“The academy grounds contain more than just the academy itself,” Jerath added, watching the peak with us. “The Temple of the Creator is inside those walls, and the Sacred Sand arena.”
We stood as the barge slowed, I grabbed my bag before anyone else could think of touching it. The large water vessel eventually came to a standstill, and we moved with the rest of the dwellers hurrying to get their feet on solid ground again. They herded us toward a path carved into the side of the small mountain, and we climbed right to another set of gates. Two more sols stood guard, just as they had at the entrance to Blesswood. I looked up to the top of the wall and caught another sol face, briefly appearing over the edge.
“This everyone?” one of the guards grunted at Jerath.
We had managed to draw to the front of the long procession during our walk up, but it wasn’t because we were particularly braver or stronger or faster than the other dwellers. It was because Emmy was particularly braver, stronger, and faster than the other dwellers, and she had been dragging me again. She was standing there now, not a single wrinkle in her expression as she brushed her hair over her shoulder and stood straight for the inspection of the guard. I was wheezing, my hands on my knees. The guard also inspected me, a small, sardonic smile on his face, before running his eyes down to the end of our procession.
“Go on in,” he announced, jerking his head to the side and moving out of the way.
This was it. I was stepping into what would be Emmy’s home for the rest of her life, and what would be my home for probably about half a sun-cycle. Maybe even an entire sun-cycle. All I needed to do was stay away from fire, tar, sharp things, pointy things, serrated things, hot things, breathing things, living things, and sacred things.
I paused, my feet stalling, my eyes flying wide. We had stepped into a courtyard with multihued stones underfoot and a giant, ancient piere tree standing in the middle, breaking up the cobblestones with thick, papery-white, gnarled roots. It figured that it was twice the size of the ancient piere tree back home, and that there were several more that I could see, spread around the winding cobbled pathways leading between academy buildings. It wasn’t the tree that had surprised me, though. It was the guy tied to the tree, and the guy standing before him, holding up a crossbow. He was blindfolded, and the guy tied to the tree was laughing. They were clearly sols, because they were bigger than normal dweller men. Bigger, even, than what I would have expected of a sol. The one tied to the tree looked just a little older than me, his bright eyes sparkling with laughter. I wanted to draw closer, to see the colour of his eyes, or to confirm that his hair actually was the stunning meld of golden-black that it appeared to be from this distance. He glanced over as the dwellers behind us also came to a stop, and he started to laugh even harder.
“Turn!” he shouted.
The guy with the crossbow raised his arm, aiming the bolt directly at the other’s chest, before slowly turning.
Turning … to face us.
Jerath made a groaning sound, but nobody did anything to stop the crazy sol. He had the same golden tarnish to his hair as the one tied to the tree, though it was more golden-red, and his skin was a shade more tanned. He was also built like he tore up trees from the ground for a fun hobby. The blindfold over his eyes seemed to mask his face more than just his eyes, but I could still make out the infinitesimal smirk twisting his lips.
“Stop!” the one tied to the tree shouted.
The crossbow—and the guy holding it—paused. The bolt quivered … and everyone turned to stare at me, because it was now pointed directly at me.
“Don’t mind them,” Jerath consoled, taking a step back.
“Are you seriously saying that while you move away from me?” I hissed out quietly.
“Those are the Abcurse brothers—or two of them anyway. Coen has a gift for Pain, and Siret has a gift for Trickery.”
“The one that has a gift for pain … is he the one holding the crossbow by any chance?”
“Yeah …”
“Really?” I groaned, even though my heart was kicking up a riot inside my chest and my eyes were fixed to the annoyingly still crossbow bolt. “I didn’t even last one step into Blesswood.”