Untitled s4, p.1
Untitled S4, page 1
For my brothers, Alex and Hugo, who showed me that love soars through our skies just as easily as it crosses our oceans
Prologue
A RIDER GALLOPED HER WILD UNICORN through a deserted graveyard.
The girl was more skull than skin, the unicorn more skeleton than flesh.
They passed unseen like the tormented ghosts of those buried beneath the trees—unmoved by the crackle of an air-allied leaf or the whisper of a seaweed-strewn trunk.
Woodland creatures sheltered from their anger under earth-allied roots.
Each blaze of blood-red leaves dulled at the depths of their bitterness.
They reached a tree—as white and smooth as their own bones.
Goshawk’s Fury rested her nose against the carved bark that read:
BLOOD-MOON’S EQUINOX—
DIED IN BATTLE—CHAOS CUP
Kenna Everhart ran her fingers over the letters of her mother’s name.
ERIKA EVERHART—DIED—MIRROR CLIFFS
Kenna pulled a knife from her belt and attacked the spirit tree with a feral cry.
White whittled bark fell like summer snow until MIRROR CLIFFS had been obliterated and DIED had been overlaid with…
MURDERED.
She allowed herself one more howl of grief before mounting her wild unicorn.
It was enough now. Erika’s body was not here. Had never been here.
And Kenna had work to do.
As Goshawk carried her under the colorful trees, Kenna rode on faster.
This place was an elemental memorial to a bond she did not have.
Kenna was allied to all five elements. And Goshawk would live forever.
No.
They must both live forever.
Only two things interested the Weaver’s successor now.
Revenge. And immortality.
For Kenna Everhart would never feel powerless again.
CHAPTER ONE The Earth Festival
Skandar Smith watched the rays of the setting sun dance through the Eyrie’s armored trees. From the doorway of the treehouse he shared with his three best friends, he could hear the familiar chaos of them attempting to leave for the Earth Festival on time.
“Bobby! You haven’t even got your jacket on yet!” Flo Shekoni cried in despair.
A thump as Bobby Bruna’s boots landed on the metal floor. “I refuse to change until the very last second—green just isn’t my color.”
“Yes, and yellow matches your sunny personality so perfectly,” Mitchell Henderson said sarcastically.
“There’s no need for that,” Flo scolded, and Skandar suspected that Bobby had made a rude gesture at Mitchell. “I know you prefer the air season, Bobby, but we do need to leave now, or we’ll miss the festival altogether.”
“Why do you care so much?” Bobby grumbled. “You hate crowds.”
“Flaming fireballs,” Mitchell cursed. “I forgot about the rip in this jacket. You can practically see my whole shoulder!”
“You can wear my jacket,” Bobby said innocently. “I’ll keep my yellow one on—”
“Mitchell Henderson, if you let her give you that green jacket, I will—”
“Ooh, go on, Flo!” Bobby whooped, and then there was laughter and running footsteps.
Smiling to himself, Skandar finally turned round in the doorway. “Oi! We’re Rookies now—practically fully trained, fully grown unicorn riders.” He stepped inside the treehouse, narrowly dodging Flo, who was chasing after Bobby, who was hurtling after Mitchell. “If you carry on like this, I might find myself some more mature friends. Branch out a bit.”
Flo, Bobby, and Mitchell stopped dead, looked at each other, and then… ran at Skandar and tackled him onto the pile of beanbags, hooting with laugher.
“I hate to break it to you, spirit boy,” Bobby cackled. “But nobody else would have you.”
Skandar sighed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to put up with you three, then.” And for one blissful moment, lying on the colorful beanbags surrounded by his friends, Skandar could almost pretend that he was fine.
Eventually, after much swapping and repairing of jackets, the quartet were riding through the crowded streets of Fourpoint. Skandar and Scoundrel’s Luck had Bobby and Falcon’s Wrath on their left, Mitchell and Red Night’s Delight on their right, and Flo and Silver Blade shining ahead of them, among the sea of green-clad Islanders making their way toward Element Square.
“Is this festival actually going to be any fun?” Bobby asked.
“What do you mean?” Flo spoke over her shoulder as Blade stormed ahead. The silver unicorn seemed to be as worried as his rider that they might be late.
“Well… earth wielders aren’t exactly known for being party people. If it was the air festival—”
“Bobby, will you please stop complaining about the season changing?” Mitchell said, Red’s wings colliding with Scoundrel’s as they squeezed through the narrow street.
Flo looked a bit offended. “It’s not that we don’t like parties. It’s just more effort for us than for air wielders. You could turn any situation into a party.”
“Aww, thanks, Flo!” Bobby said, genuinely touched.
Mitchell chuckled. “Yes, I bet Bobby could even turn a burial into a party—”
Flo shook her head at Mitchell, as Bobby raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry, Skandar.” Mitchell sounded horrified. “I didn’t think. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s fine,” Skandar said. “Really, I’m all right.” He’d been saying this since June, and he knew nobody believed him, but sometimes he wished his quartet would stop focusing on the fact that his mum had died, his sister had betrayed him, and his aunt was on the run. It was why he longed for moments when they were all just silly together, and also why Skandar looked forward to letters from Dad.
Robert Smith was still writing to his son about how proud he’d been watching the Air Trial at the end of Fledgling year. He knew nothing about the terrible events that had followed the race. So when Skandar wrote back, he could pretend he was living an ordinary life at the Eyrie with his sister. He could imagine that the story he was making up for Dad was true.
“I mean, this looks like rather a good party to me,” Mitchell said, attempting a return to normal conversation as they arrived at Element Square.
It was the first Earth Festival Skandar had managed to attend, and he’d never seen the square quite so beautiful. The earth wielders had grown a knee-high wildflower meadow across the whole area—colorful blooms bursting through the long grass—which seemed somehow resistant to the trampling of hundreds of unicorn hooves. The whole place smelled fragrant and fresh, and the stalls dotted round were just as strikingly earth-allied. Some were cavelike, filled with gems, where customers could choose precious stones and have them made into jewelry, while other stalls boasted soil-filled beds with flowers or vegetables ready to be picked right from the soil and roasted. And there were, as usual, activities to keep restless riders and unicorns amused—a tug-of-war with flowering vines, an obstacle course involving giant magnets, and a sand modeling competition. Skandar could already see a replica Hatchery, complete with perfectly round door.
Listening to the cheerful chatter of the festivalgoers, Skandar felt a twinge of jealousy. How could nothing have changed for them, when only a few weeks ago his whole world had been irreversibly altered? Erika Everhart—spirit’s dark friend, the Island’s greatest enemy, the Weaver—was dead. But no matter how many names she’d been given, she’d been Skandar’s mum, too, and losing her hurt more than he’d thought it would. Even after everything she’d done to the Island. To his sister. With his sister.
The quartet dismounted—even Bobby looked awed—and they looked round. Skandar pushed away his dark thoughts. He was just about to ask whether anyone wanted to share a sizzling tub of roasted potatoes when three Eyrie riders approached.
Skandar recognized them all. Marcus, on his unicorn, Sandstorm’s Orbit, had been chosen as the new squadron leader of the Peregrine Society, the Eyrie’s elite flying squad. Marcus was flanked by Patrick, a fellow Grin, on Hurricane Hoax, and—bizarrely—Bobby’s younger sister, Isabel Bruna, riding her brand-new unicorn Tsunami’s Herald.
It was easy to tell that Bobby and Isa were related. They had the same severe brown bangs, the same olive skin. But Isa wore her hair long, trapped neatly in two braids, and her eyes were bigger and brighter, as though constantly surprised by whatever trouble she’d started. And where Falcon was slate gray, Herald was as white as snow.
“Isa!” Bobby hissed. “What are you doing at the Earth Festival? Hatchlings aren’t allowed!” Skandar had never heard Bobby sound so like Flo in his life.
Isa tutted. “Wrong as usual, hermana. The Commodore changed the rules.”
“Oh.” Bobby looked taken aback but turned her attention to Marcus and Patrick instead. “Okay, new question. Why are two Preds hanging around with a Hatchling?”
“We’re not hanging around with her,” Patrick protested, his mutated hair sticking up as though freshly electrocuted. “She won’t stop following us.”
“Harsh but accurate,” Isa said, patting Herald’s neck.
“Isa—” Bobby started, but then she breathed in deeply as though trying to calm herself. Flo looked on approvingly; she’d been encouraging Bobby to turn over a new leaf with her sister now that Isa was on the Island. The trouble, as Skandar had realized the moment Isa had arrived, was that Bobby’s sister was really, really annoying.
“I’m looking for a Rookie,” Squadron Lea
Nobody had.
“Is everything all right?” Flo asked.
“I’m not sure,” Marcus said, his face creased with concern. “Elias had a lot of friends declared nomads after the Chaos Trials. Instructor Webb hasn’t seen him for days. The instructor’s worried.”
“He’ll turn up, mate,” Patrick said reassuringly. “Then we can go back to discussing how you betrayed me and chose Fen as your flight lieutenant.”
Marcus groaned good-naturedly as they said goodbye and moved to the next group of Eyrie riders. Bobby managed to grab Herald’s reins before Isa could follow them.
“How about some sister bonding time?” Bobby asked in an enormous effort to be nice. “We could visit one of the gemstone caves? How about something blue for your element?”
Isa rolled her eyes. Skandar wondered which sister had started the habit.
Stomach rumbling, Skandar turned to Flo and Mitchell, but Mitchell was already riding Red toward a group of blacksmiths listening to a bard singing about the coming harvest.
“I said I’d meet… I’m just going to see if Jamie…” Mitchell’s voice was swallowed up by the festival crowd as he went in search of his boyfriend.
“Potatoes?” Skandar asked Flo, and she nodded enthusiastically, the silver in her Afro flashing.
As, they started to queue, Skandar saw Rex Manning nearby, surrounded by other members of the Silver Circle. A shiver went down Skandar’s spine when he spotted Nina Kazama’s mood ring on the Commodore’s pale white finger. Rex had shown his true colors back on the summer solstice, when he imprisoned any spirit wielder he could lay his hands on. The other Eyrie instructors had protected Skandar, but he worried about how long Rex would allow that to last.
He turned to Flo. “Why isn’t anyone investigating Nina’s death? I’m sure Rex killed her. How can they let a murderer be Commodore? Has Rex said anything to you? About Nina? About me? About Agatha? About what his plans are for the spirit element once—”
As quick as a lightning attack, Flo placed her fingers to his lips and Scoundrel growled. “Skar, you have to stop this,” she said, ignoring the black unicorn. “There’s no evidence that Rex killed Nina.”
“Apart from the fact that he’s wearing her ring?”
Flo shook her head. “There could be so many reasons for that. Maybe it’s out of respect. Weren’t they in the Peregrine Society together?”
“Yes, but—”
“I don’t trust Rex either, okay? Not after he tried to arrest you and Agatha. But I really don’t think he’s a murderer. And he’s no more prejudiced against the spirit element than most people on this Island. Remember how he saved us from his father at the end of Nestling year? And he still has Dorian locked in the prison, apparently.” She swallowed. “He’s a complicated person, I think. I’ve heard rumors within the Silver Circle that he didn’t have an easy time of it growing up.”
Skandar grunted in disbelief. “Well, I’m not exactly having an easy time growing up either. And I haven’t killed anyone!”
Flo sighed. “I don’t believe he’s as bad as all that. I think he’ll keep Aspen’s word and bring spirit wielders back if you make it to the end of your training. He keeps promises, Skar. I think he just wants the Island to be safe, that’s all.”
Skandar didn’t want to keep arguing. Flo always believed the best of everyone—he loved that about her—but he was convinced Rex Manning was one of the most dangerous people he’d ever met.
“We’re starting Rookie training in a few weeks,” Flo said, smiling at Skandar in that way that made him forget where he was. “Enjoy what’s happening now, rather than worrying.”
Skandar shrugged, knowing she was also talking about Kenna. He’d noticed Flo paying close attention to him over the last month. Perhaps she’d guessed how he kept going over and over the events from June: Kenna’s betrayal, her attempt to forge a new generation of riders, and—worst of all—the moment she’d killed Agatha’s unicorn, Arctic Swansong.
“Take it from someone who knows,” Flo continued. “Worrying doesn’t help. What flavor do you want?” She pointed to the sign above the kiosk.
Underneath the words Rita’s Rollicking Roasties were various decisions that customers had to make before ordering their potatoes: crispiness—from doughy to jaw-crunching; saltiness—from sprinkle to seawater; and finally flavor, of which there were at least twenty—everything from rosemary to lemon to beef to chocolate.
“Do you think chocolate and roasted potatoes taste good together?” Skandar wondered.
“Only one way to find out.” Flo winked at him and kneeled down by the wooden planter, searching for a potato hidden within its soil.
Skandar was about to join her when he noticed something odd about the statues at the center of Element Square. The lightning bolt, waves, and flames were all their usual concrete gray, but the jagged rock for earth was painted with a long white stripe down its center.
Skandar’s heart beat wildly, his quickening breaths loud in his ears. As panic flooded his senses, the happy chatter of the emerald crowd faded to a low hum. Was painting the statue part of the festival? Surely not. Surely the organizers would have realized the panic it would cause. It looked exactly like that mark. Her mark.
“Flo?” Skandar said, voice shaking.
She looked up at him, alert. They’d been through so much together—she knew fear when she heard it in his voice.
“Please tell me the earth statue’s been like that the whole time.” Skandar pointed at the rock. “Tell me it’s someone’s idea of a really bad joke.”
Flo stood to look. “It wasn’t like that a few minutes ago, Skar.”
Without another word she scrambled up onto Blade’s back. Skandar mounted Scoundrel, who sent a pulse of calm through the bond, sensing his rider’s unease.
Others were starting to notice the statue now—some pointing, others staring in disbelief, as worry rippled across Element Square.
Within seconds, Falcon and Herald emerged from the sea of festivalgoers and stopped by Blade and Scoundrel. Skandar was relieved to see Mitchell approaching too, with Jamie sprinting alongside Red through the wildflower meadow. Scoundrel shrieked, as though urging his fiery best friend to hurry up.
“I don’t understand,” Isa said as the quartet moved their unicorns into a defensive circle, shielding Tsunami’s Herald within them. “It’s just paint on a statue. Why is everyone—”
“It’s the Weaver’s sign.” Bobby’s voice was tense. “Like the stripe she had down her face. Like a spirit unicorn’s blaze.”
“But isn’t the Weaver dead? The Islanders in my quartet told me that Commodore Manning killed her!” Isa insisted.
“He didn’t kill her,” Skandar growled. “But yes, she’s dead. I saw her die.”
Isa stayed silent.
“Who would do this?” Jamie sounded angry.
“I can think of someone,” Mitchell said, glancing in Skandar’s direction.
“But she wouldn’t try anything, would she?” Flo said softly. “It’s too risky. Too many sentinels, silvers everywhere. The entire Council of Seven is here. And the Commodore.”
Then, all across Element Square, unicorns began to collapse.
Riders yelled in shock as they were thrown from their unicorns’ backs. Distress flares exploded from the saddles of earth-allied sentinels as they were unseated, filling the square with green smoke. Islanders screamed as unicorns that had been flying over the festival plummeted to the ground, plowing through stalls and sand sculptures. Sandstorm’s Orbit fell on top of a gem cave and it collapsed, spewing colorful jewels as Squadron Leader Marcus pulled himself from the wreckage.
Scoundrel bellowed in confusion as he and Skandar watched stone-haired Gabriel leaning over the light gray body of Queen’s Price, pleading with her to wake up.
Aisha was calling to Dagger’s Emerald over and over, the flowers in her hair wilting with anguish. Freya was pulling at Earth-Bound Raptor’s mane in floods of tears. Panicking, Skandar jerked his gaze back toward Marcus, where Orbit was lying on a sea of gemstones.
“It’s the earth wielders,” Mitchell cried. “It’s only affecting earth unicorns!”
