Chapter 22 | Ravinica

Chapter 22

Ravinica

THE TWO HUSCARLS GUARDING the locked entryway slowly undid all three locks of the windowless door and opened it for us to pass. Kelvar took the lead, and the rest of us followed mutely into the darkness.

What lay ahead was a dungeon, complete with X-crosses and chains with hooks hanging from the ceiling. Nasty water from snowy runoff dripped in multiple spots of the small room, giving the place a rank odor.

At the back, silhouetted pale against the black stone wall, was Corym E’tar. My heart rose to my throat and I gasped at the sight of him.

Corym was chained to the wall, his arms above his head in a T, his wrists dangling in manacles. His legs were shackled by a cross-chain at his ankles. His face drooped to his chest with his golden mane lanky and covering his face. His bare, usually radiant skin was blotted by grime and bruises.

“Corym!” I shouted.

His head lifted. In a weak voice he sputtered, “ L-Lunis’ai ?” He blinked numerous times, his golden eyes cutting through the darkness. “Am I dreaming again?”

I rushed to him, kneeling in the muck to stare up into his tired, red-rimmed eyes. My hand cradled his chin, and while his skin was usually warm to the touch, it now stung me with coldness. “It’s me, love,” I said, tears in my eyes. “I’m here.”

Corym tilted his cheek into my palm, a faint smile on his lips. “Thank the spirits.” His voice, typically booming and so assured, was a raspy mess. “I thought I’d never see your coruscating face again.”

Kelvar made a sound of disgust behind us. At first I thought it was disgust over the tenderness I showed my elven mate. Then he said, “Despicable, these conditions.” He called over his shoulder. “If you’re going to give a man only a loincloth to dress him, at least make it long enough to cover his damned cock! Get this man some fucking clothes!”

One of the Huscarls hurried away, his armor clanking as he muttered, “Right away sir, yes sir.”

Mean chuckling followed in the his wake, from a new voice. Footsteps slopped in the muddy ground as a shadow stood in the archway, casting a torchlit silhouette into the room.

Hersir Ingvus Jorthyr said, “Torture is a dreadful affair, is it not?”

As Ingvus wandered into the cell, my other three mates stepped aside to let him get within arm’s reach of Kelvar.

The Warden and the Whisperer squared off.

“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Kelvar?” Ingvus asked him.

Kelvar crossed his arms, raising his chin. He was nearly a foot shorter than the tall, gangly Warden, but he showed no fear in his eyes. Only annoyance. “Perhaps you would do well taking one of my classes, Ingvus,” he spat. “None of my interrogations ever end up looking like this, yet I get the answers I want all the same.”

Ingvus laughed, his braided blond beard whipping about. “Is mental anguish not worse than physical pain, Whisperer?” He tapped his chin. “Maybe I would do well taking one of your interrogation classes after all.”

I had never liked Ingvus Jorthyr. He’d always been apathetic to my plight, yet he had helped arrange a situation with me and Magnus at one point that was beneficial to us both. He hadn’t protected us, per se, but he’d turned a blind eye to Magnus’ murders in return for his blood.

Now, Ingvus sounded downright sadistic. It made my blood run cold, and I stared daggers over my shoulder at him.

The Warden shrugged. “I was only doing as ordered by our Gothi, Kelvar. You know that. I am not the enemy here.”

“Why are you here then,” Kelvar asked, tilting his head slightly, “if not to antagonize?”

“I only come with a warning.” Before Kelvar could bite back, Ingvus put a hand on his own chest, feigning innocence. “Not a warning or threat from me. Don’t worry.”

“What is it?” the Whisperer snarled through gritted teeth.

I was surprised by the animosity he showed his brethren Hersir. I had always thought Kelvar, Ingvus, and all the rest of the faculty were in cahoots—a secret club of authority where they laughed at the expense of us foolish students. I had always thought Kelvar was the worst offender of the bunch, and surely the most terrifying, despite his stature.

Now, I was seeing a new side to this house of cards. New rivalries, perhaps, between the Hersirs themselves. It was interesting, being in the middle of it, deathly quiet as we listened to these two leaders of the academy square off in a tense battle of wills.

Not all was well in paradise, apparently.

“Dahlia will not be happy about this,” Ingvus said. “She already believes you stole the bloodrender from her, when she was on the cusp of discovery. Now this? Using an elf for whatever diabolical schemes you have cooking? She’ll take it as a personal affront.”

Kelvar scoffed. “Why do you believe I give a single shit what the Tomekeeper is angry about? As you said yourself: I’m only doing the will of the Gothi. She can bring up her complaints to our wise and illustrious chieftain.”

Is that . . . backhanded mocking I’m hearing from the Whisperer, about his own leader? Surely I must be hearing things, or looking too deeply into his tone and choice of words.

Kelvar was a man of many surprises.

“Nonetheless,” Ingvus said, stepping past Kelvar to move toward me and Corym. “She will not be happy, and I daresay you’ve committed the cardinal sin of underestimating her in this situation, Kelvar.”

Still kneeling, hand on Corym’s sunken face, I seethed at Hersir Jorthyr, narrowing my eyes dangerously on him.

He stared down his hawkish nose at me, smiling slightly. “The bog-blood, like a dog, ready to pounce to her owner’s defense.”

I stood tall, rage settling inside me. Behind Ingvus, my mates made a step toward him, and I gave them a slight shake of my head. I squared my shoulders to defend myself and Corym, but it was the elf who spoke from behind me into the quiet room.

“You have it wrong, Warden,” Corym said in his ragged voice, lifting his head. “I’m the hound. She owns the leash. No amount of violence or depravity will ever break me from her side.” Finishing, he spit a bloody glob off to his side and smiled wickedly at the Warden.

A flash of fury wrinkled Ingvus’ face. It was gone in an instant, his straight-backed composure returning before he could give away the depths of his rage at being called useless.

Before he could scoff and leave us, Kelvar blocked his path on the way out. Lifting his sharp chin, staring those dark pools for eyes into Ingvus’ face, he said, “Here’s what I think, dear Warden. I think you’re sad to be losing your little toy, so you’re lashing out. You want someone to play with, to feel important and drown out your intense feelings of inadequacy.”

I stopped breathing, a cloud of tension filled the room. My mates were gobsmacked into silence, whites showing in everyone’s widened eyes.

“Is that what you think?” Ingvus gritted out.

The Whisperer nodded. “No mindshaping required.” Then, shockingly, he stepped aside to let Ingvus pass and shooed his hand toward the door. “You let me deal with Tomekeeper Dahlia. You . . . go have fun building your little boats, while I try to accomplish something of import to the academy we both hold dear.”

An hour later, we had gathered our things and were ready for the perilous trek ahead. None of us knew what awaited us on the other side of Vikingrune Academy’s walls.

This was new grounds for everyone—even Hersir Kelvar. Mysterious enemies and predators on the Isle had not been seen by Vikingrune Academy for centuries.

I still didn’t like the Whisperer, because he scared the jeebies out of me . . . but gods had it been satisfying to hear him get the last laugh with Hersir Jorthyr before dismissing him so insultingly.

The look of pure loathing that had settled on Ingvus’ brow and twitched his jaw made me think he’d been ready to challenge Kelvar to holmgang right then and there.

Of course, the Warden was too esteemed for that. He hadn’t stooped any lower, leaving with his tail between his legs and his “torture toy” taken from his greedy clutches.

Corym took the longest to gather his things together, despite having the least to bring. He had only shown up with the clothes on his back and his curved elven blade and side-dagger, yet it took us a while to find those weapons from Hersir Osfen in the armory, where they’d been stashed.

“A fine blade, this one,” Osfen said about the sword, handing it to Hersir Kelvar. “Shame to be losing it before studies could be completed.”

“Studies, Axel?” Kelvar asked, taking the sword, scabbard, and dagger.

“Its silvered blade is imbued with runic magic. So is the dagger.”

I had seen both of those wicked blades in action, so I knew Axel spoke the truth. I’d never seen magic from the sword, but I’d seen the dagger light up like the sun when he handed it to me to kill Arne with.

“Perhaps you will find them in your hands again some day,” Kelvar said.

The stout warrior chuckled with a glint in his eyes. “Doubtful, Whisperer.” He nudged his chin over Kelvar’s shoulders, to where Corym and I stood. “You lose the elf, you’ll never see him or his weapons again.”

“I don’t plan on losing the elf, friend.”

Axel chuckled as he wandered off. “Aye. It’s no matter to me if you do, mate. He probably fits in with his own people better than he does here, anyway.”

Then he was gone, leaving us with a conversation between two Hersirs how I expected it to go. Some back-and-forth chatter, nothing alarming or threatening.

We left Gharvold Under to let Hersir Osfen prepare for his Advanced Team Tactics class, which I would be missing for the foreseeable future. He had given me an extension to his class when I was bedridden, and now he was being forced to do it again for a situation out of his control—one that Gothi Sigmund had ordered.

Corym moved slower since leaving the dungeon, which added to the time it took us to exit the academy. I grew more anxious as the minutes dwindled away.

He tried not to show the pain on his face, once he was fully clothed in his soft elven tunic and pants, but I knew him too well by now. He could present a stoic, regal air, and only I could see through it to the pain he was nursing.

Pain, and also . . . excitement. He kept assuring me he was fine for traveling. I wasn’t sure if I believed him, because I knew limping his way through the treacherous snowfall could endanger all of us. He knew that too.

When Grim made mention of it on the way out of the academy, Sven chuckled and said, “You can ride the bear if your legs stop carrying you, elf.”

Arne laughed, and I smiled.

It was good to have my mates back, even if they annoyed the shit out of each other.

Corym said, “I would never lower myself to such an undignified position on my own accord . . .” As he trailed off, I looked over at him, raising my brow. “. . . but I would not turn down an invitation if it was offered.”

We paused, and then I burst out laughing, which was contagious to Arne, and even Sven.

Finishing his laughter, Sven clapped Corym on the back and made him wince. “It’s all right, pointy-ear, it was simply your time for the rite of passage.”

“Rite of passage?” Corym asked, not reacting to the slurring title of “pointy-ear” that got my blood boiling.

Sven smirked. “We’ve all been fucked over by the academy as tests to stay by Ravinica’s side.” He tossed a thumb over his shoulder at the others trailing behind us. “Arne was held captive and mindshaped by our dastardly leader here, Kelvar.”

“I was also imprisoned and beat up by you and Grim . . .” Arne pointed out in a mutter, trailing off.

“Aye, but that had nothing to do with the academy. That was just for fun.” Sven beamed at the elf beside him, ignoring Arne’s complaint. “Grim was falsely accused for murders and imprisoned, and never jailed for the one he actually commited!”

“Low blow, wolf,” Grim murmured.

“Magnus was taken and tested like a lab rat because of his spooky magic blood,” Sven continued, willy-nilly throwing everyone’s painful stories into the open, like the asshole he was.

When he fell silent, Corym glanced over with a peaked brow. “And what’s your story, Sven?”

The wolf shifter blinked at him, acting like he didn’t hear him. “Hmm?”

“What was your rite of passage to stay by lunis’ai’s side?”

Sven babbled for a moment, cheeks slightly blushing.

I laughed.

Grim shouted out, “He doesn’t have one. Because he’s a whiny mongrel.”

“I had to stay in the infirmary and listen to you bellyaching bastards for days !” Sven cried out, trying to defend himself.

My laughter only grew at his discomfort, being put on the spot.

Arne said, “Doesn’t count, unless the time you walloped me also counts. The academy didn’t do that to you.”

Sven flared his nostrils. “Well I sure as Hel didn’t do it to my damn self.”

Corym slapped him on the back, echoing the wolf’s own movement, making Sven cough with surprise. “Don’t fear, Sven Torfen. We will find a rite of passage for you.”

Everyone laughed but Sven, who grumbled to himself about how we were all useless bastards, or something to that effect. “I hate each and every one of you,” he muttered, bowing his head in shame and embarrassment.

I beamed over at Corym, catching him smiling coyly, as if realizing he’d done a good job of solidifying himself with the group.

Elf or not, he was one of us.

It had to be the first smile he’d shown in weeks.

He never ceased to surprise me. Corym was starting to joke around with us, showing a softer side. And he’d only just been released from his prison. He was a remarkable man, able to put the past behind him without a second thought, to always move forward.

I could learn a lot from him, I thought, threading my fingers into his as we walked toward the ladder that would bring us aboveground. As I did before, when I was his “prisoner.”

My smile widened, and his did too. His expression was marred by the bruises on his face. As if I hadn’t already mentioned it enough, he really did resemble Arne right now with his beautiful face a mess of bruises and bumps.

Arne had looked the same when Sven and Grim beat him for betraying me. It hurt as much to look at him as it did to look at Corym now.

The Ljosalfar did not wallow. The excitement on Corym’s face was clear now—he was going to be out of Vikingrune Academy, with me, and a step closer to his homeland once we reached the portal.

We all knew it would be a trek to get there. I trusted no one more than these men. I still didn’t understand or trust Kelvar’s part in all this, or his motives, but he was an outlier.

I spoke on the subject as we neared the ladder, stepping up beside him. “Gothi Sigmund is allowing this, sir? I don’t understand.”

“The Gothi gave me jurisdiction to choose my company. You are all here for a reason, whether that be tracking abilities, familiarity to our subject, and another inexorable truth.”

I gave him a confused look. “What’s the inexorable truth, Hersir?”

He looked me dead in the eyes, serious as a heart attack. “When push comes to shove, Ravinica Linmyrr, I know you four will fight harder for Magnus Feldraug than anyone else in this academy.”