Chapter 41 | Magnus

Chapter 41

Magnus

I SAT RECLINED IN THE testing chair, staring up at the blinding white hospital lights overhead. My mind was turned off, or at least as much as it could be given what the damned scientists were doing to me.

It was humiliating, being a test subject. Worse was coming here, day in and day out, to willingly subject myself to this for weeks now.

Yet if it meant keeping Ravinica safe, I would gladly sacrifice my blood for that cause.

My silvermoon didn't fully understand the goings-on here, even if I'd told her about the leechings. She didn't know about the pain, the latent fear that nearly crippled me when I stepped foot in front of Fort Woden, mentally and physically preparing myself for the hours-long torture.

The term was over. Finals were finished. I was in the running to be named Drengr of the initiate class—the warrior with the best scores—though it was not a title I wanted, needed, or cared about.

Even though classes were done, I was still in here, surrounded by sterile drapes, curtains, the beeping of machines like I was on life support, and hooded nurses and doctors who were too cowardly to show themselves, for fear of retribution from their "patients."

I was a lab rat for the acolytes and scientists of the academy to poke, prod, and investigate.

After my first dozen leechings, I recalled asking myself, When will it end?

Now, I had no such questions. The academy would not allow me to leave here until they had sucked me dry of my unique blood, leaving me a husk. I would leave here a bloodless corpse, in a body bag. It may not be today, or tomorrow, but eventually the scientists would go too far as their morbid curiosity pushed them to achieve greater discoveries and damage my already-damaged body further.

At least that was what the nurses and acolytes must have seen when they looked at my placid face before throwing the hood over my head and leading me in here: a stoic, defeated bloodrender, incapable of feeling the intense emotions associated with this dreadful activity.

Inside, I told myself this time was different. This time, I had a purpose. A plan. After spilling my soul to Ravinica about the leechings, and seeing the horror on her face, something she had said struck me.

She'd wondered if there was a way to bolster her fledgling uprising with information found inside Fort Woden. I figured there had to be. This black castle was the primary residence of the Gothi, the command center for academy activities beyond the walls of Academy Hill, and the best-guarded hub of secrecy in the school.

Huscarls lined every inch of the place outside the doors, keeping constant watch. Breaking into Fort Woden was not like breaking into Mimir Tomes. The colonnaded library was a fulcrum for knowledge; the fort was a center for power .

Now I was conveniently inside the castle. Brought here out of scientific greed and misguided visions of strength—dumped in the lion's den so the smartest minds at the academy could mingle with my blood and find new ways of using it.

I wasn't going to sit still and patient any longer while they cut my skin, pumped me full of fake blood to rejuvenate me, and took my own.

In the past, I'd felt awful coming here. My physical condition deteriorated at such a degree I wouldn't have been able to defend myself even if I'd wanted.

But something had changed. After the past few sessions under the knife and needles of my hooded jailers, I felt renewed. Stronger. More able-bodied. The plasma-pumping wasn't having the same debilitating effect on me.

I could withstand this. I could grin and bear it.

When they turned their backs, I would be ready.

The first half hour went the same as it always did: Stepping in front of Fort Woden, announcing myself, and being greeted by a solemn, robed acolyte with a hood and mask to hide their features.

I recognized her voice as belonging to the same acolyte who always led me down the hallways after throwing the hood on my head and blinding me. I knew the exact number of steps to get into the laboratory. I knew the number of times I went left, right, no matter how much they tried to disorient me with differing routes. My senses were heightened in here, with my lack of vision.

When the hood was ripped off my head, it was at the exact time I'd anticipated. I was standing where I thought I'd be—blaring lights of the laboratory not causing me to wince or hiss any longer from the sudden change from dark to light.

Now, I was strapped to the gurney with leather wrist-bindings, slightly angled so my head rested above my chest. The nurse was pumping my depleted blood count with the fake shit they used to keep me living. While I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes to stave off the pain of that procedure, I heard the nurse fluttering about the room, looking over some papers with her back turned to me.

I knew my chance was coming. I would not squander it.

She came to pull the needles out of my arms once the process was complete. I felt sickly for a moment, nauseous, but as usual the feeling drowned away within minutes, as if being held back by something stronger than it inside me.

Through the mask she wore, with pincushion holes in the front, she said, "I'll return in a moment, Initiate Feldraug. You are doing quite well today."

She needed to bring in the machine that would meticulously draw my blood for the next hour—enough vials to make it worth their time, but not enough to kill me. It was not the typical manual labor that went into a blood draw for, say, testing bodily functions. It was an automatic process from a machine that looked like a printer with tubes sticking out of it.

As she turned and left the room, the countdown started in my head. I opened my mouth and let a small blade I'd stored behind my gums slip out between my teeth. It was tiny—a finger-knife to cut thread—so it would fit in my mouth and be undetected.

With my hands pinned to my sides by the leather straps, I Shaped runes from muscle memory. I couldn't see what my hands were doing, though I knew the Shapes.

I was rewarded with the whoosh of breaking air.

With my spell, I directed the blade to lift from my teeth. Shaping more runes in rapid succession, I forced it to cut into the leather bindings holding my left wrist.

The fools hadn't kept me trapped with metal, instead using an archaic means of shackling me to this hospital bed. Realizing that ignited the first seed of my plan.

When the blade severed the leather, I caught it in my left hand and looped over my body to manually slice into my right wrist-hold.

My blood swam, dizziness pumping through me as I realized I was beyond the point of return. Now, if I was caught, I'd suffer a far worse fate than these tests.

There was a curtain in a full circle around my room. Once freed, I sat up completely and cut off the ankle bindings. I closed my eyes and listened to the footsteps outside from the various nurses and acolytes, to gauge where they were in the room.

I rolled off the bed silently, Shaped a rune to send one of my signature spells—drawing out a shadow being into the chair where I'd been sitting.

Shadows coalesced, twining together. In its wake was a vaguely humanoid shape, wispy and black as nightfog, in the bed where I'd been.

The penultimate step to my plan came next, when I used my tiny, finger-length blade to carve a rune into the meat of my forearm. My blood ran, and with a wince I pulled back.

Precious seconds were ticking away.

I raised my hand over the still, silent shadow-mirage, and amplified my power with my bloodrending. It took great concentration, but slowly I saw the fabric of the apparition close, thread together, and form a face.

My face.

With sweat pouring, going into overdrive from the exertion, I stared down at my handiwork.

The mirage in the chair replicated me perfectly. No longer was it a blackened, blank face. It was a reflection with my gaunt features staring up at me with unblinking eyes, like a manikin made of nothing but air.

The scientists wanted a medical dummy? Well, now they had one. Dressed just like me, no less.

The subterfuge would not last long. The dummy couldn't speak or act. I was not that powerful of a bloodrender to mimic my body with my actions as a clone. Trying to put a needle in its vein would work as well as trying to catch the sky in your hands. And then my scheme would be found out.

I turned and exited the curtain, staying low in a crouch. Two nurses had their backs turned to me, inspecting vials at tables, going over paperwork.

I easily slid behind them like a wraith, and made it to the door of the room.

For all the soldiers and security this place had on the outside, once you were in, it was less guarded and easier to navigate, because no one ever got in unless they were called for.

Such was the case now. I poked me head out into the hallway and saw no Huscarls. I traced my steps in my head, using my photographic memory to recall how I'd gotten here with the hood over my head.

Then I took off sprinting, no longer needing to use stealth—because the longer I dallied, the worse my punishment would be once I was caught.

My plan was half-baked. There was only so much I could do here. I knew I wouldn't make it far. I didn't expect to get out of here, but I needed the academy to know I wouldn't put up with this shit forever.

Eventually they'd have to kill me or let me go. I was making the decision for them, showing them I could escape my prison if I so wanted.

And yet, some glimmer of hope still lived inside me. Deep in the furrows of my psyche, I wished to find Ravinica and wash this place of my memory. My childhood amnesia would go a long way right fucking now.

At the very least, I hoped to help her.

And that thought, at the precise right time, was what stopped my sprint as I made my way down the halls and cut left and right toward the entrance.

I pulled up short when I came to a large room with double doors, the dragonhead-and-shield emblem carved into iron handles.

One of them was slightly ajar.

"Freyr save me," I muttered to myself, shaking my head.

And I pushed into the room—

Just as I heard raised voices filtering in from different directions outside. "He's gone!" came one, and "Find him!" came another.

Boots now, pounding the halls, Huscarls coming together to spread out and try to find the escaped lab rat.

My time had abruptly become limited, with my decoy dummy discovered.

I shut the double doors behind me and took in the room, which was devoid of any people. It was large, ornate, domed with a high ceiling. Tapestries of battle and the Vikingrune banner lined the walls. In the center of the chamber was a square table, headless to denote equal power among whoever would sit there.

I was somewhere directly in the middle of Fort Woden, I figured. A ledge above me—the second level—circled the entire room. Perhaps where bystanders stand to watch the proceedings down here. Is this a courtroom? A presentation room?

A presenting board behind the table gave me a clue. As I stepped toward it, my head cocked when my eyes met the board, which was on wheels so it could be moved in and out of the room.

A map of the Isle hung from its surface; larger than me, with various circles and X marks lining the tattered picture.

I took in the most obvious red circles, which were dangerously close to where our battle with the Huscarls had been, near the elf encampment. The camp, too, was circled with an X over it.

This is the strategy room. This is the map used to denote conflicts near the academy. Hel, they know about their dead Huscarls? About our escape from the elf encampment?

I had to wonder if they also knew Corym E'tar was still alive, bunking with the Lepers Who Leapt.

I paced in front of the map, getting closer so I could make out all the granular details. My eyes narrowed when I noticed a small X near the remains of the elf encampment in Delaveer Forest. This mark was different, drawn in blue rather than red, which made it stand out. A small circle shaded the X.

Tapping my chin, lost in thought, I wondered what the mark denoted . . . and with widening eyes, I stepped back. The portal the elves used to leave Midgard and return to Alfheim. Vikingrune Academy has its location marked down, which means someone escaped our slaughter and told the Hersirs where it is.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, trying to put together the meaning of this discovery.

I was so lost in thought, I didn't hear the footsteps behind me. Perhaps because there were no footsteps at all—rather a soft glide like a specter in the night. My skin prickled as if I was being watched by an invisible force.

"Find something interesting, did you?"

I spun around with a gasp ripping from my throat, my whole body jolting with a start.

Kelvar the Whisperer stepped out from a shadowy corner of the room.

The doors were still closed. He hadn't used them. No, he'd used the shadows to venture to me, and now his face came into the dim light—gaunt, nearly skeletal, with brooding gray eyes and long, straight gray hair that reached the middle of his back.

The whisperer, mindshaper, and shadowwalker was dressed down in black—gloves, tunic, pants—without a hint of metal on him. He didn't make sounds when he moved, which was utterly eerie and jarring.

I stood face-to-face with the man I'd assumed was behind the blood leeching operation from the beginning. I was weakened from my blood-draw and creating my shadow image in the hospital, yet my veins pumped with power.

Sadly, even with all the power at my disposal, I feared I couldn't take this man. This legend of the academy.

"Hersir," I croaked, backpedaling toward the board as he advanced.

He opened his mouth to say something—

Then froze, head tilting toward the doors.

With a growl, his hand moved in a flurry—too fast for me to react. A black shawl sprang from his fingertips like webbing, landing over me. It was a sticky substance that held me in place, covering my view with a sheen of blackness that had me yelling.

The thing enveloped my whole body and I struggled—

And then heard the doors to the room burst open.

I stopped struggling as heavy footfalls entered the room.

I couldn't see, but I could hear.

Tomekeeper Dahlia's voice rang out, angry and thick. "Where is he?"

"What are you talking about, dear Dahlia?"

"Don't play coy with me, Whisperer. I can feel his blood nearby."

Kelvar was silent for a moment. Then his voice came from another direction—he had moved in front of me. " His blood, woman, or yours? As you can see, you are mistaken. There is no one in this room besides us. Perhaps your tracking spells went awry when your poisonous concoction dissipated from his bloodstream."

I was confused by Kelvar's words. Even more confused Tomekeeper Dahlia couldn't see me standing not twenty feet from her.

I realized the Whisperer had cast some sort of hiding spell. The sticky cloak I wore made me invisible, or simply a shadowy patch. It astounded me, and allowed me to listen.

Tomekeeper Dahlia let out a growl. "You seem to let on more than you should know, Kelvar."

"I've read the reports and studies as much as anyone, Dahlia. You've found what you were looking for."

A scoff from the Tomekeeper. "No, I have not found what I was looking for. These blood changes were not present at the start of the tests. They have only opened more questions."

Blood changes? Poisonous concoction? Tracking spells? Feeling my blood nearby? I was slowly gaining an understanding of what was happening, but like Dahlia had said, it raised more questions than answers.

She was responsible for the leechings, I deduced. Not Kelvar. The blood she pumped me full of to keep me alive was embroiled with something that gave her power over me.

It sounded diabolical.

She said, "The bloodrender should have been too weak to even leave his hospital bed, much less cast a shadow image and flee the room. Does this not concern you, Whisperer? The fact he is getting stronger rather than frailer?"

Kelvar said nothing. Since I couldn't see either of them, I didn't know if he shrugged, nodded, or shook his head.

"We've both seen the anomaly, Tomekeeper. Let's not play games."

The anomaly? What in Odin's name is going on? What are they trying to find within my blood?

Kelvar cleared his throat. "Whatever your concerns, I am pulling rank and ending this debacle. I know what you're really after, Dahlia Anfinn, and it must end."

"And what is that?" she crooned.

"Revenge."

I clenched my jaw. Of course. Her dead daughter. My hand in Astrid's death. It came as no surprise Tomekeeper Dahlia would want me dead—and not just dead, apparently, but tormented with blood that weakened my body, until I was a mere empty vessel, pliable by her trade.

"Can you blame me?" she shot back.

I felt Kelvar smile then, in front of me. I couldn't see or hear it, but I knew he was grinning like a devil in the dark. "No, I can't."

The librarian huffed. "This won't stand, Kelvar. I will bring this to the Gothi's attention."

"Be my guest. But you'd better hurry, Dahlia, lest the boy escapes your treacherous clutches and spreads the word about what's been done to him here."

With another frustrated sound, Dahlia called, "This isn't over, Whisperer," and her heavy tread carried her out of the room.

The doors shut a moment later—

And the black shawl hiding me disappeared.

I blinked back to startlement, staring at the furious face of Hersir Kelvar standing in front of me. His lips were a blade.

"Dammit, boy, I'm growing tired of saving your ass."

My mouth worked but no words came out as I tried to take everything in. I shook my head, hand running through my hair nervously. "What the hell is happening here, Hersir? What was the Tomekeeper talking about?"

"Too much, Magnus. You aren't safe here."

"Where else will I be safe?" I snapped at him, throwing my arms up. "I am an object for this place to use."

"No longer. You heard what I said. The tests are over. You can return to your studies and forget this ever happened.

" Forget ?!" I shouted. I rarely showed anger, spite, or any emotion, but this was too much. Something deep inside me begged for answers. I had worked so hard in my clandestine studies in Mimir Tomes to understand myself, and now I was back at the starting point, more confused than ever.

"What is this ‘anomaly' you spoke about?" I asked.

He narrowed the dark pools of his eyes, as if thinking about how much to say. Then, "There is a foreign entity in your blood that has kept you upright. Strengthened you, in fact." He tilted his head, watching my reaction curiously. "Care to tell me whose blood you've been taking, boy?"

"No. I refuse." My answer was swift, stern.

Kelvar chuckled. "It's no matter. I don't need to be a mindshaper to wrestle the truth from you, boy. The blood was elven-descended, and we don't have too many students who might share that DNA."

He popped the thin line of his eyebrows at me. I fought to remain steady under the scrutiny of this dangerous figure, recalling my training, trying to calm my slamming heart.

My heart that was supposed to belong to a dead man.

"The curious thing," Kelvar continued, pulling at the skin of his neck with his arms folded, "is that besides the ancient connection we've found within your blood, there is another thing we cannot yet identify. A connection with something ancient. That is what we are calling the ‘anomaly.' Because it is quite unexpected."

My lips moved, and Kelvar silenced me with a raised finger. "You must watch your back now, boy. I won't be there to protect you."

I clenched my jaw. "I don't need your protection, Whisperer."

He laughed. "Of course you don't. Stubborn as ever."

The fuck is he on about?

He walked toward the corner of the room, pointing. "Stand there in the shadows."

I didn't move, watching him walk away. Then I called out, "Why are you helping me, Kelvar?"

He froze. Without looking over his shoulder, his voice went low. "Because I made a promise, bloodrender."

I choked back more questions. Clearly, he wasn't going to tell me everything I wanted to know. I could deduce enough, and was starting to piece things together.

Ravinica's blood made me stronger. When I was at my weakest, when the poison of the Tomekeeper's "concoction" was invading my organs and turning me inside out, my silvermoon's essence saved me. It fought back against the infection of the plasma.

I could never thank her enough. All I could do was warn her that something was going on here, much darker than anticipated. The leechings no longer only concerned me. They concerned the woman I loved with all of my dead heart.

"Now stand in the fucking shadow, Magnus," he ordered, and his words forcefully wormed their way into my brain to command my feet to move. "So I can get you the fuck out of here. We can discuss more when you're safe."

I walked to the shadow, merging into the corner of the dark room beneath the overhead ledge.

Kelvar grabbed my elbow, the shorter man flaring his nostrils at me with a wicked smirk. "This might be uncomfortable, though I doubt it'll be any worse than what you've been subjected to in the testing rooms, boy."

And with that, we vanished from the corporeal plane as the Whisperer shadowwalked.