InkSpelled (InkHaven Academy Book 1)

by Kenna Bardot

  “Really?”

  “What? Did you think it was this luxurious room?” She raised one strawberry blond brow at me.

  I huffed out a laugh, letting her take my hand and guide me from the room.

  Four

  Kaia

  Lottie gave me detailed enough instructions so I wouldn’t get lost going to Air Docent Porter’s classroom. I left early enough to get there without being late, which suited me just fine because, while InkHaven Academy was fascinating, it was nothing less than intimidating. The walls were of a strong hard granite stone and the windows huge and plentiful. The staircases I climbed were tall and made of worn stone as I trekked to the third floor where Air Docent Porter’s classroom was located.

  I passed underneath a tall archway before finding my way to the fourth hallway to the right where Lottie had said the room was. I stopped in front of a dark door with a ten-inch dagger hanging on it. I swallowed and wondered what I had gotten myself into. I gulped again, hard, before knocking on the door - three tentative, half-hearted taps.

  “Come in,” Docent Porter commanded from inside, and I turned the knob, pushing at the heavy door with a soft creak.

  I entered a large room without chairs but for a board in front and a desk to the right. I looked to the end of the room where a row of weapons of various styles and sizes lined the walls - now I understood the choice of door decoration as this was so obviously a sort of weaponry room. There was another doorway which led to a bigger, more spacious room filled with natural light streaming in through massive vaulted windows.

  “Ah, Miss Shaw, you made it.” Air Docent Porter was dressed in a plain black shirt with a gray vest and pants. Again, I saw the tattoo I’d first noticed in the infirmary, and I felt a strong urge to ask him about it as he gestured for me to sit down on one of the chairs by his desk.

  “You might be wondering why I asked you to come,” he said without preamble.

  “Ah… yes,” I answered, barely stopping myself from rolling my eyes. I’d have thought curiosity would be obvious.

  He handed me a sheet of parchment which I took and read. A complicated chart and a list of bullet points stared up at me. I had a small inkling of what it was, but disbelief twisted my face.

  “That’s your schedule,” he confirmed, and wished I could have been wrong about it.

  “Ok.” I wished I hadn’t trembled as I said it.

  “I’m so sorry for the bad news, but it had to be done for you especially given your unorthodox entry into InkHaven.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing, “Because of your age, it’s not wise to keep you here for the normal five years that normal Air students have to spend before graduating and becoming certified. The curriculum you hold in your hand has been modified to fit you. As I had initially warned, it won’t be easy.”

  I didn’t find that much of a surprise so simply waited for him to continue. “In your first two months you will be taking first year courses. On your ninth week here, you will take an examination to evaluate if you can move on to second year courses. Should you pass, you will spend a week in review before formally joining the second year classes. After another two months, the same process and when you pass, you will move on to third year where you will remain until the end of term. This means you would have taken your entire Rook training, first to third year, in the span of one. Should you pass and survive third, you will move on to Disciple training - that’s fourth and fifth year. Additionally, you will undergo Trials a little differently than the other students. Any questions?”

  When will I have time to eat, sleep, and breathe? “What happens if I fail?” I asked instead.

  He sat back and crossed muscled arms across his chest but evaded my question, “I suggest you don’t.”

  “But I know absolutely nothing about being part of the Order, unlike the other students here. And I’m expected to cram three years worth of education into one?” I could feel my voice rising in pitch, but the panic was real as it took hold of me.

  “Miss Shaw,” he scolded, “if you will look at the other side of the parchment, I have written down several books I suggest you study to supplement the ones assigned to the courses. Below the list is a schedule where I am perfectly willing to tutor and/or train you wherever necessary to prepare you for your qualification exam.”

  “Why would you help me?” I was grateful, but I had no illusions about the fact that I was not Docent Porter’s favorite person.

  “Miss Shaw, I told you this morning that myself and my Air disciple shadow should have guided you to your rebirth easily. Even though it was his first formal rebirth, I’ve done it hundreds of times and I have never failed so my presence there should have guaranteed success. But the fact that you’re here means that we did, in fact, fail. Should you succeed in your studies and the Trials, thus becoming a certified member of the Order, it would mean we did not fail at all. That means that even though quite unorthodox, you are meant to be part of the Order after all. Do you understand?”

  “Sure. You’re protecting your ego.” I gasped after I’d spoken my thoughts aloud. It was probably not smart for me to alienate the man who was volunteering to make sure I survived my stint as an InkHaven Air student. I couldn’t stop the bitterness that flooded me though, being nothing more than a way for him to restore his reputation.

  He laughed, eyebrow cocked. “Sure. I have a frail ego.”

  Well, that could have gone worse. Thank Zeevar the man had a sense of humor. “So my first class is on Monday, right? Control and Discipline, it says.”

  “Ah, yes, one of the fun ones. The entire student body and all Docents will be there. You will be divided by class but everyone takes it on the same day and mostly in the same area. Cushions are provided but bring your yoga mat as well.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  He shook his head, smiling as he did so. “Any other questions?”

  I shook my head, and he gestured me out of the office with a casual wave of his hand. As I shut the door behind me I wished I had asked him what his tattoo meant after all.

  ✽✽✽

  That Sunday, after a good and filling breakfast, I decided that it was a good idea to get an early start on the year’s coursework. While I had spent the day before reading the books that were assigned for first years - they had been helpfully delivered to my room - I was not about to ignore Docent Porter’s advice.

  “Hey, Lottie?”

  My curious roommate, who laid on her bed with her head dangling off the edge and her long blond waves falling to the floor, eyed me with interest. “Yes, sweetie?”

  “Where’s the library?”

  “Zeevar, the library? Why on earth are you going to the library before term even starts?” She swung her legs around and in one swift, fluid motion that spoke to a grace I would never possess and sat upright.

  “Well, I’m doing a few accelerated courses.” I handed her the parchment that Docent Porter had given me and had the satisfaction of laughing at the look of shock and horror that crossed her face as she read it.

  “Honey, this is too much. Are they expecting you to do this and still be able to function?” She waved the parchment in the air with such vehemence that I laughed despite the seriousness of the situation.

  “Lottie, Lottie. You’re saying nothing that I haven’t thought of myself, but do I really have a choice? I’m twenty-five, and you’re two years younger than me. I have to catch up.”

  “Well, I can’t argue with the logic. But it’s still hateful.”

  “Sure it is.” There was a momentary pause before I smiled at her. “So are you going to show me to the library?”

  She rolled her eyes but shot up. “Sure. I’ll even help you study a little.”

  “Thanks, Lottie.”

  “I wish you nothing but luck, honey.” She looked at the parchment again and shook her head before handing it to me. Her twang darkened when she continued, “Trust me, you’re gonna need it.”

  ✽�
�✽

  Following Lottie into the classroom the next day should have been an easy enough task. But as I’d stayed up late to read as much of the assigned reading plus the supplementary I’d gotten from the library with Lottie’s help, I was exhausted. My eyes felt gritty and I tripped over my own feet, flying forward into what would have been Lottie’s back. Luckily, or humiliatingly, a stranger’s arms snatched me up and halted my progress.

  “Easy,” an enthusiastic voice chuckled at me. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine now, thank you.” I swallowed, attempting to ignore the outright laughs of the others within the class as I broke away from the boy. He wasn’t too small, maybe just a little under average height, his frame was slight but his sea green eyes danced in amusement as he stared down at me. Flipping his curly titian hair out of those eyes with a flick of his head, he smiled, and I gave him an awkward smile in return, ducking around him to stand beside Lottie, who glared at him openly.

  “Do-do we not like him?” I asked.

  Her eyes turned to me, approval in them at my trust in her judgment. “Emerson? He’s nice enough. Sweet, really.”

  “Then why the glare?”

  “His friends are another story. They’re some of the ones who will devour you.” I nodded - too bad. He was really quite adorable.

  “Are you quite finished?” The Ink Docent raised an eyebrow at us from the front of the room, arms crossed over her chest. She was clad in black with deep gold trim which complemented her short curly black hair and dusky skin.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied politely, ducking my head as my face heated.

  “Good. Then let’s begin. Please make sure to join your year and your department. After, lay out your mats and sit while I talk about what this course means. For most of you, it won’t be your first time, but do try not to sleep from boredom.”

  Lottie gave me a squeeze as she moved off and the boy she’d called Emerson settled near me. Looking around, I saw that Docent Porter was right - what appeared like all the Docents were in the room as well, standing around by the wall. My eyes met Docent Porter’s, who raised an eyebrow at me before gesturing to the front of the room.

  I tuned back in.

  “Control is necessary for us to be able to find, understand, and commune with our inner selves. When we lost our mundane connection to the outside and became part of the Order, we gained a more profound link to Zeevar thus advancing one step nearer to Zeevarna. This is our God’s gift to us. During this time, in peace and tranquility, we find that connection we lost over our summer vacation or establish one that wasn’t there in the first place.

  “Please assume your preferred position. Should you need help or assistance, one of the docents in this room will help. Happy reconnecting.” She gave us a deep bow as everyone around me bowed heads and closed eyes, settling and getting comfortable.

  I simply sat awkwardly until Docent Porter made a beeline for me. He crouched down but kept his voice even as he explained, “They teach the basics of this to all children in the Order, but not all children take to it quite so easily. Besides, those who come along late in their teens don’t get a lot of time to get used to it; however, it is easy to pick up. Watch them.”

  I did and saw some whose lips were moving while some were completely unmoving. Docent Porter whispered by my ear, “Do you see?”

  “What?”

  “Everyone is different. So, now ask yourself - what position would most bring you peace?”

  I hummed. “Kneeling, I think I’d prefer to kneel.” I rose up to my knees and rested my hands on my thighs.

  “Very well. If you find that you need to change, don’t hesitate to do so. Finding your center will require you to quiet everything else. Look inside yourself, and find the place where you’re connected to Zeevar as his servant.”

  “I-I don’t understand what that means.” I looked up at him and flushed.

  His lips thinned. “I am aware of that, Miss Shaw. If you think finding that connection to Zeevar is as simple as closing one’s eyes, you’re mistaken. Because it is your first time, start by focusing on your breathing. Deep, even breaths. So deep I want your back to touch my palm each time you inhale. Begin.”

  I nodded, dropping my head to my chest and breathing as deep as possible - straining my lungs under the pressure.

  “More,” he urged in his low whisper. I gasped in air until I felt as though my lungs might burst. My back touched his hand. “Only when you find your center can you truly connect with the blessing Zeevar has given you in letting you live. Did you listen to Docent Briggs? Release.”

  I let my breath out slowly, though it burned my lungs to be so full for so long. “Who?” I asked even as I fought the urge to cough, my chest heaving slightly.

  He sighed. “Ink Docent Briggs. The woman lecturing before. You were distracted. But enough stalling, again,” his deep, methodical voice ordered, and I obeyed - stretching my lungs rhythmically, releasing them as ordered. I lost myself in his commands, the quiet monotone soothing even as I pushed my lungs to their limits.

  A bell dinged, and I felt people around me moving to stand from their settled positions. “Alright, class. Let’s move on to some stretches,” Ink Docent Briggs announced from the front.

  Docent Porter moved off but whispered before he went, “You did well for your first time, Miss Shaw. I’ll see you in my classroom this evening for your catch-up training.” Though his body remained an appropriate distance from mine, I shivered as his voice fluttered over my skin.

  “Yes, Air Docent,” I agreed, clumsily standing from my cushion with achy knees. I stashed the cushion into bins like some of the students were doing - though several didn’t use them and were content enough to just use their mats. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the same man who had guided me to the Headmaster’s office that first day stalk towards Docent Porter, pointing angrily at him. I’d have watched more but Docent Briggs guided the class through a sequence of stretches that I did my best to replicate. Most of the class was kind enough to ignore the fact that I stumbled through it. Or maybe they just didn’t care enough to pay me any mind.

  ✽✽✽

  I didn’t even bother attempting to disguise my limp as I stumbled into Air Docent Porter’s classroom at the end of the day. After spending the whole day at Control and Discipline, my muscles protested from all the exercises and stretches I had asked it to perform. My life before InkHaven had been much less physically demanding.

  “There you are. I expected you ten minutes ago.” Docent Porter opened the door mere moments after my first knock.

  “I’m sorry. I-” I wanted to whine out that I’d nearly crawled to get there, but he cut me off with a raised hand.

  “Let’s just get started.” He gestured me inside and offered me a curved sword that gleamed dully. I took the handle with a gulp, hating the amount of effort it took for me to successfully hold the blade up off the ground. I stared at Docent Porter but his dark brown eyes were sharp, quite different from how I’d remembered them, even earlier that day.

  “Shouldn’t we use practice swords or something?” My voice trailed off as I caught sight of the three men lurking at the edge of the room. Emerson, the sweet, titian-haired boy from earlier sat with his eyes on me and his chin resting on his hand. The second man, sitting next to him had familiar piercing blue eyes although I couldn’t quite place him yet. My eyes coasted over him, ignoring those intense eyes in favor of taking in the perfectly coiffed black hair and long, lean muscles. His hips were narrow and his shoulders broad, encased in his student uniform with the sleeves rolled up to reveal sculpted forearms.

  “I believe you’ll find we do not have time to proceed with caution if you want to graduate from the Academy alive,” Docent Porter narrowed his eyes at me - though he did draw a wooden sword for himself.

  “She can barely lift the damn sword, Gale.” A man I didn’t recognize sneered at me. His mouth was tense and he was tall - oh so very tall, as he leaned against the
wall, with legs that seemed like they might be taller than my entire frame. His legs were encased in jeans, with motorcycle boots on his feet where they crossed casually at the ankle. He too was lean, but slightly more broad than the other two men as some definition strained at the confines of his black tee. Blond, short cropped hair and strong bone structure paired with the harsh set of his mouth made him look more savage than man.

  “I can see that, Ronan.” Porter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me, Miss Shaw, what was your job before your rebirth?”

  “I was a gardener. I worked in a nursery.” I felt my chin wobble but I tried to keep it high - I was not going to be underestimated.

  “And there was no heavy lifting required?” The blond man named Ronan drummed his fingers on his arm with them crossed over his chest. I couldn’t see his eyes, hidden as they were by a pair of sunglasses, but I could feel the intensity of his stare.

  “I-no,” I said with a shake of my head. “Not for me, anyway. At the most, I carried some stock but we had flatbed carts for that.”

  “They enabled you because you’re small. Let you stay weak. Mousy.”

  I flinched at Ronan’s assessment and frowned. “They didn’t enable me because I was small. If they enabled me at all, it was because I wasn’t worth the effort,” I said meekly, feeling that familiar bitterness rise in my throat.

  “And why might that be?” the one with the familiar blue eyes asked from off to the side, studying me as if I were a fascinating exhibit

  “Because they all knew I’d be dead soon,” I hissed out, tapping the back of my ear where there had once been a tattoo of golden ink.

  “Enough,” Docent Porter ordered, drawing my attention back to him. “Leave, Ronan.” He gave them a dismissive look. “And take your friends with you.”

  “What!” Ronan jumped up, and I had to crane my neck to see his face given how tall he actually was.