Page 49 of On Wings of Blood

As I walked out of the cloisters, the courtyard stretched wide, surrounded by towering stone walls covered in creeping vines just beginning to blaze red and gold. Trees lining the sides of the courtyard were lit up in autumn splendor. Fiery red and orange leaves carpeted the stone beneath my feet, crunching as I walked.

But it was what lay in the center of the courtyard that took my breath away.

A massive ring of stone dragons loomed over the gathering crowd like ancient watchers. Each one was at least two stories tall. Their rough, weathered scales caught the warm amber light of the late afternoon sun overhead. Shadows spilled from the immense forms, casting eerie shapes that danced over the faces of the assembled students.

There were four in total, arranged in a perfect circle, their enormous wings unfurled so that the tips of each wing overlapped seamlessly with that of its neighbors.

Each dragon was a different color. One black. One gold. One ivory. And one red.

The black dragon was carved from a deep basalt. Its stone surface was a dark, glossy black that absorbed the light. Its eyes were deep-set and narrow, with an almost menacing intensity. The dragon’s jaws had been carved slightly open, revealing serrated teeth that looked sharp enough to cut.

The gold dragon had been shaped from a lustrous warm marble. Golden veins ran through it, making it shine and glimmer in the light. The dragon’s face was regal and commanding. Its nostrils were delicately flared, its mouth curved into a slight, knowing smirk.

The white dragon was sculpted from alabaster. Its smooth, creamy white surface lent it a soft, ethereal quality. The white dragon’s face bore a tranquil expression. I had an impression of quiet strength and serene beauty.

The red dragon was on the farthest side of the court. Carved from red sandstone, it had the roughest, most unpolished look of the four. The red dragon’s eyes were narrow and sharp. Its nostrils flared aggressively. I swallowed as I looked into its ancient carved face, so full of passion and fire and rage.

A hand touched my shoulder and I jumped.

“Medra, what happened to you?”

I turned to see Florence and Naveen. They were staring at me in shocked horror.

I looked down at myself, remembering. My body might have been rapidly healing but my clothes were still in a sorry state, coated with dirt and blood.

I flushed self-consciously. “Uh, combat class.” I looked around, then leaned in. “I had to see a healer,” I admitted, my voice low.

Florence put a hand to her mouth. “So that’s why you missed the library session.”

I nodded, suddenly tired. “Please tell your mother how sorry I am. Maybe I can catch up another time?”

Florence pushed her spectacles up her nose and nodded. “I’ll show you everything you need to know on our day off. Don’t worry about it for now.”

Naveen was still staring at my clothing. “Who did that to you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said, trying to be nonchalant. “You should see the other girl.”

“She?” Florence’s eyes were wide.

I nodded. “Visha Vaidya.”

Naveen and Florence exchanged glances.

“But you were at her table this morning,” Florence said slowly. “I thought...”

“I thought so, too,” I said hollowly. “I don’t think anything was what I thought.”

Naveen shook his head sympathetically. “At least the day is almost over. Come stand with us? I think the headmaster is about to begin.”

I followed them over to an empty spot on the grass.

A podium had been set up on a platform in between the gold and white dragons and a man was stepping up to it.

I had already heard his name mentioned once before. Headmaster Kim.

I wondered what sort of a man he was. Powerful, I assumed, if he had been appointed headmaster of the top school in the kingdom.

The headmaster wore dark robes of a rich and heavy fabric, embossed in red with the Bloodwing school insignia. His features were formidable and commanding, with a high, broad forehead and deep-set, dark and narrow eyes that moved amongst the crowd, piercing through us one after another.

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