Tag: Cumulo

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 17, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch17.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Aquila, at last!

THE RAIN WAS torrential as the two skyships docked by the eastern spur outside Aquila. Wide caves offered enough room for the ships to wait out the storm in safety and comfort. For the students and Riders, though, the journey continued.

Waiting by the cave mouth with Cumulo, Mhysra stared at the rain and for the first time ever wished she didn’t have to fly.

“You were the one desperate to come,” her miryhl grumbled, as she secured her hat.

She grimaced and ignored him, looking back at the transport being set up for the students. Each boat seated fifteen and was carried by four bullwings. With Dhori and Mhysra flying in by miryhl that left two boats of students and two of baggage, along with thirty free miryhls.

“I’m so glad I’ve got you,” she told Cumulo, scrambling into the saddle as the students filled the boats. None of them looked happy. Nor did the Riders who had to herd a flock of miryhls through the rain.

Only one person looked cheerful: Dhori. Seated on Latinym’s back, the student’s eyes were fixed on the hammering rain, his mouth curved in a delighted smile.

“There’s something not right about him,” Cumulo murmured, and Mhysra chuckled. Dhori was strange, in a pleasant way. Usually she liked storms, but not for flying through.

“You said you wanted more adventure, Cue.”

“Must have been moulting.”

“Riders, move out!” Lieutenant Stirla ordered, and four Riders took off with six free miryhls. Next, Stirla escorted the first boat with Rees in support, then more miryhls, followed by Lieutenant Lyrai and Honra with the second boat. Dhori and Mhysra were with the third batch of miryhls, while Captain Myran oversaw the supplies and remaining miryhls.

She hunched against Cumulo’s back and they dived into the rain. Both winced at the slap of wind and water, but they’d flown through enough bad weather to settle quickly. Dusk was sweeping in as the storm poured down the side of the mountain. Flashes flickered in the gloom, illuminating the white citadel and lighting their way home.

Latinym swept alongside. “Maegla welcomes us!” Dhori whooped as thunder boomed.

“Cracked as an egg,” Cumulo grumbled, flapping hard as the cold waterfall disturbed the air.

With the storm getting ever closer, the miryhls didn’t spare the time to circle upwards and took the harder route flying straight to the top of the falls. As they got closer to the enormous structure spanning the river, Mhysra realised the bridge was riddled with holes. The bullwing boats went over the top, but the miryhls darted through the hatches into the dry, if not the warmth. It was an antechamber to the eyries, where miryhls could be handled without disturbing the rest of the flock.

“Brr,” Cumulo shivered, landing and fluffing out his feathers. “Call this a welcome?”

Mhysra hopped off and Dhori did the same, quickly untacking their miryhls and gathering drying cloths. Rumpling her big miryhl, Mhysra praised his bravery while the storm snarled ever closer. Attendants appeared to take care of the new miryhls and the air was full of greetings between Riders.

“New miryhls, follow me!” a booming voice commanded, even louder than Stirla’s.

Mhysra peered around Cumulo’s wing in time to see a tall Rider climb a ladder into the eyries above. “Better go,” she urged her miryhl. “It’ll be warm in there.”

Cumulo rubbed his beak against her, then flapped after the Rider. Hurricane swooped in just ahead of him and Mhysra winced, hoping Cumulo wouldn’t cause trouble. The rest of the new miryhls jostled after them.

“We’ll have trouble with those two,” someone chuckled, and she turned to the man dressed in an everyday Rider uniform of brown and black. His voice seemed vaguely familiar, his accent crisp with a hint of the Lowlands. Then a flash of lightning lit the room and the Rider’s face.

“Kilai!” she shrieked, jumping into her brother’s arms.

Laughing, he lifted her off the ground. “Welcome to Aquila, brat.”

“Kilai,” she murmured as he put her down, unable to tell him how much she’d worried, fearing he wouldn’t want to know her. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

“Aye, brat, me too,” he said carelessly, ruffling her hair and picking up Cumulo’s tack. “Come on. I’ll show you where to store this so it’ll get cleaned, then we’ll settle you in.”

Wiping her face and hoping people would think it was just the rain, she shouldered her pack and called for Dhori. Then she looked at her brother again and smiled. “Let’s go.”

* * * * *

THE CITADEL LOOKED just the same as Lyrai followed his captain from the eyries. He stopped when they crossed the bridge, unable to help himself. It was tradition for returning Riders to pause by the great window to look at the view. Straight ahead the mountain ridges fell back, leaving nothing but clouds and sky. Even shrouded by a storm the scene was breathtaking. Lightning snaked across the darkening day and the horizon was a distant line of crimson-tinged gold. Thunder shuddered through the citadel as the sun surrendered to the night.

Smiling, Lyrai bent over the sill and, heedless of the rain, stared at the surging Aquatai Falls. This was the glory of Aquila: a sheet of roaring water tumbling into the cloudy abyss. Buildings clung to the cliffs on either side as though they had grown from the rocks. Lightning flashed, reflecting off the aqueducts that rippled along each street. On the right were the homes of the tradesmen and women who worked for the citadel and to the left were the barracks.

Aquila: home of the Rift Riders. Lyrai adored it.

Turning from the window, he ran a hand over the smooth stone and followed the others. Unlike the new students, off to eat before being shown to their rooms, he had an appointment. Life for students would begin in the morning, but for the Riders work carried on.

“Pleased to be home?” Stirla murmured.

“I’ll let you know,” Lyrai replied, saving his breath for the East Tower. For a man with a limp, Myran moved fast and his lieutenants struggled to keep up, pausing at the top to catch their breath. Lightning flickered, followed by snarling thunder that shook the torches in their brackets. Casting an experienced eye over his officers, the captain smiled and opened the door.

Two men waited inside. “Good timing, Myran?” Captain Roumn greeted; a grizzled older Rider who looked as if the kaz-naghkt had gnawed on him. He eyed Stirla and Lyrai with a smirk. “Think you’re ready to play the teaching game, lads?”

As the lieutenants traded uncertain glances, the other captain came over. “They’ve just outraced a storm, Roumn, give them a chance to dry out before frightening them off.” The shortest man present, Captain Fredkhen was also the friendliest. “How many with you?”

“Thirty-two,” Myran said. “Nineteen from Nimbys, eight from Storm Peaks, five from Sutherall. You came from Etheria?”

“For my sins.” Fredkhen nodded. “Brought twenty-nine. Gods, I thought we’d never make the Choice. We had over a hundred applicants, thirty of them girls.”

As the captains moved off to discuss student numbers, Myran dismissed his followers with a wave. They were happy to be excused and Lyrai led the rush to the fireplace.

“Ah, Aquila,” Stirla sighed, ruffling the water from his hair, while Rees and Honra held their hands towards the flames. “Not here a day and the olds are already boring me to death.”

Watching the captains, Lyrai smiled grimly. “If Fredkhen’s here you know what that means?”

Stirla straightened up and grimaced. “Willym. I’d forgotten and was happy in my ignorance. How did the nicest captain in the Riders end up with him?”

“Patronage,” Rees grunted, lifting his coattails to warm his backside.

“Fredkhen’s family work for Willym’s father, Jarl Yurrayn,” Honra elaborated.

“Figures,” Stirla grumbled. “Does this mean we’re stuck with that pyrefly scat for the next three years?”

They contemplated the thought in miserable silence. “Gods,” Lyrai sighed. “And I thought the students would be the worst of it.”

Before they could get too depressed, the inner door opened and a fresh-faced secretary peeped out. “Dean Marshall will see you now.”

“So nice to be home,” Stirla grumbled, following the captains into the dean’s study.

* * * * *

“I AM NEVER sitting in another boat as long as I live, so help me gods,” Corin vowed, dripping into the dining hall. The stone walls were shadowed in the lamplight, leaving an impression of immense space barely softened by grand tapestries and banners. Five tables marched down the hall’s length, one of which was covered with baskets of food. Simple fare, but warm and close to the fire. The students descended like a plague of half-drowned rats.

“As good a reason as any for joining the Riders,” Derrain agreed, sitting beside Mhysra and reaching for the pie basket. “Fly in all right?”

“Better than you apparently,” Mhysra replied, helping Corin climb over the bench. Her friend was groaning enough to put an eighty-year-old to shame. “What happened?”

“Cold.” Corin’s teeth chattered as she reached for a roll. “Cramped. Idiots.”

“The rain was freezing,” Haelle explained across the table. “And we were packed as tight as a rain cloak’s weave.”

Mouse, however, was jubilant. “Our boat almost tipped over! We nearly went in the river!”

“Since that flows out over the falls, I was not so happy at the prospect as you,” Derrain said. “Remind me never to sit near him again.”

The students bickered as they devoured fruit, pies and cold meats, while warming up beside the enormous fireplace. As they gnawed on the food, many of them studied the gloomy room. It seemed impossible that they were at Aquila. They might easily have been back in at the Rider offices for lunch. Aside from the abundance of stone and atmosphere of grandeur.

“Hey-ho, Derry-o, you made it!” Warm hands gripped Mhysra’s shoulders and she leant back against her brother as he greeted her friends, old and new. His chest rumbled against her head when he laughed at Derrain’s description of the boat ride, comparing their arrival to his own four years ago.

“You never said your brother would be here,” Corin whispered. “Wrentherin, Kilpapan, Wingborn, and now a Rider-in-training with a personal guide to Aquila.” She glanced up at Kilai. “You have the best looking relations.”

“You think every man’s good-looking, and I can’t say I’ve noticed,” Mhysra said, bumping her head against Kilai’s chest. When her brother looked down, she waved at the girl beside her. “Kilai, meet Corin.”

Her brother smiled. “Welcome to Aquila, Corin. Another pretty face to brighten these bleak halls. I hope you like it here.”

Derrain looked up. “That’s a point. How many girls got through?”

Kilai squeezed onto the bench between his sister and Derrain. “Ten so far, to go with your -” He did a quick count. “Eight. Oww, nine.” He scowled, rubbing where Mhysra had elbowed him for leaving her out. “The North Point lot haven’t arrived yet.”

“Nineteen girls,” Corin said thoughtfully. “That’s not so bad. I expected less.”

“We all did,” Kilai agreed, catching his sister’s arm before she could jab him. “Not like that, hoyden, we’re just surprised. They’re preparing a second dormitory. They expected about fifteen.”

Across the table, a Storm Peaks lad snorted. “Rumour says they expected none.”

Kilai’s smile was crooked. “Then they were wrong. I knew at least one would make it.” He ruffled Mhysra’s hair and stood up. “Now it’s up to you girls to prove just how wrong they were. In the meantime I’ll show you to your rooms. As soon as the North Point lot arrive, the captains’ll divide you into your training flurries, then they set you to work. So get to know the others, explore and make the most of this freedom. It’s the last you’ll see for a while.”

With that cheery advice, he headed for the door, leaving the new students to scurry after him, stuffing fruit and pies into handkerchiefs and pockets.

Looping his arms around Corin and Mhysra’s shoulders, Derrain gave them both an excited squeeze. “So it begins.”

~ 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 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 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 12, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch12.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Just hanging out over the Cloud Sea, flirting with a charming sky captain, as you do. And what’s that? Brand new miryhls! Someone fetch a net!

Twelve

 28th Fledgling

A cool breeze washed over the mountain as Cumulo soared in widening circles. Mhysra lay against his back, enjoying the sun. It was a beautiful morning, made all the more special by the news three days ago that she’d passed her exams, along with all her friends.

“It’s nearly ready,” Cumulo called, dipping a wing and banking sideways.

Mhysra’s knees tightened as the world tipped, giving her an excellent – if unusual – view of the activity below. A quarter of the flying field was covered in scaffolding, explaining why she and the rest of the students had been given a half-moon break.

“Glad I don’t have to stay there.”

Chuckling, Mhysra smoothed Cumulo’s wind-ruffled feathers. “If you weren’t already bonded you’d be too excited about the Choice to care about the accommodation.”

Cumulo snorted. “Hardly. Humans get excited about the Choice. Miryhls don’t. All the Choice does is bind us to a lifetime of work.”

“Charming,” she replied. “Are you saying miryhls don’t gain anything from the bond?”

“Yes.”

“But Riders get to fly, so that’s the only reason they care about their miryhls?”

“Something like that,” he agreed, flapping away from the city-side of the mountain.

“So the fact you roost in the best eyries and get fresh meat regularly, whether you work or not, is not worth having?”

Cumulo didn’t answer, taking them on a skin-tingling dive down a gully instead. Clinging tightly, Mhysra gasped, heart racing with the exhilaration of being at one with her miryhl. It was true, Riders did gain a lot through the bond, and the gift of flying wasn’t something she could ever give up, but miryhls were more than just mounts. They were partners, protectors, friends. Or even family.

The base of the gully broke over the mountainside and Cumulo drifted down to the Cloud Sea, its turbulent winds making Mhysra’s teeth chatter. Skimming over a low outcrop, Cumulo kicked off the frozen rocks and took them back up to where the air was warm and clear.

Passing a Rider patrol, Mhysra waved. “Are you sorry?”

Swooping under the other flyers, Cumulo tilted his head and eyed her curiously. “About?”

“Being bonded to me. I know neither of us had a choice, but do you mind?” She’d never considered it before, but his comments worried her. He was the one constant in her life, as important as home or friends. It wasn’t quite breathing, but with Cumulo life was worth living. She’d always assumed he felt the same, but what if he didn’t? If he’d been free to accept another Rider, would he have jumped at the chance, even if it meant leaving her behind? Was their Wingborn status a hindrance to him, where it had always been a gift to her?

Cumulo tucked his wings in and dropped several feet, before catching them again – an airborne sigh. “You think too much.” His voice was a reassuring vibration against her.

“It was a fair question, after what you said.”

He clucked reproachfully. “I was joking. Since you started training you’ve lost all sense of humour. Not that you had much to begin with.”

She smiled into his feathers, loving the clean smell of him touched with a sweet hint of dust. “Did it ever occur to you that you’re not funny?”

“Of course not. The fault has always been yours.”

“Naturally.”

“But even without a true appreciation for my genius, I’d rather have you than anyone. I can’t imagine a better flight partner. You’re my Wingborn. Even though I can’t live without you, I don’t wish to either. I’m yours as you are mine. If I made disparaging remarks about the Choice it’s because I pity all other miryhls. They’ll never have what we have, nor comprehend what they’re missing. You are like flight to me.”

Stunned to hear such words from her proud and often irreverent Wingborn, Mhysra couldn’t speak. Instead she reached forward as far as she could and hugged him tightly. Tears stung her eyes, from the cold and the wind as well as emotion, and she buried her face in his feathers.

“Are you crying?” he rumbled. “You’d better not be crying. Your nose always runs when you cry and it ruins my feathers. I am not a handkerchief.”

Chuckling, she sat up and wiped her face. “I’m not crying.”

“Good. It would damage my reputation should anyone catch you being so unashamedly girlish. There is no room for maudlin sentiment in the Riders.”

“Yes, sir,” she chirped, saluting cheekily.

“Are you mocking me, student?” he growled, in a perfect impersonation of Sergeant Rees.

“Never, sir.”

“Because if you were, student, I would have to take severe action.”

“I would never dare mock you, most gracious and brilliant sir.”

“Good. I should hate, for example, to have to do this!” Wings tucking in tight, he clamped her legs against his sides and plummeted into freefall. Had Mhysra been a little less familiar with her miryhl it would have been terrifying, especially when the world turned and the clouds rushed up to meet them, but after years of flying together she knew him almost as well as she knew herself. Which was why when she felt his wings twitch, she gripped his neck feathers, tightened her thighs and held on.

She still screamed, though, when Cumulo began to spin. Her heart thundered, her chest felt tight and her eyes closed. The wind roared in her ears, slapping her face and pulling at her hair as it raced over them while they tumbled down and around. With a final roll, Cumulo righted himself, swooping across the clouds and scattered rocks below.

Mhysra laughed breathlessly, face buried against his neck. “You’ll kill me one day.”

He didn’t answer. Fresh tension shivered through him and he powered upwards with heavy beats of his wings, lifting them higher with each hard pull. “Ship,” he growled.

She sat up in surprise. A skyship was drifting over the Cloud Sea towards them. Specks circled the unfamiliar vessel, swooping in and out of the hatch doors on the bottom of the ship’s five tiers. Thinner than the broad hulls her family favoured, the dark craft was sleek and slender, perfect for cutting through the air. The gasbag was red and black, the insignia unknown.

She was intrigued. “I’m game, if you are.”

He chuckled. “Far be it for me to deny your pleasure, my lady.”

As they approached, the specks retreated to the hull until only a pair of horsats and some pyrefly patrollers were left. They had been sighted.

“Behave,” she warned as the horsats approached, and Cumulo gave a contemptuous snort.

“Ho, Rider!” the foremost flyer called in a heavy accent. “From Nimbys?”

“Yes,” she shouted back, unsure what more to add.

“The captain invites you aboard Thorncrest. You will honour us?”

Thinking they would be disappointed when they discovered she was only a student, she nevertheless accepted the invitation. Cumulo needed a rest and if they could catch a lift back to Nimbys that would be even better. “We would be delighted.”

With a nod, one of the horsat fliers reined his mount around and galloped back to the ship. The second waited patiently for them to join him, before showing them the best approach.

“Welcome, welcome!” A tall, dark-skinned man dressed in buff leathers and a deep blue coat, strode across the deck as Cumulo glided over the rail and hopped to a neat halt. “Welcome, Rider and fine miryhl.” He bowed respectfully to Cumulo and grinned at Mhysra. His smile faltered as she pulled off her flying hat and slid from the saddle. The crew drew back in confusion.

Mhysra smiled nervously and rested a hand on Cumulo’s wing for reassurance. “Thank you for the invitation, captain. You have a wonderful ship.”

The flattery smoothed over the awkwardness and the captain’s bright smile sprang back. “True,” he agreed, reaching for her hand. After a hearty shake, he raised it for a kiss. “You grace it so beautifully, fair lady. Tell me, have things changed so swiftly in Nimbys? I heard they allowed women Riders again, but did not know they already had such fine jewels in their midst.”

Slightly overwhelmed, Mhysra freed her hand while Cumulo tucked her protectively against his chest. “You heard correctly, sir,” she said, gathering her composure. “I am a new student.”

“But you fly so beautifully. Have we missed the Choice? Do you learn to fly before Aquila now?” The captain acted confused, though his dark eyes glimmered. He was a fine looking man who clearly knew how to use his charms to disarm unwary women.

Determined not to fall under his spell, Mhysra stiffened. “I am Wingborn, sir.”

An excited whisper spread across the deck and the captain straightened to his full, impressive height. “Wingborn, you say? Then we truly are honoured. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Captain Khene Torven of Thorncrest, out of Zvenera. We have sailed across the lonely sea from the edge of the Stormsurge, bringing students and miryhls for the Choice.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Captain Torven. I am Mhysra Kilpapan, student Rift Rider, and this is my Wingborn, Cumulo.”

“Ah.” The amusement sprang back into his eyes. “A Kilpapan. I would be delighted, were your family not so adept at cutting out my trade. You have the look of your mother, Lady Mhysra. Were you not so tall I would have noticed sooner. Still, be welcome aboard Thorncrest, such as she is.”

“Thank you, captain. Perhaps it will ease your mind to know that until this summer I lived with my aunt and know nothing about the Kilpapan business.”

“A little.” He smiled again. “A very little, but I’d be honoured if you would bide a while and share your story, while we return you and your fine friend to Nimbys. It will be an enjoyable journey.”

Exchanging amused glances with Cumulo, she smiled at the captain. “We’d be delighted.”

* * * * *

THE SHORT TRIP back to Nimbys was fun. Despite his spates of flummery, Captain Torven was good company. After asking about Wrentheria and the Lowlands, he regaled Mhysra with tales of his travels and life in the Storm Peaks. All accompanied by an irrepressible twinkle in his eye. Mhysra doubted she could believe a word, but he was amusing. After a while Cumulo settled down for a snooze, satisfied his Wingborn was safe.

When Nimbys came into view, gilded by the evening light, the captain excused himself. Horsat messengers were dispatched and sailors filled the deck, pulling in side sails and adjusting the ballast, while others secured the hold. Leaning against the prow rail, Mhysra peered down at the excited youngsters rushing onto the outer walkways of the lower decks, eager for their first glimpse of Nimbys. These would be her year mates at Aquila, and she hoped that more would prove friends than foes.

“You’re fretting again,” Cumulo murmured over her shoulder.

“Better prepared than surprised,” she replied, while sailors hustled the students away.

Captain Torven ordered the hatches opened and the signaller blew the horn. The sound boomed down the ship’s bow and echoed against the mountainside, until the whole sky rang with it.

The captain approached Mhysra as loose miryhls emerged from the belly of the ship. “Would you guide them to their new home, my lady?”

Mhysra glanced at Cumulo, eyebrows raised. Someone would be coming from the barracks to collect them, but she didn’t mind helping. It depended on her miryhl. He tilted his head, sighed and lowered his wing.

“Is that a yes?”

Mhysra grinned and accepted the hand Torven offered. “It is, captain. Thank you for your company. I hope we meet again sometime.”

“I am sure of it,” he agreed, kissing her hand. “Perhaps sooner than you think.” Winking, he stepped back so she could mount. At her curious glance, he laughed. “Till next time!”

Cumulo opened his wings, cleared the deck with a bound and they launched into a sky filled with miryhls.

~ 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 11, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch11.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Nothing particularly testing in this installment, just Mhysra, Cue, Corin and Stirla hanging out in the eyries. Well, it is Sunday.

“YOU ARE ONE of the luckiest people I know.”

Blinking, Mhysra looked up from preening Cumulo. Corin leant against an empty perch, eyes closed, basking in a shaft of sunlight.

At the silence, her friend opened her bright eyes and smiled. “Well, you are.”

Mhysra shook her head and returned to work. “I have advantages, but I’m not lucky.”

“Why not?” Corin asked, watching the Riders arrive for their patrol. It was Starday and, despite being a free day for most, Rider duty never stopped. However, when Theryn didn’t appear she lost interest. “Look what you have.” She waved an arm, which Cumulo seized in his beak.

“Cue,” Mhysra warned, and he let go with a snort. “Sorry.”

Corin grinned. “Serves me right for waving it in his face, eh, Cue?”

Though fond of his reputation for being too arrogant to acknowledge lesser mortals, Cumulo occasionally condescended to notice certain people. Of Mhysra’s new friends his favourites were definitely Dhori and Corin, so he gave a regal nod.

Mhysra poked him and glared at Corin. “Don’t encourage him. All the attention he’s had since we arrived has gone to his head. He’ll think himself a god next.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Corin protested on the miryhl’s behalf.

“But he might have.”

Cumulo crackled his beak, swinging his head around to nudge her. “I am not an idiot,” he grumbled softly enough for only her to hear.

“Be more tolerant,” she chided. “You can’t be grouchy when we’re Riders. Other people will need to touch you from time to time.”

“Not if they thump me in the face,” he muttered, and she tickled his crest.

“Just be careful, please.”

“I’m always careful.” Turning away, he stuck his head under his wing to sulk.

Corin watched the exchange with a smile. “Lucky.”

“What? Because I’ve been tied to this grump my whole life?” She yanked out a bent feather and stumbled as the reflexive twitch of Cumulo’s wing knocked her sideways. “Believe me, there are nicer miryhls. I’ve met them.”

“Lucky,” Corin said again. “You had a dream childhood. And whatever you say about Cue, I know you don’t mean it. If he was that bad half the Riders wouldn’t have tried stealing him away.”

Cumulo’s head came up and he puffed out his chest. When he nudged Mhysra, fishing for compliments, she gave him a shove. “They only want him for his looks. And yes, growing up at Wrentheria was a dream – I’m not disputing that. But that’s where I was born, and Cumulo’s part of that.”

“So what’s not lucky about turning old enough just in time for the proclamation?” Corin asked slyly, picking up a feather from the floor and stroking it straight.

“That had nothing to do with me,” Mhysra protested as Cumulo hopped onto a low perch, putting his legs at waist level. “And you’re here too. Does that make you lucky?”

“I’ve always been lucky,” Corin agreed, blowing the feather into the air. “Just not as lucky as you. Can I help?”

Knowing she wasn’t going to win this argument, Mhysra handed her friend a cloth. “Use this on his talons. I’ll do his legs – the oil needs to be applied by hand and it stinks.”

“Wow.” Corin bent to study Cumulo’s huge talons. Despite needing a clean the golden claws glinted, the edges sharp and deadly. “Remind me never to offend a miryhl.”

Cumulo chuckled and shifted his feet, while Mhysra poured oil into her palm and rubbed it between her hands. “Good advice. Most calm down once they’re bonded, but there are always ones with short tempers.”

“Like people,” Corin agreed, oiling the cloth and setting to work. Dust and grime smeared away as she rubbed in small circles, revealing the translucent shine beneath. “Is this right?”

Cumulo arched his neck and nodded.

“You’re a natural,” Mhysra agreed, tugging loose feathers from where they were caught on the rough skin of Cumulo’s legs and cursing when they stuck to her sticky fingers.

Coming to her rescue, Corin also removed the fluff in her braid. “Thanks for letting me help.”

“It’s good practise. For you and Cue. He needs to get used to being tended by others.”

Cumulo made a sound of protest and engulfed her under a wing, tucking her head and shoulders against his side.

Chuckling, Corin pulled her free. “I never knew how much care they needed. You hear stories about them talking, being created by Maegla and being as intelligent as us and all, so I assumed they could look after themselves.”

“Of course they can,” Mhysra said, while Cumulo squawked at the slight. “Like any wild eagle, miryhls are perfectly capable of looking after themselves. But the rigours of Rider work mean they deserve extra care. Like horsats and pyreflies. Besides I like looking after him and it’s a good way to strengthen the bond.

“As Lieutenant Lyrai says -” Mhysra cleared her throat and adopted a lecturing tone, “ – the form of a weapon is only half its strength. Without care the edge dulls and it will let you down in a thousand ways. A miryhl is a Rider’s first and most formidable weapon.” The bird gave another disgruntled squawk, and she chuckled. “Not that Cumulo would let me down, but oiling his claws every half-moon helps prevent cracks and keeps them strong. While preening the parts he can’t reach easily makes him more comfortable. They’re just little things here and there, but they add up.”

“I’d never have thought of these things on my own,” Corin said admiringly, shaking her head as she moved onto Cumulo’s left foot. “You’re a useful girl to have around.”

“Not all of us think so.” Lieutenant Stirla chuckled as they both jumped, startled to find him behind them “Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing.” He lounged against a perch, a bridle draped over his shoulder. Across the aisle his miryhl Atyrn ruffled her feathers in preparation for being taken out. She gave them a regal nod, looking glossier than ever, eyes bright, beak shining.

“All the miryhls are grateful Lady Mhysra showed up,” Stirla continued. “Cumulo likes to talk, so no Rider gets any peace these days. It’s all nag, nag, nag. Preen me, bathe me, oil me, feed me more.”

Mhysra hid her face against Cumulo and mumbled something apologetic about baby miryhls and demanding natures.

The lieutenant chuckled. “It’s a good thing, mostly, and it does help with the bond. I know my Atyrn appreciates the extra attention.” He crossed to his miryhl and she crooned in welcome.

Corin sighed wistfully. “I don’t know if I can wait another month.”

“It’ll pass quickly,” Stirla promised, slipping the bridle over Atyrn’s beak. “You’ve already waited six moons. Not that any of you know enough to pick a miryhl yet. Most pairs muddle along and by the end of their time at Aquila they’re familiar enough. No one gets a perfect match right off, except those two.”

Mhysra and Cumulo snorted in unison. “Right off?” she contested. “We’ve been paired for fifteen years. We grew up together. We’re not a match, we’re family.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Stirla chuckled, slipping Atyrn’s saddle into place.

“Do you have brothers, sir?”

“No.”

“Sisters?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then you’ll know why it isn’t always a good thing.”

Laughing, he secured the two girths tightly. “Even if you had the worst sibling relationship in history, you’d still have a better partnership than half the Riders. But I only have to watch you to know it’s far better than that. I hope you’re taking notes, Corin.” Winking, he slapped his saddle and sent Atyrn outside. “Enjoy your Starday, students.”

They said goodbye and Mhysra finished oiling Cumulo’s legs, before wiping her hands clean.

Corin leaned back against the rail again, shaking her head.

“What?” Mhysra asked, packing up her kit.

Corin’s lips quirked up. “Lucky.”

Hefting her stuff towards the tack room, Mhysra smiled as she watched Cumulo preen in the sunshine. Perhaps, though she wasn’t about to admit it, Corin had a point.

~ 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 8, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch8.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Lyrai receives an invitation he can’t refuse, and is that some flirting I see before me? *gasp*

Eight

24th Cold

Though he’d expected a summons from the moment he’d set foot in Nimbys, Lyrai had still hoped for later rather than sooner. Then again, as Stirla pointed out, two moons into his seven-month residency hardly counted as soon. Regardless, Lyrai tensed when a carriage stopped outside the barracks on the third Starday of Cold.

“Trying to be discreet,” Stirla murmured, watching through the window.

Lyrai didn’t answer – he was too busy frowning at the carriage. In a gods-cursed world covered in clouds, horses were impractical and scarce. They were reserved mainly for use on low-lying farm peaks – not in narrow Nimbys, where feet worked best. However, such ideas were unfamiliar to his mother. When Stirla said she was trying to be discreet, he was right: she simply had no idea what the word meant.

“I’d best go,” Lyrai sighed, looking down at himself and wondering if he should change. Having just returned from the cathedral, he was still wearing his dress uniform, complete with impractical white breeches.

“You’ll do,” Honra assured him.

“He could be covered in mud and stinking to Heirayk’s own heaven and his mother would forgive him.” Stirla pinched his fellow lieutenant’s cheek and failed to duck the retaliatory swipe across the head. “For that I hope you meet your father.”

“And I hope Atyrn dumps you in a thorn bush,” Lyrai retorted, shrugging into his jacket.

“Not long now,” Stirla said. “You’ll be flying again soon.”

Lyrai smiled bitterly. “Comforting as that is, it wouldn’t save me from a summons.”

“True,” Stirla agreed, hooking his arm around Lyrai’s neck and dragging him from the room. “Play nicely with your sisters, give your beautiful mother a kiss from me and don’t antagonise your brother.” He paused to straighten Lyrai’s neckcloth before shoving him towards the entrance hall.

“Aye, Grandmother.” Lyrai turned and tugged his forelock. “But it isn’t my brother I’m worried about.” They exchanged wry salutes before Stirla left for the eyries. Only the fact that there was no miryhl awaiting him, and thus no means of escape, stopped Lyrai from following.

Instead he turned to the waiting footman and accepted the gilded invitation, though there was no need to open it. The words inside were a mere formality and ones he could not, under any circumstances, refuse. Not even death was an adequate excuse when his mother sent a carriage.

So he sighed, nodded to the footman and climbed inside. “Milady has spoken, and like a dutiful son, I obey. Lead on.”

* * * * *

MAKING THE MOST of the weak winter sun, Mhysra preened Cumulo outside. Her hair was wrapped in an old scarf, there was a handkerchief tied across her nose and she was wearing her oldest clothes.

“You’re getting lazy, Cue,” she grumbled as she worked beneath his wing. Quill dust and dirt had turned her fingers grey and her nails a lovely sludge brown, while her palms glistened with feather oil. What he really needed was a bath, but the nearest source was the Nimbys reservoir, and having got away with using it once, she didn’t think they should push their luck.

“Why worry about deep preening when I have a Wingborn?” Cumulo rumbled as she emerged. He nudged her and sneezed.

Chuckling, she untied the handkerchief and wiped the mess from her face. As she pulled off the scarf and shook the dust from her hair, he sneezed again and gave her a baleful glare.

“Don’t blame me,” she said. “It’s all yours.”

“Mhysra!”

She raised her head at the unexpected shout and spotted her sister walking across the field, aided and supported by Lieutenant Stirla’s arm. Mhysra couldn’t help smiling at the man’s dazed expression.

“The mighty has fallen,” Cumulo murmured, while Milluqua thanked Stirla prettily and dismissed him with a smile. Looking sun-struck, the poor man wandered back to the eyries.

“Did you have to?” Mhysra asked.

Tearing her gaze from Stirla’s retreating back, Milluqua blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“He’s my lieutenant. He might be my captain when I graduate. Things could get awkward.”

Her sister frowned in confusion, looking beautifully feminine in lilac and lace, such a contrast to her dusty, hoydenish sibling. “Oh, but Lieutenant Stirla was ever so kind. He gave me a tour of the eyries while I was looking for you. Large, isn’t it? More so than anything at Wrentheria. And the miryhls…” Her voice trailed off as she stared back towards the eyries. “So kind.”

Cumulo chuckled, but Mhysra shook her head. “He’s not even a captain yet, Milli. Father would not approve.”

Milluqua’s eyes widened innocently. However, when Mhysra arched her eyebrows, she sighed. “There are good families in the Riders.”

“Amongst others,” Mhysra reminded her gently. “Lieutenant Stirla is of that other variety.”

“He was nice to me and has lovely eyes,” the older woman murmured dreamily. “He’s terribly handsome, especially with that scar. And so tall. He makes me feel fragile.”

Considering how small Milluqua was, Mhysra would like meet the man who didn’t make her feel fragile. Especially if he was a Rider. “He’s a flirt and Derry says he has a shocking reputation.”

“Really?” Milluqua asked, feigning nonchalance. “I do like to flirt.”

Rolling her eyes, Mhysra scrubbed her hands with her scarf. “What brings you up here? Is the season so dull you must seek entertainment elsewhere?”

Her sister smiled, all dimples and prettiness, showing why she was still one of the most sought after ladies in the city, even at the advanced age of twenty-two. “Hardly. It was a relief to stay home last night. I’ve worn through three pairs of slippers this past half-moon!”

“It gives Bumble something to chew,” Mhysra said absently, plucking a crooked feather from Cumulo’s chest and making him squawk. Recalling her manners, Milluqua greeted the miryhl and he lowered his head for a scratch. She was one of his favourite people.

“Father asked for you,” she said, as Cumulo returned to looking aloof and magnificent.

Mhysra wrinkled her nose. “He’s already seen me this quarter-moon.” Since she’d ceased pestering her father about joining the Riders they’d seen little of each other. Their paths occasionally crossed at dinner, but only when he wasn’t escorting Milluqua somewhere. As such, he called her to his study each quarter-moon for a progress report. He thought she spent her days learning ladylike behaviour from her sister and occasionally visiting her miryhl. The fact that she was growing toned from her training passed unnoticed. All that mattered was whether she could pour tea correctly, was losing her country accent and could curtsey appropriately to those above her rank, with subtle differences for those below.

It was immensely tedious, but since it was the only time she had to see her father Mhysra accepted it, and valued the etiquette lessons she suffered through at school. Part of her was sad that she had so little in common with her father, but she was also relieved. If they shared even one interest he might pay more attention and her secret would be out. Which was why any change in routine made her nervous.

“Do you know why?”

Milluqua shook her head. “I gave up second guessing father years ago. Mostly he’s as predictable as the seasons, but every so often he’ll surprise us just for the fun of it. It discourages complacency.”

“Lovely,” Mhysra sighed and gave Cumulo a farewell pat. There would be no flying today.

~ 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 7, Part 3

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch7.3

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

What’s that? A Wingborn? But Wingborn don’t exist! Hahaha-Argh! Cue, let me go! Lemme go!

THE NEXT MORNING Mhysra and Derrain met up with Dhori on their walk through the city. The air was icy, promising a blizzard before dark. Not that Hethanon cared, sending them off on another punishing run. Cold to the bone, the students trudged to their training masters and went through the motions with mind-numbing weariness.

“Tired, my lambs?” Hethanon cooed, but his smile rapidly faded. “Toughen up or leave.”

The next morning brought the first desertions, with not one training master retaining all their students. Sergeant Rees’ line looked particularly thin. Mouse had lost his partner already and, unfortunately for him, was obliged to train with Lieutenant Lyrai instead.

“He’s evil,” he whimpered at midday, flexing his shoulders. “It’s bad enough when he’s shouting, but working with him is torture. He wants to kill me.”

“You’re getting off lightly.” Harlan was unsympathetic. “Try having Rees on your back.”

Mouse changed his tune the following quarter-moon when he was paired with Mhysra, after another student left and Dhori was moved to work with someone else. It was a day of changes. Since they could all now manage the exercises without injury, Hethanon brought out staffs for them to use.

“The staff is an all-purpose weapon, in training and in combat. Master it and you may try something more difficult. No one picks up a sword who cannot handle a staff. This is the opening exercise.”

Mhysra was soon grateful to be opposite Mouse, who though shorter was of equal strength. At Wrentheria, Mhysra had taken daily staff lessons with her cousins from the age of seven, and had yet to develop any fondness for it. By contrast, Dhori looked as though he’d been born to wield it. Lieutenant Lyrai complimented the lad on his prowess and sparred with him to demonstrate how a sequence of moves should be done at full speed. Not that the rest of them did the same. For now everything was done slowly, building up their muscles and numbing their brains.

The afternoons were no better, and Mhysra finally understood her brother’s complaints about the selection school. It was no wonder so many students dropped out – the boredom was staggering. Only her new friends and the thought of Cumulo kept her going.

* * * * *

WINTER MIGHT HAVE been holding Nimbys in a merciless grip, but after completing her first quarter-moon of Rider training, Mhysra couldn’t remember feeling happier. That morning she’d attended the service at the Cathedral of Maegla, sitting in the seats reserved for the Riders. She’d been able to do it without fear, since her father attended the service for Heirayk, God of the Sun, held elsewhere in the city.

Now she was with Cumulo, preparing him for their first flight in days.

“Hurry up,” her impatient miryhl ordered. “I’ve got so much to show you.”

While Mhysra might not have had time for flying lately, didn’t mean he hadn’t been out on his own. “You’ve become quite the adventurer without me, haven’t you?” she chuckled, running her hands under his girths to check they weren’t twisted and his feathers weren’t ruffled.

As she brushed beneath his belly, he jumped. “That tickles.”

“Sorry.”

“As you can see there’s space here for upwards of a hundred birds.” A familiar voice drifted in from outside. Mhysra and Cumulo looked up. Lieutenant Lyrai was outlined in the doorway, a handful of students clustered behind him. Mhysra’s heart sank.

Cumulo chuckled. “Now you’re in for it.”

“Hide me,” she muttered, diving under his wing.

“Mhysra,” he rumbled, half-amused, half-exasperated. “That isn’t going to work.”

“Hush.”

“We have around fifty miryhls at the moment, from the combined Riders of Lieutenant Stirla’s and my flurries. The other half of Captain Myran’s flight is patrolling the mountain communities around Nimbys.”

They were coming closer. Mhysra shrank against Cumulo’s side and held her breath.

“Whose miryhl is that, sir?” a familiar voice asked, making Mhysra bite back a groan: Corin.

“Why is it tacked up?” And Mouse. Lovely.

“And why does it have two extra legs?” She was going to kill Derrain. After she killed Cumulo; she could feel his chuckles across her whole body. “Two human legs. A new breed?”

Lieutenant Lyrai laughed – he actually laughed – and Mhysra remembered why she didn’t like him. “Either you’ve been caught, student, or something’s terribly wrong with Cumulo.”

“Cumulo?” Mouse chirped. “Is that the miryhl’s name?”

Cumulo, the traitor, raised his wing and nudged his Wingborn out into the light, his rumbling laughter audible to everyone as she emerged ruffled and flushed.

“Mhysra!” Everyone but the lieutenant, Derrain and, strangely, Dhori chorused in surprise.

Pushing her hair off her face, Mhysra mustered a weak smile. “Afternoon, everyone.”

“Why are you hiding under that miryhl’s -” At Cumulo’s indignant squawk, Corin apologised. “- sorry, Cumulo’s wing? Did you tack him up? Are you going to fly?”

“Is that allowed?” one of the other students, a girl Mhysra didn’t know, demanded.

“Are there miryhls we can practise on? Can we fly too?” an unfamiliar boy wanted to know.

“Can we?” Corin and Mouse echoed, turning to Lyrai with excitement.

Looking almost as startled as Mhysra, the lieutenant raised his eyebrows. “No.”

“Then how come she gets to?” the unfamiliar girl asked.

Derrain smirked. “Yes, Mhysra, how come you get to fly Cumulo?”

She glared at her friend and realised everyone was staring at her, waiting for an answer. She studied the straw wisps on the floor and mumbled, “He’s mine.”

“What was that?”

“What did she say?

“Speak up!”

“He’s mine,” she repeated, raising her voice.

Silence greeted her announcement.

Then Corin frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” said one of the boys. “I thought only Riders or ruling families could own a miryhl.” He eyed Mhysra critically. “Don’t tell us you’re the daughter of the Stratys.”

Lieutenant Lyrai choked on his amusement and she scowled at him.

“There is another exception to that rule,” Dhori said, calm in the face of their confusion and growing resentment. When everyone turned to him, he smiled. “Wingborn are allowed miryhls.” At Cumulo’s low rumble, his smile broadened. “Wingborn miryhls are allowed humans too.”

“I like him,” Cumulo whispered in her ear.

“You would.”

The group fell silent, blinking at each other. Then Corin’s lips began to twitch, Mouse started snickering and the whole lot of them burst into laughter.

“Wingborn!”

“Oh, that’s rich.”

“We might be newbies, but we aren’t that stupid.”

“Wingborn, ha!”

As they continued to laugh, Mhysra sighed and rested her head against Cumulo’s neck.

“Should have known we couldn’t fool you,” Lieutenant Lyrai chuckled. “You’re such a smart bunch. What was I thinking?”

While the students continued to laugh, Mhysra grew fed up of listening. “Glad to amuse you,” she grumbled, interrupting another round of, “Got to get up early to fool us, sir,” and “I haven’t believed in Wingborn since I was eight!”

“Come on, Cue.”

Sensing her mood, he didn’t argue, hopping to the nearest hatch and diving out. Shoving students aside and elbowing Derrain along the way, Mhysra stalked after her miryhl.

“Where are you going?” Mouse asked, bouncing after her. “It was a good joke.”

“I’m off to fly my imaginary Wingborn,” she retorted, still smarting from being laughed at. It was like being back in the offices again, facing down Clerk Brenai in front of all the Riders.

“This I have to see,” one of the strangers chuckled, no doubt anticipating a quick dismount.

Mhysra smiled. She might not have liked the laughter, but she was going to enjoy this.

“Are you sure?” Corin eyed Cumulo warily. Standing with his chest puffed out, he looked regal, intimidating and huge. “He’s so big.”

Mhysra snorted, both at Cumulo’s display and her sudden lack of escorts. The students had halted ten feet away, none daring to come any closer. Derrain and Lieutenant Lyrai stood smirking at the back.

“Idiots,” she grumbled, and stepped onto Cumulo’s lowered wing. When he boosted her into the saddle, she settled down to gasps from the students.

“You don’t have to do this,” Corin called worriedly. “I believe you.”

“She doesn’t,” Cumulo said, as if Mhysra had been foolish enough to think otherwise.

“Sir, you have to stop her,” Mouse pleaded with the lieutenant.

“She could get hurt,” Corin protested.

“She could,” Lyrai agreed, smiling at Mhysra’s glare. “But she won’t. Have a little faith. They know what they’re doing.”

Having tinkered long enough with things that didn’t need adjusting, Mhysra tucked up her legs and gathered the reins. “When you’re ready, Cue.”

“All right, chickling,” he chuckled, opened his wings and screamed. As the students covered their ears – and Corin covered her eyes – Cumulo crouched and sprang upwards, thumping the air with great flaps of his wings. Another, then another, got them airborne and spiralling on the updrafts to gasps of awe. “Always nice to be appreciated.”

Lying against his back, Mhysra chuckled. “Show-off.”

“No one doubts my Wingborn and gets away with it.” So saying, he let his left wing drop, banking towards the cliffs, and swept back across the field over their audience’s head.

She clung to his back, familiar with her arrogant miryhl’s routine, while Cumulo executed an array of tricks that left the crowd below in no doubt about who he belonged to. Satisfied, he rose above an appreciative chorus of cheers and whistles.

Reaching forward, she hugged him hard. “You’re my hero.”

“Anytime, chickling,” he chuckled, carrying them into the winter sunshine. “Anytime.”

~ 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 7, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch7.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

New friends! And far too much exercise for a Sunday morning.

“NOT… WHAT… I… expect-ed,” Derrain puffed as they completed their laps. They were among the first to finish, though plenty had claimed to be done earlier. Except the little man with the big voice had the eyes of a hawk. The cheaters probably wished they hadn’t bothered now, Mhysra thought, watching the stragglers stump out two extra laps.

“Evil,” she gasped, bending over to catch her breath. Before this morning she’d thought herself fit. At Wrentheria she regularly ran with the fledgling miryhls, encouraging them to fly, or played chase with her cousins and the nakhounds. This was torture, with every breath stabbing frozen knives inside her chest. Even Derrain was worn out and he was used to scrambling around skyships in the middle of a storm, hauling himself up ropes and other such daring stuff.

“Still alive, though,” Derrain said as he straightened. “I feel ready for anything now.” He stretched his arms and went to fetch their coats from the pile of discarded clothing.

“Unnatural,” Mhysra grumbled, noticing some of the other girls eyeing her friend. She smiled when one walked over and introduced herself.

“I’m Corin.”

Derrain shrugged into his coat and grinned. “I’m Derrain, and she’s Mhysra.”

Mhysra straightened and nodded politely, surprised when the girl dragged her eyes away from Derrain long enough to nod back. Short and stocky, Corin was pretty when she smiled, lighting up her amber eyes. “You both did well back there. I don’t think you got barked at once.”

“All right for some.” A scrawny girl limped over, clutching her ribs. “I never moved so much in me life, and all to get back where we started. Ain’t what I was expecting. Ulla.”

“Corin,” the short girl replied, and pointed at the others. “Derrain. Mhysra. I’ve seen you around the docks.”

The scrawny girl nodded, scratching her tight brown curls. “Aye. Me da’s a gladhand.” Which was docker slang for men who turned their hand to anything to earn a coin. She nodded at Corin. “You’re merchant stock.” She looked at Derrain. “You’re off the ships.” Turning to Mhysra, she narrowed her eyes. “You’re new. Don’t know what you do, but I seen you about.”

“Impressing people again, Ulla Bright-Eyes?” asked a tall boy with a broad grin.

“Harlan,” the girl grumbled. “An’ Mouse.” This was said to the small lad in Harlan’s shadow. Whereas one boy was tall and exuded confidence, the other was small and fidgety. “Thought you said you weren’t gonna bother.”

“I needed to do something over the winter.” Harlan shrugged. He looked too fine for the Riders, with his artfully arranged curls and brightly polished boots.

While they waited for the rest of the new students to finish, they got to know each other a little. Corin and Harlan’s parents both ran moderately successful skyships, Mouse was Harlan’s cousin, fresh from the mid-Imercian country and Ulla had grown up on the docks. Being his usual charming self, Derrain quickly fitted right in. He was just explaining how he knew Mhysra when their instructor clapped his hands.

“Who wants to go home now?”

Harlan looked at his muddied boots and sighed, making the others chuckle. There were a few discontented mutters from the crowd, but no one left. The little man smiled, the expression filling Mhysra with dread.

“Good. I am Hethanon Armsmaster and your mornings belong to me now. With me you run and sweat until you break. Eventually I may let you touch a weapon. Because before you go near a miryhl with a pointy object, you must prove you can use it without maiming yourself. Understood?”

There were a couple of mutters, a few affirmative replies, but mostly subdued silence.

“So much to learn,” Hethanon said pityingly. “When I ask a question, you reply. Understood?”

“Yes,” they replied, mostly together.

“Something is missing, students,” Hethanon continued, voice stern. “When I speak, you answer, and when you do you call me sir. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Better,” Hethanon said. “Now your instructors. Real Rift Riders whose time could be better spent than on you. Do not waste it, do not test their patience and do not forget that they are worthy of your respect.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Sergeants Honra and Rees,” Hethanon introduced, pointing to each. “Lieutenants Stirla and Lyrai. You address them as sir and obey at the first time of asking. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Then pay attention. You are too many, but that will change. For now I will divide you up, and you will not complain!” His bark silenced the dissenters before they even began. Mhysra shot Derrain a worried glance; she hoped she was in his group.

“I will point at you and say a name. That is your group. Go stand by them.” Hethanon nodded at the Riders, who spread out. “My group wait in the middle.” He started to point, barking Stirla, Honra, mine, Lyrai or Rees, making more than one student jump. His method was swift and effective, splitting up any groups he spotted and placing any potential troublemakers under his or Sergeant Rees’ command.

“Stirla.” He pointed at Derrain, who sighed with relief.

“Honra.” He pointed at Corin.

“Mine.” Ulla.

“Lyrai.” Mouse.

“Rees.” Harlan.

He divided the group in front of Mhysra, before coming back. “Lyrai.”

Her heart sank and she trudged towards her line. The lieutenant was expressionless, despite the eight students chattering behind him. She joined Mouse, who was pitifully pleased to see her. A couple of lines over, Derrain made a sad face, though he had nothing to complain about in Stirla. It was just her luck to end up with the man she already knew didn’t like her.

When Hethanon finished, she looked at her line and suppressed a sigh. She was the only girl. Stirla and Honra had two each, Hethanon had three. There were none in Rees’ group.

“Great.”

Mouse smiled shyly. “Bet I’m the last person you wanted to be with, but it’ll be good, you’ll see. But if it does get bad we can always thank Heirayk we’re not stuck with Rees.”

“There’s a bright side,” she said, morosely studying the other boys in their line. Two were highborn, and showed it. Four were friends already, while the remaining two didn’t seem to know anyone. One was even smaller than Mouse. He was shaking and she doubted he would last long. The other was tall and calm, looking around curiously. Catching Mhysra’s eye, he smiled.

“All right, everyone.” Lieutenant Lyrai clapped his hands for their attention. “I’m going to teach you some exercises to build up your strength and keep you warm, then we’ll do more to improve your fitness. The Rift Riders are about more than flying pretty birdies.” He caught Mhysra’s eye, and she could have sworn there was a hint of a smile as he recalled the day she’d forced her way into the Riders. Then his gaze passed on and he was as cold as ever.

“I’m sticking with you,” Mouse whispered as Lieutenant Lyrai began pairing people off, telling them about Rider life – it wasn’t easy, they had to be fit and willing to fight, and so on. Reaching them, he pointed Mhysra to the far side of the line and positioned Mouse next to her.

Mhysra bit back a smile as Mouse groaned: he hadn’t got his wish. Standing opposite her was the lad who’d smiled earlier. Mouse was paired with the timid boy. It was obvious why the lieutenant had done it, since they were of a similar size. And twitchy temperament.

“I’m Dhori,” the lad opposite her said, as tall as she was and just as lightly built.

“Mhysra.”

That was all they had time for, because the lieutenant was talking again, demonstrating stretches, jumps, pattern steps, blocks and holds, some of which required two people, hence the pairings. A quick glance around showed that everyone else was doing similar exercises. She smiled at Dhori and started counting star jumps, followed by tucks. It looked daft, but she wasn’t alone in her folly. Derrain and Ulla had had it right earlier – this wasn’t what she’d expected. Not at all.

* * * * *

THEY TRAINED UNTIL noon, then were shown the bathing chambers beneath the Rider offices. Fresh uniforms waited and, once clean and changed, they ate in the hall. Afterwards they were divided into those who were literate and those who weren’t. Since there were only twelve who couldn’t write, the remaining thirty-two were split again into two groups. This time Mhysra managed to stay with Derrain. They were joined by Harlan, Mouse, Corin and Dhori. Ulla had been one of the first to leave, being able to read a little but not write at all.

Though the students’ mornings might belong to Armsmaster Hethanon, their afternoons lay in the hands of the clerks. They would test their literacy and arithmetic as well as teaching them geography, history and languages. The lieutenants would instruct them about life in the Riders later in the term.

Mhysra tried to take in all the things being said, but she was not the only one smothering yawns after their busy morning.

“Remember we asked for this,” Derrain murmured, as they settled into a classroom.

If she’d had more energy she would have hit him.

“Now we know why there are so few Riders,” Harlan grumbled. His boots were now sadly scuffed. “Gods, I don’t think I can take this.”

“Don’t be soft,” Corin scolded. “This is a great opportunity. I’m not giving up yet, not after a paltry bit of exercise. I might change my mind when they start lecturing us on poetry, but I’m hoping they’ll skip that.”

“They save it for Aquila,” Dhori said, taking the seat next to Mhysra.

“That’s something to look forward to,” Mouse chuckled.

Corin and Mhysra groaned, “Great,” and shared a grin.

Moaning, Harlan put his head on the desk. “Wake me if anything interesting happens.”

It didn’t, and at the end of the day Mhysra waved farewell to her new friends before going to see Cumulo. He hopped down two perches to meet her.

“Well? How did it go?”

Smiling, she tickled his head. “It’ll do.” She’d made some friends and if it stayed like this everything would be fine. “I can cope.”

Tilting his head for a stroke, he sighed with relief. “Good. Tell me the same tomorrow.”

~ 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 6, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch6.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Skywards with Cue and the letter appears, at last! There may also be snow, just because.

“YOU CAN COME out now. He’s gone.”

Mhysra blinked. “Who?”

Her miryhl chuckled. “The handsome one, with pale hair and sharp eyes. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Noticed what? You’ve apparently noticed a lot more than I have.”

“Liar.” Cumulo chortled. “You won’t even speak to him. Taken with him, are you?”

Pushing away, she stared at the eagle incredulously. “Don’t be daft. The man despises me. He barely waited for my back to turn before trying to steal you. Taken with him? Ha!”

Cumulo’s eyes glowed with amusement. “My mistake. But he is a fine looking human.”

“He’s a miserable killjoy, with eyes that could cause cloud frost. I prefer Lieutenant Stirla.”

“Well, I like Lieutenant Lyrai. Even his name sounds better. If I wasn’t bonded to you, I’d be tempted.”

“Except you wouldn’t be here, because you’re too young. By the time you were old enough he’d be bonded again, so wipe that smug look off your face. You’ve got me, you were born with me and you’re stuck with me. Be happy.”

Lowering his beak against her chest, he hummed contritely. “I am happy, chickling. No one could be happier than me. Well, maybe I might be if…”

Sighing, she shoved him away. “What now?”

“My saddle. Come on, misery, let’s fly.”

Mhysra’s grouchiness vanished. She no longer cared that every Rider within ten leagues wanted to steal her miryhl, nor that her miryhl was too vain to stop them from trying. She didn’t even care about Cumulo teasing her over the lieutenant anymore. He wanted to go flying. Having never turned down such an offer – rain, snow or sunshine – she ran to the tack room, snatched up his tack and put it on with practised efficiency.

“Where are we going?” she asked, as he strutted out into the bitter day.

“Anywhere as long as it’s up,” Cumulo replied, stretching his wings. “Hop on, chickling, we haven’t long before it snows again.”

When he lowered his wing, she stepped onto the joint and straddled the saddle, slipping her feet into the stirrups and her knees under his wings. She wasn‘t really dressed for a long flight, but even without a cold weather flying coat or flight helmet, she wanted to escape. Anything to get away from the ground and all the things trying to hold her back from this life she had been born to. “All set?” she asked, picking up the reins.

“Hang on.” Cumulo flapped to make sure nothing interfered with his flight muscles, then spread and waggled his tail, just for show. He hopped two paces. “All’s well.”

Bounding forward one stride, two, he opened his wings and jumped. The first flap barely lifted them off the ground, but the second carried them higher and, with a last push of his feet, they were airborne. He flapped laboriously, grunting with each downward pull as they covered the field and rapidly approached the cliff. Cumulo shrieked as he angled his wings, holding them fully extended, and swept around in a steep curve that barely avoided the mountainside.

Mhysra whooped as he flapped again, tilting them into a wide spiral to glide steadily upwards. He was big and strong but out of practise at ground-launching with a passenger.

“You’re getting lazy, Cue.”

He shrieked in outrage and banked heavily to the right, a risky manoeuvre for any rider less experienced than she. Mhysra laughed at his tactics and spread her arms, tipping her head back. Air swept over her, pulling her hair from its pins as Cumulo dived. The world rushed up to meet them, before the miryhl opened his great wings, skimmed the grass and launched skywards again, both whooping with joy.

There was nothing greater than miryhl flight.

Up to speed now, Cumulo glided with the currents and updrafts, carrying them up the mountain to where Rift Riders patrolled. They ducked and weaved, pitting their wits against some of the more playful pairs, until he eventually took her out over the Cloud Sea. It rolled forever, a fluffy whiteness that called to mind soft pillows and gentle sleep. Yet as Cumulo dived to skim the cloud tops, the air turned wild and the surface roiled with cold winds stronger than anything found on the mountain slopes. Despite the frigid air that nipped and shiver their flesh, they relished the challenge of flying through the turbulence, before letting it blow them skywards once more.

Out there they were alone, facing west where the sea stretched uninterrupted beyond the horizon, glowing even under a sullen sky. She could see forever and it was breathtaking.

Leaning against her miryhl’s back, Mhysra hugged as much of him as she could reach and rested her cheek against the cool silk of his feathers. “Thank you,” she murmured, knowing that no matter what happened, what her parents said or how the selection school turned out, she would always have this. She would always have him.

Cumulo’s muscles flexed and bunched beneath her as he beat his wings, carrying them further into forever. “You’re welcome, chickling.”

* * * * *

SNOW WAS FALLING by the time she left the eyries, her heart as light as her footsteps as she headed home. When she passed the offices, the clerk she’d met the other day stepped out.

“Classes begin tomorrow, Lady Mhysra,” he reminded her. “Have you a letter yet?”

She touched her coat pocket and thought of all the arguments, the closed door of her father’s study, the tightening of her mother’s lips whenever her youngest daughter came into view. Making her decision, she pulled out the letter. “Is this is what you require, sir?”

The clerk checked and split the seal, eyes moving swiftly over the neat secretary handwriting and the bold scrawl beneath. He scrutinised it again, before sighing with relief and handing her a uniform kit. “I believe it is. Congratulations, student. Be back here bright and early tomorrow.”

She returned his bow with a half-curtsey and turned for home. If her steps were heavier than before, well, it was cold and she was tired. At least the arguing was over. It was done.

* * * * *

“THANK THE GODS, you’re back!” Mhysra had hardly entered the rear gate when Milluqua pounced. “Don’t you realise how late it is?”

Too tired to have taken much notice, Mhysra glanced up at the tumbling snow as she was dragged into the house. “It slipped my mind.”

“Fool,” Milluqua growled, taking the backstairs and elbowing open the servant door to Mhysra’s room, where a tub steamed by the fireplace. “Get in and give me that uniform.”

Mhysra was happy to comply, moaning as the water enveloped her tense muscles. “You’re a miracle from Divine Lithaen, Milli, sent to aid me.” Ducking down, she scrubbed her hair and reached for the soap.

Milluqua held up the new breeches and tutted. “It’s scandalous the rags they give you recruits. Kilai went through two pairs in his first month. I’ll have some more made. Same pattern, better cloth.”

Yawning, Mhysra soaped her feet and scowled at a new blister on her heel. “What’s the point in using the finest materials when half of us will drop out before New Year?”

“Three moons? Ha! You think more of your fellow students than the rest of the city. From what I’ve heard they don’t expect any girl to last through to Winter Rains.”

Mhysra scowled and scrubbed her arms: Winter Rains was only a month and a half away. “I hope you took their bets, the insufferable fools.”

“Of course I did,” her sister assured her, pulling a dress from the wardrobe and brushing it off. “You should hear some of the idiots talk. And they call themselves gentlemen! It’s long past time we women shook some sense into them. I’m hoping you’ll be just the girl to do it.”

“Perhaps,” she demurred, curious about the sort of people she would meet in the morning. “If I’m not, I’m sure someone will. The Rift Riders won’t know what’s hit them.”

“Good. Now get out. Father’s been asking after you since noon, and if you don’t get downstairs soon he’ll know something’s up. You’re lucky Mother’s off sailing again. I don’t think we could do this if she’d stayed.”

Sharing a grimace with her sister, Mhysra emerged from the glorious water and dressed. As she was brushing her hair there was a scratch at the door and Milluqua admitted Bumble. Yipping happily, the puppy bounded over.

Mhysra fended her off with a foot. “Not now, pup.”

Bumble sat with a frustrated huff and started chewing her mistress’ discarded belt.

“Nuisance,” Milluqua scolded, tapping her gently on the muzzle and rescuing the leather. “What will you do with her tomorrow?”

Mhysra wrinkled her nose. “Not sure. Take her along probably. I doubt my teachers will approve, but I’ve nowhere else to leave her.” She sighed and plaited her hair. “What was Aunt Mhylla thinking?”

“Perhaps it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with Bumble,” Milluqua suggested, scooping the puppy up and tickling her silky ears. “She is rather fixed on you.”

“Well, she can’t have me. Not during the day. But if I leave her she’ll howl the house down.”

“Bring her to me before you go. I’ll look after her.”

Pausing in arranging her hair, Mhysra stared at her sister’s reflection. “You want me to bring her to you? To look after while I’m at school?”

Milluqua raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I said.”

Mhysra thought about the destruction her wilful puppy caused daily, from chewing everything within reach to making messes and smells in the most inconvenient places. She considered the perfection of her sister’s rooms and her prized collection of shoes. Then there was the fact that Milluqua rarely rose before noon, while Bumble liked to play in the morning.

She smiled. “You really do want me to succeed, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Milluqua confirmed, dumping the dog in favour of pinning her sister’s hair up properly. “Don’t let me down.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Don’t. Or you’ll be paying for every pair of shoes your wretched mutt wrecks.”

~ Next Chapter ~

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