Author: Becca Lusher

Indie author, book devourer, writer of words, dreamer of dreams, currently enthralled to dragons with a side order of Things With Wings.
Books, Overworld, Updates

Cover Love

Becca Lusher

ETA: I’ve tweaked them a tiny bit.

I’ve been playing around with covers over the last few days, in between bouts of editing and formatting, and I’ve landed on a few I’m happy with.

First up:

Blazing Dawn Cover 2

Everything seems set for a Friday release, though I do still have a few tweaks to make here and there. One of these days I might even be able to have an advanced release date and preorder links.

Then again, this is me, so probably not. That would mean being organised *gasp*

Anyway, here’s Khennik kin Blazeborn Clan Sunray, swirling about at dawn as is his preferred way of greeting the day. I know he doesn’t stand out too brilliantly, but that’s the problem with having a bronze dragon on this background. Also, since you can’t see him too clearly at thumbnail size anyway, I don’t really mind him blending in a bit.

I always have these grand ideas for covers, but frequently when I come to make them, I find they’re too cluttered and plain horrible looking. I might have gone completely the other way now with the Wingborn series, but I kind of like the new, cleaner style.

Wingborn Cover 2

I’m planning on using the wings to unify all the covers – like this:

Rift Rider Cover 8

I may have to tweak the colours again on this one. I’m not sure if it’s too pink, but since making it more red leaves it pretty overwhelming, on the whole I like it. For now.

Hope the week is treating you all kindly, wherever in the world you may be. I’ll no doubt be back at some point over the next few days to bug you about the dragon book. That is if I ever manage to write a blurb I’m happy with.

So there are these dragons, oh, and don’t forget the giant eagles and humans who fly them, ’cause they’re kind of important. There’s quite a bit of politics, lots of flying, a few sunrises, some fun and games, oh, and danger, and don’t forget the stormy stuff. There might even be a romance or two bubbling in the background. Seriously, what more do you want? A nervous water dragon? I have one of those. A stubborn rock dragon? Yup, that too. How about a grumpy dragon hero and a shy but determined human heroine? And a handful of playful, foolish, flirty Riders. Well, good, ’cause that’s what I’ve got. Want to read?

I’ll keep working on it.

Books, Overworld, Updates, Writing

What Now?

Becca Lusher

So now that Wingborn is complete and fully posted, what happens next?

Well, currently I’m in the middle of formatting my next book, Blazing Dawn, which is set in the same world, but two hundred years before, when dragons still dealt with humans and women hadn’t yet been banned from the Rift Riders. It’s the start of the Dragonlands series, which I was supposed to have published last month, but I got Tour de France distracted – as I do every year – so I’m a little behind with it. I hope to have it out by the weekend, but we shall see, since I still have the cover to finalise, the blurb to write and other little niggly things to take care of.

However, it contains dragons. Real dragons! Grumpy ones, ethereal ones, soggy ones and rock-headed ones. So many dragons. I should probably do some introductory posts about them at some point. I’ll see if I have time.

Once that’s taken care of, I shall be turning my editing attention to Wingborn once more. It’s mostly just typo catching and tidying up, so although it shouldn’t take long, I’m giving myself a few weeks to play with it all. Then I’ll smarten up the cover, format the whole thing and release it for free through Smashwords. I’ll also put it up on Amazon, but I can’t say whether or not they’ll allow it to be free.

Writing-wise, I’ll be working on the follow up to Blazing Dawn, which for the moment is called Storm Rising. 

It seemed like a good idea at the time when I decided to serialise Wingborn. I hadn’t started Blazing Dawn then, and still thought it would prove to be a couple of books at most. Now I realise it’s a series, covering quite a few years, taking up an undefined number of books, and I need to get cracking on writing it before the Wingborn series starts issuing spoilers. There might be a few at the end of the next WB book, but it’s really three and four I’m worried about. (Because that’s how far I’ve already written in the WB series.)

Which means I need more time to write up to these points and make sure I don’t have to change anything in the WB books. Rather than wait until I finish all the Dragonlands books – which could take years – I’ve decided to release both series effectively at the same time. So DL#1 will come out this week, followed by WB#1 before the end of the month. Then I’ll get cracking on DL#2 with the aim of publishing it around winter time. And because it would be cruel to make everyone wait that long for the next WB book, which is already written, I’m going to serialise that one too.

So, if you’ve already finished Wingborn and want to know what happens next, you’ll start finding out at the end of August. I warn you, the cliffhangers in this one are going to be intense. I’ll talk more about it closer to the start.

In short, the answer to the What Happens Now? question is as follows:

  • Blazing Dawn (Dragonlands #1) to come very, very soon.
  • Wingborn (Wingborn #1) ebook version to come over the next few weeks.
  • Rift Riders (Wingborn #2) serial starts August 26th.
  • Storm Rising (Dragonlands #2) around December/January.

 

What does this mean for the Aekhartain?
Well, right now the Aekhs have taken a bit of a back seat. I’m not sure anyone will even notice they’ve gone (if you do, let me know). They’re not gone forever, but for the time being the Overworld has taken control. Maybe at some point I’ll be able to grab some breathing room and unwind with a few tales of jealousy, death, hope and starlight, with some poetry thrown in. For the moment, though, my focus remains elsewhere.

And what about those Regency things you were hinting about a little while ago?
They are definitely on their way. Once I’ve finished messing about with Wingborn, they are my next big editing project. I’m hoping to release the first one in September, but the Olympics and Vuelta might derail me in the meantime. I’ll try not to let them.

So that’s what’s going on with me in an authorial way – busy, busy, busy, but in good directions. I hope everything is going productively and well in your own worlds.

Merry Lammas and Lughnasadh, or Imbolc, to you all!

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 24, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch24.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

So we come to it at last…

IT WAS THE last day of the year and the first fine day for a three-quarter moon. The residents of Aquila – town, citadel and barracks – filled the Lawn and practice fields on both sides of the river. The Riders and students wore their dress uniforms and the townsfolk were in light blue. Each man and woman bore either an armband or a headscarf, woven in black and gold.

Nineteen white paper boats waited on the bank, resting on a blanket so as not to get wet before their time. Each one was covered with ink – messages from friends, families and loved ones – ready to carry the words to Typhaestus’ realm. Beside them rested eight swans, folded from black paper.

Aquila had come to honour their dead.

Deep in the mountain caves, twenty new tombs had been filled; twelve Riders, one miryhl and seven bonded pairs. It was not only the kaz-naghkt who had paid a high price for the attack on Aquila. The burial ceremonies had taken place three days after the battle, but few could crowd under the mountain to pay their respects. So now they remembered them.

Dean Marshall stood on the bank with the priest of Maegla and together they blessed the boats and swans. “There is no higher service to Aquila, the Overworld, Maegla and the Gods than that given by those we remember today,” the dean said, touching Stirla on the shoulder. “Think well of them.”

The burly lieutenant knelt upon the blanket and lifted a black swan. “Go in peace, Miryhl Spiral. May the gods grant you fast winds.” Lowering his hands into the rushing river, he released the swan and picked up a little boat. “Rider Cieryn, bonded of Spiral, may the Gods reunite you in peace. Bright skies, my friend.”

The paper shapes bobbed gently in the water, resting against the screen held by the priest. Steadily Stirla added more swans and boats, murmuring tributes to each of the lost miryhls and men of his flurry. When he stepped back, four boats and two swans jostled in the river, waiting to be released.

Next came Lieutenant Willym, who had lost three pairs and three men. Then Lieutenant Hlen bid farewell to one pair, one miryhl and four men. By now the floating papers were in danger of sinking, but this was not a task that could be rushed.

Lastly came Lyrai, freshly released from the infirmary, pale and still a little weak. He limped on his bad leg and knelt with the help of Stirla. Once he was stable, he waved his friend back and lowered three more boats into the river, speaking each name with a tribute.

Finally, he picked up the last swan and boat. “Miryhl Harrier and Rider Dhenras, be reunited in peace. May the Gods grant you bright sun and clear skies, with the wind at your backs and the clouds beneath you. Aquila is proud.”

Leaning forward, he lowered both hands into the water and sent the papers spinning with a puff of breath. The current jostled them on its rippling swell to join the others against the screen.

“Aquila is proud,” Dean Marshall echoed, and everyone bowed their heads for the final prayer. “Though they are gone, be they never forgotten. For Aquila you died, and at Aquila your memory will live on. We are proud, we are humbled and we thank you. Be at peace, children of Maegla.”

“Be at peace,” the gathering murmured, and beneath the warm sun on the last day of the year, the screen was pulled up to release the boats and swans.

The symbolic flotilla bumped along together, black swans bobbing, paper boats spinning. Beneath the bridge all went dark, then the water roared over the falls and they disappeared from sight.

Gone, but never forgotten.

* * * * *
The End
* * * * *

And there, I am afraid, we leave everyone for the time being. So, please, raise a glass of your favourite beverage, as I say “Thank you” for coming along for the ride. It’s been fun sharing this story with people again, so I hope you’ve enjoyed it.

In a month or so I will be releasing it as an ebook from various retailers – more to come when it happens – and after that I’ll be diving into book 2 (Rift Riders).

For now, I bid you all a very fond farewell, but look forward to seeing you again on August 26th, when Mhysra and co will be back in an action-packed sequel.

Until then, thank you so much for reading.

A Bit of Me, Overworld

The End is Nigh…

Becca Lusher

The final installment of Wingborn will be along later. I know I usually put it up early on a Sunday morning, before I go off romping about on the Moors, but I haven’t quite enough time right now to do everything.

So the end will be up some time this afternoon (it’s only 8:30 am), after I’ve returned from admiring a Bronze Age cairn circle on Dartmoor. ‘Cause that’s what I get up to on nice Sunday mornings, weird or no.

Anyway, hope you’re having a lovely day, and I promise to finish this book off later.

Merry Sunday, everyone!

PS: I’m back and enjoyed myself hugely. This is where I went:

Soussons Circle

Soussons Stone Circle (Bronze Age burial). Where I discovered that in my keenness to recharge my camera last night, I forgot to put the battery back in *facepalm* So I had to make do with my phone instead. It did fairly well.

And since it was right by the road and didn’t take any time to visit and admire, I stopped off at Grimspound on the way back.

Grimspound

Grimspound is a (probable) Bronze Age settlement, thought to be over 3,000 years old, with the remains of twenty-four houses inside it.

And luckily for me today, it also contained these little guys:

Grim ponies 2Grim ponies 1

Just your friendly local herd of Dartmoor ponies, complete with frisky foals. That dark colt in the middle of the bottom photo was particularly bossy, charging around, keeping the other foals in their places, before he realised he’d misplaced his mum – so he then bullied another mare and foal into tracking her down for him. Cute, pesky wee thing.

Anywho, back now, chapter is up and maybe sometime I’ll share more photos of this particular trip.

 

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 24, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch24.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

This is it, the last chapter. What am I going to do with my Fridays now?

Also known as: The One With The Awkward Conversation.

Twenty Four

 13th Thaw

Rain splattered against the windows as Mhysra climbed high inside the eastern citadel. Thaw month was living up to its name and it had been drizzling non-stop for days. Soon even the lake would be free of ice. Pausing to catch her breath after a particularly steep flight of stairs, Mhysra peered out at the drowning world. The river roared along its banks, flooding the Lawn and almost filling the arch of the bridge.

Not that anyone was complaining. Thanks to this downpour, all signs of the recent kaz-naghkt attack had been scoured away. At least on the surface.

Leaving the window, Mhysra walked to the end of the corridor. The ward was almost empty now; the lesser wounded having been discharged, while the worst had expired. It left only fractures, non-fatal wounds and the feverish to languish in the airy room.

Mhysra smiled hesitantly at the healer on duty. “Lieutenant Lyrai sent for me?”

The healer rose from behind his desk, his height all the more impressive for his fragile slenderness. “Oh, you’re that one, are you?” Unsure how to answer, she shrugged and he smiled. “Come along, student, he’s been asking for you. Repeatedly.”

Hurrying after him, she kept her eyes on the healer’s back. It was hard to imagine that this clean, peaceful place had been filled to overflowing just days before, when she and Derrain had dragged Dhori up to get his scratches looked at. There’d been blood everywhere, while men screamed in their beds. Now everything was white and scrubbed; all signs of death firmly out of sight.

The few Riders they passed were sleeping, splinted legs elevated, broken shoulders heavily strapped. The man at the end gargled with every breath, but the healer smiled reassuringly.

“Just a cold. He landed in the river. Luckily he was fished out before he went over the falls.”

She smiled back, shuddering when the healer looked away. While waiting for Dhori to be seen, Derrain and she had held the hands of a Rider whose lungs had sounded like that. His chest wound had turned his uniform black. Yet he’d managed to break Derrain’s thumb when he choked at the end. A junior healer had strapped it up while her master saw to Dhori.

“Here. Special room for the special lieutenant.” The healer grinned as he opened the door.

“I never asked for special treatment,” a gruff voice grumbled from the bed.

“No, but the others did.” The healer winked at Mhysra as he checked Lyrai’s notes, then took the lieutenant’s pulse. “They couldn’t sleep for your fretting. Well, either that or your snoring. I’m not sure which was worse.”

Ignoring him, Lyrai narrowed his eyes at Mhysra. “Here, are you? Took your time.”

The healer poked the lieutenant in the cheek. “Open your mouth so I can check your throat. And don’t take any notice of him, child, the fever has made him grumpy.”

“More than usual?” she quipped, though in truth she was shocked: Lyrai looked terrible. His eyes were bright but underlined by black shadows. His cheeks were feverishly red and his fair hair was sweaty and sticking up at odd angles. His hands trembled when he tugged the blanket up his chest. Thanks to the healer taking more time than necessary to check the lieutenant’s throat, however, all Mhysra’s comment earned was a glare.

“Let’s see that leg,” the healer said, flicking back the blanket over Lyrai’s right thigh.

The lieutenant started protesting about his modesty, choked and ended up coughing instead. After a glance at the angry marks, Mhysra wandered over to the window to inspect the rain. While she traced droplets with her fingertips, the healer spoke softly to Lyrai and left with a cheery goodbye.

Mhysra stayed by the window, knowing what was coming.

“What did you think you were doing?”

“My duty,” she muttered, knowing it was rude not to face him, but it was hard to fight when he looked so ragged.

“Student Mhysra,” he growled, and ended up coughing. In fact he coughed so hard that she almost ran for the healer, until he pointed at the water jug on the nightstand. She poured a glass and held it for him until his hands stopped shaking. He drained the rest himself.

“I shouldn’t have come,” she said, staring at the floor.

“I summoned you,” he rasped. “Several days ago.”

She sighed. “And I came, sir, but it’s hard to be berated by an unconscious man and I didn’t have time to wait for your revival.”

His lips twitched and he pointed to the chair beside the bed. “Sit. You’ve been spending too much time with Stirla.”

She poured him another drink before sitting down. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“It’s not.” He sipped from his glass and scowled. “But it’s mild compared to what I want to say. Now that you’re facing me, student, I would be gratified to know what you thought you were doing. And don’t say your duty,” he snapped, before she could repeat herself. “Your duty is not to get killed. Under the circumstances, which I admit were unusual, your duty was to rouse the citadel – as Derrain did. Your duty was to land and stay safe with the other students. Explain yourself.” The long speech ended in another coughing fit and Mhysra pursed her lips.

“If Cumulo hadn’t fought off the kaz-naghkt above the lake, Derrain would never have raised the alarm. Sir,” she added, knowing her tone was defiant. Not even Captain Myran had reprimanded her. True, he was busy, but he smiled and patted her shoulder whenever they passed in the corridor. In Mhysra’s book that counted as praise, especially from the taciturn captain. Stirla thought she and Cumulo were marvellous and even Willym had kept his opinion to himself.

It was just this man. The one who had been wounded but too stubborn to withdraw.

“That was no excuse to continue fighting once you reached the citadel and more experienced Riders took over the defence. Don’t you realise the risk you posed?” His voice grew so raspy Mhysra could barely understand him. “Your recklessness put not only yourself and Cumulo in danger, but the life of every Rider who may have been injured by your inexperience or in trying to save your life when you made a foolish error.”

“But I didn’t!” she protested furiously. Thanks to his own irresponsible behaviour, he was lucky he hadn’t passed out from blood loss in the middle of the fight, instead of moments after Hurricane had reached the eyries. Thanks to his stubbornness, his injuries hadn’t been treated until the majority of the wounded had been seen to, by which time the puncture marks were infected, resulting in the fever that could have killed him.

And he called her reckless?

“No one was injured or killed because of me. If I remember right, sir, I saved your life.”

The lieutenant shifted uncomfortably and coughed into his fist, murmuring, “I believe you did. Yourself and Dhori. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied primly. “And thank you too. Cumulo and I were in big trouble, until Hurricane’s timely arrival.”

“You’re welcome,” he grumbled. “But that just proves my point. You’re not experienced enough for such a fight. You had no weapons!”

“Well, I wasn’t the one who fell off my miryhl because I’d lost too much blood!” she snapped, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

Lyrai’s face was red, but whether from anger, embarrassment or his fever it was hard to tell. His nostrils flared and he drew himself up, the epitome of affronted aristocratic male. “I am a lieutenant and you are my student. Of the two of us, I believe I have more experience in these matters. Furthermore, I am charged with your education and welfare while you remain at Aquila. When I say you shouldn’t have been out there at least have the grace to acknowledge the truth!” A coughing fit spoiled his speech.

Mhysra further ruined it by pouring him another glass of water and supporting him while he struggled to drink it. “All right,” she murmured, more to calm him than because she agreed. “It was foolish. I didn’t think. Cumulo didn’t think. The citadel was in trouble and we wanted to help. We knew we could fight, so we did. It was pure luck that brought us through unscathed, but there was no harm done in the end. Please, sir, don’t kill yourself berating me.”

Lyrai sank back onto his pillows, lips curved in a wry smile. “Perhaps not,” he agreed. “And no, no harm was done. You fought well. You both did.”

“Have you seen Dhori yet?” she asked, wondering what the lieutenant would say to him.

He frowned, confused. “Why would I?”

Mhysra opened her mouth to point out the obvious, since they were both first-years wading into active combat for the first time. Then scowled. “It’s because I’m a girl, isn’t it?”

The lieutenant glanced away. “Nonsense.”

“Then why haven’t you called Dhori in?”

“I didn’t see him.”

She suspected calling her lieutenant a liar would be insolent, so she gritted her teeth. “You said he helped save your life earlier. It is because I’m a girl. I knew it! I knew it the first day in Nimbys, when I moved Cumulo to the eyries. I saw it in your eyes then and it’s still here now. You probably opposed the proclamation too. You don’t want girls in the Riders. Well, we’re here, sir, and we’re not going away. You’ll just have to get used to it.”

“That has nothing to do with this!” he snapped, coughing hard, but forcing the words out. “I welcomed the proclamation. I was one of its strongest supporters. You’re wrong.” He rolled to his side to cough harder and Mhysra worried that she’d killed him.

When she offered him a drink, he refused, his face almost purple with coughing. The healer rushed in and pulled him upright, ordering Mhysra to fetch more water.

There was just enough left in the pitcher to fill a glass, so she fled on the excuse of refilling it. When she reluctantly returned she was relieved to find the lieutenant propped up against a bank of pillows, his eyes closed, face damp with sweat.

The healer stopped her at the door. “Say your goodbyes, student. I think you’ve both had enough excitement for one day.” He left them with a firm nod, promising to return very soon.

As she placed the jug on the table, Lyrai opened an eye. “It had nothing to do with you being a girl. I was jealous.”

“Of Cue.” She nodded, having worked that out the day she met him. In truth she hadn’t thought badly of him anymore after she’d seen him treat the girls the same as the boys at the selection school. The whole argument was stupid. Why couldn’t he let it go? She hadn’t done any harm and she was in no rush to repeat the experience. Why couldn’t he see that?

“You frightened me,” he murmured, and she blinked. “Admittedly, most of you students frighten me, one way or another. The idea of Corin with a sword or Mouse in unsupervised charge of a miryhl…” Lyrai shuddered and she smiled. He smiled back. “And all right, a little of it is because you’re a girl. I was raised to this life, and one of my first Rider duties is to protect the weak. Women and children first. I have three sisters. It was a shock to see you fighting as one of us.

“I know.” He held up a hand to stop her protests. “I know you have as much right to be here as the boys. More than most, given your test results and the fact that you’re Wingborn. But it’s a big step. It doesn’t mean I don’t want women in the Riders – it can only do us good – but it will take some getting used to. Not only are you female, but you’re my student. I’m supposed to protect -” He coughed, and Mhysra handed him a drink.

“I make that a little hard, I suppose,” she sighed, a little grudgingly. “My aunt encouraged us to be independent, boys and girls. And then there’s Cumulo.” She shook her head. “Hopefully over the next three years we’ll adjust. We girls have to fight sometime, sir, or there’s no point to us being here.”

“I know,” Lyrai agreed. “For what it’s worth, I stand by what I said. And now you’ve reminded me, I’ll say it to Dhori too.”

Mhysra shrugged, not caring whether he did or not. “Dhori looks like a Rider already.”

“Happens,” the lieutenant murmured, yawning. “Rare, but it does happen.”

“If he wasn’t so nice I might hate him.”

Lyrai smiled. “If I was in his year, I probably would.” His eyes drifted closed. “Thank you for coming, Mhysra. Sorry I lost my temper.”

“I’m sorry I lost mine too, sir,” she replied softly, not wanting to wake him. When he said nothing more, she tiptoed towards the door.

Before it closed, he muttered, “Don’t do it again.”

“Finally, something we can agree on.”

He smiled and settled deeper into his pillows. Shaking her head, Mhysra turned and almost walked into the healer.

“Well?”

She glanced back at the lieutenant’s room. “He’s sleeping.”

“Peacefully?”

“He was smiling when I left.”

The healer smiled himself. “Good. Next time he summons you, ignore it please. At least until he’s no longer in my care.”

Saluting, she left him chuckling and headed towards the eyries to tell Cumulo all about it.

Come back on Sunday for The End!
There is more to it than that, I promise. Even I wouldn’t make a whole post just to write The End, hahahahahahah!
No, really, I wouldn’t.
Well, maybe I would, but this chapter isn’t quite finished yet so I’ll have to save it for some other time.

All comments welcome – and if you spot a typo, please let me know.
Thanks for reading!

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 23, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch23.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

One more week to go! *dances*

Er… I mean, the battle continues!

“BOWS!” LIEUTENANT HLEN’S shout made Derrain and the watchers jump. “Fetch your bows. Be of use!”

“Aye, sir!” Greig darted down the stairs, plenty of others following. The rest of the crowd remained at the windows, watching with awe as Riders battled kaz-naghkt overhead. There were bodies in the river, on the Lawn, on top of the eyries and in the courtyards. Feathers drifted down like brown snow and black blood hissed wherever it landed.

The sky was clouding over, but there was already a storm in the valley – a seething mass of leathery bodies, feathers and action. Miryhls screamed, kaz-naghkt screeched, metal rang and voices shouted. No single sound was clear in the noisy whole and all of it was just background noise to the thundering pulse in Derrain’s ears. He’d been out there, had nearly been one of the victims lying broken and bloodied on the ground. The kaz-naghkt had almost caught them.

Now Zephyr fought on alone, having left while he was raising the alarm in the bell tower. Like most of the young miryhls whose students weren’t yet trained, Zephyr had joined a flock to hunt down kaz-naghkt. Teaming up with the nakhound packs, they wove in and out of the Rider pairs, helping wherever they could. It was breathtaking to watch the lethal birds in action, but heart-stopping too. Whenever Derrain lost sight of Zephyr he feared the worst.

What would he do if she was killed? They’d only been together for a few months, but she was already such an important part of his life.

“Here.” Something pressed against his hand and he stared mindlessly at the bow.

“Pick your shots and be careful,” Lieutenant Hlen ordered, pacing back and forth behind the row of students, full of unexpected authority. “Don’t loose if you fear to hit one of ours. We’re here to help. Spread out around the tower. When you’re ready!”

Derrain shook himself and strung the longbow he’d been given. It would have been useless on a miryhl, but for shooting through windows over distance it was perfect. He looked for arrows and found Corin beside him.

She had her own short bow, at which she’d grown even more skilled over the long winter. Smiling, she gestured to the quiver on her back and handed him an arrow. “Let’s take ‘em down.”

He smiled back and shoulder-to-shoulder they faced the window. A kaz-naghkt dropped on a Rider pair right in front of them, its hind claws lashing the miryhl’s back, while its hands and teeth gripped the human.

Derrain and Corin drew, loosed and grabbed fresh arrows in one smooth move.

Corin’s arrow punched through the kaz-naghkt’s temple, Derrain’s through its ribcage, forcing it sideways. The Rider it had been mauling had enough strength to stab it through the chest, before he collapsed across his saddle. His miryhl twisted frantically, keening in distress, trying to see what state its bonded was in. The Rider flopped weakly about, in danger of falling, one side of his saddle straps frayed almost to breaking.

“Down!” Lieutenant Hlen shouted. “Get to the healers!”

The miryhl straightened under the order and glided to the Lawn, where helpers were already dealing with the wounded. Derrain watched them land, then turned back to the fight.

Corin shot again, hitting a kaz-naghkt from behind, but the arrow shattered against the lumpy scales. “Won’t try that again,” she growled, loosing a second arrow into the kaz-naghkt’s wing.

A swarm of missiles from other windows repeated the trick, and the creature screamed as its wings were shredded. It dropped in search of safety, only to be caught by a roving pack of nakhounds. The cute dogs Derrain had played with when visiting Bumble were completely different now. Savage, swift and deadly, they swarmed the kaz-naghkt and stripped it to the bone.

Lieutenant Willym raced past their window, harrying a wounded kaz-naghkt. Stirla led a charge to defend two wounded Riders. Captain Myran circled overhead, calling out orders and holding his own. Captain Fredkhen dashed towards the tower, a wall of kaz-naghkt on his tail.

At the last moment his miryhl lifted, leaving the kaz-naghkt exposed to the archers. All but one fell, riddled with arrows, into the roaring river beneath.

The dark wings of the kaz-naghkt were everywhere, but so were the miryhls. Above Aquila, the Riders were winning. Black blood stained the citadel and the river was clogged with bodies but, despite their superior numbers and the advantage of surprise, the kaz-naghkt were losing.

More high points around the citadel were soon manned by students with bows. Loose miryhls banded with the nakhound packs to scrap with the enemy, and the Riders were left with little to do, except drive the kaz-naghkt towards the defenders.

Every time Derrain wondered if it was right to feel satisfied at the death of a kaz-naghkt, he remembered the stories he’d heard and the villages he’d seen, ravaged by attacks. He remembered the haunted eyes of the children left behind, the nightmares of survivors, the screams of the mutilated and scarred. He remembered Feather Frost and the many lives lost there. Then he pulled another arrow from Corin’s quiver and raised his bow.

“This is for you,” he whispered, piercing another creature through the neck.

* * * * *

MHYSRA CIRCLED THE battle watchfully. They were winning. She’d known that from the moment Hurricane swooped in to save them, but now she could finally see it. The kaz-naghkt swarm was broken. Miryhls outnumbered them two to one, then three, then four.

The remaining creatures fled and she was willing to let them go. So many were dead; what damage could these final few do? It was an empty question, since she had no arrows left and Cumulo was too tired to fight. They could only watch as the last kaz-naghkt were killed or escaped over the craggy mountainside.

Free miryhls swept along the valley and into the town, eager to ensure the enemy was gone. The mounted ones sagged with tiredness, turning to round up the nakhounds. To improve matters it began spitting with rain. Much as Mhysra needed a bath, she’d prefer it to be warm.

Leaning against Cumulo’s back, she sighed. “Let’s go, Cue.”

He didn’t answer, just circled and glided towards the bridge, aiming for a hatch this time.

Murmuring compliments, she removed his tack and rubbed him down, until he shoved her away. “I need a bath,” he rumbled. “And so do you. I’m going to sit in the rain.”

Understanding how he felt, she left him alone and dumped his harness in the tack room where the attendants promised to clean it. She was so tired.

As she half-tumbled down the stairs, she found Derrain waiting for her. “We’re real Riders now,” he greeted, catching her against him.

Resting her head on his chest, she shuddered. “If you’d been a breath later with the alarm -”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, stroking her damp hair. “It’s over. Don’t think about might have beens and could have happeneds. No ifs, no buts. It’s over.”

Sighing, she rubbed soothing circles on his chest. “You did well, Derry.”

His smile was a shadow of its usual self, but she appreciated the effort. “So did you.”

“And you smell.”

This time his grin was pure Derrain. “So do you.” Stepping back, he looked her over and wrapped an arm around her trembling shoulders. “Come on, little warrior, bath time. Then you can sleep for a moon. Did you do anything exciting while you were out there?”

“I almost shot Lyrai,” she said, reliving the heart-stopping horror of the moment when she’d thought he wouldn’t duck and that her arrow hadn’t gone wide enough.

“And I missed a chance at Willym.” He sighed. “Still, it was our first fight. We’ll practise.”

Hearing the hollow note in his voice, despite his efforts to joke, Mhysra patted his chest again. “Practise is what we’re here for,” she reminded him. “One day we won’t even care what we’re shooting.”

“I hope not,” he murmured. “I don’t ever want to get that comfortable with killing.”

Thinking that she didn’t either, she patted him again and leant against him all the way to the bath caverns. “What would I do without you, Derry?” she asked as they shed their coats and boots in the anteroom.

Not looking at her, he meticulously folded his outer clothes and stored them on the shelf. “Thanks to you and Cumulo, you didn’t have to find out today.” After putting his boots with his things, he turned. “I thank Maegla every day that I became your friend, Mhysra, and on days like today She rewards me for it.” Cupping her face between his hands, he kissed her forehead. “Thank you, little sister, for saving my life. And for preserving yours.”

She stared up at him, surprised to see a sheen of tears in his eyes and to find a shimmer in her own. “I’m not ready to die yet. Nor let you either.”

He dropped his hands and smiled. “Glad to hear it.” Grabbing a towel, he flicked her with it. “Now get washed. Just because you’re my friend, doesn’t mean I have to put up with you when you stink.”

~ Next Chapter ~

All comments welcome – and if you spot a typo, please let me know.
Thanks for reading!

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 23, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch23.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Two more chapters to go!

And after the way things ended last Sunday… I’m just going to shut up and let you get on.

Although if you need a refresh, the last line was about grabbing hold of Cumulo’s tail and lunging –

Twenty Three

 STRAIGHT INTO HURRICANE, who caught the kaz-naghkt full in the face with his talons.

“Go!” Lieutenant Lyrai shouted, while the kaz-naghkt screamed.

Freed, Cumulo needed no further urging. There was time for one snatched breath before he folded his wings and entered the darkness beneath the bridge. Mhysra huddled against him, wondering if her heart would ever recover. The shadow seemed to go on and on as they dropped closer to the water, their momentum lost after the kaz-naghkt had grabbed them.

Sunlight blinded her on the other side and air surged beneath Cumulo’s wings again as he banked upwards, swinging back towards the citadel. He flapped hard to lift them over the eyries, now swarming with miryhls and kaz-naghkt. A familiar eagle appeared through the chaos, its wings tipped with silver.

Keeping an eye out for attack, Cumulo glided closer and, when Latinym was directly overhead, Dhori dropped a bow and quiver into Mhysra’s hands.

“Luck!” he called, Latinym already racing back to the fight.

“I think we’ve already had more than our fair share today,” Mhysra muttered, securing the quiver to her saddle before testing the balance of the pre-strung bow. It was perfect. She frowned and wondered how Dhori had managed to bring hers to her. Where had he gotten it?

“The gods can spare us a little more,” Cumulo shouted. “Wake up!”

Blinking, she looked up and found they had company. Three kaz-naghkt screeched down the wind, outpacing the miryhls on their tails. If they got too close, a kaz-naghkt would twist and lash out with its tail. Spotting Cumulo, they grinned and stooped to attack.

Mhysra drew an arrow from her quiver with shaking hands. “Steady,” she called, and Cumulo levelled his wings calmly, as if they faced murderous kaz-naghkt every day.

“Maegla aid me,” she whispered, aimed at the kaz-naghkt on the left and released.

The wind snatched at the arrow, driving it away from the pale chest she’d aimed for and striking the thick muscle beneath the kaz-naghkt’s right wing instead.

Shrieking, the creature curled around the wound, swinging its broad left wing across. The kaz-naghkt next to it lashed out as a leather sail clouted it in the face. Black blood sprayed and the wounded creature fell, injured in both wings. While it could have easily recovered from an arrow wound, there was little it could do with its other wing in tatters.

The kaz-naghkt that had done the damage shook its head, too dizzy from the slap to spot a miryhl dropping on it from above.

As they battled, the final kaz-naghkt continued onwards, flexing its claws. Wings spread, holding steady, Cumulo waited for Mhysra to nock another arrow. Her hands were shaking and it was all she could do to draw. She released too early and cursed when the arrow went harmlessly wide.

“Hold on!” Cumulo warned, and she gripped her bow in one hand and grabbed the saddle with the other as her miryhl dropped.

The kaz-naghkt screamed with glee and swooped after them, wings tucked in tight. It screamed again when Cumulo rolled over, grabbing its torso and face with his thick talons. Claws scrabbled, trying to reach the miryhl’s belly, but Cumulo thrust his legs out, completed his roll and dropped his prey. The body tumbled and struck an outcrop; a black smear on grey granite.

While Mhysra watched it fall, Cumulo took them back to the fight, far more prepared than she for what they faced. “Stay with me,” he called, sensing her distraction.

Her voice failed when she tried to speak, so she licked her lips and took a deep breath. “Always,” she croaked, checking her quiver with shaking hands to make sure none of her arrows had been lost in their tumble. She checked her safety straps were still nice and tight, selected an arrow and shrugged her bow into her hand, ready for whatever came next.

* * * * *

LYRAI PAUSED TO wipe the sweat from his face as Hurricane circled above the battle. His right arm ached. It had been too long since he’d last fought, but this was what he’d trained for, had gotten so good at and been denied when he was grounded. Now he had Hurricane and was a true Rift Rider again – but it had never been like this with Froth.

Hurricane tensed and Lyrai leant against his back, holding his sword close and ready. They needed no words to know what the other would do next or where each wanted to go. This miryhl had been born for him, Lyrai could feel it in every tilt of Hurricane’s wings as he darted between scraps and fell talons-first on the tangle of kaz-naghkt gathered around Stirla.

While his miryhl battled, Lyrai brandished his sword, catching the first kaz-naghkt by surprise as he swept off its tail. Unbalanced, it struggled to turn and was impaled on Stirla’s sword.

Lyrai swung again and again, defending them on all sides while his miryhl fought. Most of the kaz-naghkt fled, seeking easier prey, while the less fortunate were already in Atyrn or Hurricane’s talons.

Another creature banked overhead and dropped towards Lyrai, claws outstretched. Bracing himself, Lyrai raised his sword and swung, slicing through one arm and catching the kaz-naghkt’s other shoulder. Hurricane stuttered at the impact before Lyrai diverted the kaz-naghkt’s weight downwards. It snarled, battered but by no means dead.

Licking its bloodstained lips, it smiled as fresh skin, bone and muscle writhed and crawled out of the severed stump. Knowing what was to come and what he had to do, Lyrai adjusted his grip on his sword and hauled.

Still attached to the lieutenant through its shoulder, the creature keened. Lyrai pulled again, bringing the writhing creature within reach. It sank its claws into his leg and opened its mouth to bite, but the angle of the sword restricted its head and it couldn’t quite reach.

Jerking his knee up, Lyrai shoved the kaz-naghkt off the blade and exposed its chest. Then he struck. His sword cleaved through the exposed flesh with ease, stopping only when it reached the scaled skin on the other side. The whole weapon juddered as the kaz-naghkt’s heart pulsed. Twisting his wrist, Lyrai braced his foot on the creature’s shoulder and pulled his sword free. The kaz-naghkt screamed and dropped into the river.

One less enemy to worry about.

“Are you wounded?” Stirla shouted as Atyrn circled counter to Hurricane.

Lyrai pressed on the puncture wounds in his thigh and cursed, forced to sheath his sword as he shrugged out of one side of his flying jacket. Using his belt knife, he cut through his shirtsleeve and dragged the material off, before pulling his jacket on again. Slicing the sleeve into strips, he bound his thigh, wadding material over the worst of the wound and tying the binding as tight as he could. It wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t going to retire from the field now. Not when they were still needed.

“Lyrai?” Stirla called.

“Fine!” he shouted, patting Hurricane’s neck when his miryhl glared at him.

Satisfied, Stirla raced back into the fray, aiming for an oversized kaz-naghkt who was causing a bunch of Riders a mountain of problems. Knowing he had the situation well in hand, as Atyrn hit the creature from behind, Lyrai urged Hurricane up high.

They weren’t alone up there – Captain Myran circled the battle, shouting orders and guiding Riders into place. Several archers also surveyed the fight, picking off targets. Hurricane was heading towards the captain when something else caught Lyrai’s eye.

“Maegla blast her,” he cursed, tugging Hurricane in the opposite direction. The miryhl shot him an aggravated look, before spotting what his Rider had seen. He growled and leant into the pull on his reins.

“My thoughts exactly,” Lyrai replied, scowling at Cumulo and the untrained girl upon his back. “This is no time for glory hunting!”

Cumulo continued his focused glide without glancing at them. Mhysra, however, looked over and calmly raised her bow. Then, as steadily as if she were on the practise field, she loosed.

It happened so fast that Lyrai barely ducked the arrow speeding towards him. Only when something screeched did he look behind. A kaz-naghkt clawed at its eye, barely a spear length from Hurricane’s tail.

“Maegla!”

A dark blur darted under the wounded kaz-naghkt, the Rider on its back ripping open the creature’s chest with a neat sweep of his sword.

The miryhl ducked out of the way of the falling body and Dhori grinned at Mhysra. “Great!” he called. “Aim for the chests. Only a heart blow will kill them.” Then he was gone.

Stunned, Lyrai turned back to Mhysra – she had her hands over her face.

“Gods, gods, gods,” she squeaked. “I almost killed my lieutenant. Gods!”

And he’d thought she looked calm. It was so absurd, Lyrai laughed. “You can use me for target practise anytime,” he called, as Hurricane swept past and dived back into the fray.

~ Next Chapter ~

All comments welcome – and if you spot a typo, please let me know.
Thanks for reading!

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 22, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch22.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Warning! This one ends on a stinker of a cliffhanger. This is what happens when I serialise a book that wasn’t intended to be serialised.

Then again, the original was written as a serial and some of those cliffhangers were awful.

Anywho, read at your own risk. It’ll continue on Friday.

(And two weeks from today it’ll be over! Guess I better start thinking about what I’m going to serialise next… probably not book 2, though, sorry.)

“COME ON,” DERRAIN urged, jittering impatiently by the door. “Hurry up.”

“Sorry.” Mhysra tumbled out of her dormitory, tying her curls back. “I needed to change. It’s too muddy to fly in fawn breeches.” She eyed Derrain’s pointedly, but he shrugged.

“I’ll flirt with the laundry maids later and they’ll work their magic for me.”

Mhysra shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.” But she didn’t waste her breath; Derrain was charming and knew it. Unfortunately it was a skill that worked on both sexes, which was how he’d gained Lieutenant Stirla’s permission to fly outside of lessons – as long as an experienced flyer kept him company. So far Dhori and Mhysra had been the only first-years granted that privilege, but most didn’t gain permission until their third year. Trust Derrain to outdo them all.

“I’m also lovely, cuddly and perfect for taking home to mother,” he promised, holding the door for her, but only so he could urge her to hurry.

“Not my mother. She knows you.”

“Please don’t take me home to your mother. Or your aunt,” he added, shuddering. “One Wrentherin in my life is as much as I can handle at once.”

She patted his cheek. “So wise so young.”

The eyries were quiet when they entered. Most would still be making their way back from Maegla’s Hall after the Starday service, though Captain Fredkhen and Lieutenant Hlen were checking their students’ miryhls. Mhysra raised her eyebrows at Derrain, then hurried to fetch Cumulo’s tack and prise him away from his lounging.

“Too early,” Cumulo grumbled, when she pulled his head down and slid his bridle over his beak. “Come back when the sun’s gone.”

“It’s going to rain later,” she warned, amused by how quickly his moods changed. It had only been a half-moon since they’d flown for the first time in months. Mere days ago he had purred happily whenever she approached, no matter what the time of day. “Wouldn’t you rather fly when it’s warm?”

He opened an eye, sighed and pulled his wings in. “You win. Where are we going?”

“Derry’s got permission to fly with us, so we’re going to see the lake.”

“I’ve seen it,” he muttered, while she settled his saddle into place and tightened the girths. “It’s icy.”

“It might have melted by now,” she coaxed, smiling as Hurricane lifted a marbled wing so that she could walk around her miryhl. “Thank you.”

He winked, stretched out his neck and returned to lazing. Cumulo watched him with a beady-eye. “The things I do for you and your friends. You’d best be keeping notes.”

“Reams,” she promised. “Is all well?”

He shook himself and stretched his wings. “Good enough,” he grunted. “I suppose we have to go now?”

“Yes, please.” Smiling, she stepped onto his lowered wing, laughing as he twitched and boosted her into the saddle. “Derry will join us as soon as he can,” she said. “So let’s enjoy the warmth while it’s with us.”

Muttering, Cumulo shuffled between the basking Atyrn and Hurricane, stepped daintily over an out-flung wing and hopped onto the open hatch ledge. He paused, head high, while sunlight gilded his beak and shimmered over his feathers. Smiling, Mhysra raised her face too, soaking up the delicious heat. Sunlight was always more precious at the start of spring.

Cumulo tensed and she opened her eyes, shifting with him as he launched through the hatch. They exited on the falls side, swirling away from the roaring water to lift over the bridge and rise in broad circles around the towers of the citadel. They glided lazily, passing from light to shadow, over figures sprawled across the Lawn and in the courtyards below. All of Aquila had become sun-worshippers since the thaw had arrived.

Skimming along the river, Cumulo snatched playfully at the waters, then tucked in his wings.

“Cumulo,” she warned, but it was too late. “Cue!” Her shriek echoed off stone, half-drowned by the roaring water as her miryhl dived underneath the bridge and tipped them over the edge of the falls.

This time he dropped as far as the town before opening his wings and sweeping up again. Mhysra lay against him, heart pounding, skin chilled from the shadow of the bridge. She felt him laughing beneath her.

“You’ll be the death of me,” she grumbled.

He chuckled. “Not yet, chickling. Not quite yet.”

As they rose above the bridge again, shedding rainbow drops of spray, Derrain and Zephyr were waiting. “Ready?” her friend called.

In answer she flattened against Cumulo’s back, laughing as he broke their spiral and raced up the valley. A scream behind promised that Zephyr was following, and the two miryhls darted through the shadows of the citadel towards the heart of the mountain. When they reached the cascade, Cumulo thumped the air with his wings and catapulted them towards the broken spurs that separated the lake from the valley. A second hard flap, a third and they were over the rocks and through.

“Oh, Cue,” Mhysra whispered, as she pushed herself upright on his back for a better look.

A u-shaped bowl glistened before her, the semicircle broken by a sharp peak jutting from the cliffs at the far end. Around the edges snow-clumped fir trees lined the icy shores. As Cumulo soared over the valley, his shadow changed from black to blue below. The lake was thawing, dark with cold, but still had a long way to go. She was doubly grateful for the sun on her back as the chill reached them. The thaw had barely touched this place yet.

Derrain and Zephyr caught up, and the two miryhls darted to and fro. The further they explored the more complex the valley became, with hidden ridges and secret inlets. It would be perfect come the summer and Mhysra spotted some ideal picnic spots. She wondered if there were boats for warmer months and vowed to ask Kilai when next she saw him.

The far end of the valley ended in a sheer cliff, glossy black where all else was white. The water at the base had thawed entirely and was glassy, dark and still, reflecting them perfectly as they passed over. Cumulo glided along the stone, searching for a place to land, while Mhysra stared in wonder. She’d never seen such a perfect natural wall. There wasn’t even room for a raven to land, let alone a miryhl. It could have been chopped by a giant axe: not one crack marred the surface.

It became a game for the miryhls to find a fault, swooping back and forth, using the glistening sunlight to study the surface, until they were forced to concede.

“Glacier made, has to be,” Derrain said, after they landed on the crag in the middle of the wall that jutted over the lake, making the dip in the giant U. There was nothing perfect about this slice of rock and it provided ample roosting places for all manner of birds. “Nothing else could carve so smoothly.”

“Mm,” Mhysra agreed, drinking from her water bottle. “You should ask Captain Fredkhen.”

“Maybe,” Derrain agreed, taking the bottle but pausing mid-swing. “Hey, it looks like something found a fault. Maybe we didn’t go high enough.”

Mhysra shielded her eyes and looked up. Something was moving on the wall, close to the top. It didn’t look like a bird, or at least not any species that she could recognise at that distance. Perhaps a giant bat? It was crawling headfirst down the cliff face. A second joined it.

“Cumulo,” she murmured, a chill that had nothing to do with the lake creeping over her.

Her miryhl tilted his head at her words, one gold eye focusing. He tensed and turned to view the creature head on. “Mount up,” he rumbled.

Derrain jumped at hearing her miryhl’s voice, then looked again. Five creatures now crawled down the wall. “Oh.” He paled and fumbled to put the lid back on the water bottle. “I didn’t…” he began, but ran out of words.

Zephyr butted him in the back as Mhysra swung into Cumulo’s saddle. Derrain dropped the bottle and climbed onto his miryhl.

“Straps,” Mhysra said tersely, turning to buckle her own as Derrain fumbled with his.

“Carefully,” Cumulo murmured, edging around the spur with Zephyr until they were out of sight. “Go.”

They leapt into the air, not bothering to circle for height. It was hard work, but both miryhls were in good condition and crossed a quarter of the lake before their presence was noticed.

A harsh scream echoed over the valley, raising the hairs on the back of Mhysra’s neck. Other voices joined the chorus.

“Blast and burn it,” Derrain growled, glancing over both shoulders, until Zephyr snapped at him to stop. “What do we do?”

“Get to Aquila and raise the alarm,” Mhysra told him. “Rouse the eyries.”

A shadow dropped from the ridge in front of them, followed by a second and a third. Leathery wings spread wide, cupping the air as elongated limbs dangled beneath, thick tails swaying in the wind. Almost-human faces grinned at them, lips peeling back to reveal pointed teeth. They threw their heads back and screamed.

“Cue, go!” Mhysra shrieked, fumbling at her waist for the sword she didn’t have. They hadn’t even begun learning to fight on miryhl back yet, and now this.

Kaz-naghkt.

Two shot upwards while the third coiled its body and launched straight at them. Curved claws opened and for a breathless moment Mhysra stared into red eyes, knowing not even Maegla could save her.

Screaming, Cumulo swung his body up and hit the kaz-naghkt in the chest with his talons. Digging through its belly with one foot, he shredded with the other, using his beak to distract the creature’s teeth. Before it had a chance to use its wing spurs or claws, Cumulo tore off its head and dropped it onto the icy lake below.

The fight lasted a handful of heartbeats, but they dropped perilously low in that time, while Derrain and Zephyr continued on without them. They were almost at the cascade, but two kaz-naghkt were gliding over them. Zephyr was a big miryhl, solid and strong, but she wasn’t fast.

“Keep watch,” Cumulo ordered his Rider, powering in pursuit and skimming the water to clean his talons.

Eager to help, and berating herself for not at least bringing her bow, Mhysra darted glances above, below and over both shoulders. What she saw filled her with horror. “We have company.”

“Where?” he growled, not taking the time to look.

“Everywhere,” she whispered.

“Hold on!” he called, rising to catch the sharp tail-wind that blew down the valley. With that beneath his wings, he glided over the kaz-naghkt pair stalking Derrain and dropped.

Seizing one in his beak and thumping the other with his wing, Cumulo plunged towards the lake, taking both creatures with him. He shook the one in his beak, throwing it into the cliff, before turning on the other.

Dazed but watchful, the kaz-naghkt spread its wings, using them like sails to drift back from the enraged miryhl. Cumulo was almost twice its size, but the kaz-naghkt was protected by hard scales down its back and sides, and armed with claws, teeth, wing spurs and a club tail. It would be a close match and the kaz-naghkt knew it. Lips peeled back over ferocious teeth, thin nostrils flared and it gurgled with laughter.

Watching their enemy warily, Cumulo circled, keeping the creature in sight. It didn’t seem to care that Derrain and Zephyr had escaped and even now would be rousing Aquila. All that mattered was the miryhl in front of it.

“Cue,” Mhysra whispered, not wanting to distract him, but he needed to know what was coming. There were at least fifty kaz-naghkt skimming over the lake or rising to strike from above, with more still arriving. She had never questioned her miryhl’s courage, but he was just one eagle and they were outnumbered. “We have no time.”

When the sun hit their back, he flapped his wings hard, shooting up as the kaz-naghkt lunged. Its scream was curtailed with a thud when it hit the jagged spurs above the cascade. Mhysra looked down at its impaled body as Cumulo rose over the rocks and twisted into the wind. Tucking his wings in tight he dove into the next valley, racing down the river towards the citadel.

The bells began to toll.

Figures scurried below, leaving the Lawn, evacuating the courtyards and readying the nakhounds. Miryhls dived out of the eyries, with and without Riders, and Cumulo fled towards them. Shadows rippled over the river and outbuildings, filling the valley with gleeful shrieks.

The kaz-naghkt had come to Aquila.

“Hold on!” Cumulo shouted, gliding swiftly towards the falls.

He jolted and Mhysra yelped as a kaz-naghkt grabbed her miryhl’s tail. She had nothing to throw; no weapons, no rocks, not even her water bottle. Cumulo strained against the restraint as the kaz-naghkt opened its wings, filling the great leathery sails.

They slowed.

The kaz-naghkt grinned, opened its claws and lunged –

~ Next Chapter ~

All comments welcome – and if you spot a typo, please let me know.
Thanks for reading!

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 22, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch22.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Three chapters to go!

Cheer up, Mouse. Your friends are with you. (Although, if I wasn’t able to fly my miryhl, I’d be pretty grumpy too.)

Twenty Two

24th Winter Rains

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Mhysra warned, watching Mouse lurch to the windowsill.

“If I want to walk again, I have to walk,” Mouse panted, waving away Derrain’s help. White lines were etched at the corners of his mouth, but no one mentioned them.

After almost a month in the infirmary, fighting off infections as well as the damage of the puncture wounds, Mouse had spent the last two moons hobbling around on crutches. The healers still worked with him when the rest of the first-years did their physical training. Thanks to them, Mouse would eventually be able to walk without a stick, but only if he was sensible. And patient. Since this was Mouse, Mhysra didn’t hold out much hope. Especially as he’d decided to forego his crutches entirely this morning.

“Ready to try?” Derrain asked, pushing the others aside.

Mouse stared at the empty floor between himself and Derrain, head bobbing as he calculated the distance: about twelve feet. “Yes. It’ll be easy.”

Hugging his crutches, Corin snorted, but held her peace. The fall had changed Mouse. He was quieter now, more self-contained and grim, and far more determined. His friends had learned to support him in silence, since he didn’t listen to objections. Nor did he want pity or advice. He was going to walk without a limp and that was final.

“All right.” Taking a deep breath, Mouse moved, his friends wincing with each step. After eight feet, he hissed and wobbled. “Blast it,” he growled, grabbing Dhori’s arm. “I hate this.”

“Eight feet is better than none,” Mhysra said soothingly. “And you walked. It’s a start.”

He looked at her. She shut up.

“A limp isn’t so bad. Look at Captain Myran,” Greig pointed out, as one or other of them had done daily since the accident.

“Myran was already a captain when he gained his limp,” Mouse growled. “I’m not even allowed on a miryhl. If things stay this way I’d have been better off breaking my neck.”

An uneasy silence fell and Mhysra hunched her shoulders, her guilt over Mouse’s injuries growing with every bitter day that he struggled to walk again.

“Cheer up,” Derrain ordered, squeezing Mhysra’s arm sympathetically. “It’s your first go without crutches. Don’t give up yet. Even miryhls have to learn to fly.”

“Is da poor ickle cwipple feeling sowwy for himself?” a mocking voice cooed.

Bovei and three of Willym’s favourite students lounged in the corridor behind them. Eyeing Mouse’s bent leg and the crutches Corin held, Bovei smirked. “Poor baby.”

“Got something to say, lordling?” Greig demanded, squaring up the them. Though he might have lacked his uncle’s intimidating height, Derrain didn’t, and the pair of them blocked Mouse from unfriendly eyes.

Bovei looked Greig up and down and raised his eyebrows at Derrain. “Farm boys. So uncouth.” He sniffed exaggeratedly. “Can you smell something? Has someone been sleeping with the pigs again?” His friends tittered.

Mhysra put her elbow on Derrain’s shoulder and leant casually against him. “I didn’t know you shared a dormitory with Fredkhen’s boys, Derry.”

The tips of Bovei’s ears went red, but he rallied. “And who’s been sleeping in yours?” he sneered. “Everyone knows why girls really want to join the Riders. What’s the matter, wouldn’t anyone take you in Nimbys?”

Derrain tensed, but Mhysra laughed, pleased to have deflected Bovei’s poison.

Greig smiled. “Funny you should show such an interest since it’s your bed I’ve been hearing about. But then, one must always strive to please one’s lieutenant. In whatever way he desires.”

One of the boys choked, while Bovei balled his fists. “What are you implying, farm boy?”

“I think you know, lordling,” Greig sneered.

Derrain unfolded his arms slowly, smiling as Bovei watched his big fists flex and bunch. “I think the whole citadel knows.”

If looks could kill…

Going for the final push, Mhysra raised her eyebrows. “Got a problem with that, lordling?”

Too angry for words, but not brave enough to take on Derrain, Bovei spat at their feet and marched off, taking his friends with him.

“He’s not very happy with us,” Corin said sadly.

Greig shrugged. “Willym’ll kiss it better.” The friends grinned.

Except for Mouse. “I can look after myself,” he growled. “I don’t need you protecting me.”

Despite his antagonism, Greig chuckled. “But it was fun. Taking out the rubbish was my main chore back home. I’m good at it.”

“As a cabin boy I chased rats off the ship,” Derrain said, stretching his arms over his head. “It’s good to stay in practise.”

“I don’t need your help,” Mouse snapped.

“Who said we did it for you?” Greig retorted, taking the crutches from Corin and shoving them at him. “Maybe we got fed up of him poisoning our air.”

“I could have dealt with him,” Mouse insisted stubbornly.

Derrain shook his head. “It isn’t fair to keep all the fun for yourself. We deserve some too.”

Clenching his jaw, Mouse manoeuvred his crutches into place. “If it makes you happy.”

Grabbing hold of Corin, Greig waltzed her down the hallway. “Nothing makes me happier than meeting Lord Twit and his twittering lordlings. It adds something to my day.”

“Arsenic?” Mhysra enquired, and Mouse actually cracked a smile. There was hope yet.

Somewhere high overhead a bell began to ring, causing Corin to stop. She yelped as Greig tripped over her and they collided with the wall, collapsing in a graceless heap.

It was Starday, so the bell meant only one thing: time to fly.

Corin and Greig hastily untangled themselves and raced off, but Mhysra waited, while Dhori and Derrain exchanged glances over the glum Mouse’s head. Derrain raised his eyebrows, but Dhori shook his head, jerking it to the right. Derrain shrugged.

“Come on, Mouse,” Dhori said. “I’ll walk with you to the healers.”

Mouse narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”

Derrain grinned. “We know you don’t, but maybe Dhori does. He took an embarrassing knock yesterday. It hurts to sit down.”

Mhysra bit her lip as the unflappable Dhori scowled, only to blank his expression when Mouse looked at him. “Really?”

“A little tender,” he mumbled. “Care to keep me company while I see the healers?”

“I can do that,” Mouse agreed with a hint of his old bounce.

Derrain winked at Mhysra. “See, it’s not always about you, Mouse.”

Leaning into his crutches, Mouse raised a hand to make a rude gesture.

Shaking his head, Derrain sighed. “I am so unappreciated.”

“Aye,” Mhysra agreed, patting his arm “You’re a regular martyr to your miracles.”

“I know,” he murmured modestly. “But still I try.”

* * * * *

THE EYRIES BUSTLED with students as Mhysra scooped up her harness, before weaving between the miryhls. Cumulo’s eyes were bright and he dipped his head at her approach.

“Feeling impatient?” she asked, buckling the straps of his bridle.

“I thought the snow would never end,” he grumbled, shivering at the weight of the saddle. “I’ve forgotten how to fly.”

“Hardly,” she snorted, tightening the girths. “You’ve been out every day, just not with me.”

“I’ve forgotten how to fly with you then. I’ll try not to drop you.”

“Thanks.”

“Hurry up.” He nudged her. “I want to beat the rush.”

Excited at the chance to fly again, Mhysra double checked all the buckles and straps, worried she might have missed something in her haste. “All right?” she asked, making Cumulo look again when he snapped that it was fine. Finally satisfied, she stepped onto his lowered wing and swung astride.

“At last,” he growled, leaping before she had a chance to tuck her legs up or gather the reins.

“Cue!” she complained.

“If you fall off now, you’re being stupid,” he retorted, teetering on the edge of the hatch. “Sort yourself out.”

“Yes, my lord. Sorry, my lord. Will that do, my lord?” she grumbled, tucking her feet into place and lying along his back. “I love you, Cue, even when you’re impatient.”

“You say that now,” he chuckled, and dropped over the edge.

“Maegla,” Mhysra whispered, tightening her grip.

They’d left the eyries on the waterfall side of the bridge countless times before, but this was the first time Cumulo hadn’t bothered to open his wings. Instead he used them to clamp her legs to his sides. The falls roared as they dropped parallel, flashing past the town in heartbeats. Then all was stone, water, clouds and the ferocious rush of the wind.

Cumulo fell, the air rippling over his feathers and nipping at his clenched wings. Water beaded his belly and Mhysra’s face, before being snatched away. A wiser person, Mhysra suspected, would have been terrified as the Cloud Sea drew closer, darkened by the shadows of rocks below. Energy and excitement fizzed through her as she delighted in the icy rush of the wind and the stomach-clenching fear of freefall. She laughed. She was flying with Cumulo. Nothing was better than this.

Cold seized her legs as Cumulo relaxed his wings, spreading them wide to sweep out of the dive and over the turbulent sea. A pale shape dropped past and Cumulo flapped upwards in surprise, talons raised to deal with the threat. The other miryhl opened its wings and shot beneath them, shrieking a challenge.

“Damn mimicking magpie,” Cumulo snarled, racing in pursuit.

Hurricane and Lyrai looked over their shoulders and sped up. The lieutenant was laughing.

Cumulo screamed and flapped harder, rising above Hurricane to where the air was smoother. Mhysra was surprised – and delighted – to see how her miryhl had improved. He’d had another growth spurt over the winter and was now the slightly larger of the two.

Hurricane glanced up, banked left, then right, searching for an updraft to rise on. Cumulo growled, ducked into the turbulence and found a surge of his own. They shot skywards.

Lyrai looked down, grinning as he urged his miryhl on. Hurricane responded, flapping harder. Cumulo stretched out his neck and strained to match.

Rising over the Cloud Sea, he aimed for a tree-covered spur, pulling away from Hurricane as their paths diverged. Mhysra wondered what the others were about, but trusted her Wingborn to counter. At the last moment Hurricane banked and cut back towards them.

Too late – Cumulo was ahead.

Mhysra whooped, laughing as they reached the trees and she felt the immediate change in temperature. Thermals. Warmer air rippled over them as Cumulo’s wings levelled out and he soared, spiralling higher with hardly a change of pace. The rush made her light-headed. Hurricane swooped underneath them then up, settling into a counter spiral.

Exhilarated, Cumulo called to his rival in smug miryhl-speak. Much as Mhysra adored her Wingborn, humility had never been his strongpoint. On this occasion, though, she just laughed.

Hurricane screamed back and Lyrai grinned, raising his arm to indicate that they were returning to Aquila. Mhysra waved her agreement, then relaxed against Cumulo, watching the other pair speed away.

“Still love me?” Cumulo asked when they were alone.

Smiling, she buried her face in his feathers and relished the cold, airy scent of him, tinged with a hint of sweet dust. “More than ever.”

~ Next Chapter ~

All comments welcome – and if you spot a typo, please let me know.
Thanks for reading!

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 21, Part 3

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch21.3

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

In which Lyrai learns that being a lieutenant isn’t all fun and games, after all. Oh, Mouse.

(P.S. Last Wednesday update! It’s only twice weekly chapters from now until the end.)

“COME IN, LIEUTENANT.”

Feeling nervous, Lyrai walked into the dean’s office. The room was filled with the pleasant glow of oil lanterns holding back the night. “You wished to see me, sir.”

The dean waved him in. “I apologise for keeping you waiting, but I believe I have all the facts now. Please, take a seat.”

“Very good, sir.” Lyrai nodded warily and sat down.

Since he’d entered the room, the dean hadn’t looked at him once. Instead Marshall studied the bronze statue on his desk: a miryhl at the moment of takeoff. The metal was glossy from regular handling, but detailed on every feather. It was a beautiful piece and one Lyrai had long coveted. The dean stared at it now as if it could tell him the answers to all the most difficult questions. “What made you join the Riders?”

Lyrai frowned. “I never dreamed of anything else, sir. It’s tradition.”

“Tradition,” Dean Marshall echoed, rubbing his thumb across the miryhl’s beak. “There are many traditions in the Riders. Some better than others.”

“Sir?”

The dean looked at him with a weary smile. “Forgive me, Lyrai, I was pondering. Please tell me your version of today’s events.”

Unsure how much to reveal, Lyrai started at the beginning. It was one thing to know a fellow lieutenant was rotten and encouraging his students to go the same way, but another to say it to a commanding officer. Reminding himself that his first duty was to his students, especially their safety, Lyrai stuck to the truth. Even when it didn’t put him or Hurricane in the best light.

“Ah.” The dean nodded when he was done. “Thank you, lieutenant. Your version of events matches that of others, including your captain. I appreciate your honesty.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The dean sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry that one of your students was injured, Lyrai. He will, of course, be given all the best care and attention that we can provide. I will also inform you of any decisions I make regarding the matter, both before and after I put them into practise. Will that suffice for the present?”

It wasn’t much but, from the man’s obvious fatigue, Lyrai suspected the dean had bigger issues on his mind. It would have to do. Patronage was a powerful weapon, even in a place where status should have been left behind. Bovei’s father was wealthy and powerful. Coupled with Willym’s connections it made him almost unassailable, especially against a commoner like Mouse. The dean’s word would have to be enough.

Mustering a smile, he bowed his head. “Thank you, sir.”

“I will do what I can. You know that.”

Which meant there was little that the dean could do. “I know, sir.”

Marshall walked around the desk to grip Lyrai’s shoulder. “You will make an excellent captain. Myran says it, and I agree. Don’t be disheartened, Lyrai. Continue to care for your students as best you can. It will be enough.”

Lyrai could only hope so. Weary and disillusioned, he stumped down the tower, wanting nothing more than to sleep for a half-moon and leave all this ugliness behind. Yet there was one more thing he needed to do before he sought his bed, so he crossed the bridge and headed high into the eastern citadel.

Aquila’s infirmary was fitted with enough space and supplies to deal with a large emergency. It was designed to treat an entire flight in need, so it was disconcerting to find it so empty. Only one bed was occupied, watched over by a healer writing by candlelight near the door.

Lyrai’s boots echoed on the floor and the healer looked up. “Yes?” he demanded, squinting into the dark. He blinked a few times, then smiled. “Lieutenant, I’ve been expecting you.”

Smiling, Lyrai shook the man by the hand, having been patched up by him many times. “Healer Nehtl, it’s good to see you. I hope you’re well.”

“As well as can be for a man who deals in sickness.” The tall healer shrugged and waved towards the patient. “He’s sedated, but awake. I had to use enough to down a bullwing just to keep him still. Don’t be too long.”

Mouse looked so small, his skin bleached by the pale linen, making the freckles on his face look like flecks of ink. At Lyrai’s approach he stirred, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

He rolled his head, disorientated, until he spotted Lyrai. “L’ten’n,” he slurred, and tried to salute. His coordination was off and he whacked himself in the eye. Typical Mouse.

Lyrai perched on the bed, careful not to disturb his legs. “How are you feeling?”

Mouse grinned. “Can’t feel a thing. Not ma nose,” – he tried to touch it, and hit his ear – “nor ma toes.” He smiled blissfully. “Dunno why ‘m here, but s’nice. You come t’stay too?”

Lyrai shook his head. “No, I came to see you. You’ve hurt your leg, Mouse, that’s why you’re here. They gave you something for the pain.”

“Mouse,” he repeated sleepily, unable to follow so many words. “Tha’s me.”

“So it is,” Lyrai agreed, standing up. “Can I look at your leg?”

“Have I got one?”

Taking that as a yes, Lyrai folded back the blanket to reveal Mouse’s right limb, heavily bandaged from the top of his thigh down past his knee. Bloodstained the white linen all over, but the two darkest patches showed where the puncture wounds must be, the biggest one on the inside of Mouse’s thigh. With his leg propped up on a number of pillows, it was clear to see that the wound went straight through the muscle and out the other side.

“Oh, my,” Mouse murmured, struggling to sit up enough to look for himself. “Sum’un was clumsy. D’ya think he’ll lose it?” He stared at his leg as if it belonged to someone else.

Smiling, Lyrai covered him up again. “I think he’ll be all right.”

“Good,” Mouse mumbled, shutting his eyes. Within heartbeats he was snoring.

“Neat and nicely placed. I don’t think we’ll have much trouble with infection.”

Lyrai looked over at Healer Nehtl. “You’ve got Student Mhysra to thank for that. She keeps her miryhl clean.”

The healer stared down at Mouse. “I think he has more than that to thank her for.”

Unable to argue, Lyrai thanked the healer for all he’d done, took one last look at the defenceless lad, so different with all his nervous energy stripped away, and left. He needed rest, though he doubted he’d be able to sleep. Visions of whipped miryhls and falling boys haunted him through the darkness.

~ Next Chapter ~

All comments welcome – and if you spot a typo, please let me know.
Thanks for reading!