Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
My stomach churns as I look to Rhi. “Tairn and I can make that flight faster than half an hour if we break from the squad.”
“It’s not like we haven’t seen battle,” Cat adds. “We fought our way out of Cliffsbane.”
Rhi stiffens. “Aetos invoked Article Eight, so we’re legally clear, but there are so many unknowns,” she whispers to herself. “Number of venin? Wyvern? But the civilians…”
“Look, it’s only a fight if we make it one.” Ridoc glances at the fliers. “Narrow the scope of the mission. We extract Maren’s family. We save as many civilians as we can. We get out.”
“Without knowing what we’re up against, we can’t just—” Rhi starts.
“We defended Basgiath,” Cat snaps.
Rhi’s mouth snaps shut.
If it were Mira and Brennan in danger, I’d go, especially with that nightmare so fresh in my mind, but there’s a reason I’m not the squad leader and Rhi is. “Vote,” I suggest. “I get it—ordering us into a war zone could be catastrophic and we’re just cadets, so vote. That’s what we did at Resson.”
None of us mention that Liam and Soleil didn’t come home.
Rhi nods. “All in favor—” Every hand goes up, including hers. She sighs. “Well, Degrensi did tell us to make ourselves useful. Let’s go be of use.”
Weather is the one great equalizer in battle, equally detrimental or favorable to both sides given the conditions. Without our wielders swaying that element to our advantage, we are at its mercy.
—Tactics, a Modern Guide to Aerial Combat by Major Constance Cara
CHAPTER TEN
Forty minutes later, the sun disappears as Tairn and I drop between the snow-tipped ridgelines, descending thousands of feet into the warmer valley that houses the Stonewater River. The sun always sets so early this time of year. Power hums in my veins, ebbing and flowing with every heartbeat. I’d almost forgotten how wild magic feels beyond the wards, how accessible. Tairn’s power seems endless, deeper than the oceans I’ve never crossed, wider than the vast sky above us.
“Maise saw us depart,” Tairn warns, tucking his wings. My stomach rises as he plummets, following the terrain at a nauseating speed. “She’s relaying an order to return immediately.”
“Can you ignore her?” We’re easily five minutes ahead of the other dragons and ten ahead of the gryphons, who travel with Andarna despite my pleas for her to stay behind.
“I do not answer to Maise.” He levels out over the river, a notable tailwind helping to maintain his speed. His wings beat so close to the rapids that I half expect to feel the splash of water as we curve around the bend. In a few months, this river will be the most treacherous on the Continent with spring runoff, adding to the region’s already unpredictable weather compliments of the abrupt change in altitude.
Smoke rises in thick plumes ahead of us, joining the storm clouds while simultaneously smothering the village beneath. My heart jolts with a rush of adrenaline and dread. “Ahead.”
“Yes, I, too, have eyes. We’re five minutes out.” He tips right to fit through a bottleneck in the water-carved canyon, and my weight shifts, the belt of my saddle keeping me in place.
Once we’re through, I rip off my gloves, shove them into my right front pocket, then scan both sides of the raging river for signs of life. “I need you to slow down. I can’t tell if those are people or trees.”
“You ask for speed and then complain when I provide it.” But he slows as the landscape shifts into the high plains.
“This is the only logical path they’d take to—” I spot a line of civilians hiking toward us on the southern bank of the river. “There!”
“I have relayed to Feirge. The gryphons and Andarna will stop there first as planned,” Tairn tells me, then picks up speed again. “One minute. Prepare yourself. The pressure is dropping. We fly toward a storm.”
Sure enough, my ears pop as I shove my wrist through the leather strap that will keep the conduit secure. Quickly, I unbutton my flight hood, letting the warmer wind rip it from my face for the sake of visibility as we fly toward the smoke-and-flame-engulfed village. Civilians flee from a gate in the western wall, and the acrid scent of smoke fills my lungs, growing more pungent with each beat of Tairn’s wings.
A shape breaks through the pillar of smoke—
“Wyvern!” I grasp the conduit in my left hand, then throw open the door to Tairn’s power, increasing the flow from a trickle to a rush. It envelops me, fire streaking through my veins, embers burning in my bones as the conduit glows, siphoning off the excess.
“Do not channel more than you wield!” Tairn warns as the wyvern flies straight for us, its gray, leathery wings riddled with holes.
“I’m fine.” If I miss the first time, those fetid teeth will be in reach of Tairn. I force myself upright against the wind, my core tightening to keep me steady as I lift my right hand, then take aim and release the power with a snap.