Wingborn (7 page)

“
Now
?
”
he shrieked with horror.
“
You expect me to move into the Rift Rider
eyries looking like
this
?
”
Arching his neck, he examined his plucked chest,
then turned to view his dusty back and ragged tail.
“
I
’
m not fit to be seen!
”

“
Then
you’
d best do something about it, hadn
’
t you?
”

Grumbling, he preened a few primaries and
gagged.
“
Atrocious. Open
the doors, fetch my harness and don
’
t let your stupid puppy eat that, it won
’
t do it any good. I need a
bath.
”

“
That’
s not all you need,
”
Mhysra muttered, but hurried to comply. If he
wanted to be clean, who was she to stop him? As long as he
didn
’
t catch his death
from cold. Scooping up the puppy, she unbolted the hatch, hauled on
the chains to open the doors and grabbed his tack out of its box.
The sooner she settled Cumulo, the sooner she could go back to
pestering her parents. Somehow she doubted that the second half of
her day would prove to be quite as successful as the first.

“I A
M STILL
not convinced
that you should bathe in a reservoir,
”
Mhysra said later that afternoon, as she moved
around her soggy miryhl, riffling her fingers through his damp
feathers, getting out the dirt and encouraging them to dry.
“
It
’
s not very hygienic.
”

Pulling his head up from preening his flight
feathers, Cumulo sniffed.
“
Where else am I supposed to bathe?
”

Mhysra turned to view the world around them.
Nimbys was just one of many mountains making up the northern edge
of the Imercian range, but it, like all the others, was doused in a
heavy blanket of snow. Most of the mountains had some source of
water amongst their craggy peaks, but likewise the majority of them
were frozen. The only reason this lake above Nimbys wasn
’
t was because the city worked very
hard to keep the water flowing.

“
Good
point.” A bird of Cumulo’
s size could hardly be expected to
roll in the snow, like a pair of playful ravens were currently
doing on the slopes above them. Especially considering the state
Cumulo had been in.

“
It’
s too late now anyway.
”
Cumulo sniffed, shook himself thoroughly
and fluffed up like an oversized chicken. He squawked in dismay and
frantically began preening his feathers flat again.

“I suppose,”
Mhysra sighed, helping to smooth him down.

“
And I
could hardly
turn up at the Rider eyries looking like I did.
It would have created completely the wrong impression.
”

She certainly couldn
’
t argue with that.
“
Well, you look splendid now.
”

He puffed up his chest with pride.

“
Apart
from your tail, but I’
m sure it
’
ll grow back soon.
”

Cumulo deflated, peering over his shoulder
and waggling the offending appendage. The feathers were bent and
ragged, but the rest of him looked good. The shore around them was
scattered with broken feathers, several of which had been carried
off and partially chewed by the nakhound pup.

A shadow swept over them and they both
looked up, Mhysra shading her eyes against the pallid sun, Cumulo
half-mantling his wings in protective readiness. An enormous miryhl
circled above them before coming into land. It wasn
’
t the first they
’
d seen this morning, but all the others
had been part of Rider patrols and flown onwards with nothing more
than curious glances. Mhysra soon realised why this one was
different.

Not only was the dark-brown female the
largest she had ever seen – and since female miryhls were usually
bigger than males, this one had to be female – there was also a
familiar Rider on her back. Tall, broad across the shoulders with
merry dark eyes and a scar across his brown cheek, his was a form
she could hardly forget. The stripes on his uniform only made him
more memorable.

“
Lieutenant Stirla,” Mhysra greeted, as the grinning
lieutenant slid down from his saddle and ruffled his
miryhl’
s neck feathers.
“
What brings you up here?
”
She hoped it wasn
’
t to tell them off. She
’
d told Cumulo he shouldn
’
t bathe in the reservoir, but when had he
ever listened to her?

“
Looking
for you, of course. I was starting to think you’
d got
lost,
”
the lieutenant
replied, laughing as the nakhound puppy bounded over to say hello.
After leaning down to stroke her, Stirla eyed Cumulo with an
admiring whistle.
“
Stamp
me impressed and ship me to Havia, that is one good-looking
bird.
”

Ever ready to be admired, Cumulo puffed up
his freshly preened chest, knowing how to tilt his head just so to
make golden highlights glint across his feathers. Behind the
lieutenant, the big female gave an affronted ruffle of her wings
and glowered at her Rider.

“
What’
s his name?
”
Stirla asked, glancing at Mhysra to confirm the
gender before coming closer to inspect Cumulo, the nakhound pup
dancing around his feet.
“
He looks fully grown already, but if he
’
s your Wingborn he can
’
t be more than, what, fifteen?
Does that mean he still has five years of growing to do?
”

A little offended on behalf of the female
eagle, Mhysra folded her arms and clicked her fingers to call her
fawning puppy to heel.
“
Cumulo and I are sixteen,
”
she corrected.
“
As a Wingborn his growth matches mine, so
rather than maturing at twenty, he
’
ll probably stop in a year or two.
”
The glance she shot her miryhl
suggested that though he
might
have almost finished growing physically,
mentally he still had a lot of work to do.

Cumulo winked at her and obligingly spread
his wings for the lieutenant. Show off.

Shooting him a withering glare, Mhysra
approached the neglected female.
“
She
’
s
beautiful. What
’
s her
name, sir?
”
Offering up
her palms, she waited for the miryhl to lower her head, then began
stroking the bird
’
s
face.

“
Hmm?”
His stream of low voiced compliments interrupted, Stirla glanced
briefly over his shoulder. “Oh, that’
s Atyrn. She
’
s great.
”
He went back to admiring Cumulo.

Smiling, Mhysra slid her hands down
Atyrn
’
s neck to the
shoulder joint, and dug her fingers into the muscle. The big
bird
’
s wings sagged and
Atyrn shivered with an ecstatic purr.
“
What a gorgeous girl you are,
”
Mhysra crooned.
“
I
’
ve never seen such a strong, fine
miryhl.
”

Huffing, Cumulo snapped his wings closed and
stepped away from the lieutenant. When Atyrn turned her head to run
an affectionate beak through Mhysra
’
s curls, the young male actually growled, stalking
across the lakeshore to tug his Wingborn away.

Yanked backwards by a proprietary beak,
Mhysra found herself being hustled beneath a jealous wing and
laughed into his damp feathers.
“You’
re such an idiot, Cue.
”

Watching their antics with amusement,
Lieutenant Stirla turned to soothe his miryhl
’
s ruffled pride.
“
You
’
re still the most beautiful girl in the world to
me,
”
he assured her.
“
But it
’
s always nice to make new
friends.
”

Atyrn huffed sulkily but didn
’
t protest when her Rider stroked
her neck.

The lieutenant smiled at Mhysra.
“
If you
’
re ready, I think it
’
s time to move into the eyries.
Everything
’
s been
prepared for you,
”
he
added to Cumulo.
“
And
though I was curious before to see how you settled in, now I
can
’
t wait to set this
pyrefly amongst the sheep.
”

Mhysra looked at Cumulo, unsure if that was
a good thing or not. They were going to cause enough of a stir as
it was by being Wingborn.

Impatient to be admired some more, Cumulo
gave her a hurry-up nudge.

Sighing, she fetched his tack.
“
We
’
ll be there soon, sir, if you wish to go on
ahead.
”

Leaning against Atyrn
’
s side, Stirla gave a lazy wave.
“
We can wait. I
wouldn
’
t miss this for
the Overworld.
”

That was what worried her, but she said
nothing, lifting the saddle and its blanket onto Cumulo
’
s back instead. Settled just
behind his wing joint, the leather seat was light and padded,
ensuring comfort for both of them. As well as the stirrups found on
an ordinary saddle, it also had cups towards the back for a Rider
to tuck their ankles and feet into. This enabled them to lean
forward against their miryhl
’
s neck in secure comfort, while also keeping out of
the wind.

Giving Cumulo time to make sure the saddle
sat right, Mhysra looped the breast harness into place and fastened
the top buckles against the front of the saddle. Then she leant
down to fasten the girth behind his legs, sliding it through the
strap that ran down from the harness.

“Good?” she
asked.

Cumulo flexed his wings and nodded.
“
Good.
”

Slipping the bridle over his beak, Mhysra
secured the strap across it and another behind his head. Then she
looped the reins back over Cumulo
’
s neck, grabbed the puppy, hiked up her skirts and
clambered astride. It wasn
’
t particularly dignified, nor her favourite way to
fly, but at least the skirt was full enough to cover most of her
legs.

“All set?”
Lieutenant Stirla asked, politely averting his eyes while Mhysra
arranged her clothes for maximum modesty. Thankfully, the puppy was
smart enough not to fuss and simply lay down across Mhysra’s
lap.

“Whenever you
are, sir,” she agreed, and waited while Atyrn – the senior miryhl –
hopped towards the cliff edge and dropped out of sight.

“I hate it
when you fly in skirts,” Cumulo grumbled, as they waited for the
other eagle to swoop back up into view.

“
I’
m not particularly fond of it either,
”
Mhysra sighed.
“
But this
’
ll be the last time, I promise.
”

Giving a disapproving sniff, Cumulo shuffled
to the edge of the cliff.
“
It
ha
d
better be,
”
he told her.
“
Now, shall we show them
how it
’
s
done?
”

Without waiting for a reply, he leant
forward, opened his wings and kicked off into the empty air
below.

Wind rushed up to meet them, tugging at
feathers, hair and clothing. Hunching over to protect the pup,
Mhysra forced her skirts as flat as she could and held on for the
ride. Closing her eyes against the rush, she buried her face
against Cumulo
’
s
shoulder and laughed, waiting for the lift of her stomach as he
spread his wings and swept up into the sky.

Atyrn
’
s sharp cry reached them over the swirling winds
and Cumulo screamed his reply, the pup yipping along. Mhysra opened
her eyes as they wheeled away from the high mountain and skimmed
down towards the city. Rocks, snow and ranks of trees whizzed
beneath them, until, suddenly, the mountain seemed to open its
arms. Cradled protectively against the valley
’
s heart, the city of Nimbys sparkled in
the late afternoon light.

It wasn
’
t the biggest city in the Overworld, nor the most
populated. It wasn
’
t the
oldest, nor the most holy. It wasn
’
t the highest, nor was it even the warmest, but it
was memorable.

No matter what Mhysra
’
s personal feelings were about the city,
even she couldn
’
t deny
that from this angle it was an impressive place. Shaped by the
contours of its mountain, Nimbys was certainly different to any
other settlement she had ever seen. Narrow and built up high,
sparkling towers rose from the haze of buildings and, at the open
end of the city, the Cathedral of Maegla dominated as only the
Storm Goddess could. The northern edge of the ravine belonged to
the Stratys Palace, the white marble glowing in the winter sun.

The city between the two wonders was a
mismatch of society and styles. The docklands throbbed with life
and business, while skyships bobbed serenely at their mooring posts
or were beached forlornly in the dry docks. The miryhls rushed
effortlessly above them all, casting shadows across the markets and
streets below, before lifting high to crest the ridge on which the
palace and Flying Corps
’
headquarters stood.