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)
“As you can see,” Devera says, quieting the room, “there is a defined, supported assault happening along the wards, centered at the Samara outpost. We believe it’s simply because it’s the straightest path that leads to here—the hatching grounds.”
I lift my eyebrows. It’s not like her to give us the answers.
“Our knowledge of the venin up until this point has been somewhat…impeded,” Devera admits.
“That is an understatement,” Ridoc mumbles under his breath.
“And I’m sure some of you have been frustrated at the lack of instruction for the last couple of weeks. If you reach beneath your seats, you’ll discover why we’ve been waiting.”
I bend at the waist like every other cadet, finding a thick, canvas-bound book under my chair and retrieving it. I blink through the head rush as I sit up too quickly, then glance at the plain spine before flipping to the table of contents. “Captain Lera Dorrell’s Guide to Vanquishing the Venin,” I read. “Venin, A Compendium, and…more. Look, they made us a little anthology.”
“You’ve already read them all, haven’t you?” Rhi asks, thumbing through her copy.
“All but the last. Dark Wielders and Dark Times. Tecarus sent them to me in Aretia.”
“My cousin Drake wrote the compendium.” Cat preens.
“Yes, we get it, Cat. You’re better.” Ridoc glances at Rhi. “We need a copy for Sawyer.”
Rhi nods. “We can’t let him fall too behind or he’ll struggle to get caught up when he decides to return.”
“Haven’t seen too many one-legged riders around here.” Cat slips her anthology under her notebook. “Or…any. Maybe you should ask him what he wants before making assumptions.”
She has a point, so I don’t snap at her for the first comment.
“The cadets in the Scribe Quadrant have worked tirelessly over the last couple of weeks, printing enough copies for you each to have one.” Devera sits back against the table. “Nothing in this book is new to the fliers, of course, so I expect you all to pass the first test of your new history class with flying colors.” She gestures to Kiandra. “This particular course will be taught by Professor Kiandra and, for the sake of speed and convenience, will take place in this room on Tuesdays and Thursdays. As our runes expert has declined to come to us, you will also be rotating in two-week cycles to Aretia for rune intensives. Check with your section leaders for the new schedule regarding sharing the flight field and your rune dates.”
A class-wide grumble fills the room, even from the third-years behind us. I glance over my shoulder and note Dain in the top row. He’s been gone so often I haven’t had a chance to ask him about helping me get to Dad’s research.
“Don’t complain,” Devera warns, lifting her finger. “We’re only adding three classes to the schedule, all of which will save your lives.”
“Three more classes?” Ridoc moans, and the sentiment is echoed around the room. “On top of quest squad research?” He glances my way. “I’m only halfway through the first Deverelli text as it is.”
A smile pulls at my mouth that he’s jumped in with both feet, regardless of knowing there’s absolutely no chance of him going.
“I mean it. Whiners don’t wear black,” Professor Devera snaps. “Read the book and live. Don’t and die.” She sighs, then squares her shoulders and looks around the room. “I do, however, regret to inform you that a crucial piece of information surfaced during printing and therefore is not included. It has now been confirmed by three different sources that high-level venin—we believe Sage and Maven—can and do wield signets.”
Silence falls thicker than the snow outside, every cadet besides those of us who already knew freezing completely. It took them ten days to confirm?
“I know,” Devera says with uncharacteristic gentleness. “It’s a shock. I’ll give you a second to sit with it.”
I spot more than one head dropping in the rows ahead of us, like we’ve just been handed our defeat. I can’t blame them; most of us have only been taught to battle fliers with lesser magics.
“And that’s all the time you get.” Devera stands. “Welcome to the new face of battle, where we are not only outnumbered in the sky but now equally matched on the field in terms of the skill of our opponents. You can and should expect to face a dark wielder with the same abilities as your friends, your squadmates”—she glances my way—“and yourselves.”
Another murmur rises, and Professor Devera silences it by raising her hand.
“With that in mind, the nature of challenges will change under the supervision of Professor Emetterio to include wielding in order to better prepare you for actual combat.” Her voice rises above the growing number of worried conversations. “But death is no longer an acceptable outcome when you face your classmates. The days of settling your scores on the mat are over. We need each and every one of you to survive to graduation.”