Chapter 13
The day crawled by much to her anxiety’s delight.
Every minute that passed, Ezer felt more tension building in her shoulders and chest, like she was a coiled wire about to snap.
She wondered if this was how prisoners felt before their march to the gallows.
If this was how Ervos had felt when he climbed aboard the recruiting wagon and faded into the mist.
She read for a while, discovering the book Kinlear had left on the table was an old Realmist’s account of training war bears. There was more on war eagles, from basic ground motions to the most intricate commands in the saddle.
All things she’d never learned, for she hadn’t even ridden a godsdamned horse.
How was she to get close enough to touch the raphon, let alone get a halter over its beak – then a saddle? Did they even have saddles and bridles, strong enough tack, to fit the raphon?
Of course there was nothing on training them.
Probably because such training had never existed, and if anyone had ever tried, they hadn’t lived to tell the tale, let alone write a book about it.
‘Death,’ Ezer said aloud, and blew out a long, slow breath. ‘The only end to this is death.’
At some point, Izill came by to check on her, the only truly friendly face she’d met in the Citadel thus far.
‘There you are,’ Izill said when she arrived, pushing an empty kitchen cart. Apparently, she worked most of her time in the Citadel’s kitchens. ‘Oh, Dhysis bless you. You look faint.’
So Ezer shut the book and told her of her fate, in part because speaking it aloud helped the reality of it settle in a bit more. And also because if she was to go back to her bed settled right beside Zey’s, she wanted at least one person she could turn to.
It felt like walking into a den of hungry wolves.
‘I’m going to die,’ Ezer said.
Izill simply waved a hand and said, ‘How do you feel about tea?’
The Citadel, it seemed, had the best food Ezer had ever tasted, for Izill then scurried away, returning half an hour later with so much food it could have fed an army.
It consisted of a delicious creamed lentil soup, a croissant piled high with roasted meats and melted cheeses, and when they were done with that, Izill introduced Ezer to the sweet cinnamon rolls that she claimed were the King’s favorite, so there was a fresh batch every day.
And after that, a mug of steaming mint tea.
They talked and ate, and talked some more, and when Izill left to see to her own duties, Ezer buried her nose in a book again, hoping her mind would settle.
It never did.
‘What are you reading?’
Ezer glanced up from her book at the sound of Arawn’s voice. The moment she saw him emerging up the stairs, the spell of the library seemed to break.
‘A study on death,’ she said. ‘And how, exactly, the raphon chooses to kill its prey. It stalks them, in case you’re wondering.
And then it tears them apart, limb by limb, and eats its fill.
It leaves the rest of the body behind, but the biggest, most marrow-filled bones, it carries back to its nest. Like a dragon hoarding treasure. ’
He looked at her like she’d just sprouted three heads.
‘Thanks for the warning,’ she grumbled at him.
He paused by the hearth.
‘It isn’t my job, Minder, to warn you of what’s to come,’ he said. ‘My loyalty is to my family first. Kinlear is my blood. And with his work, he has tamed many war eagles. My own mount he trained so well that she’s saved me countless times in battle.’
It was the first time he’d spoken of his war eagle.
She wondered which one it was, if she’d passed it in the rows of stalls.
‘Then why do you seem to hate him so much?’ Ezer asked.
Arawn’s face flushed with red. ‘Because family is complicated. And sometimes, the ones closest to us can hurt us the most.’ He sighed. ‘I warned you about asking questions. Let’s go.’
‘Manners wouldn’t hurt, for a woman standing at death’s door,’ Ezer said.
So he sighed, held out a hand as if to help her up, and added, ‘Please.’
She didn’t take it.
And as she followed Arawn out of the library, she couldn’t help but stop on the threshold and glance back at the books, feeling like she was seeing them all for the very last time.
The walk upwards to the Aviary was just as harrowing as before and, it turned out, far worse with a full stomach. By the time Ezer clambered to the top, frozen to the bone and nauseated from how high they were, she threw up on Arawn’s boots.
‘You’re weak,’ he said, when she stood up and wiped her mouth with the back of her dark sleeve.
‘And?’ Ezer asked.
He looked more annoyed than disgusted as he kicked fresh snow over the mess.
‘And you should equip yourself with something to combat that weakness. A training routine, for starters. So you can move swiftly on your feet when you’re minding the raphon.’
‘And if it grows hungry and decides to make a meal of me?’ Ezer asked.
He balked at her.
‘A joke,’ she said, ‘which I am beginning to learn is wasted on you. Or do you only save your fun side for Absolution?’
He turned away, not looking back as he said, ‘I was under the impression that jokes had to be funny.’
The Aviary was already in full swing with the preparations for battle. This time, the others who had ignored her now stared as she and Arawn entered.
She wanted to shy away from their gazes. Instead, she kept her chin high as she followed Arawn, even when she passed by Zey, who sharpened her blade as she locked eyes with Ezer.
‘Careful, Wolf Bait,’ Zey whispered, as if she knew all Ezer’s fears. ‘The pup likes to dine on the scrawny ones the most.’
She winked as Ezer turned the corner, following Arawn through a black door with heavy bars on its rounded window, like an entrance to a castle’s dungeons.
‘The catacombs?’ she asked.
They walked down a single rounded tunnel lined with blue torches. The ground slowly sloped downwards, until it was so cold, she could see her breath forming before her in clouds. Frost glistened on the walls, reminding her for a moment of the labyrinth inside her dreams.
‘Couldn’t afford to heat the place, I guess,’ Ezer grumbled.
‘Raphons nest in the Sawteeth. They like it cold,’ Arawn said. ‘Did you read anything of use in the hours you had to prepare for tonight? Anything to set you up for survival, Minder?’
‘I ate,’ she said. ‘My last meal.’
He stopped walking. ‘Would it be so bad to consider yourself capable? To consider that you just might survive in there? The fact that you’re still here, alive and well, is proof that you must have some gift the others do not.’
She was surprised by how stern his tone was.
‘Positivity, Minder, goes a long way towards survival. Every soldier knows that.’
‘Says the king of scowls and snarls,’ Ezer said to his back. ‘And scars upon his face.’
‘Indications that I have, indeed, survived. And I intend for you to as well.’
The corridor opened up to reveal the exit. A runed portcullis gate was raised over their heads.
They nodded to the Sacred standing guard – Ezer noted the runed crossbow leaning against the stones – and entered into what looked like some kind of enormous cave lined with iron cages, built right into the rocky walls and also lit by blue magefire torches.
They were empty of any beasts, though all of them were full of objects: barrels and old buckets, bags of grain and extra saddles that looked too worn to be of much use.
It was a glorified storage bay … save for the last cage.
The one with Kinlear Laroux standing before it.
It was the largest of them all, big enough to hold several war eagles inside, and she could see a dark shape in the corner of the cage behind him.
The raphon pup.
‘Ah!’ Kinlear turned as they arrived and limped across the dark stone floors to greet them, the rap of his cane echoing with each step. He coughed once before he stopped in front of her, grinning from ear to ear. ‘Our brave Raphonminder is here!’
Bastard, Ezer thought as she glared at him.
It felt wrong, being here. Like she was a prisoner walking to her death. And in this dark wing of the Aviary, there was not a single source of natural light.
She felt trapped.
Like a bird inside a cage.
‘Shall we begin?’ Kinlear asked.
Ezer wasn't sure why, but she glanced back at Arawn. He nodded curtly.
‘Good,’ Kinlear said. ‘Come along then. And Brother? You’re free to go. Work with the younglings until you prove yourself again.’
Arawn stiffened beside her.
If she wasn’t terrified, she’d have been more curious.
Her heart rate hastened as Kinlear reached for the cell gate. Her feet felt leaden as she approached.
The hinges screeched as he unlocked it and swung it open.
She expected the raphon to leap from the cage.
To tear out her throat.
But the raphon didn’t even move a muscle. She could barely see it, could barely decipher its legs from its head and wings, with how curled up it was in the corner of its cell.
But she’d always known the youngest creatures to be the most unpredictable.
Please help me, she thought to the wind. I don’t want to die like this.
Kinlear stared at her expectantly as she stood at the threshold. Like he was just waiting for her to dive in. She glanced back to find Arawn had stayed. He was still there, a steady presence in the background, and suddenly she felt no ire for him.
The sight of his calm face was a relief.
‘We’ll use the Long Day to our advantage, send the raphon across while the darksouls are incapable of coming out beneath the sunlight. Seeing as this is less than two months away, and we’re pressed for time …’ Kinlear shrugged as he looked inside the cage. ‘It’s best to just jump right in.’
She felt his hand on the small of her back.
And before she could stop him, he shoved her inside the cage.
She was frozen.
Utterly frozen in shock, in rage, for here she was, her back pressed against the cold bars, while the twin princes stood safe and sound on the other side.
‘You bastard,’ she hissed, as she whirled to face Kinlear.
She pushed on the gate, but he’d latched it shut.
She was too weak, too small …