Category: Writing

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Rift Riders: Chapter 1, Part 1

Becca Lusher

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First time reading? Find out more about the Wingborn series!

~ Previous Chapter ~

Back again, and this time I’ve brought along a familiar character or two to help things along.

This is my kind of end of year exam!

One
Aquila in Summer

Aquila
21st Sun Month, 787 CE
ALL WAS QUIET as Lady Mhysra Kilpapan, Wingborn and first-year Rift Rider student, crept down the bank. Around her, evergreen trees stood in silence, blocking out all but the strongest light. They marched up the mountainside in haphazard style, over all terrain – steep, shallow, rocky. Nothing stopped them from growing or shedding a pungent carpet of needles.

Mhysra was taking advantage of that carpet now to keep her footfalls quiet as she slithered from tree to tree. The woods might look and sound empty, but she knew better. They were out there. Waiting. Watching. Ready to take her captive.

Crouching behind some thick bracken, she edged sideways, senses alert. The bank was steep, but nothing that she couldn’t handle as she slipped down it, cursing the pebble avalanche rattling in her wake. Flattening herself against the nearest pine, she waited.

A branch snapped. The entire wood seemed to hold its breath and Mhysra hid behind a stand of ferns. They were over six feet tall but she didn’t dare crawl in amongst them: the slightest movement would give her away.

“See anything?” a voice muttered from the top of the bank.

“No. Could be a deer.”

The first person snorted. “How many deer have you seen up here?”

“I saw two herds last year,” the other retorted, sounding young and sulky, but then he was only a second-year. “These woods are littered with deer tracks. Stands to reason, doesn’t it?”

“Next you’ll be warning me about bears and wolves,” the first student mocked. “Let’s move on. There’s nothing here and I want to bag myself a couple of firsties.”

“Still sore over your capture last year?” his companion chuckled.

“As if you weren’t getting caught right beside me.”

Mhysra stayed in her crouch as the sounds of a tussle reached her, before the second-years continued in a more dignified manner. Even when they were out of hearing, she remained still, waiting for her heart to calm. Under the thunder of her pulse was a tingle of exhilaration. She was still in play, still in the forest, evading her hunters. This wasn’t so hard.

Grinning, she eased around the ferns and continued. She still couldn’t believe she’d almost completed her first year at Aquila, training school and home of the Rift Riders. That was why she was running around the mountainside, dodging other students. Because rather than sit the pupils down for dull examinations, Aquila preferred to assess their progress in more practical ways. Thus the hunt.

With most of the first-years still learning how to fly, not to mention handle their weapons, their role in the hunt was simple: prey. They were taken high into the valley above the citadel, where an enormous lake was surrounded by a thick pine forest, and turned loose. Two bells later the second-years were released to pursue them. The goal for the first-years was to reach the end of the valley without getting caught. The second-years’ task was to capture as many firsties as possible. It was up to each individual whether they worked solo, in pairs or teams.

In order to monitor everyone’s progress, and ensure that there was no foul play, instructors, officers, attendants, servants, tutors and off-duty Riders were scattered through the forest. Even ordinary folk from the town came up to keep watch. It was an annual event.

And the hunt was just the start.

The sun blazed hotly down as Mhysra reached the bottom of the ridge and the canopy overhead thinned. Here the undergrowth was littered with scrub, gorse and the occasional birch sapling. It made hiding easier, but each step was more perilous. With silence now impossible, she pushed on regardless. The end of the valley was in sight and a flock of miryhls waited beyond the finish line. They looked bored and irritated: their day had been nothing but dull so far.

Determined that would soon change, Mhysra sought out her Wingborn amongst the giant eagles and sighed with relief. Cumulo was close, his head raised, looking for her, knowing she would come. A group of Riders laughed and played cards in the shade while they waited for the first-years to arrive and claim their mounts. They also ensured that the birds remained under cover, away from the burning sun, while keeping away the worst of the midges. Swearing under her breath, Mhysra waved the flies away from her face and wished she’d stayed away from the water a little while longer too.

Fast approaching footsteps made her freeze. She darted her head around and threw herself into the gorse bushes, stifling yelps as the prickly branches seized her with glee. It was as good a hiding place as any since surely there weren’t two people on this mountain foolish enough to jump into gorse bushes.

Wriggling down to the ground and welcoming the respite from the midges, Mhysra crawled on her elbows until she could see the miryhl enclosure and watch the commotion.

A student – slender and red-haired – was sprinting as though a pack of pyreflies was after him. It was Jaymes, Mhysra’s regular sparring partner. His russet hair was dark with sweat, his shirt clung to his back and he was panting hard. Mhysra silently urged him on as four second-years broke from the woods, whooping at the chase.

One of them paused long enough to draw his bow, using a blunt arrow marked with paint. They didn’t fly very far, or very well, but Mhysra had already seen two students taken out by them. The second-year loosed, but Jaymes started running in lunges from side to side and avoided it with ease. The other boys fumbled at their packs and pulled out little cloth bundles, lobbing them towards the fleeing figure. Only a stumble saved Jaymes from the first, which burst in a shower of red dye, while the second missed altogether.

The drowsy miryhls looked up as the Riders gathered by the finish line, cheering the students on – some for the hunters, some for the prey. At Jaymes’ approach they unlatched the rope, while the second-years cursed and threw more bombs.

Jaymes lurched on, stumbling, one hand pressed to his side. The end was in sight. Less than six feet from the line a bumble sailed over his shoulder. It struck a Rider, who rolled his eyes good naturedly and caught Jaymes as he tripped into safety.

The Riders slapped him on the back and offered him water, while the second-years begrudgingly congratulated him before trudging back into the woods. No traps were allowed within fifty feet of the enclosure, in order to give the first-years a fighting chance. Mhysra estimated that she was just about within that distance. Still, it would be better to wait for the second-years to leave. No point making life difficult for herself.

With the hunters gone and Jaymes recovering, Mhysra wriggled out of hiding. Sneaking around a copse of silver birches, she debated whether to sprint for it or continue creeping and hope she didn’t alert anyone.

A distant crashing in the forest startled her and she sprang forward.

“Here comes another one,” a Rider chuckled.

“And more,” another agreed. “It’s all go now.”

The crashing behind grew louder and closer, but Mhysra didn’t dare look. The ground ahead was covered in clumps of grass, rocks, tree roots and shrubs. Moving quickly over it and keeping her feet was tricky.

Something whistled over her shoulder and she threw herself to one side as the bundle struck a rock, exploding in a burst of red dye. Rolling over her shoulder, she came easily back to her feet and ran on, checking for signs that she’d been hit. Her clothes were clean, or as clean as they could be after a day crawling through the forest.

“Duck!” a familiar voice yelled, and she bent down as a painted arrow bobbled overhead.

Using a hand to push herself upright again, she shook the sweat from her eyes as the cheering Riders opened the enclosure. She stumbled over a loose pocket of ground and swore. Another bundle flew over her head and yet another landed off to her right.

Each stride sent a jolt up her left calf, but she hobbled on, yelping as a strong hand seized her arm. It threw her across the line and she landed with an undignified thud. Her saviour thumped down beside her, chuckling as a bundle hit Mhysra’s knee and showered them both in red dye.

“Too late,” her rescuer panted, rolling onto his back. “You all right?”

Sitting up, Mhysra flexed her ankle and winced. “Just about,” she said, and smiled. “Thanks for the help, Derry. Appreciate it.”

Derrain fra Canlen, her broad-shouldered, good-natured, best friend grinned. “You were so close. Seemed a shame to let you lose.”

“Don’t get too comfy,” a Rider warned, offering them a drink. “Fun’s not over yet.”

Groaning, they accepted the water and crawled over to join Jaymes. He smiled weakly in welcome. “Did you two work together?”

Emptying the remains of his canteen over his head, Derrain shook himself like a dog. “No chance. I lost sight of her around midmorning. She moved too fast for me. I was with Mouse and Haelle. Haelle tripped an arrow trap around noon, while Mouse ran smack into a second-year just after. His leg was starting to play up, so he wouldn’t have stuck it much longer anyway. I’ve been running since.” He looked at Mhysra and raised his eyebrows. “What happened to Corin and Greig?”

She sipped from her canteen, shaking her head. “Corin got hit by an arrow, tried to keep going and ended up shouting at Lieutenant Stirla. Greig was so busy joining in that he missed a net dropping on him. I only escaped because I fell down a gully.” She pushed up her right sleeve and showed them the graze running the length of her forearm.

They hissed in sympathy and one of the Riders went to find something to clean it with.

“How about you?” she asked Jaymes.

“I was with Silveo,” he said, to no one’s surprise. The two North Point lads were born in the same village and had been inseparable ever since, even if Silveo was intensely studious while Jaymes was more active. The only time they didn’t pair up was when the instructors and teachers separated them. “He grew bored around midmorning and started cataloguing the different species of fern. Last I saw of him he was smearing his shirt with red dye and talking to Captain Fredkhen about gorse.”

They chuckled tiredly, while Rider Theryn arrived to patch up the worst of their scrapes and bruises.

“Has Dhori been through yet?” Mhysra asked him as he washed her graze.

Theryn grinned. “First in and skipped off before the third-years even left the eyries.”

“I don’t know why he even bothers pretending to be one of us,” Derrain grumbled. “I could have sworn he’d done all this before.”

“And then some,” the Rider agreed. “If he wasn’t so young, I’d think him a captain.”

The students thought about it, then Jaymes shrugged. “At least he’s on our side.”

“True,” Theryn chuckled, with a last swipe over Mhysra’s arm. “All done. You can go.”

Though it was tempting to remain beside the lake, Mhysra’s day was only half done. “Come on,” she said to the boys, batting away a cloud of midges. “Time to make the third-years work.”

The amused Riders wished them luck and returned to their card game.

~ Next Chapter ~

Thanks for reading.

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Rift Riders: Prologue

Becca Lusher

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At last, the moderate wait is over.

Rift Riders is Book 2 of the Wingborn series. This is a twice weekly serial updated every Friday and Sunday, and if you missed the first one, you can still read it for free. It’s a high fantasy world with giant, talking eagles, Regency-esque manners, a YA protagonist and lots and lots of clouds.

Book 2 starts about six months after the first one ends, with Mhysra and friends having just completed their first year at Aquila. But before we get to any of that trouble is brewing in the Wrathlen and a new world player is about to step onto the stage…

Appropriate snacks at the ready, people, we’re going in!

Prologue

Kincarg, the Wrathlen
23rd Feather Month, 787 Cloud Era

THE WIND WAS bitter as it whistled across the top of the Wrathlen and crept into the crevices. Down below all was dark, while the sky above frowned with rain clouds. Everywhere was cold, but it was always cold here, even in the middle of summer.

Out of the grey sky, six kaz-naghkt approached, leathery wings beating in time, wiry arms taut with the strain of keeping a fur-lined cocoon aloft. They struggled to hold steady as winds buffeted them from all directions, roiling off the tumultuous Stormwash. But the pouch hanging beneath them remained smooth. Even when the right rear kaz-naghkt dropped its rope and collapsed on the landing crag, the other five took the extra strain and lowered it cautiously onto the rocks before allowing themselves to rest.

Panting, bone ridges flushed with exertion, the lead pair gently unwrapped the pouch, pulling leather strings and peeling back padded layers, each one marked with a series of breathing holes. Fleece blankets came next, followed by another leather cocoon. No matter how tight the knots, or how many growls of frustration the kaz-naghkt emitted, they never once lost patience or used their sharp wing spurs to rip or sever the cords. Even shaking with cold, they treated each layer as something unimaginably precious. At last, the pouch stirred on its own and the kaz-naghkt stepped back, taking up guard positions around it.

Which was just as well, because their arrival had drawn a crowd. Wary and suspicious, the inhabitants of the Wrathlen waited at a cautious distance, weapons ready, to see what the kaz-naghkt had brought. The crowd was entirely human, wrapped up against the chill, though the quality of their garments varied from the plushest furs to the cheapest wool. No one spoke, though many shivered. They stared at the kaz-naghkt and the kaz-naghkt stared back.

The pouch shifted, leather laces hissing as they were pulled from their holes, and the blankets loosened. A hand emerged, encased in fleece gloves, followed by an arm, then a head covered with thick waves of blue-black hair. The man looked up, pale barley eyes taking in his audience as he stretched and emerged from his cocoon, the only creature on the Wrathlen not shivering.

A sly smile curved the corner of his mouth as he stood between his kaz-naghkt guards.

“Take me to your leader,” he announced, eyes narrowing with amusement. “I believe she is expecting me.”

~ Next Chapter ~

Thanks for reading!

Books, Overworld, Serial, Updates, Writing

It’s Rift Riders Weekend!

Becca Lusher

As promised, the second Wingborn book is about to begin! And will continue over the weekend as I post the prologue and complete first chapter in all the usual places.

Before I get into all that, though, I’ll be making a few changes this time around.

  1. No Wednesday updates.
    The main reason why I’m serialising this book rather than sitting on it for a few months and releasing it whole is because I need time to work on the next few Dragonlands books before spoilers start showing up. But although this book is almost the same length as Wingborn, it has fewer chapters. Since I think I’ll need more than twenty weeks to get going, I’m afraid it’ll be twice weekly updates only this time around.
  2. No Cloudy Chapter Headings.
    This is mostly down to laziness on my part. Also, I’m pretty much out of good photos I can turn into Overworld scenes. Besides, this book is not peaceful and I’d really need some Aquila images. Which I don’t have. So no headings, not that I think anyone will care but I thought I’d say it anyway.
  3. Available for a limited time only.
    Unlike Wingborn, which I plan to leave up for free for the foreseeable future, as well as in free ebook format, I do plan to charge for Rift Riders eventually. This means you’ll get the serial for free, but I’ll be taking it all down a month after I’ve reached the end. Then I’ll release the ebook. I’ll put out warnings and reminders before I remove it, but try not to leave it too late.

Other than that, this should all go much the same as the last book did. Except with more action and cliffhangers, because Stuff Happens in this book.

Oh, here, have a blurb:

Rift Rider Cover 8On a world cursed to be covered in clouds, protected by the elite Rift Riders who fly on the backs of giant eagle miryhls, Lady Mhysra Kilpapan and her friends are making history. Women are now firmly back within the Rider fold and the future looks bright.

But even though Mhysra and her Wingborn Cumulo have survived their first year as students, there’s more to becoming a Rift Rider than lessons and training. Especially when trouble is brewing in the Wrathlen and the kaz-naghkt are looking for revenge.

Return to the Overworld for the next exciting Wingborn adventure, where strength, loyalty, honour and friendship are about to tested to their limits – and beyond.

The Wingborn ebook is coming too, I promise. I had hoped to have it ready to go this weekend, but these last three weeks have been largely spent being invaded by family. Which is never a bad thing, because I love getting to see my family, and playing with my nephews and nieces is always awesome, but it does diminish my free time just a tad.

However, next week will be free, so I intend to whip Wingborn into shape and set it free into the world as soon as possible. Then, finally, I can turn my attention to Storm Rising, because one of the new characters has headed off in a totally new direction while I wasn’t paying attention, and I have no idea what they’re up to. Esten has also decided that he will be one of the POV characters in this book, which… should prove interesting.

They’re supposed to be passing through this one not very interesting place before heading to the Dragon Moot so deals can be struck and Khennik can get the help he needs, but something warns me that all the interesting stuff is going to happen in the dull places, while the Moot will be really boring.

Urgh, dragon wrangling. Why did I ever think writing them was a good idea?

Well, enough with the wingeing. I have Rift Riders to post and another weekend with family up ahead. Here’s hoping you have something equally enjoyable to look forward to!

 

Books, Updates, Writing

The Last Link (and Wingborn Shorts)

Becca Lusher

Blazing Dawn Cover 2

Barnes and Noble have finally joined the Blazing Dawn party. Yay!

I’ve had a pretty busy week in which I managed to write about 700 words of Storm Rising before my brain shut down mid-sentence. Next week looks to be pretty busy too, but hopefully I can get back to it after that and finally make some sense out of it. Thus far this seems to be a flying book. I have three and a half chapters and it’s all flying, all the time. I’m hoping to change that in the next chapter, because I have some pretty amazing locations that need exploring. There may also be a baby dragon… called Rhiddyl. (If you one of the few who read the original Rift Riders back on Elfwood, yes, that Rhiddyl. As a baby!)

As for Wingborn news, well, I need to carve out some time for edits, but so far I have three requests for short stories and, me being me, I want to write all of them. I’ve already finished one and have little doubt I’ll throw over all the other things I’m supposed to be doing and scribble down the other two soon. I’m still open to requests, if anyone desperately wants to know something about the Wingborn bunch.

So far, the ones I have are:

  • Cumulo and Hurricane’s first meeting (written – about 3.5K)
  • A survival lesson with Stirla
  • When Stirla met Lyrai (done – about 3.5 K)
  • Milli and Stirla romance (old tale – about 5.5K)

When they’re done I’ll post them in various places for people to read, hopefully before the start of Rift Riders. Although that’s creeping up on me quite quickly, so I might not manage it. Nevertheless, they will appear.

In the meantime, merry Sunday, everyone!

 

Books, Overworld, Writing

A Lecture on Dragons

Becca Lusher

Also known as Blazing Dawn: Chapter 1, Part 3. In which we meet the ambassador and she makes a few important points very clear before the humans go off to meet the dragons.

If you missed them, click Part 1 and Part 2 to catch up.

“AH, LIEUTENANTS. PLEASE, sit down and forgive this rather late request for a meeting.” Ambassador Jesken waved a hand in welcome without looking at either of them. That was because even the slightest twitch of her head made her maid twitter in protest, since she was working hard to ensure the ambassador’s wealth of curly brown hair was arranged just so.

Following Anhardyne across the room, Nera stared in fascination as the little maid tucked and crimped and pinned, transforming the ambassador’s usual messy bun into a stunning confection of loops and swirls and shining silk, all held in place with delicate gold net and diamond pins. As remarkable as the performance was, the result also turned the ordinary, plain-faced woman with an air of amused command into a dignified lady of wealth and stature. All because of a hair-do. Nera was most impressed.

“I know we have spoken often this last moon and a half about what to expect over the next five years, but there are two final topics I need to address before our arrival.” Regardless of her looks, Ambassador Jesken had a beautiful voice, rich and mellow, rolling with only the slightest hint of her Etherian origins. “Being as they are also the most personal, I had hoped to discuss them over dinner tonight, but as you can see, events have overtaken us somewhat.”

She waved a plump hand towards the wide window that allowed them a perfect look back over the glowing Cloud Sea, now peppered with forested islands and hints of stone buildings. The best view of this moment would have been found at the front of the ship, but still, even from the stern, the sight was breathtaking.

A flurry of squeaks drew Nera’s attention away from the window, realising that she hadn’t been the only one who’d turned to stare. The ambassador’s eyes crinkled with humour as she apologised to her maid for moving her head. Then she looked at the women in front of her again.

“There is little about our role here that you do not already know, and both Captain Wellswen and Commander Bethnelm assure me that you are each fine Riders, well-versed in etiquette and dragon behaviour. However, there is one topic that the books do not discuss: sexual relations.”

Nera felt her eyes widen, while beside her Anhardyne choked.

The ambassador smiled. “Indeed. My own initial reaction to the subject was much like yours. They are so much bigger than us, of course, and an entirely different species. But you will find that, inside their own lands, dragons are a little different to the ones we glimpse at a distance in our cities. The ones we do meet in their human forms tend to be the highest ranking officials, ones who have little interest in humans beyond political negotiations. Which is why they were chosen, of course. Things are a little different here.”

As the maid stepped back with a sound of satisfaction, Jesken thanked her and dismissed her to finish packing. “As you will soon discover, dragons are quite sensuous creatures, curious too. They can be rather flirtatious and are not afraid to touch. A new influx of humans is quite a novelty and you will find yourselves the centre of attention for quite some time.

“For the most part this curiosity is harmless. However, dragons can also be quite alluring. It is perfectly understandable to be drawn to them and personal relationships, while not encouraged, are not expressly forbidden either. Humans are a novelty to dragons, and they do not always take as much care with us as they should, but as long as you are aware of this, and make sure that your partner is also aware, little harm should be done. Provided that your partner is thoughtful.”

The ambassador’s smile was soft, her gaze distant as if recalling fond memories. Then she cleared her throat and fixed them with a stern gaze once more. “There are a few risks that rise alongside the obvious physical disparities. Some humans, for example, experience strange reactions on contact with certain dragons’ skin. No one is quite sure why, or who will be effected, but it can be treated with the right herbs and lotions and is something to bear in mind. The reaction can range from a small rash to something quite painful and debilitating, and may not be obvious on first contact. A good dragon lover will be aware of such possibilities and provide you with adequate care, but please know that myself and Captain Wellswen are always here if you need us.”

She settled back in her chair, taking on the same stance that Nera had grown familiar with during their journey: a lecture was coming. “But there is another, much greater risk to be found when lying with dragons. Despite the differences between a human and a dragon, when a dragon takes on a human form, they do so in all ways. Some trick or slip of magic means that when you lie with a dragon in human shape, you face the same risks you would with any human male.”

Anhardyne was the first to make the connection. “Do you mean pregnancy?” Her forehead scrunched in a frown. “We could end up having dragon babies?” The incredulous squeak of her voice made Nera smile.

Ambassador Jesken’s lips also twitched. “In theory, yes, though it is doubtful that you would carry any offspring to term. Dragon pregnancies are long and arduous. A female dragon will gestate her egg for a considerable period even before laying it and leaving it to incubate.”

“We’d have to lay an egg?” Anhardyne sounded horrified, and Nera didn’t blame her.

This time the ambassador chuckled. “No, no egg laying, just an excessively long pregnancy that will likely end up with a still born child and an infertile mother.”

Which sounded worse than trying to lay an egg.

“Human and dragon blood doesn’t mix well,” Ambassador Jesken continued firmly. “Just well enough to create a spark of life, one which burns up all too quickly. Best for all involved if you never fall pregnant in the first place.”

She would get no argument from Nera on that point – nor Anhardyne either, if her expression was any indication of her thoughts.

“So you’re saying we should stay clear of bedding dragons?” the older lieutenant asked, shifting in her chair.

Jesken smiled. “It is probably the safest course, yes, but I believe there are herbs that take care of such things. Slightly different to ones you may already use, but easy enough to obtain if necessary. You should investigate all the options thoroughly before taking any risks – should the opportunity arise.”

While Anhardyne looked thoughtful, Nera wrinkled her nose. It was unlikely that she would ever need such knowledge, especially when Anhardyne was close by. Her friend was golden and beautiful, bound to draw attention wherever she went, while Nera was small and plain and quiet and far too easily overlooked. Which was how she preferred things.

“I must also warn you about your hair.” The ambassador reached up a hand, as if to check that her elaborate arrangement was still in place. “When assuming a second form, most dragons take a human shape, but because they are more akin to reptiles and birds, hair does not come naturally to them. The most skilled and powerful dragons can produce a small amount of hair, but it tends to be short and straight and of only one shade. The prospect of curls and many colours absolutely fascinates them. Lieutenant Fennik will become very popular.”

“Fennik?” Anhardyne laughed incredulously at the mention of one of her Riders. “But he’s a squashed-nosed bruiser, with hair so short you can hardly see what colour it is. Except brown.”

The ambassador’s smile was indulgent. “The dragons won’t care what his face looks like. His hair may be short, but you can still see a hint of red amongst the brown. I’ve no doubt that before the first moon of our trip is through someone will have convinced him to grow it long, just to see what else is hidden in there. As for you, Lieutenant Anhardyne, you’ll be flooded with offers before nightfall. If you’re not careful, a bidding war might commence.”

“Bidding war?” Anhardyne echoed, startled. “For my hair?” She pulled the long braid over her shoulder and wrapped it around her hand, staring critically at it. “But why?”

“Wigs,” Nera answered before the ambassador could. Having spent her childhood watching her mother dance for the greatest courts across the Overworld, Nera had learned at a young age how a different hair colour could add surprise and a sense of the exotic to any performance with very little effort. “Your golden mop could make a fine few wigs, Hardy.”

“Indeed.” Jesken nodded in agreement. “Whether or not you choose to sell will ultimately be up to you, of course, lieutenant. However, try not to make any decisions for a good few days. I have a list of reputable names for if you do wish to sell, but either way, you will need to pay close attention to your hair tonight.”

While Anhardyne sat there blinking, Nera smiled at the ambassador. “I’ll remember for her, Your Excellency, thank you.”

Jesken smiled back, but didn’t extend the warning to Nera. And why should she? Nera’s hair was short, thin, stick straight and dull black, with nothing about it to interest any dragon whatsoever. Not when Anhardyne and Fennik were around anyway, and especially not when she considered all the other Rift Riders they travelled with, whose hair included near-white blonds, vibrant reds, myriad brunettes, a deep black with an almost blue shine, rich thickness and curls glorious enough to make a temple dancer weep. Even the ambassador’s hair was blessed with abundant curls, though the shade was a non-descript brown.

A brisk knock on the door interrupted Nera’s depressed thoughts and Captain Wellswen stepped inside without waiting for permission.

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Excellency, but I’ve come to reclaim my lieutenants.”

Nera eyed her captain’s wealth of dark, intricate braids, currently tied back in a simple knot, and wondered how much a dragon would be willing to pay for them. Not that Wellswen would sell. Mistrunan braids were gifts from friends and lovers, each design unique and highly personal to the wearer.

Oblivious to her lieutenant’s thoughts, the captain nodded at her Riders. “The miryhls are assembling on the foredeck,” she said. “Leave your luggage in your cabin to be taken care of and get yourselves in the air with your flurries.” Pausing only to brush her fingers across her forehead, in a semi-respectful, non-military salute to the ambassador, Captain Wellswen strode out again. Brisk and brusque and busy as always.

“Well,” Jesken chuckled, standing up. “Time you were off then. Thank you for your patience, lieutenants, and luck go with you. I shall see you at dinner.”

Scrambling out of their seats to bow, Anhardyne and Nera mumbled their agreement and hurried out of the door. The corridor was awash with Riders gathered around the ladders that led to the upper deck. While the captain and embassy servants would remain on the ship with the ambassador, it was up to Nera and the three other lieutenants to fly their twenty-five Rider strong flurries across to the palace and settle into whatever accommodations the dragons had provided for miryhls and humans alike.

As they awaited their turn for the ladders, Anhardyne smiled at Nera and raised her eyebrows. “So, Half-Pint, we’ve arrived at last. Ready to meet some dragons?”

Squashing a burst of anxiety into the pit of her stomach, Nera took her place on the ladder and summoned up a confident smile. “I’m ready.”

At least she hoped she was, as she climbed up to the deck where fifty giant miryhl eagles awaited their Riders, with fifty more already in the air. It was too late now to be otherwise.

Still want more?
Then click this way and find out where you can buy it
and read the whole thing at your own merry pace.

I hope you enjoy it!

Books, Overworld, Writing

Blazing Dawn is Out! (Snippet #2)

Becca Lusher

Blazing Dawn Cover 2To celebrate the release of Blazing Dawn, and to make all the spamming seem worthwhile, here’s the second part of Chapter One.

If you missed the first part, you can find it here, where you’ll meet Rift Rider Lieutenants Nera and Anhardyne.

Now it’s time to introduce Elder Khennik kin Blazeborn Clan Sunlord, who is feeling very grumpy. You’ll also meet his lovely, if excessively nervous, aide Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight.

A fire dragon and a water dragon? What could possibly go wrong? ;D

“ELDER B-BLAZEBORN. ELDER B-BLAZEBORN?”

Khennik kin Blazeborn Clan Sunlord sighed and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. Ringed by hanging fronds of fragrant seisflowers, the sun was perfectly framed by the circular opening, pouring its life-giving warmth over his bare head. Seated in the brilliant spot cast upon the floor, Khennik had been deep in meditation, dreaming of his home far to the west, where the clouds were thin and the mountains dry. Every breath there tasted of dry heat, stoking the fire that ran through his veins, where to fly was to bathe in Father Sun’s glory.

“Elder B-Blazeborn?” The voice this time was much closer, even more timid than before and full of apology.

Khennik glanced towards the irritant with narrowed eyes. “What is it now, Mastekh?”

Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight sweated with nerves as he stood on the edge of Khennik’s precious sunlight. Barely past his change time, the youngster had only just mastered a human shape, though his skin was blue-grey instead of a more acceptable shade, his hands were clawed and he wore scales instead of clothes. Merely being in Khennik’s annoyed presence loosened what little control Mastekh had and a soggy tail uncoiled behind him.

Trying not to snap at such a poor showing of focus, Khennik closed his eyes again and lifted his face towards the sunlight. “You will have to work harder than that, wingling, before the humans arrive. Else you will unsettle them and be asked to leave.”

If it were up to Khennik the youngster would have been long gone. Whoever had decided to pair a nervous Rainstorm dragon with a Blazeborn elder, not well known for his patience, was a fool indeed. Yet it was a rule between the kins and Clans that youngsters had to gain experience with others outside their own, especially those opposed to their nature. To toughen them up, the Starshine elders claimed. Khennik thought it was all rather cruel, when he thought of it at all.

“That’s j-just it, Elder B-Blazeborn,” Mastekh stuttered, his voice turning bubbly – a clear indication that he was about to lose his hold on his form altogether and revert to dragon shape.

Khennik’s eyes flashed open in a glare. “If you’re going to liquidate, do it outside.” The only water he permitted in this sunroom was for the plants. Everything else took too long to dry, and if he had to see to it himself the flowers might not survive. Which would put him quite out of temper.

Gulping nervously, Mastekh clenched his clawed-hands together and stared at the ground for a long moment. A shudder rippled over his scales and skin, the blue shade darkening as more water dripped from his nose and elbows, but he finally mastered himself.

“Ap-p-pologies, elder,” the young dragon whispered, lowering his head as if expecting a beating.

Khennik had never been one for physical punishment. He sighed. “Fetch a cloth and clean up after yourself, then leave me be. I have too much preparation to do for the arrival of our human guests’ tomorrow to be disturbed now.” If meditating and brooding over his poor fate could be considered preparation. Which in Khennik’s book it definitely could.

Humans were useless. Once they arrived they would need constant supervision and support, leaving him no time for anything other than irritation at their hopelessness. A foolish task for a Blazeborn, especially one with as important a mission as his.

“N-not tomorrow, Elder B-Blazeborn,” Mastekh squeaked, wringing his hands so hard that yet more water dripped onto the beautifully dry floors. “N-now.”

“What?” Khennik snarled, losing patience as he opened his eyes yet again. “Stop this brookish babbling, Mastekh, and speak clearly.”

“The h-humans are er-er-early, elder,” the Rainstorm dragon bubbled in a rush. “By a whole d-day. They’re h-h-here. Now!”

With that Mastekh lost all control, bursting out of his human form and leaving a large, soggy dragon drooped pathetically across the floor and a completely sodden elder glaring at the mess.

Still want more?
Oh, very well.

Chapter 1, Part 3

Or click here to find out where you can buy it!

Books, Overworld, Writing

Blazing Dawn

Becca Lusher

Blazing Dawn Cover 2

Nera has been fascinated by dragons all her life. Now, as a Rift Rider Lieutenant, her chance to see them up close has come. The appointment to spend five years as an escort to the human ambassador seems like the ultimate honour and gift, but the dragons she studied in training don’t come anywhere close to the reality awaiting her inside the Dragonlands.

Elder Khennik kin Blazeborn Clan Sunlord has no interest in humans. Thanks to the Cloud Curse that their kind brought down upon the Overworld, Khennik’s kin are close to losing their ancestral desert homelands forever. When he’s assigned as a delegate to the humans upon their arrival, he can’t believe his bad luck. Unlike some dragons, he has no wish for more power or responsibility, but he can’t seem to avoid collecting them. From his desperate kin to his nervous aide, right along to the useless humans, Khennik dreams of the day when he can return to his desert home.

Regardless of personal dreams and opinions, both humans and dragons are about to learn that they often have more in common than they might think or wish. And when trouble descends, the true friends you can count on have little to do with species – and everything to do with spirit.

Available now!
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Read on for the first part of Chapter One!

Continue reading “Blazing Dawn” →

Books, Overworld, Updates, Writing

What Now?

Becca Lusher

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 24, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch24.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

So we come to it at last…

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

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

Aquila had come to honour their dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gone, but never forgotten.

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

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

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

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

Until then, thank you so much for reading.

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 24, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch24.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

Also known as: The One With The Awkward Conversation.

Twenty Four

 13th Thaw

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mhysra stayed by the window, knowing what was coming.

“What did you think you were doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he called her reckless?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowned, confused. “Why would I?”

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

The lieutenant glanced away. “Nonsense.”

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

“I didn’t see him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finally, something we can agree on.”

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

“Well?”

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

“Peacefully?”

“He was smiling when I left.”

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

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

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

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