Tag: Mhysra

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 18, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch18.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Miryhls and mischief. I love Hylan (just in case anyone was wondering…).

“DID YOU BRING FOOD?” Cumulo muttered, basking by a hatch, surrounded by dozing miryhls.

“Haven’t you had breakfast yet?” Mhysra asked, glancing at her brother who was greeting the miryhl beside hers – his bonded, Cirrus.

“Is that what he’s complaining about?” Kilai chuckled and removed a stray feather from Cirrus’ chest. “The miryhls get fed before we do. They’ll get more at midmorning, noon, mid-afternoon and around dusk. That’s the new ones,” he added, when Cirrus nudged him. “When miryhls first arrive the attendants feed them little and often, in case of delicate constitutions.”

Cumulo snorted and shifted, throwing Mhysra and Kilai into the shade. His stomach rumbled and Mhysra grinned. “Poor boy. Not used to short rations, are you?”

“The Wrentherin birds always feel the pinch when they arrive,” Kilai said, running his hands through Cirrus’ feathers, making her purr with contentment. “Aunt Mhylla overfeeds them.”

Cumulo glared at him, grumbling to Mhysra, “Is he calling me fat? Do I look fat? I’ve been living with the Riders for months, why am I not being fed like one?”

Someone chuckled. Standing on tiptoe, Mhysra peered over Cumulo’s back at Hurricane. He was dozing in the sunshine and eavesdropping. After a moment, he opened an eye and winked at her, before settling again.

“Made a new friend, Cue?” she asked innocently.

Cumulo didn’t reply, though their proximity was answer enough. No dominant male could bear the sight of another unless peace had been established. Mhysra sighed with relief. She hadn’t relished the arguments if Cumulo had decided to be difficult.

“That bird is a brute,” Kilai murmured, and Mhysra raised her eyebrows. “Hurricane. Unusual colours, but the size of him.” He whistled in approval. “Can’t wait to see him and Lyrai in action. The Riders really felt his loss when Froth retired. Good to have him back.”

When Cumulo shot Kilai a sour look, the Rider grinned. “No need for jealousy, Cue. You’re perfect, but I know you. And before you complain you’re wasting away for want of a proper meal, remember that your new friend is going through the same. Even if he is Lieutenant Lyrai’s.”

Cumulo perked up and looked at Hurricane. The marble miryhl didn’t even twitch, just kept on basking serene as a cat. When everyone stopped staring at him, he winked at Mhysra again, making her grin. She liked Hurricane; he would be good for Cumulo.

While waiting for the others to finish checking their miryhls, Mhysra perched on the edge of the hatch and rested against Cumulo. Lounging in the sun with her miryhl at her back, it was easy to forget that it was autumn and Aquila would soon be buried in storms.

“Pretty thing,” Kilai said, stroking the nakhound by his feet. Bumble wagged her tail, raised a wing and flopped over to present her belly for a tickle. Chuckling, Kilai complied, looking up at Mhysra from beneath his curls. “One of mine. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Don’t blame me,” she protested, knowing how possessive her brother could be. “She picked me when she was barely a moon old. I never encouraged her. I even left her behind, but Aunt Mhylla sent her after me, claiming she was pining. So I left her with Milli every day, but the stupid pup still wanted me. I don’t have time for a nakhound.”

Shaking Bumble’s waving paw, Kilai raised his eyebrows. “What a speech. Feeling guilty?”

“No!” She opened her mouth to defend herself, then noticed that Kilai was laughing. “Brothers,” she grumbled. “I haven’t missed you at all.”

Chuckling, he ran his hands over Bumble, spreading her wings, pulling the silky plumes on her legs, ears and tail. “She’s a beauty. Shame to lose her, but Mhylla knows what she’s doing. And if I can’t give a pup to my own sister, who can I?”

“You’re not taking her away?” Mhysra asked, surprised; Kilai was never so understanding.

His smile was crooked and rueful. “Let me have a litter or two from her and I’ll be content. I’ve never seen such perfect markings on the wings, though her body colours are a bit messy.”

“Messy?” she flared up, defensive of her pup for the first time.

Kilai gave a low growl. “I’m trying to be gracious. Take her and be happy.”

Cumulo nudged her and she took the hint. For all that she complained about Bumble, it was nice to know she could keep her. Something had tightened unpleasantly in her chest at the thought that Kilai might take her back. She glanced at the pup on her feet, surprised to realise that she did want her after all. Until Kilai said it, though, she’d never been able to believe she was hers.

Smiling, she looked around in search of a new subject before he reconsidered his generosity. Derrain waved and she waved back. “They’re done.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Kilai gave Bumble another pat and straightened up. “Best check they haven’t plucked any of their birds bald before we continue the tour. I’ll show you where to leave your pup later. The kennel workers will look after her while you’re busy. Come on.”

* * * * *

THE NEXT MORNING Lyrai took Hurricane out for a brief flight, to familiarise him with their new home, and met up with Stirla embarking on a similar mission. Together they checked their flurries’ miryhls, noting areas of concern before going to find their Riders. By the time they were finished it was midday.

“I could eat a horsat,” Stirla grumbled, patting his stomach as they entered the officers’ mess. “I’d forgotten how hungry real work makes me.”

“Well, look who finally showed up. We almost sent out a search party.” Captain Roumn was his usual charming self. “What’s the matter, lads, new roles got you confused?”

“It’s our first time,” Stirla said meekly, sitting beside Captain Myran. Officers generally ate breakfast wherever they could, but the rest of their meals were served in the mess. “We’re just humble Riders, sir. Can’t keep too many thoughts in our heads at once, it’ll weigh us down.”

“I doubt a thought or two would make much difference to you,” Lieutenant Willym remarked from the opposite side of the table.

“Well, we can’t all be skinny runts,” Stirla agreed mildly, and smiled at the stocky, dark-skinned man beside Willym. “Good to see you, Hlen. Sorry you got the arithmetic job.”

Hlen smiled shyly, only truly comfortable on miryhl-back or with a book in his hands. “B-better than survival. Uphill b-battle you’ve got, from what I’ve seen.”

“If I get too desperate I need only look at my friend here and thank the gods for their infinitely small mercies.” Stirla slapped Lyrai on the back, causing him to choke on his soup.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if he’d just sprayed you,” Captain Hylan told the cackling Roumn, while handing Lyrai some water. He was a big man like Stirla, making Lyrai feel small, wedged as he was between them. But where Stirla was gregarious, the captain was quiet. “Picking up where I left off, Lyrai? All the luck of the gods, lad.”

“You’ll need it.” One of Hylan’s lieutenants shuddered. “Give me history anytime.”

“As if you ever taught a lesson in your life, Brath,” one of Roumn’s lieutenants laughed. “You could fill a library with the things you don’t know.”

“Whereas Nimbys wouldn’t be big enough to hold your lack,” Captain Myran rebuked softly. “Even the best read amongst us could use a little more knowledge, Lieutenant Yordice.”

When Myran spoke everyone else shut up. Though Roumn was older and equally marked by Rider life, there was an air of dignity around Myran, even before a man noticed his limp or heard the story behind it. If family connections had netted Fredkhen for Willym, the mere threat of Lyrai’s had gifted him Myran.

The meal continued in silence until Myran cleared his throat. “How fare your new Riders, Hylan? Roumn doesn’t seem confident about his.”

For once the big man’s smile was smug. “Mine are fine. They’ve been trained as hard as could be without breaking. I’m fairly certain they can fly over a flock of sheep without baulking.”

Everyone looked at Roumn, some knowingly, the rest curious. The cynical captain’s cheeks turned red. “It was only once and it was foggy. Gods blast you for bringing it up again, Hylan.”

Hylan grinned. “Turn and turn about, old friend. All’s fair inside Aquila’s walls. No harm done.”

Fredkhen raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what I heard. Five innocent sheep paid dearly.”

“No, that was Roumn when the farmer demanded compensation,” Myran corrected.

“But still, no harm done,” Hylan repeated.

Fredkhen chuckled. “Except to Roumn’s pocket.”

“It’s good for him.” Hylan grinned again. “And we got mutton for dinner. Very fine it was too.”

“Enough!” Roumn growled. “Yordice, Thylek, round up the others. We leave tomorrow.”

“But it’s Half-Year!” his lieutenants protested, only to be silenced by their captain’s glare.

“We are leaving,” he repeated, and they hung their heads in defeat.

“Don’t be like that, Roumn,” Fredkhen coaxed, as the two men left.

Hylan nodded, sipping from his glass. “Yes, old man, no need to be such a baad sport.”

With a look as scorching as pyrefly breath, Captain Roumn stalked out. The rest hooted with laughter. Stirla was so entertained he reached across Lyrai to shake Hylan’s hand. Even Myran chuckled into his glass. Only Willym was unimpressed, regarding them like mud splatters on his best breeches.

They ignored him and the meal continued amidst splutters, snorts and chuckles as they baaed at random intervals.

A knock on the door was followed by a student wearing a green messenger cap. “Beg pardon, sirs, but Dean Marshall says the North Point ship’s docked. Officers’ meeting next bell.” He vanished.

“Fun’s over, lads,” Fredkhen announced, draining his wine. “Real work starts tomorrow.”

“Best of luck,” Captain Hylan murmured solemnly to Stirla and Lyrai, clapping them both on the shoulder. Then he smiled, an amused glint in his dark eyes. “You’re going to need 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 18, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch18.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Welcome to Aquila! :D

Eighteen

“GOOD EVENING, GENTLEMEN. Please sit down.” Former Flight Commander Marshall was an unassuming man with silver streaks in his dark hair. Having been the dean of Aquila for almost ten years, he’d overseen Lyrai’s training. So when he smiled, Lyrai fought the urge to squirm like a schoolboy, still unused to being called into the man’s office for anything other than a reprimand. “A well-timed journey.”

Thunder snarled as Myran accepted a goblet of wine. “We had fast winds, but only chance brought us in safely. The ships are moored at the caves.”

“Safest place for them, storm or no,” the dean said, waiting for his secretary to pass the wine around before opening the nearest ledger. “How many students, Myran?”

“Thirty-two,” the captain said, nodding at Lyrai to fill in the details.

“Nineteen from Nimbys, sir, eight from Storm Peaks, five from Sutherall. Nine girls, twenty-three boys.”

The dean inked in the numbers. “Thirty-two. A solid number. Made better for the girls’ presence.” He frowned at his ledger. “Added to the twenty-nine from Etheria, ten of which were girls, numbers are holding steady.”

“Any word from North Point?” Fredkhen asked.

“Word, yes,” the dean murmured, twirling his quill. “Thirteen students, including five girls. Hopefully they’ll arrive soon. Weather permitting. The storms are early.”

“More girls,” Rees grumbled into his wine. “What use will they be?”

“They’ve already bolstered the numbers,” Myran pointed out mildly. “If not for the girls this would be a poor year. Fewer are willing to risk their children for the glory of Rider fame.”

Dean Marshall set aside his quill and rubbed his neck. “Original application numbers were up on recent years.”

“How many of those withdrew after the attacks on Kevian and Cirrica?” Captain Roumn asked.

Fredkhen grimaced, which was all the answer they needed. “Two attacks in the Greater West, regardless of the low mortality rate, so close together… One could hardly blame parents for getting jumpy.”

“Because life in the Riders has always been sweetness and light,” Roumn mocked. “What did they think their children were signing up for, the Cloud Circus?”

“Thank you, captain,” Marshall murmured, his soft voice still retaining the power of a commander. “Until you have children do not criticise others about how they care for theirs. It’s one thing to hear of the glory of the Rift Riders, another to be confronted with corpses and casualties. Twenty-nine families of the Greater West have given us a glorious gift, do not scorn those whose generosity failed at the last.”

“We’ll see,” the captain muttered. “Ten girls, remember? Our intake may yet decline.”

“Have you seen any girls in action yet, captain?” Stirla asked, studying his nails.

“I’ve been trapped in this benighted place for the last five years,” Roumn retorted. “I’ve seen plenty of girls, for all that they call themselves boys. It might be refreshing to see how real girls train. Can’t see it’ll do much good, but there we have it. One voice is often lost in a crowd.”

“Wait until you’ve seen them,” Stirla advised. “You might learn something.”

Roumn gave a sceptical snort, echoed by Rees; the two men had always been likeminded. It was why Rees had been reassigned to Myran’s command a few years back.

“A time of changes,” Dean Marshall said.

Roumn shrugged. “I’m glad to be out, if it’s all the same. My penance is paid. Time to take my lambs into the wild, for all the good it’ll do.” He raised his drink in a mocking toast.

“Indeed,” Marshall murmured, closing his ledger carefully. “You may depart at any time, captain. Sutherall and South Imercian are in desperate need of your relief force. Everyone else, make yourselves at home. Lieutenant Lyrai, Lieutenant Stirla, I trust that you are satisfied with your assignments?”

They both nodded. At first Stirla had been sulky over his practical studies appointment – teaching students to survive in the wild, cooking, hunting and so on – compared to Lyrai’s as flight instructor. Both were equally important, but there was glory in teaching others to fly. Since the test flights, though, Lyrai was the one feeling hard done by. Still there were worse things to teach. Probably.

“Good. Myran, are you happy to resume your history lessons? We have Lieutenant Willym for politics and Fredkhen has agreed to undertake geography. His other junior lieutenant, Hlen, will teach arithmetic, with the usual tutors for the rest. The senior lieutenants will be allocated on arrival.”

Lyrai raised his eyebrows at Stirla and smiled. He doubted their old friend Willym had been happy with political history. He’d always fancied himself a better flyer than he actually was. Hlen was quiet and studious, but Lyrai didn’t envy him his assignment. Not that the dean was really asking their opinion. They were Riders who’d been given a task, and so they would do it.

“For now, gentlemen, have something to eat and reacquaint yourselves with the citadel and the gossip. Oh, and lads,” he added, causing Lyrai and Stirla to pause at the door while the captains continued without them. “Welcome back. It’s good to have you home.”

* * * * *

BY THE TIME Kilai reached the girls’ dormitory, Mhysra was yawning. Climbing up and down two flights of winding stairs had reminded her that she’d not slept properly for several days. The walk across the citadel and up another three levels had only made things worse. When Kilai left, all she wanted to do was pick a bed and fall into it.

A clamour of excited yips ended that idea: it seemed that more than her luggage had been delivered. She eyed Bumble balefully as the pup shimmied up to her, wriggling in a way that said she might like to go outside. Soon. Sooner than soon. Or there would be puddles.

“Corin, save me a bed,” Mhysra grumbled, opening the door and shooing her dog out through it.

After a long trek along empty hallways, she finally found someone to direct her outside. Since it was still raining, she then had to haul Bumble onto the grass and hold her in place to prevent her diving back into the dry. Looking pitiful, the pup went about her business and they dripped back inside. Now thoroughly lost, Mhysra wandered until she found more servants to direct her.

“We’ve got to find an easier way out,” Mhysra told the damp pup as she opened the dormitory door.

“Open the window,” Corin suggested, pointing to a bed in the corner beneath said window where Mhysra’s bags had been dumped.

Stepping on the bed, Mhysra peered out at the storm-thrashed darkness. A flicker of lightning confirmed how high up they were. “She can’t fly yet.”

Corin raised her eyebrows and Mhysra had to smile, albeit wearily. Bumble was flitting around the dormitory ceiling in a haphazard style, dripping over all the beds.

“Nakkies are lazy,” Haelle yawned. “They need an incentive to fly.”

“I know,” Mhysra said, changing into her sleeping things, “but pushing her out of a third-floor window seems a little extreme.”

“She’ll bounce,” Corin promised, collapsing onto her bed. “Nice. Feather pillows and a wool mattress. I could get used to this luxury.”

“I don’t care if it’s stuffed with rocks,” Mhysra groaned, flopping facedown.

“Puh. Her first night in Aquila and all she can think of is sleep,” Corin scoffed. “Some Rider you’re turning out to be.”

“Ask me again in the morning,” Mhysra advised, shoving Bumble away as she tried to lick her face and crawl under the covers with her. “I’ll be thrilled then.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Haelle chuckled, but Mhysra ignored her. Burrowing beneath the blankets, she cuddled her pillow and closed her eyes. When that wasn’t enough, she pulled the blanket over her head and the world went away.

* * * * *

“WHAT DO YOU want to see first?” Kilai grinned at Mhysra and her friends, all of them wearing identical blank expressions. “Oh, come on, breakfast wasn’t that bad.”

“Easy for you to say,” Derrain muttered, and the others grumbled their agreement.

Breakfast had been a noisy, chaotic nightmare. Despite having been woken at dawn by the deafening clatter of bells ringing right above their dormitory, Mhysra and the other girls had still been excited about their first day at Aquila. Until they followed their guide into the mess that was the dining hall.

Riders were everywhere, along with students, servants, attendants and all manner of folk that Mhysra couldn’t put a name to. It was chaos. No one sat on the benches, preferring to use the tables or to stand. A debate rapidly turned into an argument in one corner, needing outside intervention to prevent it becoming a brawl. Elsewhere a game of handball was played with bread rolls, while a pack of nakhounds rampaged at will.

Having heard so much about the vaunted discipline of the Riders, the reality was a little shocking. Haelle hadn’t been the only one to decide she wasn’t hungry, while the rest grabbed what they could and ran. The escaping girls had tripped over the retreating boys and decided there was safety in numbers. Which was when Kilai had found them.

“Breakfast is always hectic,” he explained, laughing at their dismay. “Students have high spirits, Riders coming in are light-headed from lack of sleep and the ones going out eat fast. You’ll get used to it. Come on, let’s visit the eyries and see how your miryhls are doing.”

Happy to get away from the chaos, the friends trailed after Kilai. As they walked, he pointed frequently, saying things like, “armoury, practise halls and bath caverns,” or, “kitchens, gardens, servant quarters. Never go there unless an officer asks. Anyone else is tweaking your tail.” Taking a narrow passage, he led them down a steep staircase and out into the glorious morning.

“This is the Lawn,” he explained, stopping to let them look around. “In summer it’s packed, but a little rain, as you see, is enough to drive any Rider away. Mud is not a good look and Riders are so vain.” He patted his black-clad hip and winked at Haelle, who blushed.

The Lawn was a strip of grass along the east bank of the river, wedged between the fast-flowing waters and the citadel. The wider field on the far side lay empty too, used for flying and weapons-practise if the targets were anything to go by. Curving around all, the citadel towered up and back along tiered terraces. The base of the valley was dominated by the river, cascading between two spurs of rock. A broader valley was visible beyond and Mhysra itched to go exploring. Tethered to her wrist, Bumble strained to do the same.

“That’s the lake,” Kilai explained, seeing what held his sister’s attention. “Wait until after the storm season to visit. You don’t want to be caught out by the rain, and at this time of year it either already is or is just about to.” He held out his hand as a gentle mist drizzled down.

Mhysra looked up, confused, since the sun was shining. The peak was shrouded in cloud and their little shower had drifted away from the main mass. She sighed and tugged Bumble to heel.

“Come on,” Kilai urged, walking across the Lawn.

Here were yet more wonders, and Mhysra wasn’t the only one staring at the sprawling giant of the citadel. Towers backed against the mountain, while cloisters and porticos kept watch along the terraces. Weather-bleached stone glowed in the autumn light and the clean, simple lines soothed her. There was nothing fussy about Aquila, nothing complicated or elaborate. It was the home of the Rift Riders, defenders of the Overworld, and it was beautiful. But it was the bridge over the falls that stopped the students short.

Realising he was alone, Kilai turned and smiled. “Quite something, isn’t it?”

What had merely been a port in the storm for Mhysra the night before was entirely different by daylight. The white curve of the bridge leapt from bank to bank, arching over the thundering falls. No longer blinded by rain, she counted three levels beneath the roof and blinked. Most of the bottom row was open to the elements and supported by pillars, leaving a clear view straight through. As she watched, a group of Riders walked across it.

The second level was a blank wall, where Mhysra guessed she had landed yesterday. Above it the third row was marked with more hatches, all of which were closed on this side. A peaked roof covered with slate tiles, glistening after the rain, perfected the image.

“The eyries,” Kilai said needlessly. “For students and two flurries. The rest are in the town, since it’d be impractical to cram them all up here. It’s impressive enough for what it is.”

He set off again, awestruck students pattering along behind, and at last Mhysra felt a frisson of excitement. This was what she had come for. This glory, this magnificence, this beauty. Here was the real Aquila. Not even the steep stairs up to the East Tower were enough to dim her spirits. This was Aquila and she was going to visit the eyries. Laughing with glee, she pounced on her brother and hugged him hard.

Kilai chuckled. “It gets to us all in the end.” Opening the door, he led them back inside.

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 17, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch17.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Aquila, at last!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said you wanted more adventure, Cue.”

“Must have been moulting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

“Pleased to be home?” Stirla murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 17, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch17.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

You’ll see.

Seventeen

The Thorncrest, 14th Harvest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heirayk rose on your best side this morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

Mhysra growled, “Get off me.”

“Not until you come up on deck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your hands are freezing!”

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

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

“Sweet Maegla,” she whispered.

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

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

The epitome of all her dreams: Aquila.

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

“I never knew… It’s so beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aye, lieutenant.”

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 16, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch16.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

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

Then the door opened.

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

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

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

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

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

Mhylla grinned. “Lunrai never checks her pockets.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You won’t be a Kilpapan.”

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

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

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Then: “Mhysra!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cumulo!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything.”

“Never do that again.”

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 15, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch15.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

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

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

“Kirdensk, mir ladai?”

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

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

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

“Thank you, umm, Tal…?”

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

Mhysra nodded. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So speaks my sister, the perfect mother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only if you will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lunrai laughed. “Preferably at my expense.”

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

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

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

Miryhls. There was miryhls out there.

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

He had found her. He had come.

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 15, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch15.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

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

Fifteen

32nd Fledgling

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he had to ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mother,” Milluqua wheezed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhysra!”

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 14, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch14.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

And everything had been going so well…

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

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

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

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

“Good evening, Mhysra.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My family lives at Wrentheria.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The door was locked. She was trapped.

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 14, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch14.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

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

Fourteen

 31st Fledgling

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cumulo puffed proudly, sticking out his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re always nice,” Mhysra said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always room for one more,” Corin protested.

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

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

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

Mhysra raised her eyebrows. “And you?”

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

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

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

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

“I am not a dog,” Mherrin protested.

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

Lyrai groaned. “Kill me now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a good miryhl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here comes Corin. This should be good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love flying!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stirla wrinkled his nose. “Maybe.”

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

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

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

~Next Chapter ~

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Thanks for reading!

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 13, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch13.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Party time! Bring on the captains!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She blushed. “You are too kind, sir.”

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

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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Thanks for reading!