Chapter 51
Ellowyn
The temperature warmed considerably as we trekked south through Thysalen; it was a wonder to me that the climate and terrain could change so drastically in such a short amount of time.
The area surrounding Vespera was relatively flat and devoid of thick forests.
The southern part of Thysalen, however, was completely different—the terrain undulated while trees taller than some of the buildings in Vespera towered over our group, and I gazed in open-mouthed wonder as we traveled through a portion of what Leal called the Runewood.
“We won’t venture further into it. Not without a guide,” she whispered reverently.
“Why is that?” I asked, still craning my neck this way and that, trying to absorb the sheer enormity of the trees that surround our group. Some of the trunks were easily five people wide, their branches and leaves so dense that the sun barely trickled to the forest floor.
“It’s full of magic,” Leal explained. “Old magic. Not the kind that we can use or channel. Blood Magic.”
“Like runes?” My eyes snagged on movement just beyond the tree line where the forest turned dark and dense, but I blinked and it was still again.
Leal snorted. “It’s not called the Runewood for nothing.”
I chewed my lip as my neck prickled with the feeling of being watched.
“Is it . . . inhabited? Are we safe?”
“As long as we stick to this path”—Leal gestured to the ground beneath our horses’ hooves—“and don’t follow the sound of whistling, we’ll be fine.
” The path was well worn, a deep groove in an otherwise smooth and untouched forest floor.
If I squinted hard enough, I was certain I could see small, almost undetectable runes engraved on the outside of the path.
Faylinn would love this place.
“Myrefall is just on the other side of this part of the Runewood. It’s not that deep here and is really the quickest way between Vespera and Myrefall; it’s the only reason we took this path, I would imagine,” Leal said thoughtfully.
“Samyr and Lishahl are on the other side of the Runewood, right?” I asked, suddenly recalling with almost stunning clarity the maps I’d been shown and taught in Katiska.
My memory was a funny thing—I’d suppressed what I’d done to Finian and Peytor so well that I had inadvertently forgotten other important details.
Like the geography of Elyria.
Some queen I’ll make, I thought derisively.
“Lishahl is surrounded by the Runewood on its entire eastern line. Samyr is technically accessible by its most southeastern border, but it’s so heavily guarded that it’s easier and safer to traverse through the Runewood to reach it.”
“That’s why relations are so important with those two territories then,” I mused quietly, and Leal grunted.
“It’s also why the rebel presence in the north is . . . unnerving. If they take both Lishahl and Samyr, it stands to reason that their hold in Elyria would be much stronger than Vespera’s.”
I hummed softly, lost in thought.
“Look!” Tine exclaimed from behind. I ripped my gaze away from the forest to see a break in the tree line.
The trees at the end of the path had grown together in a tilted way that resembled the shape of an arch.
Whispers and gasps ignited through the ranks of cadets as, one by one, we passed beneath the marvel of nature.
“Old magic,” Leal whispered, her fingers clenching around the hilt of a dagger, as we slowly walked beneath the bent limbs of trees as old as Elyria itself.
There were hundreds, if not thousands, of runes carved and burned into the trunks of the trees—the bark growing in those areas to take on the shape of the rune.
It was terrifyingly beautiful, and I could feel the sharp pulse of magic as we passed through. My breath expelled in a rush, the hairs raising on my arms as my heart pounded beneath my breast. There was something sentient about that gate—something that called to the blood within my veins.
I shivered slightly, my gaze constantly pulled back to the arch of trees even as we crested a final hill, pulling the natural wonder from sight.
Turning back forward in my saddle, I caught an odd look from both Leal and Alois. I averted both of their gazes, afraid of what I would see in their eyes.
Am I crazy? Did no one else feel that magic?
Judging by the carefree laughs and easy conversations flowing around us, I’d say the answer to my questions were “yes” and “no.”
Great. Just another thing that makes me different.
We crested a final hill, and I gasped for what felt like the hundredth time today.
I really need to get out more.
Spread before us, sprawling and tall, was Myrefall, unlike any city I’d seen. Where Vespera was all stone and surrounded by a thick wall, and Katiska was almost a quaint village, Myrefall looked like it was literally built into the Runewood itself. The closer we got, the more details emerged.
Tall trees—taller than even the ones we passed through—dominated the landscape; built between the forest giants were hanging wooden bridges that connected tree-to-tree.
Small round structures were built around each of the trunks at various intervals.
Some rested on the ground while others were built so high in the air, I had to crane my neck to glimpse their faint outlines.
There was a small village erected on the forest floor, mainly corrals for horses and animals.
Lex held up his fist, indicating for our group to halt.
A few cadets either didn’t see his signal or didn’t know its meaning because there was a moment where a few horses collided with the riders in front of them, causing a bit of a ruckus.
The frustration was evident on Lex’s face, and I felt a twinge of sympathy.
There was a long way to go in training these recruits. Somehow, I knew that just seeing a battlefield wasn’t going to fix the ever-growing list of issues.
“Dismount and walk your horses from here. There is a public corral which we will use for the night. We have already secured you rooms in the tavern located on the tree with this symbol,” Lex held up a piece of paper with a dark charcoal outline of what looked like a swooping S.
“You will be bunking with your riding partner from today. You may relax and enjoy yourselves for the rest of the evening”—Lex had to yell the next part to be heard over the whoops of delight—“but you are to conduct yourself in a manner befitting the Academy. If I hear a whisper of unbecoming actions, you will be discharged from the Academy and left here. Am I understood?”
A chorus of grumbled “yes, Mage d’Talionis,” sounded, and Lex curtly nodded his head in response.
“We will meet back outside the corral at 0300 sharp,” he barked to another chorus of groans and grumbles.
I hid my smile beneath my hand at Lex’s clear disgruntlement.
He was much older than this troupe of recruits, and the age difference was incredibly apparent.
It was evident the cadets saw the night in Myrefall as a chance to let loose and partake in all kinds of revelry.
The exhaustion writ in Lex’s expression betrayed his desperate need for a bed and a bath.
We dismounted and gently led our horses into the public corral, thanking the gruff-looking Earth Vessel that guarded the entrance and took our coin. I waddled the whole way, not wanting to rub my chaffing legs together.
The pain was sharp and throbbing, but was nothing a warm bath and a bed couldn’t handle. The ride tomorrow, though, would be a different story. I was certain I’d be sore and stiff in the morning, and there was no doubt the beginning of blisters on my thighs would grow and burst by tomorrow evening.
And then we have a two days’ ride home—if we push like we did today.
“Drinks at the tavern?” Tine sidled up next to Leal and I, his brother hanging slightly behind his shoulder.
I exchanged a quick wordless glance with Leal before shrugging my shoulders. “Why not?”
My bath and bed could wait—the chance to explore Myrefall and engage socially with people my own age without my husband’s shadow or mother’s expectations was too exciting a prospect to ignore.
“And then I told him that if he wanted a sausage that desperately, I had one right here”—Tine pulled at his crotch—“he could stick in his mouth.”
The table of cadets roared with laughter at Tine’s story. Leal snorted into her ale while Talamh rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his brother’s antics. I smiled, basking in the revelry and camaraderie that surrounded the table.
The boys had been through a few drinks at this point—empty mugs filled our table—and even Leal imbibed harder than I expected.
There was a target board in the corner of the room, and we quickly discovered that Leal was not just an Air Mage, her aim with throwing daggers was lethal.
She twirled one constantly between the fingers of her left hand while her right clutched her ale.
“Mages with low power levels need to have another way of defending themselves,” she explained with a shrug when I asked why she was so comfortable with the knives.
“Especially in the lower districts,” Leal muttered into her ale so quietly I almost couldn’t hear her. I chose not to press her for more information; her business and history were her own, and I would not appreciate spilling my guts in a tavern to people who were still nearly strangers.
There were too many secrets I held; too many things I’d done that I didn’t want revealed and dissected.
And, to an even greater degree, I had little idea how to behave in this type of environment.
My “friends” in Katiska were always approved by my parents, and none of them were from this part of society.
So I sat silently, sipped my wine occasionally—I much preferred the plummy drink to the fire disguised as alcohol Alois gave me—and laughed at the appropriate parts of the twins’ stories.
Occasionally, I twisted the gold band on my finger, but for the most part, I tried to relax. Blend in.