with reaching out is that it leaves the animage vulnerable. If they aren’t completely focused, the chatter of other animals can slip in by mistake, weakening the connection to the first and making it difficult to maintain control.
And if the animage has shadow magic as well? Then it’s not just animal minds the person has to worry about.
Before Veronyka knew what was happening, Tristan’s thoughts began to infiltrate her mental barriers.
She was experiencing them through Wind—or at least that’s how she perceived it. She was only hearing his interactions with the animal, not the full scope of his mind.
These weren’t projected feelings, like the odd snatches of words and fragmented feelings that the other apprentices unconsciously released into the air. Veronyka had somehow become intertwined in the passageway that Tristan had established between him and Wind. She knew she should pull back—she hadn’t meant to eavesdrop like this—and yet she didn’t.
It was oddly thrilling to actively use the magic she’d spent her whole life fighting against—even though she didn’t really know what she was doing. But after a moment of confusion, a haze of muddled feelings and extraneous thoughts, she found the thread of his interactions with Wind. He was sending out waves of compliments and praise, of encouragement and promises to be kind. She even discerned the words “xe xie.”
Tristan spoke to the horse the same way that she would to one of her own animal friends—not forcefully or imperiously, but with kindness and respect. She was surprised, given his explosive temper and haughty attitude toward her. Just as Veronyka’s impression of him rose, the commander came up behind him, and the nature of his unspoken words changed. They turned hard, firm, and authoritative.
Wind bucked back abruptly, and Veronyka found herself ejected from his thoughts and disconnected from Tristan as well.
She frowned. One minute he was being kind, the next, dominating.
After the commander moved on, Tristan’s stiff posture relaxed, and Veronyka assumed that firm control must be what they taught them here, even though she had never found it effective. Gaining an animal’s permanent respect versus its immediate obedience had always seemed the smarter way to go. Val had never agreed, and neither, it seemed, did the commander.
Tristan notified Jana of his selection, then joined the rest of the apprentices who had chosen their horses and were now adjusting weapons and strapping on their gear.
The boy named Anders was to go first, and as he mounted up and called a hound and a pigeon, the rest of the apprentices gathered in a group to observe his run, their own horses waiting safely inside the paddock until their name was called.
Veronyka watched, breath caught in her throat, as Anders prepared to start the course. He silently called his phoenix, who appeared from the depths of the Eyrie, where the rest of the bondmates awaited their summons.
The boy’s phoenix was half the size of the commander’s, and so too was his performance. His horse kicked and reared, his hound bayed and leapt for the rabbits more than once, and his messenger pigeon took flight near the beginning and never returned. His phoenix behaved correctly, as far as Veronyka could tell, and when the commander demanded to know where the second patrol was, Anders’s answer—relayed from the phoenix—seemed to please him.
At the end, his bondmate came to land gracefully in front of him, and while the horse started, it refrained from unseating its rider. The others clapped as he dismounted, shouting words of encouragement as Anders’s narrow shoulders sagged in relief.
Eight more went through their paces, with similar levels of success. The multitasking was clearly very difficult, and while each shone in their own way—some at archery or jumping, others with the hound, the pigeon, or both—none were able to master it all. Veronyka itched to try it herself.
Tristan was last. The other apprentices, done tending their horses, stood to watch. It was clear by the focused attention of the other boys and the commander that great things were expected of him. Even the stablehands watched eagerly.
Tristan easily outshone the others. Wind fought against his control—Veronyka could sense it—but ultimately the horse obeyed, completing the circuit without rearing or kicking out. The hound and pigeon also behaved correctly, making Tristan’s run almost flawless.
Almost.
Nearing his triumphant finish, Tristan called down his phoenix, the largest of the apprentice mounts, who flapped his wings and burst into dazzling flame. Everyone stiffened in surprise—except the commander, who watched without reaction or emotion.