Chapter 20 - The Flight

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Y E A R   3 0 0 7,   T H E   S E C O N D   A G E

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Y E A R   3 0 0 7,   T H E   S E C O N D   A G E

Three years after a Karanor traded her crown for a needle

"Marc! Give me back my sword!" Liliana yelled, doubling over in a pant. Stupid, bothersome scamp of a boy. Were they friends? She wasn't sure. He had always been there for her...

There to be irritating, anyway.

"It's called a waster," the young, red-haired boy replied, eyeing her dolefully. "They'll never graduate you if you don't know the names of things." Marc twirled the battered wooden sword before him, and Liliana rolled my eyes in exasperation.

"Marc, quick please give it back before Master Adeniyi sees us," she pleaded, taking a step forward.

The portly cadet laughed and flipped the waster around so that it rested on his right shoulder. "C'mon, Lili. Lighten up. We're in independent study right now. Y'know— the thing that Lady Diana made up after we showed her up that one time."

"Shut up!" she hissed. "What if she hears you? I don't want to be thrown out."

Marc tossed the waster toward her; Liliana caught it only seconds before it clattered to the floor. "You're— you're impossible," she fussed at him, clutching the waster tightly. "One day you'll get us both expelled, and then we'll have to become farmers on the frontier."

Marc's face spread into a boyish grin. "But we'd still have each other," he laughed. "Admit it, Liliana; it would be fun on the road— just the two of us, saving Aérlas from the Fallen Ones one troop at a time."

Liliana glared at the ruddy cadet. "We would starve. You can't even hunt well, not to mention protect us from the Darkness."

Marc huffed something she couldn't pick out and puffed out his chest, "I'm not scared of no Darkness. We're followers of Elindir... and wingmen," he added, brandishing an imaginary saber before him, stabbing it forward a few times at equally imaginary foes.

"And wingwomen," Liliana corrected. "Besides, we're cadets, not warriors, Marc. And just because we follow Elindir doesn't make it okay to do stupid, feckless things," she told him sternly, trying to, at the same time, decide which of us was taller. Can I see over his head or is he slouching?

"Feckless? What sort of word is that, Lili?" he asked earnestly, putting his hands on his hips, "You read too much."

"You don't read enough," she retorted. Do boots effect height?

"We should do something," Marc said with a sigh. He leaned back against the white-stoned wall of the hallway and stared out an almost conveniently placed window.

Well now I really can't tell...

"Why don't we go look around Lady Diana's room? It's supposed to be yours anyway," he said as though he were asking for more beans at lunch.

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