Erin limped out of the front gates and paused to study the slowly rising tower some distance away. For some reason, the labourers were working day and night to do their work, in all weathers and by lantern light.

  She was sure that hadn’t been the original intention; but whatever the reason, it meant that the preparation of the ground they had been doing had finished early and the tower was rising rapidly. Though, according to Mathias, that would slow as the tower began to rise.

  At thought of him, her brow furrowed, and her lips twisted. In the few days she had been mobile, she had spent them walking beyond the wall as she built her strength. A daily walk that had often included a trip out to the build site and an awkward conversation with the often-surly wizard.

  She had made more progress in improving her walking than she had with finding a way through the high walls that he had built around himself, but she was determined to keep trying.

  Whether he liked it or not.

  The other person whose attitude she intended to change, stomped out of the gate behind her. Her expression was sour and her eyes dark, as she stomped after Erin, carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle.

  “Well?” Mary said. “What now?”

  “Follow me.”

  Erin didn’t let the other girl’s attitude bother her and led the way slowly towards the practice ground. Her movements were slow, and every step sent a jolt of pain up her thigh when she placed her weight on her left leg, but she had finally been able to ditch the crutches, and she wasn’t going to go back to them.

  Because it meant she would soon be allowed to fly!

  “Why are we even here?” Mary asked, grumpily. “We should be getting ready for tonight.”

  “There’s time.” Erin’s eyes flicked up to trace the suns passage across the sky and shivered.

  Tonight, would be the sixth night since she’d been injured, and since the Shadowbeasts had yet to appear, it meant they would come tonight.

  Bright wouldn’t be allowed to fly, which also meant neither could she. So, instead they would have to sit out the night like all the other settlers, huddled in fear.

  Erin’s hand went to the flintlock pistol holstered on her hip.

  But she wouldn’t be defenceless.

  Though she might as well be if she didn’t improve her aim, she conceded with a grimace. It was why she was headed to the practice grounds.

  Once there, she sat on the downed log and directed Mary to set up the targets on the stumps. The other girl did so with little enthusiasm and placed a small round of wood atop each of the five stumps.

  She retreated to the log and set down the cloth bundle as Erin pushed herself up. Wiping sweat from her face, brought on by the exertion and the day’s heat, she hobbled over to stand a good twenty yards away from the targets.

  Pulling out the pistol, she extended her arm, taking careful aim, finger curling around the trigger.

  Crack!

  Wood chips exploded from the top of the nearest stump as her shot grazed the wood yet missed the target. She coughed as the light breeze blew the smoke from the barrel across her face and wafted her hand in the air.

  “You’ll need to do better,” Mary called out.

  “Harder than it looks,” Erin conceded.

  She reloaded, the tip of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on the task. She spilt a little powder into the frizzen and then took careful aim. Remembering the wizard’s words, she exhaled as she squeezed the trigger.

  “Well done,” Mary grunted as the shot caught the targets edge and sent it spinning away. “You’ve wounded it.”

  “Can you do better?” Erin asked, irritably.

  “Of course.”

  “Prove it.”

  Mary rolled her shoulders back and rose, crossing to where Erin stood with a smirk. She held out her hand for the reloaded pistol and Erin passed it over before taking a careful two steps back to stand behind the other girl.

  Raising her arm, Mary took careful aim along the barrel.

  Crack!

  The second target was thrown backwards, the shot taking it dead centre. Mary lowered the weapon and turned to look back at Erin, a smile playing on her lips.

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  “See.”

  “Fine,” Erin muttered, holding her hand out for the pistol. “You can shoot better than me.”

  “You close your eyes.”

  “Huh?” Erin looked up from reloading. “What do you mean?”

  “Just as you pull the trigger.” Mary held out her arm and mimed shooting, squeezing her eyes shut as she did so. “Like that. When you close them, your arm moves, and you miss.”

  Erin blinked. She hadn’t realised she did that. Hadn’t even noticed. Her brow furrowed as she turned and raised the loaded pistol, extending her arm and sighting down the barrel. She exhaled as she squeezed the trigger and squealed as she hit the target just off-centre.

  “See,” Mary said, shrugging. “Don’t close your eyes.”

  “Thank you.” Erin stepped over to the girl and pulled her into an awkward, one-armed hug. Mary stiffened and after a moment, Erin released her, smiling apologetically. “Sorry.”

  “S’fine,” Mary muttered. She moved across to the cloth bundle and carefully unwrapped it. “I’m a better shot with this.”

  Erin craned her neck, looking over and smiling.

  A musket lay on the cloth, around five feet in length from butt to muzzle-almost as tall as Mary herself. The stock was made of a dark, polished walnut, worn smooth from years of use. Its barrel was iron, blackened by age and use.

  There was a simple flintlock firing system, and at the muzzle, a small fitting where a triangular-bladed bayonet could be attached.

  “It’s beautiful,” Erin said admiring the weapon. “Where did you get it?”

  “Was my da’s,” Mary said, lifting the rifle and setting it butt down on the cloth. “Brought it home from the war with, Iben.”

  “He fought in that?” Erin’s eyebrows rose, showing her surprise. “Did he fight with, him?”

  Mary’s expression turned sorrowful as she shook her head. “He never would tell me. When I asked,” she said. “About the war and about, him, he always went very quiet and sent me to my room.”

  She was silent for a moment, eyes tracing the lines of the musket, memories stirred from long ago.

  “Once,” she admitted. “I found him weeping. He was lost in his cups, and when I asked him why he wept, he just said one word.”

  “What? Erin asked, leaning forward eagerly.

  “Bloodcrow.”

  Erin sucked in a breath, eyes widening.

  He was a legend, and a terror. The Queen’s Mage. The man who burned Castelmara and Vidoz. The tales told by bards of his deeds during the war were legendary and it was said that even the queen feared the monster he became, so much so that she banished him from Ratan.

  Erin could well remember listening to the tales of the old men as they drank wine before the fire long after she’d gone to sleep. Whenever the talk of war came up, he was always mentioned, and everyone had a tale of their own about him.

  Those tales had both scared, and enraptured the young girl, huddled on the stairs in the dark as she listened. Feeling the rush of excitement at the thrill of doing what she was not supposed to be doing.

  Her little rebellion.

  A smile came to her face at the memory, and she looked over at Mary who was busy loading the musket. Whatever small opening there had been in that barrier between them had closed back up and it was with a sadness that Erin held her tongue.

  “Watch,” Mary said, sniffing and lifting her nose.

  She strode away, standing almost fifty yards from the targets before she raised the musket to her shoulder. Standing, with her back straight, the musket held rigid, she sighted along the barrel before she pulled the trigger.

  Snap-boom!

  A target was thrown away from the stump with the force of the shot hitting it. With barely a pause to acknowledge it, she lowered the musket and poured black powder down the barrel. Holding it with one hand, she dropped in a lead musket ball wrapped in paper and rammed it down firmly with a metal ramrod.

  She primed the pan with a little extra powder and cocked the hammer back before lifting it to her shoulder once again.

  Snap-boom! Again, and another target fell.

  The whole process had taken twenty seconds or more, and Erin shook her head in pleased surprise. Mary reloaded and fired with the long-practised skill of a seasoned musket man, and Erin was sure she would shoot as easily from the back of a gryphon as she did standing still on the ground.

  Which gave her an idea.

  She watched Mary reload and fire again, taking out the last target as she pondered that first stirrings of an idea, working at it until it bloomed into a plan of action that she could take. Something that would help her, as well as Mary.

  And perhaps mend some of the ill will the other girl held for her.

  “We should head back,” Erin called, and Mary looked around.

  “So soon?” She looked up at the sky. “There’s time yet?”

  “No.” A shake of her head was all Erin could supply. It was too soon to suggest her idea and would need to be done in secret. “Lady Sarah will be readying to fly. We had best help.”

  That soured Mary’s expression and without another word she marched across to the log and carefully wrapped her musket, before standing and waiting for Erin’s slower walk back to where she waited.

  Together they walked back to town in a silence far from companionable, each lost in their own thoughts. As they passed through the gates, already there were signs of the populace readying for the nights attack.

  Shutters were being closed and locked, while dogs and cats were hustled into the houses. The farm families were coming in from the fields, whole families heading inside the walls and taking shelter in the houses of those who lived in the settlement proper.

  There was a bustling energy about the place that spoke of fear, though controlled, and not quite panic yet… but close.

  The soldiers were already on the walls, eating flatbread and meat, their faces solemn. They had lost friends aplenty, and they knew that tonight would be no different.

  Old Man Uric and twenty-seven sailors came marching down the street from the grounded ship. Their expressions grim, their resolve clear. They would stand, and they would fight, for that was the command given by their captain, a man one step below the queen in authority in their eyes, and a short step at that.

  Officer Letterford walked alongside them, distant but still part of the column. His left hand was bandaged, and his walk stiff, but still he came. Undaunted and resolute.

  Why, Erin didn’t know or understand.

  It was not their fight, and she had assumed all their energies would be spent on repairing the ship and readying to leave the cursed island.

  With a shake of her head, she trudged on towards the roost.

  Bright was grounded, still not ready to fly, and in Lady Sarah’s opinion, neither was Erin. So, instead, Erin had decided she would spend the night with him. Guarding him and protecting the roost should any Shadowbeast make it over the walls.

  A shiver ran through her at the thought.

  The last she had faced had been when she was trapped beneath her wounded companion. She could well remember the fear and helplessness she had felt.

  Her hand brushed the pistol on her belt.

  Well, tonight it would be different.