CHAPTER 5 - MEDRA

"That boy." Regan took a sip from the mug she'd just filled. "He'll be the death of Blake with all of his ridiculous antics. I think I'll carry this as we walk. Very carefully, of course." She laughed as if she'd said something funny and I forced a smile, trying not to think about vampires and blood.

We went slowly down the corridor, with Regan taking careful sips from her drink.

She seemed preoccupied.

That was all right with me as my mind was busy considering all that I'd learned.

Blake was still an ass. But Theo could grow on me. Coregon was a neutral. He seemed to be trying to give me a fair chance, which was more than I could say for Visha or Quinn.

Quinn was a bitch, but maybe we'd warm up to each other eventually. Visha had left too quickly for me to get much of a read on her.

Were these people really my future friends? The students I'd be spending the most time with?

I glanced at Regan. Her silver hair swayed gently as she walked. She'd called us practically sisters. Was that what we were going to be?

I'd never had a sister. I was an only child.

Having a sister might have been nice. But I wasn't sure I wanted one who was also a vampire.

I gave myself a little shake. It didn't matter. Because these people weren't my family and I couldn't start thinking of them that way even for a second. I couldn't let my guard down, no matter how nice they were to me.

They used people. They fed from them. I wasn't quite sure how the enthrallment process worked but it sure didn't sound as if it was voluntary. It might have been a superior alternative to death, but it was still essentially... well, slavery. Wasn't it?

The halls around us were quiet. I checked my timepiece. Nine-fifteen. We still had plenty of time.

"So," I said, tentatively. "History of Sangratha, right?"

Regan looked over at me and smiled encouragingly. "That's right. It's just around this corner."

I couldn't help feeling a little relieved to hear that. This might have been a vampire school but I still didn't want to be late. What would Florence say, after all?

I expected to see students lined up in the hallway but when we turned the corner and Regan led me over to a wooden door, there was no one outside.

"Well, you'd better go inside. Everyone is probably in there already, choosing their desks," Regan said, brightly. "Unless you want me to stay with you? I don't have class until ten this morning."

"No, that's all right," I said, hurriedly. "I'll be fine."

She smiled reassuringly at me and then, to my shock, leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek.

"You'll do great. Don't forget what I said. Ask Professor Rodriguez about dragon healers when you get to Restoration. I won't be around to take you to that class, but you should be able to find your own way. Ask one of the other First Years to help you. If they're clueless, find a warden or a Second Year. I'll see you at lunch, okay?"

I nodded. "Thanks for all of your help, Regan."

Her expression softened. "Like I said, consorts have to help one another. See you later... Sister."

I watched her walk away. I wasn't quite ready to call her sister yet, but I could admit I might have been wrong in my initial judgment. She'd obviously been having a bad day yesterday. But she'd been protecting Blake. Doing what she'd been trained to do.

She was willing to give me a chance when it came down to it. I had to be grateful for that.

I pushed the door open to History of Sangratha, expecting to hear a familiar buzz of noise like there'd been in the First Year common room.

But to my surprise, the room was silent. You could have heard a quill drop.

My breath caught as I scanned the room, taking in the dozen or more rows of students, each one already seated and scribbling notes on parchment. There must have been at least a hundred students or more in the class.

As I pulled the door shut behind me, the scribbling stopped and every pair of eyes fixed on me where I stood, hesitating, just inside the doorway.

I suppressed a groan. This was getting to be a habit.

Tiers of polished wood desks and seats curved around the lecture hall. In the center of the room, a woman stood behind an oak lectern on a raised platform, her hands resting on its edge. Her skin was a deep brown hue that contrasted sharply with the white streaks running through her long, dark hair, which had been pulled back into a severe bun.

The professor's lips were pressed into a thin line. A muscle in her jaw twitched as she stepped out from behind her lectern. She leaned against a carved, wooden cane, walking with a heavy limp. The cane tapped rhythmically against the stone floor as she came to the edge of the lecture stage.

"Miss Pendragon, I presume," she said coldly. "How nice of you to finally join us." She pointed up at the clock that hung on the wall behind the row of blackboards. "Only twenty minutes late."

Neat and precisely handwritten notes were already up on one of the boards. Those must have been what the students had been hard at work copying. At the top I caught sight of the professor's name, underlined for emphasis: Professor Amina Hassan.

I swallowed hard. "I beg your pardon, Professor Hassan. My timetable said class didn't begin until nine-thirty. I thought I was early."

My mind jumped to Regan. I wondered if I'd inadvertently made her late for her own class. Had she mixed up her timetable, too? If so, hopefully her professor would be less strict than mine was.

"There's no excuse for a lack of punctuality," the professor said, smacking the floor with her cane loudly. "Perhaps you believe that because you are allied with House Drakharrow, you do not have to respect the rules of this institution. Or your blightborn instructors."

I gaped. "I'm mortal, too, you know."

She sneered. "Yes. Of rider's blood. How very special."

My face flushed. "I didn't ask to be here."

Instantly I knew it had been the wrong thing to say.

The professor's eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't be here at all, Miss Pendragon. You haven't earned your place like they have." She indicated the many students sitting in the rows of seats, all watching us with fascination.

I noticed Florence in the second row. She had scooted over and was not-so-subtly patting the seat beside her.

I looked around the room slowly. "Half of these students are vampires, aren't they? Did they earn their place or are they just here because of their family ties? And of the mortal students, how many of them wanted to be here and how many of them were brought forcibly?"

If one could have heard a pin drop when I walked in, now the silence was truly oppressive.

I saw many of the vampire students snarling silently in my direction and tried not to flinch as rows of sharp teeth came into view.

The silence went on for so long that I thought the professor was about to ask me to leave. Or perhaps she was thinking of the best way to punish me.

Finally, Professor Hassan spoke. "What a fascinating point, Miss Pendragon. But the way in which Bloodwing students are selected is a topic we will not be taking up in this class. However, you are always welcome to meet with Headmaster Kim to discuss your concerns. Now, if you have quite finished disrupting this class, please take your seat."

I hurried over to Florence's row and sat down next to her. Guiltily, I eyed her quill and parchment. I hadn't even thought to bring my own. Regan hadn't mentioned school supplies to me.

Even though I was probably humiliating her just by my presence, Florence kindly slid a piece of parchment and extra quill over to me with a quick smile.

I tried to smile back, but the truth was, I was rattled. My first class wasn't off to a great start.

Professor Hassan had resumed her place at the lectern. "Miss Pendragon is evidently well-informed about many aspects of Sangrathan history and culture, despite her claim to being only a recent arrival in our land. Let's test her knowledge, shall we?"

Laughter broke out around me.

"For someone who has been so elevated by one of our esteemed houses, Miss Pendragon appears to show considerable disdain for those of the Pure Blood," Professor Hassan continued. "But I'm sure she'd be happy to answer some basic questions." She strode over to the blackboard and raised her hand as if poised to write. "Miss Pendragon, please tell the class why vampires drink blood."

"Why do vampires drink blood? I..." I stuttered. I'd wondered the same thing that morning but still wasn't sure I had a grasp on the answer. "To survive," I settled on.

Professor Hassan's hand dropped. "To survive? What an imprecise response. I require food to survive, water to live. But what do those substances do for me exactly?"

When I said nothing, she sniffed.

Beside me, Florence's hand shot into the air.

"Yes, Miss Shen?"

"Blood does help vampires to survive as Medra... I mean, Miss Pendragon... already mentioned. But more specifically, it enables them to recharge their unique abilities."

"Good, Miss Shen. And what are some of those abilities?"

"Oh, there are ever so many," Florence gushed. "They heal faster than us blightborn do and they can recover from much more serious wounds. They have heightened senses, including sight, smell, and hearing. They can move much more quickly. Their speed has even been mistaken for invisibility or flight. Vampires can go days without taking a blood meal, but doing so grants them superior strength, helps maintain their healing, and supplements their other powers."

"Other powers such as?" Professor Hassan prompted. "Someone other than Miss Shen, perhaps?"

A boy sitting further down the row on Florence's side put his hand up then nervously started to lower it.

"Yes, Mister...?" Professor Hassan said. "Do you have an answer for us?"

The young man licked his lips. He was brown-haired with a short, stocky build and seemed tense with nervous energy. His wide, expressive eyes darted about the classroom.

"Sharma, Professor. Naveen Sharma. Well..." He ran his hands through his already-messy hair, as if trying to buy time. But this only resulted in his hair standing up in every direction making him resemble a spiky hedgehog. Behind him, I heard some students snickering.

"Perhaps you'd like to stand up, Mr. Sharma," the professor suggested, sounding impatient. "It might help you to focus better."

Naveen jumped up, scattering his parchment and quill onto the floor. "Um, of course. Well, everyone knows that vampires can create thralls."

"Then that hardly bears stating, does it, Mr. Sharma?" Professor Hassan said drolly.

Naveen colored. "Uh, right. Well, each of the four houses also have their own special abilities. Though some of these require years of training before they can be fully utilized. One thing they all share though is the ability to sense emotions through blood. When a vampire is fully mature, they can manipulate others' feelings in this way."

Naveen sank back down suddenly as if he'd run out of steam.

"Thank you, Mr. Sharma." Professor Hassan looked around the room. "And of course, this is why it is so essential for the houses to keep their bloodlines pure." Her eyes found mine. "So that these extraordinary powers are not diluted. Except when necessary, in very rare cases."

My blood flared hot. She meant me. Well, Professor Hassan didn't have to worry. I wasn't going to dilute the blood of her precious vampire overlords.

Though her pronouncement did make me wonder just how often blightborns bred with vampires. Obviously it was unusual.

"This is why," the professor continued. "Service to a highblood is an honor, not a sacrifice. As is the tithing system as well as conscription."

My hand shot up. "Wait," I said, not waiting to be called on. "You're saying mortals should be glad to give up their blood but not only do they have to do that but they have to pay the vampires to live here? And accept military conscription?"

The room broke out into an angry chatter.

"Quiet down," Professor Hassan said loudly. "Settle down."

"I don't understand... They're using you but you speak of them as if they're gods or something," I said in disbelief. "What is wrong with you people?"

The room quieted around us as Professor Hassan and I stared at one another.

"Well, class, I'd say Miss Pendragon has truly proven her ignorance this morning, wouldn't you?" the professor finally said.

Laughter erupted around me, harsh and bitter. But I caught some students staring at me curiously, too. I wondered how many blightborn students were in this class and how many of them had thought similar things from time to time without ever daring to say it aloud.

I snuck a peek down my row. Florence wasn't laughing, neither was Naveen. But their faces were quiet and respectful. It was obvious they didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with this formidable teacher.

"Look up at the board, Miss Pendragon," the professor commanded. "Tell me what you see."

I glanced at the blackboard, at the notes the students had been copying down when I'd first walked in.

"The Great Famine," I read aloud. "The Blight of Shadows. The Dragon Cataclysm."

"Very good. Terrifying-sounding terms, wouldn't you agree? Have you ever lived through a famine, Miss Pendragon?"

I shook my head slowly.

"Neither have I. Neither has anyone in this class. Thanks to the highbloods," Professor Hassan said. "Yet our histories tell us that thousands of years ago, the worst famine the world had ever seen swept through the land, causing starvation and despair. Families abandoned children to die, unable to provide for them. Still other families resorted to eating their own children."

I shuddered.

"Then, one exceptionally powerful woman stepped forward. Some say she was a human. Others say a vampire. Still many more say she was not of this world at all but a goddess or the daughter of a god who had lived among us in mortal form. Unable to bear the sight of so much suffering, she spilled her blood upon the earth and having done so, she encouraged her mortal family to drink from it. They were nourished from her blood as she died and thus the first vampires were born. In the midst of the famine, a new race arose. They had no need for food or water. They could survive only upon blood, for days or months or even years if needed. The Bloodmaiden, as she came to be called, had saved her family. And her family continued her lifesaving work by creating an incredible elixir derived from their own blood. They distributed this elixir to many of their mortal neighbors, turning them into the Pure and saving countless lives. And so it continued. Many were spared in this way. But of course, not all could live. With the survival of the strong, came a culling of the weak. A tribute was required so that some could endure the famine while others sadly perished. A tribute made in blood. Weak mortals paid the price willingly, even eagerly, so that their fathers or mothers or sisters or brothers or children could be saved and become stronger, while they gave up their lives to feed others."

I shuddered again. What she described was still a kind of terrible cannibalism. No less worse than eating one's own child.

"But this was all long before our time. It was not the first time, however, that mortals were saved by highbloods. Centuries later came the Blight of Shadows. A deadly illness that ravaged the mortal world and caused people to turn into mindless, nightmarish creatures known as the Shadowed. These creatures thrived in darkness, preying upon others. Entire cities were turned into wastelands. By this time, mortals and highbloods coexisted. Those of the Blessed Blood would not stand for this. In a coordinated effort, they utilized their inherent resistance to the plague and their superior strength, and eradicated the Shadowed, reclaiming lands that had been lost and saving mortals from extinction for a second time. From this time forward, mortals willingly recognized their inferiority and took on the name we are still known by today–the blightborn."

"But perhaps this is still not enough to convince you of the virtue of those of Blessed Blood?" Professor Hassan questioned me. "A hundred years later there came the Cataclysm. Malevolent creatures swarmed Sangratha, bringing with them legions of monstrous creatures. Among them were the dragons–massive, fire-breathing beasts that answered to no one. The dragons ruled the skies and terrorized the land. They were almost unstoppable, laying waste to entire cities. But a few highbloods saw these creatures' worth, their potential. They found individuals with a rare affinity–the ability to bond to dragons. They honed these ones into the race that came to be known as riders. Together with the riders, the highbloods led the armies of the vampire and mortal realms in a great war, vanquishing the dark forces that threatened Sangratha and sealing away the terrors."

The room had grown very still. I didn't dare look around. I knew what I'd find. Everyone's eyes on me once again.

"We mortals accept our inferiority, Miss Pendragon," Professor Hassan said softly. "Because there is no other choice. The truth is plain to see. The Pure of Blood are superior. We live only thanks to their benevolence. They have saved us time and time again. We owe them not just our allegiance, our loyalty, our blood–but everything ."

I said nothing. I refused to agree with her. In my heart, I believed she was wrong.

There were two sides to every story. And what she had just spewed was carefully written historical bullshit.

To the victors went the spoils. Wasn't that the saying back in Aercanum? And the victors also wrote the histories, didn't they? Obviously the vampires wanted to come off as the saviors of the world. It was all propaganda. Propaganda that most of Sangratha had accepted as the truth.

The fact that I would have to sit here for weeks on end and listen to this drivel being taught as fact was what really infuriated me. I looked over at Florence, wondering if she had grown up hearing lectures like this.

"Sadly, our time is up," Professor Hassan announced. "My apologies to the class for the time we lost educating Miss Pendragon instead of moving onto new topics. Thank you all for your patience this morning."

Around me, students rose to their feet, gathering satchels and supplies.

I started to pass back my unused parchment to Florence and thank her for the assistance but my words were cut short.

"Miss Pendragon." Professor Hassan's brusque voice cut across the room. "A moment, if you will."

Florence brushed past me. "We'll wait for you outside," she whispered.

I nodded, seeing Naveen walking beside her. He smiled briefly at me, then quickly darted from the room. I supposed he was a First Year student in our dormitory, too. Or perhaps another warden.

Professor Hassan waited to speak until the room had almost emptied out.

"Tardiness is unacceptable at Bloodwing and in my class, Miss Pendragon," she sternly informed me, glaring down from the lecture stage.

"I understand completely," I said quickly. "Miss Pansera escorted me to class but we were both under the mistaken impression that it began..."

"Miss Pansera? Miss Regan Pansera was your guide this morning?" the professor asked sharply.

I nodded. "She's Blake's other consort."

The teacher's eyebrows rose. "I am fully aware of that. What an honor to have Miss Pansera as your escort. An honor I doubt you truly appreciate."

"I can appreciate kindness whatever the source," I said, trying to keep my temper.

She frowned. "Very well. I'll be lenient with you this time, Miss Pendragon. Because of your esteemed guide. Miss Pansera had only your best interests in mind. But do not be late again. Should you be tardy a second time, there will be a penalty."

"I understand."

I hurried out of the lecture hall before she could change her mind.

Florence squeaked as she spotted me. "Medra! What happened this morning?"

"I guess there was an error on my timetable," I explained with a frustrated sigh. "Regan and I thought the class didn't begin until nine-thirty."

"Oh, dear," Florence said. "I hope she got to her own class all right."

"So do I," I replied.

"What's next on your schedule, ladies?" Naveen Sharma sidled up beside us. He had flattened his hair down, but a few strands still stuck out on the sides. The boy was even shorter than I'd realized. He only came up to Florence's shoulder. He was built differently, too.

He caught me staring at him and grinned as I blushed. "Never seen a dwarf before, have you?"

"A...what?"

"Naveen is blightborn but he's also dwarven," Florence explained. "His people live underground."

My eyes widened. "That's incredible."

"The dwarves are amazing builders. They construct entire cities beneath the earth. They're also notorious for their scouting skills," Florence said.

"Bloodwing must be very different compared to where you're from," I said.

Naveen nodded. "It's certainly brighter." He pointed to my schedule and I remembered his original question.

"I have Restoration next," I said, glancing at my schedule. "Then lunch, I hope."

"There's a lunch break after the next class," Naveen assured me. "I have Restoration next, too."

"So do I," Florence said. "Although, Medra, I'm surprised..."

But whatever she'd been about to say was cut short when Naveen elbowed her in a friendly way.

"Of course, you're in Restoration. Florence here is a brilliant student, you know. She has her pick of specialties," Naveen explained to me. "She's smart enough to be a strategist or a healer. Now she needs to pick between the two. Unless they approve her for both."

"I didn't know that," I said, raising my eyebrows. "But I'm not surprised to hear it. So is that why she's a warden? She made it sound like it was because her mother..."

"Was a librarian," Naveen finished. "Ha! No, that had nothing to do with it. You're too modest, Florence."

"Well, I'm not about to go around bragging about myself, Naveen," Florence said, blushing madly. "Or telling people I have two specialties."

"That's why I'm here to do it for you," Naveen said, grinning at me.

"Are you two...?" I looked between the two of them, suddenly wondering if there was more to this playful banter.

"Oh, no," Florence said, her eyes widening. "We've been friends since we were children. Naveen is like my brother. There's a dwarven stairwell to his city near the town I grew up in and we would visit each other. I met him at a market day when his people came above ground to sell some dwarven wares. Mostly gold, of course."

"I'm single," Naveen said, putting his hands up. "I had a girlfriend back home but being accepted to Bloodwing... Well, that kind of put a damper on things. Long distance and all that."

I nodded sympathetically, as if I understood, deciding not to say anything about my own limited experiences with the opposite sex.

"Goodness!" Florence exclaimed. "We have to get to Restoration. Now."

I looked around and noticed the hallway around us had emptied out.

"We have five minutes to get to the south tower," Florence sputtered, already almost sprinting away from us. "Hurry!"