Wingborn

by Becca Lusher

  Eighteen

  Aquila

  “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. Even now, 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, means the numbers are holding steady.”

  “Any word from North Point?” Fredkhen asked.

  “Word, yes,” the dean murmured, twirling his quill. “Thirteen students expected, 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 of your own, do not criticise others about how they choose to 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 of the 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 duties? 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 as well on their arrival.”

  Lyrai raised his eyebrows at Stirla and smiled. He doubted their old friend Willym had been happy with the political history post. He’d always fancied himself as 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 for 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 catch up on 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 just 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 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 from diving back into the dry. Looking pitiful, the pup went about her business before 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 walked through 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 mattress, 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, since Bumble was currently 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. “Ooh, 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 on her own.

  “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.

  15th Harvest

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nbsp; “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 from 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 that she wasn’t hungry after all, while the rest grabbed what they could and ran. The escaping girls had tripped over the retreating boys and collectively 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 need to 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 down 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 running 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 it 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 raining 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 left 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 would be impractical to cram them all in up here. It’s impressive enough for what it is.”

  He set off again, awestruck students pattering along behind him, 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 bridge 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.

  “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 had to retire. 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’ve known you for years. And before you complain that you’re wasting away for want of a proper meal, remember 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, he 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 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 she did want her after all. Until Kilai had said it, though, she’d never been able to truly 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. “I’d best check none of them have plucked their birds bald before we continue the tour. I’ll show you where to leave your pup later too. The kennel workers will look after her while you’re busy. She’ll be happier with the rest of the pack. Come on.”

  ALMOST AS SOON as the sun rose over Aquila, Lyrai took Hurricane out for a brief flight to familiarise him with their new home. Along the way he met up with Stirla embarking on a similar mission. Afterwards, they checked their flurries’ miryhls, assessing whether all was well after the long flight and 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 were about ready to send 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 or 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. Some might have thought him handsome, if not for the perpetual sneer that marred his face. “I’m astonished you can fly as it is.”

  “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. “Better than survival. Uphill 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 from time to time, 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 baa’d at random intervals. Until a knock on the door was followed by a student wearing a green messenger cap.

  “Beg pardon, sirs,” the lad said, twisting his cap in his hands. “Dean Marshall says the North Point ship’s docked. Officers’ meeting next bell.” Jamming his cap back onto his head, he swiftly vanished through the door again.

  “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.”