Good.
“They’re preparing for the battle Melgren foresaw,” a rider from Third Wing calls out.
At least the Assembly isn’t keeping Melgren’s request a secret—just how they individually voted in regard to taking action on it.
“Agreed,” Devera says, nodding in his direction. “It’s hard to get an accurate count, but we estimate upward of five hundred wyvern.” She glances at Brennan and, when he doesn’t speak, continues. “And there are dark wielders among them.”
A litany of swear words is mumbled throughout the theater.
“And why is it we’re not engaging?” someone from First Wing asks.
“Because we’re spiteful,” Quinn says from behind me.
“What was that, cadet?” Devera calls her out.
Quinn shifts in her seat, but when I glance back, her head is held high. “I said because we’re spiteful,” she repeats, louder this time.
“Nailed it,” Rhi says under her breath.
Brennan clears his throat. “We’re not engaging because the Assembly voted and decided that the casualty rate among riders and fliers would be far too great. A battle this size could annihilate our forces, leaving the rest of the Continent undefended.”
I shake my head at just how familiar that reasoning sounds.
“Some of us have family in Navarre,” Avalynn says, a row in front of me with the other first-years in our squad. “Are we supposed to just sit back and wait to hear if they die?”
“They should have left,” a rider retorts from somewhere in the vicinity of Second Wing.
“Not everyone has the means to pick up their entire lives and move just because a war is coming, you elitist prick,” Avalynn counters, her voice rising.
She has a point, and the mutters of agreement throughout the wings rise in volume and pitch.
“This is not what Battle Brief is for!” Devera shouts.
We quiet down, but the energy has shifted, and it’s not in a positive direction.
“Let’s spin this another way,” Brennan says. “If you were Melgren, what would you be doing right now?”
“Shitting myself,” Ridoc answers.
Brennan rubs the bridge of his nose. “Other than that?”
“Bolstering the wards,” Rhiannon offers. “As long as they remain at full power, this is all just bluster on the part of the enemy.”
“Excellent point, Cadet Matthias.” Brennan nods.
“So he has to choose between arming his forces or keeping the power supply concentrated in the armory?” That question comes out of First Wing.
“Another excellent point,” Brennan agrees. “What’s the problem with arming the forces?”
“Spreading out the daggers lessens the efficacy as a power supply for the wards,” Rhiannon replies. “Even if the energy isn’t actively being spent killing dark wielders, the wards are still weaker.”
“Right.” Brennan looks straight at me. “And what would you choose to do, Cadet Sorrengail?”
“Besides actually fight to defend innocent civilians?” The words are out of my mouth before I can think twice about calling my brother out in public.
“If you were Melgren.” His head tilts, and from that look, I know I’m going to get the mother of all lectures after this.
I study the map for a heartbeat. “I’d have pulled every dagger from the coastal outposts to reinforce and boost the power supplies at the border outposts. They’re powerless once they cross the wards. Wyvern die. Venin can’t channel. That leaves them with hand-to-hand combat—”
“Or artillery,” Cat adds.
“Exactly.” I glance at her and nod. “As long as the Navarrian forces can physically repel the dark wielders and keep them from scattering the power supply in the armory, then there’s no real danger of incursion.”
“And that’s exactly my point.”
“But Melgren saw them being defeated,” a flier from Second Wing says.
“Let’s run with that thought.” Devera gestures at the map. “Should the wards at Samara fall, what would happen?”
“They’d have a direct line to the hatching ground,” someone answers.
“No,” I reply. “That portion of the wards would fall back to its natural distance, about a three- or four-hour flight from Basgiath, just like ours. The power supplies in the outposts extend the wards, they don’t create them, so while a large piece of Navarre would be unprotected—” Blinking, my gaze finds my brother’s.
He nods.
Melgren was bluffing, banking on us not fully understanding how the wards work. He used a scare tactic to get us to agree to fight.
“Did you want to finish that thought, cadet?” Devara asks.
