The Black River Chronicles: Level One (Black River Academy Book 1)

by David Tallerman

“Fine,” Hule replied. “There's no reason you would. Still, maybe you can at least see how difficult these last few months have been. The thing is, this character I'd made up…it turns out that's not even what you need to be a good fighter. Within a week I'd persuaded everyone that I hadn't a thimbleful of brains.

  “But then I discovered how much they expect you to know, to read and study and—well, what was I meant to do? Either I admitted I'd been faking all the time and they thought I was mad, or I kept on the same way and hardly got a single question right. I knew it was too late to confess, so that just left failing half of my lessons.”

  “That still doesn't explain,” Durren said, “why you had to stab me in the back.” He was finding it more and more difficult to hang onto his anger in the face of Hule's increasingly absurd confession.

  “Doesn't it?” Hule asked. “How else was I ever going to come to Borgnin's attention? I thought perhaps he'd raise my level as a reward, and then maybe that could be a new start. I could use the opportunity to begin doing better at my classes.”

  Tia had been silent all this while, her gaze levelled upon Hule, her face unreadable as always. Now, however, she said with weary amusement, “Hule, for someone who's spent three months pretending to be an idiot, you really are an idiot.”

  Partly it was her words and partly the look on Hule's face, but regardless of everything that had happened and of how furious he'd been just minutes ago, Durren couldn't help but laugh at that. Tia was smiling too, and when she saw that Durren had noticed, she finally lost control. Hule, meanwhile, looked as if he might happily have strangled the pair of them. Yet the more helpless their hilarity became, the more his frown drifted into a smirk. Then abruptly all three of them were laughing helplessly.

  Durren was the last to stop. He'd almost grown hysterical by the end, and now his sides were aching and his eyes watering. The entire situation was too preposterous. All this time that he'd been pretending to be the most average ranger in the academy, Hule had been feigning idiocy. Now Durren was being kicked out, not through any malice on Hule's part but only because, like Durren, he had backed himself into a corner he could see no way out of. That was such a stupid reason for all of Durren's dreams to come crashing down that he could hardly take it seriously.

  Hule, though, now that his own fit of laughter had passed, did look grave. “Durren,” he said, “I really am sorry. It was a lousy thing to do. And it didn't even work; Borgnin just scowled at me after I'd told him, like it was the worst thing I could have done.”

  “Because it was,” Tia pointed out.

  Hule hung his head. “I know.”

  Durren hunted for the last dregs of his anger, realised they were nowhere to be found. This was as close to forgiving Hule as he was likely to come. “I'm not saying it's all right,” he said, “but I suppose the truth was going to come out eventually. I couldn't possibly have gone five whole years without being discovered somehow. And I suppose I can understand what it's been like for you, living a ridiculous lie all this time. So, not that it matters, because I won't be here in two weeks' time, but…” And he offered Hule his hand.

  The fighter clasped Durren's outstretched palm, gave a cautious smile. Hule even looked less stupid now; he was hard to recognise for the same person Durren had known over the last few weeks.

  Tia cleared her throat. “All right. Now that that's done with, perhaps the two of you can start thinking about something other than yourselves.”

  Durren released Hule's grip and turned to her. “You do understand that I've been expelled, don't you? I mean, that's quite serious.”

  “I'm sure you'll survive,” Tia told him dismissively. “And like you said, it was sure to happen sooner or later. But in the meantime, I could use your help—all the more so since you don't have anything to lose.”

  That didn't exactly sound promising. Whatever Tia's opinions to the contrary, Durren felt that he had a great deal left to lose. Still, he had no desire to incur her scorn—and after today, he realised, he owed her one. She'd shown more forbearance when he'd falsely accused her than he'd ever have expected, and were it not for her, his confrontation with Hule could have gone very differently.

  At any rate, Tia seemed content to take his silence for agreement. “That's good,” she said. “Because I'm going to prove that there's something suspicious going on here at Black River. I'm going to get to the bottom of these quests we've been sent on, and I'm finding out who's to blame. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I can't do any of that without your help.”

  13

  H

  ule and Durren waited in the herb garden, amid growing darkness and uncomfortable silence. Tia seemed to have been gone for an age. All she'd said by way of explanation was that this was a conversation the entire party needed to be involved in.

  When she returned, it was with a timid-looking Arein in tow. The dwarf girl looked as though she'd been summoned with no explanation at all, and seemed shocked to see Hule and Durren waiting in this out-of-the-way spot. “Oh, hello,” she said.

  Tia had also acquired a small lantern from somewhere, and she set it down in their midst, so that its glow illuminated all their faces from beneath. They looked, thought Durren, like a group of conspirators in a play, perhaps gathered to plot the murder of some fiendish king. It was an exciting notion, and went some way to dispelling the nervousness he felt at the strange situation. For all that he was beginning to trust Tia, she certainly had a roguish way of going about things.

  “You all know what we're here to discuss,” she said.

  Hule put his hand up. “Um, I don't.”

  Tia sighed. “I thought we were past all that?”

  “No,” Hule told her, “I really don't know what you're talking about. And if I don't get back to my dormitory soon, then I'm going to be in real trouble.”

  “I told you before,” Tia said, sounding even more exasperated. “There's something not right about these quests. Honestly, Hule, are you sure you weren't just pretending that you've been pretending to be stupid?”

  “I'm sure.” Hule sounded genuinely hurt. “All right, look, I know you had some questions about that last one. But Cullglass has said he'll look into it, and I don't see what more we can do.”

  “He said the same about Blackwing,” Arein put in, “and nothing came of that.”

  “Maybe it did. Maybe he just didn't get the chance to tell us because you were already pestering him about something else.” This time it was Hule's turn to sigh. “I'm just saying, we should give him a chance. Perhaps in a few days we can go and talk to him, and then with a bit of luck he'll have some answers, and these things you're worrying about will turn out to be one big mistake.”

  “There's more going on here, Hule,” Tia said, “and I think you know it.”

  “I'm not saying there isn't. I'm saying, we're just four students, and this is an academy, and there are ways of going about things. I don't need any more trouble than I have already, and I'm sure Durren feels the same.”

  The way Tia rounded on Durren, you'd have thought he was the one who'd doubted her. “Do you?”

  “No!” Durren replied hastily. He would have liked to leave his answer there—but he couldn't, he realised. He genuinely didn't know which of them was right. Yes, their last two quests had left him wondering, and yes, it bothered him that they might have kidnapped an innocent unicorn and stolen from a bunch of perfectly well-meaning priests. Yet Hule made a good point; he really was in more than enough trouble as things were. “Only…” he began, and then had no idea how to continue.

  The look Tia gave him didn't help in the slightest. “Only?”

  “Only,” he tried, “we have to be realistic. I mean, it's just possible that Black River isn't everything we expected it to be. Maybe, sometimes—well, maybe this is just what quests are like.”

  Durren glanced round at the others. He'd expected Tia's barely subdued crossness, but the disappointment he saw in Arein's face was much worse.


  “You don't mean that,” she said.

  “I don't know if I do or I don't. Look, I think that Black River is basically a good place, or I wouldn't be here. Certainly I always believed that they try to help people. But…well, this is the real world. Tia, you know that better than anyone. How many rogues are going to find their way to the capital, and what sort of things will they be doing there? And you, Hule; won't most of the students from your class end up in one army or another? That might mean the Brazen Fist, but it might also mean mercenaries fighting out past the borders. Even wizards, Arein—not all wizards are as good-hearted as you. Magic can be a weapon, and that's precisely how some of your classmates will end up using it.”

  He'd said more than he'd meant to—more than he would willingly have admitted to himself. The way he'd described the academy was nothing like the way he'd always thought of it, and he much preferred the idealised version his past self had believed in.

  “You're right,” Tia said, “Black River isn't perfect. It isn't meant to be. I know what this place is, Durren, better than most. Still, it's one thing to train people in skills that they might use to do harm, quite another to encourage them to. And to the best of my knowledge, the academy has never sent students out on quests that actually broke royal law, or suggested they pursue anything but the more upstanding careers. So if it should turn out that we wrongfully stole from that monastery then we really do have a problem. After all, it was our faces they saw, not Adocine Borgnin's.”

  “That's a good point,” Hule admitted. He sounded less than comfortable with the notion.

  “Now,” Tia continued, “I'm going to find out what's behind these last two quests. If everything turns out to be aboveboard then I'll be as happy as anyone, and likewise if Cullglass keeps his promise. But in the meantime, I don't see any reason why we shouldn't ask a few questions ourselves. I can't make any of you help me, but I'm also not asking you to break any rules, so there's no good reason you shouldn't.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Durren asked. He realised that he really did want to help Tia; but that desire didn't make his trepidation go away. What troubled him, he saw now, was the prospect of leaving Black River under an even darker cloud than he was already. But, perhaps more than that, it was the thought that what he'd said before might be right. What if the academy wasn't everything he'd believed it to be? What if Borgnin wasn't the honest and upright figure Durren had thought—or Atrepis even? He had wanted so badly to believe that these people, this place, were better than his father and the world of greed and unkindness he moved in.

  “First I want to know if you're in,” Tia said.

  Durren nearly asked her what she was so suspicious of. But if today had proved one thing, it was that the four of them couldn't altogether trust one another. “All right,” he said. “If you promise we'll stay within academy rules then, yes, I'll do what I can.”

  “Me too,” Arein said quickly, with a glance towards Hule.

  The fighter shrugged dejectedly. “Fine,” he said. “I suppose things can't get much worse.”

  Tia nodded—and something in the gesture told Durren that those were the answers she'd been anticipating all along. “Then what we need is information,” she said. “Arein, I'd like you to study the magical side of this. Find out whatever you can about the Petrified Egg: what it really is, where it came from, why anyone might want to steal it. Look into unicorns, too, and see if there's any kind of a connection.”

  “I can do that,” Arein agreed.

  “Hule,” Tia said, “I want you to investigate our first quest. Was that treasure the rat-kind were hiding really hijacked from a merchant caravan? If so, who were they and how did they lose it? And what came of the matter, if anything? Was the chest ever recovered?”

  “Fine,” Hule acknowledged, without much enthusiasm.

  “As for you, Durren, you get the easiest job: I want you to talk to some of the rangers and get an idea of the sorts of quests that other first-level parties have been sent on. We need to know if anyone else has the same concerns we do. Maybe none of us want to believe that this is how Black River secretly does business, but if it is, then it's better we find out sooner rather than later.”

  “All right,” Durren said. Since he'd failed to make a single friend from among his classmates in the time he'd been here, that mission wasn't half so easy as she'd made out—but he wasn't about to admit that to Tia.

  “Good. Then let's give it—what?—four days. I'll send word about when and where we'll meet. In the meantime, it's probably best that none of us speak to each other.”

  “Wait,” Durren said, “what about you? What are you going to be doing while we're asking all these questions?”

  “You don't need to know that.” Tia bent to pick up the lantern. “I'll be in touch.” She opened the hatch, licked her fingers, snuffed out the wick—and darkness flooded in upon them.

  By the time Durren's eyes had adjusted to the starlit gloom, Tia was gone.

  Only after he, Arein and Hule had separated, as he was wandering back through the dimly lit passages, did Durren begin to consider what he was getting himself into. He'd thought his situation couldn't get any worse after his meeting with Borgnin, but he was beginning to see how wrong he'd been. Borgnin had a great many punishments at his disposal, and even if Durren was only going to be here for another few days, the Head Tutor had the means to make that time particularly dreadful. Maybe asking inappropriate questions was all it would take to draw the wrong attention—especially if there really was some sordid secret just waiting to be discovered.

  Still, Durren had given his word, and he wasn't about to break it. Now more than ever, keeping his promises seemed important. Perhaps he wasn't going to be a ranger for very much longer, but that didn't change the values he'd set for himself.

  However, he didn't make any headway that night. Durren strongly suspected that word had already got around about his expulsion. Even if it hadn't, the other students had seen him being marched out by Atrepis, and he didn't at all like the curious looks he was attracting.

  But by morning, after a night involving much feeling sorry for himself and little actual sleep, Durren had decided he didn't much care what anyone thought. After all, the one advantage of expulsion was the knowledge that, in two weeks' time, no one's opinion of his character was going to matter a great deal.

  That still left the problem of just how he was meant to go about the task Tia had assigned him. Perhaps it was that he'd been afraid of drawing attention, or maybe just that he'd rarely met anyone he'd liked enough to talk to back in his old life at Luntharbour, but whatever the case, Durren had made little effort to be friendly with his fellow rangers. Now, after three months, and though common sense dictated that it was far too late to do so, he was going to have to at least try.

  That first day, he focused on basic pleasantries. He said hello to as many people as he could, and in archery practise and wrestling class threw compliments and commiserations around with wild abandon. He grasped any opportunity to help out if it meant a chance to swap words with one student or another, and laughed at every joke that anyone made, no matter how unfunny. Probably they all thought he'd gone mad, but Durren decided he could live with that.

  At any rate, he found that he was enjoying himself. This new, sociable persona was significantly more fun than his old one had been. And at least half the time, his attempts were met with good humour. By evening, he realised the day had been among the best he'd spent at Black River. He felt full of energy, his mind already working on what he might say tomorrow and to whom. As he lay in bed, waiting for sleep to claim him, those thoughts were almost enough to distract him from the sword of expulsion descending by degrees towards his neck.

  Over the next couple of days, Durren shifted his approach towards the lines of enquiry Tia had told him to pursue—and his questioning grew cannier. You could learn a lot just from listening, he discovered, and then still more by applying what you'd learned. Overhearing a c
onversation between two students allowed him to ask around about a particularly successful quest to rescue two stranded children from a fangspider warren out past Thornfurrow. That in turn led to discussion of a mission into underground ruins to recover rare ancient artworks. And the more interest Durren expressed, the more people seemed willing to share. Once you knew how to broach the topic, gossiping about quests was something students didn't need much encouragement at all to do.

  Finally, the evening of the fourth day came around. Durren had seen nothing of Tia, Arein or Hule, and had resisted the impulse to look for them in the dining hall. In terms of Tia's assignment, that day had been by far the most productive. The other rangers were growing used to his questions now, and the friendlier ones seemed to have interpreted his sudden inquisitiveness as a thinly veiled attempt to make up for his earlier standoffishness.

  Maybe they weren't altogether wrong. As well as the details Tia had set him hunting, Durren had also learned a few salient facts about himself and his soon-to-be curtailed life at Black River. For the most part, his fellow rangers were nothing like the brattish, self-absorbed youths that his father had foisted on him back in Luntharbour. Rather, they were smart, interesting people, eager to learn and excited about their class of choice.

  Now Durren knew that, along with all his other regrets, he could also reproach himself for having missed the opportunity to make new friends. It would be all the harder to feign pleasantness with callow merchants' sons, and he doubted he'd even try.

  At any rate, he'd done what Tia had asked of him—and, so far as he was concerned, had done it well. But by the time the first evening bell sounded, there was still no word from her. Perhaps, he thought, she'd been showing off when she'd said she would contact them, only to realise later that getting messages to three students in three different wings of Black River was no easy matter, even for a rogue.

  With the day's classes done, Durren wandered back to the dormitory. Having exchanged a few words with a couple of students he was getting on particularly well with, he flopped onto his mattress and fished out the book he'd borrowed from the library. The tome was a manual on fletching, and he was finding it surprisingly interesting. Back home he'd always made his own arrows, and now he had vague, impractical thoughts of a career in that direction when his time at Black River was up.