Unbelievable.
I didn’t realize that I had expected him to stand with us, fight with us, until the cold wash of disappointment floods my system, overriding all previous emotions of excitement and happiness for winning. Weren’t we allies? Which Underworld clan is attacking and why are the two leadersnot doing anything?
I glare at him, yet he remains still, knuckles white as he clenches his chair.
“FIRST-STONES BACK TO THE KEEP!” Commander Hogsmith instructs.
Chaos ensues around me as cadets, Watchers, and Elves ready for a battle. Orders are bellowed, weapons distributed, and rocs land hard on the ground next to their Elven companions. The WatchGuards begin to line up in columns and stablehands ready the horses for all second and third-stone cadets.
Has anyone called for reinforcements from training cadets like this before? All I know is that I’m not going back into the castle and standing by while other innocent lives are taken once again by Underlings.
The entire field is so engulfed with noise and blurs of readying soldiers that no one sees when the white roc I battled in the first task lands next to me with a thump. Heru bends her large neck downward in a sign of respect. I bow in return and mount her feathered back, grabbing the leather hand holds just in time before she launches into the sky.
30
Feather, Fire, and Snow
We approach the Grass Land town with speed I have never experienced before. Heru is smaller than her other roc counterparts, but she is fast and can maneuver more aptly than her kin. The fury in her soul matches mine with each sweeping beat of her wings. I wish I could appreciate the view from up here, the wind in my hair, the ability to see for miles—but all I can see is the burning village before me. All I can hear are the distant screams of the villagers below, caught unaware by the attack.
Angry red plumes of smoke are visible from miles away. A large thatched roof of a house blazes with fire, burning wildly until it crumbles within itself, the structure no longer sound. My heart pangs with worry, hoping no one was still inside. Wooden fences surrounding the farm houses lay broken on the ground as pigs, goats, and horses run feverishly amongst the chaos.
Castor and Leaf ride below a day behind with the other Watchers, not yet aware of my flight with the Forest Tribe. I hadto risk coming. There is no way I’m going to let another small Midland village fall to an Underling attack. If this means I’m in trouble, then so be it.
My fury rages and burns like the flames in the distance, collapsing yet another roof.
Lord Clayoq rides at the front of the formation on a huge brown roc. Opita flanks on the right, riding a black and white roc, while Tofina leads from the left on a roc the color of rust. None of the other roc riders seem to care that I’m atop one of their beasts in the back of the formation. Only one Elf, named Garrot the Birdkeeper, offers quick suggestions: keep my body forward, head down, and to lean into each corner.
Garrot’s auburn hair is shaved closely to his head on the sides, exposing different scar-like ruins, too intentional to be accidental scars. A long braid runs down the center of his head to the middle of his back. He rides a midnight blue roc that seems to fly effortlessly beside Heru.
Raising a cupped hand to his mouth, Garrot yelps a war cry that flickers between two notes in quick staccato, summoning the warriors around him to fly fast, tofight.
The hair on the back of my neck raises, nerves beginning to take hold.
Garrot’s eyes are wide, pupils blown with excitement for the battle to come. Both Heru and the dark blue roc seem to respond to his cries with heavier pulses of their wings, beating faster and faster until we are right above the battle.
“Prepare to drop, little human,” Garrot calls over to me. “Swing your leg around and hold with just your arms. Once you get within ten feet, drop and roll. Protect your head.”
Panic threatens to freeze my ligaments, and I clutch the white feathers of Heru’s back. With no time to think, I spring into action and copy Garrot’s movements. I swing my legs over the side of Heru until I’m hanging by the leather hand strap, feetdangling in the air. Our rocs swoop downward toward the snowy field tracked with mud on the outskirts of town.
Panic threatens to overtake my system, my breathing too shallow, too quick.
You can do this.
Drop and roll.
Protect your head.
“Hold,” Garrot calls. We continue the dive down until I am certain we are going to hit the ground. “Now!”
I let go and drop to the hard earth below. My knees buckle at the impact, and at the last second, I tuck myself into a ball and roll. Garrot seamlessly dismounts and is already on his feet, helping me up. Heru and the other roc bank upward.
A single white feather drifts downward, gently swinging side to side like a pendulum in the wind. I grab it before it falls to the ground.
Garrot looks at me in awe. “She has bestowed a great gift upon you, human. A feather is a sign of trust granted only between rider and roc.”
Surely this is a mistake. “But I’m not a rider!”
He chuckles. “You are now. The feather is your connection to her. You can call upon her anytime, and she will heed your call.”
