Page 141 of Black Wing and Shadows
“Anyone bound for the far north—Winterhand Stronghold or beyond?” he asked the Glonia group.
Four raised hands. “Rejoin the Veil group—you’ll travel with them.” Thora and Akira were two of those. They returned to us with two from Eagle Wing.
He ran the Glonia plans quickly—six to villages beyond the mountains. Several to Fort Nemlina in central Glonia, the third largest post on the continent. One to Hallowford, a large city south of the river on the mountainside. Hildegard shifted that cadet to our Veil group—it made more sense for the route.
Finally, our turn. Sixteen Riders and eleven Drusearons—including Zane—gathered at the front. The Veil of Vultures sprawled across most of Yebel’s north. Some of us would fly east, others west. Zane and I would go to Ashwynd, a large city north of Winterhand Stronghold on the far western side.
“This is the largest cohort—maybe I should have started with the Veil,” Hildegard said with a quick chuckle. “We’ve got four to Winterhand and one to Hallowford. Who else is headed west, toward Ashwynd?”
Remus, Oliver, Eli, Sadie, Landon, Nikolai, Arya, Zane, me, and four more raised hands together. A surprising concentration of leadership.
“Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, sixteen, eighteen—eighteen of you,” he counted. “That’s a lot of bodies in one path.”
“Staggered departures, like years past?” Nikolai Corson asked. As a fourth-year, he’d done this before.
“Yes,” Hildegard said, rubbing his jaw. “Normally, the week prior, everyone submits destinations and preferred companions. We pair groups of two to five with timed departures. Given the circumstances, we’re condensing on the fly.”
He pointed to the four going to Winterhand and the Hallowford Rider. “You five will fly together, stop in Hallowford, then the four continue on. Depart at zero-five-thirty. Winterhand’s air-patrol will extend almost to Hallowford. If you run into trouble, your fliers will call for assistance.”
He scanned the remaining thirteen of us. “Let’s do Mooring, Haladega, Corson, Devins, Bosmini, and Blackcreek.”
“Respectfully, sir, Blackcreek and I will remain together,” Zane said before Hildegard could name the second group.
Hildegard narrowed his eyes, forehead creasing.
“You can switch me with Mooring,” Zane continued, “which keeps the same balance—four Riders and two Drusearons. And one group doesn’t need three Wing Commanders. Too many cooks in the kitchen.”
“Reason?” Hildegard asked, still glaring at him like he was a thorn in his side.
“She’s my partner, and we’re going to the same location. If you have further questions, direct them to General Blackcreek.” Zane’s tone carried so much authority it made my heart skip. He met Hildegard’s stare head-on, daring him to push back.
“Alright. Then we’ll do Braegon, Haladega, Corson, Devins, Bosmini, and Blackcreek. Haladega and Corson will be in charge as Wing Commanders.”
He went on to explain that the remaining seven would form the second group. Ours would depart at zero-five-forty-five, theirs at zero-six-hundred. We were to follow the river north to the town of Blackmere and rest there. Once the second group arrived, we would continue east.
There was a vale between Winterhand Stronghold and Ashwynd where our fliers would stay when not in use. We were discouraged from flying beyond transit, though.
Esme grumbled down the bond,“Pshhh. We’ll be exploring.”
I smiled faintly.
Hildegard assured us patrol coverage would be strong in the region. He also gave return plans, since many of us were expected back early. We'd fly home in slightly different groups.
One cadet voiced what I was wondering. “Why not put us in the groups we’ll be returning with?”
“That’s a fair question,” Hildegard said. “Among you, thirteen, there are four Wing Commanders—two Riders, two Drusearons. Then, there is an Executive Officer, three Platoon Leaders, and one first-Flight Guide. That makes nine returning early. Which leaves four first-year Riders. If we grouped strictly by return schedule, those four would fly there alone. I’d rather their first real journey home include experienced leaders.”
It made sense. None of us wanted new Riders flying solo if it could be helped. There would be plenty of cadets already traveling alone.
Our group was dismissed, leaving the last cohort to go over their plans. My stomach rumbled. Food and sleep—those were the only things I wanted before tomorrow’slong flight.
Zane walked behind me, his hand light at the small of my back. The gentle touch grounded me. I hadn’t realized how tense I was until I finally exhaled. He rubbed up and down my spine, sensing it. Gods, he was the best.
***
Dining Hall Two was already full when we slipped inside, noise rattling the rafters. With most of the campus emptied, Riders claimed the space like wolves with a carcass—loud, restless, ravenous.
Trays clattered. Voices overlapped. Laughter rang sharp, more relief than joy. Training was done. Saddles fitted. Departure close. Feather Wing grabbed a table at the center. Micah piled his tray so high it hid his face—until Lorenzo “accidentally” jostled his elbow and half of it toppled.
