The Academy Journals Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 3)

by Garrett Robinson

  Xain fixed him with a look. “Because you knew you would need it against Isra,” he said quietly. “And because you knew she held my son. Words will be had—with the King’s law, as well as between us. You are not free from all penalty, Drayden. But I will not let the mindmage girl suffer any longer when she only tried to save my own blood. Come.”

  Lilith took Ebon’s arm again, and he felt her hands trembling. He helped her make her shaky way down the bell tower steps after Xain.

  THE REST OF THAT NIGHT passed like some nightmare, a memory in reverse of when Ebon had gone with Theren to fetch Lilith from the hands of the Mystics. Only this time Theren had not suffered so greatly, for she had not suffered under mindwyrd as Lilith had.

  They all returned to the Academy, and there Lilith helped Theren to bed. But Xain took Ebon aside and brought him to his office, demanding to know everything.

  For the first time, Ebon spoke freely of Isra. He told Xain what had happened in the dean’s home and how Erin had been stolen away in the first place. He told Xain of how Theren had used the amulet of Kekhit upon Dasko, and repeated the tale of how they had seen Isra in the kitchens, and now Xain believed him. He said nothing of Mako, of course, nor his uncle Matami, nor anything to do with the family, for some secrets were not his to tell. Neither did he mention Adara, but when he came to that portion of the tale, he only spoke of going into hiding somewhere in the city. Though Xain’s eyes flashed with interest, he held his peace. And at last Ebon told him how he guessed where Isra must be hiding, and came to find her.

  When he had finished, Xain stared into the candle on his desk for a long while. In the end he said only, “I see.”

  Ebon’s brows raised. He tried to hold his tongue, but as another silence stretched he felt compelled to speak. “Is that all?”

  Xain’s mouth worked as though he were chewing upon his own thoughts. “I understand what you have done, Drayden. I even understand why you did it, and your motives were nowhere near so dark as I thought. Yet you have committed crimes—crimes that can carry with them grave punishments.”

  Ebon tried to hold his head high, but he could feel himself shaking, and knew Xain must see it. “Will those punishments be meted out?”

  Xain shook his head, and Ebon’s heart leaped—but when the dean spoke, his hopes were dashed. “I cannot say. At least not now. This is a matter for the morning.”

  He stood and bid Ebon to return to his dormitory and sleep. Ebon obeyed—or tried to. He lay awake for hours before giving up and going to the common room, where he stared at the flames until morning light showed through the windows. The moment they did, he rose and traversed the Academy’s halls, making for the western wards.

  Jia sat in a chair outside the door to the healing ward when he arrived. She sagged in her seat, her head drooping, but the moment she spotted him coming she straightened and stood.

  “Ebon,” she said, nodding stiffly. “I am glad to see you well.”

  He stopped before her, lifting his chin and giving her a formal half-bow. “And you, Instructor. I much prefer our meetings when you are not trying to throw me before the King’s law.”

  Jia’s nostrils flared. “I prefer it when you and your friends are not holding a member of the faculty under mindwyrd.”

  His face fell, and his mouth worked for a moment as he fought for words to say. In the end, the only thing he could muster was a strangled “I spoke only in jest.”

  She softened, but only a little. “I know why you did it, Ebon. But sky above … what were you thinking? How could you be so foolish? Do you have any idea what it did to Dasko?”

  Tears sprang into his eyes as he turned from her. “I do,” he said. “I wish I had not … that I had not asked Theren to …” He stopped before his voice broke.

  Jia let the silence rest for a moment. “We can reflect on what we might have done,” she said at last. “But that is of limited use. Look to your future instead. You must be better from here on. If you are truly sorry, then you must never be so foolish again. And you must do what you can, now, to make it right.”

  He swiped his sleeve against his eyes. “I will, Instructor,” he whispered. “I promise.”

  She waited until he met her gaze, and he saw that her eyes shone as well. “I believe you.”

  Then the door to the healing ward opened, and by unspoken agreement they looked away from each other. A plump older woman stepped out into the hallway and fixed Ebon with a look.

  “You are the transmutation student, I imagine?” she said, frowning.

  “I am,” he said. “Is she all right? I have come to see her.”

  The healer’s eyes widened. “Not likely. She needs rest and time. The madness of mindwyrd was set deep within her, for she wished to believe the lies she was fed. She will not be ready for visitors for a while yet.”

  Ebon frowned—but over the healer’s shoulder, he saw Jia trying to catch his eye. As soon as he looked at her, she nodded and took the healer by the shoulder. “Freya,” she said. “I have been working on a poultice that I wanted your opinion on. Could you come and take a look at it for me?”

  Freya turned to Ebon a final time and said, “Come back once a week has passed, hm? We will see if she is ready to see anyone then.”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am,” said Ebon, nodding quickly. He meandered off down the hall in the other direction, but slowly, while Jia led Freya away. Once the two of them were out of sight, he stole back towards the healing ward’s door and slipped inside.

  He saw Astrea at once, for all the other beds in the ward were empty. She glanced at him as he came in. If she was surprised to see him, she did not show it. Indeed, her face did not show any emotion at all. And when Ebon approached her bed, she turned away towards the tall windows that covered the far wall. The pink light of morning painted her face in its glow.

  “Hello,” said Ebon quietly. “How are you feeling?”

  She gave him no answer.

  Ebon sighed. “You … you have heard what happened by now, I suppose. Or you can guess it.”

  “Isra is dead,” said Astrea. “You killed her.”

  “I did not—” But Ebon stopped himself and bowed his head. “Yes. I did, in part. I beg you to believe me when I say that she would have killed me if we had not stopped her.”

  “You do not know that,” whispered Astrea.

  Again he wanted to answer, but again he held his tongue. Instead he asked another question. It had run through his mind endlessly in the common room as he stared into the flames.

  “When I saw you in the vaults,” he said. “I asked you if you were under her mindwyrd. You said you were not. That was not a lie, was it?”

  Slowly she turned until their eyes met. The silence between them stretched into a chasm.

  Ebon’s eyes fell away first. “I do not blame you,” he said softly. “I have wanted so badly to believe in people before. It is not your fault, what Isra did. It is not. Do you understand?”

  “She did nothing wrong,” said Astrea.

  Ebon let that hang there for a moment. Then he said the other thing on his mind. “An alchemist created Isra’s corpse,” he said. “The one they found in the Great Bay. That alchemist was you.”

  Astrea’s nostrils flared, and for the first time her eyes filled with fear. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “How?” said Ebon. “How could you do it? You are only a second-year student. Kalem said he did not even know of an alchemist in the Academy who could accomplish such a feat.”

  Astrea shrugged. “I … Isra helped me. There was a black glow in her eyes, and she … she told me to. And I did. I could. I obeyed her without even knowing how.”

  Ebon shivered, though he tried to hide it. But just then, the door to the healing ward creaked open. Ebon shot to his feet, expecting a tongue-lashing from Freya. But instead, Xain appeared in the doorway. Ebon’s stomach did a somersault.

  “I … I am sorry for sneaking in,” he said. “I only wanted to see—”

&n
bsp; Xain cut him off with a wave. “Stay your fear, Drayden. I am not here about that. But a matter needs tending to.”

  Something in his tone made Ebon quail. “What matter?”

  To his surprise, Xain grew solemn. “The matter of punishment,” he said quietly. “Come.”

  Ebon’s feet seemed suddenly to be made of lead. He turned back to Astrea upon the bed. “I will come and visit again,” he said. “As soon as I can. Be well, and rest.”

  She turned away once more and gave him no answer. He forced his limbs to move, and followed Xain out the door.

  Xain led him through the halls and towards his office. Ebon wanted to ask him what this was all about, but he also feared to speak, and that fear kept him silent.

  When Xain opened the door, Ebon’s heart sank still further. Within the room were Kalem, Theren, and Lilith. But there, too, was Instructor Dasko. The man sat in a chair, leaning heavily upon the armrest, his chin buried in his fist. He looked up as the door opened, and his eyes fixed on Ebon, and narrowed.

  After he had ushered Ebon in, Xain moved around behind his desk and sat. Ebon took his place beside Theren. She was seated in the other chair and had her arms clutched about herself. She had been cleaned up considerably after Ebon had seen her the night before, but bruises still stood out angrily on her cheeks, and she pulled her sleeves low to hide the cuts and scars on her arms. Lilith stood on Theren’s other side, her hands folded as she studied the floor. Kalem was looking all about the room, licking his lips nervously. Theren’s eyes stared straight ahead—not at Dasko, nor at Xain, but somewhere in between them, and seeing nothing.

  “Now then,” said Xain. “In accordance with my duty as the dean, a matter of punishment must now be resolved. I speak of crimes committed by students in this room, against a member of the Academy’s faculty also present.”

  Silence stretched. If Xain expected Dasko to say anything, he was disappointed, for the instructor only kept his eyes on Theren. Upon the arm of the chair, his fingers had begun to twitch.

  Xain cleared his throat. “For a period of many days, you, Theren, held Instructor Dasko under mindwyrd. You forced him to obey your commands, and through him you spied upon the Academy’s investigations into Isra. You did this to hide your own involvement in the events that took place in my home, in which Isra stole many artifacts that were under the care of the Academy. Those artifacts are yet to be recovered, and are likely lost. Ebon, Kalem, and Lilith—you all knew of the mindwyrd, though Lilith learned later than the rest. You are complicit in the crime, though your punishment, if there is one, will be less.”

  “If there is one?” said Theren, her voice a weak croak.

  “Yes,” said Xain. “Your knowledge of the stolen artifacts is an Academy matter, and therefore under my judgement. In light of the punishment you, Theren, have already received, and your aid in rescuing my son from Isra’s clutches, I have decided to pardon those crimes. But your use of mindwyrd is another matter. Instructor Dasko was your victim, and so it is for him to decide whether you will be punished for using it against him.”

  Ebon’s breath seeped from him in a quiet sigh. But then he saw Dasko’s eyes. The Instructor regarded him with cold scorn. Now he sat straighter in his chair, like a king about to pronounce judgement from his throne.

  “I do not pardon them,” he said. “They will be punished. All of them.”

  “What?” said Ebon. “Instructor, you cannot.”

  “I cannot?” said Dasko. His hand shook where it gripped the arms of his chair. “Do you even know what your schemes have done to me, Ebon? She was inside my mind. My memory is in shambles. Sometimes I forget where I am—I have forgotten who I am, on occasion. I will never remember all the times the three of you dragged me into the garden, when you wiped away my very thoughts, where you took away my will. My mind is not my own, even now. And you tell me that I cannot?”

  Ebon could say nothing. He tried to plead with his eyes, but Dasko’s own were hard and vicious. Silent tears leaked from Theren.

  Xain’s jaw clenched. “Mindwyrd can carry the penalty of death,” he said softly. “Withholding knowledge of it may bring banishment. Do you wish to press for these punishments?”

  The office fell utterly silent for a moment. Ebon’s heart stopped. He will do it. He will sentence Theren to death.

  But though his mouth twisted, Dasko grated out. “No. She need not die for this. But she will be banished from the Academy. They all will.”

  Ebon felt as though a hammer had struck him between the eyes, casting him out of his own body so that he was watching events take place from afar. He could not feel his skin. He could not feel the breath in his chest. Theren’s tears dried at once, as though she had moved to a place beyond grief. But Kalem took her place, casting his gaze into his hands and weeping openly. Even Lilith’s dark skin had gone a shade paler.

  This meant least to her, Ebon knew. She would return to her family, almost a full-fledged wizard already. Kalem had many more years of schooling ahead of him, but he, too, would return to a family who would welcome him, and mayhap they would even find him a private tutor to continue his training. If not, he had gotten far enough in the Academy that he could continue practicing, and mayhap come to the height of his power in time.

  But Theren. Ebon wanted to weep as he saw her there, trying so hard to sit straight in her chair, trying so hard not to let the pain shine through in her eyes. Theren would suffer more than any of them. She would be forced to go home to a patron she hated and who disdained her, and would make her perform mind-numbing toil in court for the rest of her days.

  “No,” said Ebon, softly.

  Dasko’s eyes snapped to him. “You think to countermand me?” he said, voice nearing a shout. “You think that after—”

  Quickly Ebon shook his head. “I did not mean that, Instructor,” he said, his words growing in strength. “I know your anger is justified. But I beg you: do not turn it into punishment against the rest of them. Your mindwyrd was my idea. From the very first. Every day, Kalem argued against it. I had to drag him from Xain’s house the first time we took control. Theren begged me—begged me, Instructor—to stop, to throw the amulet into the Great Bay. She did not suffer as you have suffered, but she suffered enough. And now the Mystics have had days to play their knives across her skin. I put the plan into motion, and I ordered it to continue. Banish me. Punish me even further than that, if you want. But spare the others.”

  That stunned the room to silence. Theren did not look at him, but Kalem did, and Ebon saw tears shining in the boy’s eyes. Lilith showed her gratitude in a small nod, while Xain leaned back as if appraising him. But Ebon’s heart sank as the fury in Dasko’s face only doubled.

  “I believe you,” said Dasko quietly. “I believe you, and I call myself a fool for not seeing it earlier. I came to you before because I thought you might be like your brother. He was a good man, and sought to escape the darkness of your family name. But now I see that he was alone in that. You are a schemer, a trickster, and vile as any of your kin. If the headsman’s axe hovered over your neck instead, I would jump upon it with both feet. But I will not spare your accomplices. Let them learn what it means to follow the will of an evil man.”

  Before Ebon could reply, Theren spoke up. “Followers we might have been, but not equal in sharing the blame,” said Theren. “It was I who controlled you, Dasko. I will vouch for the truth in Ebon’s words—Kalem urged countless times for us to stop, until even I wearied of it. And Lilith has known of it for all of a few days. Punish Ebon, and punish me. The mastermind, and the lackey who did the deed. Spare the others.”

  Dasko’s nostrils flared. He studied her for a long moment, until Ebon was sure he would refuse. At last he shot to his feet and sniffed.

  “Very well,” he said. “The boy and the Yerrin girl may stay. But I hope never to lay eyes upon the other two again.”

  Dasko swept from the room, even as a high whine sprang up at the edge of Ebon’s hearing,
like a scream in his mind.

  He was banished.

  He was banished from the Academy.

  NO ONE IN THE OFFICE moved for a long while. Theren was the first to stir. She fought to gain her feet, and Lilith quickly came forwards to help her. Ebon, too, took an arm. When at last she had risen, she met his eyes.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “This only happened to you because of me.”

  Theren pursed her lips, and then shrugged. “I could not have long remained in any case. But you are right, it would not have happened if not for you.”

  She took a halting, lurching step, aided by Lilith. Ebon held her as best he could, though she did not put much weight upon him. “I am sorry, Theren. Please. There must be something I can do. Mayhap my family …”

  He trailed off as she shook her head slowly. “No. No, let your family be. This is not their doing—not for the most part, anyway.” He knew she was thinking of Mako. “Only be better in the future, Ebon. Remember this, and remember that the false path never leads to a good end.”

  Ebon drew back. But she softened her words by taking his arm, and pulling him close for an embrace. “I do not hate you, Ebon. And I am not leaving tomorrow. We will have time to speak again. But now I must rest.”

  Lilith helped her hobble out the door. Kalem stared at it for a moment. Then he burst into tears and fled into the halls. Ebon meant to go after him, but Xain raised a hand and spoke.

  “A moment, Drayden. I am sure your friends need tending to, but you and I must speak first.”

  “I …” Ebon looked to the door. He considered ignoring Xain’s words and running after Kalem.

  “Give them time,” said Xain, but gently, as if he had heard the thought in Ebon’s mind. “Come.”

  Xain rose and guided Ebon out of the office. He led the way through the halls and out a white cedar door onto the Academy grounds. The hour was still early, and their breath misted in the air. Ebon rubbed his arms against the chill.