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)
“It’s how you save Tyrrendor.” Aaric’s voice drops to a whisper.
“By favoring Dunne?” I shake my head. “The time to weigh in on strategy was about five minutes ago. Go be with your year-mates.” I leave without waiting for his response and join my year-mates filing through the doorway.
“Orders?” Sawyer asks, cracking his knuckles.
“Fliers at the base…” Rhi blinks, then looks over us quickly as we walk into the blustery vestiges of the dying storm. The rain has eased, but what it lacks in intensity, it makes up for with ice-cold chill. The courtyard is teeming with dragons and gryphons. They wait on the walls, on the ground, and in the street beyond the gate. “No. Fliers on top of the wall for easier maneuverability,” Rhiannon orders with a nod. “We’re splitting strengths, so Sorrengail and I will hover at a hundred feet. Everything above that is ours. Henrick and Gamlyn will cover from the ground to our sector,” she shouts over the wind. “Most of us have family here, so fight like it.”
We all nod in agreement, then split to mount.
I pull my flight goggles down and find Tairn front and center. “You couldn’t wait off to the side like the others?”
“No.” He dips his shoulder and I mount quickly, my boots keeping their grip despite his rain-slick scales. “You must get faster at reacting to attacks like these.”
“I can’t tell leadership to make decisions faster.” I settle into the wet saddle, then buckle the water-laden strap with quickly cramping hands.
“Then perhaps we need to make our own decisions,” Tairn grumbles, then launches without preamble or warning.
I’m thrown back in the seat as he catapults upward at a vertical trajectory, so close to Riorson House that I cringe, expecting to hear claw collide with stone.
“I am not an amateur,” Tairn reminds me as we crest the top of the house, then bank hard right to join the others as they take to the skies. His little maneuver may have pushed my heart through my spine, but it gave Feirge, Aotrom, and Sliseag time and space to launch northward out of the courtyard.
I ignore the instinct begging me to look east to catch another glimpse of Xaden, or even Sgaeyl’s wings. My focus is needed here and now. Xaden is more than capable of taking care of himself…as long as he doesn’t channel magic that isn’t his.
The city rushes underneath us as we soar toward the north gate. Infantry races through the mage light–illuminated streets to their positions. Civilians scurry from house to house. Temple attendants dart into their sanctuaries—except those who serve Zihnal. They’re on the front steps of their shrine, drinking as we pass over. Only when I verify that Rhiannon’s family has light shining through their windows do I scan the cloudy skies ahead of the northern wall.
“Have to love fighting in the dark,” I mutter, dragging my sleeve over my flight goggles to clear them.
“I’ve heard you have quite the solution to that,” Tairn counters.
Good point. I retrieve the conduit from my left pocket, fasten the strap at my wrist, and palm the glass orb. Then I crack open my Archives door.
Tairn’s power rushes in, heating my skin and my rain-chilled hands.
Energy hums in my veins, condenses in my chest, and when it crackles into the conduit, I lift my right hand to the sky and wield, splaying my fingers wide as I push the power upward and it erupts through me.
Lightning streaks through the cloud overhead, branching out in dozens of directions and illuminating the field for the length of two heartbeats.
Pairs of gray-winged wyvern fly toward us on dozens of different flight paths from dozens of different altitudes, disappearing into the darkness as the light collapses and thunder booms. Brennan was right about the wyvern flying in small batches to test the wards. He just failed to anticipate that they’d do so in such a wide arc, and it’s going to cost us.
“They aren’t in formation like Basgiath,” I note to Tairn as we reach the northern gate and climb to hold a hover with Feirge. Steam rises from my skin, but I keep my Archives door open, allowing the power to gather within me so I don’t have to reach for it next time.
“Either they’ve traded the security of formation in hopes smaller pairings will get through,” Tairn muses, “or they know you’re here and formations make a bigger target.”
“That would require one of the dark wielders to have escaped Basgiath.” I glance downward and see Sliseag and Aotrom land at the gates, a row of gryphons manning the walls above them.
“It would,” Tairn agrees, then rumbles low in his chest. “The officers have made contact.”
Xaden. Worry fights like hell to worm its way into my chest. “You’ll tell me if something…”
“You’d know,” Tairn replies, then snakes his head right toward Feirge. “Your squad leader requests light.”