Eight
Our next stop was Keris, a bustling fishing village nestled in a small cove. According to Jenara’s list, I’d find a retired battle crow rider here named Lazarayev. They weren’t hard to find either. It took all of a flash of Res’s wings before we had a crowd around us and someone had volunteered to go fetch the old rider.
Flashing Res about was another thing Samra and I had come to an agreement on. I refused to hide any longer, since that was exactly what had led Razel to start attacking Rhodairen towns. It’d be a few days before word reached her of what we’d done in Isair, and by then, we’d have already moved through several towns, following a path that looked very much like we were returning to Aris.
The crowd parted for a middle-aged person with the long, pale blond hair common among the Korovi and a thin, wiry body. I’d met Laz once in Rhodaire, the day I’d wandered into a blacksmith’s shop in the Turren wing, entranced by the black gold weapons on display.
Laz bowed to me, and I returned the gesture, a smile tugging at my lips. “It’s good to see you again, Laz. Jenara said you might be able to help me with battle crow training.”
“And you, Princess,” they replied. “I’d be honored to help, though I have to say I’d heard rumor it was a storm crow you hatched.”
“About that.”
After leading Laz onto the ship and filling them in on the strangeness of Res’s powers, they wasted no time in devising a training plan for us. The most fundamental battle crow power was the ability to harden their feathers into metal, something Res struggled with.
“It’s as much mental as it is physical,” Laz explained. “You have to see your feathers as the metal you wish them to become.”
Res clicked his beak, closing his eyes. A moment later, they flew open, and he spun to face the door to the crew’s quarters as it creaked open. Caylus appeared, his auburn curls catching the first rays of sunlight. I perked up, at once glad to see him outside and suddenly nervous. For a quick, uncertain moment, we just looked at each other. Then I spotted the handful of cooked chicken in his hand, and he smiled sheepishly as if to say, “Not scones!”
Res hopped over to Caylus, cawing excitedly. A knot loosened in my chest, though it refused to let go entirely. He was okay. We were okay.
“You can’t give him treats before he’s done anything!” I said exasperatedly as Res gobbled down the chicken.
Caylus tilted his head, looking perplexed. “He’s hungry,” he said as if we hadn’t had this exact conversation ten times before. All Res had to do was feign an injured wing or sway wearily on the spot, and Caylus would feed him whatever he wanted.
“You’re just doing this to annoy me now, aren’t you?”
Res let out an indignant squawk, and Caylus simply blinked at me.
“Ugh, never mind,” I muttered, marching up to where Res was sniffing Caylus’s hand for missed chicken. “Caylus, this is Laz. Laz, meet the boy who derails all my training sessions.”
Laz waved.
Caylus’s eyes brightened, no doubt at the prospect of seeing more crow magic. This was the boy I knew.
“What are you working on?” he asked.
“Battle crow magic.”
Caylus’s eyes rolled toward the sky in the telltale sign he’d retreated into some private thought as Laz peppered Res with a few more instructions, but as the crow squeezed his eyes shut, feathers fluttering, nothing happened. He let out an exasperated huff.
“You know the way you manifest the clouds?” Caylus asked, drawing Res’s eye. “Try to do the same with your feathers. Manifest the metal.”
Res’s concentration trundled down the line. His wings twitched, his feathers shifting. Then they flickered. I smothered a gasp with a hand. They flickered again, then settled into a deep, shining gray.
Metal.
Res let out a triumphant caw, lifting his wings. I yelped, leaping back as he nearly knocked me to the ground. Caylus caught me with a steadying hand.
“Watch it with those things!” I snapped.
Res chirruped, but Laz nodded gravely. “An important point. Battle crows have incredible strength, especially when armored up. Getting hit with a metallic limb is a far cry from a feathered wing. It takes practice to get accustomed to the additional weight, and even more to control your body in this state. I recommend remaining armored up for long stretches of time while you go about daily activities.”
“You heard them,” I told Res. “Full metal mode for the rest of the day.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon with Laz, during which Res even managed to release a couple of metal feathers as projectiles. Thankfully, Samra wasn’t around to see the holes.
Talon pulled one out of the mainmast and peered into the hollow inside. “I’d’ve thought it’d be the whole feather,” he remarked.
