Valley of the Wind Riders by John Beechem

This is a preview of an upcoming young adult (YA) fantasy novel by John Beechem, Valley of the Wind Riders. It’s a book written for children to be enjoyed by all! These three chapters introduce Petyr and Bianca, Wind Riders, small, magical people who have bonded with birds and ride on their backs. During their initiation, a powerful artifact is stolen from their village. Together, they embark on a quest to recover this artifact and learn its truth. Along the way, they meet valuable allies, wicked wizards, terrifying monsters, tall giants (who are a lot like you and me) and all kinds of adventure...

Chapter 1 Feather-head

“Get to work, kid. You’ll be in the sky soon enough.”

“You really think so?” Petyr asked, his eyes lit by a smile.

“Only if I’m lucky,” Griff grunted. He shuffled away as Petyr pushed a clump of down feathers into a small pile.

Petyr’s Rites of Initiation were only a few days away. If he would succeed, that meant he would become a Wind Rider, and spend his days soaring above the Urth. He would fight enemies of the fae, hunt for food, and search the realm for treasure and adventure. But if he failed, the village would not accept him as a Wind Rider, and his elders would find another role for him to fill. Something more mundane. One that might involve a broom, pick or shovel instead of a sword and shield.

That won’t happen, Petyr told himself. I’ll earn my feathers one way or another. He’d been preparing for his rites ever since he was a little boy. Petyr knew the names of every bird that lived near his village, knew how they flew, the kinds of food they liked, where they put their nests, and when they were active. He knew what their eggs looked like. Even the names of all the great Riders were etched into his mind, since he’d begged the Story Master to tell him their legends over and over.

What still formed a doubt inside his mind was that for all his knowledge, if he wasn’t fast enough, clever enough, and tough enough to show at least one bird that he was worthy, he’d have his feet stuck to the ground until the end of his days. It was enough to make him feel sick.

“Hey, feather-head,” a voice spoke, interrupting Petyr's thoughts. “This is for your boss.”

Petyr looked up to see a girl about his age holding a scroll out to him. It was a piece of parchment, rolled up and sealed with a red wax stamp.

“My name's Petyr,” he told her, taking the scroll in his hand. He leaned his broom against one of the thick wooden posts. “I'm going to be a Wind Rider soon, so you ought to speak to me with some respect.”

The girl picked out a fluffy down-feather that had gotten caught in Petyr's scruffy brown mane. She had blonde, braided hair, and green eyes that sparkled with mischief. Her a face was as round and pink as a peach. “I'm paid to be efficient, not courteous.” She blew the small white feather from the palm of her hand and it landed on the tip of Petyr's nose. “And I have other deliveries to make.” With these words, she turned on her heel and walked away from him, a canvas messenger bag swaying from her shoulder as she did.

“Wait! What's your name?” Petyr asked as she left.

“Bianca,” she spoke as she turned her back to him and kept walking. “Now be a good feather-head and get back to your chores, Petyr. And don't forget to give that scroll to your master!”

Petyr watched for a few moments as she went on her way, following the ruts of the mouse-carts along the village’s main road. What a strange girl, Petyr thought as he ran a finger along the scroll. He examined the red seal holding it closed, and saw a capital letter 'A' for Aderyn, the name of his village. It's from the elders, Petyr realized. It must be about the Rites of Initiation.

He knew Griff would scold him if he gave him an unsealed scroll, so he walked over to where his master was standing, making marks with a quill on a parchment he held. “Excuse me, Griff,” Petyr said, “but this came for you.”

“Yes? What is it?” Griff peered over half-moon spectacles, put down his parchment, and snatched the scroll from Petyr's hand. He broke the seal with a flick of his thumbnail, and flattened the scroll as he read.

“What does it say?” Petyr asked, his curiosity piqued by Griff's knitted brow, white beard twitching as he mouthed the words on the scroll.

“Village business,” Griff growled, tucking the scroll into a pocket inside his shirt. “Preparations for tomorrow. Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Now get back to work.”

Petyr nodded, and finished sweeping all the feathers and fluff that fell to the ground. He carried them over to the hearth that led to a chimney rising out of the center of the aviary, and put them in the fire to be burned. It made an awful stink, but it was the easiest way for them to rid themselves of this kind of waste. Then he had to clean up the bird droppings, an even messier job. It was placed into barrels for the farmers outside the village to use for their crops. As disgusting as this job could be, Petyr was so used to it, it no longer bothered him. Better to have a full belly than let all that treasure go to waste, was how Griff put it to him, and he often heard the stable-master’s voice in his mind as he completed this task. It seemed strange to Petyr that the plants ate bird droppings for food, but also quite interesting. He loved to learn new facts like this. Sometimes, they came to him quite by surprise. These facts were much easier for him to remember than where he had put his hat, for example.

The rest of the day passed slowly. Petyr’s mind was full of thoughts about his Rites of Initiation, and he had a strange feeling in his belly. It was hard to figure out if it was a good feeling or a bad feeling. Finally, he decided it was a bit of both. He was nervous and excited at the same time. Petyr still felt this way when he got home, and climbed the rope ladder up into his family’s space in the maple tree.

Petyr’s family shared this tree with a few other fae families, not to mention all of the birds, squirrels and other animals that lived in it too. Parts of the tree had been hollowed out to make room for them, but it didn’t mind. Its spirit had spoken to one of the village priests many generations ago, and had given the fae permission. Most faes lived in trees like this, or in other plants instead. Inside, it was very dark, but fae are able to see even where there isn’t any light. In darkness, people, animals and other things all give off a very dim glow, at least to the eyes of the fae. Fae were very comfortable living in trees, especially Petyr’s family. They loved their maple tree very much.

“Hello, I’m home,” Petyr called out.

“Petyr’s home!” a tiny voice returned. It was June—his little sister. Right now she was scribbling on parchment with a piece of coal.

“Does that mean we can eat?” she asked, putting down her drawing.

“Yes, June,” their dad spoke. “Petyr, come on over and take a seat once you’ve put away your things.” He put out dishes of acorn butter and berries for everyone. There was also a plate of cicada meat on the table for them all to share.

“I’m starved,” Petyr said as he scooped up a bit of acorn butter.

“Not until we’re all seated, Petyr,” Petyr’s mom reminded him. “I know you’re hungry, but that’s no reason to forget your manners.” Petyr’s dad and June sat down too, and his mom nodded at Petyr, letting him know he could begin.

Once they were all settled in, Petyr’s family began speaking around the dinner table. “What kind of bird are you going to chase tomorrow?” June asked.

“You’re not supposed to think like that,” Petyr explained. “If you get your hopes up for a pigeon, but end up riding a sparrow, you might be disappointed. I’ll be happy if I can get any bird at all. Not everyone participating in the Rites will be able to.”

“There’s plenty of work for everyone in the village,” his dad said. “If you find a bird, we’ll be very happy for you. If you don’t, Mother Gaia will find other work for you to do.” Just then, Petyr imagined himself with a lined face and white beard pushing his broom around the aviary. It was not an image that he liked.

“Gaia bless us, I just hope that everyone is safe tomorrow. You’ll make us very proud, Petyr,” his mom told him, “no matter what happens.”

“Is Griff ready?” his dad asked.

“Oh yeah,” Petyr spoke through a mouthful of acorn butter, and then drank some water to speak more clearly. “He’s been through the Rites of Initiation so many times, I can’t even tell if he gets excited for it anymore.”

His mom grinned. “I’m sure he does. He might not show it. But I bet he’s almost as excited as you.”

Petyr chuckled, then remembered something. “A girl came to the aviary today to deliver a message. It was for Griff, and had the village seal on it. She was a rather rude girl, but she told me she was in a rush, and didn’t have time to be polite. Her name was…”it took Petyr a moment to remember, “Bianca! That’s it. Bianca. She had her hair in a long blonde braid. And she called me ‘feather-head’”.

June giggled, and that made Petyr laugh too. “I know Bianca,” June told him. “My teachers told me Bianca used to get in trouble at school. They use her as an example of how not to act.”

“Hmm,” his dad rumbled. “Well, I’m glad you both know how to behave yourselves. Most of the time.” Then he winked at his wife, and they began laughing too.

The family ate the rest of their meal together, and Petyr tried to relax and enjoy himself. He knew that if he got his wings, he might not be able to spend as much time at home as he was used to. When he climbed into bed that night, he still had that nervous feeling in his stomach. So he said a short prayer to Gaia, and that helped a little. Then he heard an owl hoot from somewhere outside the tree. Petyr sighed and fell asleep.

Chapter 2 Beak and Blade


The next morning was cold and rainy. Petyr could hear the rain-drops from inside the tree, fat globs of water hitting the leaves and splashing into puddles. He held a warm bowl of oatmeal his mom had made him, seasoned with honey and cinnamon, full of chopped, dried raisins and little bits of acorn to give him energy. Steam rose in lazy curls. Petyr grasped it and breathed it in as if he could store its warmth inside of him. He ate by himself, and focused his mind on the Rites of Initiation, the trial he was finally ready to face now that the sun had dawned on his twelfth year.

As delicious as his breakfast was, he had trouble finishing it. His stomach was tight and tingly. Every swallow made him feel his nerves slightly more. He took some deep, calming breaths, but they were little help. They eased his mind somewhat, but couldn’t chase the butterflies out of his belly. He knew that he’d be a Wind Rider soon. Or not. And it was the not that was bothering him so much. Gods and Goddesses, let it be so. His bowl was half-eaten, and he left what remained on the kitchen counter.

Once he'd finished his meal, he climbed down the rope ladder, its wet fibers squeezing into his fingerless gloves. Petyr wore a red cloak over a blue tunic, and both were nearly soaked by the time he reached the ground. It’s no matter. If all goes right, I’ll be warm and dry tonight, dancing around a bonfire and singing songs. He would not let his mind consider any other possibilities as he trudged through the woods.

He soon found a few of the other initiates already at their meeting place, a small round hill in the forest near Aderyn. Petyr recognized them. They were other boys and girls his age, and they had grown up in the village together. Their breath came out in clouds of steam, chilled by the wet morning air. Drops of rain fell from their cloaks and pooled at their feet.

Petyr’s eyes met those of another boy, Andrew, and they nodded at each other. Andrew had been one of his best friends at school, but they saw less of each other now that those days were over. He was fidgeting, his fingers twirling the knot of his cloak. Petyr sighed, his anticipation getting the better of him. His cheeks puffed out, and Andrew must have thought this was funny, because he gave Petyr a weak smile. Petyr winked, and for a brief moment a sliver of humor broke through his anxiety. Then Andrew looked away and Petyr did too.

Instead, he rubbed some small wooden beads his mother had given him last year for his birthday. The beads hung off his belt, and had runes carved into them. They were meant to calm him, but perhaps the magic in the runes had worn off, because his guts still felt hot and prickly. It's alright. I need my senses sharp.

Then the first thin rays of sunlight spread through the morning fog. As if parting a curtain, the high priest and priestess of Aderyn appeared, each bearing a wooden staff carved to show a bird's talon clutching an apple. Beneath cloaks of gleaming green mallard feathers, they wore white robes. Each carried a lit torch, hissing steam and smoke in the drizzling rain.

Petyr and the other initiates knelt in the muck on one soggy knee and bowed their heads.

“Greetings to the young and brave,” the high priest spoke.

“Rise, initiates,” the high priestess called to them.

Their white robes make them look like ghosts in the fog. He heard them begin to chant:

On wind and wing
Ye each may soar
Together sing
On every shore


Above every tree
And mountain tall
Your eyes shall see
And take in all

May beak and blade
Flesh and feather
In sun and shade
Be strong together

Let both your souls
Your minds and deeds
Burn like hot coals
The fire feeds

And when your lives
Have run their course
Return together
To Spirit’s Source

When the blessing was finished, the priest and priestess lowered their torches into a silver censer. The censer was a shallow bowl that they used to burn sacred objects. For this ceremony, it contained a lump of coal, twigs for kindling, a small pile of feathers, and a few drops of sweet-smelling oil. This way, the prayers offered in their chant could rise high enough to reach Mother Gaia, and the other gods, goddesses, and spirits that the Fae held sacred. The smoke smelled strange and gave Petyr the urge to rub his nose, but he resisted.

The rhymes the priest and priestess sang reminded Petyr how his soul and mind would have to meld with a bird for him to actually bond with it. He’d had bits of practice with the birds of his aviary and those in the forest surrounding his home. “Please raise your wing” and “Could you leave a few worms in our garden?” Things like that. The feelings they shared were more important than words. But to truly bond with a bird, the bird would need to want to bond with him too. And he’d only have a brief moment to convince them. If the bird rejected him and flew away, it would almost be impossible to find another one before the Rites of Initiation had finished.

But now it was time for him to rise and join the line of other initiates who approached the high priest and high priestess for their final blessing of the ceremony. Each one stood and bowed their heads as the priest and priestess dipped their thumbs into the warm ash. One by one, the initiates received their blessing, the ash rubbed on their forehead in the shape of a feather. Then they stood to the side with their heads bowed until they’d all been smudged between their eyes.

The rain stopped. A strong breeze rushed through the clearing, and the clouds parted, revealing a red and purple sunrise that had finally come. The high priest and high priestess joined their voices and cried, “FLY!”

The initiates scattered into the woods, each running in a different direction. In the weeks leading up to their Rites of Initiation, every one of them had spoken to each other and decided which course to pursue. It would do nobody any good to be stumbling over each other as they searched for a bird to bond with. Instead, they would spread throughout the forest, to improve their chances for success. Gaia, give me wings Petyr prayed as he sped north. In a few minutes, his lungs burned and his legs ached, but he would not slow. Not until he reached his destination.

And suddenly, there it was, towering above him: a great, big holly tree. Its pointed leaves drooped to the ground inviting him up into its branches. Petyr leapt and grabbed onto one of them, pulling it down with his weight. He wriggled himself on top of it and walked toward the trunk as if on a balance beam. Some of the leaves scratched his face, but he ignored them, pushing himself past their needled edges. Finally, he reached its knobby trunk and began to pull himself up. His feet and fingers found holds in each little groove as he pulled himself higher and higher.

As he climbed, Petyr caught a bright streak of red out of the corner of his eye. A cardinal had landed in the holly tree a few branches above him. The bird had not noticed him, so he crept to the other side of the trunk. The challenge was to move slowly enough that the cardinal didn’t see him. But if he was too slow, the cardinal might fly away before Petyr got his chance. A male. Females have brown bodies but red crests and tail feathers. He scanned his eyes for any female cardinals nearby, but couldn’t find any. Good. He kept climbing.

The cardinal minded its own business, eating small seeds from old holly berries still connected to the tree.

Petyr lunged from his perch in the holly tree and wrapped his arms around the cardinal’s chest. The cardinal cried a loud, “SKWAAAAAK!” and flew from the branch to escape what he feared was a predator. Petyr reached out to the birds heart, sending him a feeling through his mind. Calm. Friend. Petyr. This was very hard to do, since Petyr was nervous too. He felt the cardinal give a jolt at his words, and then they flapped clumsily all the way way down. Twigs and feathers flew everywhere. Petyr didn’t let go. He could feel the bird’s fear spilling into him, even the rapid beat of his heart as he held onto him.

Once they hit the ground, Petyr finally released him, hoping the bird wouldn’t immediately fly away. Instead, the cardinal cocked his head and looked at him with a beady black eye. Please. Bond. Friend. Petyr.

For a moment that stretched long and deep, the black eye lingered on him. It felt as if the eye wasn’t merely looking at Petyr, but deep into Petyr. Part of him wanted to hide from this gaze, but he knew he mustn’t. Instead, he stared back, both of his eyes looking back into the cardinal’s right one.

Then the bird scuttled around to the other side, and Petyr feared the cardinal would leave him, but soon realized he was gazing into him with his other eye, the left one. Head still cocked with his crisp red crest pointed back at the holly tree.

Daig, he heard a strange voice in his mind. It sounded like the word “die”. Then he realized it was coming from the cardinal.

Daig?

Daig. Name. Flame.

Daig is your name?

Yes. Then he bowed his head and back.

He wants me to climb on!

Petyr pulled himself onto Daig, gripping him where his body and wings met, perched on the cardinal’s back. It felt natural to him, as if he and Daig had been made to fit together. Almost like they were one being.

Then there was a rustling in the leaves behind them. Squirrels? Petyr wondered.

NO! Daig’s voice flooded his mind. He felt Daig’s fear too, turning his blood to ice.

Petyr glimpsed a cat’s yellow eyes glowed between tall blades of grass. Before he could even think of what to do, she pounced. Her claws reached out, but Daig ran out of the way with Petyr still on his back. He lost the tip of one of his tail feathers as Petyr pulled his blade, a short sword tied to his belt. Then Daig ran even faster, struggling to fly with Petyr’s weight on his back. The ground slowly fell below them, inch by inch. The cat pursued, hissing and screeching.

Petyr and Daig crashed through twigs, leaves, roots and even a few spider webs. The cat they had stumbled upon was still right on their heels. She’d pounced almost without any warning, and wouldn’t give up. Foolish cat, Petyr thought. He knew that he and Daig weren’t easy prey, but cats didn’t always make sense. The chase. The kill. That’s all they think about sometimes. All he could do was hold onto Daig’s chest, grip the bird’s body between his legs, and hope he wasn’t hurting him.

Friend of yours? Petyr heard Daig’s voice in his mind. Already it was getting easier to communicate.

Never met her before in my life. Petyr sent the thought back to Daig. Why are we still so close to the ground? Can’t we fly away?

Behind them, the cat growled and spit as it jumped over a fallen log behind them. She seemed to be getting closer. Three razor sharp claws flashed behind them, but Daig dropped lower to the ground and the claws flew over their heads.

I’d love to fly. I’m not used to the extra weight on my back. It’s hard to get any space to pick up the speed I need to go any higher.

Well, think of something!

I have an idea. Then Petyr felt his weight shift to the left and fell from Daig’s back. His stomach lurched as he tumbled off, so he said a prayer to Gaia to keep him safe, and both of Daig’s talon’s clutched his arms.

What’s going on? Are you going to take me back to your nest and eat me? He looked back at the cat behind them. Now she looked a little lower and further away.

Don’t tempt me. They were pulling further away from the cat, but she wasn’t giving up. Petyr felt helpless—he’d imagined himself riding his bird, not being carried along by him.

Wait! I know this path! You’re leading her back to the village!

Don’t you want to stay alive? We don’t have any other choice. This path has the most space for me to fly. And don’t be fooled by the cat. I think she’s toying with us.

What do you mean?

Before Daig could answer, the cat made another lunge at them. Daig escaped her claws, but was hit by one of the cat’s forearms. He lost his balance in the air and went tumbling to the ground. Petyr rolled alongside him. The ground was more open here, and he realized they were on the edge of Aderyn.

The cat came out into the open. Her fur spiked on her back. Her hackles, Petyr remembered the word.
Nancy, Petyr heard Daig’s voice in his mind. Her name is Nancy. She is well-feared in woods of Aderyn. It was good to bond with you, Petyr. I’m sad our time together will be so short.

No, wait!
He stood before Daig with his short sword pointed at the cat. Nancy flexed her claws and poised to strike.

At that exact moment, Petyr felt a burst of wind and saw a yellow blur move in front of him. He heard wood shatter as Bianca swung a long wooden staff in the path of Nancy’s paw. The cat reared her back paw and licked a spot of blood that had formed where Bianca struck her.

“Run, both of you!” Bianca told him.

“What about you?” Petyr asked as he climbed onto Daig’s back. “We can’t leave you behind!”

“I can take care of myself,” Bianca told him, then turned back to face Nancy.

Daig took a few steps and launched himself into the air, Petyr holding tight onto his back. He tried circling around and diving at Nancy. The cat ducked her head and in that moment a different bird swooped in and picked up Bianca. This bird was a blue jay with a white breast and black crest. She was bigger than Daig.

“Let me go!” Bianca cried. Then the bird dropped her and swooped down to catch Bianca on her back.

“Hang on!” Petyr called. It was hard to be heard in the wind. “She wants to bond with you! Let her.”

Bianca nodded, and held onto the blue jay’s back. Now two birds and two riders were circling Nancy.

A group of villagers had formed on the edge of Aderyn. Petyr could see them whenever Daig turned in their direction. They carried pitchforks, hammers, staffs, and other objects that could be used as weapons. A pair of guards led them, their swords drawn. None of them rushed to their aid. The towns-people preferred to watch this spectacle rather than be involved.

Let them cower, he heard Daig’s voice in his mind. They can’t help us. If they tried, one of them would become cat food after Nancy dragged them into the woods.

What can we do? Petyr asked. How can I help you?

I need you to focus
. Focus all your mental energy on Nancy. Look at that patch of white fur on her chest. When I tell you, imagine a ball of fire leaving the space between your eyes and hitting her right there. Are you ready?

Ready?
Petyr asked.

NOW! Daig screamed in his mind, and Petyr felt a rush of energy come from his body, a wave of heat that cascaded from his whole being. He watched a small ball of fire erupt from Daig’s mouth. It flew right at the white patch of fur on Nancy’s chest. Petyr saw the flame spread for a moment, and then the fire went out. A patch of pink skin was now visible beneath her fur.

“UH-REA-REARGH!” Nancy howled. She sped at both of them and reached out her claws. Daig rolled all the way over in the air and dodged her attack. Petyr felt like he could fall off his bird at any moment, and held on to Daig even tighter. He even held his breath.

Now it was Bianca’s turn. She and the blue jay were flying around Nancy and staying just out of her reach. Then Petyr saw something that amazed him. A sharp icicle flew from the blue jay’s mouth and struck Nancy in the chest, right where her skin was now bare. Nancy swiped her paw at the icicle and it landed on the ground.

But she’s not even a Wind Rider! Petyr exclaimed.

She is now, Daig told him.

She raised her hackles again all the way down to the tip of her tail, which now appeared twice its usual size. Nancy howled and spat, but then turned and fled into the woods to lick her wounds.

The towns-people cheered for Petyr, Bianca and their birds. Their cheers sounded like a gentle roar.

Daig and Petyr ended their flight. Bianca and her blue jay landed next to them. Somehow, she still looked calm. Petyr dropped to the urth, his legs still wobbly. He had never been so happy to stand on solid ground in all his life.