Chapter One
Command
----------------------------------------
For the first time in months, the Breadth between Mistwatch and the foot of the Endari Wilds lay clear. It was strange, seeing the near six-league swath of open land with his own eyes, rather than the spiritual sense Rhydian had come to rely upon over the past year. Mentally, he knew the terrain like the back of his hand and yet, looking upon it now was like peering into another world. The cloudy sea upon which the mountain stronghold usually drifted had retreated entirely today, leaving the Breadth open and bare in a way he’d rarely witnessed.
His secondrider, Ayduin, shuddered as she peered out over the ledge of the wyvernlair overhang. Much like his own, her dusky, blue-gray skin and ink black braid nearly matched the pre-dawn sky. Her arms were crossed, her figure tipped forward at the waist in a manner that left her knee-length braid swaying in the breeze in her inspection.
“Never thought I’d miss the fog,” she muttered.
Rhydian followed her gaze, knowing full well what had caught her attention.
Far below, along the slopes of the mountain, trees scuttled among the crags on spindly, spider–like roots. Having been stationed here as long as he had, the sight should have become trivial, but the interminable mists veiled the cursed things as much as they did everything else. It was easy to forget what lurked beneath. Unsettling as they were, the trees posed no real threat and their souls were too weak to garner his attention when he cast the spiritual net of his awareness out during their patrols. He’d nearly forgotten about them entirely, if he were honest.
“You and I both,” he said.
She inclined her head and above her, her wyvern craned his neck to mirror the gesture. The pair studied the writhing mass with no small amount of interest.
“What do you think happens when one of them tips over? Does it just . . . wiggle around?”
Rhydian wasn’t particularly fond of the image his mind had conjured; of an evergreen knocked on its side, knobby roots flailing about for purchase like the legs of some giant insect.
“If you’d like to fly down there and find out,” he said, sparing her a glance, “by all means.”
Her vulpine face pinched, an involuntary shiver rippling through her body and into her wyvern. The great copper beast ruffled his wings, eyeing her sidelong in his indignation, but Ayduin only scowled. She tossed her braid back over her shoulder, taking a healthy step back as she did.
“No, no, I’m perfectly content up here. Thank you.”
Rhydian shook his head. “Come. I want to be skyworthy by the time twilight patrol returns. I’d like to put eyes on the Breadth while the weather holds.”
“Fine, fine,” she sighed, “so long as herding trees isn’t on the itinerary.”
“I’d rather continue on as if they didn’t exist,” he said.
Beside him, his own wyvern snorted her agreement, breath churning from her nostrils in the crisp autumn air. She rested upon her belly as she awaited his pre-flight inspection of her tack, one wing angled to assist the climb up to her back where the saddle lay anchored directly to the large, boney plates of her spine. She was larger than Ayduin’s copper, as most females of their species were, her hide muted by comparison. Females lacked the bold colors and metallic luster of the males, not that Rhydian had ever complained. Tanuzet had been born to blend in, to melt into the depths of the forest with her deep green scales and the intermittent striping along the length of her neck and flanks.
She turned expectant eyes upon him, more yellow than they were gold. Her anticipation radiated through their bond and into his own body, the thrill of taking flight on a crisp morning breeze singing in his blood. A small smile touched his lips. He took a step toward her, though before he could so much as reach for her wing, she stiffened and her nostrils flared. Alarm spiked between them and she swung her massive head skyward to monitor the altostratus clouds to the northwest for a long moment. She eased, but only just. Rhydian felt the warm press of her mind against his, seeking permission to meld.
He accepted without hesitation.
All at once, his mental core and senses expanded as they layered with Tanuzet’s. Their minds, their heart beats, even the flow of their rysk through their meridians, synchronized. Two distinct scents carried on the wind: one Adai astride a single wyvern. And no one they knew, by the smell. Protocol usually required any inbound wyvern to announce their approach, regardless of post or rank. Whomever flew within the cloud cover wanted to mask their presence as long as possible, it seemed. Someone from command, perhaps?
There were only so many wyverns in active duty among the Talhavar and with Mistwatch as remote as it was, none would simply fly past on their way to another post. One had to go far out of their way to even reach it. Though, Rhydian supposed it could be one of the Elders come to perform a surprise inspection. They were occasionally done at random to evaluate the integrity of an active stronghold. Still, he found it strange they hadn’t announced themselves. Wyvern calls carried for miles and their pitched whistles and knickers farther still.
Ayduin and Vaelor held their gaze to the sky as well, their pupils dilated as a result of their own mindsharing.
He and Tanuzet reached out with their collective awareness, the spiritual sense that allowed them to perceive the souls and essences of the world around them in a great sphere. They became intimately aware of the stronghold’s occupants, from the men and women gathered in the cloister, to those minding the battlements and wyvernlairs. They could not sense those within the halls of the mountain itself, however. Their awareness could only plunge so deep through solid stone.
But open air . . .
The dyad was too far out of their spiritual range to sense, though judging by the scent, they were close. The pair would be on top of them within moments, given the speeds wyverns could reach, even while gliding. Rhydian sensed their souls before he felt the shift in air pressure above. He withdrew from the meld, skin prickling when his senses receded back into his own body. The cloudbelly above swirled, then parted as a tawny wyvern plunged toward the overhang. She alighted upon its edge, her amber-flecked wings and sailfins settling to reveal the Adai man upon her back.
She offered a low, curious knicker Tanuzet was quick to answer. Even if he could not fully interpret the complex vocalizations of the wyvern language, Rhydian gathered enough from his passive connection to Tanuzet to know this visit was far from routine. It was difficult to gather a passive read on the dyads’ souls, which meant they were either too low in their ascensions, or purposely veiled. Given the situation, Rhydian settled on the latter. The dyad were no mere couriers and he had no intention of offending them by probing their souls further for a more accurate read.
He strode forward, then halted a respectful distance from the female wyvern. He bowed his head with a slow, deliberate blink in the manner favored by wyvern and their kin when greeting one another. She returned the gesture, lowering to her belly to allow her bonded rider to dismount.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
He was a tall man, his olive skin and rich brown flight braid marking his southwestern heritage along the coast. His long, narrow ears hugged the sides of his head far closer than Rhydian’s own and protruded a few inches above his scalp. Like most Talhavar, he was leanly muscled and donned in the standard flight brigandine of black and silver. However, it bore no outward indication of rank, nor division. Or ascension, for that matter.
Welcome to Mistwatch, Tanuzet said, expanding her telepathy for the benefit of all present.
Were that it were under better circumstances, the wyvern said, an air of resignation to her tone, I am Kiraht.
Beside her, her rider offered a bow of his own. “Thylas ne’Kiraht of the Arillian First Wing.”
First Wing.
Rhydian supposed it explained the dyad’s peculiarities. They were of the Talhavar elite, then. He knew little of the rank, beyond their station, of course. Few did, unless they were of high enough ascension or clearance. For the man to be among the Wing, he was at least of his seventh ascension or higher. The realization chased a shiver down Rhydian’s spine.
Remembering himself, he said, “I am Rhydian ne’Tanuzet. This is my secondrider, Ayduin ne’Vaelor.”
Thylas gave an approving nod. “You’re firstrider?”
“Yes, ser. Acting command of Mistwatch.”
“How many are under your charge?”
“Eight dyads in the aerial unit,” Rhydian replied, “Beyond them, there are close to one hundred personnel in the flight.”
Thylas raked them over with an appraising eye.
“My firstrider and I spotted your patrol a few leagues out, though we didn’t engage. You’re next in the rotation, I presume?”
Rhydian nodded. “We’re performing our pre-flight inspections. Twilight is due back within the hour.”
The man considered, sparing a glance toward his wyvern.
“Good, my firstrider and I were sent to run you through an advanced training exercise,” he said, “Summon your third and fourthrider, they’ll be accompanying us as well. Whomever is left will take the place of your current patrol until you return.”
Ayduin passed Rhydian a look. It wouldn’t be their first surprise exercise, but a part of him still found it hard to believe they were being evaluated by members of the First Wing. Surely someone from the second or third would have sufficed? Regardless, he wouldn’t argue. He had his own aspirations of joining their ranks one day. He would be a fool not to leap at the opportunity.
“Of course, ser,” he said.
Tanuzet brought her head high and gave a single, high whistle. From within the wyvernlairs, two more rose in answer in acknowledgement of their summons. Cydan and Keishara would emerge with their wyverns soon enough. In the meantime, Rhydian went about his inspections with fluid, practiced ease. From time to time, he spared a glance toward the dyad, who were no doubt conversing within the privacy of their own minds. They were studying the western edge of the Breadth, though Rhydian decided it best not to speculate the nature of this training exercise. He would find out soon enough, after all.
Within the hour, their unit found themselves perched among the splintered crags of the mountains a few leagues north of Mistwatch. A brisk breeze buffeted their faces and were it not for the nictitating membrane he’d developed during his foundation ascensions, he would have squinted to keep his eyes from watering. He had a clear view of the foothills from his vantage on Tanuzet’s back. Vaelor and Ayduin were perched beside him with Cydan and Keishara situated below on the next ridge astride their wyverns.
The scenario is simple, Kiraht said, her mind-speak clear where Thylas’ would not be, given the wind and space between the grounded unit, We have tracked a person of interest into the area. At present, firstrider Oraena ne’Malys is monitoring their suspected position from the cover of the clouds. Thylas and I will be joining them as we make our approach from the ground.
Tanuzet shifted on her wings, her head angled toward the other wyvern.
Your unit will be providing aerial coverage and will not engage unless deemed necessary. The suspect is believed to be shackled, but our information is unconfirmed, so they are to be considered armed and hostile. Rhydian ne’Tanuzet and Ayduin ne’Vaelor will circle above at low altitude in a clockwise rotation while Cydan ne’Inet and Keishara n’Ephaxus spot from cruising altitude in a wider, counter-clockwise path.
Rhydian nodded, more to himself than anyone else.
If engagement is necessary from low altitude reserves, use ranged attacks only. The suspect is not to be fought in close quarters. Spotters, you will monitor the surrounding hillsides to ensure the operation is not compromised by outside opposition. Blighted, or otherwise.
It was a strange exercise, Rhydian thought. The First Wing dyads appeared to be performing a majority of the operation themselves, but perhaps it was a purposeful misdirection. They likely had additional ground personnel or wyverns on hand to spring an ambush, to see how Rhydian and his unit would adapt to the situation. The lands surrounding the Breadth and the distant wilds were as unpredictable as they were dangerous. The environment was a worthy adversary all on its own and it would be all too easy to hide additional assailants among the trees, rocks and cloud cover. To say nothing of the blighted who could be roaming about.
Keep your nose keen and your eyes quick, Tanuzet said to their unit.
Rhydian had yet to spot or sense the Wing’s firstrider, but his awareness could only reach so far. The stratus clouds they had encountered on their flight provided ample cover for a dyad scouting from above. He found himself searching the hazy mass, as if he might spot wings. Of course, he didn’t. If he had, he would have been mildly disappointed. He expected much from members of the First Wing.
Consider the operation active, Kiraht said and launched into the sky.
Rhydian sensed Tanuzet’s spiritual core contract, condensing the essence in her channels into rysk. The errant gust of wind that propelled them up into the sky was entirely her doing. Tanuzet had a fondness for bending the wind to her will. She speared up into the air, leaving Vaelor and the others behind for the briefest of moments. She wasn't a complete braggart.
As she leveled off, tailing Kiraht at a distance while Inet and Ephaxus shot past them, gaining the necessary altitude and disappearing into the stratus. Rhydian carefully monitored his awareness as they flew, fully anticipating the unexpected arrival of suspect reinforcements or something of the like. Thus far, he sensed nothing out of the ordinary. There were trees and rocks and only the occasional low-level forest dweller.
A wyvern descended from the cloudbelly above, silver wings vibrant despite the watery lighting of an overcast world. Rhydian primed his mental core, then his physical, enhancing his vision and triggering his farsight. The woman upon the wyvern’s back was dressed in the same fashion as Thylas, her long flight braid whipping out behind her like a golden ribbon. Kiraht followed the dyad into a dive, the riders near flush with the backs of their wyverns.
Rhydian veered with Tanuzet, balancing his weight in accordance with her wings as they pulled into their clockwise rotation midway between the ground and stratus. He retrieved his bow from where it had been tied to the saddle. The smooth arc of wood warmed in his hand in response to his fiery affinity. He would have to cool his rysk during the exercise, but he had long since learned to temper it without reducing his efficiency.
Reading his intent through their bond, Tanuzet banked to allow him a clear view of the ground. With her size, it was difficult to spot anything directly below her. The dyad had landed near the stony face of a short cliff wall. He focused his farsight and spied a small opening in the rock. Thylas and his firstrider, Oraena, had dismounted to approach on foot. Neither had drawn a weapon yet, though Rhydian recognized the anticipatory edge lining their bodies.
On the periphery of his focus, he saw the two wyverns stiffen. Though he heard nothing, sensed nothing, a thread of fear, of . . . wrongness, slithered through his chest. Tanuzet felt it too, for her wings stiffened and her spinal crest arched. At first, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He felt as though he’d been struck ill, though in a way, the sensation was surface-level. Diluted, somehow.
Shaking his head, he focused his attention on the dyads once more.
And froze.
The wyverns were tearing one another apart.