Wingborn by Becca Lusher

lighting up her amber eyes. “ You both did well back there. I
don ’ t think you got
barked at once. ”
    “ Alright
for some.” A scrawny girl limped over, clutching her ribs.
“I never moved so much in me life, and all to get right back
where we started. Ain ’ t
what I was expecting. Ulla. ”
    “ Corin,”
the short girl replied, and pointed at the others. “Derrain.
Mhysra. I ’ ve seen
you around the docks. ”
    The scrawny girl nodded, scratching her
tight brown curls. “ Aye.
Me da ’ s a
gladhand. ” Which was
docker slang for men who turned their hand to anything to earn a
coin. She nodded at Corin. “ You ’ re
merchant stock. ” She
looked at Derrain. “ You ’ re
off the ships. ” Turning
to Mhysra, she narrowed her eyes. “ And you ’ re new. Don ’ t know what you do, but I seen you
about. ”
    “Impressing
people again, Ulla Bright-Eyes?” asked a tall boy with a broad
grin.
    “ Harlan,” the girl grumbled. “An’ Mouse. ” This was said to the small lad in
Harlan ’ s shadow. Whereas
one boy was tall and exuded confidence, the other was small and
fidgety. “Thought you said
you weren ’ t gonna
bother. ”
    “I needed to
do something over the winter.” Harlan shrugged. He looked too fine
for the Riders, with his artfully arranged curls and brightly
polished boots, now sadly splashed with mud and slush.
    While they waited for the rest of the new
students to finish, they got to know each other a little. Corin and
Harlan ’ s parents both
ran moderately successful skyships, Mouse was Harlan ’ s cousin, fresh from the
mid-Imercian countryside and Ulla had grown up on the docks. Being
his usual charming self, Derrain quickly fitted right in. He was
just explaining how he knew Mhysra, when their instructor clapped
his hands.
    “Who wants to go home now? ”
    Harlan looked at his mud-flecked boots and
sighed, making the others chuckle. There were a few discontented
mutters from the crowd, but no one left. The little man smiled, his
expression filling Mhysra with dread.
    “Good. I am Hethanon Armsmaster and your
mornings belong to me now. With me you run and sweat until you
break. Eventually I may let you touch a weapon. Because before you
go near a miryhl with a pointy object, you must prove that you can
use it without maiming yourself. Understood? ”
    There were a couple of mutters, a few
affirmative replies, but mostly subdued silence.
    “ So much
to learn,” Hethanon said pityingly. “ When I ask a question,
you reply. Understood? ”
    “Yes,” they
replied, mostly together.
    “ Something is missing, students,” Hethanon continued, voice
growing sterner with every word. “When I spe ak, you answer,
and when you do you call me sir . Understood? ”
    “Yes,
sir!”
    “Better,”
Hethanon said. “Now your instructors. Real Rift Riders whose time
could be better spent than on you. Do not waste it, do not test
their patience and do not forget that they are worthy of your
respect. Always.”
    “Yes,
sir!”
    “Sergeants
Honra and Rees,” Hethanon introduced them, pointing to each.
“Lieutenants Stirla and Lyrai. You address them as sir and obey at
the first time of asking. Understood?”
    “Yes,
sir!”
    “ Then
pay attention. You are too many, but that will change. For now I
will divide you up, and you will not
complain! ” His bark silenced the dissenters before they could
even begin. Mhysra shot Derrain a worried glance; she hoped she was
in his group.
    “ I will
point at you and say a name. That is your group. Go stand by them.”
Hethanon nodded at the Riders, who spread out. “My group wait in
the middle.” He started to point, barking Stirla, Honra, mine, Lyrai or Rees , making more than one student jump. His method
was swift and effective, splitting up any groups he spotted and
placing any potential troublemakers under his or Sergeant Rees’
command.
    “Stirla.” He
pointed at Derrain, who sighed with relief.
    “Honra.” He
pointed at