-TWO
aster. I have to run faster. Fear holds my throat shut as a tidal wave of
death chases me across the sunburned field to where Tairn waits, his
back turned.
Wind roars around me, stealing every other sound, even my own
heartbeat. Tairn’s going to die, and he doesn’t even see it coming for him.
Gold flickers near the tip of his wing.
Gods, no. Andarna. She’s here. She shouldn’t be here.
The wave nips at my heels, transforming the ground beneath my feet
into an ashen, desiccated wasteland.
“There is nowhere to run, rider.” A hooded figure steps into my path out
of nowhere, raising one arm.
I’m yanked off my feet by an unseen force and lifted into the air,
completely immobilized. The wave of death halts and the wind falls silent,
as if he’s stopped time.
He shifts his staff to the other hand, then pulls back the thick maroon
hood of his floor-length robes with gnarled fingers, revealing the white of
his scalp under his slicked-back, thinning hair. Shadows mark the gaunt
hollows of his cheekbones on an eerily youthful face, and his lips are
cracked and dry, just like the land behind me, but it’s his red-rimmed eyes,
the distended veins spiderwebbing across his temples and cheeks, that have
me fighting to open my mouth, straining to scream.
“A
Venin.
“So disappointing,” he lectures, as if he’s my Sage and not the teacher of
the dark wielder I killed on Tairn’s back. “All of that power at your
fingertips, and yet you insist on fleeing over and over, using the same failed
tactics, and expecting what?” He tilts his head to the side. “To escape?”
My ribs tighten around my lungs as terror takes hold, and I force a
garbled sound through my throat, but it does nothing to warn Tairn and
Andarna.
“There is no escaping me, rider,” he whispers, his fingers ghosting over
my cheek but not quite touching. “Fight me and die, or join me and live
beyond the ages, but you will never escape me, not when I’ve waited
centuries for someone with your power.”
“Fuck you.” It comes out as a whisper, but I mean it with every bone in
my body.
“Death it is.” He looks so…disappointed as he lowers his hand.
Wind howls as I fall to the ground. A scream tears through my body as a
wave of agony rolls over my skin and bones, leaching the very essence of
my energy until—
I wake, my heart pounding, my skin clammy, my fingers wrapped
around my black-hilted dagger.
Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.
re you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask Xaden on
Saturday as he leads me down the stairs from my dorm room.
“To Basgiath’s forge,” he says as we emerge from the academic wing
into the empty courtyard. It’s finally the time of year when the temperature
outside matches inside. Autumn is settling in.
My chest tightens as I realize he’s taking me to see where they steal the
weapons—and what that means. He’s letting me in.
“Thank you for trusting me.” The words don’t do the feeling justice.
“You’re welcome.” He looks down at me, his expression shifting. “Will I
earn a little trust back now?”
I nod, tearing my gaze away from his before I do something reckless like
let those three little words he wants spill out just because we’re having a
moment. But I can share with him a secret of mine as well. “I found a text
that said the First Six didn’t just establish the wards but personally carved
the first wardstone.”
“We knew that.”
“Partially.” We cross down to the tunnels to the flight field, and I nod at
one of our first-years. Channing? Chapman? Charan? Shit, it’s something
like that. I’ll learn it in a couple of weeks—after Threshing. “The text said
first wardstone,
which means if they carved the one here, there’s a good chance they
carved the one in Aretia. I’m on the right track.”
“Good point.” He jerks open the door to the tunnels, and I walk inside.
“I know what I need to look for, but I’m not sure where it would even
exist.”
“Which is?” He asks as we move toward the stairs.
My pulse is thrumming with excitement to finally see the forge, get a
look at the luminary that the revolution needs so badly, too.
“I need a firsthand account from one of the six. My father talked about
seeing one once, so I know they exist. Question is if they’ve been translated
and redacted into uselessness.” We turn into the staircase and both stop
abruptly.
Major Varrish blocks our path. “Ah, nice to see you, Lieutenant
Riorson.” His smile is just as greasy as ever.
Fear squeezes my heart. Xaden is carrying enough contraband to see him
executed two dozen times.
“Wish I could say the same,” Xaden retorts.
“Found her!” Varrish calls up the stairs. “Shouldn’t you be headed over
to the main campus, Riorson? Surely that’s where officers lodge when
visiting.” His gaze flicks my way.
It takes all my willpower not to retreat.
“There you are, Cadet Sorrengail.” Professor Grady offers me a genuine
smile as he descends, his arm linked through Ridoc’s, whose hands are
behind his back.
Ridoc shoots me a warning look, and dread settles heavily in my chest.
No. Not today. We’re being taken.
“Turns out, you’re quite hard to catch by surprise,” Professor Grady
says, a note of admiration in his voice. “Your door doesn’t allow anyone
entrance.” He glances at Xaden, his focus shifting to the exposed swirls of
his rebellion relic just under his jaw. “I’m guessing she has you to thank for
that, since second-years can’t ward. Makes nabbing her for interrogation
training a little difficult.”
“I’m not going to apologize.” Xaden’s eyebrows lower as Varrish’s
riders— the ones who usually dump my belongings on the flight field—
both turn the corner above Professor Grady. One escorts Rhiannon, and the
other, Sawyer. Both of them have their hands bound behind their backs.
Looks like our squad is next for interrogation…and I almost just saw the
mother of all secrets around here. I force myself to breathe, fighting to keep
the nausea at bay.
“She’s on leave.” Xaden sweeps me to the side, putting me behind his
back. “And recovering from an injury.” Shadows race from the edges of the
stairwell, rising to form a waist-high wall. “He’ll use this opportunity to kill
you for the embarrassment Tairn put him and Solas through.”
“You can’t possibly know that.”
“His intentions are pretty fucking clear. Trust me.”
“No, you’re on leave,” Varrish says, delight sparkling in his eyes. “Cadet
Sorrengail is headed out for training.” He jabs his finger at the wall of
shadow and winces. “Well, that’s fascinating. No wonder you’re so coveted.
The pair of you really are quite something.”
“You can’t protect me from this any more than you could Threshing,” I
tell Xaden, stepping out from the shelter of his body. “You know it’s true.”
“You weren’t mine at Threshing,” he counters.
“I’m not yours now,” I remind him. “I’ll be fine,” I say out loud. “Drop
the barrier.”
“Do listen to your little girlfriend,” Varrish suggests. “I’d hate to report
that you disobeyed a direct order, or worse—cancel her leave for next
weekend. There’s really nothing you can do here.”
Oh, fuck. That is not the way to deal with Xaden. Ordering him around
only makes him push that much harder. And separating Tairn and Sgaeyl for
two weeks is more than they can take.
“I’m not in your chain of command, therefore I’m under no obligation to
follow your fucking orders, and there is always something I can do. She’s in
no condition to be tortured, and if her fucking wingleader isn’t here to
advocate for her, then I will.”
“Sgaeyl!” I reach out through the one pathway I avoid at almost every
cost. “They’re going to cancel next week’s leave if he doesn’t relent.”
“How hurt are you?” Grady asks, concern on his face.
“Dislocated my shoulder last week,” I answer.
“I chose him for his inability to relent,” Sgaeyl reminds me.
“Not helpful at the moment. Do I need to remind you of what he’s
carrying?”
“Fine. But only so this conversation ends.”
“Her wingleader is otherwise engaged,” Varrish says to Xaden. “And
feel free to continue to argue with me. You’re right. You’re not under my
chain of command, but as I had to remind her dragon, she is. Or did you not
hear about her disciplinary session? I’d hate for her to have to repeat it
simply for you to learn your lesson, Lieutenant. Then again, you could
always join us.”
Xaden smiles, but it’s not the kind that warms my heart. It’s the one that
chills every cell in my body to ice, the cruel, menacing curve I first saw on
the dais when he was my wingleader. “One day, Major Varrish, you and I
are going to have words.” He drops the shadow barrier and lifts a brow at
me. “You went to Sgaeyl?”
“I make no apologies for saving your ass from your own stubbornness.”
I put out my good hand, and Grady steps forward, binding it mercifully to
the one protruding from the sling. At least he didn’t wrench my hurt
shoulder behind my back, but damn, the rope is tight. “There’s a book on
my desk that needs to be returned to the Archives.”
Anger burns in the depths of his gold-flecked onyx eyes. “I’ll see that
it’s done.”
“See you next week,” I whisper. “Tell her page three hundred and four
mentions a text I’d like to read next.”
“Next week,” he responds with a nod, his fists clenched as Varrish walks
by with the others in my squad. “Violence, remember it’s only the body
that’s fragile. You are unbreakable.”
“Unbreakable,” I repeat to myself as Professor Grady leads me away.
The things that happen behind closed doors in the Riders Quadrant in
order to turn young cadets into full-fledged riders are enough to turn
even the staunchest of stomachs. Those prone to queasiness should not
pry.
—MAJOR AFENDRA’S GUIDE TO THE RIDERS QUADRANT (UNAUTHORIZED
EDITION)
T
