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)
“The cliff blocked the wind for them, as it did us.” Feirge steps away from the safety of the base and pivots sharply to face the winding valley that leads to Draithus.
“Tell the others to form a line. If we can fly now, so can they.” A horde of gray had just rounded the last curve of the valley when the windstorm hit, driving the wyvern to land.
According to Cath, every dragon was forced to hunker down in Draithus, too.
“Done,” Feirge responds, and rain splashes at the base of her neck.
Great. Rain is the last thing anyone on this damned cliff needs.
I remind myself of what Raegan always says—Zihnal gives what he sees fit. No use thanking the god for one blessing and cursing him in the next breath. I’d like to see her say it under these circumstances, but she’d probably pull it off. She’s always been the more graceful twin.
Tara, on the other hand, would tell me to make my own luck.
I check right, making sure the others weren’t harmed in the freak windstorm. Maren and Cat fall into line, and neither they nor their gryphons look worse for wear. Beyond them, Sliseag swings his tail, keeping his wings tucked for proximity, and Sawyer nods my way. Then I look left and find Neve and Bragen both in position, with Aotrom shifting his weight impatiently.
Ridoc stares at the northern peak, not the path through the valley just south of it, like he could see straight through the thing if he tried hard enough.
Part of me screams that we should be on the other side of that peak, but we have our orders. And half a squad.
I clear my throat and my feelings. This isn’t the Squad Battle. I make a mistake here, and innocent people die. We lucked out when the wyvern that crashed through the holes I left in our defenses only took out the wall and not my parents’ house. No matter how much Violet means to me, she’s one life. We’re guarding thousands who are fleeing as my family had, and we owe them the same protection.
“Gamlyn!” I shout across the gryphons. “I need your focus here.”
He looks like he might give me the finger for a second, but nods.
“Acknowledging your fear for the lightning wielder does not compromise you.” Feirge calls me out just like always. “Ignoring it does. Accept the emotion and move on.”
My grip tightens on the raised ridges of green scales that form the pommel. “Of course I’m worried about Violet.” She’s out there in the one condition I never want any of us—alone. Tairn flew into the cloud cover moments before the windstorm hit, carrying Teine in chains and escorted by Marbh, and the last status report from Cath had both Riorson and Durran spotted near the city walls. At least I haven’t seen any lightning. “But we have a job to—”
A dozen wyvern—maybe more—rise along the valley floor a few hundred yards out. My heart begins pounding. “Ask Veirt how many Baylor can see.”
Screams sound in a chorus from the evacuees, both those waiting to climb and the ones already on the cliff. Rain. Wyvern. Panicked civilians. The situation has real shitshow potential. Gods, the first-years better be pulling the civilians to safety at the top of the pass as instructed. Graycastle and Mairi are already on my lecture list. Fuck knows what either of those two were thinking.
Undisciplined. I need to rein everyone in with a quickness.
“Baylor sees seventeen,” Feirge responds a second later.
Seventeen. Against three dragons and four gryphons. Shit. “That’s a little menacing,” I admit to Feirge.
“Then let us be menaces,” Feirge snarls, her head weaving in anticipation. “Ready to relay your orders.”
My orders. No pressure. We need to intercept.
“Riot, launch in a thorn formation,” I tell her. I learned my lesson in Aretia—we have to engage far from the cliff. “Drift, guard the evacuees under Bragen’s command.”
Feirge takes three steps, and I tighten my thighs to hold my seat as she launches into the cloud-soaked sky. “Kiralair is disgruntled with the decision.”
What else is new? I debate the choice for all the time it takes to blink. “Tell Kira they have better maneuverability against the cliff than we do and a full arsenal of runes. We can’t stop seventeen wyvern with three dragons. They need to be ready.” Just once, I’d like to give an order that Cat doesn’t feel the need to fight.
I settle my flight goggles over my eyes as we fly headfirst toward the wyvern, Feirge, Aotrom, and Sliseag forming three points of a triangle. We need to engage as far from the cliff as possible. Plenty of room to move forward, not a lot of room to retreat against sheer rock.
The enemy are roughly arranged in three columns, two deep.
“Continue thorn—” Wait. “No, vertical. Switch to vertical formation.” It will give us the best shot at taking down as many as possible.