Page 63 of On Wings of Blood

“I am,” he agreed. “I’m ready to move. I’m tired of sitting on a bench all day scribbling on parchment.” He feigned a few jabs and I laughed. “I’m not like Florence. She loves keeping her nose in a book. I’m actually surprised she doesn’t want to become a librarian like her mother. I’m sure Bloodwing would love to have her.”

“That’s a good point,” I said, surprised I hadn’t thought of it. “It would be a safer position, too, right? Librarians aren’t really ever in danger.”

Naveen gave a little shrug. “I mean, within the school library I’ve heard it can be cutthroat. Some of the librarians are vampires. But they usually aren’t from very powerful houses. Still, that just means they’re competitive when it comes to keeping the little power they do have. I’ve heard Professor Shen say the library is not for the faint of heart.”

I snorted. “That’s kind of funny. I’ve always thought of libraries as rather dull places. Peaceful and quiet, if anything.”

“They sure seem that way,” Naveen agreed. “Oh, look. The door’s opening.”

Sure enough, the classroom door now stood ajar and students were lining up and making their way inside.

We followed the others into a large open room. It resembled the courtyard we used in Advanced Weaponry in many ways, except this one was fully indoors with a stone ceiling.

“I've heard our instructor is a dwarf,” Naveen told me, his voice low. “We can tolerate sunlight and we can build up an even greater tolerance, but it’s more comfortable for us inside. Especially when you’re, uh...” He broke off nervously.

“Yes, Mr. Sharma? Was there something you cared to share with the rest of the class?” a dry, female voice said from behind us.

I whirled around to see a short, sturdy-looking dwarven woman.

Our newest instructor had an impressively muscular build, with broad shoulders and thick forearms. Her gray hair was streaked with a few strands of dark brown and pulled into a ponytail. Her eyes were a striking shade of dark blue. A deep scar ran across her left eyebrow. She wore faded studded leather armor that had seen better days. It was clear she preferred functionality over appearance.

“Professor Stonefist,” Naveen said, his voice weak. “I didn’t see you there.”

“No, you didn’t, Sharma. And that could get you killed.” The professor’s voice was brusque.

I hid a smile. This woman was obviously the no-nonsense type. She reminded me of Odessa already.

The professor raised her voice so the entire class could hear her. “I’m Magda Stonefist and I’ll be your instructor. You’re here because you’re a future scout or because you need to fulfill the basic combat class requirement. You’re also here because you’re mortal. You’re blightborn. In other words, you’re weak.”

The class broke out in a stir of mutters.

“Well?” Magda demanded. “Aren’t you?” She pointed to the hallway. “That’s whattheythink you are. But weak doesn’t mean useless. Weak doesn’t mean expendable. That’s what you can prove in this classroom. That’s what you’ll have to prove to me.”

She scanned the room. “This class could just as easily have been called Basic Survival for Blightborn. Because ultimately, survival is what I'll be teaching you. Sangratha has been at peace for the last five years. If you can call it that.” She muttered the last part under her breath so only Naveen and I heard it. “But times can change. Times can change fast.”

I glanced at Naveen and he gave me a quick shrug, as if to say he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Don’t consider this class optional. Don’t consider it theoretical. This class could save your life.” Professor Stonefist glanced at Naveen. Then her eyes swept over the rest of the group, pausing on the few dwarven students in our midst.

“Some of you have natural advantages,” she acknowledged. “Dwarves were built for close-quarters combat. We have high endurance. I’ll teach you dwarven students how to use that. The rest of you will learn how to fight smart. You’re not here to learn how to look pretty with a sword. In fact, for many of you, a sword in your hand is the last thing you’ll need. We’ll use smaller weapons. Clubs, daggers, crossbows. We’ll focus on swift, efficient strikes. Evasion will be our watchword. But sometimes a face-to-face fight can’t be avoided. Hand to hand combat is dirty, messy, but sometimes it can be your only chance against someone stronger and better trained. You’ll learn how to make the most of what little time you have to react. In future terms, we’ll focus more on learning the art of stealth.”

She started pacing back and forth. “Scouts have one of the most dangerous roles in a unit. They go ahead of their squad, into enemy territory, and often return with nothing but their lives. Some don’t return at all. In the last civil war, between the four great houses...”

I turned to Naveen, my eyes wide. “War?” I mouthed.

“I'll tell you later,” he mouthed back. Then he seemed to think better of it. “Ask Florence,” he mouthed.

I tried to tune back into what Professor Stonefist was saying.

“If you’re chosen to be a scout, your job isn’t to fight. It’s to move unseen, to gather information, and to survive long enough to report back with it. That means learning how to use your environment, how to disappear into the shadows, and how to remain silent even when it seems like everything around you is trying to find you.”

Magda paused, her expression growing more serious. “Some of you may know I wasn't always an instructor at Bloodwing. Decades ago–yes, decades,” she said drily, as some chatter went up from the class. “Vampires aren't the only long-lived race in Sangratha, as you should be aware. Decades ago, I was a scout in the last civil war between the great houses.”

She looked over the class, her eyes dark with a faint challenge. “Some of you may have heard of me. They called me Grimblade.”

Beside me Naveen gasped. A few other students in the courtyard did, too, clearly recognizing the name.

“But I thought...” Naveen stopped, his face reddening.

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