Page 36 of Feathers of Ash and Hope

“I don’t like it when … people take unnecessary risks,” he mutters.

“You’re worried about him?”

“Not for safety reasons. I meant what I said yesterday,” he says. “But … he just seems too … young to be here,” Cassius says,and I nod in understanding. But this dispute could bite us in the ass later and cause serious trouble.

“That’s all?” I ask.

He nods.

“Fine then. But if I have the feeling this causes trouble, I will reassign Summer to Flavius’s squadron. Do you understand?”

Cassius nods, his face grim.

“That won’t be necessary, Centurion.”

It’s nearly noonthe following day when everything goes to shit. It starts when squadron four reports a runner missing. He was the last on guard duty and can’t be found when it’s time for shift change.

I don’t know him well enough to know how serious he would have been about his job. They are still recruits after all. Maybe he just wandered off or even decided that the skyriders weren’t for him. If someone considered deserting, now would be their best chance. Still, the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach stays.

Jared is looking for him with Zephyr because there is also the possibility that an animal attacked him. We didn’t hear any commotion, but the mountains are home to a variety of wild animals—some magical, some not—and it wouldn’t be the first time one attacked a lone person.

A few others are out gathering firewood and some roots and herbs to complement the game that is up for lunch, while a runner from squadron four volunteers to cook.

“We’re under attack.”

Daeva’s warning and her screech reach me at the same time, only seconds before the first attacker breaks through the wood around us. The heavy forest around us served them well and hid them from our birds’ eyes.

Still, there is no mist and no bridgepoint close enough to surprise us that close to the Aerie without a patrol spotting them first. They must have used a portal.

All of our attackers are fair-skinned, their armor dark and mismatched, missing any signs of recognition, and apart from the sound of their bodies breaking through bushes, their attack is silent. It reminds me of another place, another attack in the woods.

The memories are so real that for a second, I hear the shouts of “Protect the heir” reverberate across the clearing.I shake my head to clear it.

Memories, nothing but memories. I blink, and slowly, the images playing in front of my eyes fade.

“We’re under attack,” I shout, repeating Daeva’s words, then rush to intercept the closest attacker, who moves toward the runner standing next to the pot with water hanging over the flames. The runner only has the knife he used to prepare the food to defend himself, and he will be at a serious disadvantage against the sword his opponent swings.

He proves my assumption wrong by grabbing the pot and dosing his attacker with boiling water, splashing the fire in the process. When he follows through with his knife, I realize he doesn’t need me.

I don’t have time to look for who else might need help because two attackers are zeroing in on me. Okay, now there are three. This is one of the moments I’m happy I’m fighting with two short swords and that I have magic to wield as well.

Air gathers under my command, protecting my back, no more visible than a ripple in the air, but it will prevent anyone from stabbing me from behind.

One of the attackers makes a guttural sound that I take for a curse when he realizes that his blade is deflected by my shield without doing harm. The distinct sound of steel against steel rings over the clearing.

Worrying about Jared and how our recruits are holding up lets me slip into Daeva’s view for a second. She is right, though, with her complaints earlier. The visibility is shit from up here. Dark shapes flash between the foliage, often too short to make out friend or foe, and the missing overview makes it impossible to get a count on the attackers or a take on the situation.

“I will come down.”Daeva sounds determined.

“You will do no such thing,”I disagree. An arrow slides off the air protecting me.“Someone is shooting, too. You stay up there as long as I’m not in danger.”

“Three against one sounds dangerous to me,”she snaps but obeys. I bury my blade in the throat of the one to my right.

“Only two now,”I correct her.

“I can see that for myself,”she grumbles, using my eyes to keep track of the situation down here.

The third attacker takes the place of his fallen companion. He is abnormally fast. Maybe he has magic enhancing his speed. Fighting fair is for tournaments or sparring, so I simply cut off his air supply. He chokes, then stumbles. His fingers claw at his throat, but he won’t find anything tangible there.

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