Amyu stood there, dumbfounded. Sword in one hand, the ring on the other, feeling the fool.

She cleared her throat, and called again. “Let the protectors of Xy arise to my call!”

Nothing.

She blinked. Then she cursed. She cursed the mountain, cursed the sword, the ring, the city-dwellers, the entire idea that she could find the airions.

Then she stood in the silence. She consciously slowed her breathing, letting her anger fade, and considered.

The ritual had worked, the sword was whole again. She could wield magic, that she had proven. She took a breath, letting that confidence flow back into her.

But Kalisa had talked of her bloodlines, like the bloodlines of a Tribe. Even the Warprize was of the Blood of Xy. Maybe one had to be of the Tribe of Xy to summon airions.

Her shoulders sagged. She let the blade fall, catching it with the open palm of her ringed hand. At least she had this much that she could take back—

The blade hit her palm, and the back of the ring.

The entire cave rang with the sound. Like the wardrums of a Warlord, it shook Amyu’s body to the bone.

Amyu lifted the sword, and turned her hand, to see the blue stone of the ring glowing.

Giddy joy passed over her as the vibrations faded from the cave.

“There have been no changes in the rallying cry,” Kendrick started to thumb through the book, looking for something. “But there have been variations in the gestures over time.”

Variations. Changes.

She faced the wall again, grinning like the fool she wasn’t. She held the sword before her, point up. “Let the protectors of Xy arise to my call.” She cried out, and then struck the sword with the stone of the ring.

The tunnel rang, trembling with a subtle roaring sound. The wall before her turned blue, glowing with the sword and the ring, and then it faded. As the rumbling passed, Amyu could see light at the end of the tunnel, white and clear.

Something moved, blocking the light. Something big, something charging her way—

Amyu threw herself to the side as she heard claws scrabble on stone. She pressed herself tight to the wall, hardly daring to breathe.

The creature stopped at the ledge, turning its head to look at her. The horse body was there, the head more horse than eagle, but with a sharp hooked beak. No grass eater, this. All four legs ended in talons. Golden colored, with black eyes that seemed to take her all in with one glance. The warmth of its body swept over her, along with the familiar smell of horse. The hair was the same on its body, but the mane, the tail were made of bright gold feathers, and the wings—

To her utter delight, it half-spread its wings, screeching like a hawk as it shook itself out. Feathers and horse hairs went flying. Amyu laughed, and sheathed the sword. “You are a beauty,” she crooned as she rose, hoping against hope, stretching out her hand to touch the withers.

The airion extended its neck, huffing at her hair, taking in her scent. It reared, trilled an odd sound, turned back to the open space and folded its wings in. As if waiting.

Amyu held her breath. It couldn’t want her to mount.

The airion turned its head and stared at her.

She took a step, then another, and without daring to think it through she buried her hand deep in its mane. An impulse of sheer joyous madness made her mount. Her legs were in front of the wings, and she settled back, as if born to—

With a deep cry, the airion surged up, and out, its wings snapping open as they left the cave.

Amyu cried out, in joy and terror, her stomach somewhere behind her. The air rushed passed, the ground spiraled below.

She was flying!

She gripped the mane tighter with both hands, and tucked her feet in, as if it were a horse she could guide. The wind streamed her hair behind her and stung her eyes. She blinked against the tears, still laughing. Triumph trembled through every muscle in her body.

With powerful down strokes, the airion rose over the tree tops, creeing its joy. It climbed, spiraling up, riding the air as easily as a horse rode the earth.

More trills from behind, and the sound of wings, and more airions filled the skies around them, dancing in the air.

Amyu laughed, amazed and delighted.

She was flying!

She could see the entire valley below her, and the city walls, and hear the distant alarm bells.

Oh, skies above. The wyvern alarm bells.

Amyu leaned in, suddenly anxious that they not fly any closer to the walls. “Down,” she said, not sure if she’d be understood.

The airion did, it seemed. It clucked with seeming regret, tucked its wings in, and… fell.

Amyu shrieked, and lost her grasp on the mane. The airion’s body was slipping out from under her. Her stomach gave a huge lurch. She’d fall and—

The wings snapped out and the airion slowed. The hesitation was enough for Amyu to regain her seat and her grip. Her heart racing, Amyu remembered the saddles in the cave, with the buckles and harness for the rider.

Sheer instinct gave her power. “Aid me,” she cried out, and the magic responded as if a saddle. Golden light wrapped around her waist securing her to her mount.

The airion creed, pulled in its wings and once again they plunged to earth, down toward the field where the cows were starting to run, mooing their distress. Amyu gulped against the feeling of having no weight, but then the wings spread again, and she grunted as the creature slowed.

Light as a feather, the airion settled down to the earth. Amyu released the golden straps, and dismounted, falling to her knees. The world spun as she laughed and emptied her stomach. She’d found them. Against all odds, she’d found—

“Amyu?” a voice called.

She was on her feet in a moment, her blades out. She stared at the group of people coming toward her. “Cadr?”

“What are these?” one of them asked, pointing.

Amyu turned to see her airion, the golden one, leap for a cow, and bring it down with a bite through its spine. The herd was setting up a ruckus, scattering into the woods as shadows passed over the field. She looked up to see more airions in the sky above her, circling. All different colors, their wings spread, their cries filling the air.

“Airions,” she laughed, sheathing her weapons. She wiped her face, the taste of vomit and success in her mouth. “They’re airions.”

 

 

Quick introductions were made, with quick explanations as they watched the airions devour the dead cow.

“Look at those claws,” the man named Rhys said. Amyu knew he was not of the Plains, but little else.

“Talons,” another corrected him. Sidian. Older, and the bushiest eyebrows to rival Enright’s. He wore the ritual scarring of a full warrior-priest. They all bore some partial tattoos of warrior-priests, except Rhys, Gilla, and Cadr.

The other airions had joined the golden one at tearing at the carcass. Amyu wasn’t going to get close to them while they were feeding. But she and the others looked their fill, and it was glorious. She was still lightheaded, from the discovery and the flight.

She had flown. Amyu’s smile was so wide her face hurt.

“Can anyone ride them?” Lightning Strike asked.

“I don’t know,” Amyu continued to stare as she described her first flight and the drop. They all nodded at the description of the saddle.

“Makes sense,” Cadr said. “What if you were injured in mid-air?”

“We’ve so much to learn,” Amyu said. Then she frowned, something other than flying invading her thoughts. “Where did you come from?” she asked. “Did you meet the Warlord coming from the Plains?”

“Well,” Lightning Strike shrugged. “We didn’t exactly walk.”

Amyu opened her mouth to demand more, but the alarm horns were sounding from the walls again. “They think it’s a threat,” she frowned. “We need to get word to them.”

Sidian shook his head. “You need to go tell them.” He said with a grin. “Might warn them about us, too.”

“I’ll take a horse,” she started but just then the golden airion danced over, its wings half-spread, clacking its beak and tossing its head.

“Oh, lass,” Sidian laughed. “How can you resist making an entrance like that?”

 

 

Amyu kept her mount clear of any crossbow shot, flying high over the city, heading to the castle. The air grew colder the higher they went, and it felt like she was losing her breath, but better that than a bolt to the chest.

She circled the highest tower, seeing Enright ringing his alarm bell, until she saw Heath and Atira burst through the trap door, swords at the ready. She warbled then, using the calls of the Plains, calling ‘friend’ and ‘scout reporting’.

Atira sheathed her weapons, but it took sometime before the others lowered their crossbows.

She urged the airion down then and it obeyed, its wings beating as it landed, raising a cloud of dust.

Amyu released her magic, and dismounted with much more grace than before. She couldn’t help grinning at the looks on their faces while they were all staring at the golden creature beside her.

Who promptly nudged her shoulder and creed. She reached up, and scratched under its mane.

All eyes shifted to her, then, and she tried for a more dignified look. “Heath, Warden of Xy,” she started formally, but then her joy was too much for her. “I found them!”

Other people flooded the area, Warren, Wilsa, and more guards. They all froze and approached cautiously.

“You did,” Heath laughed with her. “How did you—”

Amyu pulled the sword from her back. “Warden,” she said solemnly. “The Crystal Sword of Xy is whole again.”

That brought a gasp from everyone, at the sight of the sword in her hands. It glittered blue in the sunlight, and the stone of the ring flashed as well. Amyu noticed that Enright was using his white cloth to wipe his eyes.

“The protectors of Xy have arisen,” Amyu said as she gave the Sword and Ring back to Heath.

“Them?” Heath exclaimed. “There’s more?”

“Yes,” Amyu said. “Of various colors, including black. They are with the others. We didn’t want them flying off toward the walls, for fear they would be harmed.”

“Is it tame?” Atira asked, eyeing the sharp beak and talons.

“So far,” Amyu said. “But we have much to learn. The others are willing,” she grinned again, remembering the look of horror on some faces. “Well, some are.”

“Others?” Heath asked.

Amyu took a deep breath. “The warrior-priests-in-training,” she said.

Atira and Wilsa stiffened.

Amyu continued, “The ones that Joden spoke of. They heard me call to the airions and used their powers to travel here. They will aid me, if you allow it.”

“Warrior-priests,” Atira’s voice was flat and angry.

Amyu stared her down. “Yes. They seek their place, as I seek mine. As a barren woman of the Plains. As a child who disobeyed her elders. As a magic-wielder. As one who has given her oath to the Warlord and Warprize.”

Atira dropped her eyes, glanced at Heath, and then nodded. “Truth,” she acknowledged. “But they have not yet given their oaths.”

“We will come to you,” Heath said. “We will talk, and see what comes of that. What needs do you have?”

Amyu mounted the airion, and called her magic to form the straps. “We are in the fields outside of Kalisa’s cheese cave,” she said. “We need the saddles within, and new ones made,” she frowned again. “And more cows. I do not wish to wipe out their herd.”

“If they eat cows,” Heath laughed. “Then more cows you shall have. We will come as quickly as we can, Amyu of the Skies.”

Amyu jerked her head around to look at Heath. He bowed his head as a warrior bows to another. Her gaze traveled over all of them, and they all bowed their heads to her.

Emotion welled up in her chest. Pride, joy and something she dared call happiness.

Amyu blinked rapidly against her tears and urged her mount with her knees. The great creature creed and sprang up and off the tower, its wings spread as it dipped then rose gloriously into the sky.

Her heart was full. And maybe, just maybe, some of the cracks within were healing. But the largest crack? The largest flaw?

Joden was not here to see. To know. To share.

If she wept as she flew, only the skies were witness.