Wingborn

by Becca Lusher

  Six

  Flight

  10th Blizzard

  “IT’S PURE SPITE,” Mhysra grumbled as she vigorously combed tangles out of the horsat’s mane, while her puppy growled from the doorway. “See, Bumble agrees. She’s heard them too.”

  Mherrin snorted and pushed Ripple’s wing out of the way so that he could brush her side. The horsat stood patiently, tracking both humans’ movements with her swivelling ears.

  “Didn’t it take Kilai years to get permission?” Derrain asked, from where he was lounging in the doorway.

  “Two very long years,” Milluqua agreed from her seat on an upturned bucket, as she checked the braiding on Ripple’s reins. A lady she might be, but she’d also been raised in practical Wrentheria.

  “You didn’t have to live with his sulking,” Mherrin groaned. “How we suffered!”

  Milluqua sniffed. “You didn’t have to put up with the earl’s disapproval.”

  “At least it isn’t aimed at you,” Mhysra grumbled, attacking Ripple’s tail. “It will never be aimed at you.”

  “Bitterness does not become you, dearest,” Derrain cooed, ducking the brush she threw at his head. The puppy barked and strained her lead to reach it. “Here you go, bumbling pup.” Derrain gave her the brush and she settled down with it between her paws, tail wagging, teeth chomping.

  “You can’t give her that!” Mhysra snatched it away. “She’ll break it.”

  “You shouldn’t have thrown it then. Bumble might get hurt.”

  While they bickered, Milluqua handed the bridle to her cousin. “Tell Mhylo to take better care of his tack – this braiding is badly frayed. Ripple’s a good mare, but it’s not something you want unravelling mid-flight.”

  “Thanks, Milli. I’ll let him know, not that he’ll be grateful. Lazy git.” Kissing her cheek, Mherrin began tacking up. When Mhysra put Ripple’s saddle on, he caught her eye over the horsat’s back. “You are going to hand that letter in, aren’t you?”

  “Depends,” she mumbled. Her cousin raised his eyebrows and she focused on the buckles. Since he was the one who’d forged her father’s signature, he should have been the one advising caution. After all, he would have the most to lose if they were caught. Then again, Mherrin had never had much sense. Whereas she probably had too much misdirected honour. “I just wish they’d say yes. It doesn’t feel right starting out this way.”

  Her cousin gave a cheerful shrug. “More fool them. And more fool you.” He tweaked her nose. “I can’t see why you’d want to work with those toffs, but since you do and it’s what Cumulo needs, good luck to you, cuz.”

  “And you.” Ducking under Ripple’s neck, she threw her arms around Mherrin. He was her favourite cousin and she’d miss him. The past four days had been horrible and full of arguments, but Mherrin had made it bearable. He could always cheer her up.

  “Don’t get dismal now,” he murmured, and she smiled.

  “Watch your back.” She slapped him between his shoulder blades. “A lone flyer is always vulnerable, especially on a horsat.”

  He rolled his eyes as he pulled away. “I’ve flown even more than you, Wingborn. I think I can take care of myself.”

  “Make sure you do,” Milluqua said sternly, coming over to neaten his collar. “I’d be displeased if anything happened to you.”

  Mherrin glanced despairingly at Derrain. “Girls!”

  Derrain smirked but wisely said nothing, as he untied Bumble and moved aside so that Ripple could leave her stall unmolested. “Fast winds and clear skies.”

  “Try not to die of boredom at the selection school.” Once outside, Mherrin hopped into the saddle and tucked his knees beneath Ripple’s wings. The horsat shivered all over and pranced with readiness. “Until next time!” At Mherrin’s signal, Ripple lifted her head and galloped for the takeoff ramp, wings unfurling. One beat, two, she hit top speed and leapt.

  For a moment they hung weightless over the sheer drop to the Cloud Sea, hundreds of feet below, then the wind caught beneath Ripple and she soared. Spiralling on the updraft, leathery wings spread wide, she circled and rose with each lazy flap. With a final wave, Mherrin gathered his reins and Ripple powered forward, legs galloping on the air, and away they went.

  Mhysra sighed, wishing she could go too. She missed her miryhl chicks, the lively manor, the calm lake and Cumulo’s ridiculous attempts to dominate the bullwing herd. But that was her old life, over a thousand miles away. A life where women were excluded from the Riders and the occasional miryhl could be spared. Things were different now. If only her parents would agree.

  “Here we go,” Milluqua muttered, and Mhysra realised she’d clenched her jaw.

  “If you’re off to pick another fight, I’ll bid you good day,” Derrain said, slapping Bumble’s lead into her hand. “Lieutenant Stirla offered to show me the eyries.”

  Unable to face another argument, Mhysra smiled wearily. “I’ll come too, if you don’t mind.”

  Milluqua sighed with relief and snatched Bumble’s lead. “Excellent idea. I’ll take this one. Make sure you’re back in time for dinner.” Not waiting in case Mhysra changed her mind, the older Kilpapan sister hurried off as if a pyrefly pack was nipping at her heels.

  Chuckling, Derrain hooked his arm through hers. “Seems you’re stuck with me then.”

  “Seems I am.” Mhysra wrinkled her nose. “However will I cope?”

  “BEAUTIFUL, SO BEAUTIFUL. Who knew letting women back into the Riders would reap such exquisite rewards?”

  Eyebrows raised, Lyrai led the visitors through the eyries towards the cooing voice. The place was mostly deserted at this time of day, with one flurry on duty and the other preferring to escape the cold. Everyone, that is, except for Stirla. Since Lyrai could see Stirla’s miryhl, Atyrn, hunched miserably near the doors, it was safe to assume the lieutenant was busy elsewhere.

  “Absolutely glorious. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to spend your life with me? I’d treat you as wonderfully as you deserve. I could –”

  Lyrai led the two youngsters within sight of the love-struck lieutenant and coughed. Since one of the visitors happened to be bonded to the miryhl Stirla was sweet-talking, Lyrai grinned as his friend spun around. Despite all the scrapes they’d been caught in over the years, Lyrai had never seen Stirla look guilty before. This was very interesting.

  “Er…”

  “Afternoon, Stirla. Hope we’re not interrupting.”

  Mhysra folded her arms and glared, while Derrain lounged against an unused perch, grinning.

  Stirla inched away from the miryhl, making innocent gestures with his hands. “Um…”

  The miryhl lowered his head and chuckled, so Mhysra turned her scowl on him.

  “If you want rid of me, Cue, just say.”

  Cumulo raised his head and squawked. Feathers rose on his face and head, and he glowered at Stirla. The lieutenant ducked under a perch and backed away.

  “Don’t you blame him,” the girl snapped. “Look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you, Cumulo. And don’t try that innocent act on me.” The miryhl had been making supplicating purrs, but at this his feathers fluffed up with affront. “Nor that either. I’m wise to all your tricks. I know they’ve all approached you, but you’ve been encouraging them. Thirteen offers, Cue. Thirteen!”

  Stirla slunk over to Lyrai. “If I’d known I was part of a crowd, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

  Lyrai patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, just as the girl spun on her heel and jabbed a finger in Stirla’s direction. “And you should be ashamed of yourself – trying to cozen a miryhl away from their bonded. Especially when you have a perfectly good mount of your own.” She shoved her miryhl aside and approached Atyrn, stroking the neglected eagle with soothing hands. “Such a beauty too. Men are such idiots not to value a treasure when they have one.”

  “She has a point,” Lyrai murmured. Even bigger than Cumulo, Atyrn was the envy of many Riders. So dark she was almost black, she was stron
g and had the best endurance out of all the eagles in Captain Myran’s flight. She was also steadfast and willing to push through any weather. There were few better miryhls to be had than Atyrn. “Badly done, my friend.”

  Lady Mhysra snorted scornfully. “As if you weren’t the first to approach Cue,” she muttered. Stirla and Derrain laughed, but the girl ignored them. She was wary of him, Lyrai knew. Unlike Stirla, who was friendly and flirtatious with any and everyone, young women made Lyrai nervous. He never knew how to treat them. It was bad enough when he was obliged to spend time with his sisters, and they were family. Apparently, Mhysra felt the same way towards him. Under normal circumstances, Lyrai would be delighted to be avoided, but when she became a student… He’d have to work on his manners.

  “Come on, Mhysra, don’t be grouchy,” Derrain cajoled. “As if Cumulo would leave you. He’s put up – I mean you’ve put up with him for sixteen years.”

  She smiled reluctantly. “You’re not Mherrin.”

  “But I get points for trying, right?” the lad appealed to the lieutenants.

  She shoved his shoulder. “Give over, Derry. Didn’t you want something here?”

  As the boy turned to Stirla, asking to be shown around the eyries, Lyrai watched the girl murmur something to Atyrn, while the miryhl rubbed her affectionately on the shoulder with her head. Then, despite Cumulo’s jealous growls, Mhysra kissed the eagle’s beak. Only after she had checked that her friend was still busy with Stirla did she approach her bonded.

  Hooking his beak over her shoulder, Cumulo tugged her close and hustled her under his wing. When girl protested, her miryhl growled and turned his head so they could continue their argument in whispers.

  It was quite a sight and Lyrai leant against a perch to watch them. Cumulo often treated her like a naughty chick, while she treated him like an annoying little brother, but there was a thread of affection running through their partnership that he’d never seen before. Even in the oldest pairs the interactions were more of comrades and friends than family. Perhaps that was the real sign of a Wingborn.

  A prod on the arm drew him back to the present.

  Stirla grinned at him. “I’m going to show Derrain around. Want to come, or are you busy?”

  Since Lyrai was still grounded without a miryhl, they both knew he had no reason to be in the eyries. Especially when his flurry was out on patrol, meaning he couldn’t even spring a surprise inspection. The only thing worth looking at was the girl and her Wingborn.

  “I’ve got paperwork to do.”

  “Oh aye,” Stirla said with a exaggerated wink. “Paperwork, is it? Come along, young Derrain, let’s leave my esteemed colleague to his work.” Still chuckling, Stirla took the lad off, leaving the girl and her miryhl to argue. Lyrai glanced at them, then turned away. Regardless of what Stirla thought was going on, Lyrai missed having a miryhl. Seeing others with theirs made his feet itch and an empty ache fill his chest. Not that he’d been close to Froth.

  It had been a bad decision from the start. To an awestruck almost-sixteen-year-old desperate to impress his peers and parents, the pale gold female as swift as the wind had seemed like an excellent choice. Everyone said how well they looked together. Unfortunately, she was a little too vain, a bit too lazy and far too full of herself. That was how she’d ended up injured. Lyrai hadn’t even been flying her at the time. No, his foolish bonded had ruined herself completely on her own, while showing off to the rest of the flurry and clipping a wing on a cliff.

  Turning his back on the eyries, Lyrai headed for the offices. He really did have paperwork to do. Not that he’d intended to do it – Rift Rider officers rarely did – but it wasn’t as though he had anything else to do. He wanted to fly, wanted it so badly that if he hung around the eyries much longer, he might do something stupid. Like try to take Cumulo.

  The day of Choice and his chance to bond with a new miryhl was seven months away, but every day brought him closer to flight. If he could just keep going he would be airborne again eventually. He flexed his hands and shook his head, wishing that telling himself such things actually made a difference.

  “YOU CAN COME out now. He’s gone.”

  Mhysra blinked. “Who?”

  Her miryhl chuckled. “The handsome one, with pale hair and sharp eyes. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Noticed what? You’ve apparently noticed a lot more than I have.”

  “Liar.” Cumulo chortled. “You won’t even speak to him. Taken with him, are you?”

  Pushing away, she stared at the eagle incredulously. “Don’t be daft. The man despises me. He barely waited for my back to turn before trying to steal you. Taken with him? Ha!”

  Cumulo’s eyes glowed with amusement. “My mistake. But he is a fine looking human.”

  “He’s a miserable killjoy, with eyes that could cause cloud frost. I prefer Lieutenant Stirla.”

  “Well, I like Lieutenant Lyrai. Even his name sounds better. If I wasn’t bonded to you, I’d be tempted.”

  “Except you wouldn’t be here, because you’re too young. And by the time you were old enough he’d be bonded again, so wipe that smug look off your face. You’ve got me, you were born with me and you’re stuck with me. Be happy.”

  Lowering his beak against her chest, he hummed contritely. “I am happy, chickling. No one could be happier than me. Well, maybe I might be if…”

  Sighing, she shoved him away. “What now?”

  “My saddle. Come on, misery, let’s fly.”

  Mhysra’s grouchiness vanished. She no longer cared that every Rider within ten leagues wanted to steal her miryhl, nor that her miryhl was too vain to stop them from trying. She didn’t even care about Cumulo teasing her over the lieutenant anymore. He wanted to go flying. Having never turned down such an offer – rain, snow or sunshine – she ran to the tack room, snatched up his harness and put it on with practised efficiency.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, as he strutted out into the bitter day.

  “Anywhere, as long as it’s up,” Cumulo replied, stretching his wings. “Hop on, chickling, we haven’t long before it snows again.”

  When he lowered his wing, she stepped onto the joint and straddled the saddle, slipping her feet into the stirrups and her knees under his wings. She wasn’t really dressed for a long flight, but even without a cold-weather flying coat or flight helmet, she wanted to escape. Anything to get away from the ground and all the things trying to hold her back from this life she had been born to.

  “All set?” she asked, picking up the reins.

  “Hang on.” Cumulo flapped to make sure nothing interfered with his flight muscles, then spread and waggled his tail, just for show. He hopped two paces. “All’s well.”

  Bounding forward one stride, two, he opened his wings and jumped. The first flap barely lifted them off the ground, but the second carried them higher and, with a last push of his feet, they were airborne. He flapped laboriously, grunting with each downward pull as they covered the field and rapidly approached the cliff. Cumulo shrieked as he angled his wings and tail, holding them fully extended, and swept around in a steep curve that barely avoided the mountainside.

  Mhysra whooped as he flapped again, tilting them into a wide spiral to glide steadily upwards. He was big and strong but out of practise at ground-launching with a passenger.

  “You’re getting lazy, Cue.”

  He shrieked in outrage and banked heavily to the right, a risky manoeuvre for any rider less experienced than she. Mhysra laughed at his tactics and spread her arms, tipping her head back. Air swept over her, pulling her hair from its pins as Cumulo dived. The world rushed up to meet them, then the miryhl opened his great wings, skimmed the grass and launched skywards again, both of them whooping with joy.

  There was nothing greater than miryhl flight.

  Gliding with the currents and updrafts, Cumulo carried them up the mountain to where the Rift Riders patrolled. There they pitted their wits ag
ainst some of the more playful pairs, ducking and weaving and shrieking, until he eventually took her out over the Cloud Sea. It seemed to roll away forever, a fluffy whiteness that called to mind soft pillows and gentle sleep. Yet as Cumulo dived to skim the cloud tops, the air turned wild and the surface roiled with cold winds stronger than anything found on the mountain slopes. Despite the frigid air that nipped at their flesh, they relished the challenge of flying through the turbulence, eventually letting the winds blow them skywards once more.

  Out there they were alone, facing west where the sea stretched uninterrupted beyond the horizon, glowing even under a sullen sky. She could see forever and it was breathtaking.

  Leaning against her miryhl’s back, Mhysra hugged as much of him as she could reach and rested her cheek against the cool silk of his feathers. “Thank you,” she murmured, knowing that no matter what happened, what her parents said or how the selection school turned out, she would always have this. She would always have him.

  Cumulo’s muscles flexed and bunched beneath her as he beat his wings, carrying them further into forever. “You’re welcome, chickling.”

  SNOW WAS FALLING by the time she left the eyries, her heart as light as her footsteps. When she passed the offices, the clerk she’d met several days ago stepped out.

  “Classes begin tomorrow, Lady Mhysra,” he reminded her. “Have you a letter of recommendation yet?”

  She touched her coat pocket and thought of all the arguments, the closed door of her father’s study, the tightening of her mother’s lips whenever her youngest daughter came into view. Of Mherrin’s careful work and her aunt’s blessing.

  Making her decision, Mhysra pulled out the letter. “Is this is what you require, sir?”

  The clerk checked and split the seal, eyes moving swiftly over the neat secretary handwriting and the bold scrawl beneath. He scrutinised it again, before sighing with relief and handing her a uniform kit. “I believe it is. Congratulations, student. Be back here bright and early tomorrow.”

  She returned his bow with a half-curtsey and turned for home. If her steps were heavier than before, well, it was cold and she was tired. At least the arguing was over now. It was done.

  “THANK THE GODS, you’re back!” Mhysra had hardly entered the rear gate when Milluqua pounced. “Don’t you realise how late it is?”

  Too tired to have taken much notice, Mhysra glanced up at the tumbling snow as she was dragged into the house. “It slipped my mind.”

  “Fool,” Milluqua growled, taking the backstairs and elbowing open the servant door to Mhysra’s room, where a tub steamed by the fireplace. “Get in and give me that uniform.”

  Mhysra was happy to comply, shedding her clothes and moaning as the water enveloped her tense muscles. “You’re a miracle from Divine Lithaen, Milli, sent down especially just to aid me.” Ducking down, she scrubbed at her hair and reached for the soap.

  Milluqua held up the new breeches and tutted. “It’s scandalous the rags they give you new recruits. Kilai went through two pairs in his first month. I’ll have some more made. Same pattern, better cloth.”

  Yawning, Mhysra soaped her feet and scowled at a new blister on her heel. “What’s the point in using the finest materials when half of us will drop out before New Year?”

  “Three moons? Ha! You think more of your fellow students than the rest of the city. From what I’ve heard, they don’t expect any girl to last through to Winter Rains.”

  Mhysra scowled and scrubbed her arms: Winter Rains was only a month and a half away. “I hope you took their bets, the insufferable fools.”

  “Of course I did,” her sister assured her, pulling a dress from the wardrobe and brushing it off. “You should hear some of the idiots talk. And they call themselves gentlemen! It’s long past time we women shook some sense into them. I’m hoping you’ll be just the girl to do it.”

  “Perhaps,” she demurred, curious about the sort of people she would meet in the morning. “If I’m not, I’m sure someone will. The Rift Riders won’t know what’s hit them.”

  “Good. Now get out and get dressed. Father’s been asking for you since noon, and if you don’t get downstairs soon he’ll know something’s up. You’re lucky Mother’s off sailing again. I don’t think we could do this if she’d stayed.”

  Sharing a grimace with her sister, Mhysra emerged from the glorious water and dressed. As she was brushing her hair there was a scratch at the door and Milluqua admitted Bumble. Yipping happily, the puppy bounded over.

  Mhysra fended her off with a foot. “Not now, pup.”

  Bumble sat with a frustrated huff and started chewing her mistress’ discarded belt.

  “Nuisance,” Milluqua scolded, tapping her gently on the muzzle and rescuing the leather. “What will you do with her tomorrow?”

  Mhysra wrinkled her nose. “Not sure. Take her along probably. I doubt my teachers will approve, but I’ve nowhere else to leave her.” She sighed and plaited her hair. “What was Aunt Mhylla thinking?”

  “Perhaps it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with Bumble,” Milluqua suggested, scooping the puppy up and tickling her silky ears. “She is rather fixed on you.”

  “Well, she can’t have me. Not during the day. But if I leave her here she’ll howl the house down.”

  “Bring her to me before you go. I’ll look after her.”

  Pausing in arranging her hair, Mhysra stared at her sister’s reflection. “You want me to bring her to you? To look after while I’m at the selection school?”

  Milluqua raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I said.”

  Mhysra thought about the destruction her wilful puppy caused daily, from chewing everything within reach to making messes and smells in the most inconvenient places. She considered the perfection of her sister’s rooms and her prized collection of shoes. Then there was the fact that Milluqua rarely rose before noon, while Bumble liked to play in the morning. The earlier the better.

  She smiled. “You really do want me to succeed, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Milluqua confirmed, dumping the dog in favour of pinning her sister’s hair up properly. “So don’t let me down.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  “Don’t. Or you’ll be paying for every pair of shoes your wretched mutt wrecks.”