Chapter 7.1 - Through the Pass

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The central courtyards were as busy as they'd been on the day of the Trials, though the Aviary now buzzed with departures rather than arrivals. There weren't enough gryphon riders allotted by the Beryllian air fleet to keep up with the demand for transportation. They were needed elsewhere, defending the coasts from raids.

Many of the gryphons were close to being pushed past their limit, and it was all the riders could do to find respectful ways to tell pushy sorcerers to kindly swan dive off a cliff before they killed their animals. The riders were also close to their limit, manners and pleased smiles fracturing every so often whenever a pretentious noble with the smallest sliver of magical power stuck their nose in the air and dared to demand an escort to their destination. Some hardly waited for the riders to dismount after their return.

Other sorcerers, the handful powerful enough to have teleported to the academy, were still recovering from the effort of propelling themselves through the fabric of existence to teleport themselves back, and pleaded for riders to fly them across Ketsa.

Gale, Dain, and Wil watched from the back of the Aviary, beside the saddles and reins mounted upon pegs ready for use. They weren't in the way, but their presence garnered them irritation from the riders hurrying past. Gale fidgeted. There was nowhere to look when resentment and stress met them on all sides.

"You know," Dain muttered, "for how rare mages are becoming, we're still running the riders ragged. Why don't they just sail?"

The shorter boy replied. "Probably laziness."

"Well, I would gladly walk the ocean, for one." He looked at Gale. "How's this supposed to work, with your runelock like it is?"

She looked at her feet. "I have...other skills besides magic." Who am I kidding?

"Riiiight."

Wil said, "Maybe we won't need her to use magic."

"Maybe." He sounded dubious. "It can't be something too important, or dangerous, at least. Southern Sarcen is Hildor and Tolandy, and the only danger there is risk of execution for mages."

"I'd say execution is a pretty high indication of danger, Dain," he said mildly.

"What part of 'magic' are you not understanding? Avoiding execution is as simple as throwing some people around and making tracks."

"What would you do if all of Sarcen came hunting us for knocking heads?"

"The most important part of that sentence was the 'making tracks' part. Honestly, I don't see why you're so against using your power. It's a useful tool. Sure, it's dangerous, but so are knives."

"Show me a knife that can level a nation."

"Show me a knife in the heart of a ruler that hasn't."

"Not everything is meant to be solved through magic. Would you use a hammer to paint a portrait?"

Gale's quiet sigh went unnoticed as they stared at each other. She'd gone half a year only hearing a dozen words from Wil only to discover he and Dain bickered as much in private as Dain and June did in public.

Dain finally looked away and admitted, "Alright. But if the hammer was all you had to make that portrait, would you still cast it aside?"

Wil's humorless smile drew heat from his gaze. He also looked away. "No."

A strangely-dressed man entered the Aviary, looked around, and began heading their way. A blade-tipped staff was strapped to his back, its silvery edge glinting. Gale watched him pick a path toward them. She had the sudden feeling Reynard should have been more specific about the job's details.

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