Tag: Nimbys

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 16, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch16.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

You’re getting this early this week, because I won’t have a chance to post tomorrow. Although maybe leave it until tomorrow to read, or even Sunday, because I don’t want you to throw things at me for this ending.

In other words – the chase is on!

Sixteen

THINGS IN THE eyries had been hectic all morning, the Riders still having to patrol while also preparing stock, supplies, miryhls and gear for the move to Aquila in two more days. Many of the miryhls were fretting with excitement. Though most abhorred the long ship flight to Aquila, they were looking forward to the change of scenery.

Of them all, however, Cumulo seemed the most agitated. In fact, if Lyrai hadn’t known better, he would have thought there was something wrong with the Wingborn. The way he baited from foot to foot on his perch and paced the walkway when it was clear, spoke of something more than excitement and nerves over the upcoming move.

He’d asked Hurricane if there was something wrong – being unable to ask the Wingborn himself – but his miryhl had shaken his head and flicked his wings.

“If there is he won’t say.”

Hoping that it was nothing more than pre-Aquila nerves, Lyrai shrugged and readied Hurricane for their upcoming patrol.

Then Milluqua arrived, an uproar exploded and Cumulo started screaming for Mhysra.

“Cane, stop him!” Lyrai ordered, worried the young miryhl would try to track down his missing Wingborn alone.

Hurricane didn’t argue and, with the help of several other big miryhls, managed to corral Cumulo long enough to calm him. He stopped screaming but continued to bait, chest heaving with emotion.

“Tack me up,” he muttered to no one in particular. “You must tack me up. I can fetch her. I can bring her back. Make me ready. There won’t be time. We have to hurry.”

When no one moved, most too stunned at hearing a miryhl talking so freely without his Rider present, Cumulo cast a golden-eyed glare at the watchers and shouted, “Do it!”

Hurricane caught Lyrai’s eye and nodded, sending him darting for the tackroom. Corin was already there, searching the pegs for Cumulo’s bridle, his saddle already slung over her arm.

“Good girl,” Lyrai praised, reaching past her for the bridle beside Hurricane’s. “Let’s go.”

Seeing them approach with his things, Cumulo held still, but he was trembling, feathers puffed up, shaking with restraint. Lyrai knew the moment he finished with the bridle Cumulo would go, so he ordered Honra to have his flurry mount up and prepared a message for Stirla as soon as he returned from his patrol.

“Derrain’s gone to find where the Illuminai went,” Corin murmured to Lyrai as she fumbled with the straps of Cumulo’s breastplate.

Taking over, Lyrai sent her a grateful smile, reaching down to check the breastplate was threaded through the girth before he checked and tightened those straps.

“They’ll be headed for Wrentheria,” Cumulo muttered, flexing his wings. “Mhylla and the cousins are going home. That’s where she’ll have her. That’s where they’ll be going. Buckle me tight, I can take it.”

Lyrai dared to put a hand on Cumulo’s shivering wing. “Probably,” he told the miryhl, answering his earlier comments before complying with the last. “But Derrain will know for sure. It won’t hurt to wait a little longer.”

“Too long, too long,” Cumulo fretted, baiting from foot to foot again. “She might hurt her.”

Though he doubted it, since it wasn’t in the countess’ best interest to injure her own daughter, Lyrai didn’t argue. The Wingborn was not rational at the moment, and Lyrai had no wish to antagonise him further.

“Wait for Derry, Cue, that’s all I ask.”

At first Lyrai didn’t think Cumulo had heard, then the Wingborn stilled and lowered his head, heaving a heavy sigh. “I’ll wait for Derry.”

“Thank you.” Trusting the miryhl to keep his word, Lyrai rushed to prepare Hurricane. Checking the straps one last time, he shrugged into the flying coat a student was holding for him. It took no time at all to buckle the holding straps into place, then he pulled on his flying hat and checked his goggles were clear. This was going to be a hard, long flight into unknown weather and he wanted to be ready for anything.

“Honra, stay here and take half the flurry out on patrol,” Lyrai said to his sergeant as he pulled on his gloves. “Make sure none of the students try to follow. Corin and Derry are usually a sensible pair, but I can’t trust them with this.”

“And Dhori?” his sergeant asked.

Lyrai looked over his shoulder at where Mhysra’s students friends – minus Derry – were huddled by the door. He wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying, but Dhori was holding Mouse in place with his hands on his shoulders and talking earnestly.

Flexing his fingers to loosen the leather of his gloves, Lyrai sighed. “If it’ll appease the others, let him come. I doubt you could stop him anyway. Tie Mouse up if you have to.”

The corner of Honra’s mouth curled up in a wry smile. “I’ll lock him in the feed room.”

“Good man.” He slapped his sergeant on the shoulder, just as Derrain ran into the eyries, sweat-soaked and panting.

“Wrentheria,” he gasped, falling to his knees. “They’re going to Wrentheria.”

Cumulo shrieked and pinned Lyrai beneath his golden glare. “Now, lieutenant?”

“Aye, now,” Lyrai agreed, springing into Hurricane’s saddle. “Riders, to wing!”

* * * * *

THE FLIGHT WAS as long and hard as Lyrai had expected, and there were many times when he feared they might lose sight of Cumulo altogether. He truly was a most impressive miryhl, and the added incentive of regaining his kidnapped Wingborn made him almost too fast to follow. Thankfully, with half his flurry at his back and the mysterious Dhori alongside him, Lyrai’s worries never quite came true. Yes, Cumulo was fast and determined, but even he had to slow down occasionally for a gliding rest as they flew through the morning and deep into the afternoon.

Lyrai had never been so relieved to see a skyship in his life as when the Illuminai finally drifted into view, flying high above the Cloud Sea, sails fully extended, the green and silver gasbags proclaiming its Kilpapan ownership to the Overworld.

He hardly needed Cumulo’s screech of recognition, though it did prepare him for when Hurricane soared in pursuit of the darting Wingborn.

They’d made it, they’d found the Illuminai. Now all they had to do was convince the countess to let her daughter go.

As they drew closer to the ship, Cumulo flared his wings to slow down, finally realising that he couldn’t do this alone. They needed a plan, and Lyrai would probably be the one to execute it. He twisted in his saddle until he found Dhori and Latinym, gliding alongside, several wingspans to the left.

“Any ideas?” Lyrai shouted over to the student.

Dhori grinned. “A few.”

Which was more than Lyrai had. Urging Hurricane to turn, he swept in a broad circle around the twelve Riders from his flurry. Using the Rift Rider code of hand and arm gestures, he soon had his men arranged as he wished, surrounding the ship, then flew back towards Dhori and Cumulo.

“You, circle until I call for you,” he told the Wingborn, not trusting the brash youngster to hold his tongue. Though Lyrai sympathised with his troubles, he also didn’t want him to ruin everything. Not that Lyrai was confident about any of this, in which case it would be best to keep Cumulo in reserve anyway. “I mean it. Stay away from the deck unless I call you.”

He saw the miryhl’s beak moving, no doubt muttering curses down upon his head, but eventually the Wingborn nodded. “Aye, sir.”

“Good. Dhori, you’re with me.”

The student saluted and urged Latinym alongside Hurricane as the two miryhls dived towards the ship, taking care not to get tangled in either the sails or the gasbags.

“Do you have a plan, sir?” Dhori called, as they circled over the top gasbag and down beneath the Illuminai’s hull.

“No,” Lyrai shouted back. “I’m making it up as I go along.”

As Dhori laughed, Hurricane shot up the starboard side of the Illuminai, came level with the deck and twisted. With a flare of his enormous, marbled wings the great miryhl swooped over the guard rail, scattering skysailors as he landed in the middle of the deck.

Amidst the ensuing confusion of men tumbling out of the way, Latinym hopped the rail himself and joined the other miryhl on the Illuminai.

Not that Lyrai was paying attention. His eyes were firmly fixed on the woman standing halfway up the stairs to the wheelhouse. Slender and small though she was, only a fool would think Lunrai, Countess Kilpapan was weak. Her curly black hair had been ruthlessly pinned back, her sharp chin was tilted at a haughty angle and she met Lyrai’s gaze with the imperious confidence of a queen.

“Welcome aboard the Illuminai, lieutenant,” she greeted coolly. “To what do we owe this unexpected honour? Are the Rift Riders performing customs checks these days?” Her words created a ripple of nervous laughter amongst her crew, but Lyrai kept his eyes solely on her.

“Only for contraband, Countess.”

She smiled. “I’ll think you’ll find everything in the hull is bought, paid for and fully verified, lieutenant. Kilpapans have never been afraid of taxes.”

“I believe human trafficking is a new enterprise for your family, and hard to tax too, being illegal in all Overworld states.”

Her smile didn’t falter. “I believe you are mistaken, sir. All the people we have on this ship are either crew or paying passenger.”

“All except one, my lady,” he countered, watching as she descended the rest of the stairs to stand before the door to the staterooms below the wheelhouse. “And that is who we’ve come to collect.”

Lady Kilpapan folded her arms across her chest. “I have no idea what you mean.”

It was Lyrai’s turn to smile. “I mean your daughter, Countess. We’ve come for Lady Mhysra, and we do not intend to leave without her.”

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 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 ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 13, Part 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 ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 13, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch13.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

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

Thirteen

30th Fledgling

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really can’t do this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here.”

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

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

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

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

“Her name’s Zephyr,” Mhylla said.

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

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

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

“Beautiful.”

“Yes,” Mhysra agreed. “She is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 12, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch12.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

We’re halfway! And to celebrate, Lyrai’s getting a present. All brace for the Hurricane.

LYRAI WAS IN LOVE. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Not to mention the most frustrating. The last of the Storm Peak miryhls refused to enter the temporary eyries and, as part of that refusal, would not be caught. A brute of a bird, the eagle was almost as tall as Cumulo but wider across the chest. It looked powerful and fierce, hissing at anyone who came too close.

Riders made loops out of their ropes and tried to restrain it, but the miryhl was too quick. Surprisingly nimble, it skipped out of reach, catching the loop in its beak, before tossing it contemptuously back.

Lyrai smiled at its antics, seduced by the big creature’s grace. It was an unusual colour: deep brown and pale cream mottled in an extraordinary mixture. A marble miryhl. He’d heard of them and always thought they sounded ugly. Standing before such a magnificent specimen now, though, he could see only beauty.

The miryhl’s face was the shade of sun-warmed pine, with dark circles around golden eyes. The crown of its head was the same darkness, continuing in a broad stripe down its neck and across its back, running in bars along its wings. The feathers on the underside of its body and chest were marbled from white to a brown so dark it was almost black. The wings were cream and biscuit between the dark bars, running into brown at the tips. Delicate flecks of caramel, gold and black dotted its feathers, like sparkles and secrets.

Lyrai was infatuated. There was no doubt in his mind which miryhl he would choose come the Choice, but only if the Riders didn’t drive it off first with their ineptitude.

Stirla whistled beside him. “I’ve not been so impressed since I first saw Cumulo.”

Lyrai snorted. “As that was barely a half-year ago, forgive me for not swooning.”

“Ah, but before that,” Stirla said airily, “the last time I was this impressed was by Atyrn. Not that either’s a patch on my girl, of course. Cumulo thinks he’s too smart and this one’s a brute.”

They both studied the brute in question as it ducked a loop, only to be snared by one thrown from behind. The miryhl wheeled sharply, wrenching the rope from the Rider’s hand. The eagle shrieked and snapped at all within reach, stamping on the rope and worrying at it with its beak, but only managed to tighten the knot.

“That’s not good,” Stirla murmured, wincing at the miryhl’s scream. Catching a second rope, the bird yanked the offending Rider off his feet. Only a quick grab from his friends prevented the man from being dragged within the miryhl’s reach. “You might want to intervene.”

“Fools!” Lyrai snapped as the miryhl tangled its feet in the rope. “They’ll kill it before we even get to the Choice.”

“Which is where you come in,” Stirla said. “Off you go. Pull on your captain boots and prove your mettle, or whatever it is we’re supposed to be learning around here.”

Lyrai eyed him sourly, but didn’t even bother asking why his friend didn’t do something himself. Some things were not worth the bother of putting into words. Besides this was his miryhl – it was up to him to save it.

The eagle lunged again, tripping and splaying its gorgeous wings. The Riders pounced, eager to secure it while it was preoccupied. The miryhl panicked, trying to regain its tangled feet and flapping its wings to keep the intruders at bay. More than one flight feather was damaged as they were flailed against the ground.

Sergeant Rees stamped on the miryhl’s wing to hold it down while he attempted to put a rope around the bird. Rolling to the side, the miryhl slashed out with its feet, knocking Rees over and very nearly slicing him from neck to navel.

“Enough!” Lyrai roared, deciding it had gone too far. “Stand down! I order you to stop!”

Rees struggled to his feet and found himself facing a furious miryhl, while four Riders roped its wings. They tightened their grip as the miryhl struck, barely missing the sergeant.

The eagle screamed, strained and freed a wing, beating it frantically and damaging more precious feathers on the sun-baked ground.

“Stand down!” Lyrai shouted. “I said stand down! All of you!”

By now six Riders clung to the ropes on the miryhl’s left, while another three had managed to loop its neck, but at Lyrai’s bellow they reluctantly let go. Even Rees rolled clear in the face of Lyrai’s rage.

“Back away from the miryhl,” he commanded, keeping his voice low, trying not to distress the bird any further.

“You heard the lieutenant,” said an unexpected but much welcomed voice. Captain Myran had arrived. “Timpkins, throw that rope and I will tie you up personally and present you to this miryhl for breakfast.”

Rider Timpkins dropped the rope as though it burned, and the circle of men shifted back another six paces. Everyone waited, looking between the miryhl and the man behind Lyrai.

A broad hand squeezed his shoulder approvingly. “Proceed, lieutenant.”

Not taking his eyes from the panicked bird, Lyrai lowered his chin in a grateful nod. “Thank you, sir. Forgive me for not saluting.”

Captain Myran chuckled. “Formalities are taken as done, lieutenant. Now soothe that miryhl.”

Lyrai nodded again and took a tentative step forward. The miryhl hissed and Lyrai sank down, resting his weight on his haunches. “All right, my beauty,” he crooned. “Steady now.”

The miryhl cautiously folded its unbound wing, though it kept an alert eye on Lyrai’s creeping progress. When he got too close the eagle growled, flexing its free foot.

“Steady,” Lyrai murmured. “You’re in a tangle and need my help. I won’t hurt you, my fine one.” Keeping his voice soft, he continued praising the miryhl and creeping closer until he was within half a pace of the sharp talons. The eagle scraped the ground but didn’t strike.

“Good, that’s good,” he praised, reaching for the tangled rope. The miryhl flinched, as did Lyrai, and both froze. They sighed in unison when neither struck and Lyrai slid his knife from his boot, careful to let the eagle see what he was doing at all times. “We’ll soon have you free, friend.” Reaching for the ropes, he sliced through a third of the thickly woven width before the miryhl jerked.

“All right,” Lyrai crooned. “Think you can handle it now?”

Watching Lyrai warily, the miryhl stretched out. With a crack of that deadly beak, it snapped the rope.

“Good,” Lyrai whispered, pulling the bindings free and taking care not to touch the miryhl before it was ready. “There.” Tugging the last of the rope away, Lyrai hopped back as the bird rolled to its feet, but when it found its left wing still tied it shrieked in outrage.

“Watch out!”

Until now the Riders have been mercifully silent, but as one onlooker shouted the obvious the miryhl remembered it wasn’t alone and lunged for the nearest target.

Swallowing hard, Lyrai dropped to his knees, keeping his hands low and his head bowed. A puff of air caressed his cheek as the bird’s beak passed but didn’t make contact. Not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe, Lyrai waited, watching the shadow on the grass as the miryhl loomed over him.

Warm breath separated his hair, then touched his forehead, nose and chin, before a smooth beak rested against his cheek and chest. Lyrai barely had time to look up before he was flat on his back, the wind knocked from him by a hard shove.

Deep brown eyes glinted as the miryhl arched its neck and put them beak-to-nose. “Untie me,” it rasped, and though its voice was hoarse from its screams it was also clearly male.

Lyrai blinked, stunned at being spoken to so causally. He nodded. “Let me up first.”

Huffing, the miryhl moved back a pace, allowing Lyrai to roll to his feet and snatch up his knife. In the end he didn’t need it, the noose slackened beneath his fingers and the eagle was free. The big male swung his head to meet Lyrai’s gaze, nodded in thanks and launched, broad wings opening with a crack.

“Wait!” Lyrai called. Buffeted by the downdraft as the miryhl flew into the gathering dusk, he could only watch with envy as the bird powered away. Lyrai wanted this miryhl; no other would do.

“Congratulations, lieutenant.” Captain Myran watched the glorious eagle swirl around the mountainside. “You handled that admirably. I assume you have no need to wait for the Choice?”

Lyrai barely heard the praise – a rare honour from his captain that at any other time would have filled him with pleasure. “He spoke.”

“I noticed.” Myran sounded amused. “Perhaps when he returns you should take him to the Rider eyries. I don’t think he liked the look of the other one.”

“He spoke to me,” Lyrai repeated, not paying attention. “Without a ceremony or a temporary bond. Or anything.”

“Yes.”

“I want him. If he doesn’t come back, I’ll look for him.”

Captain Myran patted him on the shoulder. “He’ll be back.” When Lyrai still didn’t look at him, the captain turned away. “Come on, Stirla, let’s see how the other new arrivals are faring. Your fellow lieutenant’s a little preoccupied.”

Preoccupied was not how Lyrai would have put it, more like ensnared. It was as though by releasing the miryhl from the ropes, he’d entangled himself. For the briefest moment it had felt glorious. When the miryhl loomed over him, capable of killing with one blow, he hadn’t felt afraid. His heart had pounded, but not with panic, and when he spoke Lyrai felt as though Maegla Herself had smiled on him.

Now all he felt was anxious. What would he do if he didn’t come back? There wasn’t another miryhl on the entire Overworld that could compare. It was this one or none.

“You have to come back,” he whispered to the empty field. “You have to.”

So he waited, while everyone else got on with their lives in the warm summer evening. Kneeling like a supplicant before the gods, Lyrai remained on the flying field. The first stars opened their eyes above him and the moon climbed over the Cloud Sea. Oblivious to the passing time and growing numbness in his legs, all Lyrai could do was watch the spot where he’d last seen the miryhl.

A cool wind drifted over the grass, raising goosebumps on his skin, but he ignored it.

Until a soft voice murmured, “Still here?”

Not daring to look over his shoulder, Lyrai swallowed. “Yes.”

“Have you nowhere better to be?”

At the hint of amusement, Lyrai turned. A hiss of pain escaped as the blood flowed back into his legs and he flinched when the miryhl lowered his beak to rub them.

“I was waiting for you,” Lyrai said, when he felt able to speak. “I wasn’t sure you’d return.”

The miryhl straightened and tilted his head. “In some things we have no choice.”

Unsure how to take that, Lyrai attempted to stand instead. He had to do it in stages on his reawakened legs but, with a little help from the eagle, he finally stood on his own.

Rumbling with concern, the miryhl nuzzled him. “You must not wait again. I don’t like it.”

Smiling, Lyrai carefully stroked the feathers on the eagle’s head, relaxing when they rose and the bird purred his enjoyment. “I hope I’ll never need to.”

“Good.”

They fell silent as Lyrai tickled the miryhl’s head, uncertain how to proceed. This was new for him and he was at a loss over what to do.

“Must I sleep there?” the miryhl asked, nodding at the rickety structure built for the Choice.

He chuckled. “No.”

“Good.” The eagle sighed with relief and preened Lyrai’s hair. “It does not look safe.”

“It’s well enough,” Lyrai promised, enjoying the attention. “For a few days.”

The miryhl huffed, unconvinced, and bowed his head. “I am Hurricane.”

“Lyrai. Lieutenant Lyrai Henstrati Henrykran.”

And that was all they needed. Without another word, Lyrai showed his new miryhl to the Rider eyries and wondered whatever happened to ceremony and ritual, and whether they truly meant anything after all. It certainly felt better this way.

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 11, Part 3

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch11.3

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Argh, exams!

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

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

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

“Thinking of the future,” Lyrai replied cheerfully.

“I hate this time of year.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mhysra grinned. “Got ya.”

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

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

“Easy,” Derrain assured him.

“Could have done it blindfolded,” Corin boasted.

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

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

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

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

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

Their merriment vanished.

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 11, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch11.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But he might have.”

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

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

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

“Just be careful, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cumulo arched his neck and nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have brothers, sir?”

“No.”

“Sisters?”

“Oh, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

Corin’s lips quirked up. “Lucky.”

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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Thanks for reading!

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 11, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch11.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Never trust a woman in a small office at the back of the house. Clearly she is up to no good…

Eleven

25th Sun

“Mhysra?”

Exiting the servant’s stairway, Mhysra froze, cursing herself for forgetting that her mother’s office was at this end of the house. Until now it hadn’t mattered. Besides, it was still early on the morning after the ball – most people would still be abed. Or most normal people, anyway.

“We must talk.”

Knowing she had no other choice, Mhysra walked into her mother’s gloomy study. Never a big room, it was made smaller by stacks of papers on the shelves, desk, chairs and floor. Despite its haphazard appearance it was all meticulously ordered. Lady Kilpapan would tolerate nothing less.

“Sit down.” Her mother indicated the chair in front of the desk. As Mhysra shifted stack of papers, the countess eyed her critically. “You intend to visit the eyries?”

Perching carefully on the cleared seat, Mhysra raised her chin. “I see Cumulo every day,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “And fly whenever I can.”

Lady Kilpapan narrowed her eyes at Mhysra’s flying breeches. “Do you always visit the eyries dressed like that?”

Mhysra licked her lips, thinking fast. “The eyries are dusty in the summer. It would be a shame to get my riding dress dirty when no one sees me.” Inspiration struck and she plucked at her worn shirt. “No one minds if these old things of Kilai’s get messy.”

Lady Kilpapan studied her daughter’s outfit. “When you say that no one sees you dressed so scandalously, that’s not quite true, is it?”

Mhysra’s heart thumped, but she tried not to let her unease show. She was so close, surely she wouldn’t be discovered now. There was only a month of the selection school left.

“The eyries are always full of Riders, and even if they aren’t everyone assumes that they will be. You endanger your reputation every time you step outside dressed so. Endanger the reputation of the entire family. Have you no care for your sister?”

Relief collided with anger as Mhysra’s heart pounded. So they were back to this. “I have yet to be recognised, mother. I do not believe the risk is so very great.”

“Since you were raised in Wrentheria, I shall let your naivety pass. From now on you will wear a riding costume whenever you go to the eyries, or you shall not go at all. Is that clear?”

Mhysra stared at the wall over her mother’s shoulder, not daring to open her mouth lest she succumb to the urge to make some things of her own clear.

“Mhysra?” her mother repeated, voice hard. “Your aunt raised you to be wilful and your father has done nothing to curb you, but I will not stand for it. I asked you a question and I expect to be answered. You will wear a riding costume when you visit the eyries, is that clear?”

Gritting her teeth, she muttered, “Yes, my lady.”

“Good.” Lady Kilpapan nodded stiffly. Mhysra shifted on her uncomfortable chair, awaiting the dismissal she prayed would come – before her rein on her temper broke.

Picking up a quill, Lady Kilpapan straightened the ruffled edges. “We must seem strict after Wrentheria, especially when you have set your heart on something. If you had been raised in the city you would have accepted our answer, if you dared ask at all. This is not entirely your fault. You are not yet used to our ways. However, as your parents it is our right to make decisions about your future without explanation. But perhaps we should have made the effort.”

Mhysra watched her mother’s neat hands – always controlled, always still – fidget about her desk, straightening papers, aligning ledgers, shifting quills and ink pots. Her mother was nervous. It was not a comforting realisation.

“To you, a child raised to be independent and wilful, a life in the Rift Riders must seem a natural choice for a girl who has spent so much time amongst miryhls. Why shouldn’t you join? Your brother did and he’s the heir.” When Mhysra stared at her, surprised, Lady Kilpapan smiled. “I understand your thoughts, Mhysra, but you do not understand mine.

“As I’m sure you will recall, your father was not keen for Kilai to follow this path. He wanted his heir to learn the workings of the earldom and the family business. Kilai was to unite our assets into one, re-forging the name of Kilpapan. But patriotic duty is important and Kilai’s noble intentions could not be denied. True, there is no other son to follow him, but we have two daughters, and the families of Kilpapan and Wrentherin have no shortage of intelligence.

“Your sister, whether you are aware of it or not, has spent the last three years learning about the earldom from your father. This is why she has yet to marry. In time she will make the match she deserves, but she will still be a Kilpapan and the earldom will always have her to rely on. She knows her duty.

“And you, my youngest, have your own duties to attend to.” When Mhysra opened her mouth to state that her duty was to Cumulo, her mother held up a hand. “You are a Kilpapan, Mhysra, and your duty is to the family. Many daughters marry to fulfil that duty, as will you, but you will also learn about the business. When I retire, you will succeed me.”

Mhysra blinked. “You wish me to go into trade? To deal with men daily? To spend months on skyships in the middle of nowhere? And this would be different to a life in the Riders how?”

The quill in her mother’s hand snapped. “Let me be blunt, daughter, your life is with your family. If you wish to keep Cumulo, you will accept this. If you persist in this foolishness, I will send him back to Wrentheria. Or,” she added when Mhysra opened her mouth, “to Aquila. You say they are short of miryhls. They will not turn him away.”

Mhysra’s nails dug into her palms as she fought the urge to correct her mother. To do so would reveal her secrets. After this conversation, she realised she didn’t dare. True, she didn’t believe anyone would ever succeed in taking Cumulo away, but she couldn’t risk them trying. He might get hurt and she would never forgive herself.

Eyeing her daughter’s tight expression, Lady Kilpapan nodded in satisfaction. “Life aboard a skyship differs greatly from the Rift Riders. Yes, some families view a life in trade as demeaning, but their fortunes are fading. Their power wanes and they will soon sink beneath the clouds like the setting sun. Those of intelligence know trade is the only way forward, so your reputation will not suffer. Skyships, unlike the Rift Riders, have always had a place for women. True, that has only recently expanded from the galley to the crew, but there are female captains now. There is no shame for a woman in a fleet. Especially not in mine.

“My ships have very strict rules,” she continued firmly. “There are no romances. Life is too close upon a skyship to allow for such complications. Our fleet is not alone in maintaining this standard, so it is deemed eminently respectable for a young woman.

“Life in the Rift Riders is not. How can it be when women have only just been readmitted? Who knows what measures will be put in place to watch over them? As for Aquila, to keep so many young men and women in close quarters away from the guiding and restraining influence of society is asking for trouble. It does not matter how chaste or well behaved they are, rumours will fly faster than any miryhl. So many young persons from all tiers of life are bound to have an adverse affect on the morals of the entire group.” The countess sniffed, as if the prospect of so many different people mixing together was unpleasant to her. “What might be acceptable for dock workers or the middle classes will never be acceptable for you.

“You are a Wrentherin and a Kilpapan,” she reiterated, as if Mhysra could ever forget. “Your lineage is noble and your bloodline impeccable – your reputation must remain pure. It will not be wasted on the eyries. Your father and I will not allow you to throw everything away so foolishly. Your place is in Nimbys, learning about the fleet until you marry or I begin your apprenticeship. That is the duty you bleat so earnestly about. This is the life you were born to. The sooner you accept that, the happier we all will be.”

Mhysra stared at the countess, barely able to take in what she had just been told. This was the life they had planned for her, these people who abandoned her to be raised at Wrentheria. Part of her was pleased that they had such faith in her, but she also knew this wasn’t a choice. She could be as dumb as dirt and they would still force her into this. Because Kilai wasn’t here. Her brother had been granted his freedom, so his sisters had to pay the price.

No.

However, she was not so foolish as to say that, no matter how much the word scrabbled inside her, trying to force its way out. Instead she rose from her chair and curtsied. “You do me too much honour, my lady.”

Lady Kilpapan smiled. “You are learning, child. In time you will be fit to take my place.”

Mhysra felt sick. “May I be excused?”

“Of course.” Lady Kilpapan nodded graciously. “You will wish to change before your morning lessons with your sister.”

Taking deep breaths, Mhysra walked from the room, when every instinct screamed to run to Cumulo, to let him soothe her and remind her of all that was good in the world. Mindful of her mother’s threats, however, she returned to her room and picked out her most expensive – and despised – riding dress, pulling it on over her uniform. Only then did she leave.

Derrain’s eyebrows rose when he saw her. “Did the Midsummer ball turn you into a girl?”

Conscious that her mother’s office overlooked the mews, Mhysra forced a smile. “How droll you are, Derrain. Will you accompany me to the eyries?”

Staring at her as though she’d grown a second head, he looked back at the house. Spotting the countess watching from the window, he sucked in a breath and hurriedly offered his arm. “If you’ll do me the honour, my lady.”

Tucking her arm through his, she ducked her head and dragged him away from the house. “Quickly, Derry, if you don’t mind. I can’t bear it here another moment.”

As soon as they were out of her mother’s sight, Derry wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “Does she know?”

“Not yet,” she whispered, leaning against his chest, grateful for his strength.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not yet,” she repeated, anger stirring at the memory. “I couldn’t without screaming.”

He tightened his grip. “Let’s go see Cumulo. And be thankful she leaves tomorrow.”

Wiping her sleeve across her eyes, she took his arm again and matched his swift pace. “I thank Maegla for that,” she whispered. “Every single day.”

~ Next Chapter ~

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