Tag: Derrain

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 20, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch20.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

A letter from Nimbys…

MY DEAREST SISTER,
               I miss you already, and it has not yet been a month since you left. I even miss your bumbling pup, but I’m glad to hear you’ve settled in and hope you are well. I wish things weren’t as they are, but I would be lying if I said our parents are reconciled to your choice. Father wanted to petition the Stratys for your return, until mother reminded him that Prince Lyrai is a Rider and the Stratys might deem it an insult. There is apparently little they can do, so for now, you and Cumulo are safe. Relatively speaking.

Thank you for word of Kilai – a more hopeless correspondent I’ve yet to meet. I’m delighted he’s happy in his Rider life, but I’m more pleased that you are. You and Cumulo deserve your happiness.

Speaking of which, I’ve refused three more suitors. Father grows impatient, but two were older than him and the other younger than Kilai! Mother says I have gained a reputation for being Unattainable, so all the young cubs are forming ridiculous passions for me, certain to be the one who tames me. It is so stupid. One of these days I shall say yes, and won’t the fool in question be surprised.

It’s not that I enjoy turning them down – you know how much I hate it – but I’ve yet to be asked by a man who wants me for myself. The Kilpapan name and fortune are so attractive, but we have no need of advantageous alliances. Despite father’s blustering, your decision to enter the Riders has been met with nothing but praise. Everyone thinks you are terribly brave. The Kilpapans are rich and courageous, not to mention favourites of the Stratys.

Show me the man who has no care for these things, who sees me as more than an empty-headed doll, and I will happily marry him.

Alas, I do not think he will ask. Nor would father agree to such a match.

Did I mention how much I miss you, dearest? And your friends. They were so lively. I hope they’re all doing well. And your lieutenants too. How is Lieutenant Lyrai? And Lieutenant Stirla?

I wish I could visit, since you cannot come to me. A break from town would be most welcome. Guests from across the Overworld have descended for the negotiations over Prince Henryn’s marriage and Nimbys feels quite small. Crowds gather wherever the foreign dignitaries are staying and trail their every move. You’d hate it.

March Serfyn, from the King’s Council of North Point, is staying with the Fenhays three houses along. Father deems it unacceptable, though mother often goes out to catch the attention of the press and promote the business. She is quite shameless, but you already know that.

The negotiations might continue for another month! I shall go mad. Write back soon, dearest, and take my mind away from such things. In the meantime, please take care, and send my regards to everyone.

Love to you, Cumulo and Kilai.

Your lonely, spinsterish sister,

Milluqua

Mhysra folded her letter and grinned. She didn’t envy her sister in the slightest; seven months in Nimbys had been more than enough.

“Everything all right?” Corin whispered, filching Mhysra’s history notes. “Is your sister getting married yet?”

“No.” Mhysra tucked the letter under her geography essay and looked busy as Lieutenant Willym walked past. Study sessions were never fun when he was around since he banned talking, smiling or enjoyment in any form. Whispers rustled in his wake, stopping the moment he turned, but the students had become adept at avoiding his notice.

Scribbling about the gently sloping mountains and agricultural yield of the Lowlands, Mhysra kept an eye on the lieutenant. “She’s turned down another three.”

Corin chuckled, squinting at Mhysra’s notes on the reign of King Meryk VI of Scudia and the Jarl uprising of 548 CE. “I’m beginning to think your sister doesn’t want to get married.”

“She does,” Mhysra murmured. “She has someone in mind, but father would never agree.”

“Who?” Corin demanded, nosy as ever. Unfortunately, she forgot to lower her voice.

Willym pounced. “All done, Student Corin? And you, Student Mhysra?”

Since their tutors delighted in giving them more work than anyone could possibly manage, it was obvious that they weren’t. Excuses were pointless, though. They shook their heads.

“No?” Willym drawled. “Then what is so important that you need to shriek about it to the entire hall?” Looming over them, he poked at their papers with his flying crop.

Mhysra bit her lip, worried he would uncover her sister’s letter, since Willym read private correspondence aloud whenever he found it. Not that there was anything to embarrass Mhysra in the letter, but she hated the thought of others making fun of her sister. Thankfully she had hidden it well, and when Willym’s insolent prodding knocked a heap of papers off the table, she slipped it into her pocket.

After he’d disrupted all their things and found nothing but lesson notes, the lieutenant sniffed. “Report to the tanners on Starday. Two bells each. Don’t let me hear another squeak from you.” Slapping his crop against his palm, he stalked off.

Corin grimaced apologetically at Mhysra and they settled back to work in silence. That didn’t mean their conversation was finished. The moment Willym was across the room, Corin nudged a note towards Mhysra. Who?

Biting her lip to restrain a smile, Mhysra scribbled, Lt. Stirla.

Corin masked her gasp under a convincing sneeze. Poor Milli!

I know. Mhysra sighed, putting her geography essay aside and fishing her arithmetic notes out of the mess Willym had made. The sums looked no more appealing now than they had the day before, or at any point during the last quarter-moon, but they were due the next morning.

Lieutenant Hlen was no trouble, though. As long as the students made an effort, he treated them fairly. If they didn’t he looked sad, which was far worse than any humiliation Willym meted out. Dhori shoved a sheet of hints across the table to help her. Grinning, she set to work, while Corin ransacked everyone’s notes for more on King Meryk. By the time the evening bell finally rang, the students were more relieved than usual: the Willym effect.

“What was all that about?” Derrain asked as they left the hall.

“A letter from Milli,” Corin said before Mhysra could reply. “She’s in love with Lieutenant Stirla, but the earl would never agree to the match.”

Mhysra scowled at her. “She isn’t in love with him. They just flirt.”

Derrain chuckled. “That’s what Corin got you two bells in the tanners for? Poor bargain.”

“I don’t mind. They’ll give me stitching.” Due to Corin, Mhysra often had punishment duty. Now that she wasn’t being forced to sew useless samplers and handkerchiefs, she’d found she had quite a skill for it.

“Lucky you,” Corin grumbled. “I always have to cure things.”

“That’s because your attempts at stitching look like a drunk spider fell into an ink pot,” Derrain told her, using Mhysra as a shield against retaliation.

“He’s right,” Dhori said, sidestepping the scuffle. “It’s quite a gift.”

Corin appealed to Mhysra for support, but she shrugged apologetically. “He has a point.”

“And you call yourselves my friends,” Corin sniffed and flounced off.

After she left, Derrain turned to Mhysra and grinned. “So, is Milli really in love with Stirla?”

* * * * *

AS THE STORM season gathered around Aquila, the first-years settled into a regular routine. They flew every day, alternating mornings and afternoons, and the rest of their time was filled with lessons. On Stardays the whole of Aquila flew, the bells calling them out to the eyries without warning. The lieutenants claimed it was good practise to spring a surprise summons, but Corin thought it was torture.

“They watch me, they must do, because the moment I go to the privy the bell rings and I’m stuck with my breeches round my ankles!”

Mhysra wouldn’t have put it past Stirla, especially after the third time Corin almost suffered an undignified accident, but she couldn’t believe it of Lyrai. He was too steady, though a lot less stern and humourless now that he had Hurricane. He was certainly better than Lieutenant Willym. Was ever a man more contemptuous? Willym looked down on everyone, but saved a particular brand of disdain for the girls. He was as bad as her father.

Their lessons ranged from geography to cooking, with arithmetic and even smith-work to keep their brains and bodies busy. They trained with staffs before breakfast, followed by swords, then archery after noon, and were sent on runs through the citadel whenever someone felt the need to give them more exercise. Captain Hylan, whose students were in the upper years, particularly enjoyed making them scurry. As one of Hylan’s Riders, Kilai assured them the captain was the nicest, quietest man they could meet. The exhausted students disagreed.

“He does have a twisted sense of humour, though,” Kilai warned, but Mhysra and her friends had already noticed.

Bad weather became so frequent that even Mouse stopped twitching at the lightning. Only Dhori continued to care, his eyes brightest when thunder was in the air.

“You’re unnatural,” Corin complained during Captain Fredkhen’s geography class. “How can you stand it? My head pounds so much I could scream.”

Dhori rubbed her tense neck. “I never claimed to be normal. Who doesn’t love the raw power of nature?”

“Me,” Haelle croaked, head on the desk, in even worse shape than Corin. “I just want one quiet day. I don’t even mind if it rains.”

“I want to fly,” Mhysra grumbled. The storms had been so thick that she hadn’t so much as sat on Cumulo for six days, and before that they’d had just two flying lessons after a three day wait. Their current lessons were confined to the eyries where everyone was taught how to feed and care for their miryhl, with loud, unimpressed huffs from Cumulo helping to keep things interesting.

“I thought you liked thunderstorms?” Derrain said, copying the map from the blackboard.

“So did I,” Mhysra agreed. “Until I moved into one.”

“You’re no fun,” Dhori sighed, staring out of the window at the rain-lashed mountain.

“I never claimed to be,” Corin replied, and groaned as thunder rolled once more.

~ 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 19, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch19.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Let the lessons begin!

“GOOD MORNING, STUDENTS,” Lyrai called as he strode onto the flying field for his first lesson early the next day.

“Morning, sir,” the students chorused raggedly from miryhl-back.

“I said good morning, students!”

“Good morning, sir!”

“Better.” He smiled, looking at his nineteen students. They were a pleasant mix from across the Overworld, and he recognised about half. “Some of you already know me from Nimbys and the journey here, but for the rest, I am Lieutenant Lyrai and this is Sergeant Honra. We will be teaching you how to fly.” There was a ripple of whispers and he clapped his hands for silence, startling one student into falling off.

“On your miryhl, Mouse,” Honra called.

The boy blushed and remounted, much to the amusement of the others. While he settled, Lyrai studied the faces before him, their expressions ranging from smug to anxious. He hoped to cure both before the morning was over.

“As you may have realised, some of your lessons will be taken with all of Captain Myran’s students, others won’t. You’re all learning the same things, but it occasionally pays to lessen the odds of students to teacher.” A few people chuckled. “As you get older your lessons will mix with Riders and students from other years. Since you’ll be expected to fight together under the same captain, we expect you to train together too. It should teach you to respect those outside your peer group and perhaps help others less fortunate.

“All of Aquila’s students are Riders-in-training and we expect you to behave accordingly. Treat others as you wish to be treated and you can’t go wrong. After three years your time will come.” He paused to let his words sink in. After a long moment, he smiled. “That’s the serious stuff done. Let’s move on.”

With Honra’s help, he arranged the lines so that he could see everyone. “Introductions.” He pointed to the boy on the end. “Name?”

“Fhyrin fra Fhenlyn, sir.”

“And your miryhl?”

Fhyrin looked surprised. “This is Twister, sir.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Twister,” Lyrai said to the miryhl, who nodded back. “Where are you from, Fhyrin?”

“Seffal Falls in Kevian, sir, and I’ve been flying since I was five.” Fhyrin sat up straighter and puffed out his chest. “My father and two brothers are Riders.”

Lyrai raised an eyebrow at the boy’s cocky smirk. This was one he’d have to keep an eye on. For now, however, he dismissed Fhyrin with a brief nod and moved on, coaxing introductions from the rest, including those he already knew, until he came to the last. “Name?”

“Greig fra Jeign, sir.”

He studied the lad closely. His dark skin and brown curls identified him as Etherian, but there was something about the firm jaw and mischievous brown eyes that looked even more familiar. “Where are you from, Greig?”

“Cyrris Peaks, sir.”

Lyrai smiled, certain now. “You’re Lieutenant Stirla’s nephew.”

Greig nodded warily. “I’m his oldest sister’s son, sir. I’ve only met him a handful of times.”

“Lucky you.” Lyrai winked, pleased when the lad grinned, looking even more like his uncle.

“And your miryhl?”

“Jupi, sir.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jupi. I hope you’ll both enjoy your time with us.” With the introductions over, Lyrai paced back along the lines. “I hope you all will. Now, to work.” Putting his fingers to his lips, he let out a sharp whistle. High amongst the mountain crags, Hurricane screamed.

The students looked up in awe as the miryhl swooped, racing his rippling shadow across the grass. Circling around the field, Hurricane made sure everyone had a chance to see how huge and magnificent he was before he landed. Wings closed, he raised his head, marble feathers gleaming in the sunlight.

“This is Hurricane,” Lyrai introduced mildly.

Even Fhyrin looked lost for words as the students gazed at the impressive eagle, even those who’d seen him before. The miryhls all straightened, trying to look more impressive, except for a muttering Cumulo who raked his talons across the grass and huffed sulkily.

Lyrai chuckled and, using Hurricane’s lowered wing as a step, settled easily into his saddle. “Today I want you all to fly this course. It’s just a few small obstacles designed to test your skills, balance and flight craft. It’s not hard. I’ll go first. Watch carefully.”

They glided down the field to the obstacle course. As Lyrai had said, none of it was difficult. Hurricane dipped through the large hoops, swooped over and under the bars, and wove between the poles without Lyrai having to do anything. He just called out the directions – to the students as much as his miryhl.

As they swirled around the last pole, Lyrai plucked a flag from the barrel. Returning to the start, Hurricane landed gently, allowing Lyrai to plant his flag before the admiring – and faintly panicked – row of first-years.

“Well, Fhyrin? Are you going to gawp all day or will you fly?”

The boy looked at the course, back to Lyrai, then at the course again. While Fhyrin might have lost his cockiness, the shier students now gazed at Hurricane with wonder, no doubt dreaming of a day when they could emulate him. Lyrai had always known his new miryhl’s worth far outweighed his size and magnificence.

Fhyrin took off and Lyrai followed, calling, “Honra, you’re in charge.”

Gliding after the young pair, Hurricane murmured, “So this is teaching?”

“I hope so,” Lyrai replied, having only the vaguest idea of the role himself, and shouted for Fhyrin to start. The miryhl responded before the boy. Fhyrin’s nerves showed as he clung too tightly, hunching away from the poles and wobbling. Lyrai wasn’t sure whether to be appalled by the boy’s overconfidence or impressed that he managed to stay on at all. He foresaw hard work ahead.

Hurricane circled lazily above the course. “That’s a good miryhl.”

“Yes,” Lyrai agreed with a sigh, hoping he could train the boy to match as Fhyrin landed, flag in hand. “How come you miryhls do all the hard work, yet still make us look good?”

“That’s our job,” Hurricane chuckled, ruffling his feathers on landing. “You show off with weapons and strut about in shiny boots while we work. You get the glory, we the graft.”

“What do you get out of it?” he asked.

“Undying loyalty,” Hurricane replied tranquilly. “And a laugh when we throw you off.”

Lyrai chuckled and rubbed his bonded’s neck. “I knew there was a reason I had to be nice to you.” Smiling, he turned back to his students and the task of teaching.

* * * * *

DERRAIN SIGHED AS he watched Mhysra and Cumulo sail through the obstacle course, looking more impressive than even Lieutenant Lyrai and Hurricane had. “It’s not fair.”

“Life rarely is,” Dhori said, perched cross-legged on his saddle. It looked neither natural nor comfortable, but his friend was serene. Easy for him, Derrain thought with another sigh: Dhori had already proved he could fly almost as well as Mhysra. It was as though he and Latinym had been bonded for years, rather than a mere half-moon. It was quite disheartening.

“Practise,” Corin suggested. “We just need practise.”

“Fifteen years or so,” Mouse grumbled as Cumulo swirled around the flying field, making the flag in Mhysra’s hand unfurl with a snap. “I’ll never be that good.”

“Few of us will,” agreed Haelle, who had inched her way through the course already. Her black female, Thunder, was the most impressive in their year, but her pale eyes and watchful air made Derrain nervous. “As long as I can stay on in reasonable comfort, I’ll be happy.”

“I’m aiming a little higher than that,” Corin said, watching Cumulo land. “But I’m not a fool.”

“You’re next, Corin,” Honra called, and she smiled weakly at her friends.

“Start counting,” Mhysra chuckled, when Cumulo strutted back into line.

“Why?” Haelle asked.

“I bet Wisp finishes the course faster than anyone. Before or after.”

“Including you?” Mouse was convinced no pair could rival her and Cumulo.

“Definitely,” Mhysra and Derrain said together, grinning.

Mhysra ruffled her miryhl’s feathers. “Cue was too busy showing off to go fast.”

“Hurricane started it,” Derrain pointed out, making Cumulo chuckle.

“Don’t encourage him.”

“Hey, look!” Mouse pointed at where Wisp was already landing. “I barely saw them move.”

“Wisp of the wind,” Dhori murmured. “There won’t be many who can catch them.”

“Good for her.” Derrain flinched when Honra called his name. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck!” his friends chorused as he eased Zephyr forward.

“I won’t drop you,” the miryhl murmured soothingly, taking off. “You can trust me.”

“I know,” he replied. “It’s me I don’t trust.”

Chuckling, she circled, waiting for Derrain to give the signal. Lieutenant Lyrai waved them on and Derrain leant forward. “Go,” he whispered, and she angled into the wind.

Derrain’s heart hammered as cold air struck his face and they dropped to barely three feet from the ground, then lifted up. The moment of weightlessness made his stomach clench, as Zephyr tucked her wings in tight, then flapped again. They were through the first hoop. Another lift, pause, then catch and the second was done. The third took them higher, the fourth low again, but by then Derrain was used to the sensation of his stomach trying to fly free.

After that he relaxed, as they hopped over and ducked under the horizontal bars and wove between the poles. Zephyr took it gently, her flight so smooth that Derrain’s body easily followed wherever hers led. As he reached for the flag, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to sit up. Chuckling, Zephyr took a victory lap before landing and giving him a chance to plant their flag.

“Good,” Lieutenant Lyrai praised, and a warm glow gathered in Derrain’s chest.

He waited for Zephyr to hop back into line before he leant forward to ruffle her luxurious feathers. “Maegla blessed me the day She sent you into my life.”

Turning shy, Zephyr ducked her head and nudged his boot. “I like you too.”

“Not bad for a beginner.” Corin grinned, still excited after her own flight.

Derrain rolled his eyes and smiled. For the first time he felt he might manage this. It wouldn’t be easy, but flying wasn’t impossible either. Not with a miryhl like Zephyr.

“You’ll do,” Mhysra assured him softly. “We all will.”

“Maegla witness that,” Dhori agreed, just as Mouse tumbled off at the poles. “Of course, She may have to help some of us more than others, but She’ll do her best.”

“And it’s up to us to do the rest.” Mhysra winced as Mouse fell off again.

“Nothing like a miracle to start off our training,” Derrain said, leading the cheers as Onyx landed, a flag waving triumphantly in Mouse’s fist.

“Anything’s possible,” Dhori said. “Even miracles. We’ve got three years, after all.”

“Cheer us up, why don’t you?” Mouse burbled, bouncing in his saddle as Onyx rejoined them, the boy clearly ecstatic to have only fallen off twice. Some miracles might take more work than others, Derrain thought, but they’d be worth it in the end.

~ 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 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 17, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch17.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Are you read to set sail? Nimbys is behind us now, and ahead…

You’ll see.

Seventeen

The Thorncrest, 14th Harvest

The ship creaked and groaned as Mhysra stared at the slats of the bed above. She should have been sleeping, but the boisterous sounds coming from the common room next door prevented that. Instead she lay in bed, brooding. Cumulo would tell her to stop, but he was below with the other miryhls, enjoying himself, still half-delirious over the chase and catch of the Illuminai a half-moon ago.

She was alone – Bumble’s sprawled form across her feet didn’t count – wondering whether she’d done the right thing. Yes, her escape from her mother had been both necessary and exciting, and made her a minor hero amongst her peers, but the thought of what her parents might do next made her nervous. The Kilpapan family was rich and influential. Her father was favoured by the Stratys. If he chose, he could make her life extremely awkward. Would the Riders protect her against the displeasure of the Stratys? She was just one set of wings.

What about the rest of her family? Would Milluqua be punished? Would Aunt Mhylla still care for her? And Kilai, her mostly-forgotten brother, was the one she would likely face first. Would he be at Aquila? Would he take their parents’ side and avoid her? Was she really no longer a Kilpapan? Must she called herself Mhysra Wrentherin from now on? There were no answers and not knowing made her feel ill.

“What’s so fascinating up there?” The bunk dipped as Derrain slid in beside her. “No,” he murmured. “I can’t see it. Care to share?”

“I’m sleeping.” She elbowed him in the ribs, not that it made the slightest difference.

“With your eyes open and everything. Can you teach me that trick?” he teased, then pulled a face. “You can’t brood the whole voyage away. It’s a waste.”

“As if we’ve never sailed before,” she muttered, rolling on her side towards him and pulling her legs up to kick him off the bunk. He tumbled to the floor with an inelegant thud.

“Heirayk rose on your best side this morning.”

“Go away, Derry, I’m not in the mood,” she grumbled, shifting onto her back again.

“No, you’re in a mood,” he retorted, tugging her arm. “Come on. You’re missing the fun.”

Since they’d been sailing for eleven days, mostly over empty clouds, Mhysra doubted she was missing anything. “We’re heading north-west,” she complained. “It’s cold.”

“It’s autumn. Don’t be a wimp. Come up on deck. You know you want to.”

She didn’t. It was cold. Autumn was rushing to meet them and the crackling pressure in the air meant a storm. She had no wish to be outside when the rain started. He yanked her half off the bunk, much to Bumble’s disgruntlement.

Mhysra growled, “Get off me.”

“Not until you come up on deck.”

“I’ve been on deck. I’ve seen it. The ship’s nice, but the view’s just clouds. Clouds, clouds, clouds!” Her voice took on a hysterical edge. “I don’t want to see any more clouds!”

For a moment Derrain looked taken aback, then he grabbed her other arm and hauled her into a sitting position. “Because moping about over things you can’t change is so much better.”

She scowled, but didn’t protest when he dragged her to her feet. Maybe she didn’t fancy the bitter wind on deck, but it did beat worrying about the mess she’d left behind. “You win.”

“I always win,” he agreed, as Mhysra tugged on her boots and snatched up her coat.

“Coming, pup?” she called, as Derrain dragged her to the door.

Bumble opened an eye, groaned and settled back to sleep under a fluffy wing.

“I don’t know who I hate more – you or the dog,” Mhysra grumbled.

“You can’t hate me, I’m adorable,” Derrain protested, jogging up the first flight of steps and hauling her along.

“You’re right, what was I thinking? Of course I hate you more. It’s hardly Bumble’s fault she’s not stupid enough to do your bidding.”

“Such a merry temperament, love. Can’t think why you didn’t stay in Nimbys and get married. How the suitors would fight over you.”

Mhysra’s scowl wobbled as she bit back a smile. “Fight to escape marrying me, you mean.”

“Would I ever be so uncouth?” Derrain replied, attempting to look wounded.

“Idiot.” She rolled her eyes and scurried up the last ladder. At the top, a brisk wind slapped her face and she yelped, trying to duck back below.

“Keep moving,” Derrain urged, shoving her up again. “You’re not the only person on this ship, you know.”

“I’ll kill you for this,” Mhysra growled, tugging her coat collar tighter around her neck. She could smell rain. Why was she cursed with such persistent friends, ones who dragged her outside in all weathers regardless of her wishes? Ones with charming smiles and easy manners that meant she was the only person to see them for what they really were. Mhysra wanted to chop him into tiny bits and feed him to the pyreflies as a bitter gust tore her coat open.

“Glorious weather, don’t you think?” Dhori called, as Derrain shifted to stand in front of Mhysra, protecting her from the worst of the wind while she fixed her buttons and buckles. She smiled weakly. Dhori looked in his element, balancing on the side rail with neither coat nor hat. His eyes were bright as he jumped down, fidgety with suppressed energy. “A storm’s coming.”

“I know,” Mhysra grumbled, shoving her hands in her pockets and shaking the hair from her eyes. “You don’t have to look so happy about it.”

“It’s Maegla’s blessing,” Dhori replied, his smile serene.

Derrain snorted. “Clearly you’ve never sailed through a thunder storm.”

“He soon will,” Mhysra said, gripping her coat as another gust tormented her.

Dhori laughed, lifting his face to the wind. “If only. Did you come to see the view?”

“What, of clouds, clouds and more clouds?” Mhysra muttered, glowering at Derrain. “I hope that’s not what you dragged me out here for.”

The lads smiled and Dhori grabbed her hand. “Come look.”

“I’m too tired,” she protested as he towed her towards the prow.

Derrain nudged her shoulder. “The sooner you look, the sooner you can go in. Promise.”

“Fine.” She decided to humour him, using her free hand to hold her hair off her face. Rain splattered against her cheeks as they wove between the bustling crew. “It’s cold.”

“Hush,” Dhori chided. Icy hands covered her eyes and she yelped, but Dhori shushed her again. “You’ll spoil the surprise.”

“Your hands are freezing!”

“Sorry,” Derrain said, sounding far too cheerful. “But you’ll thank me later.”

“I doubt it.” She drew breath to start another round of complaints and Derrain removed his hands. Her breath caught in a gasp as she stared at the view half-hidden by misty rain.

“Sweet Maegla,” she whispered.

“Her greatest blessing,” Dhori agreed. “A good sign, don’t you think?”

Ahead rose a solitary mountain, its peak hidden by thick clouds, but it was more than a bleak, granite face. The first thing she noticed was the waterfall, cascading hundreds of feet down through the clouds below. Then she saw the white towers connected by a bridge, arching high over the surging river. The citadel, with its twin towns clinging to the cliffs below, crisscrossed with aqueducts.

The epitome of all her dreams: Aquila.

“Maegla welcomes Her Riders home,” Dhori whispered in her ear, and she blinked hard.

“I never knew… It’s so beautiful.”

“It’s rainy and bleak,” Sergeant Rees said sourly. “Only a female could think it beautiful.”

“Or a Rider,” Lieutenant Stirla disagreed. “We’re a romantic bunch, us Riders. I’ll admit this weather doesn’t do it any favours, but on a sunny day even you must agree it’s pretty, Rees.”

Tearing her eyes from the view she smiled at Stirla. “I look forward to seeing it in the sun.”

The lieutenant squeezed her shoulder with a broad hand. “Time to tack up. Mhysra, Dhori, you can fly yourselves in. Derrain, since you’ve experience of skyships, could you help my Riders set up the bullwing boats? It’s going to be interesting in this weather.”

“Aye, lieutenant,” the students chorused, saluting.

“Rees, you’re for the Miryhl Shadow. Tell Lyrai and Captain Myran what we’re about.”

“Aye, lieutenant.”

As the sergeant stumped off, Stirla eyed the three students still transfixed by the view. “It won’t vanish if you turn your backs on it,” he assured them, amused. “The quicker you do, the faster we’ll get there. Scat!”

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 15, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch15.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

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

Fifteen

32nd Fledgling

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he had to ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mother,” Milluqua wheezed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhysra!”

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 13, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch13.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

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

Thirteen

30th Fledgling

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really can’t do this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here.”

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

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

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

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

“Her name’s Zephyr,” Mhylla said.

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

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

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

“Beautiful.”

“Yes,” Mhysra agreed. “She is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 11, Part 3

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch11.3

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Argh, exams!

Don’t worry, though, there’s no test waiting at the end. At least, not for you.

LYRAI WAS IN a contemplative mood as the exams approached. Out of nine students he had some doubts about Naelyn, Devane and Mouse, but was mostly proud of his group. Jermyn and Dhori were naturally gifted, while the rest worked hard. It boded well for the future and he carried his good mood away from the morning session into the dining room.

“What are you so happy about?” Stirla grumbled, a pile of paperwork at his elbow. Never one to work when he could be having fun, he ended each moon with a two-foot stack and a bad temper. At least this month he had plenty of study supervision sessions to fill to help him catch up.

“Thinking of the future,” Lyrai replied cheerfully.

“I hate this time of year.”

Considering that the school exams always happened in the second quarter-moon of Fledgling, Lyrai knew he should hate it too. Five afternoons of dull prep sessions, supervising his students and taking questions – most of which he wasn’t allowed to answer. The sixth day was the written exam and the seventh was the physical. Hethanon assessed that and clerks marked the papers, leaving Lyrai and Stirla free.

After another quarter-moon, the results were given out and the real excitement began. That was why Lyrai was so cheerful: the Choice was only twenty-one days away. Soon he’d have wings again.

Stirla gave a surly grunt and reached for the top of his stack. “Knowing my luck my lot’ll ask questions all afternoon, leaving me no time to work. Stupid exams.”

Lyrai shook his head, not bothering to remind Stirla about his free evenings and Stardays. Instead he finished his pastry and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Good luck with the Paperstack of Doom. See you at dinner.”

Stirla grunted again, showing no signs of leaving. Lyrai pitied the students who had the lieutenant as a mentor. Remembering his own study sessions six years ago, he winced. No matter how often he’d been assured the exam was easy, he’d still fretted, certain that he would fail. He hadn’t, of course, and the written paper had been laughably easy, but it was no use telling the students that. It was something they had to discover for themselves.

The real test was to survive seven months in the company of Hethanon and the tedious clerks. If a boy could do that, he’d earned the right to try his luck at Aquila. The girls too. The reward was the chance to partner one of the most wondrous creatures in existence.

Smiling, Lyrai collected his subdued students and led them to a classroom, wondering what he would look for in his new miryhl. Twenty-one days, that was all, then he would be able to fly again. He couldn’t wait.

* * * * *

“GODS, IS IT really over?” Mouse stumbled shakily out of the room.

Walking behind him, Mhysra wished he would shut up. When Lieutenant Stirla had told them to stop writing she’d felt pleased, certain she’d passed. The questions had been as easy as everyone said. Or so she’d assumed, until Lieutenant Lyrai took her paper away and Mouse started moaning.

“Gods, Maegla, Gods. I’ve failed, I know I have. I know it.”

“Enough.” Derrain hooked an arm around Mouse’s neck, muffling him under his arm. “It’s done. You can’t change it. Give it a rest, before you mutter Mhysra into apoplexy.”

She jumped, not realising she’d been so obvious. “I’m not worried.”

“Of course not,” Corin chuckled. “That’s why you’re about to dash back inside and stab Lyrai with your quill until he gives you your paper so you can check if you spelled Aquila with two ls.”

Mhysra stopped, eyes widening. “It has two ls?”

Derrain and Mouse blinked. “I hope not,” Mouse whispered.

Mhysra grinned. “Got ya.”

Which earned her a round of quill tickling, until she protested that Corin said it and Mouse started it. Ever fair, they doled out punishment to the others and by the time they reached the streets they were all in high spirits, even Mouse.

“Went well then?” Harlan asked, as he joined them.

“Easy,” Derrain assured him.

“Could have done it blindfolded,” Corin boasted.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dhori tempered, smiling. “Perhaps with my hands behind my back.”

“Even you would have passed,” Mhysra assured Harlan, who narrowed his eyes.

“Must have been easy then,” he said, and smiled. “I’ll buy the drinks. You’ll need them.”

“A toast,” Derrain agreed, his happiness revealing how worried he’d been, despite all protests to the contrary. “To the easiest exam in history!”

The others cheered and Harlan smirked. “Well, that too, but I was thinking you need to keep your strength up for tomorrow. Doesn’t Hethanon get his claws into you in the morning?”

Their merriment vanished.

“You’re always the happy one,” Corin told him bitterly.

“So you don’t want a drink?” Harlan chuckled. “All the more for me.”

“Ha!” Derrain snagged his collar before he could escape. “With you buying? Who’d be stupid enough to pass that up?”

“Won’t get another chance this century, that’s for certain,” Mouse agreed.

“Better check your pockets for change,” Dhori advised. Cheered up, they spent the walk into town teasing Harlan and his tight-fisted ways, all thoughts of the next morning temporarily forgotten.

* * * * *

BY THE EIGHTEENTH LAP, Mhysra was struggling, but at least she wasn’t the only one. In fact she was close to the front. Derrain, Dhori and three others were still romping along at a swift pace, but they were all tall and athletic, and at that moment Mhysra hated them. However, there were only two laps left, so she pushed on to complete the first challenge, pleased not to collapse when they were finally allowed to stop.

Which was for the best, really, seeing as Hethanon was as merciless as ever, immediately pairing them off for the exercise routines. Finding herself opposite Haelle, Mhysra smiled and started stretching, turning to her partner when two people were needed rather than one. Then they faced a timed obstacle course. No one was surprised when Dhori won, while Haelle just beat Mhysra.

Then it was weaponry and more competitions to see how far each of them had progressed. Naelyn surprised everyone – herself included – by coming top of the girls in staffs, and placing fourth overall, with Mhysra and Haelle just behind. The top place was fiercely contested between Jermyn and Dhori. Jermyn came out the eventual winner, but only by taking advantage of a perilous pocket of ground that tripped his opponent. Corin came second in archery, beating all the girls and most of the boys too.

It was exhausting but enjoyable, and Mhysra was pleased by how well she’d done. Thanks to Hethanon’s rigorous training, she felt she’d acquitted herself well, as had the rest of her friends. Even those near the bottom, like Mouse and Corin, were competent. For the first time her goal seemed within reach and it was likely that all her friends would make it to Aquila.

“At last,” Corin groaned as the girls entered the officer’s bathhouse, which had been temporarily assigned to the girls over recent months. “I’m finished.” Stretching her arms wide, she belly-flopped into the steaming pool.

Jumping in and letting the heat wash over her, Mhysra sighed. The hardest part was over, now the waiting began. But as she scrubbed away the sweat and laughed with her friends, she was unable to shake off the feeling that everything wasn’t quite perfect yet. Perhaps it wouldn’t be until they reached Aquila. Or until after she’d finally told her parents.

Grimacing, she shook her head and let the warmth soothe her worries away. Their exams were done. Soon they’d be real Rift Rider students. Now that was something worth celebrating.

~ 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 10, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch10.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Gossip and grumblings…

Ten

23rd Sun

For the next month all anyone spoke about was the kaz-naghkt attack. Speculation was rife, though most reports were greeted with scepticism. Everyone knew kaz-naghkt came from the west, usually in large numbers – the only surprise was when they appeared.

“I ain’t never seen no kaznak,” a kitchen maid grumbled one morning as she wiped the work table. “I bet Riders make ‘em up to scare us normal folk.”

Eating her breakfast in the corner, Mhysra grimaced. She’d never seen a kaz-naghkt either, but the look on Derrain’s face whenever they were mentioned was enough to convince her that they existed. Not much made her merry friend grim, but the word kaz-naghkt never failed.

“I ‘eard they’re yumans what sold their souls to the Dark God for wings,” a footmen said, snatching a fresh roll while Cook’s back was turned and winking at the chatty maid.

She turned her nose up at him. “People don’t fly. Gods, or no. They ain’t real.”

“I ‘eard they was dragons from the Stormwash what lost their magic. Sounds mad ter me.” The bootboy shook his head, apparently disappointed by the world’s most ferocious enemy.

“Dragons,” the maid scoffed. “They ain’t real neither.”

Cook picked up a broom and poked the girl in the back. “If yer lucky Maycie, ye need never think different. Me, I’ll believe all kinds of things, so long as the Riders keep ‘em far from me. For somethin’ that don’t exist, plenty of people think they do. Call me a mug, but I’ll stick to trustin’ the Riders to keep me safe.”

The maid scowled as she took the broom. “I know what I think, an’ I’ll be stickin’ with it.”

How quickly they forgot Feather Frost, Mhysra thought. Not just Feather Frost, but Thrift Edge, Heston Point and Shune. All were Rider bases with reputations for defeating the enemy. Only Feather Frost was destroyed, but the others had been damaged enough to allow women back into the Riders.

Cook shrugged at Mhysra and snapped her fingers at the maid. “Floor needs sweeping.”

Not that any Rider complained if the city folk didn’t believe the stories. Better a sceptical populace than a panicked one. Not that there was anything to worry about, according to Captain Myran’s official statement. A small scouting party of kaz-naghkt had been spotted and sent about their business. Since no Riders had been killed and all injuries were minor it was easy to believe the placating words. But Mhysra didn’t and nor did her friends.

How could they when the enemy had been sighted over well-protected Imercian, to the east of Nimbys? Kaz-naghkt never came from the east. No one would bother making that up.

Luckily for the officers at the selection school, the majority of their pupils soon had other things on their minds.

* * * * *

“I DON’T SEE why I have to go,” Mhysra grumbled, tugging Bumble’s lead as she walked along the street with her friends. It was a glorious day in Nimbys, when everything seemed magnified by the sun. Cool water, sweet strawberries, the green mountainside, honey-gold streets – the dark despair of family machinations.

“Because you’re Lady Mhysra of the almighty Kilpapan clan, destined rulers of the world,” Harlan replied.

Derrain chuckled, swinging the empty basket that had been filled with food just that morning. “You have no idea how close you are. Be thankful you’ve never met her mother.”

“Or my father,” Mhysra added.

“Your mother is a hero to my family.” Corin laughed at the disbelief on Mhysra’s face. “The things she’s done with the Kilpapan business is every merchant’s dream. She’s a legend.”

“Yes,” Mhysra said feelingly. “I know.”

“And your father’s top of the tree too,” Mouse put in, struggling with his basket despite its emptiness. He collided with a wall, careened into his cousin and rebounded into Dhori. Not once did he stop talking about Mhysra’s father, his social status or the work he did for Stratys.

“Yes,” Mhysra repeated, after he finally shut up. “I know.”

Dhori smiled consolingly. “Parents can be hard to live up to.”

She raised her eyebrows, having never heard him speak of his family before. Out of all her friends he was the one she knew the least about. It wasn’t that he refused to talk about himself, he just manipulated every conversation so that he never gave anything away. It drove Corin mad.

“I don’t care about living up to them,” Mhysra said, exasperatedly. “It’s having to fight to make my own choices that bothers me.”

Dhori tweaked the end of her braid. “Well, you’re doing a good job so far.”

“That’s because they don’t know what she’s up to,” Derrain said. “Until now the Countess hasn’t been around to watch her.”

Mhysra scowled, not appreciating the reminder that her mother was home. Luckily it was Midsummer, a five-day holiday with the Feast of Heirayk in the middle. All celebration and no school. It was the perfect time for her mother to return.

Unfortunately it also meant the Midsummer Ball; an annual event held by the Stratys for Nimbys’ most important residents. As Mhysra had been allegedly receiving social training from her sister for months, her father had ordered her to attend. He didn’t want to waste an opportunity to marry her off before the autumn, no matter her age.

“It’s not fair,” she whined. “I don’t want to go.”

“You’ll enjoy it,” Derrain assured her.

“I won’t. You wouldn’t either if you were forced to go.”

“Since I’m not that point is moot.”

“You sound like Clerk Brenai.”

“Thank you, that was the tone I was aiming for.”

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Corin said, diving into their bickering before Mhysra could thump Derrain. “Think of all those rich, good looking, socially adept men.” She sighed. “Riders in uniform. It’s enough to make a girl swoon.”

“Not this girl,” Mhysra sniffed, though the prospect of Riders in dress uniform did make her feel a little weak about the knees.

“Lieutenants Lyrai and Stirla,” Corin continued dreamily. “Scarlet jackets and tight, white breeches, their boots polished to reflect candlelight. Swords at the hip.”

Mhysra said nothing, the image a little too clear for her comfort.

“And your sister is a leader of fashion,” Corin went on sulkily, “so you’re bound to look amazing. And Theryn will be there. If you dance with him I may have to hurt you.”

Though Derrain and Dhori were Corin’s everyday flirts, with the lieutenants as distant crushes, Rider Theryn was the one she truly adored. A redhead with a blinding smile, he wasn’t the most handsome Rider, but he was funny and popular.

“Is it still all right for me to come and see your dress before you leave?” Corin asked as they approached Kilpapan House.

“Milli says you’re quite welcome.”

“And can I -” she began, but Dhori clapped a hand over her mouth and towed her away.

“Until next we meet, milady!” Harlan called, and she waved forlornly as her friends headed into the city, leaving her on the doorstep with Bumble and Derrain.

“It’s just one day,” Derrain consoled her.

“And one night.” She sighed. “One very important, frightening and stupidly grand night.”

“You’ll be fine.” He patted Bumble’s head and ruffled her ears, before patting Mhysra on the head and ruffling her hair. “Milli will look after you. And both your parents will be there.”.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she grumbled, entering the house to the sound of his laughter.

~ 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!