Wingborn (47 page)

Corin
’
s arrow punched through the kaz-naghkt
’
s temple, Derrain
’
s through its ribcage, forcing it
sideways. The Rider it had been mauling had enough strength to stab
it through the chest, before he collapsed across his saddle. His
miryhl twisted frantically, keening in distress, trying to see what
state its bonded was in. The Rider flopped weakly about, in danger
of falling, one side of his saddle straps frayed almost to
breaking.

“Down!”
Lieutenant Hlen shouted. “Get to the healers!”

The miryhl straightened under the order and
glided to the Lawn, where helpers were already dealing with the
wounded. Derrain watched them land, then turned back to the
fight.

Corin shot again, hitting a kaz-naghkt from
behind, but the arrow shattered against the lumpy scales.
“
Won
’
t try that again,
”
she growled, loosing a second arrow into
the kaz-naghkt
’
s
wing.

A swarm of missiles from other windows
repeated the trick, and the creature screamed as both of its wings
were shredded. It dropped in search of safety, only to be caught by
a roving pack of nakhounds. The cute dogs Derrain had played with
when visiting Bumble were completely different now. Savage, swift
and deadly, they swarmed the kaz-naghkt and stripped it to the
bone.

Lieutenant Willym raced past their window,
harrying a wounded kaz-naghkt. Stirla led a charge to defend two
wounded Riders. Captain Myran circled overhead, calling out orders
and holding his own. Captain Fredkhen dashed towards the tower, a
wall of kaz-naghkt on his tail.

At the last moment his miryhl lifted,
leaving the kaz-naghkt exposed to the archers. Riddled with arrows,
all but one fell into the roaring river beneath.

The dark wings of the kaz-naghkt were
everywhere – and so were the miryhls. Above Aquila, the Riders were
winning. Black blood stained the citadel and the river was clogged
with bodies but, despite their superior numbers and the advantage
of surprise, the kaz-naghkt were losing.

More high points around the citadel were
soon manned by students with bows. The loose miryhls and nakhound
packs scrapped fiercely with the enemy, leaving the Riders little
to do, except drive the kaz-naghkt towards the defenders.

Every time Derrain wondered if it was right
to feel satisfied at the death of a kaz-naghkt, he remembered the
stories he
’
d heard and
the villages he
’
d seen,
ravaged by attacks. He remembered the haunted eyes of the children
left behind, the nightmares of survivors, the screams of the
mutilated and soul-scarred survivors. He remembered Feather Frost
and the many lives lost there, including his uncle. Then he pulled
another arrow from his quiver and raised his bow.

“This is for
you,” he whispered, piercing another creature through the neck.

MHYSRA CIRCLED THE
battle watchfully. They were winning. She
’
d known that from the moment Hurricane
swooped in to save them, but now she could finally see it. The
kaz-naghkt swarm was broken. Miryhls outnumbered them two to one,
then three, then four.

The remaining creatures fled and she was
willing to let them go. So many were dead: what damage could these
final few do? It was an empty question, since she had no arrows
left and Cumulo was too tired to fight any longer. They could only
watch as the last kaz-naghkt were killed or escaped over the craggy
mountainside.

Free miryhls swept along the valley and down
into the town, eager to ensure that the enemy was gone. The mounted
ones sagged with tiredness, turning to round up the nakhounds. To
improve matters it began spitting with rain. Much as Mhysra needed
a bath, she
’
d prefer it
to be warm.

Leaning against Cumulo
’
s back, she sighed.
“
Let
’
s go, Cue.
”

He didn
’
t answer, just circled and glided towards the
bridge, aiming for a hatch this time.

Murmuring compliments, she removed his tack
and rubbed him down, until he shoved her away.
“
I need a bath,
”
he rumbled.
“
And so do you. I
’
m going to sit in the rain.
”

Understanding how he felt, she left him
alone and dumped his harness in the tack room where the attendants
promised to clean it. She was so tired.

Half-tumbling down the stairs, she found
Derrain waiting for her at the bottom.
“
We
’
re
real Riders now,
”
he
greeted, catching her against him.

Resting her head on his chest, she
shuddered.
“
If
you
’
d been a breath
later with the alarm –
”

“
Don’
t,
”
he interrupted, stroking her damp hair.
“
It
’
s over. Don
’
t think about might-have-beens and
could-have-happeneds. No ifs, no buts. It
’
s over.
”

Sighing, she rubbed soothing circles on his
chest.
“
You did well,
Derry.
”

His smile was a shadow of its usual self,
but she appreciated the effort.
“
So did you.
”

“And you
smell.”

This time his grin was pure Derrain.
“
So do you.
”
Stepping back, he looked her over
and wrapped an arm around her trembling shoulders.
“
Come on, little warrior, bath
time. Then you can sleep for a moon. Did you do anything exciting
while you were out there?
”

“
I
almost shot Lyrai,” she said, reliving the heart-stopping horror of
the moment when she’d thought he wouldn’
t duck and that her
arrow hadn
’
t gone wide
enough.

“
And I
missed a chance at Willym.” He sighed. “Still, it was our first
fight. We’
ll practise.
”

Hearing the hollow note in his voice,
despite his efforts to joke, Mhysra patted his chest again.
“
Practise is what
we
’
re here
for,
”
she reminded him.
“
One day we
won
’
t even care what
we
’
re
shooting.
”

“
I hope
not,” he murmured. “I don’
t ever want to get that
comfortable with killing.
”

Thinking that she didn
’
t either, not even with kaz-naghkt, she
patted him again and leant against him all the way to the bath
caverns.
“
What would I
do without you, Derry?
”
she asked as they shed their coats and boots in the anteroom.

Not looking at her, he meticulously folded
his outer clothes and stored them on the shelf.
“
Thanks to you and Cumulo, you
didn
’
t have to find out
today.
”
After putting
his boots with his things, he turned.
“
I thank Maegla every day that I became your friend,
Mhysra, and on days like today She rewards me for it.
”
Cupping her face between his
hands, he kissed her forehead.
“
Thank you, little sister, for saving my life. And
for preserving yours.
”

She stared up at him, surprised to see a
sheen of tears in his eyes and to find a shimmer in her own.
“
I
’
m not ready to die yet. Nor let you
either.
”

He dropped his hands and smiled.
“
Glad to hear it.
”
Grabbing a towel, he flicked her with it.
“
Now get washed. Just
because you
’
re my
friend, doesn
’
t mean I
have to
put up with you
when you stink.
”

13
^th
Thaw

R
AIN SPLATTERED AGAINST
the windows as Mhysra climbed
high inside the eastern citadel. Thaw month was living up to its
name and it had been drizzling non-stop for days. Soon even the
lake would be free of ice. Pausing to catch her breath after a
particularly steep flight of stairs, Mhysra peered out at the
drowning world. The river roared along its banks, flooding the Lawn
and almost filling the arch of the bridge.

Not that anyone was complaining. Thanks to
this downpour, all signs of the recent kaz-naghkt attack had been
scoured away. At least on the surface.

Leaving the window, Mhysra walked to the end
of the corridor. The ward was almost empty now; the lesser wounded
having been discharged, while the worst had expired. It left only
fractures, non-fatal wounds and the feverish to languish in the
airy room.

Mhysra smiled hesitantly at the healer on
duty.
“
Lieutenant Lyrai
sent for me?
”

The healer rose from behind his desk, his
height all the more impressive for his fragile slenderness.
“
Oh, so you
’
re
that
one, are
you?
”
Unsure how to
answer, she shrugged and he smiled.
“
Come along, student, he
’
s been asking for you. Repeatedly.
”

Hurrying after him, she kept her eyes on the
healer
’
s back. It was
hard to imagine that this clean, peaceful place had been filled to
overflowing just days before, when she and Derrain had dragged
Dhori up to get his scratches looked at. There
’
d been blood everywhere, while men
screamed in their beds. Now everything was white and scrubbed; all
signs of death firmly out of sight.

The few Riders they passed were sleeping,
splinted legs elevated, broken shoulders and arms heavily strapped.
The man at the end gargled with every breath, but when
Mhysra
’
s footsteps
faltered the healer smiled reassuringly at her.

“Just a cold.
He landed in the river. Luckily he was fished out before he went
over the falls.”

She smiled back – and shuddered when the
healer looked away. While waiting for Dhori to be seen, Derrain and
she had held the hands of a Rider whose lungs had sounded like
that. His chest wound had turned his uniform black. Yet
he
’
d managed to break
Derrain
’
s little finger
when he choked at the end. A junior healer had strapped it up while
her master saw to Dhori.

“
Here.
Special room for the special lieutenant.” The healer
grinned
as he opened the door.

“I never asked
for special treatment,” a gruff voice grumbled from the bed.

“
No, but
the others did.” The healer winked at Mhysra as he checked
Lyrai’
s notes, then took the lieutenant
’
s pulse.
“
They couldn
’
t sleep for your fretting. Well, either that or
your snoring. I
’
m not
sure which was worse.
”

Ignoring him, Lyrai narrowed his eyes at
Mhysra.
“
Here, are you?
Took your time.
”

The healer poked the lieutenant in the
cheek.
“
Open your mouth
so I can check your throat. And don
’
t take any notice of him, child, the fever has made
him grumpy.
”

“
More
than usual?” she quipped, though in truth she was shocked: Lyrai
looked terrible. His eyes were bright but underlined by black
shadows. His cheeks were feverishly red and his fair hair was
sweaty and sticking up at odd angles. His hands trembled when he
tugged the blanket up his chest. T
hanks to the healer taking
more time than necessary to check the lieutenant
’
s throat, however, all Mhysra
’
s comment earned was a glare.

“
Let’
s see that leg,
”
the healer said, flicking back the blanket over
Lyrai
’
s right thigh.

The lieutenant started protesting about his
modesty, choked and ended up coughing instead. After a glance at
the angry marks, Mhysra wandered over to the window to inspect the
rain. While she traced droplets with her fingertips, the healer
spoke softly to Lyrai and left with a cheery goodbye.

Mhysra stayed by the window, knowing what
was coming.

“What did you
think you were doing?”

“My duty,” she
muttered, knowing it was rude not to turn around, but she didn’t
think she could bear to argue to his face when he looked so
ragged.

“Student
Mhysra,” he growled, and ended up coughing. In fact, he coughed so
hard that she almost ran for the healer, until he pointed at the
water jug on the nightstand. She poured a glass and held it for him
until his hands stopped shaking. He drained the rest himself.

“
I
shouldn’
t have come,
”
she said, staring at the floor.

“I summoned
you,” he rasped. “Several days ago.”

She sighed.
“
And I came, sir, but it
’
s hard to be berated by an unconscious man and I
didn
’
t have time to wait
for your revival.
”

His lips twitched and he pointed to the
chair beside the bed.
“
Sit. You
’
ve been spending too much time with
Stirla.
”