The Academy Volume One

by Maxine Mansfield

  Adan roared, “A prince? A great wizard? A learned scholar? The Shermanator? Sometimes it amazes me you two can manage to breathe and walk at the same time. Get back inside the Academy before anyone else sees you, and don’t say another word about the Shermanator to anyone. I don’t have time to deal with this now. We’ll discuss it further and settle it once and for all when I return.”

  The barbarian prince then glared at the halfling. “It’s a good thing you’re going with us. I’d have to kill you right now instead of later, if you weren’t.”

  Sarco shook his head as Sherman stopped staring at the girls and grinning like a fool. He watched his student gulp, pinken, and look toward him, seeking sanctuary. “Forgive me for being late, sir. I was, umm, unavoidably delayed.”

  Uthiel’s coughing and Adan almost jumping off his horse was more than enough to make up for having to wait for the halfling in the first place.

  “It’s quite all right…Lord Sherman. A great prince, famous wizard, and experienced cheesemaking scholar like yourself is worth waiting all day for, if need be.”

  Sherman’s pink cheeks turned a fiery red.

  Sarco squinted his eyes and peered out into the shadows. Now, where was the damn gnome?

  He didn’t have long to wonder as a familiar gravelly voice split the air. “What the shaved bare arse of a rock-climbing, purple-painted Alarian billy goat are ya thinking, lass? I told ya, let go of me leg. I’m late.”

  Sarco wasn’t exactly sure what he’d expected to see when he looked in the direction of the voice, but he knew it couldn’t possibly be the sight he beheld. Leeky limped toward them with his blow-up-doll under one arm, the lead to his horse in his other hand, and Miss Laycee Titwilder bumping along behind with both her hands gripped tightly about his right ankle, clinging on for dear life.

  Sarco stared, wondering if the day could possibly get any stranger.

  “I won’t have it, I tell ya,” Laycee squealed. “Ya won’t be taking that plastic two-bit hussy with ya and leaving me behind.”

  Leeky stopped, set Miss Bunny astride the horse, bent and extracted his ankle from Laycee’s grip and gently helped her to her feet. “Ah, lass, ya know I wish I could take ya with me, but I can’t. Miss Bunny here is a tool. That’s it. Simply a tool is what she is. Ya’re more than welcome ta ask Sarco how handy a blow-up doll can be on a quest. Why, during the trip we made last year, my Miss Kitty doll gave her very life to save us.” Leeky swiped at his eyes. “We even had a fine funeral for her.”

  The gnome turned toward the waiting group. “Didn’t we, Sarco?”

  Sarco shuddered at the memory of last year’s journey. The trip to find and save Uthiel had become the stuff of legend and nightmares. The search had ended once Sarco, Leeky, Briar, and her father had traveled halfway across the world to eventually find him. When all had been said and done, Uthiel had been saved, the fable of Castle Kuropkat solved, and Uthiel made leader of the Paladins of Albrath and protector of the dragons. He and Briar now presided over Castle Kuropkat and all its adjoining lands.

  What had Sarco gotten for his trouble, though, other than rescuing his friend? The task of fulfilling the second part of a prophecy he now spent most nights trying to forget? If need be, he’d do it all over again, of course, because Uthiel was worth it. But that didn’t stop the nightmare images of angry seas, a burning ship, a huge dragon, Briar’s scary, uncontrolled magic, and a punctured blow-up doll as a flotation device from invading his sleep.

  Leeky waited for an answer, however, so Sarco opened his mouth to speak and found the lump in his throat too big for words to get past. He settled for nodding.

  “See, didn’t I tell ya? I have ta take Miss Bunny. Ya never know what might pop up.”

  Laycee punched Leeky in the shoulder, but Sarco could tell it didn’t hold much force. “It’s what might pop up that worries me, ya blasted gnome.”

  Leeky blushed. “Aww, Laycee, ya’ve nothing ta worry about, lass. Ya know my heart belongs only ta ya. Matter of fact, I got something for ya as a kinda going-away present, just ta prove it.”

  The gnome dug deep into one of the many pockets gracing the military-style, camo pants he wore and plucked out a shiny, golden key. He held it out to Laycee. “This here’s ta my rooms in the underbelly of the Academy, and I want ya ta take it. While I’m gone, go there and make it as homey as ya like. That’s where we’ll live when I get back. Umm, ya might have ta move off ta the side a few pairs of…uh, panties here and there. It’s a harmless hobby of mine. I’ve collected a pair or two over the years. Unused, of course.”

  Sarco smiled as the female gnome grabbed the key from the notorious, rogue panty thief and pressed it to her heart. “Does this mean ya wish ta marry me then, Mr. Leeky Shortz?”

  Leeky’s eyes grew big and he coughed. “Marriage? Well, someday long, long in the future, perhaps, lass, but for now, I was thinking more along the lines of just having my way with ya whenever I want without any of the responsibility.”

  Laycee grinned, stretched up on tiptoes and planted a kiss on Leeky’s cheek. “Ya sure do know how ta sweet talk a girl, Leeky Shortz. There’s no doubt about that.”

  Leeky grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Ya think that’s sweet. Wait till ya see what else I got ya.” He dug once more into his pants-of-many-pockets and retrieved something long, thick, smooth, and green. He handed it to Laycee.

  The female gnome turned it back and forth in her hands and, for a moment, looked perplexed. “It’s a…a…a cucumber.”

  Leeky threw up his hands. “What the saggy, baggy, hanging tits on an overused, older-than-dirt troll harlot did ya think it would be, lass? Of course, it’s a cucumber. It’s ya favorite vegetable, isn’t it? I was planning ta take it along for my own lunch, but it’s so big and stiff, I couldn’t help but think of ya. I wouldn’t want ya ta be overly lonely while I’m away. We both well know how useless Tug is in certain departments lately, with his gear issues and all.”

  He patted her on the head. “I’m a sensitive gnome, ya know? I’m a modern guy, and I keep in touch with my feminine side and all that stuff. And just think about it. After a few days when ya’ve gotten ya use out of it, and it gets a tad mushy around the edges, ya can always slice it up and toss it in a salad. Can’t beat getting double duty out of a gift, now, can ya?”

  Laycee threw her arms about Leeky’s neck. “Ya’re one of a kind, Leeky Shortz. Ya certainly are.”

  Leeky untangled himself from Laycee and mounted his horse. “What the multi-colored puke down the front of a one-legged, drunken, black-eyed ogre are we waiting on, lads? There’s a quest ta be done. Let’s ride.”

  Sarco glared, anxious to be on his way. But Leeky didn’t seem to notice or be in any hurry. He simply continued to sit astride his steed, his blow-up doll across his lap, while his girlfriend gazed up at him adoringly and stroked a cucumber—that was a disturbing sight.

  He shuddered and turned toward Sherman, which was an even bigger mistake. There sat the halfling with both twins still dancing around his horse and extolling the fame of the Shermanator, but now in song…and horribly off key. Sarco cringed and closed his eyes for a moment to wash clean the slate of his mind.

  When next he opened them, he glanced at Adan. The huge barbarian looked ready to commit murder and didn’t appear to care who it might be.

  Searching for normal, Sarco’s eyes found Cyrrick. For a fleeting moment, his brother looked right at him then turned away. The strangest feeling came over him. What was it he’d glimpsed in Cyrrick’s eyes? Remorse, sorrow, even a touch of guilt? He couldn’t tell. He made a mental note to speak privately with him as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

  Finally, glancing toward Uthiel, Sarco smiled. Normal at last.

  That bubble burst a moment later when Uthiel spoke, “I suggest we get going real soon, Sarco. I had to drug Briar with her own brew of sleeping tea in order to keep her from tagging along. You know her, she’s going to be spitting mad when she wakes and f
inds us long gone. I’m almost afraid for the Academy. The woman wouldn’t take no for an answer, though, and she wouldn’t let me sleep a wink ‘til I tricked her into drinking that cup of tea.”

  Uthiel grimaced. “I added a few drops of rose hips to disguise the taste. Then told her it was a rare aphrodisiac tea I’d brought as a special Yulemass gift for the both of us and had been waiting for just the right moment to present her with it. You should’ve seen her face, Sarco. She was so excited. And the sexy little kittenish way she climbed into my lap as she drank it.” He sighed. “I’m such a dead man when we return.”

  Sarco gulped, and Uthiel continued to explain. “But what else could I have done? She wouldn’t listen to reason, and she kept insisting we needed a healer with us. And not just any healer but her in particular. I love her with all my heart, and she means well, but you know how stubborn she can be, Sarco, and the kinds of things that tend to happen when she’s anywhere near. Oh, yeah, my friend, we’d better be riding fast and hard. We’d best be many, many miles down the road before Lady Briarlarn Dragonheart next wakes.”

  A small tic twitched Sarco’s right cheek as he mentally rolled his eyes. Yelling, “Lets ride,” he took off at a gallop—as much to get away from his crazy companions as to get started.

  It was going to be a long quest and to begin it he needed to find…a flower formed from nothing but ice?

  Chapter Eighteen

  If ever a man looked more lord-like sitting astride his steed than Sarco Sunwalker did this very moment, Lark would like to see that man.

  The sight of her man’s raven-black hair fluttering in the breeze, his white shirt clinging to his broad, muscular shoulders, and his black breeks caressing the smooth leather of his saddle caused more than a few erratic heartbeats.

  The only thing Lark could think about as she watched him gallop away atop his snow-white stallion was an ardent wish for just one more quick round of Ride ‘Em Cowboy. Oh, to be that lucky pony for just a short time. The thought brought a secretive smile to her lips as a giggle burst forth from the depths of her soul.

  Even though her heart ached with loneliness as she watched the men ride through the courtyard and out the gates of the Academy, Lark forced herself to think only pleasant thoughts and to will the sun to continue shining upon them. She may not be able to help the man she loved with his quest, but she could ensure Sarco’s leaving took place without gloom.

  Fifteen minutes more, that’s all she needed. A quarter turn of the hourglass and it wouldn’t matter what the weather outside was like. A short ride north and Sarco would be through the portal, well on his way, and beyond the boundaries of any havoc her power might wreak on his group.

  A mere quarter turn of the hourglass, then she’d search out Ary, get some much-needed answers, and not care if the clouds obscured the sun.

  Lark sat on the edge of the bed and let the warmth of the sun’s morning rays seep into and calm her impatient soul. She watched each grain of sand as it sifted through the hourglass. Fourteen minutes and counting.

  ****

  “Where is she, Laycee?” Lark stood in the middle of the rooms she once shared with her sister. With her hands on her hips, tapping her foot and glaring at her insolent-looking governess, she tried her best to appear intimidating but could tell it wasn’t having the effect she’d hoped for.

  “Don’t be trying ta give me the evil-eye, missy. That don’t work. I’ve known ya since ya still pooped yourself. Do I look like ya sister’s keeper ta ya? How am I ta know where she is? She’s a woman full grown, and where she spends her nights is her business. I’ll be glad ta tell her ya were here asking after her, though, next time I do see her.”

  Laycee turned and walked away. She had Tug under one arm and a cucumber in her other hand. For a moment, Lark thought to ask why the female gnome would be carrying vegetables around this time of the morning then decided it was probably best if she didn’t know. What was important was finding the traitorous Miss Aryanna Hammerstrike.

  She softened her voice and tried a new tactic. Demanding had never gone over well with Laycee. Perhaps begging might bring better results. “Laycee, please. Pretty please with whipped cream and cherries on top. I really need to talk to her. It’s extremely important. If you have any idea where she is, tell me.”

  Laycee set her cucumber on a nearby table and Tug in a chair. She removed her wig, plopped it on the doll’s head and scratched her own before turning back toward Lark.

  “Ya know I don’t like tattle-telling and rumor spreading. Just this once though, I suppose it can’t hurt. I haven’t seen it with my own eyes, mind ya, but I’ve heard she’s been sneaking up the west tower and having a tryst with some young buck. If ya find her, don’t be telling her I told ya where ta look. Gotta stay neutral where ya girls are concerned, ya know? If not, I can’t effectively do my job. Don’t want ta be accused of playing favorites. Now, get on out of here before the twins get back, and for the love of Draka, don’t be asking me what those two are up ta. My heart can only stand so much.”

  Lark made her way up the long winding staircase of the west tower. She’d never been here. There’d never been a reason. At the top, a doorway came into view. The door stood slightly ajar as if someone had exited in a hurry. Peeking in first, then lightly shoving the door open, Lark stepped inside.

  She stood in awe. There lay Ary on her back, in the middle of a large bed, with a blanket tucked tightly about her chin. Tears had pooled in the shallow indentations beneath her eyes and overflowed her cheeks making wet tracks on her otherwise flawless face. Her golden curls surrounded her head like a halo, her mouth puckered prettily and her chin occasionally quivered. Even now, even though it was obvious she’d cried herself to sleep for some reason, Princess Aryanna Hammerstrike was beautiful.

  It took every ounce of will Lark possessed to not go to her sister, hug her close to her heart, and rock her until all her tears were no more than a memory. She stopped herself, however. She had to be strong, she had to find out, she had to know.

  Tearing her eyes from her sister for a moment, Lark took the opportunity to look about. The room was fairly standard, much like her own in the tower on the other side of the Academy. The bed in the middle of the room took up most of the space. A simple table with a couple of chairs sat in one corner, a desk and chair in the other. A glimpse of something royal purple draped across the seat of one of the chairs caught Lark’s eye, and quietly she tiptoed over to investigate. Gingerly, she lifted the garment and held it up for inspection.

  It was a robe. Not just any robe, but a robe of the royal house of Sunwalker. For a heartbeat her breath caught painfully in her chest. Sarco had left her room sometime during the night.

  She shook her head. She knew Sarco better than that, and she knew without a doubt if she went directly to his room, this moment, she’d find his robe there.

  No, this was not the robe of the man she loved. Whose then? Her thoughts raced. It could only belong to one other.

  Cyrrick. This must be Cyrrick’s room. And it must be Cyrrick’s robe, which could only mean Ary was sleeping in Cyrrick’s bed. Cyrrick was the we in Ary’s thoughts?

  It became as clear to Lark as the sight of her sister still sleeping in the bed before her. Sarco’s brother had betrayed him. Sarco’s brother and her sister had done this together. Why? What on Albrath did Cyrrick and Aryanna have to gain by destroying Sarco’s life? There was only one way to find out. Lark walked over and not so gently pinched her sister.

  “Ouch!” Aryanna sat straight up in the bed and glared. “Why’d you do that? I thought something bit me.”

  Lark glared right back at her. “If I could produce a swarm of locusts to accommodate you…Princess, I would.”

  Outside clouds gathered.

  Aryanna stood, wrapped the blanket tightly around her naked body, and though she tried to hide it, a glint of guilt and sadness flashed in her eyes.

  “So I guess I was right after all, you did intercept some of my t
houghts last evening. I suppose you must be angry and confused right about now?”

  Lark’s left cheek twitched. “Angry? You suppose I must be angry? And confused? That’s an understatement if I ever heard one. Just which thoughts do you think I intercepted, Ary? I want to hear you tell me what I heard out loud.”

  Outside the sky rumbled and darkened as if evening approached instead of midmorning.

  Aryanna retrieved clothing discarded on the stone floor. “So, exactly which thoughts would you like to hear first, Lark? The thoughts about how my life is over and nothing really matters anymore? Or perhaps the ones where I’ve made a mess of everyone else’s life and deserve the worst punishment that could possibly be thought up? I’m afraid you need to be a little more specific.” She dropped the blanket to the floor and proceeded to dress.

  Lark paced back and forth as the sky became as night and lightning flashed in the distance. Finally, she stopped directly in front of her sister, and looked her straight on. “I have to know, I need to hear you say it. Were you or Cyrrick in any way responsible for altering the words in the Barbarian Etiquette book, and the fiasco that almost got Sarco killed yesterday?”

  Aryanna sat. “It’s not that simple to explain.”

  Thunder crashed so nearby, the tower shook from the force.

  Lark stood over her sister and said only one word. “Try.”

  She didn’t want to feel sorry for her. She wanted to hold tight to her anger and use it as a shield, but when Aryanna rose and paced until finally stopping before the window, Lark’s reserve slipped a notch. Her sister looked like a fish out of water, gulping air into her lungs as if there wasn’t enough of the invisible stuff to be had. For a moment, the skies outside almost calmed.

  “S-sit down, and…and I’ll ex-ex-plain.”

  Lark’s rebellion bubbled forth. All her life she’d been taking orders. She was tired of it. “I’d rather sip this particular cup of poison standing, if you don’t mind, thank you.”

  Aryanna’s face crumbled, and the pleading sound of her voice touched a warm spot deep in Lark’s heart even though she fought it. “Please, Lark. Please sit down and give me a chance to explain.”