Category: Overworld

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 16, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch16.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

If you have any dramatic music close at hand, preferably with soaring strings, press play… now!

MHYSRA STARED OUT of the porthole, hungry for another glimpse of her Wingborn, but a crash made her turn, wiping the tears from her face. Her guards were arguing. The older one was making fierce gestures, while Talro was shaking his head. The water jug had somehow been knocked to the floor, wooden beakers rolling across the sodden boards.

Then the door opened.

“Aunt Mhylla!” Before the guards could stop her, Mhysra launched herself across the room into her aunt’s arms.

“There now, hush, don’t fuss,” Mhylla murmured in a stern yet comforting voice, though her arms gripped Mhysra just as tightly.

“How did you get in?” Mhysra asked, knowing without asking that the door had been locked. Her mother was good with locks.

Pulling free, Mhylla opened her palm. “With the key, of course. I find that’s always the best way of getting through locked doors.”

Mhysra raised her eyebrow, knowing full well her mother wouldn’t have left the key behind, no matter how distracted she’d been.

Mhylla grinned. “Lunrai never checks her pockets.”

“You stole it?” Mhysra said incredulously. “You picked a countess’ pockets? Aunt Mhylla, stealing from the aristocracy is a serious crime. She could have you hanged!”

Her aunt chuckled. “Dearest girl, I’ve been picking your mother’s pockets since before she could walk. If she hasn’t had me locked up yet, I doubt she ever will. Now, will you stop fretting over stupid things and fetch your bag.”

“But -” Mhysra looked from her aunt to her guards in confusion. The older one looked grumpy and angry, but Talro was grinning.

“I’ve been needing a couple more farmhands for a while,” Mhylla explained, shaking Talro’s hand and nudging the other guard with her elbow. “Talro likes animals, and Memlo thinks a change of scenery might be best about now.”

“I like bullwings,” Talro agreed in heavily accented Imercish. “Memlo’s good with horsats. We will like Wrentheria.”

Mhysra blinked, having assumed her guards didn’t speak anything but Mistrunan. They’d certainly done nothing to make her think otherwise.

“Lady Kilpapan will not be pleased,” Memlo growled, his accent less thick than his brother’s. “We will be lucky to even reach Wrentheria.”

“Gloomy,” Talro chuckled, while Mhylla waved a dismissive hand.

“I’ll deal with my sister. Mhysra, I told you to fetch your bag. Or do you want to go to Aquila with nothing but what you’re wearing?”

Grimacing, Mhysra did as she was told, pulling out the bag she’d packed in Nimbys when she’d contemplated running away. “Where’s Bumble?” she remembered to ask, as she pulled her flying gear from another bag.

“Here,” Mhylla dragged Mhysra out into the stateroom, buckling her coat straps for her along the way. On spotting her mistress, the nakhound pup jumped up from the basket in the corner and bounded across to lick Mhysra’s hands.

“Why is she wearing a harness?” Mhysra asked, pulling on her gloves.

“Because it won’t be safe to fly with her any other way,” Mhylla told her, wedging a flying cap over Mhysra’s curls. “I don’t know how we’re going to get you off this ship, but oh, Mhysra, good luck.” She pulled her into a tight hug. “And remember that no matter what happens you will always have a home with us.”

Mhysra squeezed her aunt until she almost couldn’t breathe. “Thank you,” she whispered, her heart too full to say anything else. She should have known better than to think her aunt had given up on her just because she’d stopped arguing with the countess.

Mhylla nodded, her eyes a little damp. “Let me go first. I’ll distract Lunrai, you look for Cue. Keep Bumble close. This’ll be a near run thing.”

Taking a deep breath, Mhysra nodded, jittery with excitement and trepidation. “Let’s go.”

“Bumble, come.” Snapping her fingers, Mhylla strode across the stateroom and opened the door, barging her sister out of the way in the process. “Oh, Lunrai, how careless of me. I am so terribly sorry.”

Even as her aunt bent over to help the countess up, she was waving frantically behind her back for Mhysra to get out.

Gripping her bag tightly, Mhysra sidled out of the stateroom and found the main deck of the Illuminai mostly empty. The crew was lined up uneasily along the rails, keeping as far as possible away from the two miryhls in the centre. She’d recognise Hurricane anywhere, her eyes widening to find Lieutenant Lyrai had flown all this way for her. Seeing Dhori behind him was almost as astonishing, since he was only a student.

A tug at her hand made her turn. Her mother was fighting against Mhylla, but had managed to grab hold of Mhysra’s bag. “If you do this,” the countess growled, looking almost wild. “You’ll be no daughter of mine.”

Mhysra tugged hard, but her mother’s grip was tenacious. “I never have been.”

“You won’t be a Kilpapan.”

Though not unexpected, the words hurt like knives as she stared into her mother’s furious eyes.

“She’s always been more of a Wrentherin anyway,” Aunt Mhylla said calmly, drawing Mhysra’s tearful gaze. “And she’ll always have a home with us.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Then: “Mhysra!”

She turned, the bag falling forgotten from her hand as she saw Cumulo dive from the sky and swoop along the side of the ship.

“Stop her!” Lady Kilpapan pushed free of Mhylla and lunged for her daughter.

“Mhysra, go!” her aunt shouted, but she didn’t need telling.

Mhysra ran towards the two miryhls on the deck, even as the crew started closing in. “Dhori, bring Bumble,” she shouted as she darted between Hurricane and Latinym.

“What are you doing?” Lieutenant Lyrai shouted, as Hurricane turned and bounded after her.

The presence of the miryhl had the crew stumbling back out of the way, leaving the deck clear all the way to the prow.

“Mhysra!” Cumulo screamed as he drew alongside her at the front of the Illuminai.

“Cue, catch!” Sprinting the last few strides, she gathered herself and dived over the rail.

A cacophony of screams and shouts exploded behind her, only to be snatch away by the roar of the wind as she plummeted through the open air, arms and legs splayed in a desperate bid to slow herself down.

There was nothing between her and the Cloud Sea, only emptiness and oblivion.

“Cumulo!”

He fell with her, a dark shadow with outstretched wings. Diving in front of her, he pushed closer and closer until her hands gripped his feathers, then he swooped.

She hit the saddle with a jarring thud, but it was the most beautiful feeling in the world as she wrapped herself around her Wingborn and he carried her back into the skies.

“Cumulo, oh, Cue,” she sobbed into his neck, shaking all over.

He was trembling too as he raced them both away from the Illuminai, the rest of the Rift Riders dropping into formation around them. “Mhysra, my Mhysra,” he crooned, his voice broken and choked.

“You caught me,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against the cool silk of his feathers. “Thank Maegla, you caught me. I knew you would. I knew you’d find me. I knew you’d catch me.”

“I will always catch you,” he promised vehemently. “But promise something, Mhysra. You have to promise.”

“Anything.”

“Never do that again.”

She laughed, long and hard with a hint of tears, while Cumulo flew home through the sunset, surrounded by the protection of the Rift Riders.

~ 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 16, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch16.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

You’re getting this early this week, because I won’t have a chance to post tomorrow. Although maybe leave it until tomorrow to read, or even Sunday, because I don’t want you to throw things at me for this ending.

In other words – the chase is on!

Sixteen

THINGS IN THE eyries had been hectic all morning, the Riders still having to patrol while also preparing stock, supplies, miryhls and gear for the move to Aquila in two more days. Many of the miryhls were fretting with excitement. Though most abhorred the long ship flight to Aquila, they were looking forward to the change of scenery.

Of them all, however, Cumulo seemed the most agitated. In fact, if Lyrai hadn’t known better, he would have thought there was something wrong with the Wingborn. The way he baited from foot to foot on his perch and paced the walkway when it was clear, spoke of something more than excitement and nerves over the upcoming move.

He’d asked Hurricane if there was something wrong – being unable to ask the Wingborn himself – but his miryhl had shaken his head and flicked his wings.

“If there is he won’t say.”

Hoping that it was nothing more than pre-Aquila nerves, Lyrai shrugged and readied Hurricane for their upcoming patrol.

Then Milluqua arrived, an uproar exploded and Cumulo started screaming for Mhysra.

“Cane, stop him!” Lyrai ordered, worried the young miryhl would try to track down his missing Wingborn alone.

Hurricane didn’t argue and, with the help of several other big miryhls, managed to corral Cumulo long enough to calm him. He stopped screaming but continued to bait, chest heaving with emotion.

“Tack me up,” he muttered to no one in particular. “You must tack me up. I can fetch her. I can bring her back. Make me ready. There won’t be time. We have to hurry.”

When no one moved, most too stunned at hearing a miryhl talking so freely without his Rider present, Cumulo cast a golden-eyed glare at the watchers and shouted, “Do it!”

Hurricane caught Lyrai’s eye and nodded, sending him darting for the tackroom. Corin was already there, searching the pegs for Cumulo’s bridle, his saddle already slung over her arm.

“Good girl,” Lyrai praised, reaching past her for the bridle beside Hurricane’s. “Let’s go.”

Seeing them approach with his things, Cumulo held still, but he was trembling, feathers puffed up, shaking with restraint. Lyrai knew the moment he finished with the bridle Cumulo would go, so he ordered Honra to have his flurry mount up and prepared a message for Stirla as soon as he returned from his patrol.

“Derrain’s gone to find where the Illuminai went,” Corin murmured to Lyrai as she fumbled with the straps of Cumulo’s breastplate.

Taking over, Lyrai sent her a grateful smile, reaching down to check the breastplate was threaded through the girth before he checked and tightened those straps.

“They’ll be headed for Wrentheria,” Cumulo muttered, flexing his wings. “Mhylla and the cousins are going home. That’s where she’ll have her. That’s where they’ll be going. Buckle me tight, I can take it.”

Lyrai dared to put a hand on Cumulo’s shivering wing. “Probably,” he told the miryhl, answering his earlier comments before complying with the last. “But Derrain will know for sure. It won’t hurt to wait a little longer.”

“Too long, too long,” Cumulo fretted, baiting from foot to foot again. “She might hurt her.”

Though he doubted it, since it wasn’t in the countess’ best interest to injure her own daughter, Lyrai didn’t argue. The Wingborn was not rational at the moment, and Lyrai had no wish to antagonise him further.

“Wait for Derry, Cue, that’s all I ask.”

At first Lyrai didn’t think Cumulo had heard, then the Wingborn stilled and lowered his head, heaving a heavy sigh. “I’ll wait for Derry.”

“Thank you.” Trusting the miryhl to keep his word, Lyrai rushed to prepare Hurricane. Checking the straps one last time, he shrugged into the flying coat a student was holding for him. It took no time at all to buckle the holding straps into place, then he pulled on his flying hat and checked his goggles were clear. This was going to be a hard, long flight into unknown weather and he wanted to be ready for anything.

“Honra, stay here and take half the flurry out on patrol,” Lyrai said to his sergeant as he pulled on his gloves. “Make sure none of the students try to follow. Corin and Derry are usually a sensible pair, but I can’t trust them with this.”

“And Dhori?” his sergeant asked.

Lyrai looked over his shoulder at where Mhysra’s students friends – minus Derry – were huddled by the door. He wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying, but Dhori was holding Mouse in place with his hands on his shoulders and talking earnestly.

Flexing his fingers to loosen the leather of his gloves, Lyrai sighed. “If it’ll appease the others, let him come. I doubt you could stop him anyway. Tie Mouse up if you have to.”

The corner of Honra’s mouth curled up in a wry smile. “I’ll lock him in the feed room.”

“Good man.” He slapped his sergeant on the shoulder, just as Derrain ran into the eyries, sweat-soaked and panting.

“Wrentheria,” he gasped, falling to his knees. “They’re going to Wrentheria.”

Cumulo shrieked and pinned Lyrai beneath his golden glare. “Now, lieutenant?”

“Aye, now,” Lyrai agreed, springing into Hurricane’s saddle. “Riders, to wing!”

* * * * *

THE FLIGHT WAS as long and hard as Lyrai had expected, and there were many times when he feared they might lose sight of Cumulo altogether. He truly was a most impressive miryhl, and the added incentive of regaining his kidnapped Wingborn made him almost too fast to follow. Thankfully, with half his flurry at his back and the mysterious Dhori alongside him, Lyrai’s worries never quite came true. Yes, Cumulo was fast and determined, but even he had to slow down occasionally for a gliding rest as they flew through the morning and deep into the afternoon.

Lyrai had never been so relieved to see a skyship in his life as when the Illuminai finally drifted into view, flying high above the Cloud Sea, sails fully extended, the green and silver gasbags proclaiming its Kilpapan ownership to the Overworld.

He hardly needed Cumulo’s screech of recognition, though it did prepare him for when Hurricane soared in pursuit of the darting Wingborn.

They’d made it, they’d found the Illuminai. Now all they had to do was convince the countess to let her daughter go.

As they drew closer to the ship, Cumulo flared his wings to slow down, finally realising that he couldn’t do this alone. They needed a plan, and Lyrai would probably be the one to execute it. He twisted in his saddle until he found Dhori and Latinym, gliding alongside, several wingspans to the left.

“Any ideas?” Lyrai shouted over to the student.

Dhori grinned. “A few.”

Which was more than Lyrai had. Urging Hurricane to turn, he swept in a broad circle around the twelve Riders from his flurry. Using the Rift Rider code of hand and arm gestures, he soon had his men arranged as he wished, surrounding the ship, then flew back towards Dhori and Cumulo.

“You, circle until I call for you,” he told the Wingborn, not trusting the brash youngster to hold his tongue. Though Lyrai sympathised with his troubles, he also didn’t want him to ruin everything. Not that Lyrai was confident about any of this, in which case it would be best to keep Cumulo in reserve anyway. “I mean it. Stay away from the deck unless I call you.”

He saw the miryhl’s beak moving, no doubt muttering curses down upon his head, but eventually the Wingborn nodded. “Aye, sir.”

“Good. Dhori, you’re with me.”

The student saluted and urged Latinym alongside Hurricane as the two miryhls dived towards the ship, taking care not to get tangled in either the sails or the gasbags.

“Do you have a plan, sir?” Dhori called, as they circled over the top gasbag and down beneath the Illuminai’s hull.

“No,” Lyrai shouted back. “I’m making it up as I go along.”

As Dhori laughed, Hurricane shot up the starboard side of the Illuminai, came level with the deck and twisted. With a flare of his enormous, marbled wings the great miryhl swooped over the guard rail, scattering skysailors as he landed in the middle of the deck.

Amidst the ensuing confusion of men tumbling out of the way, Latinym hopped the rail himself and joined the other miryhl on the Illuminai.

Not that Lyrai was paying attention. His eyes were firmly fixed on the woman standing halfway up the stairs to the wheelhouse. Slender and small though she was, only a fool would think Lunrai, Countess Kilpapan was weak. Her curly black hair had been ruthlessly pinned back, her sharp chin was tilted at a haughty angle and she met Lyrai’s gaze with the imperious confidence of a queen.

“Welcome aboard the Illuminai, lieutenant,” she greeted coolly. “To what do we owe this unexpected honour? Are the Rift Riders performing customs checks these days?” Her words created a ripple of nervous laughter amongst her crew, but Lyrai kept his eyes solely on her.

“Only for contraband, Countess.”

She smiled. “I’ll think you’ll find everything in the hull is bought, paid for and fully verified, lieutenant. Kilpapans have never been afraid of taxes.”

“I believe human trafficking is a new enterprise for your family, and hard to tax too, being illegal in all Overworld states.”

Her smile didn’t falter. “I believe you are mistaken, sir. All the people we have on this ship are either crew or paying passenger.”

“All except one, my lady,” he countered, watching as she descended the rest of the stairs to stand before the door to the staterooms below the wheelhouse. “And that is who we’ve come to collect.”

Lady Kilpapan folded her arms across her chest. “I have no idea what you mean.”

It was Lyrai’s turn to smile. “I mean your daughter, Countess. We’ve come for Lady Mhysra, and we do not intend to leave without her.”

~ 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 15, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch15.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Sorry it’s a little late today, I’ve been enjoying the sunshine on Dartmoor and may have just accidentally scooped all the birders up there desperately searching for the lammergeier that I’m pretty sure I saw. Oops! (But funny. They need to get out of the car parks, it landed right below them and they had no idea! And it definitely wasn’t a buzzard. I know buzzards, this wasn’t one.)

Anyway, time to catch up with Mhysra and find out just what is going on. (Sadly, with zero chance of lammergeiers – but they do appear in this series, oddly enough, in book 3.)

MHYSRA WOKE TO the sound of voices. They were muffled, but the words were clear, if only her brain wasn’t too fogged to understand them. Frowning, she opened her eyes and groaned as bright light stabbed at the ache in her head. She shut her eyes again, trying not to think about the foul taste in her mouth.

“Kirdensk, mir ladai?”

The words meant nothing to her, but the tone was kind, so she cracked open an eye. A beaker loomed in front of her nose. “Oh, thank you.” She pushed herself upright, gritting her teeth against a wash of pain and dizziness, and took the drink.

“Nith nagath, mir ladai.” It was the Mistrune sailor, the smiling one. What had her mother called him? Tolgoth? Talgath? Talon?

She sipped the water and sighed with relief at the clear, cool taste. She remembered now about the strange butter and sharp apple juice. Something about her breakfast had been drugged, but if this water was more of the same she didn’t care. Draining the beaker to wash away the foul taste in her mouth, she handed it back to her jailor with a small smile.

“Thank you, umm, Tal…?”

“Talro, mir ladai. Lar kirdensk?” He waggled the beaker invitingly.

Mhysra nodded. “Please.”

Her guard beamed and stumped across the cabin to poured more water from the pitcher. It gave Mhysra a chance to look around. She was in her mother’s private cabin on the Illuminai, sparse but elegantly decorated, making the most of the limited space available aboard ship. Loud voices drifted down through the wood: shouts of the sailors on deck relaying the commands of the captain; a conversation between the captain and the pilot in the wheelhouse over her head; sounds of men below, reorganising the cargo; the heated exchange between her mother and aunt in the state room on the other side of the door.

She ignored it all for the moment, more interested in the quiet words being spoken between her two guards. It was the same two men who’d come to her room, the Mistrunan brothers. Talro didn’t look so happy now as he clutched Mhysra’s drink to his chest, while his smaller, older brother grumbled at him. She wondered what they were saying, but since they stuck to Mistrunan, she didn’t have a hope of understanding.

It hardly mattered, as Talro gave a small shrug and shot Mhysra a bashful look before bringing her the refilled beaker. She thanked him again and turned her attention to the angry voices beyond the door, while Talro rejoined his brother on guard duty.

Things were getting loud out there, Mhysra realised and shut her eyes again, the better to concentrate on what was being said.

“And I’m telling you, Lunrai, I won’t be party to this!” Aunt Mhylla rarely raised her voice, but when she did there were few who could shout her down.

“And may I remind you, Mhylla, that I never asked you to be.” Countess Kilpapan was a woman who prided herself on her control, but even her voice sounded strained in the face of her older sister’s anger. “She’s my daughter, my responsibility. You’re only here because we’re taking you home.”

“You may have birthed her, Lunrai, but I raised her.” Mhylla had lowered her tone to a growl. “That makes her as much mine as yours.”

“Ha!” Lady Kilpapan scoffed in a most unladylike manner. “I wondered how long it would take before you threw that in my face again.”

“Again?” Mhylla sounded incredulous. “I’ve spent the last twenty-four years raising your children and haven’t raised the subject once!”

“Except for the time just before Milluqua’s coming out ball, when her father was arranging a very advantageous match for her -”

“To a man three times her age!” Mhylla interrupted, sounding almost shrill.

“Then there was Kilai. I lost count of the times you’ve interfered with him. First in keeping him two years longer than his father wished, then by encouraging him to join the Riders -”

Mhylla made an angry noise, but Lunrai overrode her by raising her voice. “Much against our wishes, might I add. You even gave him his own miryhl before the Choice! And now… now we come to Mhysra.”

The was a long, angry silence and Mhysra could imagine them both trying to compose themselves for the next round of the argument.

“You cannot have forgotten the circumstances of her birth, Lunrai,” Mhylla said, almost too softly for the words to carry through the wood.

The countess gave a bitter laugh. “Well, you cannot deny that I was there for it, much though you’d like to deny me the honour.”

Mhylla sighed. “I do not deny that you are her mother, Lunrai. I’ve never wanted to take your children from you.”

“And yet you interfere with our parenting at every turn. You constantly undermine our authority. You think you know what’s best for them. You think you know them better than we, their parents, could ever know them.” Her voice was rising again.

“Because I do!” Mhylla shouted. “I do know what’s best for them, I do know them better than you ever could. I raised them! I watched them grow! I comforted their nightmares, soothed their hurts, guided their education and listened to their dreams. Parenting does not begin in adulthood, Lunrai. By the time you and your husband summoned your children they were already grown. It is too late to mould them into the creatures you wish them to be. They are their own people, they have their own lives to live. You cannot rule them as if they were servants or worse, slaves. You lay down rules and make orders, expecting respect and duty to be yours by right. You have to earn them, Lunrai. They can never be taken by force.”

“So speaks my sister, the perfect mother.”

The bitterness in the countess’ voice shocked Mhysra. It almost sounded like jealousy, but surely no one had made her give up her children, no one had forced her to leave them to her sister’s care. No one had demanded she choose between her precious ships and her three babies. This was Lunrai, Countess Kilpapan: no one would dare.

“I’m not perfect, Lunrai. No mother is, it’s impossible to be, as you would have known had you dared to try.”

The countess gave a scornful laugh. “Gods, you haven’t changed a bit, have you? Still the same sanctimonious, self-righteous harridan you’ve always been.”

“And you’re just as stubborn, selfish and ruthless as you always were. Duty,” Mhylla squeaked in an exaggerated mimic of her sister. “That’s what you always prate about, isn’t it? Duty to the Kilpapan name. What about your duty to your children? Milli is happy to go along with your plans, so long as she can have a say in her marriage – good for her. Kilai was less happy, but you’ve accepted his choice to become a Rift Rider because it reflects well on that damned Kilpapan name. What of Mhysra? Your youngest and the one whose destiny was set the day she was born.

“You were there, Lunrai, you must remember. How your labour pains started early and we rushed to get you back to the manor, but we didn’t make it in time. There, in the hatching pens, your beautiful new daughter cried out at the same time a miryhl hatched, a late season egg we never expected to make it. You stayed long enough to see how neither would settle unless the other was there. You knew what they were. You knew what it meant.”

Though Mhysra had heard the story a hundred times, her aunt’s passionate recounting brought a lump to her throat. Such a special gift, granted entirely by chance. She’d felt so lucky all her life, treasuring the chance she’d been given. And now it was to be taken away from her by the one person who should have valued it most.

Mhylla clearly agreed, because she continued: “But now you’re willing to wreck it all, to smash this precious gift, and all because you’re determined that one of your children will follow the path you’ve set out for them. Maybe I shouldn’t haven’t interfered with your plans for Milli and Kilai, not that I regret either, but that doesn’t mean Mhysra should pay the price.”

“She is my daughter.” The countess’ voice was hard, as though was forcing the words out between her teeth. “She will do as she’s told.”

“A fine time to assert your authority,” Mhylla snapped. “Only the stupidest generals pick battles they cannot win. You’re demanding she goes against everything she is. You’re asking her to turn herself inside out for you. You, a woman she hardly knows, for all you claim kinship now that it’s convenient for you. You cannot win this battle, Lunrai. Even if you succeed in separating her from Cumulo -”

“I have separated her from Cumulo!” Lunrai interrupted loudly, the words sending a stab of pain through Mhysra’s heart.

Mhylla gave a sceptical snort. “We’ll see about that,” she said, unwittingly soothing balm over Mhysra’s wounds. “But as I was saying, even if you’ve succeeded in separating them, you’ll break her. She’s Wingborn, Lunrai. Part of a pair. They don’t survive on their own.”

“Myths, lies, propaganda and stories, that’s all it is. This Wingborn nonsense you’ve stuffed her head with all these years. It’s all lies!”

As the furious scream died away something inside Mhysra withered and died. Any hope she might once have had that her parents would relent, might come to understand her dreams and let her go, finally died in the face of such anger and resentment. They would never understand. They would never let her go.

“What happened to you, Lunrai?” Mhylla asked in a low, sad voice. “What happened to the girl who believed in legends? Who wanted to explore the world in search of them?”

“She grew up, Mhylla.” The countess was back in control again, her voice cold. “And it’s time Mhysra did the same. I thank you, sister, for the work you have done in raising my children. I shall always be grateful for your care, but they are adults now. Your responsibilities towards them are over. They are Kilpapans, and it is up to the earl and me to decide how their lives go from now on.”

“They are not servants or soldiers, fit only to obey your commands, Lunrai. You must -”

“No, enough!” the countess shrieked. “Enough, Mhylla. You have said more than enough. You have done more than enough. You are not the mother of my children. You have no say in their futures. Your time with them is over.”

“This is not over, Lunrai,” Mhylla contradicted, her voice shaking. “It will never be over. Adults make their own decisions.”

“Then you have no right to make any for them any longer.” Lady Kilpapan sounded faintly smug, and Mhysra’s hands balled into fists. “By your own words, sister, your task is over. It’s time to let them go.”

“Only if you will.”

The countess gave a light and patently false laugh. “My dear sister, I wish for nothing more. Just as soon as Mhysra is settled in her new life I shall be more than happy to do as you ask.”

Her mother twisted words so easily, Mhysra might almost have believed her, if she didn’t know that she would never settle into this life her parents were forcing upon her. Nor, she hoped, would Cumulo.

“Find me, Cue,” she whispered, pressing a fist against her mouth. “Maegla, please, help him find me.”

“You’re wrong about this, Lunrai, and I only hope you never have cause to regret it.” Mhylla, it seemed, had given up. Though Mhysra couldn’t blame her aunt for no longer wishing to bang her head against the brick wall of the Kilpapan pride, it still hurt to hear herself being abandoned.

The countess laughed bitterly. “Say it like you mean it, sister. I know there’s nothing you’d like more than for me to rue my every decision since the day I left your precious Wrentheria. As if there had ever been enough room there for me.”

“I only wish for my niece to be happy.” Mhylla was completely sincere.

Lunrai laughed. “Preferably at my expense.”

“Life isn’t all about you, sister. In fact -”

Whatever she was about to say was lost under a harsh scream. It came from above, and was swiftly followed by sounds of confusion on the flight deck. The thunder of running feet, the sounds of shouting voices, more screams and Mhysra threw herself towards the line of portholes along the side of the cabin.

“Cumulo,” she whispered, just as an enormous shadow swept across her vision, silhouetted against the late-afternoon sun. More shadows swooped past, circling the ship.

Miryhls. There was miryhls out there.

“What is going on?” Lady Kilpapan demanded somewhere on the deck overhead, but Mhysra didn’t care, she just stared out of the porthole at the swirling miryhls, tears in her eyes as the sunlight flashed on the gold tips of Cumulo’s wings.

He had found her. He had come.

~ 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 15, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch15.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Both posts are slightly longer this week, but not quite long enough to warrant a third post. Also, this chapter splits perfectly in two, so a third post would mean chopping things off mid-scene. It does mean there are a few sort of cliffhangers hanging about, but it’s all in the name of excitement, promise.

Anywho, it’s time for Mhysra’s reckoning… sort of. There’s certainly trouble afoot.

Fifteen

32nd Fledgling

Mhysra was waiting when her mother came to see her the next morning. The sun was already high in the sky, but she’d been up since dawn, unable to stop herself from pacing. What was she going to do? How was she going to get out of this? It was worse than she’d ever imagined. Yes, she’d known her parents would be angry with her, possibly even disown her, but imprisonment? And Mherrin said that Rift Riders were melodramatic.

Despite having paced every inch of her bedroom in her impatience, watched mournfully by a subdued Bumble, Mhysra threw herself into the nearest chair the moment she heard the key snap in the lock. Her mother likely knew how frustrated, angry and anxious Mhysra was feeling, but she was damned if she’d give the countess the satisfaction of seeing it.

So this time it was Mhysra sitting calmly at her desk when her mother entered the room, but Lady Kilpapan did not come alone. The door was opened for her by a bulky skysailor, whose chief qualifications for the work appeared to be his bulging muscles. Behind the countess came a second skysailor, similar enough to be the first’s burlier brother. He carried a breakfast tray, which he took over to Mhysra at the countess’ command.

Though big and intimidating, his bald head covered with tattoos, the sailor smiled at her and murmured something polite-sounding in Mistrunan. His friendliness caught her off-guard and she thanked him, wondering if he was to be her jailor.

At a nod from Lady Kilpapan, the men took up station either side of the door, while she advanced into the room. Noticing the bag Mhysra had filled during the night, in a fit of helpless defiance, the countess smiled. “You’re already packed. Good. We leave this afternoon.”

Glancing at the guards and deciding she didn’t care how much Imercian they understood, Mhysra crossed her arms over her chest. “What makes you think I’m coming with you?”

Lady Kilpapan arched an eyebrow, but ignored her in favour of opening the wardrobe. “You will need to pack a few more bags. These dresses will be useful for when we dine with our favoured clients. Breeches and shirts are well enough for the deck,” the disparaging glance she cast over Mhysra’s current attire suggested otherwise, “but we must also be prepared for elegance, when the situation calls for it.”

Turning to her men, she issued a stream of Mistrunan. The smiling one bowed his head and slipped out of the door. “Talro will bring more bags for you.”

When Mhysra said nothing, knowing it would be futile to argue, her mother frowned. “You should eat. We have a long voyage ahead of us.”

Torn between going on hunger-strike or maintaining her resources in the hope of an escape, Mhysra compromised by pouring a glass of apple juice. “Have you visited the Rider offices yet?” she asked, half-hoping that by doing so her mother would draw attention to her missing daughter and perhaps bring about a rescue. Yet she also feared some ignorant and unfeeling clerk would accept Cumulo without question, not caring what had happened to his troublesome female Rider.

Flicking through the beautiful dresses hanging in Mhysra’s wardrobe, the countess gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Your father has agreed to sort that out once we are gone. The last thing we need is any interference. Those Riders think too highly of themselves these days.” Though her scowl was directed at a silver gown, it was clear she was thinking back to the recent party disaster and the scene with Captain Myran and his men.

Silently fuming as this sliver of hope was crushed, Mhysra took a fierce bite of toast. The butter was unpleasantly salty and she reached for her juice. The cool sharpness sent a shiver through her.

“Yes, your father and I have arranged everything to our satisfaction.” Her mother emerged from the wardrobe with an armful of dresses, which she tossed casually on the bed. Her eyes flickered over her daughter, seeing the half-eaten slice of toast on her plate and the mostly empty glass in her hand. She smiled. “You’ll need more than that. We are heading straight for Wrentheria and I have much to teach you.”

Despair crashed over Mhysra, making her head throb and her heart ache. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered, drinking more juice in an effort to wash away the unpleasant aftertaste of the butter.

“Because I must,” her mother replied, coming over to pour her another glass, forcing it into Mhysra’s suddenly heavy hand. “Drink up. It’s for the good of the family. You’ll understand that one day.”

Obeying the command, Mhysra lifted the glass, but her arm felt so weak. She managed a few more sips before the glass slipped from her hand. “What have you done?” she tried to ask, but her words slurred as an ache in her head made the room go dark.

“What I had to,” the countess said, brushing the hair off Mhysra’s face with a surprisingly gentle hand. “You are my daughter. Did you really expect me to believe you would go quietly?”

The door opened again as Mhysra’s vision blurred and faded. “Ah, Talro,” she heard her mother say. “I have some luggage for you to carry. Memlo, bring the dog.”

The last thing Mhysra remembered was Bumble growling, while a kind voice murmured foreign words in her ear, then she was floating and the darkness swept in to claim her.

* * * * *

DERRAIN KNEW HE should have been packing up his things and saying farewell to his friends in Nimbys before he left for Aquila, but somehow he just couldn’t stay away from the eyries. Though he’d always admired miryhls and enjoyed watching them, he’d never fully understood Mhysra’s fascination with the place. Until now.

Now that he had a miryhl of his own, he couldn’t keep away. He had no idea what a Rider was supposed to do for their miryhl, but he figured it was never too early to learn. That’s why he left his lodgings at first light and climbed the slope out of the city. Since the new miryhls were still being housed in the temporary building, Derrain checked the main eyries as he passed and was disappointed to find that Mhysra wasn’t already there. Since he was certain he’d see her later, he swallowed his questions and walked on.

In fact he was soon so absorbed in getting to know Zephyr that he barely noticed anyone else at all. Whatever tentative thoughts he might once have formed about his relationship with his future miryhl had been completely swept away by the reality of Zephyr, her calm, quiet voice and gentle manner.

She was beautiful and he thanked all the gods he could name that Mhylla had led him to her, before anyone else had chosen her.

That morning she’d taken him patiently through the composition of her wings, telling him the names of her feathers, muscles and tendons, what they did and why they were important. Now it was his turn to prove he’d been listening.

Running his hand along the top tendon of Zephyr’s outstretched wing, he splayed his fingers through the strong, broad feathers at the end. “These are the primary flight feathers and they -”

A loud squawk interrupted him and he glanced over at the pen on his left.

“Oh, Maegla, I’m sorry!” Corin wailed, hiding her face in her hands, while her miryhl frantically preened beneath her wing.

Sharing an amused glance with Zephyr, Derrain ducked beneath the partition rope and peeled a hand away from Corin’s face. “What happened?”

“I was trying to groom Wisp, but I’ll never get it right!” Corin cried, and threw herself at Derrain’s chest.

Raising his eyebrows, Derrain automatically caught her and cuddled her close, looking at Wisp over Corin’s curls. The miryhl emerged from beneath her wing to roll an eye and ruffled her feathers back into place with a sigh. Clearly no harm had been done.

“I’ll never be good enough for her. Why did I think I could do this? I only wanted to help. Mhysra makes it look so easy,” Corin mumbled against his chest, and finally he understood.

Holding her away from him, Derrain slipped a hand beneath Corin’s chin until she met his eye. “You do know she’s had a lifetime of practise at it, right?”

Corin sniffled, though her eyes were dry and it was clear she was more frustrated than upset. “Preening shouldn’t be difficult.”

Chuckling, Derrain cuddled her again before turning her around and pointing her in Wisp’s direction. “Why don’t you try talking about it next time? Between the two of you I’m sure you’ll sort something out.”

Girl and miryhl eyed each other cautiously, then thoughtfully, before Wisp raised her wings the tiniest fraction.

“I’m sorry!” Corin wailed again, throwing her arms around her eagle’s neck.

Shaking his head at the dramatics, Derrain ducked back under the rope to rejoin Zephyr. She was chuckling.

“What?” he had to ask.

“Every pair is different,” she said, shaking her own head in clear amusement.

“Thank the Gods for that,” he replied, thinking of his Rider friends and the many differences between them. If their miryhls weren’t blessed with personalities to match, the Overworld would be a far duller place.

“Derry? Derry, are you there?” the unexpected call came from the entrance to the eyries. It was a voice he knew well – and the last he expected to hear this morning.

Frowning, Derrain stroked a hand across Zephyr’s wing and strode for the door. “Milli?” he said in disbelief.

“Oh, Derry!” She darted forward and seized his arm, shocking him with her appearance. Lady Milluqua Kilpapan was known throughout Nimbys as a true lady, one who always dressed to perfection and was never seen in the slightest disarray.

Except this morning. Her dress was made of pale green floaty material, but her heavy shawl was dark blue, her hair was only half up and she was wearing a pair of chunky boots, the sort Mhysra wore all the time and Milluqua politely disdained. To top it all off her face was flushed and she was clearly out of breath.

Dread gripped Derrain. “What’s the matter, Milli? Has something happened to Mhysra?”

Holding him tightly with one hand, as if worried he would run away, she pressed her other palm against her chest. It was clear she was struggling to breathe, but she nodded. “Yes. Mhysra. Kidnapped.”

By now they’d attracted a small crowd of students and Derrain wasn’t the only one to cry, “What?”

“Mother,” Milluqua wheezed.

“The countess?” Corin squeaked. “But why?”

“I’m more interested in where,” Derrain growled, and carefully peeled Milluqua’s hand off his arm. Clasping it between his own, he squeezed gently. “Stay here, Milli. Get your breath back, then Corin will take you to our lieutenants, all right?”

“And you?” Milluqua asked, dark eyes wide.

“I’m off to the docks, to see what the gossips have to say. Did they take the Illuminai?”

Milluqua nodded, more of her hair tumbling down. “I think so. It was my mother, Derry. Our own mother took her.”

Having worked beneath the countess’ command for many years, Derrain wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Lady Kilpapan may have been small and dainty looking, but she had a will of steel and never took no for an answer. He patted her hand as reassuringly as he could. “I’ll find out where they went. You,” he looked around at his friends amongst the students, “stay here and form a plan.”

With a chorus of agreement at his back, Derrain set off for the city at a run. He’d barely reached the palace when he heard a scream behind him.

“Mhysra!”

Cumulo knew his Wingborn was gone. Derrain only hoped he could find out where before the big miryhl decided to track her down alone.

~ 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 14, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch14.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

And everything had been going so well…

HAVING SNUCK OUT before dawn, safe in the knowledge that her family was still sleeping, Mhysra crept back in as the midnight bells tolled. Though she tried justifying her actions by remembering how excited her friends had been after their test flights and how it was only natural to celebrate with them, she couldn’t deny the truth. She was a coward.

There had been too many people around for her parents to corner her the night before and by the time everyone had left it was too early for confrontations. It had seemed like the easiest option to escape for the day rather than face her parents. Now Mhysra’s head pounded from lack of sleep, she could barely keep her eyes open and her feet dragged with dread. She couldn’t avoid them forever, but a little longer was all she asked. The students were due to leave in three days. If she kept her head down and didn’t cause any trouble she might just make it. Especially while her aunt was staying here.

“Coward,” she cursed herself as she slipped in through the servant’s entrance. “Dirty, rotten coward.” Still, if that was what it took to get to Aquila, cowardly she would be.

The hall was dark as she tiptoed from the kitchen. A single lantern glowed by the front door, where the night footman waited in case of messages. Not wishing to disturb him, Mhysra scurried up the backstairs to her room. Holding her breath, she turned the handle and winced as the catch clunked. When the silence held, though, she sighed with relief and went inside.

“Good evening, Mhysra.”

The door thumped closed as she stumbled back against it, heart jumping. Sitting at the desk, flicking through accounts by candlelight, Lady Kilpapan was waiting for her.

“I wondered if you’d return, but since your nakhound and clothes are still here, I assumed you would.” Lady Kilpapan shut the ledger with a snap and looked up. “We need to talk.”

Since talking was the last thing Mhysra wanted to do, she remained by the door, fingers flexing on the handle, debating whether it was too late to run. She was tired. All she wanted to do was sleep. Couldn’t this wait until morning?

“Sit,” the countess commanded, pointing to the chair she’d positioned beside the desk. It wasn’t the only thing that had been rearranged while Mhysra was out. Slinking guiltily across the room, she was dismayed to see her extra flying gear and school notes displayed on the bed. Her mother had been busy.

“I should have anticipated this,” Lady Kilpapan said, rapping her fingernails on the desk, lips tight with annoyance. “We made a mistake, your father and I. We knew you were wilful, but so was Milluqua when she first arrived. When you settled down, we assumed you were following her pattern. Mhylla assured me you were a good girl, polite and obedient.” She looked up and caught Mhysra’s eye. “Apparently not.”

Mhysra bit her tongue. She was perfectly polite and obedient as long as she was being asked to do something meaningful. Something worthwhile. Something other than prancing around ballrooms and simpering in parlours, pretending to be an empty-headed fool.

“Perhaps it was a mistake to let Mhylla raise you. We expected a well behaved, biddable child, and you expected freedom with no repercussions. No doubt we are as disappointed as each other.” The countess’ lips tightened again and she studied the flickering candles. “Despite these unfortunate circumstances I believe we understand one another at last. You have done as you wished and continued your masquerade even after I explained everything. I underestimated your determination, but I believe we can work past this.”

If she had been talking to anyone but her mother, Mhysra might have felt hopeful. Instead her throat grew tight and her heart heavy. She didn’t want to know what was coming next.

“Since you have publicly embarrassed your father, he has handed you over to me. A little earlier than planned, but perhaps it’s best. Nimbys is clearly not the best place for you. Your father is too busy to oversee your behaviour and Milluqua has aided in your deception.” Mhysra winced, hoping that her sister hadn’t been blamed for any of this. “Since your social debut must wait for the gossip about your misbehaviour to die down, you will come with me. The Illuminai will keep you occupied.”

Mhysra gasped, though her throat was so tight she could barely breathe. Her head throbbed and her eyes burned, but not with tears. “What -”

“Do not,” Lady Kilpapan interrupted sternly, “mention Cumulo. We’ve had this conversation before. I told you what the price of disobedience would be. Your aunt refuses to take him, but since you will be on the same voyage I think that’s wise. Tomorrow I will visit the Rift Rider offices. I am certain they will take him, and gladly, for they need every miryhl they can get.”

Mhysra barely heard – she was too busy trying to breathe. There was no way the Riders would accept Cumulo without her. Once bonded a miryhl rarely took a new Rider. A Wingborn was likely to kill any who tried. Cumulo wouldn’t leave her, he couldn’t.

“Do not misunderstand me, Mhysra,” her mother continued, uncaring of the storm she was creating, “you are not being punished. It may seem that way, but you are misguided and ignorant. You’re no longer a child. The time has come for adulthood. You require more educating than your father and I realised, so the fault for this embarrassment lies partly with us. That is why we are taking these steps. You will forget your foolishness and appreciate the advantages of a respectable life, while Cumulo will be happier with a real Rift Rider. It’s for the best.”

Finally Lady Kilpapan looked at her daughter, eyebrows raised, awaiting an answer. Mhysra stared back, her expression mirroring the countess’ – cold, with the anger shoved down deep. Perhaps they were more alike than she realised.

Thinking of Cumulo, Mhysra couldn’t even fake a smile. “Do you expect my gratitude?”

Lady Kilpapan looked amused. “No. That will come later. All that matters now is that you accept. You are so eager for duty, Mhysra, and this is the one life has dealt you.”

“I am Wingborn,” she stated flatly, despite wanting to scream until the whole city heard. She wanted to storm, rage and throw tantrums until her parents relented and let her make her own choices. But Lady Kilpapan wanted her to do that so she could accuse her of childishness again. Then, as a superior adult, she would feel justified in taking her wayward child in hand.

“An unfortunate happenstance. It was an accident of birth, but one without any real meaning.” The countess waved away the most important bond in Mhysra’s life with a blasé flick of her hand. “You were raised together, so of course you feel close. Understandable but easily put aside, like all childish things. Come, Mhysra, you know how this will end. Save yourself and Cumulo the unnecessary suffering. It is time you both grew up and accepted your places in life. You belong with your family, he belongs with the Rift Riders.”

“My family lives at Wrentheria.”

Lady Kilpapan’s jaw twitched as she clenched her teeth. “Stop this foolishness, Mhysra. You are a Kilpapan. You will remain with us.”

Mhysra met the countess’ eyes, satisfied to see anger sparkling there. “So you say.”

“Indeed.” Lady Kilpapan tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gathered her things from the desk. “You are tired. We will discuss this in the morning.” As she reached the door, she paused to look at her daughter in the shadows. “It will be better this way.”

The door closed, leaving Mhysra confused by the abrupt conclusion to their conversation. Surely it couldn’t end so easily? Surely her parents wouldn’t be so foolish? They’d dictated to her before and it hadn’t worked. Tomorrow, she’d sneak out at dawn again, and this time she wouldn’t come back.

A scrape sounded at the door, followed by a click.

Mhysra leapt across the room and seized the knob. Too late. She rattled the handle and pounded on the wood, shouting for help, but there was no answer.

The door was locked. She was trapped.

~ 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 14, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch14.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Oh, look, Mhysra’s being all mature and meeting her problems head on.

Ha, kidding! Of course she isn’t. Then again, what you rather do: talk to the Kilpapans or go flying? Exactly. It’s test flight time!

Fourteen

 31st Fledgling

Drifting above the mountainside, Lyrai revelled in the freedom of flying at sunrise. The city below still lay in shadow, but the sky was warming quickly. Hurricane glided upwards in lazy circles, tilting his wings in tiny ways to alter their direction and height. After only two days together, Lyrai felt as though he had never been without him. Hurricane was perfect.

“What happens now?” the miryhl asked, passing into the shadow of the mountain.

“Test flights,” Lyrai replied. “And those who haven’t chosen will take another look.”

“Why? What will they see now that they missed yesterday?”

“Nothing,” Lyrai admitted, as they drifted back into the light. “Except they’ll have more room to move today and more experts on hand to help.”

“Such fuss,” Hurricane chuckled. “You humans like making things complicated.”

Resting against the miryhl’s back, Lyrai smiled. “We feel more important that way.”

As the sun climbed over the Cloud Sea, the roofs of Nimbys glinted and Hurricane swooped over the stirring city. It was such a joy to fly again, Lyrai could patrol the same routes every day for a month and not grow bored.

“Company,” Hurricane called, drifting back towards the flying field, where nervous students waited with their families.

One miryhl was already out, swirling upwards and drawing envious stares. Lyrai smiled as Hurricane glided closer, attracting attention of his own. The two miryhls were close in size, but where Hurricane was all marbled shades, the other was brown with a golden sheen.

“Good morning,” Lyrai called as Hurricane began a counter spiral.

“Morning, sir,” Mhysra replied, lying against Cumulo’s back.

Studying the Wingborn pair, Lyrai practised the role he would soon take up at Aquila. He’d never seen such a powerful bond between a Rider and miryhl. No matter what Cumulo did – flap, glide, swoop – she was ready. Lyrai felt a twinge of envy as they wheeled off over the ridge, diving into the shadow. He’d never flown so well.

“Young and foolish, but impressive,” Hurricane murmured. “Wingborn usually are. He needs a strong Rider to keep him sensible. It’s a good match.”

“It ought to be after fifteen years,” Lyrai remarked dryly, watching the pair reappear.

Hurricane chuckled. “In fifteen more years, it will be perfect. As will ours.”

Unable to think that far ahead, Lyrai looked at the busy field below. “We should go back. It isn’t fair to keep all the fun for ourselves.”

Hurricane swooped around in a wide arc without argument. “I am eager to learn what a lieutenant does.” Then he tipped into a sharp dive that left no one in any doubt that they were watching an experienced Rider and miryhl in action.

* * * * *

“SHOW OFF,” CUMULO grumbled, as the marble miryhl skimmed across the field. There was a smattering of applause when Lieutenant Lyrai jumped down. His new mount preened at the attention. “He’s nothing special.”

Smiling, Mhysra rubbed her miryhl’s neck to soothe his ruffled pride. He’d not been happy to find that the big miryhl had beaten him outside, and was even less impressed to find him bonded to the lieutenant. Only the fact that Cumulo was Wingborn – and thus superior in every way – prevented him from acting on his jealousy.

“I have no need for flashy tactics,” he muttered. “A mere glance proves that I am the better miryhl. And my bonded is superior too. I’ll show them.”

“Not today!” Mhysra yelped. “We haven’t time to play primary feathers.”

He tensed, and she feared he would ignore her, but he opted to glide into a descent instead. “As you wish, chickling, though helping a bunch of incompetents stay astride second-rate miryhls doesn’t seem important to me.”

“You’re such a snob,” she said fondly, and they executed a perfect landing that proved her miryhl hadn’t stopped competing yet.

“You make it look so easy!” Mouse bounded over with Derrain, Dhori and Corin in tow. They were all visibly anxious, except the unflappable Dhori. “Is it easy? Cumulo’s big, isn’t he?”

Cumulo puffed proudly, sticking out his chest.

“Not as big as Lieutenant Lyrai’s Hurricane, though. Did you see him? People say he’s the most impressive miryhl they’ve seen in years!”

“Shut the whelp up before I disembowel him,” Cumulo growled, and Mhysra dragged her friend away.

“Nervous, Mouse?” she asked, jumping into the word flow and swimming against the tide.

He shot her a sheepish glance. “A bit.” For a moment there was beautiful quiet. Then: “But I’m used to it. Hethanon says it’s my natural state. He thinks not even a boulder on the head would slow me down. He says I thrive on pressure. I’m not sure. I think I’d like a quiet life, but then I look at the miryhls and change my mind. I can’t wait to fly, even though I know I’ll fall off and end up smashed on rocks, my body ground to mush, forced to spend the rest of my life being fed through a spout -”

The exuberant flood of calamities was cut off as a firm hand was clapped over Mouse’s mouth. “That’ll do,” Derrain said, somewhat weakly.

“You’ll be fine,” Mhysra assured them all. “Even if you fall, you shouldn’t be high enough to hurt yourselves.”

Corin’s shoulders drooped. “Rub it in, why don’t you? You show up flying effortlessly, out on your own in the wide blue sky, while we’ll hardly get off the ground. Why did I think I could do this?”

“Because you’re capable, brave and ready for adventure,” Dhori consoled her, putting an arm around her shoulders. Corin’s worries vanished under a grin and Dhori raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m just being nice.”

“You’re always nice,” Mhysra said.

“Not to me,” Corin grumbled when he took his arm away. “He never stays still long enough.”

“That’s because Dhori is a very wise man.” Harlan had come along to support his cousin.

“Wisdom, ha!” Corin mocked. “You wouldn’t know wisdom if it bit you on the -”

“Thank you, Corin!” Lieutenant Stirla interrupted, striding over. “I think we all know your feelings about Harlan by now.” He grinned as she blushed. “Play nicely, children, or you won’t get to fly the pretty birdies.”

“He’s not a Rider,” Corin grumbled, shooting Harlan a glare that promised retribution. “He shouldn’t be here.”

“Nor are you,” Harlan taunted. “So maybe you should leave.”

“Thank you, Harlan,” Stirla interrupted again. “Behave or I’ll order you off the field and Mouse will have to cope on his own.”

“I’ll be fine on my own,” the lad in question chirped. “He’ll only laugh when I fall off anyway.”

“Who’s fallen off?” Mherrin asked, ruffling his cousin’s hair and smiling at the others.

“No one. But they haven’t brought the birds out yet.” Mouse’s gloomy prediction cast a cloud over the group and they all fell quiet. Shaking his head, Lieutenant Stirla wandered off.

“What a cheerful bunch.” Mherrin laughed. “If my cousin can fly, anyone can.” He hopped back when Mhysra mock-punched him, grinning as he crashed into Corin. “Oh, sorry.”

For once the flirtatious girl was silent and simply stared, eyes wide and dreamy.

“Leave her alone,” Mhysra scolded, dragging her cousin away. “She has enough crushes, without adding you.”

“Always room for one more,” Corin protested.

He shot her a soulful glance and placed a hand over his heart. “I have no wish to be one of many, fairest of maidens. There is room in my heart for only one.”

“And you call Rift Riders melodramatic. Move, Mherrin, or I’ll fetch Aunt Mhylla.”

Mherrin jumped, but when he realised his mother was across the field he relaxed. “Mam’s too busy to bother with me today. That reminds me, she wants you and Cue.”

Mhysra raised her eyebrows. “And you?”

He smiled smugly and held out his hands. “No mount, cuz, so I must be content with watching the rest of you have all the fun. Alas.”

“Poor baby,” she drawled, while Corin and Mouse giggled. “Derry, please stop him from doing anything stupid.”

“Do I look like a miracle worker? You need a god for that task.”

Scowling at his unhelpfulness, she looked elsewhere. “Dhori, would you watch him, please?”

“I am not a dog,” Mherrin protested.

“No,” Derrain agreed. “A dog can be trained.”

“It would be an honour,” Dhori said calmly, while the pair tussled. “Though it’s been a while since my last miracle. My skills are a little rusty.”

“Practise makes perfect,” Mhysra said, and hurried away before she had to watch her cousin do anything embarrassing.

* * * * *

“CAN I LOOK YET?” Lyrai asked, hiding his face against Hurricane’s neck.

His fellow lieutenant and the two miryhls chuckled. “I never thought I’d say this,” Stirla murmured, “but I don’t begrudge you being appointed as flight instructor anymore.”

Lyrai lifted his head as Mouse misjudged his mounting manoeuvre and tumbled off the far side. Thankfully his miryhl was unruffled by his antics or the crowd’s laughter.

Lyrai groaned. “Kill me now.”

“Look lively, the boy is on and stable… sort of.”

Sighing, Lyrai watched Captain Myran and Mhylla Wrentherin adjust Mouse’s seat, murmuring advice – and a few prayers – before stepping back. “Ai Gods.”

Mouse stiffened as the small miryhl cast a look over his shoulder, opened his wings and jumped from the platform. There was a gasp when Mouse wobbled, but his miryhl shifted to balance him. The watchers sighed with relief as the dark eagle glided across the field, executed a careful turn, rose ten feet in the air and coasted in to land. With his student still onboard.

“A bloody miracle,” Stirla muttered, joining the applause as Mouse tumbled down and threw his arms around his miryhl’s neck. “Damn, I owe Derry a silver talon. I didn’t think he’d last the field.”

Lyrai shook his head as others in the crowd exchanged money. He should probably scold his friend for not setting a better example, but couldn’t be bothered. Instead he studied the little eagle standing patiently while Mouse rushed around him.

“That’s a good miryhl.”

“A saint,” Stirla agreed, scowling at a jubilant Derrain. “What’s he so about cheerful, isn’t he up next?”

“But richer by a talon,” Lyrai pointed out. “Plenty for a lad to be happy about.” He grinned at Stirla’s growl as they waited for the next miryhl to reach the platform.

The three days of the Choice were the biggest in a young Rider’s life. However, for the rest of the world, watching a group of youngsters fumble with their reins, fall off or barely hang on as their miryhls took an easy lap of the field was tedious. The only interest came from amusing falls or if a miryhl decided to make a bid for freedom. That was why Hurricane was there, ready to take off in an instant. If Lyrai failed to act, Stirla, Honra and Mhysra were also standing by. Some might call it overkill, but with students and young miryhls taking their first flights together there was no knowing what might happen.

As Derrain walked up the platform, he said something softly that made both Myran and Mhylla smile.

“More miracles.” Stirla raised his eyebrows. “This next year will certainly be interesting.”

Lyrai agreed, watching Derrain and his new miryhl perform their flight. Nothing showy, just a trip back and forth without any mishaps. If there was a wobble in Derrain’s legs when he dismounted, most were too busy applauding to notice. Lyrai was impressed and relieved. He could easily work with Derrain – a solid base, without overconfidence. He’d be happy with more such students, but he wasn’t optimistic.

“Halfway,” Stirla pointed out, while Dhori flew like a natural. He didn’t perform any tricks, but it was obvious that he could have completed plenty with ease. “He’s done that before.”

“Mm,” Lyrai agreed thoughtfully. “A lad of many talents.” It was already clear who was going to be this year’s star, even before they reached Aquila.

“Here comes Corin. This should be good.”

“Unkind,” Lyrai said, smiling as the diminutive girl accepted a boost into the saddle and shivered with fright.

“I don’t like heights,” she yelped, sending a ripple of amusement through the crowd.

“You live on a mountain, student,” Captain Myran pointed out.

“A mountain is solid.” The miryhl shifted and she grabbed the front of her saddle with a squeak. “It’s not very stable up here, is it?”

“Come on, Corin! I thought you weren’t afraid of anything,” someone shouted. It sounded like former-student Harlan, if Lyrai wasn’t mistaken.

“Anything, no,” she grumbled. “I’m afraid of specific things. Like falling and death.”

“You’ll be fine,” Mhylla told her brusquely, prising her hands free and wrapping them around the reins. “If you survived the selection school, you can manage one flight no higher off the ground than your own head.”

Corin pulled a face and glanced at Mhysra. “You know I said you were the luckiest person I knew?” she called. “I take it back.”

“Wisp,” Mhylla said to the miryhl. “Take her away before I damage her.”

The miryhl chuckled and leapt. Corin’s scream swiftly turned to excited whoops as her miryhl displayed an impressive turn of speed.

“That’s enough, Corin,” Mhylla shouted, as girl and miryhl took a third turn around the field.

“I love flying!”

“A useful trait, student,” Captain Myran called, “which you will have plenty of time to practise. But not now.”

For a moment it looked like they would refuse. Lyrai and the other Riders straightened, preparing to fetch her.

“Flying is a privilege, student, which can be revoked at any moment. With or without cause.” Captain Myran’s tone dropped, which anyone familiar with him knew meant no good.

It also worked on those he had only just met because, with a sigh, miryhl and student returned to the ground. The watchers settled back with disappointment.

“I thought that was going to be interesting for a moment,” Stirla grumbled.

“Like you said, halfway through,” Lyrai reminded him.

“And I signed up for this. Why did I want to become a captain again?”

“Bigger pay, shiny stripes, social prestige?” Lyrai asked.

Stirla wrinkled his nose. “Maybe.”

“And girls. Girls are impressed by titles like captain.”

“That’ll be it.” Stirla turned to watch a Storm Peak student take his turn. “Nannying. All that training and it’s come to this.” They winced as the miryhl turned a sharp corner, but his rider didn’t. “At least the lad’s well padded,” Stirla murmured, taking Atyrn to check that the boy was all right.

“All hail the glory of the Rift Riders,” Lyrai sighed, and resigned himself to the tedium.

~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 13, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch13.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Party time! Bring on the captains!

AFTER CHOOSING MOUSE a placid male named Onyx, Mhysra turned her attention to Corin, finding her a female whose mottled feathers would make an ideal scout. Then others asked for help and the rest of the day vanished. Only Dhori had chosen by himself, and Mhysra had been impressed by the slender silvery Latinym.

It had been a good day, and she’d thoroughly enjoyed herself, but was relieved when she could finally leave. Not that she expected much rest, since her aunt and cousins were staying at Kilpapan House. After a short bath, Mhysra left her room to find things were even worse: her parents were entertaining. Lady Kilpapan had arrived from Wrentheria with the rest of the family and their eagles that morning, and since so many members of the miryhl-breeding community were in the city, she couldn’t resist bringing them all together. Life was business, as she frequently reminded her children.

Milluqua greeted Mhysra at the bottom of the stairs and they shared a grimace. “I’m sorry. I wanted to warn you, but mother roped me into organising.”

“Wonderful,” Mhysra sighed, clicking her fingers to call Bumble down from where she was tugging on the ribbons strewn across the chandelier. The still-growing pup huffed and fluttered down from the ceiling, wings drooping.

“Poor girl,” Milluqua chuckled, scratching the nakhound behind the ears. “We’ve had to shut her in your room most of the day.”

“I thought things in there were a little more haphazard than usual,” Mhysra said, smiling at her sister and the puppy. She’d half-hoped that the dog would transfer her affections to Milluqua, since they spent so much time together. Unfortunately, even though Bumble liked Milluqua, she still preferred Mhysra. Gods alone knew why, since she didn’t even feed the creature. “There’s no accounting for taste.” She patted Bumble and ruffled her wings, avoiding an enthusiastic lick.

“Aunt Mhylla will want to see her,” Milluqua said, entering the ballroom, where a buffet had been laid out to tide people over until supper. “At least you’ll have people to talk to tonight.”

Mhysra hummed in agreement, filling a plate with delicacies and slipping a slice of chicken to Bumble. It would be nice to enjoy one of her parents’ parties for once. Usually they were full of nobles and merchants who thought too highly of themselves to waste time on the hoyden daughter. Unless they were younger sons ordered to court the wild Kilpapan chit, for her connections and impressive dowry. Mhysra hated the false smiles, feigned interest and lack of conversation. She had nothing in common with those people. Thankfully, tonight would be different, and she planned to make the most of it.

“Oh, there’s Derry. I told mother to invite him. Can I leave you with him? There were supposed to be three plates of berry tarts, but I can only see two.” Still muttering, Milluqua smiled at Derrain and hurried off in a swirl of silk.

“You’re a fool,” Mhysra said, handing him a plate. “Brave, but ultimately foolish.”

He chuckled and picked up a chicken leg. “I thought you could use the company, and it would have been rude to refuse. Your mother’s never invited me inside before.”

“Maybe she’s proud of you.” Mhysra shrugged as they worked their way along the table, before taking their plates to sit out of the way. They were soon joined by her cousins, self-consciously balancing plates on their knees. Thanks to Milluqua’s attentive refilling of their wineglasses, though, everyone relaxed as the night progressed.

To Mhysra’s surprise, more than one Rider attended. Even Lieutenant Lyrai made an appearance. Mhysra thought that was brave after the speculations at the Midsummer ball, although now her mother’s egalitarian guest list began to make sense. Captain Myran, Lieutenants Stirla, Fleik and Imaino, Sergeants Honra and Rees also came, the latter not staying long, for which everyone was thankful.

In time a string quartet played for dancing and the addition of the Riders livened things up considerably. Laughing her way through the spirited supper dance with Lieutenant Stirla, Mhysra couldn’t remember when she’d last had so much fun at her parents’ house. If society affairs were more like this, she could almost reconcile herself to the life her parents demanded.

As Stirla led her off the floor, her hand was snatched up and gallantly kissed. “Lady Mhysra! You look radiant tonight.”

Breathless from the dance, she smiled at the handsome face. “Captain Torven! What a delightful surprise.”

“The generosity of Nimbys is famous, my lady.” He winked. “As are your family.”

Her smile faded as her parents and Milluqua approached, gathering their guests for supper.

Lady Kilpapan returned Torven’s bow with a polite nod. “I had no idea you were acquainted with my daughter, captain.”

“A recent pleasure,” he explained. “We encountered one another flying into Nimbys two days ago. My ship was honoured by the presence of so beautiful a Rift Rider.” He smiled flirtatiously and didn’t see her wince.

Nor did he seem to notice when Lord Kilpapan gripped her arm, preventing her from slipping away.

“Rift Rider?” Lady Kilpapan laughed smoothly. “My daughter is not a Rift Rider.”

Oblivious to the tension, the captain waved a dismissive hand. “Student, Rider, it’s all the same thing. Such a flyer and such a miryhl. The Riders are blessed to have her.”

“A noble sentiment,” Lord Kilpapan ground out between clenched teeth.

“We are lucky to have such a Wingborn,” a new voice agreed, and Mhysra blinked as Captain Myran joined their conversation. The presence of Lyrai and Stirla beside him explained everything, and she shut her eyes, dreading that her father would express his contempt. She’d never spoken to the captain before, but had heard so much about the near-legendary man, so to make his acquaintance under such circumstances mortified her. Staring at the floor, she waited for the storm to break.

“Women have no place in the Rift Riders,” Lord Kilpapan growled.

“In times such as these, my lord, there is a place in the Riders for any brave enough to try,” Myran corrected. “As Wingborn your daughter is a precious gift that should not be wasted.”

Her father’s hand tightened painfully and Mhysra locked her jaw to stifle a yelp.

“Sir,” Stirla murmured, and it was the earl’s turn to hide his pain as she was abruptly freed.

“There is no need for this, my lord,” Lieutenant Lyrai said softly, removing his hand from the earl. “You should be proud to have such a daughter.”

“Proud?” Lord Kilpapan spat, rubbing his wrist. “How can I be proud of -”

“Our youngest has always been wilful,” the countess interrupted with a flat laugh. “So we permit her follies in the hope that she will grow out of them. Is this not so, Mhysra?”

She forced herself to meet her mother’s cold eyes, aware that the entire room was watching them. This was not how she’d wanted to tell her parents, but as her arm throbbed and Milluqua’s hand slipped into hers with a squeeze of support, she realised the truth was already out.

“I know my duty,” she replied, licking her dry lips. “It is only right that I see it done.”

“Duty,” snarled her father, but his wife silenced him with a hand on his arm.

“Indeed,” Lady Kilpapan replied, her words clipped. “I am sure Aquila will welcome you with open arms as you do your duty. No Kilpapan has ever turned aside from what is right.”

“A fine sentiment,” Captain Myran murmured. “You have much to be proud of in your daughter, my lady. Both your daughters.” He nodded at Milluqua.

“Indeed,” the countess repeated, her smile not reaching her eyes. “The pride we take in our daughters is exactly what they deserve. I believe supper is being served.” She turned her husband away and led the guests into the dining room. Most departed slowly, glancing back at the tense group.

“Gods,” Mhysra whispered, shivering in her sister’s embrace. “Oh, Gods, they’ll kill me.”

“My lady.” Captain Torven touched her shoulder hesitantly. “Forgive me, I meant no harm. I thought they would be proud.”

“As they should be,” rumbled Captain Myran. “As any parent should be. There is no higher honour for a family than to have a child serve in the Rift Riders.”

“Our brother is already a Rider,” Milluqua explained, rubbing Mhysra’s back. “My father believes his service is sufficient for the family honour.”

“But your sister is Wingborn.” Myran turned to his lieutenants in confusion, perhaps seeking confirmation.

“My niece is Wingborn, but my sister is foolish,” Mhylla confirmed, emerging from the crowd to take Mhysra from Milluqua and hug her hard. “I’m sorry it came to this, sweet, but it’s better they know.”

“I didn’t want them to find out like this,” Mhysra murmured. “Not so publicly. They’ll never forgive me.”

“So dramatic, cuz?” Mherrin sounded amused. “Is that what they’ve been teaching you? High drama and tragedy? Just the thing for the Riders.”

She snuffled a laugh. “You pyrefliers are all savages. I wasn’t meaning to be dramatic.”

“If they cast you off, love, come to me,” her aunt said, taking her chin firmly in hand and forcing her to meet her eyes. “Wrentheria will always be your home.”

Mhysra bit her lip as her eyes filled with tears of gratitude. “Thank you,” she croaked, and turned to Captain Myran, dipping an awkward curtsey. “And thank you, sir, for defending me. Especially as we’ve never met. I’m more grateful than I can say.”

“And I, sir,” Milluqua agreed, echoed by her aunt and cousins.

Embarrassed, the captain waved a dismissive hand. “You may thank my lieutenants, since they provided me with all the pertinent details. And while we may not have met, Lady Mhysra, I have heard much about you. How could I not, with the stir you’ve caused? A female Wingborn. A miryhl the envy of all my Riders. A daughter of a noble house who has no need to join us in these troubled times, yet chooses to anyway. One who spends the entire Choice helping her friends pick out their miryhls. Oh yes, child, I have heard of you.”

She blushed. “You are too kind, sir.”

He smiled and patted her shoulder. “I’m never kind for the sake of kindness, Lady Mhysra. You’re one of my Riders now. Chin up, student, you’re family.” As a tear trailed down her cheek, he offered his handkerchief and his arm. “I believe supper is being served. Shall we?”

“I’d be honoured.” Smiling, she wiped her face and walked into the dining room with her head held high.

~ 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 13, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch13.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Now that we’re entering the second half I thought it was time for a few changes, so new chapter headings!

Oh, and some stuff about choosing miryhls, but blah, blah, blah, new pictures! ;)

Thirteen

30th Fledgling

Derrain was sweating, but given the milder temperatures of approaching autumn, he couldn’t blame the weather. Wiping his hands on his breeches, he took a deep breath and entered the temporary eyries. He’d wanted to visit ever since he had received his results five days ago, but hadn’t dared. Everyone said it was bad luck to see the miryhls before the Choice. Students who ignored the tradition were rumoured to make bad matches or have their partnership severed in nasty, abrupt ways before graduating from Aquila.

As a skysailor, Derrain had known many superstitions and this one was far too important to ignore. Somewhere inside a miryhl was waiting for him. He didn’t want to mess anything up.

“I can’t do it,” he murmured, looking around the crowd of students, Riders, civilians and miryhls. So many miryhls, positioned in individual, roped-off enclosures, their perches at ground level so that each eagle could see and be seen.

There were so many. How was he supposed to choose? “I can’t do it.”

“You haven’t even looked yet,” Mhysra said, clearly amused as she stood beside him.

“I’m looking now,” he replied. Shafts of sunlight poured down through the hatches, illuminating the busy scene. Fifty miryhls had been brought to Nimbys to match with thirty-two students and nine Riders. However, there were considerably more than forty people wandering around, viewing the spectacle, and more than one youngster looked as lost as he felt. Where did he even start?

“I really can’t do this.”

Rolling her eyes, Mhysra dragged him away from the crowded entrance. “You can’t see anything from here. Walk, and we’ll see what you can and can’t do.”

While Derrain was grateful to Mhysra for agreeing to help him, she didn’t understand. She’d grown up surrounded by miryhls, living with one as part of her family. For her this was normal. There were no life-changing decisions for her to make today.

However, as she led him around, commenting on build and temperament, he remembered why he’d asked for her help. Big, small, dark, pale, glossy, scrawny, she had something to say about each eagle, finding strengths and weaknesses that he’d never imagined. The eyries were full of students listening to Riders and their families, but none had an expert like Mhysra.

Derrain could only stare, wondering if this was the one, or that one?

How would he tell? Would it happen in an instant? Or was it more ordinary? Did he just pick the one he liked the look of most? If so, how would he tell? What was he looking for? What was he supposed to be looking for? While he might no longer think all miryhls looked the same, he still didn’t know how to see the best in them. They were miryhls – great, gods-blessed birds crafted out of necessity and dragon magic. What right had he to judge their worthiness?

“Hey, Mhysra! Derry! You both survived, then?”

Jolted out of his anxieties, Derrain spotted Mherrin inside the nearest enclosure. Dressed in the brown and tan of Wrentheria, he was here to help his mother and any passing stranger.

“More than survived, we passed with honours,” Mhysra told her cousin, warming Derrain with her pride and praise. She might have been younger than him, but in Rider terms she was the first person he sought approval from.

“Well done.” Mherrin gave Derrain a congratulatory backslap. “Now for your reward. Have you picked out yours yet? If it’s one of ours, we’ll reserve it for you. You’re practically family.”

Derrain could only shake his head at the overwhelming offer on such an overwhelming day.

“Steady on, Mherrin,” Mhysra said, squeezing Derrain’s arm. “We haven’t seen them all yet, let alone spotted any favourites. Not that he could go wrong with one of ours, but there are so many. More than I expected.”

“Don’t take too long,” Mherrin warned. “It’ll only get busier and it’s first come, first claimed. If you do want one of ours, Derry, and I’m not about, don’t fret. Mam, Mhylo and Mullia are all here. That’s if you’ve managed to shake this one off.” He tugged the end of Mhysra’s braid.

She slapped his hand away. “I’m helping him.”

“And I’m a pyreflyer,” her cousin mocked, looking smug.

Mhysra blinked and Derrain stared. “Are you?” they asked in unison.

Mherrin gave a tentative nod and was instantly engulfed by his delighted cousin. Grinning, Derrain managed to shake his hand and offer his own congratulations, before prising Mhysra off.

“Don’t get too excited,” Mherrin warned. “But it’s why I’m here. Mam talked Da into it. Training doesn’t start until Half-Year.” His cautious words were ruined by his grin. “Another half-moon. I can’t wait!”

They traded congratulations again, before Mhysra pulled Derrain away, admonishing her cousin for distracting them when they had important work to do.

Mherrin rolled his eyes. “If you need a better guide, Derry, let me know. She’s biased.”

“You’d pair him with a pyrefly,” Mhysra retorted. “Just because I prefer feathers over leather, doesn’t mean I’m biased. We’re Riders.”

“We’ll see.” With a final wave, Mherrin turned away to answer a curious student’s questions.

“Ignore him,” Mhysra muttered, linking her arm through Derrain’s. “I’ll help you just fine.”

He squeezed her arm. “I know you will. I wouldn’t have asked you else.”

“Come on then,” she ordered, and dragged him around the rest of the eyries.

When they’d completed the circuit and seen every miryhl on offer, Derrain was still no wiser. The pressure was giving him a headache and being surrounded by similarly panicked faces was not helping. The expectation in the building was enormous, enough to make anyone scream.

Apart from Mhysra. Standing near the entrance, she drank from a water flask and gossiped with her Aunt Mhylla, freshly arrived from filing the miryhl registration forms at the Rider offices.

“What will you do now?” Mhylla asked her niece, and Derrain wondered if his input was even expected. Perhaps they should make his Choice between them. They were far more qualified.

Mhysra shook her head. “I’d hoped a couple would catch his eye, but nothing yet.”

“What, not one?” Mhylla stared at Derrain, her dark eyes a sharp reminder of her countess sister, plunging him into memories of days aboard ship, scurrying like a rat to keep out of the way. She had the same commanding stare, determined set to her mouth and confidence in the merest twitch of her eyebrow. Formidable ladies the Wrentherin. “Don’t you have a list?”

Since she was asking him rather than Mhysra, Derrain snapped to attention. “No, ma’am. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

Mhylla sent Mhysra a chiding glance. “Everyone needs a list.”

Derrain shook his head, having never imagined having a miryhl. Becoming a Rift Rider wasn’t his lifelong ambition as it was for some. He’d only considered it since the announcement readmitting women to the Riders. Knowing Mhysra would want to try, he’d thought she might need a friend along for company. So he’d never thought about the kind of miryhl he wanted. Just as long as he had one.

Mhylla frowned, looking prepared to make the Choice without him. Which suited him fine. “He’ll need strength with that height and those shoulders.”

Mhysra nodded. “I know. Preferably calm, with endurance over speed. Derry’s got promise as a fighter and he’d choose pike over bow.”

“Stalwart soldier,” Mhylla agreed, gazing into the shadows. “Nothing too showy or cocky.”

Mhysra shook her head, smiling at him. “That wouldn’t fit. He doesn’t need a Cumulo.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock offence, even though he knew he wouldn’t be comfortable with a miryhl like Cumulo. Not that he didn’t like Cumulo, but his arrogance made Derrain constantly want to poke fun. It was vital that he had a miryhl he could get along with. That was true for everyone, though he doubted many realised it. He smiled at Mhysra, doubly glad she was helping him.

“I think I know the bird,” Mhylla announced. “Not one of mine, but I brought her down.”

When the two women strode off, chatting about a Lowland breeder Mhylla sometimes did business with, Derrain assumed he was supposed to follow. Their conversation didn’t mean much to him, but he didn’t mind. All that mattered was the miryhl they were leading him to, one that might become his. Personally recommended by the great Mhylla Wrentherin. He chuckled, wondering how many Rift Rider pairs could say that.

“Here.”

He blinked at the bird in front of him, wondering what made it different from a dozen others in the eyries. It was on the larger size, he noticed, with curiously pale eyes in a soft barley shade. Its feathers were glossy brown with a russet hue under sunlight, but its only distinguishing markings were the black tips to its wings and tail.

“Well, go on, make friends,” Mhylla encouraged, unhooking the barrier rope so that he could get closer.

Mhysra showed no fear crossing the unmarked line, holding out her hands and smiling as the bird lowered its head. “What a fine girl you are,” she greeted, raising her eyebrows at Derrain, silently questioning why he was standing on the walkway like a lummox.

With a deep breath, he cautiously approached the miryhl. She waited, the feathers on top of her head rising with interest, before she lowered her beak and rumbled. Years of observing Cumulo and Mhysra had taught Derrain a few things, so he gently tickled the eagle’s crest. It was warm and smooth.

“Her name’s Zephyr,” Mhylla said.

“Zephyr,” he repeated, and the miryhl rubbed her beak against his chest. She seemed friendly, which was all he could ask for as he stroked the exposed skin beneath her eye. Both dropped shut and she purred, the sound vibrating through her beak into him.

Growing more confident, he stroked over her face to her neck, fingers burrowing through the abundant feathers, silky soft and rippling beneath his touch. The miryhl raised her head, inviting him to stroke her chest, back and wings.

Dazed, Derrain explored the bird with his hands, having never had such an opportunity before. Cumulo didn’t like being touched without permission, so it was the first time Derrain had caressed glossy feathers or felt powerful flight muscles. His hand ruffled over her chest and her steady heartbeat pulsed against his palm. He was enchanted.

“Beautiful.”

“Yes,” Mhysra agreed. “She is.”

Zephyr chuckled, twitching her wings in embarrassment, and Derrain knew he had to have her. She was lovely, strong and humble. Bigger than Cumulo and built on sturdier lines, she looked comfortable. Which was how he viewed himself. Not too showy, nor too fine. She would be strong enough to put up with him and was sweet besides. What more could he ask?

When she turned towards him, he stared into her pale eyes and smiled. “Yes.”

At the edge of his vision he saw Mhysra grin as Mhylla rubbed her hands together. “I’ll fetch the paperwork.” Marking the slate outside the enclosure, Mhylla rummaged through her bag and handed him a stack marked with Zephyr’s name. “Test flights are tomorrow, bright and early. Mhysra, I expect you and Cue to lend a wing.”

“Of course.” She shrugged, unbothered by the announce, while Derrain felt as if the ground had tilted beneath him.

“Test flight?” he croaked, one hand still buried in Zephyr’s feathers.

Mhylla raised her eyebrows. “How else can we know if you’ll make a decent match or not? We don’t allow a preliminary bond on sight alone, you know. No one is quite that stupid.”

He blinked. That was yet another thing he’d not really thought about: flying. On miryhl-back. “I’ve never flown a miryhl before.”

Mhysra chuckled. “Not many have. You’ve flown bullwings and horsats, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” he agreed, but compared to a giant eagle his flights on leatherwings were meaningless.

“You’ll get used to it,” Mhylla assured him, patting his shoulder. “Now, I’d best get back to work. I’ll see you both later.”

While Derrain tried to wrap his mind around the changes sweeping over him, Mouse bounced out of the crowd. “Mhysra! Derry! Have you made your Choice yet? Not you, Mhysra, of course, you’ve already got Cumulo! Is this yours, Derry? There are so many! I never imagined there were this many miryhls in the world. Isn’t it amazing? I don’t know where to start. Are you done? Can you help me? What should I look for?”

Mhysra put her hands on his shoulders to stop Mouse’s jittering and raised her eyebrows at Derrain. “We’re done, aren’t we?” When he nodded, she turned to Mouse and started questioning him about what he wanted, what he’d seen and whether there were any he liked.

Ignoring the chatter, Derrain turned and tickled Zephyr’s head. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She blew softly on his face and rubbed his chest with her beak, then shoved him playfully away.

“I can take a hint,” he chuckled and, with a final disbelieving stroke of her silky feathers, he let Mouse sweep him up in his bouncing bundle of enthusiasm.

 ~ Next Chapter ~

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

A Bit of Me, Books, Overworld, Updates, Writing

Catching Up: Feb-May

Becca Lusher

As there isn’t a midweek Wingborn update this week (contain yourselves) and we’ve hit the halfway point in the book, I thought I’d catch everyone up on what I’ve been up to lately.

Bagtor Feb
Haytor from Bagtor Feb 2016

As the picture shows, I’ve been walking on Dartmoor a fair bit, when the weather allows. You’d never know from that particular picture that it was bitterly cold up there that day, with a wind blowing hard enough to almost knock me over! (Ignore the shape of the tree, it’s always like that. Growing on the moors tends to have that effect on the vegetation.)

It’s been a very strange start to the year in many ways, not least weatherwise, but now that May is here things seem to be settling down a bit. Especially when it comes to writing.

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve finished two books!

The first, Blazing Dawn, is an Overworld book, set a few centuries before Wingborn when women were still allowed in the Rift Riders and the dragons still interacted with humans. That’s where this series is set, the Dragonlands, where a certain fiery Blazeborn elder has been unhappily assigned as a delegate to the new human ambassador and her Rift Rider retinue.

Mini Khennik Blossom
Mini Khennik amidst the greengage blossoms

The dragon is called Khennik and he’s the sort of hero who if you’d asked him to save the world would say, “Not today, I’m busy.” But if you asked him to help his kin and Clan, would lay down his life before you finished the question. He’s contrary and grumpy, prone to bursting into flames, and I’m really rather fond of him.

Mini Dragons 1

Here Mini Khennik is hanging out with a few of his fellow Blazing Dawn characters on some pieces of Dartmoor quartz. Junior Archivist Reglian is the black and gold dragon, Elder Goryal is the little grey one, stony Estenarven is beside him, while poor watery Mastekh is lying off to one side. They all have their parts to play in the story, some more successfully than others, and there are plenty of Rift Riders to get to know too. Not least Nera, a young lieutenant out in the world for the first time.

You might also be able to tell that I’ve been playing with polymer clay a bit lately, but more on that some other time.

The second book I finished just last week. It doesn’t have a title yet, but it’s a Regency Romance! I love reading books in this genre and I’ve had a few ideas for my own over the years. I originally started this one almost ten years ago, but it’s been mouldering away, stalled at only three chapters ever since. I thought I’d give it another go and see if I could actually finish it – and I did! It’s still very rough and needs a lot of work, but it’s set in the country, has a rather put-upon heroine, a scarred up hero and some annoyingly cute kids running around. I had fun writing it, so I hope people will enjoy reading it. I’ll also be releasing it under a different name, but again, more on that some other time.

Aside from the fact that I’m really pleased to have finished these two books, they also have a couple of surprising things in common. They’re both old stories I started ages ago (Blazing Dawn didn’t even get past the first chapter), neither of them turned out at all like I expected, they’re both longer than I intended, and they’re both firsts in their own ways: my first completed Regency and the first time I’ve actually managed to finish a book with a dragon as the main protagonist. This last one is particularly surprising since I love dragons and have written a fair few over the years, but clearly they prove more tricky than I ever expect.

So, as you can see, writing continues apace. Over the next few months I’ll be polishing both books up and turning my attention back to the Aekhartain again. I’ll also be considering what I’ll do after the serialisation of Wingborn ends. I think I’d like to try it with something else, but I’ll be writing it as I go this time. I haven’t what decided yet, but I’m open to suggestion if anyone has anything they want to know more of.

In the meantime, I shall leave you with a final couple of pictures.

One of the things I love best about walking on Dartmoor at this time of year (or in the lanes closer to home, because I am very lucky) is hearing the skylarks. Their numbers are supposedly dropping nationwide, but you’d never know it if you walk regularly around these parts. Here’s one I spotted the other day when walking to Laughter Tor.

Laughter Skylark

It’s perched atop a prehistoric menhir, Loughtor Man, which stands at 2.4 metres tall.

Louden Man
Loughtor Man, April 2016

Apparently it once stood in the centre of a small cairn, with stone rows around it. Now it stands mostly alone, save for the occasional walker or skylark stopping by for a rest or to admire the view.

And on that note, I shall leave you all in peace. I hope the world and the weather is treating you kind wheresoever you may be. I shall be back soon with more Wingborn and perhaps a photo or two of places I’ve been along the way.

Merry midweek, everyone!

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 12, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch12.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

We’re halfway! And to celebrate, Lyrai’s getting a present. All brace for the Hurricane.

LYRAI WAS IN LOVE. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Not to mention the most frustrating. The last of the Storm Peak miryhls refused to enter the temporary eyries and, as part of that refusal, would not be caught. A brute of a bird, the eagle was almost as tall as Cumulo but wider across the chest. It looked powerful and fierce, hissing at anyone who came too close.

Riders made loops out of their ropes and tried to restrain it, but the miryhl was too quick. Surprisingly nimble, it skipped out of reach, catching the loop in its beak, before tossing it contemptuously back.

Lyrai smiled at its antics, seduced by the big creature’s grace. It was an unusual colour: deep brown and pale cream mottled in an extraordinary mixture. A marble miryhl. He’d heard of them and always thought they sounded ugly. Standing before such a magnificent specimen now, though, he could see only beauty.

The miryhl’s face was the shade of sun-warmed pine, with dark circles around golden eyes. The crown of its head was the same darkness, continuing in a broad stripe down its neck and across its back, running in bars along its wings. The feathers on the underside of its body and chest were marbled from white to a brown so dark it was almost black. The wings were cream and biscuit between the dark bars, running into brown at the tips. Delicate flecks of caramel, gold and black dotted its feathers, like sparkles and secrets.

Lyrai was infatuated. There was no doubt in his mind which miryhl he would choose come the Choice, but only if the Riders didn’t drive it off first with their ineptitude.

Stirla whistled beside him. “I’ve not been so impressed since I first saw Cumulo.”

Lyrai snorted. “As that was barely a half-year ago, forgive me for not swooning.”

“Ah, but before that,” Stirla said airily, “the last time I was this impressed was by Atyrn. Not that either’s a patch on my girl, of course. Cumulo thinks he’s too smart and this one’s a brute.”

They both studied the brute in question as it ducked a loop, only to be snared by one thrown from behind. The miryhl wheeled sharply, wrenching the rope from the Rider’s hand. The eagle shrieked and snapped at all within reach, stamping on the rope and worrying at it with its beak, but only managed to tighten the knot.

“That’s not good,” Stirla murmured, wincing at the miryhl’s scream. Catching a second rope, the bird yanked the offending Rider off his feet. Only a quick grab from his friends prevented the man from being dragged within the miryhl’s reach. “You might want to intervene.”

“Fools!” Lyrai snapped as the miryhl tangled its feet in the rope. “They’ll kill it before we even get to the Choice.”

“Which is where you come in,” Stirla said. “Off you go. Pull on your captain boots and prove your mettle, or whatever it is we’re supposed to be learning around here.”

Lyrai eyed him sourly, but didn’t even bother asking why his friend didn’t do something himself. Some things were not worth the bother of putting into words. Besides this was his miryhl – it was up to him to save it.

The eagle lunged again, tripping and splaying its gorgeous wings. The Riders pounced, eager to secure it while it was preoccupied. The miryhl panicked, trying to regain its tangled feet and flapping its wings to keep the intruders at bay. More than one flight feather was damaged as they were flailed against the ground.

Sergeant Rees stamped on the miryhl’s wing to hold it down while he attempted to put a rope around the bird. Rolling to the side, the miryhl slashed out with its feet, knocking Rees over and very nearly slicing him from neck to navel.

“Enough!” Lyrai roared, deciding it had gone too far. “Stand down! I order you to stop!”

Rees struggled to his feet and found himself facing a furious miryhl, while four Riders roped its wings. They tightened their grip as the miryhl struck, barely missing the sergeant.

The eagle screamed, strained and freed a wing, beating it frantically and damaging more precious feathers on the sun-baked ground.

“Stand down!” Lyrai shouted. “I said stand down! All of you!”

By now six Riders clung to the ropes on the miryhl’s left, while another three had managed to loop its neck, but at Lyrai’s bellow they reluctantly let go. Even Rees rolled clear in the face of Lyrai’s rage.

“Back away from the miryhl,” he commanded, keeping his voice low, trying not to distress the bird any further.

“You heard the lieutenant,” said an unexpected but much welcomed voice. Captain Myran had arrived. “Timpkins, throw that rope and I will tie you up personally and present you to this miryhl for breakfast.”

Rider Timpkins dropped the rope as though it burned, and the circle of men shifted back another six paces. Everyone waited, looking between the miryhl and the man behind Lyrai.

A broad hand squeezed his shoulder approvingly. “Proceed, lieutenant.”

Not taking his eyes from the panicked bird, Lyrai lowered his chin in a grateful nod. “Thank you, sir. Forgive me for not saluting.”

Captain Myran chuckled. “Formalities are taken as done, lieutenant. Now soothe that miryhl.”

Lyrai nodded again and took a tentative step forward. The miryhl hissed and Lyrai sank down, resting his weight on his haunches. “All right, my beauty,” he crooned. “Steady now.”

The miryhl cautiously folded its unbound wing, though it kept an alert eye on Lyrai’s creeping progress. When he got too close the eagle growled, flexing its free foot.

“Steady,” Lyrai murmured. “You’re in a tangle and need my help. I won’t hurt you, my fine one.” Keeping his voice soft, he continued praising the miryhl and creeping closer until he was within half a pace of the sharp talons. The eagle scraped the ground but didn’t strike.

“Good, that’s good,” he praised, reaching for the tangled rope. The miryhl flinched, as did Lyrai, and both froze. They sighed in unison when neither struck and Lyrai slid his knife from his boot, careful to let the eagle see what he was doing at all times. “We’ll soon have you free, friend.” Reaching for the ropes, he sliced through a third of the thickly woven width before the miryhl jerked.

“All right,” Lyrai crooned. “Think you can handle it now?”

Watching Lyrai warily, the miryhl stretched out. With a crack of that deadly beak, it snapped the rope.

“Good,” Lyrai whispered, pulling the bindings free and taking care not to touch the miryhl before it was ready. “There.” Tugging the last of the rope away, Lyrai hopped back as the bird rolled to its feet, but when it found its left wing still tied it shrieked in outrage.

“Watch out!”

Until now the Riders have been mercifully silent, but as one onlooker shouted the obvious the miryhl remembered it wasn’t alone and lunged for the nearest target.

Swallowing hard, Lyrai dropped to his knees, keeping his hands low and his head bowed. A puff of air caressed his cheek as the bird’s beak passed but didn’t make contact. Not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe, Lyrai waited, watching the shadow on the grass as the miryhl loomed over him.

Warm breath separated his hair, then touched his forehead, nose and chin, before a smooth beak rested against his cheek and chest. Lyrai barely had time to look up before he was flat on his back, the wind knocked from him by a hard shove.

Deep brown eyes glinted as the miryhl arched its neck and put them beak-to-nose. “Untie me,” it rasped, and though its voice was hoarse from its screams it was also clearly male.

Lyrai blinked, stunned at being spoken to so causally. He nodded. “Let me up first.”

Huffing, the miryhl moved back a pace, allowing Lyrai to roll to his feet and snatch up his knife. In the end he didn’t need it, the noose slackened beneath his fingers and the eagle was free. The big male swung his head to meet Lyrai’s gaze, nodded in thanks and launched, broad wings opening with a crack.

“Wait!” Lyrai called. Buffeted by the downdraft as the miryhl flew into the gathering dusk, he could only watch with envy as the bird powered away. Lyrai wanted this miryhl; no other would do.

“Congratulations, lieutenant.” Captain Myran watched the glorious eagle swirl around the mountainside. “You handled that admirably. I assume you have no need to wait for the Choice?”

Lyrai barely heard the praise – a rare honour from his captain that at any other time would have filled him with pleasure. “He spoke.”

“I noticed.” Myran sounded amused. “Perhaps when he returns you should take him to the Rider eyries. I don’t think he liked the look of the other one.”

“He spoke to me,” Lyrai repeated, not paying attention. “Without a ceremony or a temporary bond. Or anything.”

“Yes.”

“I want him. If he doesn’t come back, I’ll look for him.”

Captain Myran patted him on the shoulder. “He’ll be back.” When Lyrai still didn’t look at him, the captain turned away. “Come on, Stirla, let’s see how the other new arrivals are faring. Your fellow lieutenant’s a little preoccupied.”

Preoccupied was not how Lyrai would have put it, more like ensnared. It was as though by releasing the miryhl from the ropes, he’d entangled himself. For the briefest moment it had felt glorious. When the miryhl loomed over him, capable of killing with one blow, he hadn’t felt afraid. His heart had pounded, but not with panic, and when he spoke Lyrai felt as though Maegla Herself had smiled on him.

Now all he felt was anxious. What would he do if he didn’t come back? There wasn’t another miryhl on the entire Overworld that could compare. It was this one or none.

“You have to come back,” he whispered to the empty field. “You have to.”

So he waited, while everyone else got on with their lives in the warm summer evening. Kneeling like a supplicant before the gods, Lyrai remained on the flying field. The first stars opened their eyes above him and the moon climbed over the Cloud Sea. Oblivious to the passing time and growing numbness in his legs, all Lyrai could do was watch the spot where he’d last seen the miryhl.

A cool wind drifted over the grass, raising goosebumps on his skin, but he ignored it.

Until a soft voice murmured, “Still here?”

Not daring to look over his shoulder, Lyrai swallowed. “Yes.”

“Have you nowhere better to be?”

At the hint of amusement, Lyrai turned. A hiss of pain escaped as the blood flowed back into his legs and he flinched when the miryhl lowered his beak to rub them.

“I was waiting for you,” Lyrai said, when he felt able to speak. “I wasn’t sure you’d return.”

The miryhl straightened and tilted his head. “In some things we have no choice.”

Unsure how to take that, Lyrai attempted to stand instead. He had to do it in stages on his reawakened legs but, with a little help from the eagle, he finally stood on his own.

Rumbling with concern, the miryhl nuzzled him. “You must not wait again. I don’t like it.”

Smiling, Lyrai carefully stroked the feathers on the eagle’s head, relaxing when they rose and the bird purred his enjoyment. “I hope I’ll never need to.”

“Good.”

They fell silent as Lyrai tickled the miryhl’s head, uncertain how to proceed. This was new for him and he was at a loss over what to do.

“Must I sleep there?” the miryhl asked, nodding at the rickety structure built for the Choice.

He chuckled. “No.”

“Good.” The eagle sighed with relief and preened Lyrai’s hair. “It does not look safe.”

“It’s well enough,” Lyrai promised, enjoying the attention. “For a few days.”

The miryhl huffed, unconvinced, and bowed his head. “I am Hurricane.”

“Lyrai. Lieutenant Lyrai Henstrati Henrykran.”

And that was all they needed. Without another word, Lyrai showed his new miryhl to the Rider eyries and wondered whatever happened to ceremony and ritual, and whether they truly meant anything after all. It certainly felt better this way.

~ Next Chapter ~

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