Chapter 10 | Ravinica

Chapter 10

Ravinica

EIRIK LED ME THROUGH the academy swiftly—too fast for me to get a close look at everything. My vision tunneled, which didn't help, as I felt like a child being led to her father for a scolding.

At one point, Eirik grabbed my elbow because I started to drift away. I had to shrug him off me.

From what I could tell, Vikingrune Academy was split into sectors. The entire place was surrounded by a fence-wall with angled stakes to fend off besiegers, though I couldn't see where the fence ended.

The plateau up on this hillside was much larger than I'd thought. We passed some multi-tiered buildings of brick and stone, blocking much of my view. There were meadows and walkways between some of the smaller longhouses that were congregated near the middle of the academy Eirik led me through.

In true Viking fashion, this was not an ostentatious place. I respected the academy taking itself seriously, opting for function over opulence. It could be seen as a place of learning and training rather than a university for parties and ribaldry.

Everything looked utilitarian—from the squat, bland nature of the structures, to the freshly cut grass of the meadows. I noticed no statues to the gods or goddesses at first glance. No banners or tapestries signifying places of importance.

The two exceptions were buildings in the back, the north side. The first and most noticeable looked like a gothic cathedral: black, gaudy, with twisting spires to make up separate wings. Its towers reached high into the sky from the highest point of the hillside. A large banner of Vikingrune Academy—white dragonhead on black shield—was draped across the front of it so everyone entering could see.

That was the castle I'd been drawn toward before Eirik gripped my arm and dragged me along behind him.

"Fort Woden," Eirik grunted, noticing I was gazing at it in awe. "Primary fortress and home of the Gothi and Hersirs."

Named after the All-Father himself. Fitting. I knew "Gothi" to mean "chieftain," so I assumed that was the headmaster. "Hersir" was a commander, so I figured they were either military leaders like this Ingvus person Eirik was leading me to, or professors.

I thrust my chin toward the other tall building I could see, tucked near the back behind some longhouses, opposite Fort Woden to the north. This one was white, with grand pillars keeping it upright. It looked at least four stories tall, which was why it stood out and how I could see it over the roofs of the closer structures.

"And that?" I asked.

"Mimir Tomes. The academy library. You'll become more acquainted with that than you will Fort Woden."

I raised a brow at my brother. Yes, I will. I looked forward to combing through the stacks of Mimir Tomes, named after the wisest god of the Aesir. Of course, Eirik didn't know I had an ulterior motive for wanting to peruse the library. Libraries also hold records. Records I might need to suit my purposes here.

I stuffed that tidbit down as we weaved past some longhouses, marched over a hilly meadow, and came to a smaller building close to Fort Woden. It took nearly half an hour to get there, showing me the breadth and size of the academy.

I'll definitely get lost here if I don't learn my way around fast. And for someone like me, that could spell danger.

To make things more difficult, the sectors or districts appeared to be split by wooded areas. It was nearly impossible to see from one quadrant into another.

Currently, we were at the northwestern quadrant, if my navigation was correct. Close to Fort Woden. The Tomes was over in the northeast, and I couldn't see the southwest or southeast quadrants from here between the thick rows of hedges, trees, and undergrowth.

Before getting to the door, I thought of something. "Why are there guards along the walls surrounding the academy, E? Isn't this supposed to be a school? Makes it seem like a stronghold or a . . ." I trailed off when he stopped walking and narrowed his eyes on me. The door to the building was a few short feet away.

"Jailhouse?" he ventured.

Gulping, I nodded.

"In some ways, it is a stronghold, though not in the way you think. This isn't a prison, Vini." He gave me a small smile, which was nice to finally see since he'd been frowning so much recently. "Vikingrune fosters independence," he continued, leading us to the door. He pulled the door open and moved aside to let me pass.

Inside, the place looked like an office building more than anything else. Small tables, a hallway leading to doorways on either side.

Eirik talked in a low voice while we walked. "Cadets and students are allowed to leave whenever they like, though they have to state their business on the way in and out, every time, like I did when I brought the Wraith crew through the southern gate. The guards are there for our protection. To keep out enemies."

"Enemies? Here ?"

"You'll learn more at orientation, sister. For now—" He cut himself off as he stopped at one of the side doors and knocked.

A grumpy-sounding voice called out from the other side. "Enter."

The small office on the other side was like any other—nondescript, with a small bookshelf to the right, a desk in the center with a chair on our side, and a man sitting on the other side of the desk.

The man looked funny to be sitting in a modern-day office with his plaited blonde-gray hair, bushy beard, and the black leathers of a warrior rather than the robes of a scholar. Even sitting, he was nearly as tall as me, though quite lanky. He wore no ornamentation other than a pair of spectacles on the tip of his nose.

He was quite handsome for an older man, though deep grooves lined his face near his mouth, like he'd done too much frowning in his life.

Eirik swept his hand out toward the man when we entered. "Sister, this is Hersir Ingvus Jorthyr."

Without "dan" or "deen" at the end of his name, I knew his suffix meant he was something special. I just didn't know what "thyr" meant yet.

"Sit," he said in his deep voice that brooked no argument.

Swallowing hard, I sat before I could start fidgeting. I started wringing my wrists once I could hide them under the edge of the desk. Eirik stood behind me to the right, hands clasped in front of him.

The Hersir inspected me for a long moment, making me uncomfortable. When he let out a sound that was either a sigh or a grunt, I started, "Hello, Hersir—"

"State your name," he demanded.

I blinked. Held my chin higher. "Ravinica Lindeen."

Ingvus glanced from me to Eirik over my shoulder. "Sister, you said?"

"Yes, sir," Eirik answered.

"You have multiple?"

"Erm . . . no."

"Then this is the famed bog-blood sibling of yours?"

A tic rippled through my chin, and I fumed. "I'm sitting right here. Sir. I can answer your questions." My main question was: What the fuck are you getting at?

"Ravinica—" Eirik started to reprimand me, but Ingvus silenced him with a grunt.

It seemed manners were lost at the academy, from everything I'd seen so far. I tried to tamp my frustration down, thinking, Makes sense, I guess. No time for bullshit when you're training the defenders of tomorrow. The soldiers of our people. Which means no time for pleasantries, either.

I was used to shitty attitudes, so I sat back and leveled my eyes on the Hersir.

Ingvus stared at me. His eyes were dark and his face was unreadable. He didn't look offended at my complaint. His lips moved as he mulled me over, making me uncomfortable again. "If you are bog-blooded, then you are Ravinica Linmyrr, not Lindeen."

The frustration flared. I seethed. "I don't call myself bog-blood, swamp-bred, or anything like that, sir. I find it derogatory, and don't wish to deter my self-worth and confidence."

"Confidence is good. Arrogance is not. You don't get to decide the Old Way's naming conventions because you simply don't like them, initiate."

Grinding my jaw together, I managed not to react. I bowed my head like a good little soldier. "Yes, sir. As you say."

Ingvus sat back in his chair. "As a bastard, you were given that name. You claim you aren't one. Who are your parents?"

"My mother is Lindi Foradeen. Same as my brother Eir—"

"Drengr."

"Same as Drengr Eirik."

Ingvus tilted his head. His hands remained threaded together in front of him. "And your father?"

My cheeks shaded pink. "I . . . don't know."

Ingvus nodded, as if that explained everything and he had come to a decision. "Lindi Foradeen is respectable. She is a graduate of this academy. That is not in question, initiate. She is not your only parent, however, is she? Your name reflects who you are here as a whole, young lady. Yours is marred in shame."

I opened my mouth to respond, but he held up a finger to quiet me.

"Shame that is represented by your wicked father, who passed down his name to you. Not to mention those ears and that hair. So, as such, Linmyrr it is."

With that settled, Hersir Ingvus lifted his hands from the desk, grabbed a pen, and wrote something on a piece of paper in front of him.

Inside, I raged. Nothing he said was false—I had grown up with that knowledge. But to hear it said so matter-of-factly, so dispassionately, right to my face, ripped at my heart. These people will never give me a chance because they see me as a byproduct of something malicious. A byproduct of a man they've never met, who is hated because of the race he was born to.

My confidence wavered, my shoulders slumped. I couldn't believe I was defending my nameless mystery of a father. I could feel Eirik behind me, tense as ever, as if he wanted to reach out and put a hand on my shoulder to either console me or still me.

I didn't need his pity. All I need to do is prove everyone here wrong about me. I am not my name, like I told Arne. I am my own person.

While the storm of anguish and hate whipped around inside me, Hersir Ingvus turned his attention to Eirik. He spoke to him, again, as if I wasn't sitting there. "Your younger brother was chosen as initiate, Drengr."

"Yes, sir."

"Why is your sister here in his stead?"

"Because my brother is weak, and a drunkard," I cut in with a hiss, letting some of my anger come out in my voice. "I defeated him in all the physical trials."

"Yet he can Shape, yes? And you cannot?"

Shame filled me. I averted my gaze, cursing myself for my stupid magic—or lack of it. ". . . Yes, sir."

Ingvus blinked at me. Again, he didn't reprimand me for my outburst. To Eirik, he said, "Your opinion on your brother?"

"Ravinica, erm, has the right of it," Eirik said, sounding squeamish. "Damon is undisciplined, sir."

"You have faith your half-sister can meet the expectations your brother was expected to meet?"

"I do, sir. And then some. She will be a fine addition to the academy. I wouldn't have brought her if I didn't believe that in my bones."

My heart soared at my brother's admission. It bit away some of the frustration I'd been feeling. To hear him speak of me like that, after being two-faced in how he acted around me, renewed my faith in Eirik. It helped restore my confidence. If he believes in me, then I can too.

"There's always next year for Damon," Eirik said, his hide armor creaking as he shrugged.

"You don't make that determination, soldier," Ingvus said.

Eirik bowed. "Of course not, sir. I only meant—"

"I know what you meant." Ingvus faced me again. "You're lucky to have vouching from a Vikingrune warrior, initiate. You would do well to remember your place here, and not rock the boat, as it were."

I nodded diligently. "Yes, sir. Of course."

Does that mean I'm in?

"Eirik Halldan, you will be reprimanded for your transgression. A week in the Tomes, gathering duty."

Eirik let out a small sound. "Yes, sir. I understand."

It hurt to hear he was being punished for helping me. I wasn't about to open my mouth again, though I could tell why Eirik was dismayed at this news: For a man of action and consequence, a week in the library— not sparring or getting stronger—must have been an eternity.

I would prefer that, though. A week away from assholes like Ulf Torfen? Sign me up. Plus, it would help push my cause. At least I thought it might. I really didn't know enough about Vikingrune Academy yet to know if that was true.

After writing a few more things down, Hersir Ingvus threaded his fingers on the table, lifted his head, and stared at me. "If you thought you could come to this academy to escape your name, Ravinica Linmyrr, you thought wrong. Regardless, you will be permitted to attend."

I lifted off my seat unknowingly, face breaking out into a smile. The rollercoaster of his words hit me square in the chest, my shame blooming into gratitude. "Thank you, Hers—"

Another raised finger stopped me cold.

"Your admittance will be of a time-sensitive nature, however, to give you a chance to prove yourself. It will be predicated on your ability to wield the runes."

My heart thumped in my chest, filling me with confusion.

Ingvus put his glasses onto the tip of his nose, staring over the rims at me in his most serious, damning face yet. He leaned forward in his chair, as if trying to make sure I heard him loud and clear.

"If, after your first year, your inherent magic has not revealed itself, and you have shown no progress in runeshaping, then your admittance will be retracted and you will be expelled."