Tag: Mhysra

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 23, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch23.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

One more week to go! *dances*

Er… I mean, the battle continues!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you smell.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 23, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch23.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Two more chapters to go!

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

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

Twenty Three

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One less enemy to worry about.

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

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

“Lyrai?” Stirla called.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maegla!”

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

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

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

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

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 22, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch22.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not my mother. She knows you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Reams,” she promised. “Is all well?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaz-naghkt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everywhere,” she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bells began to toll.

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

The kaz-naghkt had come to Aquila.

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

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

They slowed.

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 22, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch22.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Three chapters to go!

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

Twenty Two

24th Winter Rains

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked at her. She shut up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If looks could kill…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

“Cue!” she complained.

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

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

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

“Maegla,” Mhysra whispered, tightening her grip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too late – Cumulo was ahead.

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

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

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

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

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 21, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch21.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Bumble time! Not that Mhysra is avoiding things or anything, because she would never do something like that, no no.

THE BLIZZARD ARRIVED before nightfall, piling snow against the walls and covering the mountain in white. Brisk winds made the flakes flurry, sneaking in through the many cracks of the citadel.

Leaving poor Mouse in the infirmary, with some hefty puncture wounds to show for his adventure, Mhysra went in search of Derrain. “I need to visit Bumble. Want to come?”

He raised his eyebrows, knowing where she’d been. When she shook her head, he gave a dramatic shiver. “Go outside? Have you seen the weather?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why yes, dear Derry, I may have noticed a sprinkling of snow. However, I haven’t seen Bumble for days and if Kilai hears he’ll kill me. Come if you’re coming. If not, well, more cakes for me.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he grumbled, but traipsed after her through the eastern citadel and down to the kennels. A chorus of yips and barks greeted them as they crossed the frozen courtyard. The keeper in the workroom was Jynese, an Aquilan lass and a close friend of Kilai’s.

Seeing them shivering, she grinned. “Come inside, my lambs, before you grow icicles.”

Derrain hurried straight to the fire. “Heirayk’s sweet mercy on you, Jynese,” he murmured, chattering his teeth for effect.

“Poor boy,” she crooned, rubbing his back. With her full figure, green eyes and warm smile, she was very pretty and very popular. Especially amongst the boys.

“Sit yourselves down,” Jynese invited, winking at Mhysra. “I’ll get you a drink and see what else I can find. The dogs are being fed now, so I’ll fetch your girl in a bit.” She ushered them both into chairs, filled the kettle and searched the cupboards. When she was done, Derrain and Mhysra cradled cups of Mistrunan tea and balanced plates of apple tarts, scones and cheese slices on their knees. That was the other reason why Jynese was so popular, especially with the boys – she fed them.

“You are a prize,” Derrain praised, his mouth full. “You make the best tarts in Aquila.”

“My pa would disagree,” she chuckled, and as the town’s baker he was probably right. “But flattery is always appreciated.” She looked up as the door opened and smiled. “Kilai.”

Mhysra almost spilled her tea. “What are you doing here?”

Her brother raised his eyebrows and ruffled snow from his hair. “Nice to see you too, neglectful sister of mine. Remembered you have a nakhound, have you?”

Putting her cup aside, she wrinkled her nose. “I’ve been busy.”

“So have I,” he retorted, “but I’m still here. And I only just got back.”

Derrain chuckled, gathering the crumbs off his plate with his fingertip. “If I had such enticements I’d come straight here too.” He winked at Jynese.

Rolling her eyes, Jynese prodded Kilai in the chest. “Think of how much free time you had when you were a newbie – if you can remember that far back, old man – and be nice to your sister. I’m going to fetch the pup.” Patting him on the head, she trotted out the door.

While Mhysra and Derrain blinked to see the mighty Kilpapan heir treated so lightly, Kilai smiled sheepishly. “It’s refreshing.”

“Is that what you call it?” Derrain chuckled.

Kilai grimaced. “Do you have to say that in front of my little sister?”

More amused than embarrassed, Mhysra grinned. “I can’t wait to tell Milluqua.”

Groaning, Kilai covered his face with his hands. “Why couldn’t I have brothers?”

“Because you’re gods-blessed,” Mhysra retorted, enjoying the teasing. She saw her brother so rarely, since both of them were so busy and he spent most of his time away from the citadel. Spending time with this relaxed Kilai was a treat.

“What brings you back so soon?” Derrain asked, taking pity on the poor Rider. “I thought you were patrolling the Wrathlen until the end of the month.”

“Blizzards came early,” Kilai explained, easing into a chair. “Gods, we just beat this monster. Straight off the Stormwash and too big to sate itself on pirates. It chased us all the way home.”

Mhysra shivered at the thought. “Did you see much action?”

Kilai shook his head, smiling as Jynese returned with Bumble. The nakhound looked dignified and glossy, striped wings folded against her back. She trotted with her chin on Jynese’s hip, almost fully grown.

Then she saw Mhysra.

Yipping with glee, Bumble bounded across the room, clearing Kilai’s chair with a flap of her wings. Landing on Mhysra’s lap, she washed her face vigorously.

“See what happens when you don’t visit every day,” Kilai said smugly.

Jynese chuckled as she shared Kilai’s chair. “I’ve never met a pup so fixed.”

Shoving the dog away, Mhysra wiped her face with her sleeve. “Wrentherin trait. You should see our pack with my aunt. They adore her. Whether she sees them every day or not.” She glared at Kilai.

He grinned. “Mhylla feeds them. This one’s just stupid.”

“But beautiful,” Jynese protested, while Bumble licked Mhysra’s hands, her plumy tail wagging.

Sighing, Mhysra stroked Bumble’s silky ears. “You didn’t deny that she was stupid.”

“Well…”

They talked about nakhounds for a while, but eventually talk veered back to Kilai and his recent exploits. “It’s the strangest thing, sitting on the edge of the Wrathlen, waiting for something to happen. When nothing does you feel relieved, until you start wondering. Having an imagination out there is a curse.”

“So you didn’t see anything?” Derry asked, ruffling Bumble’s wings.

“Nothing worth noting.” Kilai got up to add another log to the fire. “It’s unnerving. If you see something, at least you know they’re there, being their usual vermin selves. But when they hide…” He shook his head. “That place has to be seen to be believe. A solid ridge, extending for miles, but the closer you get, the more crevices you notice, until you’re right above it and see that it’s rotten right through.”

“Like those who live there,” Jynese said, filling the kettle for more tea. “There was a nasty piece of work in town when I was a girl. Picked fights, bullied everyone, had a rough hand with the ladies and never listened to no. He fled to the Wrathlen before the Riders pinned him down – his mother smuggled him out, foolish old besom. Boy could do no wrong in her eyes. When the pirates raided Aquila two years later, she was found with a knife in her chest and a sapphire between her teeth.” She sighed and sat down again. “He’d promised to bring her jewels when he was rich. Some are born for that place. I used to wonder why the Riders didn’t destroy it.”

Kilai smiled sadly, winding a strand of her hair around his finger. “I used to think the same until I saw it myself. We’re too few for a rat’s nest like that.”

Jynese nodded. “I’ve seen it too. That’s when I realised nothing short of a gods-blast could clear the place. Even that wouldn’t get them all.”

“Do you think they’re up to something?” Mhysra asked to break the uneasy silence.

“Possibly, possibly not,” Kilai grumbled. “Lieutenant Brath says they’d normally hit Havia after preparations like this, but King Heryff did enough damage last summer to make even those pirates wince. I don’t think they’ll try him again when they have so many other options.”

“Which is a cheerful thought on a blizzard night,” Derrain said, raising a smile from them all.

“True. Let’s leave raiders and pirates behind, since the snow keeps them out as nicely as a pyrefly pack. Tell me what’s been happening here. What’s all this about Cumulo being a hero?”

Mhysra and Derrain exchanged a look and her friend raised his eyebrows, leaving it for her to tell. “Poor Mouse bumped another student in today’s group flight session and fell off,” Mhysra said, not wanting to get into all the details when she still couldn’t believe it herself. “Cue caught him.”

Kilai frowned. “How did he fall? Wasn’t he strapped on?”

Derrain shook his head. “Mouse wanted to fly without. We all do.”

Kilai’s frown deepened, but before he could say anything else, Jynese nudged his shoulder. “Poor lad, I hope he’s all right. Fetch the tea, won’t you, Kilai?” Sufficiently distracted, he got up while Mhysra told them how Mouse was doing. By the time Kilai returned, his lecture was forgotten and the subject turned to something else.

It was late by the time Mhysra and Derrain left the kennels, and it was a wrench to abandon the warm fire in favour of trudging back through the cold. Snow swirled as they leant shoulder to shoulder, wading through the drifts. It was nice with just the two of them, as it so rarely was these days. Mhysra even liked the snow dancing around the lantern that Jynese had given them.

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Derrain murmured as they forced open the door that led back into the citadel.

“About what?” Mhysra asked, blowing out the lantern and hanging it on a hook.

“What’s going on out there,” Derrain said, rubbing his arms and shoving the door closed.

“Mm,” Mhysra agreed. With the seclusion of the Storm Season being so quickly followed by these blizzards, Aquila had become a small, isolated world. She’d been too busy to notice.

“I’ve spent most of my life flying from one landmass to the next,” Derrain mused, throwing an arm over her shoulders as they walked through the halls, the pair of them huddling together for warmth. “I never thought I’d get used to being stopped for so long. How quickly we forget.”

“We’ve been busy.”

He nodded, watching their feet. “But it’s more than that. There’s just something about Aquila.”

“I feel like I’ve been here forever.”

“Me too,” he agreed, “and I’m not sure that it’s a good thing.”

She frowned. “Why not, since we’re spending three years here?”

Pausing at the stairs, he stared out through an iced window at the blurry darkness. “We’re getting too comfortable.”

“Derry?” she asked, confused as to what had brought on this contemplative mood.

Giving himself a shake, he smiled. “Don’t mind me, I’m just thinking out loud. Poor Mouse, I hope he’s not in too much pain.”

Mhysra winced. “They gave him something to make him sleep. It was strange to see him so quiet.” She stared miserably at the floor. “I feel guilty. So does Cue. Poor Mouse.”

“Don’t be daft!” Derrain scolded, shaking her shoulders. “Cumulo saved his life. If you’re looking for guilt, send it to the brat that hit Onyx.”

“He’s Kern Whittendowns’ heir,” Mhysra muttered, since the rank of kern was the Greater West’s equivalent to an Imercian earl. One of wealth and privilege, even here at Aquila where all were supposed to be equal. “Not to mention Willym’s favourite. He’s going to get away with it, while Mouse has wounds in his leg deep enough to make him limp. Maybe even permanently.”

Derrain hugged her tightly. “If you ask Mouse whether he minds those wounds, I’ll bet he’ll tell you he can cope. Better lame than dead.”

She sniffled against his chest. “It’s not fair.”

“No,” he agreed, stroking her hair. “But that’s the world for you. Come on, it’s late, and I’d rather not fend off Jermyn swinging sticks at my head when I’m only half-awake.”

She stepped back and nodded. “Good advice.”

“And coming from me, too. Proof that miracles do occasionally happen.”

Mhysra grinned. “Only occasionally? Should Dhori watch out?”

“I’ll try not to make a habit of it.”

~ 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 20, Part 3

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch20.3

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Happy birthday, Mhysra! Silliness abounds :D

FOR MOST THE Feast of Maegla was a day of private worship, but at Aquila it was the most important festival of the year. The citadel and town celebrated Her glory loudly, and She threw out the worst storm of the season in response. But most of the students were too tipsy to care.

“S’my birthday,” Mhysra said to the ceiling, but no matter how many times she said it, she still didn’t get any presents.

“I love you. Did I ever tell you I love you?” Corin told Mhysra for the fifth time.

“Yes.” As she’d said the same to Haelle, Mouse, Derrain, Lieutenant Stirla and Lieutenant Hlen, Mhysra wasn’t flattered. “You’ve had too much drink.”

“I like it!” Corin protested, as Mhysra took the bottle away. She tried to put it on the table and missed. “You broke it!”

“Didn’t,” Mhysra retorted, juggling it until she got a grip. “See, some left.” Tipping back her head, she drained the last third.

Corin stared at her in shock. “You drank it.”

“I did.”

“You drank it.”

“I did.”

“You drank it!”

“She did.” A veteran of intoxicating spirits, Derrain was still in possession of his wits. “And you’ve both had enough.” He hauled them to their feet. “Time for bed. Lessons tomorrow.”

“S’no point,” Mhysra hiccupped gloomily. “No flying, no fun. S’my birthday, Derry. Will you take me flying?”

“Not when you might get struck by lightning. Aquila frowns on that kind of thing.”

“No fun,” she repeated.

“I don’ wanna go bed,” Corin protested, tripping over a snoring student. “’m drinkin’.”

“I noticed,” Derrain said. “And now you’ve stopped. You’re done with drinking.”

“Nope. Gotta keep goin’. Buildin’ ma courage. Gonna get a kiss.”

Derrain raised his eyebrows, and Mhysra stopped grumbling long enough to swing around. “Wotcha mean? Where you gonna get a kiss?”

Corin giggled. “On ma lips. At first.” She winked. “Maybe somewhere else, if he’s lucky.”

Mhysra swayed as she tried to focus. “S’not what I meant. Who’ll kiss you?”

“S’secret,” Corin whispered. “C’mere, I tell you.”

They all leant closer and Corin bashed foreheads with Derrain as she planted a loud kiss on his lips. She teetered away, crowing, “Tol’ you! Tol’ you! I got a kiss!”

Lunging to catch her before she fell over, Derrain sighed and tucked her under his arm. “You should have asked, Corin. I’d have kissed you gladly.”

“Ser’sly?” she hiccupped. “S’that easy?”

“Depends how nicely you ask.”

She chuckled and cuddled up to his chest. “You’s nice, Derry. I like you.”

“Should ‘ope so,” Mhysra hiccupped. “Hate to think you go ‘round kissing them you don’t.”

“Don’t be jealous, M’sra, I kiss you too if you want.”

Mhysra cackled. “’m all right, thanks.”

Corin wrinkled her nose. “Can I have ‘novva drink, Derry?”

“No. You got your kiss.”

“Offa you, mebbe,” she grumbled. “Need more courage. Wanna ‘novva.”

“I told you to ask.”

“Not from you!” she protested, while Mhysra wandered into a wall.

Derrain reached out and snagged Mhysra’s wrist as she walked into the wall again, asking it why it wasn’t getting out of the way and didn’t it know it was rude to obstructify people in this manner. He reeled her in and smiled at Corin. “You don’t need courage, little one.”

“You’s nice,” Corin repeated, patting his cheek. “But I wanna kiss from Dhori. Where’d he go? D’you know? Oh! A rhyme! Where’d he go, do you know? I don’t know, where he go? Where he go, I don’t know. I don’t, I don’t know! ’m so clever.” She collapsed against his chest, staring up at him adoringly. “Don’cha think ’m clever, Derry?”

“Brilliant,” he agreed, staggering sharply left as Mhysra avoided another wall, which she was sure had lunged. They had it in for her, all of them. Evil walls. “Come on, girls, upstairs.”

“Stairs,” Mhysra whined. “They’re worse than walls. They trip you up an’ everything.”

“Stairs! I love stairs! ’m good at stairs!” Corin raced off, slipped and slithered down, scraping her hands but miraculously not flattening her face. “Did you see that?” she demanded. “It tripped me!”

“I warned you,” Mhysra said. “I told you they was mean.”

“You was right!”

“Is there any reason why we can’t talk like normal people?” Derrain pleaded, as they berated the stairs.

“You’re at Aquila, lad. There are no normal people here.” Stirla and Lyrai were watching their distinct lack of progress, bright-eyed with amusement. “Need a hand?” Stirla offered.

“Please.”

“Come on, milady. Up.” Lyrai pulled Mhysra to her feet and hauled her over his shoulder.

“Ooooh,” she groaned as he straightened. “Feel dizzy. World’s gone upsides.”

“No, just you,” Lyrai assured her, while Stirla scooped up Corin.

“You know, you’re not as grouchy as I thought you were,” Mhysra murmured to Lyrai’s back. “An’ you have a nice bum.”

It was Derrain’s turn to trip on the stairs, he was laughing so hard.

“Thank you,” Lyrai said gravely, not even flinching when Mhysra patted his backside.

“’m gonna regret this in the mornin’, aren’t I?” she muttered.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

As Lyrai carried her up the stairs, she remained quiet, though Corin was trying to bargain a kiss out of Stirla, who promised to drop her if she tried.

Then Mhysra hiccupped. “Ow. Your shoulder’s not as nice as your bum. S’all bony.”

“His bum?” Stirla asked.

“No, the shoulder. It sticks in my -” another hiccup “- belly. Hurts. Uh-oh.”

“What?” Derrain, Lyrai and Stirla asked.

“Feel sick.”

It was quite possible that Lieutenant Lyrai had never moved so fast as when he put Mhysra down, turned her around and boosted her up to an open window.

When she was dangling halfway out of it, she giggled. “S’rainin’.”

“Tell us something we don’t know.”

“Umm… Dhori’s on the roof.”

“What?” Stirla dumped Corin and ran to the next window, while Lyrai gripped hold of Mhysra’s belt before she could fall out.

“Are you done?” Lyrai asked.

“I don’t feel sick now,” she confirmed, then protested as he dragged her inside. “I like it out there. I like rain. Noooo!”

“Blast it, does he want to get killed?” Stirla cursed, leaning right out of the window to see Dhori on the high roof opposite.

“He likes it,” Mhysra grumbled, sliding down the wall next to the sleepy Corin. “He likes rain on his skin an’ thunder in his bones. Makes him feel good.”

“How do you know?” Lyrai asked in surprise.

She shrugged. “If you knew him, you’d know. He’s safe on the roof.” The rain had turned her maudlin. “Don’t make him get down. You didn’t like it when you couldn’t fly.”

Lyrai blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “Do you like it when you can’t?”

“Course not. It’d be the same for Dhori if you made him get down. He needs storms. Don’t make him come inside.”

Smiling, he hauled Mhysra to her feet. “I won’t. Come on.”

This time he scooped her into his arms rather than over his shoulder and she snuggled against his chest. “S’nice,” she murmured. “You smell better than my cousins.”

Stirla chuckled as he picked up Corin again, Derrain having disappeared. “Careful, he’ll think you’re an admirer.”

“I admire all kinds of things.” She yawned. “An’ my cousins smell terrible. Bet you smell better too.”

“He has a nice bum too,” Corin murmured.

“Who?” Stirla asked.

“You,” she replied sleepily. “Do I get a kiss?”

“No.”

“I tried. L’ten’n Lyrai, can I have a kiss?”

“No.”

“No fun,” Corin complained.

“I thought you wanted to kiss Dhori,” Mhysra reminded her, on the verge of sleep herself.

“Do. Wouldn’t say no to a l’ten’n, tho’. Keepin’ my options open.”

“Wise child,” Stirla agreed, but neither of the girls were listening. Both were sound asleep.

* * * * *

THE MORNING AFTER the feast, Aquila was bathed in uncharacteristic sunshine. It broke over the mountain edge and speared straight into the girls’ dormitory, where it was greeted with groans. When a maid climbed the stairs to find out why none of them had come down to breakfast, she was forced out under a rain of pillows.

Lessons for the day were cancelled.

Luckily for most, they had only hazy memories of the night before. Still, it was a half-moon before Mhysra felt able to look Lieutenant Lyrai in the eye again, and Corin couldn’t speak to Lieutenant Stirla for the better part of a month. Oddly enough, neither lieutenant complained.

~ 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 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 20, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch20.1.jpg

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Only five more chapters to go! The end is nigh… ish.

This is another three parter this week too as life in Aquila continues apace. Time for some long overdue sword training.

Twenty

20th Harvest

What had started as a normal staff practise in the drizzly autumn air, swiftly turned into something quite different when Captain Myran appeared. “Come with me,” he said and led them to the barn at the end of the field. It was empty except for the benches and equipment stacked against the wall. On the far side, an open door revealed a creaking waterwheel and somewhere nearby metal was being beaten in time to its thumps.

As the students filed inside, footsteps crunching over the sandy floor and drowning out the waterwheel with their curious chatter, the hammering stopped. Silence fell as two men entered. Neither were tall, though both had broad, muscular shoulders, ruddy brown faces and strong hands. One was dark haired, his face soot-streaked and sweaty, while the other had sandy-brown hair and wore a discontented scowl.

Captain Myran cleared his throat. “First-years, meet Derneon Weaponsmith Sohr diDeranon and Gedanon Swordmaster Sohr diGeranon. Your new instructors.”

Nudging each other excitedly, the students chorused, “Good morning, Masters.”

“More students,” sandy-haired Gedanon grumbled. “It is always the way.”

“And always will be, gods and clouds willing,” Derneon agreed, hooking his thumbs in his belt. Unlike his friend, he was smiling. They reminded Mhysra of Hethanon Armsmaster in Nimbys. Clearly all three were Ihran – a people not known for welcoming strangers. Derneon was probably an aberration.

“If we may begin?” At Captain Myran’s suggestion the three men sorted everyone into groups of strength and size. Only one group was different, containing broad-shoulder Derrain, slender Dhori, powerful Jermyn, willowy Haelle and a few other students Mhysra didn’t know so well. She did, however, recognise that they were all the best fighters.

“This should be interesting.”

Studying her own group, Mhysra raised her eyebrows at the boy beside her. He had merry green eyes and a jaw she recognised. He had to be Greig, Lieutenant Stirla’s nephew.

“Any of you picked up a sword before?” Ierali, a Sutheralli girl asked, sounding bored.

The group shook their heads. Swords were for noble lads; everyone else made do with bows and staffs, if they trained at all.

Ierali snorted with disgust. “With any luck they’ll move me up soon.”

“Too good for us?” Alyne had more height than sense, being a redhead of fiery temper.

Ierali sneered. “You northerners do not understand the intricacies of the Land of Light.”

Greig rolled his eyes. “Then spare our tiny minds the burden of explanation, thanks.”

Since arriving at Aquila, the Sutheralli students had found it hardest to adjust. Having all come from the warrior Storm Class of their society, they were equal to the Sky Class of healers, priests and priestesses, subordinate only to the Royal Sun class. This gave them precedent over practically everyone else. At Aquila all were equal, from the lowest beggar to the loftiest duke’s son, unless granted officer rank. Most of the Sutheralli behaved, but Mhysra could understand why this had been an insult too far for Ierali.

“You can’t stop them.” Russet-haired Jaymes smiled shyly. Though he sat next to Mhysra in Myran’s lessons, they had exchanged little more than names. “Once Alyne gets her teeth into something, she’ll go at it for days. We called her Terrier back in Farian.”

Watching the Sutheralli trying to use her height to intimidate the stocky northerner, Mhysra shook her head. “I’m not sure who I should be more worried for.”

“Ierali,” Greig said firmly. “Not even a Storm Warrior can outdo a Northern Red once they get going.” He tugged a clump of Jaymes’ hair.

The redhead sighed. “Don’t judge a man by his hair, lest you be judged by your family.”

“Ouch.” Greig grimaced. “I beg you, never judge me by my uncle.”

“I like your uncle,” Mhysra protested, watching their instructors hand out practise weapons.

Greig blinked, opened his mouth, then shrugged. “You’re Wingborn to Cumulo – you’re addled. I’ll pray for you.” Taking his practise sword from Master Derneon, he skittered out of reach before Mhysra could swat him with hers.

“I will hand you yours first next time,” the smith promised her with a wink. “Why are you making such noise, you pair?”

Jaymes and Mhysra’s eyes met in silent amusement as the Ihran separated the arguing girls.

“Ah, Storm Warrior. How could we forget?” Master Gedanon came over, stroking his jaw, and scowled. “Because we did not. You are poor at staff work. If your sword craft is the same, you belong here. If it is better, improve at the staff. Your past does not matter at Aquila. Pick up your sword and prepare to learn.”

“Remind me never to get on his bad side,” Jaymes muttered.

“He has no good one,” Master Derneon chuckled. “Grumpy, grumpier and annoyed. You will learn.” Winking again, the smith rejoined his partner to begin the unenviable task of teaching.

Captain Myran took his leave and the first-years were ordered to face the front. “We begin,” Gedanon said, holding a practise blade in his right hand. “Strike, then block. Like so.

“Strike high.” Extending his arm, he slowly swung the sword down from overhead. “Middle.” He thrust forward. “Low.” He swung up from his feet. “Left high.” He swung from his behind his right shoulder to above his left. “Right low.” He turned and crouched. “Left middle. Right middle.” He twisted from side to side. “Right high. Left low.” Mirroring the earlier strikes. “Now you.”

Gedanon called the moves and the students followed, some faster than others in their enthusiasm. “No!” the swordmaster shouted. “Slow. Accuracy is more important than speed. The body must learn this new weight and movement. Speed comes later. Now follow.” He led them through it slowly five times before he was satisfied.

“Good. Switch hands.”

The students blinked stupidly and Derneon smiled at their confusion. “A sword is the best weapon against kaz-naghkt. But kaz-naghkt have many weapons. Claws on hands and feet.” He curled his fingers and swiped across the nearest student’s belly, making the boy yelp. “Teeth.” He snapped at a girl and she squeaked. “Spurs on the wings.” He jabbed his fingers at two more students, grinning when they flinched. “Kaz-naghkt have weapons all over.”

“You must fight on all sides,” Gedanon agreed. “Switch hands.”

The students obeyed dubiously and repeated the strikes with varying measures of success. Yelps sounded as students were whacked on heads, shoulders and knees. Poor Mouse was bashed on the head by both of his neighbours when he swung too wildly once too often.

When Gedanon had led them through it more than ten times and the collisions had stopped, he told them to switch back, then introduced the blocks designed to hold off various strikes. When he was satisfied that they could manage with both hands, he paired them up.

“Right side strike, left block. Go slowly. Ready? High. Middle. Low.” After a few false starts and many bashed fingers, the students fell into a steady rhythm, keeping pace with the swordmaster’s voice and the clack of the swords. “Left side strike, right block.” They swapped roles and both masters walked around, adjusting stances and holds, raising arms or lowering them, bending elbows and knees. After the excitement Mhysra had felt at finally getting her hands on a sword it was disappointing, boring and painful.

“My arms!” Greig moaned after they were dismissed. “They feel like string.”

“String?” Mhysra grimaced, flexing her wrists and rolling her stiff shoulders. “Lucky you. I can’t even feel mine.”

“You’re so feeble.” Bright-eyed and with a spring in his step, Derrain rubbed her shoulders. “As if all these months of regular training haven’t built you up.”

“They haven’t,” Greig, Mhysra, Mouse and Corin chorused.

Sharing a glance with Dhori, Derrain shook his head. “You are such disappointments to me.”

Chuckling, Corin jumped up and ruffled his hair. “You’ll get over it.”

~ 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 3

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch19.3

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Story time! (Also known as a history lesson. I wish Myran had taught me.)

AFTER EVERYONE HAD completed the course, Lyrai made them fly laps while he conferred with Honra. Mhysra and her friends eyed them warily, wondering what they were up to, but the bell sounded before any nasty surprises could be sprung. Dismissing them to the eyries, the lieutenant warned that he’d see them again the next afternoon.

“We have to fly every day?” Mouse groaned, when they reached the eyries for their first lesson in miryhl care, thanks to the eyrie attendants.

“Every day,” Corin agreed with far more enthusiasm, but then she hadn’t fallen off.

“You’ll get used to it,” Mhysra promised. “Once your body adjusts.”

“I’m not sure my body was built for those kind of adjustments,” Derrain grumbled, wincing as he straightened his breeches. “I’m too old for these fun and games.”

“Positively ancient,” Dhori agreed, the oldest amongst them. “But what’s the point of joining the Riders if you don’t fly every day?”

“Precisely,” Mhysra agreed, kissing Cumulo’s beak and taking his harness to the tack room to show the attendants that she did indeed know what she was doing.

It was a sorrowful bunch who winced, limped and groaned their way through the citadel a little while later, when the bell summoned them to another lesson. Guided by an attendant, they headed up the mountain terraces of the western citadel, where all the classrooms, libraries and study rooms were. Three steep staircases later, they dragged themselves across a courtyard flooded with autumn sunlight and in through an open door.

The other half of Myran’s students already occupied the back of the room, while the captain waited at the front. The new arrivals were too desperate for rest to care where they sat. By the time they settled in the sunlit room, Mhysra found herself beside a stranger. She only had time to smile at the red-headed boy before Captain Myran stood up.

“Good morning, students.”

“Good morning, captain,” they chorused, proving that they learned fast.

He limped around his desk to lean against the front, smiling faintly. “Are you enjoying your first day? I trust my lieutenants are treating you well.”

The half that had been in survival studies with Stirla nodded, while the rest groaned.

The captain chuckled. “Those of you feeling the effects of your first flying lesson be comforted that your fellows will feel exactly the same by day’s end.” Half the class perked up, while the other grew alarmed. “But that’s for later. Now you’re with me. After yesterday I hope you all know who I am, but in any case I am Captain Myran Mylanri, from a little known province in the Lowlands. I’ve been a Rift Rider for more years than I care to remember, twelve of those as captain. And to get it out of the way, yes, I have a limp. It was gained on active service, some ten years gone. No, it does not impair my abilities as a Rider.

“And yes,” he added, noticing Mouse squirming in his seat, “it was a gift from the kaz-naghkt. I hope that sates your curiosity, but if not I will allow you time at the end of the lesson to ask questions. For now, we have other things to discuss.” Reaching across his desk, he turned over the sand timer. “While at Aquila I am not only your captain, but your teacher too. I will instruct you on the finer details of history – general and military, alternating the subjects on different days. We begin with military, specifically the Rift Riders.

“Can anyone tell me how the Riders began?”

There was a long pause. They all knew how the Riders began, everyone did, but that didn’t mean they wanted to be the first to speak up.

Dhori smiled. “Maegla made us, sir.”

Captain Myran motioned for him to stand. “Dhoriaen, isn’t it? From Nimbys?”

“I prefer Dhori, sir.”

“My lieutenants have told me about you, Dhori. Please continue.”

Dhori twitched his shoulders and took a deep breath. “The people of the Overworld were dying. The coming of the clouds had changed life beyond all recognition. There was a risk that humans would die out. A deserved punishment some said, but Maegla intervened. She spoke with the dragons and together they created the first miryhl. The dragons made other winged creatures, but the miryhl was the only one in which the Goddess played a role. As such they are precious to Her. With bullwings, pyreflies, horsats and doelyns to act as beasts of burden, Maegla wanted something more for Her miryhls.

“And so She created the Rift Riders. Protectors and guardians of the Overworld. They would ensure that humans did not repeat the foolish mistakes that had created the cloud curse in the first place. Above all they would be Hers. Forerunners of the storm, swearing oaths of allegiance, honour and servitude to Her above all others. They would dedicate their lives to defending the helpless.”

Captain Myran smiled as Dhori sat down. “Thank you, Dhori, a most comprehensive answer, and one I hear rarely. Yes?” he asked, as another student raised her hand.

“I heard that the kings of the Overworld created the Rift Riders.”

“Stand up please,” Myran urged the girl. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Lerya sa Nanya, sir, from Scudia, sir.”

“Please continue, Lerya.”

“Well, when the clouds came the humans struggled to survive. When things got desperate they sent to the gods for help. That’s where the miryhls came from, and pyreflies, horsats and so on.” She nodded at Dhori. “But wars were fought for control of these creatures, pitching mountain against mountain, range against range, all vying to own these marvellous beasts. Things became desperate, people were dying and the dragons refused to breed more winged animals, so the kings came together in a grand treaty.

“The Rift Riders were created to oversee the Overworld, owing allegiance to all, but to no single nation. Maegla became the patroness because of Her role in the creation of the miryhls. So I heard.”

“Thank you, Lerya.” Captain Myran motioned for her to sit. “So we have two versions – one concerning Maegla, the other unnamed kings from long ago. Has anyone else heard differently?”

He smiled as hands went up all over the room. As each of them were given a chance to speak, Mhysra’s head began to pound. There seemed to be a different story for each region and three versions from Imercian alone. They varied between the people asking for help – or kings, or war chiefs, or religious leaders – to a lone hero venturing into the Dragonlands to steal the secret of the miryhls from their closely guarded nests.

The debate grew heated, students rushed to defend their version from the encroachments of others. Ancient rivalries and grudges between ranges were stirred up; those from Imercian ganged up against those of Etheria; Lansbrig residents sneered at the Mistrunans; the Sutheralli dismissed everyone. Even Mhysra grew annoyed as her Lowland version was dismissed by some of the Storm Peak students. Voices rose, insults flew and the lesson teetered on the brink of chaos.

Until Captain Myran lifted his hand and said, “Enough.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the room still fell silent anyway. Red-faced students sat down, waiting to be chastised.

Settling back against his desk, Captain Myran smiled wryly. “I believe a point has just been proved. I’d ask if anyone could tell me what, but I fear what I might get.” The students chuckled and his smile warmed. “So you all know how the Rift Riders began. Unfortunately you don’t all believe the same story.

“But that’s all right,” he added, when several students cringed. “The Riders began around seven-hundred years ago, when writing things down was not a priority. There are few accounts from those days and they rarely deal with the formation of anything, let alone the Riders. But that’s our history, trying to piece together what happened from the slightest of evidence. Even those sources we do have contradict each other, depending on where they originate.

“My point is, we don’t know how the Riders started, but we do know why. And that why is as relevant today as it was then. To protect. The Rift Riders are far from perfect and there are parts of our history we would all rather forget, but our purpose has never changed. We guard the Overworld and our people from all the threats we face. In days past the enemy wasn’t always clear, but over this last century things have changed. The Overworld is always changing, but the coming of the kaz-naghkt is a change that united us.

“I won’t ask about the origins of the kaz-naghkt,” he warned, before anyone could start. “That’s an even thornier issue than the origins of the Riders. I just wanted to show you that history isn’t perfect. It’s as accurate as we can make it, but our sources are limited and often suspect in provenance. Yet we can learn much from piecing together what we have, and give ourselves a chance to fill in the large gaps of which we know nothing.

“That is what you will learn from me. So, let’s start with something about which there is no doubt. The founding and building of Aquila. Corin,” he beckoned her from the front row, “please hand out this paper. There are quills and ink inside the desks. You’ll be taking notes every lesson, which I hope you will supplement with further reading in your spare time. Notes are important, since they help record what I tell you and also enable you to complete your study work.” He smiled as grumbles rippled through the room, while Corin scurried about.

Silence resumed as the thirty-seven students settled down, quills inked and poised, waiting for him to begin.

Captain Myran smiled. “The year was two-hundred-and-eighteen of the Cloud Era, and the Overworld was in turmoil. Carrayne of Cirrica, head of the Rift Riders, had been assassinated. The Riders were thrown into confusion and the world watched, waiting to see where the feathers would fall. But as the elections for a new leader grew closer, there was increasing pressure from outsiders for the Riders to choose this candidate, or that, who would favour one kingdom over another.

“Out of this chaos rose a young woman, Jhydera, who claimed the allegiance of no land. She spoke of an independent Rift Riders, with no patron or politics, who protected all and favoured none. But where could such a force live? Where on the Overworld could they exist, without risking favouring one over another?

“And so the search for the Riders home began…”

~ 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 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch19.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Only a short bit today, since I had to split this chapter into three or give mega unbalanced updates. Which means a Wednesday post! (I’ll try and remember, it’s been a while.)

Anyway, it’s about time these Riders got on with things.

Nineteen

16th Harvest

“It shouldn’t be too bad,” Mouse said, as Mhysra and her friends walked through the eastern citadel. “Two captains and four junior lieutenants, right? They’ll just divide us into two for now. That’s not so bad. Unless you’re last. I mean someone has to be. What if you’re not picked at all? Can they do that? Has that ever happened before?”

Corin jabbed him in the back. “I’ve no idea and I’d rather not know, thanks.”

“I shouldn’t have eaten breakfast,” Mhysra moaned, feeling miserable.

Derrain rubbed her arm. “But you might have fainted.”

“Which would have given us a laugh,” Mouse quipped, ducking Derrain’s swipe as they reached the hall.

Maegla’s Hall was considered the heart and wonder of Aquila by many Riders and architectural historians alike. With its enormous, brass-inlaid doors flung wide to beckon the students inside, it was both an inviting and intimidating sight. As large as a cathedral nave, the floor all dark wood, polished to a high shine to reflect the glory of the ceiling above. Lavishly decorated with paintings of Riders, miryhls, dragons and clouds, its centrepiece was devoted to the Storm Goddess Maegla, patron of the Rift Riders.

At the front of the hall, gilded by the sunlight streaming in through the high windows, stood Captain Myran, his two lieutenants and four men Mhysra had never seen before. From her brother’s descriptions, she guessed the man in the middle was Dean Marshall. Straight-backed, of average height and with greying hair, he had an unremarkable appearance – until he glanced her way. The weight of his power and all of his authority was in his eyes: this man knew what he was doing.

The short, slender man with a cheerful countenance beside him had to be Fredkhen, rumoured to be the nicest captain in the Riders. His lieutenants were as different from each other as men could be. One was of medium height with a stocky build, his brown skin, eyes and hair suggesting Sutheralli roots. His hunched shoulders and constant shifting showed that he was uneasy at being the focus attention, making Mhysra wonder why he was training for captaincy.

The other man looked like a born leader – or at least thought he should be. Sternly handsome, with black hair, bronze skin and dark eyes, he was tall and lean, but he watched the new students with a distinct lack of interest. She could almost smell his contempt.

“Maegla save me from that one,” Corin murmured.

“Unlike you to turn down a pretty face,” Derrain said.

Corin’s smile was wry. “I’m not so blind that I can’t see the beast behind the beauty. Or the arrogance. He thinks he’s better than everyone. I’ll feast my eyes elsewhere, thank you.”

“All the more for me,” a Sutheralli girl whispered. “I’d like a man in need of taming.”

The dean clapped his hands and the snickering students hushed. “Welcome to Maegla’s Hall, friends old and new. Every Half-Year we gather our newest trainees under our wing, and it gives me joy to say welcome to Aquila, students. I hope you enjoy your time here.

“But first we must assign you to a captain. Don’t be alarmed,” he added with a smile. “With a captain you’ll have flurry-mates made up of not just those you study with, but all under your captain’s command. With a captain you become part of a family, of history, of the Riders. This is how it has always been and how it will always be. Over to you, captains.” He motioned them forward, Myran moving with his unmistakable limp and Fredkhen with his hands in his pockets.

“Some do this by rote,” Myran spoke clearly into the expectant hush. “Others choose only those they may have met at the selection schools.”

“We are not those captains,” Fredkhen added with a smile.

“I choose to put my trust in my lieutenants.”

“As do I,” Fredkhen agreed, a little less confidently. “Some decisions have already been made, but our lieutenants will still speak with you. All of you.”

“This is too weighty a decision to be dealt with in an instant.” Myran looked around the hall. “Please be patient.” Turning to his lieutenants, he indicated the students. “Choose wisely.”

Mhysra’s friends looked as surprised as she was. Nothing Kilai had said had prepared her for this. She’d expected to be split into the groups in which they’d arrived and be picked out by rote. Perhaps divided up and selected purely by chance. Or even have her name drawn out of a hat, though she suspected her brother had made that one up. Mhysra wasn’t sure if this method was better or worse than she’d expected.

While Stirla and the other lieutenants set about talking to groups of students, Lyrai headed straight towards Mhysra and her friends, smiling. “No need to panic,” he said when he reached them. “You must know Stirla and I have marked you down for us already.”

“Who have you marked down, sir?” Derrain asked, always the bravest when it came to questioning the lieutenants. Being able to look down on Lyrai probably helped.

The lieutenant checked their group and smiled. “You, Derry. And Mhysra, Corin, Dhori, Haelle, of course. And yes, Mouse, you too,” he added, when the boy stared at him with terrified eyes. “Relax. You all have a very boring day ahead.”

Weak-kneed with relief, Mhysra managed to squeak her thanks before sitting with a thump. Lieutenant Lyrai moved on and her friends settled around her, equally reassured.

“All that panic over nothing,” Corin grumbled half-heartedly.

“Panic’s never for nothing,” Dhori said thoughtfully. “It teaches us something.”

“Like to be wary of Riders like him?” Mouse asked, pointing at the arrogant lieutenant.

“Something like that,” Dhori agreed, smiling.

“Prepare yourselves for more wisdom,” Corin warned. “He’s headed this way.” They all tensed, then breathed a collective sigh of relief when the Rider eyed them disdainfully and moved swiftly on.

“Maegla be praised,” Mouse murmured.

Dhori smiled. “Thanks to halls like this She is, and always will be.”

~ Next Chapter ~

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