Day 92.
The Titan-Hawks landed on the secluded plateau of the "Spire of Wind," far away from the prying eyes of the fort or the trade roads.
Rian jumped off Storm-Wing. He looked at Lyra and the nine other young riders. They were wearing leather flight caps and grinning, still high on the adrenaline of the bombing run.
"That was amazing!" Lyra cheered. "Did you see them run? We are the Kings of the Sky!"
"Quiet," Rian's voice cut through their celebration like a whip.
The smiles vanished. The teenagers stood at attention.
"You are not Kings," Rian said coldly. "If the Empire finds out I have an Air Force, they will send Gryphon Riders. They will send Battle-Mages with lightning bolts. Do you think you can fight a War-Mage?"
Lyra looked down. "No, My Lord."
"We survived because they were just Orcs," Rian walked down the line. "From today, the bombing runs stop. The explosions are too loud. Too visible. They attract attention."
Rian looked at them with intensity.
"To the world, you do not exist. You are a myth. A ghost story. You are not 'Sky Riders'."
He pointed at the clouds.
"You are The Phantom Wing."
The Weapon of the Wind
Rian signaled to Varg, who brought out a bundle of weapons wrapped in cloth.
These were not the clumsy wooden longbows the serfs used.
Rian unwrapped one. It was short, curved, and looked strange. It was made of layers: Horn on the belly, Wood in the core, Sinew on the back.
The Composite Recurve Bow.
"Longbows are useless on a bird," Rian explained, tossing one to Lyra. "They are too big. The wind catches them. This... this is a Horse-Bow (Mongolian Style). It is short, heavy, and snaps faster than sound."
"Grom spent a week gluing these layers together," Rian warned. "Don't break them."
"We are to shoot from the air?" Lyra asked, testing the heavy draw weight. "But the wind... the movement..."
"Exactly," Rian nodded. "Physics."
The Calculus of Death
Day 95.
For the next three days, the Phantom Wing didn't fly over the city. They stayed in the mountains, drilling until their fingers bled.
Rian drew diagrams in the snow.
"If you are flying at 60 km/h, and the target is moving at 10 km/h, you don't aim at them. You aim where they will be."
He set up straw targets on the cliffs.
"Launch!"
Lyra dived. The wind roared in her ears.
She notched an arrow.
Normally, an archer stands still. But here, the "ground" was moving. Her hands shook.
She fired.
The arrow was swept away by the wind, missing the target by ten feet.
"Again!" Rian shouted from the ground. "You are fighting the wind. Become the wind!"
It was brutal training. Rian taught them the "Parthian Shot" (shooting backward while flying away) and the "Dive Shot" (using gravity to add speed to the arrow).
By the third day, Lyra understood.
She didn't aim with her eyes. She felt the drift of the hawk. She waited for the split second when the wings glided and the platform was stable.
Thwack.
Her arrow hit the target.
Then another rider hit. Then another.
They weren't just dropping rocks anymore. They were Snipers.
The Test of Secrecy
Day 98.
Rian gathered the Phantom Wing.
"A Merchant Caravan is passing through the valley tomorrow. They are being trailed by a small pack of 10 Goblin Raiders."
"Do we bomb them?" a young rider asked.
"No," Rian said sharply. "If you drop a bomb, the merchant will tell the world about 'Explosive Magic'. We need the merchant to think he was just... lucky."
"Kill the Goblins," Rian ordered. "But stay in the clouds. Do not be seen. Let the arrows fall like rain from nowhere. The merchant must think the Gods saved him, or that the Goblins just died of 'heart attacks'."
The Invisible Guardian
The Merchant, a fat man selling spices, was sweating. He whipped his horses. Behind him, the Goblins were gaining, their rusty daggers drawn.
"Help!" he screamed to the empty snow. "Someone help!"
High above, hidden in the white cloud layer, ten shadows glided silently.
Lyra signaled with her hand. No Screeching. No Dives.
They aligned their shots from high altitude.
Zip. Zip. Zip.
The sound was barely audible over the wind.
Below, the lead Goblin suddenly collapsed, a black arrow protruding from his skull.
The second Goblin fell, pinned to the ground through his neck.
The third. The fourth.
The Merchant looked back, terrified. The Goblins were just... falling down. Dead.
He looked around. He saw no archers. He saw no soldiers.
"The wind?" he stammered. "The spirits?"
High above, Lyra smiled and banked her hawk away.
The Goblins were dead. The Merchant was safe. And nobody knew The Phantom Wing existed.
Rian watched them return to the mountain base.
"Good," he whispered. "Let the rumors spread. Fear of the unknown is a better wall than concrete."
He turned back to his plans.
He had the Air (Secretly). He had the Army (Barbarians).
But now, the Spring Thaw was bringing a new problem. The river was rising fast.
The water that powered his machines was threatening to drown them.
"Nature demands a tax," Rian muttered, looking at the swelling riverbanks.
He didn't need ancient tech. He needed Civil Engineering.
End of Chapter 40