The Deathless. Peter Newman

they did, each step a sailing bound, bobbing beneath him as they raced towards the outer wall. When they reached it, the hunters threw themselves over the edge, trusting to their wings and the essence that rose up from far, far below. For directly beneath them was a great split in the rock, a chasm that led into fathomless depths. The sides of the chasm were grey and so smooth they were almost soft to touch, like stone worked by years of sand and sea. From it, currents of essence rose, oddly coloured wisps of purple and yellow that slowly bled transparent as they mixed with the air. It was these currents that held the castle in the sky, like a giant cork riding gentle, invisible waves.

      As the hunters passed over the lip of the wall, the ethereal currents swept them upwards, allowing them to glide in Vasin’s wake.

      This was one of his favourite parts of the hunt, before the dive, where the world was spread out below. The floating castle was picked out by the rising red light of Wrath’s Tear, its chain bridge a flopping tongue that reached down to Mount Ragged and the deep path gouged into its side. But the base of the mountain was mist-shrouded, hidden beneath trees that carpeted everything as far as the eye could see and beyond: the Wild. Monsters and nightmares, tricksters and demons lurked beneath that twisted canopy; all desperate to get their hooks into the unwary.

      He could feel the lift starting to fade from his wings and banked to the right, making a slow circle on the edge of the castle’s essence currents. The hunters followed his lead, all eyes alert for the signal.

      A cry went up from Vasin’s right and he saw Mia, a young hunter, pointing. Following the angle of her arm, he was able to see the glimmer of light winking from the trees far below. It irritated him that the first spot was not his but he let it go. There would be more than enough glory to go round by the time this was done.

      He raised his spear high, then let the point fall forward as he started his dive.

      Away from the chasm, the essence currents were weaker and harder to manage. Enough to glide down but not enough to give lift. The Wild itself was a web of invisible essence but only the most skilled gliders could navigate it for long. The trick of the hunt was to drive the quarry towards the edge of a Godroad before putting down, otherwise the hunters could easily find themselves lost and overwhelmed.

      As they descended on the first tribute, they could see the light was moving quickly through the trees, bouncing and flickering as it flitted under the canopy: something was making them run. This was to be expected, as each tribute was cut before they set off, the combination of blood and light designed to lure any demons from their hiding places as quickly as possible.

      Another cry went out from the hunters. The second tribute had been spotted. Vasin frowned as he located them. They had become separated from the first and were moving deeper, their light flickering off to his left. The second tribute was not going as fast as the first, suggesting they were not under immediate threat, but Vasin was sure that would soon change.

      He considered his options. The sensible thing to do would be to lead the hunters after the first tribute. They would surely lose the second but would maximize their chance of saving the first and killing the beast that pursued them cleanly.

      However, this hunt did not need just to be successful, it needed to be perfect. The second tribute was nearly beyond the reach of his hunters but he could still get to them if he went immediately.

      The thought made his wings nudge that way, as if the part of him that had seeped into the armour over the years, the better, bolder part, already knew what had to be done and was just waiting for him to catch up.

      ‘Mia,’ he called out. Hoping that his voice would carry over the winds. ‘You have the hunt.’ He pointed to the light of the first tribute and the dark shape glimpsed behind it. ‘Go!’

      Whether or not she heard his words, she saw the way his spear pointed and read his intent, leading the hunters down in a sharp dive.

      As they sped away, he banked left, doing everything he could to maintain his height. Still, it was not long before the greens and browns of the trees were racing only a few feet from his chest.

      The canopy was thick here and he lost sight of the second tribute’s light, but it did not trouble him. In his mind he could still picture it, his imagination mapping its progress where his eyes could not.

      This deep into the Wild, the gaps between the trees were few and far between, and it was a delicate choice to decide when to drop to ground level. Too soon and he would have to chase the tribute on foot, too long and he would crash into the branches.

      One gap passed him, and through it, he was rewarded with a glimpse of a torch, another, and he could just see the outline of the one holding it. To his surprise, they’d stopped moving.

      He dived into the next gap without thinking, submerging himself in the dark of the woods. The sudden stealing of the light left him blind for a second but he twisted and turned with the wind, instincts guiding him between the trunks as lesser branches clawed at his armour.

      Three times his Sky-legs touched the ground, absorbing momentum until he could skid to a halt on the fourth.

      Without the roar of the winds, the silence was abrupt, shocking. Vasin turned on the spot in the direction of the tribute’s torch, to find it was coming slowly towards him. An outline of a cloak, and a hood. Vasin’s eyes were still adjusting but he could tell the tribute was an adult.

      A little of the red sunslight fingered its way through the trees above, coming in slender shafts in the space between them.

      ‘You have called and we have answered,’ he said. ‘Fear not, for you are under the protection of the Sapphire Everlasting.’

      The figure stopped to laugh, a bitter and oddly familiar sound. The torch went out and the tribute threw it to land, smoking, at his feet, the damp grass hissing in protest against its heat.

      Vasin raised his spear in readiness, glancing about for signs of others. He could see no one else, though in that moment he wasn’t sure who this favoured.

      ‘Who are you?’

      The figure moved closer and Vasin’s throat tightened, his body knowing and reacting to the truth before his mind could grasp it.

      ‘Oh my sweet one, do I pass so quickly from memory?’

      She pulled back the hood. Her dark skin had paled a little, and there was a scar on her cheek he did not recognize. Sorrow had marked her eyes and put new lines around her mouth but there was no doubt who she was.

      Ashamed, Vasin lowered the spear and cast his helmet aside. ‘Mother?’

      ‘Always,’ she replied, stepping into the space where his spearpoint had just been.

       CHAPTER TWO

      It was quiet as Chandni hurried along the castle halls and she hated it. Most of the inhabitants were in their beds, asleep or fretting for the future, and Captain Dil had pulled the guards back to the Rebirthing Chamber. It made the place seem deserted. Normally the castle moved to a beat she knew, everything and everyone in its right place. On special days, like those of a hunt, the beat changed, but it was still one that was known. This was the first rebirth to take place in her lifetime, and the strangeness of it put her on edge.

      By now her summons would have reached Captain Dil and she imagined he’d be unhappily making his way to her room. She was determined to get there before he did.

      Chandni only paused by Honoured Vessel Kareem’s door. The room was empty now and would never be filled by his presence again. The young man had already been taken away for the rebirthing ceremony. Either he would prove to be worthy for Lord Rochant Sapphire’s soul, or something else would come through and make an abomination. Kareem would die in the morning, that was certain. Only the manner of his death remained to be decided.

      She’d miss the man’s quiet confidence, and the dash of humour lurking behind