not rostered on until seventh bell and you’re lucky because it’s a patrol today, no active hunting, so we’ll only get dredretches we happen across on the patrol route. You get much better numbers on a hunt – when you can look for dredretch trails and go wherever you like.’ A rather sullen expression took hold of his face. ‘All us guardians are just patrolling for the next three days to give you fledges time to adjust. Good for you, not so great for me. That’s a whole three days’ worth of points down the drain, unless we get really lucky.’ He sighed. ‘But, it’s necessary. There’s a couple of things you’re going to have to get used to.’
‘What kind of things?’ said Ottilie.
‘Eat up and I’ll show you. Your trial was interesting. Honestly, I thought your brother was better.’
Ottilie had heard about Gully’s trial. Like Ottilie, he had stayed still to avoid detection. He then threw his club to the ground in one direction and his slingshot in the other. The flock divided to investigate the sounds, and Gully attacked one group, taking them by surprise. He cut three down with his cutlass before the other group even noticed what was happening. When they swung and advanced upon him, he took one last jivvie before he had to be rescued by the huntsmen around the edge of the arena.
‘But,’ Leo continued, ‘I can appreciate a good score. That’s why they gave you to me, you know – your high score.’
‘Right.’ Ottilie couldn’t help but feel a little proud.
He grinned. ‘So you’re winning already. That’s good for you. Doesn’t much matter for me. Your points don’t affect mine, but your performance will. We’re supposedly a team now. I’m almost literally going to be carrying you on my back for the whole year, so I need you to keep up, understand?’
She nodded. An entire year … she was going to be spending a lot of time alone with Leo. It was dangerous. He was in the best position to find her out. She would have to be extra careful around him.
‘If you don’t keep up, or if you get in the way, we’re going to have a problem.’
‘I will – I mean I won’t.’ She took a breath. ‘I won’t get in the way.’
‘Good. Come on.’
Ottilie hadn’t finished her breakfast but she thought it best not to argue. Sneaking a handful of brakkernuts into her pocket, Ottilie had a sudden vision of Bill crouched in front of her in the tunnels. Bill thought she was coming back. Was he expecting to see her again? He had probably forgotten her by now. The thought prompted a familiar ache, a feeling she usually associated with Freddie. Ottilie pushed it down and followed Leo out of the dining room and into the grounds.
The inky skies had paled to grey and a glimmer of gold-washed pink hovered over the trees to the east. A thin mist blurred their surroundings, and it took her longer than it should have to realise where they were going.
‘We’re going to the lower grounds?’ she said.
Leo just nodded.
The lower grounds had been completely off-limits to the fledges until now. Tucked away beneath an overhanging cliff, it was impossible to glimpse what was down there from above.
Amber eyes glinted behind the veil of mist as they crossed the only place where the inner shepherd perimeter cut away from the Fiory boundary wall. Even the shepherds didn’t go near the lower grounds. As they passed through, low rumblings and growls undercut the morning birdsong. Ottilie was alarmed. The shepherds hadn’t growled at her since she’d got in the way of one when she first arrived.
‘They can smell it on me,’ said Leo. ‘They’ll growl at you a lot from now on. You’ll get used to it.’
Ottilie had no idea what he was talking about.
They came to a short fence by the edge of the cliff. Leo opened the gate and led Ottilie through. ‘Here. Sit.’ He directed her to a pile of large rocks near the edge.
The world was growing lighter by the minute and she noticed a patch of blue rock poppies at her feet, snaking around towards the edge of the cliff. Leo sat down opposite her.
‘So, hunting orders. They leave it to us to explain, maybe because we’ve been in your shoes. Plus they don’t like you knowing too much until you’re paired with a guardian, in case you start getting your hopes up about a particular order. You get what you’re given. But don’t worry, you got me, and my order’s the best.’
‘Order?’ said Ottilie.
‘There are three hunting orders: foot, mounted and flight. Footmen, obviously, hunt on their own two feet. The mounts ride horses and the flyers fly.
‘Fledges spend a year hunting with their guardian, in whatever order they belong to. At the end of your fledge year you’ll have another trial and they’ll place you permanently in one of the three. Most end up in the same as their guardian, but a few of them turn out to be more suited to a different style. Ned, who you’ve met, spent his fledge year with a mount but ended up getting placed with the footmen. They’ll train you as a group in all three styles later this year so you’ll get a taste of each.’
‘Which order are you?’
Leo pointed to the bronze pin on his chest in the shape of a raptor. ‘The pins are for orders. Raptor for flyers, mare for mounts, wolf for footmen.’
Ottilie’s mind was in a muddle. It was too much information so early in the morning. ‘But it’s not only flyers at Fiory?’
Leo laughed. ‘You seemed smarter in your trial. No. There’s a mix at each station. Our uniform colours show our station, our pins show our order. There are huntsmen with raptor pins in every station.’
Ottilie shook her head. Of course, she’d just realised that Ned lived at Fiory and he always wore a wolf pin because he was a footman. ‘Right, got it.’
‘So like I said, my order’s the best.’ Leo grinned. ‘We get to fly.’
Ottilie’s stomach swooped. ‘Fly?’
‘Ever heard of a wingerslink?’
She shook her head.
‘Nah, you wouldn’t have, they’re not from the Usklers. We ship them in from far south Triptiquery specially for the Hunt.’
‘What is –’
‘They’re winged felines. Picture Hero, but thicker, heavier. And bigger – bigger than a really big horse.’
She narrowed her eyes. He was having her on.
‘You don’t believe me? Doesn’t matter, you’ll see soon enough.’
She pointed beyond the cliff edge. ‘So down there –’
‘That would be the wingerslink sanctuary. The plain old horse stables are over on the other side of the grounds. Horses and wingerslinks don’t mix well. Actually, wingerslinks don’t mix well wi
th anything. The shepherds really don’t like them, hence the growling when a flyer walks by. Though Hero doesn’t mind so much, now that I think about it.
‘Anyway, that’s why the sanctuary is so far down, and the shepherd perimeter cuts through back there rather than following the full stretch of the boundary wall. It also helps that fledges don’t get a glimpse of the wingerslinks when they first arrive. They like you to focus on the trials. Giant flying beasts can be pretty distracting.’
‘And you have a wingerslink?’ she asked, her breath short.
‘I ride one in particular.’
‘Will I?’
‘Ha! Absolutely not. You’ll be riding with me. There’s room enough for two so long as you don’t start weighing me down. Come on.’
He led her to a steep stairway that zigzagged down the face of the cliff. Thankfully the mist was clearing and Ottilie could see at least four or five steps ahead as she followed Leo into the lower grounds.
‘They key is confidence,’ said Leo from below. ‘You’re all in the same position. Some of those fledges will never have seen a horse before, let alone ridden one, and they won’t be sitting on the back of their guardian’s horse either, they’ll have their own. Don’t know if you’ve ever ridden a horse, but riding for the first time isn’t easy. And the ones paired with footmen, well, some dredretches look pretty big from down there, takes a lot of tricky footwork and a lot of nerve. You want to be handy with a cutlass, and spears too. Don’t tell your brother I said that – hate for it to get back to Ned.’
An image of Gully holding a spear up to a monster the size of a bear flashed in her mind. She blinked it away. It was no good thinking about that now.
‘You got the best end of the deal by far. If you’re going to face a monster, might as well be riding a monster. I’m not saying it’s easy. It’s hard, hard as riding a horse if the horse had fangs and could buck you off fifty feet from the ground. But like I said, it’s about nerve. It was never that tough for me, but from what I saw, you’re going to have to work hard.’
They came to a stretch of flat ground. They were still quite high up, nowhere near the base of the hill, and the Fiory boundary wall lay ahead. Wide green fields covered most of the space. Ottilie could see a set of training yards and a collection of pointy pale stone buildings curving around the edge of a field. That, she supposed, was the wingerslink sanctuary.
Ottilie Colter and the Narroway Hunt Page 13