Cymru - Chapter 1

AERONA

Aerona held up the sprigs of berries again for the children to see. Ten faces in front of her stared openly back, displaying various stages of smug comprehension and vacant bewilderment. One boy even had his mouth hanging open: Aerona was trying very hard not to laugh at him.

“Now, remembering what I just told you: which of these berries is safe to eat?”

A smug boy at the front shot his hand into the air and waved it about enthusiastically, as though he somehow thought that maybe he was partially invisible and needed to attract as much attention as he could.

“Maybe someone other than Morgan?” Aerona asked. Morgan withdrew his hand, looking slightly smug despite his disappointment. A girl behind him tentatively raised her own.

“Bronwen?” Aerona asked hopefully.

“The one on the right, because it do have no waxy leaves and it do have no milky sap and I ate them before and I was fine.”

Aerona fought her automatic instinct to Give The Cute Child A Hug.

“Good girl! Yes, that’s right. This is Rowan, children, quite a common tree. Don’t worry about the berries being slightly orange, that’s their natural colour when ripe. They don’t go red.” Aerona brandished the other sprig. “And these? Who knows what these are?”

Morgan’s hand narrowly avoided knocking Bronwen out. Everyone else watched silently.

“Yes, Morgan?”

“Laurel! They’re poisonous, they are.”

“Quite right, Morgan. How can you tell?”

Unexpectedly, Siona put up her hand. Aerona picked her.

“Because the leaves are waxy,” Siona said quietly. Aerona smiled. Siona beamed.

“Absolutely! Well done everyone. Now, for your homework this week, I want you all to bring me some berries that are safe to eat. And you will be eating them, so get it right.”

The Training School bell sounded melodically outside the room, and the children leaped to their feet and positively fled the room. Aerona was packing away, and so it was only when she turned to leave that she realised Siona was still standing there, twisting her hands nervously like she did when she wanted to ask a question, but didn’t yet have the courage.

“Hello Siona,” Aerona said warmly. “Did you want to ask something?”

“When do we learn to ride?” Siona asked quietly without preamble.

Ah. The time-old question that they all asked and never listened to the answer until it became, “Now.”

Aerona smiled. “You’re already learning, my lovely,” she said gently. “But you need to be fully competent on a normal horse before you can learn to fly.”

“I want to ride now,” Siona said plaintively. Six-year-olds never listened.

“Well,” said Aerona, “You can speed up the process. If you work extra hard in your riding lessons and get very good, you may well be fast-tracked. But even if you don’t: as long as you work hard at all your lessons, you will definitely fly someday.”

Siona nodded, and wandered off vaguely. Aerona grinned. Any money said that child was just going to ask her next Tutor the same question. Six-year-olds were so cute.

She was passing the yard and heading back up to the Wing Quarters when she heard the slight commotion. The children outside were running towards the Outer Wall, staring and pointing through the huge archways up to the Landing Tower far above. Aerona paused, squinting up the same way into the dark.

The tiny figure of a Rider swept in, landing out of sight on the runway. Aerona thought fast. Night-time was an unusual time for a Rider to make a journey; the merod’s wing feathers drew energy from trapped sunlight, so night flying was generally slower and harder on the animal. The only reason Aerona could think of, in fact…

Was if someone had an urgent message that had to arrive before someone else.

She cursed under her breath and ran up the stairs as fast as she could, taking most two at a time. That wasn’t good. Aerona had spent the last three months largely praying that Lady Gwenda’s increasingly covert behaviour was actually perfectly innocently explainable if only Aerona would stop being such a drama queen and acting like they were all part of some big detective novel. Unfortunately, it was all getting increasingly hard to dismiss.

The Archwiliad was in two weeks. The first of the Northlander Wings was arriving late tomorrow to start the standard political reviews before the Sovereigns went to vote. Seeing a single Southlander Rider before any of the Northlanders could get there suggested something Aerona didn’t like.

She cannoned onto the top landing just as the doors to the Landing Tower were opened by a pair of formally dressed guards. Their very presence wasn’t a good sign. Unless there was a political point to be made, Riders opened the damned doors themselves. Aerona recognised Brandon the stable hand as he walked through, followed by the Southlander.

She was young and looked slightly travel-worn, her flying leathers creased and the wax cracking slightly. Her expression showed pleasant interest as she looked around at the corridor streets of Tregwylan, apparently a first-time visitor. Her stride was easy and long, seemingly at perfect ease with her surroundings. Aerona watched as she pulled off her head gear, holding it easily as she walked.

Long hair swung down past her shoulders, tied in the intricate plaiting favoured by most Riders. Aerona looked at the beads securing the front braids. They were intricate amber-and-silver creations, red, orange and yellow with spiral wires for decoration, marking her as a Bardic Rider. Aerona narrowed her eyes slightly, staring at the wires.

The spirals were anti-clockwise. Aerona stepped smartly around the corner into the Rider’s path, fastening on her brightest be-friendly-to-strangers smile. As she did so, she allowed the beads on her own plaits to show. It would be the only action necessary.

“Hello!” she said brightly. “I’m Aerona. Welcome to Tregwylan!”

The Southlanders eyes flickered almost imperceptibly to the beads as Aerona threw out a Rider Salute, the standard sign of friendship offered between Riders. Aerona grinned, and the Southlander grinned and Saluted back.

“Awen,” she said, her eyes twinkling, and Aerona fought the urge to giggle. Like all Rider’s she’d been trained since birth; but there was always something childishly exhilarating about meeting a fellow Intelligencer when no one else knew the class existed. Awen looked to be having the same thought as she hurriedly gestured around them, breaking eye contact.

“This city is beautiful,” she said approvingly. “I’ve only ever been to the Archipelago once or twice before, and never Tregwylan.”

“Ah,” Aerona said. “You say that, but you’re looking at the top level where everything’s pretty because the rich people live here. Off the record. Do you want a tour?”

“I’d love one!” Awen said merrily, as Aerona had known she would. Brandon started to stammer, so she cut him off kindly.

“It’s alright, Brandon,” Aerona said. “I’ll show her her quarters and get her to wherever she needs to be. Go back to the stables.”

Brandon left, looking relieved, and Aerona gestured along the street.

“Shall we walk, Rider?” she asked playfully.

“I believe we shall, Rider,” Awen returned in the same tone; and they proceeded down the street pretending they were from the fourth century.

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Huzzah, decent names for flying horses. After much consultation with Iceduck we've come up with a 'meraden' as a singular and 'merod' as the plural. It sounds better, it looks better and is actually cleverer.