Wingborn

by Becca Lusher

  Fourteen

  Test Flight

  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 do 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 sixteen years,” Lyrai remarked dryly, watching the pair reappear.

  Hurricane chuckled. “In sixteen 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 under 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 that morning, and was even less impressed that he was bonded to the lieutenant. Only the fact that Cumulo was Wingborn – and thus superior in every possible 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 just 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 when 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 on all this soft grass.”

  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. Sort of. If mostly mocking him and the others counted as support.

  “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 grimaced. “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 learn to cope,” 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 even 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 already, 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 to
o 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. Well, anything else.

  “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 your role as flight instructor anymore.”

  Lyrai lifted his head as Mouse misjudged his mounting manoeuvre and tumbled straight 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… ish.”

  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 low 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 he couldn’t be bothered. Instead he studied the little eagle standing patiently still 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 Rider student’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 to 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. “Since 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 when 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 an excited whoop 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 the pair would refuse. Lyrai and the other Riders straightened, preparing to fetch her down.

  “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 to think 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 Peaks 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. “Well, 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.

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

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

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

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

  “Good evening, Mhysra.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Do not,” Lady Kilpapan interrupted sternly, “mention Cumulo. We’ve had this conversation before. I told you what the price of disobedience would be. Your aunt refuses to take him back with her, but since you will be on the same voyage I have come to believe that is the wisest choice. Instead I will visit the Rift Rider offices tomorrow. I am certain they will take him, and gladly, for they need every miryhl they can get.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “My family lives at Wrentheria.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  The door was locked. She was trapped.