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If a tortoise is challenged by a hare, it should select a battle of patience as its chosen contest. I am the tortoise. Rohan the hare. We played at patience. He is no silly bunny, though, and he seeks a new game.

Now my Gryphon Guard suffer ambushes in the skies. No longer can they range in small bands, to raid as they will between charging their cores. Great birds, and their riders, descend upon them. These beasts are cousins to the gryphons and the chamrosh, or so Rufus believes, but who rides them is a mystery.

We know little of this new foe’s origin, or their motives. But they take no risks, attack only when the odds are in their favour. They have the feel of mercenaries, in that regard. We have tried to send envoys, to outbid my erstwhile nemesis, though we know not where they are. None have returned.

So it is a new game. With Rufus’s gryphons forced to travel in teams of ten or more, and wary of venturing too far, I must choose between food, or my raids.

For now, I choose the former. We persevere.

J ai watched the sun rise, breathing in the morning air. The steppe was an amalgam of scents, changing throughout the day. This was perhaps his favourite time, when the dew beaded, and the air was fresh and verdant.

His sleep was out of sorts, and he had woken in the early hours, having slept through the rest of yesterday. He’d spent much of the morning soulbreathing, recovering what mana he could.

He wished he had more, so he could practise the shield spell, but he had none to spare. Even the dozen hours spent curled against Winter’s belly in the small tent he had moved to had yielded only a tenth of a full core.

But he could not wait much longer. Every day was another the Gryphon Guard rampaged through the Great Steppe, slaughtering the innocent. And Erica needed him. If he could meet the Caelite tribe, under his protected status as an unrited, he might be able to purchase her freedom. And if he had to steal her himself, all alone... it might be a feat of sufficient daring to pass his Rite.

Of course, he knew he could send out his army to range the mountainside, attempt to make contact. But he knew this was their territory – they’d disappear, and his chance would be gone forever.

Before leaving, he’d asked the guards to wake his Small Council at first horn, and bring them to see him off. He wanted no suspicions of cheating on his Rite, and wished for them to see him begin his quest alone.

He was brushing out Navi’s coat before they set off. She was the only khiro Jai trusted, after his fall with Baal, and Feng had been kind enough to offer her use. Navi was sure of foot, and after all her years of hauling wagons up and down the Kashmere Road, her stamina was legendary despite her age. Certainly, she’d had no trouble keeping up with Chak, when he and Feng had ridden out together.

The old doe was shuddering beneath his touch, and though he was sure his technique was rough, she appeared to be enjoying the attention.

She seemed a little sad too, and Jai knew she must miss Chak. Hell, he missed the old bull too. Still, Navi seemed to have made a new friend. Another doe was nudging his behind, eager for her own brushing. He sighed as a wet nose once again dragged up his shirt, cold against his back, and gave Navi one last scratch.

He turned to the other, and was surprised to find a khiro even older than Navi. In fact, it was so old now he saw it up close, Jai could hardly believe she had not yet been sacrificed to feed the tribe. The aged beast was nearly entirely grey, its eyes so deep in wrinkles that he had to lower himself to look into them.

They were deep and black, fixed upon him with an intensity that forced him to stare. To his surprise, the beast pressed closer, gently pressing its snout to his forehead. It was a strange moment, but one Jai relished. It was rare for a khiro to hold another’s gaze, and was a sign of a deep trust.

What he’d done to earn it in the elderly beast’s eyes, he had no idea. Perhaps its good nature was what had kept it from the chopping block.

‘I see you’ve met Samara,’ Meera’s voice called.

Jai jumped, for the old lady had crept up on him. There the memory keeper stood, a world-weary disciple supporting her arm.

He turned to stare at the old beast. Of course. That was why she was still around. She was Meera’s soulbound beast, inherited from Balbir.

‘She remembers you,’ Meera said, shuffling closer.

‘I’ve never met her...’ Jai uttered, reaching out a hand. The beast rested her snout in his hand, and Jai saw a tear running down the beast’s face.

‘She knows she has,’ Meera said gently, reaching out to brush the tear away. ‘I feel it.’

Jai felt tears spring to his own eyes, and he let them run freely. This was all that was left of Balbir. He remembered her end. Magnus. Titus. Her ragged corpse, lying without her dear face.

‘They say,’ Meera said, her voice soft, ‘that for soulbound, a piece of those gone remains, if their other survives. Sometimes, I think I can hear her voice. As if I listen just hard enough... I might...’

She trailed off, and moved closer to her soulbound beast, pressing herself against Samara’s side.

‘Soon enough, our time too will pass,’ she said. ‘All we can do is keep the memory alive, yes?’

Jai nodded.

‘So you teach your disciples our people’s history?’ Jai asked. ‘So it’s not forgotten?’

She nodded.

‘Whether they like it or not,’ she said, the joke weak in the sombre shroud that had fallen.

He wanted to ask more. His father, he knew, had been a secretive man. But surely Meera knew more than most.

‘Then let this be taught,’ Jai said, an idea coming to him. ‘Here, take this.’

He fished the tattered diary from his satchel, and handed it to her. She peered at it closely.

‘Feng will help translate it while I’m away,’ Jai said.

‘Pah,’ she spat dismissively. ‘The boy has other priorities. Twice I’ve sent my disciples to him, to record the happenings. He refused us – too focused on the future to think of the past. My acolyte can speak the language, for she was once a fettered in the provinces. She will do.’

I’ll need to change that when I get back , Jai thought.

She paused, seeing the proffered mess of pages, loosely bound by string and glue.

‘What is this?’

‘Leonid’s diary,’ Jai said. ‘Of his wars against my father – you have to look carefully, for it is mixed with his field notes, and other administrative papers. I dare not take it with me before it is recorded, for I don’t know if I’ll return.’

‘You will.’

‘Then I will want it back.’

Meera clutched the diary close to her chest, thanking him in a surprisingly soft voice.

‘I will treasure it, my khan,’ she said, breathless. ‘And remember its contents.’

There were hurried footsteps behind them, as Feng, Harleen, Sindri and most of the Small Council approached. Winter let off a low growl, as if she could sense the impending argument.

‘Sire,’ Feng said. ‘I still think this is folly. There are few wild khiroi this far north, and the Caelite hunt the area by your own account. At least let us send some of our riteless with you. There are a few young men and women among us now that have not yet passed the Rite. You’re allowed to work together.’

Jai shook his head.

‘I will not drag others into this,’ he said. ‘Let them pass their Rite where the khiroi are plentiful for them to capture, and our enemies do not surround us.’

‘All the more reason to stay,’ Harleen urged. ‘There is time yet.’

But Jai could see that many others held their tongues, looking at Jai with expectant eyes. Every one of them had gone through this Rite, in the flower of their own youths. Hell, many would have been younger than him. Despite all he had achieved, he knew that he would not be true khan in their eyes, until this was done.

‘Are you sure I can borrow Navi?’ Jai asked of Feng. ‘We are used to each other, and she makes up with experience what she lacks in speed.’

Feng sighed in defeat.

‘It would be my honour, my khan,’ he said.

***

HE HAD NEVER SEEN Winter so happy. To be alone with him once more, riding out into the unknown. The dragon was leaping through the grass, chirring contentedly, and occasionally rubbing herself against Navi’s side.

Jai smiled, allowing himself this brief moment of peace before the storm. Because he knew the storm was coming.

He had a plan, of sorts. Having extracted all the Small Council and indeed Meera knew of the Caelite the day before, he was fairly sure they honoured the Pact. After all, the traders of the Great Steppe did not live in fear of dark shadows flitting from high above to raid and steal their belongings. At least, not until they met the Gryphon Guard.

So he hoped he was safe if he rode alone. Still, as Navi trudged through the tall grass, Jai found his eyes darting to the sky, trusting the old doe to avoid any traps in the light of day.

They were headed back to Baal’s corpse, if there was any of it left. Jai knew that was his best chance of finding the Caelite, and seeking a trade with them without waiting two more weeks. By then, the area would be stripped of all food, and the tribe would have to move on.

Even without Erica in the mix, having read the latest passage from Leonid’s diary, he knew he would need to meet with them eventually. Clearly, his father had made some sort of alliance with them. Jai wished to follow in those footsteps.

It did not take long for Jai to reach the pit. Indeed, Winter led him straight there, her tail lashing back and forth as she ploughed ahead of them. Jai knew her sense of smell was far better than his own.

The grass surrounding the pit had been flattened, and there was blood everywhere. Worst of all, a giant pile of guts steamed in the sun, the thousands of flies swarming it, twitching and lifting with the breeze. The stench was overwhelming, such that Jai could hardly smell anything else.

Even Winter was confused, her nostrils filled with the metal of blood, and the ammonium of rot. The pit had been reset too, the stakes fresh sharpened and fire hardened, the walls repaired and a thin layer of woven reed covered fresh clumps of grass. Lifting its edge with care, he could see the shallow puddle at the pit’s bottom, and the red that stained the mortar.

So Jai looked to the ground. There were claw marks, in the ground, not dissimilar from Winter’s own. But they were smaller, and thinner. Terror birds.

He followed their direction as best he could, and after a few false starts, found the beginnings of what looked like a path. Jai cursed the speed of the grass’s return, for whatever wound the terror birds’ trail had wrought on the land was fast healing, leaving only a broken stem here, a leaning tuft there to mark their route.

Still, after a minute, the stench had cleared, and Winter had picked up their scent. Jai could almost taste the echo down the thin umbilical cord of soul that bound them. That same birdcage scent remembered from when he’d had to clean the bedding of Leonid’s pet finches. Fainter now, but there.

‘That’s right, girl.’ Jai grinned as Winter yipped and picked up her pace. ‘Let’s see where they headed.’

She was hunting now, and Jai smiled as he remembered watching her tumble about the woods, seeking out squirrels. How far they had come, in but a single season. She was growing fast, and Jai dreamed of flying with her, high in the skies where he could see the edges of the world.

But she made a poor mount. He had seen how close the Caelite had come to them when they had given chase. The terror birds were faster than Winter in the grass, not to mention the fast-healing bruises upon his chest – no time to make a saddle that would sit amid her horns. Navi would have to be his ride for now – she would outpace anything that was not on the wing, or another younger khiro.

Winter yawped, her tail standing on end. Now she had picked up the scent in earnest. Jai let Navi take the reins, following her old companion more or less the direction they had come, but taking a wide arc around the far reaches of the Kidaran camp.

Headed back, towards the mountains.

Soon enough, they were tearing over the grassland at high speed, and Jai’s heart was in his mouth, for he knew more traps might be near. But Winter could not be slowed, and Jai was relieved when they finally fell into the shadow of the mountains, where the grass was shorter, and the going tough as turf turned to rock and rubble.

Now Jai could see the scratches in the rock, where the three toes of the terror birds had made their marks there. They were on the right track; he was sure of it. Even if Winter had slowed, and was leading them in circles, her nose whipping to and fro as she snuffled at the ground.

So it was some surprise to Jai when Winter halted at a sheer cliff face. She snuffled a little longer, before sitting at its base, staring up at the enormous structure.

Jai crouched beside her, noting the claw marks in the ground, and on the cliff itself. It seemed incredible to him that two-legged birds could climb such a thing. But sure enough, the tell-tale tri-clawed marks were there, going all the way up the side of the mountain, concentrated around the small, rocky outcrops that studded the face of the cliff.

Winter let out a low rumble, her wings unfurling. Jai could feel her gathering herself as she leaned back on her haunches. Then she launched herself up the side of the cliff, her great wings flapping.

She made it a stone’s throw up before her claws lost purchase, and she slid back down. Winter let out a yap of annoyance, flapping her wings a few more times. Close, but not quite there.

He could feel her frustration, and it mirrored his own. He had hoped to find the Caelite and begin negotiations. Instead, it seemed he had reached a dead end.

Jai sighed and dismounted, staring up the cliff face. He would camp out nearby, and hope for their return. With any luck, he could catch them on their descent.

JAI HUDDLED CLOSER TO Winter, resting his back against the furry hump that was Navi, the loyal khiro dozing on her side.

It may have been spring, but the nights on the steppe were still bitterly cold on occasion, and tonight was one of them. And Jai dared not start a fire, not with the grey rock to reflect the light, and let the steppe know he was there.

It had been two days now. Two days soulbreathing, true, but they were days he could hardly spare. For while he languished here, Erica’s ransom could be on its way, or indeed the Kidara ranged further afield for food. Soon enough, they would have to move on, following the spine of the mountains east as instructed, leaving Jai the hard task of catching up to them.

Already, the sloping wall was furrowed with the markings of Winter’s claws, who had, in her boredom, decided that this was the perfect time to attempt flight.

Of course, she could quite easily climb ahead, following the path of the terror birds, one Jai had mapped out as far as he could see. But she wanted to fly unaided, not leave him alone in the grasslands. Indeed, after Jai’s near miss in the pit, she had been glued to his side. Not that he minded it at all.

Jai lay in the dim light, staring at the stars. Somewhere up there, the Mother was looking down upon him. He could feel her, in the soil, in the grass. He had never been religious, for he knew the so-called god emperors too well to believe in the Sabine pantheon that Leonid was now a part of.

He felt a stir, though, now that he was at home with his people. Having seen the thanks offered to the Mother, he had never felt closer to belief in a greater power. There was a pulse, in this ancient land. He could sense it, when he let the half-trance take him – in the eddies of the dusty currents, swirling to an unknown force.

And then... he saw it. Not the Mother, but a flicker across the clouds. Dark shapes, hardly visible but for his soulbound eyes. A burst of mana, carefully meted out from his precious supply, gave him a brief glimpse of a V shape before they were out of sight.

A flock of geese, perhaps. But in his heart of hearts, he knew they were the Caelite. This was no hunting ground, far from their camp. For now, at least, he could assume there were still some there, camping near the mountaintops.

Winter, oblivious to what he had seen, stirred at the excitement that pulsed through him. He calmed her with a stroke, and breathed deep. His mind was made up. Tomorrow, he would make the climb.