Abyssal Arcanist [Chapter 4]

Hey Peeps!

Here is another chapter. Please be on the lookout for more!

Shami

CHAPTER FOUR

STRANGERS ON CAMPUS

We left our classroom and walked the halls of the Academy. No one else was around—probably because they were in their own classes.

When I wandered by one of the large windows, I noticed a class of arcanists training out on the gigantic field. They were swinging wooden weapons in semi-coordinated fashion. Were they learning how to fight?

Clouds lingered around the edge of the field, obscuring the dirt track and the weapon racks. I wondered why that was the case. Astra Academy was built onto the tops of several mountain peaks, but the weather and the clouds were kept perfectly controlled. If clouds were around the field, it was because they were placed there.

Who had done that?

I held Twain close to my chest, gently stroking his head and scratching behind his large ears. All our eldrin were with us except for Brak, who was much too loud to stomp around the Academy. The stone golem had waited in class for us to return, but since it didn’t speak, it wasn’t like the golem could explain where we went. Instead, Nasbit had left a note.

“We should do this quickly,” Nasbit said in a higher pitched tone, concern in his voice.

“Oh, the late nights we’ll spend studying.” Sorin placed a hand on his chest. “Laughter will ring out.Our bonds will grow stronger, that is without a doubt.” He elbowed me. “Sharing our stories, hopes, and dreams—fabric held together with thick seams.”

Miko hopped up and down around out feet, her fox fire flaring around her little paws. “Shh! Shh! Don’t you know anything about stealth?” She narrowed her eyes and laid back her ears. “We’re supposed to be inconspicuous. We don’t want to be caught out in the hallway during class, do we?”

“Is it really against the rules?” Sorin asked, his eyebrows knitted.

Raaza shot him a sidelong glance. “Ditching class is definitely against the rules. And that’s what we’re doing.”

I held up a finger. “Is it really ditching class if there was no professor? Because I don’t think it is, so we weren’t technically ditching anything. I like to think we’re seeking out our lessons. Life lessons.” I tried to keep my sarcasm in check, but it was difficult.

Raaza hesitated for a long moment. Then he finally said, “Well, the rules in the library didn’t mention this scenario.”

“There are rules in the library?” Sorin turned to Nini. “Did you know that?”

She shook her head. Then she grabbed the red cloak of her reaper. “Did you know that, Waste?”

“I did,” Waste stated, his voice icy. “I’ve been in this Academy for years, and during the solstice festivals, I would spend time in the library. The rules of the Academy, as well as the Academy’s goals, motto, and architects, are all etched into the wall.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Nini pushed her glasses up her small nose.

“I apologize, my arcanist. Next time, I’ll be more vocal.”

I held Twain in front of me. His cute little kitten face stared back. “Did you know the rules?” I asked.

Twain snorted. “I stayed in the Menagerie as much as possible. Me and cloak-face didn’t spend time together during holidays.”

The reaper hovered close, a deep growl echoing throughout this hollow body. It was rather creepy, and I kept my distance—and kept Twain close—but I didn’t say anything. Most people in the Academy already didn’t like Waste, considering that only murderers bond with reapers. Well, perhaps murderer was too strong a word. The reaper’s Trial of Worth required that someone kill a blood relative, but it didn’t matter when or how. Sorin was technically able to bond with a reaper because our mother died giving birth to him.

Just thinking that caused me to tense.

Our mother…

I hadn’t even realized that we had reached the first-year dorms. I glanced up and found myself standing before the door with the others close by. Nasbit went for the handle. He turned to us with a frown.

“Please try not to touch anyone else’s things.” He sighed. “The others get fussy if their possessions are disturbed in any way.”

Possessions? What possessions? When I had arrived at Astra Academy, I barely had a bag of clothing. We didn’t have anything else. Our dorm was a series of beds pushed up against the wall.

Nasbit opened the door and ushered us all inside. Sorin, Raaza, and I entered, but Nini stayed out, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“I’ll keep watch,” she whispered.

However, I barely heard her. My sense of sight was bombarded by so many numerous gaudy displays of wealth that it impaired all my other senses.

Several tapestries hung on the walls.

Multiple colorful rugs covered the floors.

Each bed—there were ten in total—had their own theme. One was a deep green with forests stitched into the hem of the comforter. Another bed had sun patterns across the many pillows. A bed at the far end of the room had a privacy canopy hanging from four posters on each of the bed’s corners.

I didn’t even know why, but someone in the room had taken the effort to bring a small aquarium to the Academy. A tiny school of silver fish swam around the glass enclosure, flitting about with gusto.

I could’ve taken a bath in the aquarium, that was how large it was.

“Is that a painting?” Sorin asked, pointing to the wall next to the door.

A portrait of one of the students hung there. It was a giant portrait, too—and the person in question was a griffin arcanist. The man’s face was painted in a stern expression, his griffin in the background. His hair was slicked back, and so was the mane of the griffin, like they were attempting to match.

“Oh, that’s just Rutledge,” Nasbit said with a wave of his hand. “He fancies himself the handsomest bachelor in all of Astra Academy.”

I glanced back at the painting. His eldrin was more handsome than he was, but I wasn’t about to comment.

Sorin examined the artwork and frowned. “He brought this to the Academy?”

“Oh, yes.” Nasbit hurried to the end of the dorm room. “This way, gentlemen. My belongings are over here.”

“Why do you have so many things?” Raaza asked, breathless.

“It’s very common for new arcanists to bring a piece of home with them to Astra Academy.”

“Maybe for nobles…”

Nasbit rubbed his chin. “Well, yes. I only know what’s common for noble-born arcanists. I assume it’s different for all of you?”

Raaza didn’t reply. Neither did Sorin or I.

With his kitsune in tow, Raaza ambled after Nasbit.

Sorin and I stayed next to the painting. I rubbed my sides, itching at some of the bandages around my ribcage. When I had been possessed by Death Lord Deimos, he had used my body to fight some of the professors, and the burns from the conflict still bothered me.

Arcanists had a naturally fast healing rate, but burns always seemed to take the longest to mend themselves.

“Are you okay?” Sorin whispered.

When I turned to him, he stared at me with genuine concern. I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been through a lot. You should’ve taken the headmaster’s suggestion to just rest.”

“I didn’t want to be alone,” I said, my voice almost inaudible. “Besides, I’m well enough to walk. You don’t have to fuss.”

Sorin didn’t like that. He clenched his jaw and stared at the painting, his eyes unfocused.

“Lexly twins?” Nasbit called out. “Are you coming? I’m afraid I need your assistance.”

Sorin and I strode through the luxurious dorm and stopped at the last bed. Nasbit’s blankets were the same sandstone coloration of his golem, with gold threads sewn throughout, to give the sheets a shimmering appearance whenever moved. He carefully folded them up and then stuffed them into a solid oak trunk.

Nasbit motioned to a second trunk by the head of his bed. “These are both mine.” He gathered his personal belongings—books, notebooks, pencils, and clothing he kept in the dorm’s wardrobe—and then locked both trunks.

“We need to take these to my new dorm,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow.

Nasbit had barely done anything, but he already seemed out of breath.

Sorin knelt, picked up an oak trunk with both arms, and then stood, lifting the weight with his back. He grunts as he did so, and his arms shook. “I, uh…”

The shadows around his feet shifted and fluttered at the edges. Sorin’s eldrin lifted from the darkness underneath him. Shadowy tendrils wrapped themselves around my brother’s body as he was quickly encased in a suit of midnight black armor. It wasn’t a complete set of armor—pieces were missing, like one of the gauntlets—but it mostly covered him, especially his vital organs.

It was like Sorin had half a set of full plate, and each bit was made from the purest darkness.

Thurin, Sorin’s knightmare, had merged with him. They would live and die as a single creature so long as they merged, but as a benefit, their strength was increased.

Sorin hefted the oak trunk higher onto his chest. “Excellent,” Sorin and Thurin said as one, their voices intertwined. “Thank you, Thurin. Together, we can handle this.”

Raaza slowly turned to me. He frowned and then glanced over at the second trunk. “You think both of us can handle this one?” He gestured to my arms. “Unlike Sorin, you look like a candlemaker’s son, if you get my drift. Can you handle something like this?”

I huffed a laugh as I tapped the side of my head. “Worker smarter, not harder, my friend.” Then I offered Twain a smile. I set him down near my feet and pointed to the second oak trunk. “You got this, Twain.”

My eldrin narrowed his eyes and puffed his orange fur.

Before he could protest, I knelt next to him and petted him from his head to the nub of his tiny bobtail. “Ah, c’mon. You know I just tease you.” I scratched behind his ears. “You’re the best eldrin here. Will you please help us?”

Twain straightened his posture and held his head higher than before. “Oh, well, when you put it that way, of course I’ll help.” He hopped over to the trunk in his little kitten form.

Then I closed my eyes.

As a mimic arcanist, I had the ability to feel magic. The sensation was like fiddling with threads—or strings—and like a kite, the threads led to something wonderful. There was a thread for Thurin, my brother’s knightmare, and another thread for Miko, the kitsune.

Twain didn’t have a thread.

Or, if he did, I couldn’t sense it.

But I could sense Brak, Nasbit’s golem. And that boulder beast was plenty strong.

Lastly… there was a thread in me. A sliver of magic that led straight back to the fragment of Death Lord Deimos’s soul that seemed locked away deep within my body. He was an abyssal dragon arcanist, and his magic was powerful…

I tried to ignore the thread. A dragon wasn’t needed in this situation.

I tugged the thread of the stone golem, and it tightened to something taut. Twain bubbled and morphed straight into a sandstone golem, his fur disappearing as it hardened into stone. The transformation happened within a few short seconds, and my forehead burned throughout the process.

All arcanists had a mark—and mine was normally an empty star. But whenever Twain transformed, my star reflected the new kind of creature he had become. Now my seven-pointed star was laced with the formidable form of a golem.

Twain, with all his new might, effortlessly lifted the oak trunk.

“Ta-da,” I said with sarcastic showmanship, waving my hands around Twain.

Raaza crossed his arms and frowned. “Heh. What? You want an award for using your magic like any normal mimic arcanist? It wasn’t that impressive.”

This guy.

Nothing impressed him, apparently.

I shrugged. “Well, let’s head back to our dorms, shall we?”

Sorin, merged with Thurin, walked out of the dorm with the trunk in their arms. The clink of Sorin’s shadowy armor was a harsh reminder of his powerful magic. His knightmare was still young, and Sorin still needed to refile his magic, but I could tell. If Sorin didn’t one day become a famous knight, I would eat my words.

Twain, as a golem, lumbered out of the dorm. He slammed one of his boulder legs into the side of a bed, probably by accident, but Nasbit barked out a concerned shout.

“D-Don’t!”

He flew over to the bedpost and examined everything. Then he carefully set it back in place.

“Please be gentle,” he whispered. “The others won’t be so understanding if any of their things are damaged.”

Twain carefully made his way to the door. Then he turned his whole body sideways and shuffled out. He had to awkwardly maneuver himself to get the trunk out without damaging anything.

All the first-year dorms were in the same area with a common lounge area between them. There were four dorms in total—two for the boys, two for the girls—and each with ten beds. There weren’t that many first-years to Astra Academy this time around, which was why there were so many empty beds.

Nini joined us as we traveled across the lounging area. She opened the door and ushered us in without actually following.

Our dorm wasn’t nearly as fancy as the other. Except for Knovak, who had coin to spare, the rest of us had arrived at the Academy with next to nothing, so our beds were covered in simple white sheets and nothing more. There was a single rug—the one the Academy provided—and a few wardrobes around for us to use.

Not much else.

But when I walked into the dorm, I caught my breath.

Two people were here, and neither of them were Astra Academy students, that was for sure.