Tag: Stirla

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 24, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch24.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

So we come to it at last…

IT WAS THE last day of the year and the first fine day for a three-quarter moon. The residents of Aquila – town, citadel and barracks – filled the Lawn and practice fields on both sides of the river. The Riders and students wore their dress uniforms and the townsfolk were in light blue. Each man and woman bore either an armband or a headscarf, woven in black and gold.

Nineteen white paper boats waited on the bank, resting on a blanket so as not to get wet before their time. Each one was covered with ink – messages from friends, families and loved ones – ready to carry the words to Typhaestus’ realm. Beside them rested eight swans, folded from black paper.

Aquila had come to honour their dead.

Deep in the mountain caves, twenty new tombs had been filled; twelve Riders, one miryhl and seven bonded pairs. It was not only the kaz-naghkt who had paid a high price for the attack on Aquila. The burial ceremonies had taken place three days after the battle, but few could crowd under the mountain to pay their respects. So now they remembered them.

Dean Marshall stood on the bank with the priest of Maegla and together they blessed the boats and swans. “There is no higher service to Aquila, the Overworld, Maegla and the Gods than that given by those we remember today,” the dean said, touching Stirla on the shoulder. “Think well of them.”

The burly lieutenant knelt upon the blanket and lifted a black swan. “Go in peace, Miryhl Spiral. May the gods grant you fast winds.” Lowering his hands into the rushing river, he released the swan and picked up a little boat. “Rider Cieryn, bonded of Spiral, may the Gods reunite you in peace. Bright skies, my friend.”

The paper shapes bobbed gently in the water, resting against the screen held by the priest. Steadily Stirla added more swans and boats, murmuring tributes to each of the lost miryhls and men of his flurry. When he stepped back, four boats and two swans jostled in the river, waiting to be released.

Next came Lieutenant Willym, who had lost three pairs and three men. Then Lieutenant Hlen bid farewell to one pair, one miryhl and four men. By now the floating papers were in danger of sinking, but this was not a task that could be rushed.

Lastly came Lyrai, freshly released from the infirmary, pale and still a little weak. He limped on his bad leg and knelt with the help of Stirla. Once he was stable, he waved his friend back and lowered three more boats into the river, speaking each name with a tribute.

Finally, he picked up the last swan and boat. “Miryhl Harrier and Rider Dhenras, be reunited in peace. May the Gods grant you bright sun and clear skies, with the wind at your backs and the clouds beneath you. Aquila is proud.”

Leaning forward, he lowered both hands into the water and sent the papers spinning with a puff of breath. The current jostled them on its rippling swell to join the others against the screen.

“Aquila is proud,” Dean Marshall echoed, and everyone bowed their heads for the final prayer. “Though they are gone, be they never forgotten. For Aquila you died, and at Aquila your memory will live on. We are proud, we are humbled and we thank you. Be at peace, children of Maegla.”

“Be at peace,” the gathering murmured, and beneath the warm sun on the last day of the year, the screen was pulled up to release the boats and swans.

The symbolic flotilla bumped along together, black swans bobbing, paper boats spinning. Beneath the bridge all went dark, then the water roared over the falls and they disappeared from sight.

Gone, but never forgotten.

* * * * *
The End
* * * * *

And there, I am afraid, we leave everyone for the time being. So, please, raise a glass of your favourite beverage, as I say “Thank you” for coming along for the ride. It’s been fun sharing this story with people again, so I hope you’ve enjoyed it.

In a month or so I will be releasing it as an ebook from various retailers – more to come when it happens – and after that I’ll be diving into book 2 (Rift Riders).

For now, I bid you all a very fond farewell, but look forward to seeing you again on August 26th, when Mhysra and co will be back in an action-packed sequel.

Until then, thank you so much for reading.

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 21, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch21.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Four more chapters to go!

And yet another three parter this week – but I think it’s the last one. Poor Mouse.

Four more weeks to go!

Twenty One

31st Gale

It was sleeting. Again. “The joys of Aquila,” Stirla grumbled, tipping his hat further over his face. “How can you bear this every day?”

Blinking water from his eyelashes, Lyrai chuckled; supervising an afternoon flight was the least of his worries. “I like flying.”

“So do I.” Stirla shuddered as ice trickled down his neck. “When it’s sunny.”

Lyrai shook his head. After spending so much time grounded, he’d tackle a blizzard if it was his only chance to fly. “Come on.” He slapped Stirla’s shoulder. “Time to get your feet wet.”

“They’re already wet,” Stirla muttered, trudging over to Atyrn.

“Stop complaining. Once the blizzards truly start you’ll be spending plenty of time inside.” Lyrai secured his hat and shuddered. He was not looking forward to the next few months.

His friend grunted and hauled himself into Atyrn’s saddle, Lyrai mounted Hurricane and they launched into the miryhl-filled skies. It was Sunday, which meant all the first-years flew together, regardless of their flurries, and all Lyrai had to do was watch. Thankfully he was assisted by three lieutenants and four sergeants. It wasn’t unheard of for the captains to join these practise flights, but Lyrai didn’t blame them for keeping out of the sleet.

Circling above the students was like staring into the eye of a storm as the miryhls lapped the field. The more confident flyers rose to the top or darted through the middle, while the nervous stayed close to the ground. The four young lieutenants watched from above, while the sergeants kept order amongst the flock. After a while the sleet lessened, easing visibility, so that the pairs resolved into individuals.

Shaking the water from his eyes, Lyrai shivered and studied his students. Dhori and Latinym were rising from bottom to top and down again, while Mhysra and Cumulo swirled in and out of the main flow behind them. This exercise was too tame for them, but everyone had to practise together. Derrain and Zephyr, Corin and Wisp, Haelle and Thunder, and Mouse and Onyx bobbed behind Cumulo and Latinym like bows on a kite tail, making Lyrai smile.

An ill-advised attempt to race between some cocky students drew his attention and he was on the verge of intervening when Hurricane tensed.

“Mouse,” was all the warning he got before his miryhl dived.

Gripping handfuls of feathers, Lyrai squinted through the rain and swore. Mouse indeed. Eager to copy his friends, the foolish boy had urged his miryhl too high, too fast and collided with another student: Bovei fra Benlei. A favourite of Willym’s, Bovei did not make allowances for accidents.

Even as Hurricane arrowed down, Bovei raised his flying crop – and how he had one of those when they were banned, Lyrai could only guess – and lashed out. As Bovei was a mean-tempered bully, Lyrai expected him to aim for Mouse. Instead he slashed at Onyx’s face.

“No!” Lyrai and Hurricane roared together, and Lyrai urged his miryhl even faster, diving straight through the flock of novice pairs. Miryhls scattered and students yelped, but Hurricane ignored them. Since no one fell off, Lyrai did likewise.

Onyx squealed and dodged the whip heading for his eye, taking the brunt of the strike on his wing. Already unbalanced from the collision, Mouse slipped, hands grasping at the wet saddle but finding no purchase. The leather straps, which should have been holding him in place, were unbuckled: he’d been copying his friends again. Onyx shifted to catch him, but Bovei cracked the whip across the miryhl’s neck. Bruised and wounded, Onyx flinched.

“Mhysra!” Mouse plummeted through the cloud of miryhls.

Cumulo dived after him. With more strength than finesse, the Wingborn seized the boy’s leg and flapped frantically to slow their reckless descent.

With Mouse safe, Hurricane didn’t bother to check his own speed. Balling his talons, he punched straight into Bovei. The whip went flying. Lyrai barely had time to shift his weight as his miryhl wheeled about and dropped onto the smaller eagle’s back.

Being bigger, heavier and angrier, Hurricane easily drove Shield down. Lyrai didn’t object, even with a student trapped between – Bovei deserved it for striking a miryhl – and watched with relief as Cumulo carefully lowered his burden before landing.

Mhysra reached Mouse first, turning him over to check his leg, exclaiming at the blood. Stirla carried the boy from the field at a sprint, leaving Hlen to take care of poor Onyx.

“Return to the eyries and tend to your mounts!” Captain Myran ordered, emerging from the sleet with Fredkhen and a squad of Riders. Left with no other choice, the students dispersed.

At last, Hurricane brought Shield down and lifted off him. Before the miryhl could launch again, Hurricane rose to his full height and hissed. Though cocky around the eagles in Bovei’s class, Shield knew when he was outmatched and hunkered down, emitting supplicating peeps.

Not so his Rider. Mussed and gasping, Bovei pushed himself upright and glared at Lyrai. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded shakily. “Don’t you know who I am?”

Before Lyrai could answer or dismount, Willym landed. “How dare you treat a student of mine this way!”

“I could say the same of your student with regards to mine!” Lyrai snapped, while Hurricane faced down Mercata, Willym’s miryhl. They were of a size, but Mercata was a slender, light-eyed female. Like her Rider she had a nasty reputation. “How dare he raise a whip to a miryhl. How dare he fly with a crop at all!”

Willym sneered from his mount’s back. “I saw no such incident. All I saw was a lieutenant attacking a student.”

“There are witnesses,” Lyrai growled, even as Hurricane did the same at Mercata.

The female miryhl hissed and her Rider smirked. “Yes. An entire year saw you attack a student, Lyrai. How distressing.”

“They also saw your student strike mine with a whip,” Lyrai retorted, barely controlling his temper. “You know crops are banned, but I can guess where he got such a thing.”

Willym looked at his student and smiled. “I see no whip.”

Lyrai saw red. “I will find it, you vicious bastard, and when I do, your precious whelp will -”

“I believe this is the item in question,” Captain Myran interrupted, limping between their miryhls with the crop held high. “It may also interest you to know that I saw everything.”

Willym stared at the whip and registered the contempt on Myran’s face. He glanced at Fredkhen, lingering unhappily to one side. Though Fredkhen’s family’s livelihood relied heavily on the favour of Willym’s father, the captain would not lie. Baring his teeth in frustration, Willym turned to the boy.

Bovei sat slumped sulkily in his saddle, picking at the reins. He glanced at his lieutenant and flinched. “My father -” he bleated.

“I believe Kern Whittendowns will be most disappointed about this,” Myran said, and the boy cowered. “You will come with me, Student Bovei. Lieutenants return to the eyries. Lyrai, attend Dean Marshall’s office when you are done.”

When nobody moved, the captain raised his eyebrows. “You are dismissed, Riders. Bovei, with me.” He limped away, leaving Lyrai and Willym glaring at each other.

Fredkhen cleared his throat. “Come, Willym. We must tend the miryhls.”

As Mercata turned her head away, Hurricane snorted and launched with no signal from Lyrai. Neither of them wanted to spend a moment longer in that company.

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 18, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch18.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 18, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch18.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Welcome to Aquila! :D

Eighteen

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any word from North Point?” Fredkhen asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A time of changes,” Dean Marshall said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 17, Part 2

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch17.2

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Aquila, at last!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said you wanted more adventure, Cue.”

“Must have been moulting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

“Pleased to be home?” Stirla murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 14, Part 1

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch14.1

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

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

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

Fourteen

 31st Fledgling

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cumulo puffed proudly, sticking out his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re always nice,” Mhysra said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always room for one more,” Corin protested.

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

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

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

Mhysra raised her eyebrows. “And you?”

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

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

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

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

“I am not a dog,” Mherrin protested.

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

Lyrai groaned. “Kill me now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a good miryhl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here comes Corin. This should be good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love flying!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stirla wrinkled his nose. “Maybe.”

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

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

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

~Next Chapter ~

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

Books, Free Fiction, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 12, Part 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 ~

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

Books, Overworld, Serial, Writing

Wingborn: Chapter 10, Part 3

Becca Lusher

WB_Ch10.3

(First time reading? Catch up Here!)

~ Previous Chapter ~

Shall we dance?

AS LYRAI MOVED around the ballroom, meeting acquaintances and dutifully writing his name on the dance cards he should, he crept closer to the top table and his mother. Occasionally he glanced at the Riders enjoying themselves, or at the flock of young men surrounding the Kilpapan daughters. Lady Milluqua handled them deftly, while her sister stood awkwardly to one side. He felt sorry for her.

On the training field Mhysra was an intelligent pupil, quiet, but willing to put herself forward when required. With her miryhl she was an undisputed expert. Here she was clearly uncomfortable. Too tall, too thin and too awkward for this gilded sphere. Having once struggled to move between such different worlds himself, he’d gladly put his name down for two dances. Even though she didn’t like him, he thought she’d find him easier to dance with than a stranger.

As he watched, Stirla insinuated himself into the group by talking to Mhysra. “Wily old fox,” Lyrai chuckled, seeing the smile of gratitude Lady Milluqua sent his friend for paying attention to her sister. Stirla was full of tricks and Lyrai didn’t doubt he would use them all before this night was through. It was just curious that a wellborn lady was his objective. Stirla rarely played his games where the odds were so heavily stacked against him.

Still, what Stirla got up to was his own business, so Lyrai approached his mother. He kept an eye out for his father, but knew the old man preferred making late entrances.

“Lyrai.” His mother angled her cheek for a kiss. “How dashing you look. There isn’t a woman present who doesn’t long to dance with you.”

He smiled at her radiant appearance. “There is only one lady I wish to dance with.”

She arched an eyebrow and chuckled. “I am long past the age for dancing, dearest.”

Looking at her golden dress, glittering with diamonds in a style that wouldn’t look amiss on a newlywed wife, Lyrai shook his head and tugged her to her feet. “Nonsense. You’re the prettiest girl here. No one would imagine you the mother of five nearly grown children. Come, dance with me, and we shall wow the city with our splendour.”

“You ask so sweetly, how could I refuse?” Resting her hand on his arm, she allowed him to sweep her onto the floor. As he swung her around she laughed like a child and he smiled to see her so happy. It reminded him of long ago days when she would visit the schoolroom to dance with him, much to the dismay of her servants and his tutors. In time his father had put a stop to it, but Lyrai still treasured the memories.

“I’ve missed dancing with you, my Lyrai,” she murmured as they stepped together, turned and joined hands with two other couples to make a circle.

When they came together again, he saw tears in her eyes and squeezed her hands. “I will always dance with you, mama.”

She smiled and when the dance was over asked to be taken back to her table, where she remained for the rest of the evening, isolated in her golden splendour. She danced with no one else and after Lyrai’s father finally arrived the gentlemen stopped asking.

* * * * *

WINCING AFTER A particularly clumsy romp with a young lord whose name she’d already forgotten, Mhysra limped back to her table. Her father was busy with an acquaintance, her mother similarly engaged across the room, while Milluqua was dancing with Lieutenant Lyrai.

Dreaming of the moment when she could take her shoes off, Mhysra watered down her wine and took a sip, thinking she ought to eat something. She wasn’t hungry, but the night was barely half done, so getting drunk probably wasn’t a good idea. Except she would have to get up if she wanted to visit the food table. Her feet throbbed. She couldn’t bear to put weight on them yet.

“Evening, my lady. May I join you?”

She looked up and smiled at Stirla. “Please do, sir. My sister won’t mind.”

“She’s a popular partner,” he said, sitting down. “I don’t think she’s sat out a single set.”

“She likes to dance.”

He smiled at the understatement and poured a glass of wine, eyes widening as he tasted it. “You have better stuff on this side of the room.”

Mhysra laughed, no longer feeling the need to perform for the strangers looking down their noses at the gangly country girl. Lieutenant Stirla knew her and she liked him. “I’d say you’re enjoying yourselves more.”

They looked at the far tables where a raucous toast was going on. “Savages.” He grinned.

She wished she could sit with them. There was no pretence with the Riders. They’d been granted an evening off and were taking full advantage of it. She wished she could do the same.

“I suppose your sister will get married soon,” Stirla said, staring at Milluqua as she skipped around Lieutenant Lyrai. They made a striking couple; her darkness complimenting his light. “Probably to some high lord or prince.”

“My parents are very ambitious,” Mhysra agreed, wondering for the first time how much say her sister would have over her own future.

Stirla’s smile was self-deprecating. “My parents are wool farmers.”

She smiled back, feeling sorry for him. “You’ll make a fine captain, sir.”

He nodded towards the floor. “I believe this is our dance.” When she cast a disgusted glance towards her slippers, he chuckled. “Or we could sit it out and have something to eat instead.”

“A damn fine captain,” she said, and he rolled his eyes as he left to fetch food for them both.

* * * * *

AS DANCES WENT, Lyrai mused while waltzing with Lady Mhysra, it wasn’t the worst he’d experienced. Some conversation might have been nice, but it was difficult to talk to one’s partner when she was watching her feet so intently. Not that he minded the quiet; he was fond of this piece of music and the orchestra played to perfection.

Despite her nerves, Lady Mhysra danced surprisingly well. Considering her age and height, she was graceful. Nothing like the beauty of movement that set her sister apart from everyone else, but for a young lady not fully grown, she did well. Years of flight gave her excellent balance and her natural rhythm made her a good partner. He was almost enjoying himself.

Until the music stopped, she stepped on his foot and someone tapped a glass.

“Sorry,” she whispered, as he helped her regain her balance.

Lyrai looked around the quiet room, saw his father standing at the top table and froze. “It’s all right,” he said, wishing he was back at the Rider tables. He felt exposed out here on the dance floor. Vulnerable.

“What’s happening?” Lady Milluqua appeared beside her sister, Stirla at her shoulder.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly at Lyrai. “Do you know anything about this?”

Lyrai shook his head. “My father doesn’t confide in me.”

“Your father?” Lady Mhysra looked up, eyes wide. “But that’s the Stratys.”

“Yes.”

“He’s your father?” she squeaked.

He nodded, too worried and distracted to explain now, and waited with the rest of the room for the man to speak.

“My lords, ladies and distinguished guests,” Stratys Henryk III spoke into the expectant hush. “I welcome you to the Feast of Our Father of Glory, Divine Heirayk, God of the Sun. The Midsummer Ball goes back far beyond our forefathers to the days before the clouds came and our world was changed forever. A time of celebration, of veneration, to honour and thank the greatest of gods. It is an event where matches are made, promises given and futures entwined forever. A night when fresh hope is born.” He paused to raise his glass, waiting for the silence to gain an impatient edge as all wondered where his speech was going.

“Friends, I ask you to join me in celebration. Tonight, my oldest son, your beloved prince and heir to the Stratys throne, wishes me to announce his betrothal.”

A flurry of excited whispers broke out and Lyrai glanced at his brother, who looked thunderstruck, a red flush creeping up his neck. Beside him, he felt Lady Mhysra turn away and Stirla step closer.

Lady Milluqua swayed, whispering beneath her breath, “Please, no. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. He promised. Divine Lithaen aid me. He promised, Mhysra, he promised me.”

“We could not be more pleased with his choice of bride,” the Stratys continued, oblivious to the fact that his oldest son was arguing with his friends, shaking off the more persistent as he tried to leave. “Join with me, dear friends, in wishing them every future happiness.

“To Prince Henryn and Princess Demolie of Havia.”

The crowd dutifully echoed the toast, while the ballroom doors slammed shut behind Henryn.

“Oh, father,” Lyrai murmured, as the crowd began to whisper. “What have you done?”

“My apologies to your brother,” Lady Milluqua said shakily. “But I am mightily relieved.”

Lyrai stared at her, truly taking in her glowing prettiness for the first time and smiled. “As am I, my lady.” Stirla scowled at him over Milluqua’s head. Eager to annoy his friend, he bowed over her hand until he noticed that his parents were watching. He dropped it hastily.

Lady Milluqua stepped back and smoothed her skirts before turning to Stirla with a bright smile. “I believe this is our dance, lieutenant.”

“Of course, my lady.” As the music restarted, Stirla swiftly whirled his partner away.

Which left Lyrai with Mhysra, who watched him with raised eyebrows. “What are your feelings on marriage, Your Highness?”

He grimaced, having eschewed his title all his life. “Lyrai, please, or lieutenant if you must, or even sir. But I beg you, not Highness.”

Eyebrows still raised, she nodded. “I see.” He led her through a series of tight twirls. “About marriage, sir, what are your thoughts?”

“Why?” It was Lyrai’s turn to raise his eyebrows, unable to resist teasing. “Are you asking?”

He was rewarded with a horrified squeak and she stared at his shoulder again. “I thought it only fair to warn you, that’s all.”

“About what, marriage? Rest assured, my lady, I am already wary.”

Overcoming her embarrassment with visible effort, she glanced at his eyes, then quickly away. “Perhaps not wary enough. It wasn’t just your parents who watched you smile at my sister a moment ago.”

Lyrai spat a curse that would have made any proper miss swoon. Thankfully he was dancing with a Rider-in-training and she laughed, albeit softly.

“As ambitious as my parents are, at least marriage by proxy was outlawed last century,” she said. When he glared at her, she grinned. “When do you leave for Aquila?”

Not soon enough, he thought, whirling her one last time as the music slowed. “The same time you do,” he reminded her. “The end of next month.”

“You might want to go into hiding until then,” she advised. “My parents are tenacious.”

As were his. Making a great show of returning her to her table, he kissed her hand and smiled wryly. “A suitable endeavour for any Rider lieutenant.” Spotting Stirla and Milluqua approaching, he made a hasty retreat.

Now that the Stratys had arrived, the evening was stiffening up. The pitchers on the Rider tables appeared to contain more water than wine and the food was cold. As such Stirla, Fleik, Imaino and a host of others were only too happy to accompany Lyrai as he made his escape.

If several expensive bottles intended for the top table disappeared at the same time, well, it was sheer coincidence.

~ Next Chapter ~

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