‘Exactly,’ says another witch, striding over to them from the front door. Dreska and Inesh reach for their mugs, taking in this new witch through the steam as they sip from them. But Brielle stands, sensing the power immediately, sensing the presence of a master hunter. The witch stops before Brielle, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Fey, friend of Mira’s. Is she with you?’
Brielle takes Fey’s hand in her firm grip and shakes it. Her magic pulses under her fingers. It’s more potent than she realised. ‘Afraid not. She’s stayed on Ennor. We’re readying for war.’
‘So I imagined,’ Fey says, a faint smile tracing herlips. ‘You see this?’ She indicates a fresh pink scar, still healing, stretching across her skin. ‘If it weren’t for Mira, this would mark the skin of a dead hunter. My brother, Soturi, was killed in the Trials. And still the other rulers see us as little more than drake riders and a potential threat. But we – we see them. We see all of them for what they truly are, especially now.’
‘It was a truth-finding endeavour for you?’ Brielle asks.
Fey nods, sliding into a chair. ‘The ruling council is a threat to all of us – that much we gleaned. If your isles fall, like the Far Isles, then it won’t just be a symbolic move of power. They will have an unbreakable stronghold. If you lose, if the isles fall entirely, it sends a message to every territory on the continent. It’ll rip it apart, or they’ll all bow before them. Either way, it does not suit us.’
‘And you offered Mira your help because of this?’ Brielle says, taking a sip of the chillvain brew and instantly warming. She taps her finger against the mug. ‘I’ve never known an apothecary brew to be served in an inn before.’
Fey smiles. ‘We view magic differently here: it is life, it is warmth, it is all. It is not hoarded or used to establish power and greed like in your Arnhem covens. Here, magic is shared. Which brings me to your fledglings …’
Brielle glances at Inesh and Dreska. ‘What of them?’
‘They need to train, to prove themselves, to learn the ways of a coven?’
‘Yes.’
Fey claps her hands once. ‘Then you will stay at the coven house tonight and we will go out tomorrow.’
Brielle frowns. ‘Go where?’
‘To the ice. So you can learn the ways of our coven,’ she says, nodding. ‘Tomorrow we ride drakeback and hunt wyvern. Prove yourselves worthy of riding drakeback and I will know how much aid I can send to your isles. A drake senses honour and the good in a creature’s heart. If your intentions are true, we will support your plans.’
They assemble well after the sun has graced the cold land the next day. Dreska and Inesh whisper about the brevity of night here at this time of year, discussing the eye masks they wore so they could sleep. Brielle, remembering her last visit, only smiles. This is the nature of a hunter’s life, adapting to the changing landscape, the weather, the shape of the day in each new place. To her, this ever-changing pattern, life on the road, is home, far more than Coven Septern ever was. Now she has a new home on Ennor, she doubts it will be any different. The call to travel, to hunt, is in her blood. And now is the time for Dreska and Inesh to discover it is in theirs too.
‘A fine day for it,’ Fey says as she holds out three sets of gloves and spelled goggles to the witches. ‘Wear these. They’ll help you see. Keep a grip on the reins, so you don’t fall mid-flight. The drakes are kindly, but ifthey’re harried they’ll protect the rest of their bloom, the other drakes in their pack, before considering their rider’s comfort. And if you mistreat them, or if they sense ill intent, they will refuse to carry you.’
‘Consider us warned,’ Brielle says as Dreska and Inesh take the goggles and gloves and put them on.
‘Do we actually get to ride one?’ asks Dreska, wide-eyed, as she stares at Fey’s drake, steam snorting from its nostrils.
‘You will sit behind my witches for now. No flying solo today, fledgling.’
‘It’s Dreska,’ Dreska says, moving her dark hair from her eyes to meet Fey’s. ‘And Inesh.’
Something sparks in Fey’s gaze and she nods. ‘Of course, Dreska. You’ll ride with Figgi. And Inesh? You’re with Nairis. Brielle, with me.’
Brielle turns for Fey’s drake without looking at Dreska or Inesh. They have to learn to move through the world without a coven at their backs. If they are hunters, they will often hunt alone. They must learn to rely only on themselves.
The cool ridges of the drake’s back do not dig into her flesh as much as she thought they would. Instead, she finds herself seated comfortably, able to grip a secondary rein behind Fey, her boots in stirrups, holding her in place. Fey looks back only once, her goggles hiding her expression. Then with a sharp whistle, the entire bloom of drakes rise into the sky. The beating of wings as the drake climbs the air drifts is almosttoo much for Brielle at first. But as the drakes form a pattern, spearing in formation over the icy caps of the mountains surrounding the town, she releases a breath. The wind whips over her stinging cheeks, thighs chafing as she clings tightly to the drake’s back, but she’s enjoying it. She’s not traversing, this is not the result of an uttered witch word moving her through space. She’s actually … flying.
Glancing left then right, she sees Dreska and Inesh on the back of the two other drakes, Figgi and Nairis in front of them. Then Figgi emits a whistle that could almost be mistaken for the wind and Brielle notices the horde of wyvern. They are snaking over a plain on an air current below, harrying a group of creatures on the ice that look almost like wither beast, but with pale, iridescent fur.
‘Hellicorn,’ Fey shouts over her shoulder to Brielle. The word catches on the wind, whipping into her mind. She’s heard of them, but never seen the elusive creature, let alone half a dozen in one place … ‘They’re sacred. Legend goes that if a hellicorn greets you and allows you to approach, you and your descendants will be blessed. Here, you take my reins.’
Brielle scrambles for them as Fey lets go, swinging her bow, secured to her back over her shoulder, an arrow already nocked. Brielle grins, finding the other witches have done the same. Except … Inesh and Dreska both hold bows as well.
‘You’ve armed them,’ Brielle says, too stunnedto object that they may fall, that they may lose concentration, that they do not know how to traverse to the ground safely should they slip.
‘This is the way of our coven, Hunter,’ Fey says before pulling back on the bow, unleashing an arrow. The feral cry of a wyvern is the only sign that it has hit its mark. ‘We’ll know soon enough if either of them are truly hunter-born.’
Just as Fey says this, Brielle glimpses another arrow unleashed. But this time it’s from the right. She whips round, seeing Dreska’s grin of triumph, and the empty bow in her hands. Fey laughs then fires another. Figgi and Nairis do the same. The drakes roar into the wind, scattering their prey far below, and the hellicorn take off into the ice, hidden once more from the wyvern.
In moments, the drakes spiral downwards, alighting on the plain. Brielle leaps to the ground, landing next to a wyvern carcass. The arrow Dreska shot is buried in its skull. She turns to her as Inesh shimmies off the drake’s back, whereas Dreska leaps as Brielle did, landing on her feet and striding over. She bends to inspect the wyvern and nods, satisfied. ‘Father would call it a clean kill.’
‘This one over here is still alive!’ Nairis calls and they all stalk towards her. The wyvern twitches on the ice with a hiss of pain and fury. ‘Who will claim the kill?’
