Wingborn (8 page)

Following Atyrn
’
s lead, Cumulo swooped around the official building
and drifted over the wide field beyond. Off-duty Riders ran out of
the eyries and offices, bundled up against the cold, eager to view
this newest curiosity.

Eager to be admired, Cumulo landed with a
series of bounding hops, head high, chest puffed out, freshly
preened feathers gleaming. Mhysra muttered dark things behind his
proud head. Such a landing might look impressive, but it was
horribly uncomfortable, especially when one was trying not to drop
a squirming, brainless pup.

“
That’
s why it loves you,
”
Cumulo remarked as Mhysra released the dog. It
flapped once, then dropped like a stone.
“
It hasn
’
t enough intelligence to do otherwise.
”

Sliding from his saddle, she jabbed his ribs
with her toes on the way down and set about taming her skirt.
“
You
’
re such a charmer,
”
she grumbled, unbuckling his saddle and
harness and pulling them free. When she stepped back, he lowered
his head and unhooked his bridle with a talon, tossing it to her
with a flick.

“
Very
clever,” she drawled. He was showing off, trying to prove that
Wingborn were so much smarter than ordinary miryhls. The only way
he really outdid normal miryhls, in Mhysra’
s opinion, was
the size of his self-consequence.

“Let the
gawping commence,” Lieutenant Stirla chuckled, heading towards the
eyries.

As Mhysra approached the watching crowd,
Cumulo strutting at her side, she had a sudden attack of nerves. It
was one thing to storm the headquarters and demand admittance, but
this was different. Then she
’
d had a goal and nobody could stop her. Especially
not a stuffy paper-pusher who could no more fly than dance on the
Cloud Sea.

Here, however, she was under the eyes of the
experts, and while she knew Cumulo was a superior specimen, she
also knew she wasn
’
t.
Too tall and scrawny to be girly, too flimsy to be boyish. To
strangers she looked weak. Unworthy.

“
Buck
up,” Cumulo murmured. “You’
re my Wingborn. Without you
I
’
m nothing.
”

The unexpected compliment straightened her
spine and raised her chin. He was right, they belonged here. With
these men in their well-worn uniforms, their hands and some of
their faces scarred by the lives they lived. These were Rift
Riders,
real
Rift Riders.

Oh, Gods. Wingborn or not, what experience
did she have to compare to theirs? Would she even get the chance to
try and fit in here?

Cumulo nudged her with his wing, making her
realised that she
’
d
shrunk against him again, like a chick hiding behind its mother.
She straightened up and glanced towards Stirla for guidance. He was
grinning as the crowd parted to reveal the other lieutenant. The
blond one with the cold eyes.

The other man nodded at Stirla and stepped
forward to study the new miryhl. Whistling softly, he walked slowly
around the newcomers.

Cumulo
’
s beak crackled in annoyance and Mhysra touched his
wing, surprised. Her Wingborn had shown no such objection when
Stirla had done the same.

“
Impressive,” the lieutenant announced, his inspection
complete. He smiled, but it didn’
t quite reach his eyes.
“
I see why you were so
determined to join us, my lady.
”

Uncertain of what was expected, she bobbed a
curtsey.
“
Thank you,
sir.
”

“Lieutenant
Lyrai.” He gave a curt bow. “Grounded until the Choice, my miryhl
retired to stud. Wounded.” He looked at Cumulo again, unable to
hide his covetous envy. “I know your name, my lady, but what about
this fine fellow?”

“Cumulo,” she
replied, as her miryhl curled his beak protectively over her
shoulder, tugging her against his chest. She tickled his cheek just
below his eye in his favourite spot, making him purr. “My
Wingborn.”

A ripple ran through the Riders, word
spreading to those who hadn
’
t already heard the news.

Ignoring the talk, Lieutenant Lyrai studied
her and her eagle, taking in Cumulo
’
s protective stance and her affectionate touch.
“
Welcome to the Riders,
Lady Mhysra and Cumulo. We hope you like it here.
”

Something nipped her ankle and she glared
down at the puppy, wondering if she was to be plagued on all sides.
Disapproving lieutenants, stubborn parents, prideful miryhls and
stupid puppies – Maegla aid her to a simple life.

Sighing, she nodded to the lieutenant.
“
Thank you,
sir.
”

From his faint smile and the occasional
mutter from the crowd, not everyone was keen on readmitting women
to the Riders.

Mhysra lifted her chin at the challenge. She
was Wingborn. She belonged here – and she would prove it.

“
Come
on, Cue, let’
s get you settled.
”
Hefting his tack, she scooped up the puppy and
followed the chuckling Stirla inside.

9
^th
Blizzard

“I
DON’T KNOW
what you
’
re worrying about,
”
Mherrin told Mhysra three days later as they
ambled through the Cathedral market.
“
You
’
ve
got an official letter from Mam already, which should be enough for
even the highest sticklers.
”

“
Except
that sniffy clerk,” Mhysra grumbled, slapping her gloved hands
together to generate some warmth. It had snowed heavily overnight,
making her doubly grateful that Cumulo now had other miryhls to
huddle up with. “He wants a letter from my father.” Deep down she
wanted one from him too. Surely after all these years of ignoring
her, the earl could do this one small thing to secure her future
happiness. He’
d done it for Kilai.

“
I can
write you a letter from your father,” Mherrin assured her blithely,
as though forging an earl’
s seal was no small feat.
“
I
’
ve been practising.
”

He sounded so pleased with himself that
Mhysra had to smile.
“
What would your mother say?
”

Mherrin
grinned. “It was her idea in the first place.”

Knowing she should be shocked, considering
the potential illegalities, Mhysra shook her head, unsurprised by
the attitudes of both her aunt and cousin. To them the solution was
simple, so everything else was nonsense.
“
I don
’
t want you to get in trouble.
”
Forgery carried heavy penalties, such as
imprisonment and work camps.

“
We
won’
t get caught,
”
he said confidently.
“
And it
’
ll save you from continuing to bang your head
against that brick wall. You know he
’
ll never change his mind.
”

“
I
know,” she sighed, but she still couldn’
t stop hoping. It
was all so underhand. She hated starting out her Rift Rider career
based on a lie, but what choice did she have?

“Well, well,
look what the pyrefly dragged in.”

The cousins stopped as a young man stepped
into their path. Mhysra tilted her head right back to meet a pair
of merry brown eyes.

“
Derry!”
She launched herself into his arms and was wrapped in a
great bear hug.

Slapping him on the shoulder, Mherrin
started asking questions:
“
When did you get back? Did you come on the
Illuminai
? Was my aunt with you?
”
Looping an arm around Mhysra
’
s waist, he hauled her backwards.
“
Try not to strangle the
man, cuz.
”

Laughing, Derrain ran a hand over his
ruffled hair.
“
We got
back this morning. Yes, I was on the
Illuminai.
And yes, the
countess is home.
”

Mhysra shared a grimace with her cousin,
then smiled at Derrain. The
Illuminai
sailor had been a
regular part of Mhysra and Mherrin
’
s life over the last eight years, having spent most
of his grounded Storm Seasons at Wrentheria. In fact, outside of
her family and Cumulo, Derrain was Mhysra
’
s closest friend, always ready to lead or
follow her into trouble.

“
It’
s good to see you, Derry.
”

“You might not
think that in a month or two.” He winked at Mherrin.

Mhysra frowned, sensing that she was missing
something.
“
A bit late
for the Storm Season, aren
’
t you?
”
That autumnal month seemed far behind now, though the memory of the
horsat obstacle course relay still made her smile.
“
Or has the captain finally seen
sense and pensioned you off?
”

“In a way,”
Derrain agreed, with a mild and infuriating smile.

She narrowed her eyes.
“
What aren
’
t you telling me?
”
At a chuckle from her cousin, she turned to glare
at him instead.
“
What do
you know, Mherrin?
”

“
Plenty,” Mherrin said, highly amused. “I’
m not just
a pretty face, you know.
”

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to Derrain
and poked his broad chest.
“
Spill it.
”

Catching her finger, he swung her arm wide,
twirling her in the middle of the busy market square.
“
You know how you talked and talked
and
talked
my ear off all the way from Wrentheria about
becoming a Rift Rider?
”

Stumbling to a stop, she frowned.
“
I wasn
’
t that bad.
”

“Yes, you
were,” the boys chorused.

“
You
weren’
t even there!
”
Mhysra cried indignantly, elbowing her cousin in
the ribs.

“But I can
imagine,” he retorted, and gave a theatrical shudder. “Ai, Maegla,
can I imagine.”

Chuckling, Derrain grabbed Mhysra
’
s hand before she could punch
Mherrin
’
s arm, and spun
her around again.
“
Ignore him, I
’
m talking. You need to know that all your words
worked.
”

Grabbing his hands to stop him from spinning
her again, too dizzy to think straight, she shook her head.
“
What?
”

“
I’
ve decided to become a Rider too.
”

The world seemed to whirl again as she
stared up at the familiar face of her oldest friend.
“
But you
’
re a skysailor,
”
she said, confused.
“
And enrolment closed days ago.
”

“
A
marvellous thing messenger post,” he said lightly. “I thought
you’
d be pleased.
”

“
I-I
am,” she stuttered, though in truth she felt shocked. “But I
don’
t understand. You love being a skysailor.
”

Derrain smiled.
“
I
’
ve
been doing that for ten years, and I
’
m seventeen now, practically an adult in some
places. I fancied a change and, like I said, your talking worked on
me. You made it all sound wonderful and I
’
ve always wondered how it feels to fly a
miryhl.
”

Both cousins looked sceptical. Not once in
all his years of staying at Wrentheria had Derrain shown the
slightest interest in flying on miryhlback. In fact, he
’
d often said he preferred his
flight with a solid deck beneath him.

Derrain
’
s smile faded again and he ran his hand through his
hair with a sigh.
“
I
thought you could use a friend. I know you have Cumulo,
”
he added, before she could
interrupt,
“
but he
can
’
t be with you all
the time, and well, this girl Rider thing is so new. I thought it
wouldn
’
t be so bad if we
did it together.
”

A great rush of affection swelled inside her
and she hugged the big, brawny sailor again. Any miryhl he tried to
ride would have to be enormous, but there would never be a
truer-hearted Rider.
“
You
’
re
the best, Derry.
”

“Hey,” Mherrin
protested mildly. “I thought that was me.”

“
You’
ve been usurped,
”
she told him with a sniff.

“
Fickle
female,” he grumbled, pretending to be offended, and shook
Derrain’
s hand.
“
I think you
’
re both fools, but good luck with it anyway.
Who
’
d you get to
recommend you?
”

As the elite force across the Overworld, the
Rift Riders had long been a stronghold for well-born second sons
and rich families, but that didn
’
t mean it was entirely exclusive. Anyone could
join, as long as they had a letter of recommendation from someone
trustworthy. In times past these letters had come from sponsors,
who paid for a young Rider
’
s education. These days taxes took care of such
things, but the recommendation tradition remained.