She and the rest of the stablehands guided the horses in a single line—ten of them total—through the village and out to the pastures beyond the wall, near the steps down to the way station. The horses had been purchased from a breeder in the Foothills who specialized in crossing the elegant Stellan bloodlines of the valley with sturdier mountain horses.
A series of barrels, stones, and other objects had been set up in the open space before the village, and standing off to the side were Tristan and the rest of the apprentices. The moment his gaze landed on Veronyka, he scowled, but his expression shifted at the sight of the horses behind her. The muscles in his jaw clenched while he and the rest of the apprentices shifted and craned their necks, trying to get a better look. A mixed wave of emotions rose up from their group, their excitement, fear, and dread hitting Veronyka like waves lapping at a pier. She’d been keeping her mind guarded ever since her run-in with Morra, but still, spikes of heightened feeling managed to push through her defenses.
There was a makeshift paddock set up, where Veronyka and the other stablehands led the horses and left them to wait. A pack of hunting hounds was already inside, weaving through the horses’ legs as they ambled through the tall grass, and a cage of messenger pigeons had been placed on a barrel. Glancing around, Veronyka saw Jana hide a crate of rabbits into the cover of the nearby bushes. What was going on?
A few moments later the commander appeared at the village gates, leading his dappled horse, Cotton, toward the apprentices. A hush fell over the group when he arrived, and in the ensuing silence, the commander explained the rather bizarre exercise that had been set up.
If Riders needed to fly out on an overnight journey—or travel a long distance—they would often have an accompanying land party with pack animals and extra supplies. The phoenixes needed to rest, and so did the Riders, so such provisions were necessary. They also occasionally scouted from horseback, allowing them to travel to more heavily populated areas, with their phoenixes reporting from the safety of the sky. As animages, they needed to be masters of more than just their bonded animals—they needed to be masters of every beast in their service, including messenger birds and even the dogs that served them in the hunt.
“Horse mastery,” the commander continued, “has been an integral part of Rider training for centuries. As warriors of the highest sort, Riders were trained in warfare both on land and in the sky. While most of you are competent on horseback, none of you have practiced control of all your animals simultaneously.”
Veronyka’s ears perked up—finally she was going to see some real magic at work. Thus far, from what she’d glimpsed, the commander’s training program seemed to focus on honing their skills as warriors over their abilities as animages. The sight had left her disheartened, as she had no weapons or combat experience. If ever she was to join their ranks, she’d be at a major disadvantage. Veronyka’s single best skill was her use of magic, and she was eager to see how she would measure up.
“The horse of a Phoenix Rider must be comfortable in the presence of not only his rider, but whatever other beasts his master requires—including, of course, his phoenix. This is not an easy task and will take weeks of training and discipline, starting now.”
A gust of warm wind rippled through Veronyka’s hair, and a phoenix landed on the ground in front of them.
It was the commander’s mount, Maximian. He must have been circling high above them all this time or perched on one of the jagged spears of rock just out of sight. Though Veronyka had already seen him close up, the first time had been in the crowded clearing on the mountainside. Now, in the wide open, she was free to appreciate his magnificence. This wasn’t a juvenile like Xephyra had been, still small enough for Veronyka to hold in her arms. This was a full-grown phoenix, just as majestic on foot in the morning sunlight as soaring through the night sky on wings of fire. His plumage held more variations of red than Veronyka had ever seen in her life, each feather shimmering and jewel-bright, with fiery orange and brilliant yellow tipping his crest and long tail feathers. The phoenix’s rib cage was