Wingborn (24 page)

“Thank you,
captain. Perhaps it will ease your mind to know that until this
summer I have lived with my aunt and know nothing about the
Kilpapan business.”

“A little.” He
smiled again. “A very little, but I’d be honoured if you would bide
a while and share your story, while we return you and your fine
friend to Nimbys. It will be an enjoyable journey.”

Exchanging amused glances with Cumulo, she
smiled at the captain.
“
We
would
be delighted.
”

THE SHORT TRIP
back
to Nimbys was fun. Despite his spates of flummery, Captain Torven
was good company. After asking about Wrentheria and the Lowlands,
he regaled Mhysra with tales of his travels and life in the Storm
Peaks. All accompanied by an irrepressible twinkle in his eye.
Mhysra doubted she could believe a word, but he was amusing. After
a while Cumulo settled down for a snooze, satisfied that his
Wingborn was safe.

When Nimbys came into view, gilded by the
evening light, the captain excused himself. Horsat messengers were
dispatched and sailors filled the deck, pulling in side sails and
adjusting the ballast, while others secured the hold. Leaning
against the prow rail, Mhysra peered down at the excited youngsters
rushing onto the outer walkways of the lower decks, eager for their
first glimpse of Nimbys. These would be her year mates at Aquila,
and she hoped that more would prove friends than foes.

“You’re
fretting again,” Cumulo murmured over her shoulder.

“
Better
prepared than surprised,” she replied, while
sailors hustled
the students away.

Captain Torven
ordered the hatches opened and the signaller blew the horn. The
sound boomed down the ship’s bow and echoed against the
mountainside, until the whole sky rang with it.

The
captain approached Mhysra
as loose miryhls emerged from the
belly of the ship.
“
Would you guide them to their new home, my
lady?
”

Mhysra glanced at Cumulo, eyebrows raised.
Someone would be coming from the barracks to collect them, but she
didn
’
t mind helping. It
depended on her miryhl. He tilted his head, sighed and lowered his
wing.

“Is that a
yes?”

Mhysra grinned and accepted the hand Torven
offered.
“
It is,
captain. Thank you for your company. I hope we meet again
sometime.
”

“I am sure of
it,” he agreed, kissing her hand again. “Perhaps sooner than you
think.” Winking, he stepped back so she could mount. At her curious
glance, he laughed. “Till next time!”

Cumulo opened his wings, cleared the deck
with a bound and they launched into a sky filled with miryhls.

LYRAI WAS IN LOVE.
I
t was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever
seen. Not to mention the most frustrating. The last of the Storm
Peak miryhls refused to enter the temporary eyries and, as part of
that refusal, it would not be caught. A brute of a bird, the eagle
was almost as tall as Cumulo but wider across the chest. It looked
powerful and fierce, hissing at anyone who came too close.

Riders made loops out of their ropes and
tried to restrain it, but the miryhl was too quick. Surprisingly
nimble, it skipped out of reach, catching the loop in its beak,
before tossing it contemptuously back.

Lyrai smiled at its antics, seduced by the
big creature
’
s grace. It
was an unusual colour: deep brown and pale cream mottled in an
extraordinary mixture. A marble miryhl. He
’
d heard of them and always thought they
sounded ugly. Standing before such a magnificent specimen now,
though, he could see only beauty.

The miryhl
’
s face was the shade of sun-warmed pine, with dark
circles around golden eyes. The crown of its head was the same
darkness, continuing in a broad stripe down its neck and across its
back, running in bars along its wings. The feathers on the
underside of its body and chest were marbled from white to a brown
so dark it was almost black. The wings were cream and biscuit
between the dark bars, running into brown at the tips. Delicate
flecks of caramel, gold and black dotted its feathers, like
sparkles and secrets.

Lyrai was infatuated. There was no doubt in
his mind which miryhl he would choose come the Choice, but only if
the Riders didn
’
t drive
it off first with their ineptitude.

Stirla
whistled beside him. “I’
ve not been so impressed since I
first saw Cumulo.
”

Lyrai snorted.
“
As that was barely a half-year ago, forgive me for
not swooning.
”

“
Ah, but
before that,” Stirla said airily, “the last time I was
this
impressed was by Atyrn. Not that either
’
s a patch on my girl, of course. Cumulo thinks
he
’
s too smart and this
one
’
s a
brute.
”

They both studied the brute in question as
it ducked a loop, only to be snared by one thrown from behind. The
miryhl wheeled sharply, wrenching the rope from the
Rider
’
s hand. The eagle
shrieked and snapped at all within reach, stamping on the rope and
worrying at it with its beak, but only managed to tighten the
knot.

“
That’
s not good,
”
Stirla murmured, wincing at the miryhl
’
s scream. Catching a second rope,
the bird yanked the offending Rider off his feet. Only a quick grab
from his friends prevented the man from being dragged within the
miryhl
’
s reach.
“
You might want to
intervene.
”

“
Fools!”
Lyrai snapped, paying his friend no attention, as the miryhl
tangled its feet in the rope. “They’
ll kill it before we
even get to the Choice.
”

“
Which
is where you come in,” Stirla said. “Off you go. Pull on your
captain boots and prove your mettle, or whatever it is we’
re
supposed to be learning around here.
”

Lyrai eyed him sourly, but didn
’
t even bother asking why his
friend didn
’
t do
something himself. Some things were not worth the bother of putting
into words. Besides this was his miryhl – it was up to him to save
it.

The eagle lunged again, tripping and
splaying its gorgeous wings. The Riders pounced, eager to secure it
while it was preoccupied. The miryhl panicked, trying to regain its
tangled feet and flapping its wings to keep the intruders at bay.
More than one flight feather was damaged as they were flailed
against the ground.

Sergeant Rees stamped on the
miryhl
’
s wing to hold it
down while he attempted to put a rope around the bird. Rolling to
the side, the miryhl slashed out with its feet, knocking Rees over
and very nearly slicing him from neck to navel.

“Enough!”
Lyrai roared, deciding everything had gone too far. “Stand down! I
order you to stop!”

Rees struggled to his feet and found himself
facing a furious miryhl, while four Riders roped its wings. They
tightened their grip as the miryhl struck, barely missing the
sergeant.

The eagle screamed, strained and freed a
wing, beating it frantically and damaging more precious feathers on
the sun-baked ground.

“
Stand down!
” Lyrai shouted. “I said stand down!
All
of you!
”

By now six Riders clung to the ropes on the
miryhl
’
s left, while
another three had managed to loop its neck, but at Lyrai
’
s bellow they reluctantly let go.
Even Rees rolled clear in the face of Lyrai
’
s rage.

“Back away
from the miryhl,” he commanded, keeping his voice low, trying not
to distress the bird any further. “All of you. Now.”

“You heard the
lieutenant,” said an unexpected but much welcomed voice. Captain
Myran had arrived. “Timpkins, throw that rope and I will tie you up
and present you personally to this miryhl for breakfast.”

Rider Timpkins dropped the rope as though it
burned, and the circle of men shifted back another six paces.
Everyone waited, looking between the miryhl and the man behind
Lyrai.

A broad hand squeezed his shoulder
approvingly.
“
Proceed,
lieutenant.
”

Not taking his eyes from the panicked bird,
Lyrai lowered his chin in a grateful nod.
“
Thank you, sir. Forgive me for not
saluting.
”

Captain Myran chuckled.
“
Formalities are taken as done, lieutenant.
Now soothe that miryhl.
”

Lyrai nodded again and took a tentative step
forward. The miryhl hissed and Lyrai sank down, resting his weight
on his haunches.
“
All
right, my beauty,
”
he
crooned.
“
Steady
now.
”

The miryhl cautiously folded its unbound
wing, though it kept an alert eye on Lyrai
’
s creeping progress. When he got too close
the eagle growled, flexing its free foot.

“
Steady,” Lyrai murmured. “You’
re in a tangle and
need my help. I won
’
t
hurt you, my fine one.
”
Keeping his voice soft, he continued praising the miryhl and
creeping closer until he was within half a pace of the sharp
talons. The eagle scraped the ground but didn
’
t strike.

“
Good,
that’s good,” he praised, reaching for the tangled rope. The miryhl
flinched, as did Lyrai, and both froze. They sighed in unison when
neither struck and Lyrai slid his knife from his boot, careful to
let the eagle see what he was doing at all times. “We’
ll
soon have you free, friend.
”
Reaching for the ropes, he sliced through a third
of the thickly woven width before the miryhl jerked away.

“All right,”
Lyrai crooned. “Think you can handle it now?”

Watching Lyrai warily, the miryhl stretched
out. With a crack of that deadly beak, it snapped the rope.

“
Good,”
Lyrai whispered, pulling the bindings free and taking care not to
touch the miryhl any more than necessary. “There.” Tugging the last
of the rope away
, Lyrai hopped back as the bird rolled to
its feet, but when it found its left wing still tied it shrieked in
outrage.

“Watch
out!”

Until now the Riders have been mercifully
silent, but as one onlooker shouted the obvious the miryhl
remembered it wasn
’
t
alone and lunged for the nearest target.

Swallowing hard, Lyrai dropped to his knees,
keeping his hands low and his head bowed. A puff of air caressed
his cheek as the bird
’
s
beak passed but didn
’
t
make contact. Not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe, Lyrai
waited, watching the shadow on the grass as the miryhl loomed over
him.

Warm breath separated his hair, then touched
his forehead, nose and chin, before a smooth beak rested against
his cheek and chest. Lyrai barely had time to look up before he was
flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him by a hard shove.

Deep brown eyes glinted as the miryhl arched
its neck and put them beak-to-nose.
“
Untie me,
”
it rasped, and though its voice was hoarse from
its screams it was also clearly male.

Lyrai blinked, stunned at being spoken to so
causally. He nodded.
“
Let me up first.
”

Huffing, the miryhl moved back a pace,
allowing Lyrai to roll to his feet and snatch up his knife. In the
end he didn
’
t need it,
the noose slackened beneath his fingers and the eagle was free. The
big male swung his head to meet Lyrai
’
s gaze, nodded in thanks and launched, broad wings
opening with a crack.

“Wait!” Lyrai
called. Buffeted by the downdraft as the miryhl flew into the
gathering dusk, he could only watch with envy as the bird powered
away. Lyrai wanted this miryhl; no other would do.

“Congratulations, lieutenant.” Captain Myran watched the glorious
eagle swirl around the mountainside and out of sight. “You handled
that admirably. I assume you have no need to wait for the
Choice?”

Lyrai barely heard the praise – a rare
honour from his captain that at any other time would have filled
him with pleasure.
“
He
spoke.
”

“
I
noticed.” Myran sounded amused. “Perhaps when he returns you should
take him to the Rider eyries. I don’
t think he liked the
look of the other one.
”

“He spoke to
me,” Lyrai repeated, not paying attention. “Without a ceremony or a
temporary bond. Or anything.”

“Yes.”

“
I want
him.
If he doesn
’
t come back, I
’
ll look for him.
”

Captain Myran patted him on the shoulder.
“
He
’
ll be back.
”
When Lyrai still didn
’
t look at him, the captain turned away.
“
Come on, Stirla, let
’
s see how the other new arrivals
are faring. Your fellow lieutenant
’
s a little preoccupied.
”

Preoccupied was not how Lyrai would have put
it, more like ensnared. It was as though by releasing the miryhl
from the ropes, he
’
d
entangled himself. For the briefest moment it had felt glorious.
When the miryhl loomed over him, capable of killing with one blow,
he hadn
’
t felt afraid.
His heart had pounded, but not with panic, and when he spoke Lyrai
felt as though Maegla Herself had smiled on him.