Chapter 22 | Ravinica

Chapter 22

Ravinica

DESPITE BEING DEAD -tired, I couldn't sleep more than a couple hours. It was the middle of the day, and the excitement at being back at Vikingrune consumed my thoughts. My trepidation had turned to enthusiasm as I vowed to make my comeback a strong one.

At the same time, the sense of impending doom was never too far from my mind—wondering when the Huscarls would swoop in to arrest me, or the Hersirs would announce me as an illegitimate student since I had missed so much class.

With winter fast approaching, and the finals for initiates right around the corner, I was more determined than ever not to tarry. I had no time to waste on sleep.

So I hopped out of bed after a mere two hours of rest, charged by manic energy. I said, "Fuck it," checked the clock on the wall opposite my bed, and grabbed my things: academy clothes, backpack, spear.

I rushed down the empty hall of Nottdeen and gave myself a quick rinse in the showers, to wash the dirt of travel and the stink of caves off me.

Feeling refreshed, staring at myself in the mirror, I gave a stern nod in the reflection before setting off for Vala Chamber. If I was quick, I could still make Runeshaping Basics class.

Dagny was napping on her desk at the front like a lazy bobcat, a small smile on her face. I wondered if she had cat-like dreams as I tiptoed my way out of the dormitory, careful not to wake her.

Breathing in a lungful of sweet mountain air, I headed east. Students moseyed around all over—big barrel-chested men and broad-shouldered women; there were no weak people at this military training academy.

I noticed a few initiates double-take when they saw me trudging with purpose down the road. Brows rose, eyes bulged, and whispers scattered between them as I passed.

It slowed my roll, catching me by surprise. It appeared everyone thought I'd been dead, because they looked at me like they'd seen a ghost.

I made it to the odd, egg-shaped structure of Vala Chamber—the runeshaping hub nestled within the village of longhouses where Astrid Dahlmyrr had jumped me with her goons a month ago.

With five minutes to spare, I walked inside along with the trickle of other initiates.

The first thing I noticed once inside the theater-style classroom was that Magnus was nowhere to be seen. He was the only man I'd traveled with who was a first-year initiate like me. I figured he must have been sleeping off his journey, with how sunken and exhausted he had seemed.

I didn't think too much of his absence, and just hoped he didn't have some debilitating disease or infliction he wasn't telling me about.

The other thing I noticed as I took my seat near the front of the stage was the thread of whispers shooting from ear to ear didn't stop. Gossip about me swam in circles, and I wondered if there was more to the whispers than I realized.

I waited impatiently at my seat, drumming my knees—

When a gasp ripped through the classroom behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder to find Randi Ranttir bounding down the steps in the middle of the room, two at a time.

"Raviiiin!"

She dropped her books. Her arms flailed wildly. She'd done her hair differently—four red-tipped braids flew around her head like whips.

I smiled as I stood to brace for impact.

Much like Dagny, the smaller lass launched at me and gave me a bear hug, pushing the air out of my lungs. She wrapped her legs and arms around me, going airborne and weighing me down. I had to dig my heels in to stay standing.

I held her in a hug like a front-facing backpack before she stumbled to her feet. She beamed at me, ear to ear. "I didn't believe the rumors at first! You're really back !"

With a crooked smile, I rubbed the back of my neck. "There's already rumors?"

"Word travels fast at an academy so small, babe."

I sighed. "Guess so. Well, um, yeah. Here I am." I matched her smile and tried to match her energy, but it was impossible. We were simply built different.

Also like Dagny, I could see the cogs of questions spinning around in her head. She didn't have time to barrage me with them, as a voice cleared behind us and got everyone's attention.

Hersir Gudleif Selken, the sharp-faced, gaunt runeshaping professor, waded onto the stage in her black robe. Her gray-streaked hair fluttered behind her, and from the high ground she met my gaze.

Her expression was stern, which wasn't surprising in itself, though Selken had always given me the benefit of the doubt because of the way Astrid treated me. Even though I couldn't Shape in the past, she gave me preferential treatment, even allowing me to use unorthodox means to pass the midterm. If a water-filled condom and arrow combo could be considered "unorthodox."

I quickly took my seat next to Randi, and the Hersir's eyes never veered from mine, which left me spooked.

Gulping, I waved up at her. "Well met, Hersir Selken."

She blinked. Crossed her thin arms over her robed chest. "Ravinica Linmyrr. Welcome back." Her head tilted. "Do you find it appropriate to return to Runeshaping Basics . . . after everything that's happened?"

My brow furrowed in confusion. "Um. E-Excuse me? I believe it's appropriate, ma'am. I can Shape now." I smiled, proud of myself.

With a sigh, Gudleif turned away, palming her forehead. "Gods above, no one's told her," she muttered to herself. Louder, to the rest of the two dozen students scattered about the semi-circle of stadium seating, she said, "Everyone sit. We're continuing where we left off last week, delving into the intricacies of rune directives."

The Hersir pointed a slender finger at me. "Ravinica, speak with me after class."

I saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

Sitting, I waited for Astrid Dahlmyrr to cry out from somewhere in class—to shame me, chastise me for something, say I didn't deserve to be here.

Conspicuously, I glanced over both shoulders to try and locate the bully. I had done so much prepping during the long trek back to the academy, game-planning how I was going to react, respond, and retaliate against the Tomekeeper's bastard daughter.

But no outcry ever came. All I saw when I looked over my shoulders were a few students staring at me. Astrid's few bitchy minions were in the class, glaring daggers at me.

I winced and turned around. "Seems my welcome-home party is not going so well," I muttered to myself.

Next to me, Randi's brows were arched helplessly. She was looking into my face, as if trying to find something there, and it annoyed me. I didn't like being the center of attention like this, and I hoped within the next few days it would go away as my existence here became normal again.

"Question," I said out the corner of my mouth. "Where in Hel is Astrid? I can't believe I'm saying this, but I hoped to see her. I have a knuckle sandwich with her name—"

"In Hel. Like you said." Randi's low, serious voice cut me off.

The tone was so unlike her, and the expression on her face so foreign, it made my head reel. "What?"

She searched my eyes for a moment longer, and evidently found what she was looking for. "Shit. Gudleif is right. No one's told you."

"Told me what Randi?"

"Um, well . . ." She bit her lip. "Astrid's dead, babe."

I stormed into Nottdeen after a quiet, somber Runeshaping Basics class where I'd felt unbelievably uncomfortable and strangely sad.

After letting us out, Hersir Selken told me it was probably best I kept my head down and didn't try to draw attention to myself while the "investigation" was still ongoing.

I told her, first, when did I ever try to draw attention to myself? And second, when did this happen?

Turned out Astrid was murdered the night before I sneakily left the academy with Arne Gornhodr.

Not a great look for me, admittedly.

Beyond that, Selken couldn't tell me anything. She didn't know Astrid or her friend Corta's causes of death. Or at least she claimed not to, which I thought was complete bullshit.

The Hersirs knew everything in this place.

I barged into Nottdeen, yelling, "Dagny!"

The shifters head bounced up from her napping post, drool slurped up from the side of her mouth. Blinking bleary eyes at me, her mouth fell open.

"Rav, what's g-going on?" she asked as she threw her glasses on.

I stormed over and jabbed a finger down on the counter. "Astrid Dahlmyrr, bestie. What the hell happened?"

Dagny paled like I'd just thrown a bucket of ice over her head. "Oh gods, I'm so sorry. I thought . . . you knew."

"Knew she was murdered the day before I left?! No, I didn't. Seemed everyone conveniently left that part out."

I could hardly contain my rage, which was only held back by the confusion and roaring questions in my mind.

Astrid's death meant so much, and changed so much. Tomekeeper Dahlia's sickly-sweet smile? It had a whole new, ominous meaning now. How was the librarian keeping it together knowing her daughter was dead, and the likely suspects of her death were waltzing out of her building together?

"Maybe they just didn't know how to tell you," Dagny said, scrambling for something to hold onto while I ranted. She found a pen and nervously spun it in her fingers. "Wait. Who is they , anyway? Who did you come back with?"

I sighed, frustrated I was being diverted from the subject at hand. "Grim, Sven, Magnus, and Arne." I left Corym E'tar out of the equation, for good reason. I trusted Dagny as much as I trusted Grim Kollbjorn, and yet, I didn't want to burden her with information that I'd maybe, possibly, probably fallen for a Ljosalfar elf while I was away.

She blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing. "Grim was arrested and accused of the murders, first."

I paused, thinking that over. Okay. That makes sense. Berserker goes on a rampage after I'm ambushed and wounded? Checks out.

"He was released for lack of evidence, I think," Dag added.

"What the hell does that mean—a ‘lack of evidence'?"

Her bony shoulders jumped. "It means we have no idea why he was released, Rav. It's the boilerplate announcement the students got from Gothi Sigmund and Hersir Jorthyr."

Ingvus Jorthyr. The Warden, who first threatened me with exile when I came here. And Sigmund, of course, the head honcho.

Someone was hiding something. I didn't know who, and I didn't know what, but I knew it sure as shit.

"Wait," Dagny said, slapping her pen down on the counter. "Did you say you traveled with Magnus Feldraug?"

Lines creased my forehead. "What of it?"

Her cheeks drained and she looked away. "You'll want to talk to him, Rav."

"I— what? This is getting more and more confusing!"

"Just go, Ravinica!" She shooed me away, close to hysterics.

So, I went. Barreled out of Nottdeen, beelining west across the southern quadrant line straight toward Nottdan Quarter, the male initiate dormitory.

The two-story longhouse was the mirror image of Nottdeen, with a flat grassy roof on a peaked gable that had the Vikingrune emblem across its front.

I burst into the building, dramatically flinging the door on its hinges.

The RA at the front, a squat man I'd never met with a bright orange beard, lurched. "Thor's balls, woman, do you blow in everywhere like a battering ram?"

"Where is Magnus Feldraug?" I demanded.

"Um, sleeping in his room, I think? Less he snuck out while I was taking a piss—"

"Which room?"

His face scrunched with embarrassment. "We can't give out—"

" Which room, sir?!"

"Two-twelve! Fuckin' bog-blood, if I lose my job over this . . ."

I was already sweeping past him, headed for the stairs. I stormed up to the landing and slammed my fist on the door once I got to the room.

"It's open," croaked a voice on the other side.

I breached the door with all the energy of Grim in one of his berserk rages. Standing in the frame, I readied to raise my voice at Magnus and demand to know what happened—why he and the others hadn't told me about Astrid during our hours-long travels—

But I was stunned silent, shocked at his appearance.

The bloodrender was in bed, sheets pulled up to his neck. His face was drenched in sweat, a sickly pallor to his gaunt cheeks. He looked unbelievably unhealthy, like he was dying, with a slight tremor in his cheeks and beneath his half-lidded eyes.

With my stomach dropping, I hissed, "Valkyries take me, Magnus, what the fuck happened to you?"

I hurried into the room, closing the door behind me—throwing aside the nagging thought he might be contagious, whatever this was.

I didn't care. My stun was too great, my fear too worrisome, to care if he got me sick.

Going to my knees at the side of his bed, I put a hand on his body. He seemed frail. "Magnus, love?"

He blinked at me and shot me a smile that looked like it took all of his energy. "Hello, l-lass. Good to see you again."

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you? Or what happened to Astrid? Dagny said I should come talk to— damn , you're burning up."

"It's nothing."

"Don't lie to me, bloodrender. What's going on?"

"It's a . . . sickness of the blood. Nothing to be alarmed about. And it's, well . . . connected to Astrid Dahlmyrr, in a way."

His words came out slow and slightly slurred, almost like he was drunk and recouping from a hangover.

I knew that wasn't it. Magnus was too disciplined for that nonsense.

"Connected how?" I asked.

"It's a long story."

"Are you too tired to tell it?"

He blinked. "Not necessarily."

I bit my lip, trying to calm my rampaging heart. I wished I had Grim here at a time like this, to rest another calming hand on my shoulder. To tell me what to do in this situation.

Well, if Grim can't . . . then maybe Magnus can?

I was not a nurturer, at my core. Many women dreamed of becoming a princess, or a mother, or a helper. I had always envisioned myself a warrioress, an assassin, and a bringer of justice.

There wasn't much nurturing to be done in those vocations.

Now, kneeling at Magnus' bedside, worried he was going to expire right in front of me, a panic fell over me.

"Is there anything I can do, Magnus?" I eked out, fighting against the emotion in my voice. "Please?"

"No, no," he answered, too quickly. Then he paused. His heavy, drooping eyelids blew wider. "Well . . ." he muttered, and I realized he was staring not at my face, but at my neck.

At the blood pumping like a river through my artery there, keeping my senses heightened and my body alert in this panicked moment.

". . . There might be one thing you can do to help, silvermoon."