TWENTY-FIVE #2
I shiver, tugging my coat more tightly to block the rain. At least it isn’t snowing.
Bishop leads me toward the far side of the compound, past a line of crumbling plinths and a stone wall half strangled by ivy, toward a trail worn into the side of one of the mountains that guard the rear of the campus.
My leg muscles strain as the path steepens, and the ground grows muddier and less traveled the higher we climb.
I glance behind us and find most of the buildings below hidden in the cloud bank, only glimpses of their roofs and thin plumes of chimney smoke remaining visible.
“Where are we going?” I glance around. Knowing Bishop, he probably plans to spend the first eight hours providing me with safety instructions and lecturing me on the importance of following the rules.
“Don’t you trust me?”
A nonanswer. How shocking.
It’s not like we’ve had a lot of time to work on our fledgling trust since that horrible night. But being here feels like the first step. “I’m working on it.”
This earns me a smile, but the bastard still doesn’t tell me where we’re headed, only, “It’s a shortcut.”
“Where?” I grumble. “To the void itself?” The steep incline makes it feel like we’re high enough to be swallowed by the Night’s Scar, just two more stars for it to suck into its abyss.
But we climb even higher, boots crunching when the mud gives way to patchy grass and rock. We’re so high above the Bellatorum, even the smoke from its kitchen and smith fires are lost in the foggy haze.
Bishop finally slows when we reach a small cascade jetting from a large fissure in the mountainside above us.
The waterfall cuts across our path and tumbles alarmingly out of sight.
A series of large stones, just big enough to fit one boot, are set into the crashing water, forming a cross between a path and a sick joke.
I stop and plant my feet on the solid ground that’s on this side of falling to certain death. “Where are you taking me?”
But Bishop crosses the swiftly moving stream in quick, confident strides before turning to me with one foot on the last stone and one on the far bank, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as I creep slowly behind him.
He extends an arm toward me when I reach the second to last stone, and I feel a stab of annoyance.
Before I can doubt myself, I grind my teeth and vault over to a slightly smaller stone, nearly as close to the bank as the one he’s still on.
I try to look like I know exactly what I’m doing—right as I lose momentum and gravity starts to yank me backward.
Panic flashes across his face as my arms shoot out to steady me, the single leg planted beneath me trembling with the effort it takes to maintain my balance barely long enough for me to push off the stone toward the bank.
I’m going to clear it. My heart leaps but falls just as sharply when I realize I’ll land in a slick of mud.
One of my boots slips off the bank, dipping into the frigid water, but I right myself quickly. I take a few brisk strides forward, a bit too embarrassed to look back at him.
“I’m not carrying your stubborn ass if you break your leg,” he mumbles under his breath as he stalks past me a few seconds later.
I brace for another of his signature lectures, but he only continues along the path, which bends as it meets a tall stone wall covered in so much lichen and bird dross that it might as well be part of the mountain itself. He stops at a gap in it and squeezes through.
As soon as we’re on the other side, I realize where we are.
“You brought me to the most sacred place in Vennaro to train?” I ask flatly.
But he continues, climbing the last steep bit of ground between the wall’s perimeter and the relatively flat courtyard that leads into the astrolatory.
“Don’t worry, we’ll train outside unless the rain picks up,” he says evenly.
That’s probably for the best. I don’t need another reason for the Stars to hate me.
The astrolatory rises directly out of the mountain as if its stone grew tired of being earthbound and reached toward the Stars itself.
Part of the mountain slope has been sheared flat to make room for it, the rest left raw and jagged.
The astrolatory’s thick walls are broken only by tall lancet windows carved so narrowly into the stone that they seem more defensive than functional.
I can’t see the whole roof from here. Only glimpses of its arched panes, the glass catching the bits of sunlight breaking through the morning clouds. Two stone wolves with elegant, curving horns guard either side of the huge slab door at the entrance.
The courtyard spread before the statues is a wide, bare expanse of paving rock and wild grass hemmed in by the retaining wall that slopes upward to brace the astrolatory against the mountain.
On the far side from where we’re standing, another passage is worn into the earth.
I frown at the wagon ruts that disappear around the bend of the mountain.
“What are those?” I point to what is obviously a freaking road.
He smiles as he ties his hair with a length of leather cord. “That?” He shrugs. “That’s the easy way to get here.”
I bite my lip to keep from telling him that we might need to take the easy way unless he plans on allowing me nap time whenever he drags me up here to train.
Bishop heads into the astrolatory despite his promise to train outside.
The threat of blasphemy clearly doesn’t faze him.
The weather-worn door opens into a narrow vestibule that offers the barest peek of the ceremonial chamber beyond.
Though some have gone out, many of the torches flicker with white flames, the sconces carved with nochtimetric patterns to keep the fire alive.
But it’s the weapon racks filled with swords and daggers—and other deadly things I don’t know the names of—hanging on the walls that catch me off guard.
“Void me. What do you do during your rituals?” I ask slowly as he takes down a sword.
Bishop flips it over in his hand like he’s testing the weight. “We don’t bother with most of that shit, apart from Petitions and Kindlings. The occasional local ritual.” He frowns and replaces the sword before choosing another. “Everyone is free to come here, but it’s usually empty.”
“And we wouldn’t want such a perfectly usable space to go to waste.” I shake my head. “Have you ever considered building one that doesn’t require a two-mile hike to reach?”