Wingborn

by Becca Lusher

  Fifteen

  The Illuminai

  32nd Fledgling

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “What?” he had to ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Mother,” Milluqua wheezed.

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

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

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

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

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

  Having worked beneath the countess’ command for many years, Derrain wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Lady Kilpapan might be small and dainty looking, but she also had a will of steel and never took no for an answer.

  He patted Milluqua’s hand as reassuringly as he could. “I’ll find out where they went. You,” he looked around at his friends, “stay here and form a plan.”

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

  “Mhysra!”

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

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

  “Kirdensk, mir ladai?”

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

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

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

  “Thank you, umm, Tal…?”

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

  Mhysra nodded. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “So speaks my sister, the perfect mother.”

  The bitterness in the countess’ voice shocked Mhysra. It almost sounded like jealousy, but surely no one had made her give up her children, no one had forced her to leave them to her sister’s care. No one had demanded she choose between her precious skyships and her three babies. This was Lunrai, Countess Kilpapan: no one would dare. If she had wanted to make it all work, she could have done. She was more than capable of ordering the world to suit herself. After all, Aunt Mhylla had succeeded, despite running both Wrentherin manor and the breeding farm, while also raising her own family. The countess had made her own choices.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Myths, lies, propaganda and stories, that’s all it is. This Wingborn nonsense you’ve stuffed her head with all these years, no wonder she believes it so fervently. But it’s all lies!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Only if you will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Lunrai laughed. “Preferably at my expense.”

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

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

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

  Miryhls. There were miryhls out there.

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

  He had found her. He had come.