Erin sat gingerly on the deck, shifting her weight with a grimace, searching for a position that didn’t sting. She ignored the laughter of the crew and their knowing looks. There was no way they hadn’t heard her squeals as she’d felt the crack of the belt.

  Still, she had accepted the punishment with good grace, she’d earned it.

  She’d bonded with Brightcrest.

  That thought brought tears unbidden to her eyes, and she twisted her head to look back at the door that led to the chamber where the gryphon slept.

  It was almost unheard of, to bond so quickly. Everything she had been taught told her that it took months of careful work and training before a rider would even attempt to mount a gryphon, and then many weeks more of slowly increasing time in the saddle before a bond would begin to form.

  But somehow, she had managed to win the impressive creature’s trust. Though, she had no idea how.

  Geoffrey stomped past her without a glance, his face set, and his eyes hard. He went into the room beneath the forecastle, where Brightcrest slept, and slammed the door shut behind him.

  Erin watched that door for longer than she should have before she gave up.

  Brightcrest would need tending. He’d taken some minor wounds and had flown free for a short time after months of being confined to that room. He would be restless and eager to fly again, and it was on Geoffrey to ensure that didn’t happen.

  He had ordered Erin to stay away, and she had no choice but to obey.

  The gryphon handler was in a precarious position. He had been contracted to transport the gryphon to the new colony of Rockshore where an apprentice rider was waiting for him. Now, with the gryphon bonded to Erin, there would be hell to pay.

  It would cost him status within the guild and could well ensure he lose the chance to ply his trade. Who could trust a handler with their gryphon, when he allowed one to be bonded by someone who hadn’t trained in the Eyrie!

  Though, Erin knew it wasn’t just that which had angered him. No, she had put herself and the gryphon in danger, and as hard as he could be, Geoffrey cared deeply for the creatures in his charge.

  Erin included.

  With a sigh, she brushed at her eyes. Her one flight had likely been the last she would ever take. Geoffrey wouldn’t let her near Brightcrest again, hoping that when delivered to the waiting riders, they wouldn’t realise it had already been bonded.

  “Chin up, lass,” Old Man Uric said as he coiled a long length of rope in callused hands. “We survived.”

  Barely, Erin thought with a grimace that the crewman took for a smile.

  The bodies had been removed, but the stains remained on the wood, despite the attempts to scrub them away by several members of the crew. The occasional scream sounded from below deck as the surgeon did what he could to save those wounded in the attack.

  Lying along the port rail, seven canvas wrapped bodies were a stark reminder than not everyone had made it. Many more were wounded, and at least one would not work a ship again.

  Those sailors still able, were working on repairs despite their obvious exhaustion. Blood still stained their clothes, and they moved slowly, carefully, knowing haste when weary would lead to accidents and there were too many lost already to risk more.

  The mainmast remained standing, though the topmast and the spar had been too damaged to be of use. They had been removed, and the ships carpenter was standing with Officer Letterford as they discussed how to fix it and get the ship moving again.

  Which would be a while yet, since the mainsail had burned, leaving little of use. There was spare canvas belowdecks and a new sail was being prepared, but they needed the mast fixing before they could raise it.

  Erin sat and listened to the sailors talk, and there was a lot of words and terms she didn’t understand, but she figured out the gist of it. She understood enough to know they were in trouble.

  A cry sounded from across the deck and sailors scattered. Out of a coiled rope sitting on the deck, a leathery creature crawled. It was injured; its left wing held tight to its side, as it hissed and spit at the nearby crewmen.

  The Shrike were vicious, skyborne predators. Creatures of leathery sinew and unceasing hunger. Roughly the size of a small cat, they possessed bodies built for long flights on the void winds that blew between islands.

  Their wings were membranous, akin to those of a bat, stretched taut over elongated finger-like bones. When fully extended, they allowed for a swift, agile movement through the shifting current of the void.

  They had heads that were narrow, elongated, with a flattened snout bristling with needle-like teeth designed for piercing and shredding. The Shrike did not chew their prey-they punctured, rendered, and swallowed in greedy gulps.

  A clawed thumb on each wing joint allowed them to grip onto prey, surfaces or even to tangle with other Shrikes in midair skirmishes. Skin, thick and leathery, offered protection from the cold of the void and enemies alike.

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  Erin had only ever heard tales of them; of a swarm catching a ship enroute between islands. Food was all they thought about, and once they had prey in sight, they would attack without ceasing until their prey was theirs, or they lost so many of their swarm to be vulnerable, which was when they would flee to look for smaller game and rebuild their strength.

  “Filthy creature,” Old Man Uric said.

  He watched as Officer Letterford stalked across the deck, pulling free his sword. The officer hesitated, circling the vicious creature warily. Even wounded, they were dangerous, and Officer Letterford had bandages enough to show evidence of that. He darted in and with one quick thrust, the creature was dead, and Officer Letterford lifted it, still impaled on his blade, and cast it over the side of the ship.

  “Why did you fight?” Erin asked, curiosity overcoming her natural shyness. “Why not hide belowdecks.”

  Old Man Uric spat, lips twisting with distaste. “Can’t hide from the Shrike, lass.” He continued to coil the rope as he spoke, not needing to look at his work as his hands moved in the same way they had countless times before. “They would teat and chew the wood, forcing their way inside.”

  Erin nodded, brow furrowed as she digested that, and then gasped, understanding.

  “If you hid belowdecks, they would come at you from all directions.”

  “Aye, lass,” he agreed. “Better to stand and fight in the open, else the ship would be infested with them.”

  The young apprentice nodded at that, and the sailor continued his work as she considered the other questions she had. Normally, she was far too timid to ask them, but she had flown last night and fought!

  Today she felt she could do anything.

  “Why didn’t they untie the man?” she asked, lifting her chin to the burned mast. “He was left for them.”

  His screams had been terrible, bound and helpless as the Shrike devoured him alive. It was a most horrible death, and one she knew would give her nightmares for weeks.

  Old Man Uric seemed to feel the same and he grunted, spitting again, much to the annoyance of the crewman who was mopping the deck nearby. He frowned at the older man but didn’t comment as she just swept his mop over the deck again.

  “No one cared, lass,” was the only answer the sailor gave.

  “Why?” Erin asked, emboldened by the man’s willingness to answer her.

  Old Man Uric made to spit again but turned it into a cough as he caught the glare of the sailor mopping.

  “Not for me to say.” He grunted and set aside the rope before he picked up another length that had been dumped carelessly on the deck. “Though some might say, he was a thief and got caught with his hand in pockets that weren’t his own.”

  Erin grimaced at that. It would explain the whipping he’d received, which she wasn’t sure he deserved even for that, but he certainly hadn’t deserved death. Someone should have cut him loose and let him fight.

  She sensed that the older sailor wouldn’t agree though and she was hesitant to offend the first person she’d spoken to besides Geoffrey since they’d boarded the ship back in Southpeak. It was nice, she thought, to just speak to someone.

  “How long before we sail again?”

  “We’re still sailing, lass.” Old Man Uric lifted his chin towards the foremast and then turned to do the same to the mizzenmast, that shorter sail on the sterndeck. Both had their sails unfurled, taut with the winds they caught. “Just slow, is all.”

  Erin gaped at the masts, and then her cheeks heated as she blushed crimson. The old sailor laughed as she shook her head, cursing herself for a fool! She should have realised that, though even after months of travel it was hard to tell.

  The ship was held aloft by magics she didn’t understand, and unless the winds were strong, buffeting the ship, there was little to tell they were moving. They were floating in an empty void, with no markings around them to tell if they were moving at all.

  For all she knew, they could be travelling at ten knots, or two.

  She ducked her head, cheeks burning furiously, distracting her from the slowly fading pain of the strap Geoffrey had taken to her behind.

  “Be well, lass,” Old Man Uric said, laughing. “Takes time to learn the feel of a ship.”

  “I guess,” she muttered.

  She left the sailor to his work, her desire for answers quelled by the embarrassment she felt. Erin sat, hunched over, her head in her hands and stared at the deck as she replayed the flight on the grypon, again and again, in her head.

  It had been the greatest moment of her life and one she would remember forever, even if she never had the chance to ride Brightcrest again.

  She looked up as the belowdecks doors opened and watched as the apprentice wizard climbed the stairs wearily. Dark rings circled his eyes, and his skin was pale. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and he wore a neat beard to match.

  The grey robes beneath his cloak were rumpled, with tears made by the claws of a Shrike, and stained with blotches of his blood. He limped when he walked, wincing as he placed his weight on his left leg.

  His gaze swept the deck, pausing as her caught her eyes with his own, a moments hesitation as his eyes narrowed before moving on. Stiff backed, he walked away, across the deck to where Officer Letterford was standing overseeing the repairs.

  “Ey up.”

  She looked up at Old Man Uric’s call. He caught her eye and gestured with a jerk of his head over the starboard rail. Frowning, she followed his direction, looking out of the empty air.

  Or not so empty.

  Her mouth fell open as she caught sight of it, a chunk of rock hanging in empty space. Twice as tall as the ship was long, and three times as wide, it was barren and grey, hanging motionless.

  “The Watcher,” Old Man Uric said, voice low and filled with reverence.

  “What does that mean?” Erin asked, turning to him.

  “It mean’s we’re close to the Wall,” he said.

  Erin gulped, excitement and fear mixing and sticking in her throat.

  The Wall.

  She had heard tales of it ever since she was a young girl sitting around the dinner table with her family. Her older brothers laughing and recounting stories they had heard from men who had heard them from someone else, each story growing in the telling.

  It was a place of danger yet filled with all the wealth of a thousand shattered worlds. It was one of the thirteen wonders, and somewhere she had always wanted to see with her own eyes, to find the truth in all those stories she had heard.

  When she had started her apprenticeship with the gryphon handlers, she had thought that dream would never come true. Not with the risk of war looming close, and every gryphon needed kept close to home.

  Then Geoffrey had been given the task of transporting a gryphon across the void to the very edge of the Wall, and she had begged him to take her with him. He had laughed at her excitement and agreed, promising her hard work alongside her training while she travelled, but it had not deterred her.

  “How close?” she asked, excitement spilling out in her voice. “To the Wall?”

  “A day.” Old Man Uric shrugged. “Perhaps two, if the sails fixed. Twice that if not.”

  Her heart sank for a moment. Four days! It was too much to bear, knowing she was so close, so near.

  She sprang to her feet, soreness forgotten as she rushed away, waving farewell to the old sailor. She had to tell Geoffrey that they were close.

  And she had to see Brightcrest. Spend some time with him before he was handed over and she lost him forever.