"Academy Chronicles Ch.4" by H. Coyne

Solorya leaned against the bronze gates that stood sentinel to the Academy, the green patina reminded her of the eras the Academy grounds had seen. Knights of lore and legend had walked this road, and seen the now majestic oaks when they were mere saplings. Perhaps something of the Knights lingered at the gates still: a faint word spoken in a charm- a memory sapped up by the very trees and earth. Solorya prayed she could catch these ghosts with senses quickened by sheer desire.

She looked up to see the sky was still the white gray of dawn, a mottled transition of night into day. The sky seemed uncertain which way to go, light or darkness. An evening chill nipped at her bared skin, but a gold flush beyond the horizon promised eventual day. Solorya felt between two worlds herself, the familiar Academy behind her, and an uncertain journey with a volatile group. She, like the sky, knew where she had to go, but was still dabbling with the thoughts of each. To keep herself from rash thoughts, she focused on the moment by nudging her pack with her toe. Eliant be merciful if she forgot anything, but that was the scout's job to be prepared, not the Knight's. She was to be ready to protect and adjudicate, not check rations.

A voice not her own descended from the sky. "Where are the rest?"

Above her head, Mykalah was perched on the flat cap of a pillar, one leg swinging the other tucked to her body. The mix was intent on a map, giving little consequence to outside forces.

After an evening of poring over the moral codes of Eliant's Knights, Solorya was in a better state of mind. "I don't know, but I'm sure they'll make it. And good rising to you, Mykalah."

The map dropped a little so Mykalah could stare over the edges at Solorya. The Mix's voice betrayed a slight surprise, "Er- yes, you as well." The map came up again, "But since none of us want to be here, I fail to see what makes this rising good."

"It is good because we are leaving on an adventure!" piped the arriving Alyssum. The little Glimmer had a tiny pack fastened to her chest and dainty quiver between her wings. Her little hand recklessly wielded a bow.

Mykalah returned to the map, mostly apathetic to the Glimmer's arrival. "I wouldn't let her have anything sharp. Might do some damage."

"Isn't that the point? Get it? Point?" the Glimmer started laughing boisterously at her own joke, ignorant of a swiftly descending shadow.

THUMP

A monstrous gold satin bag was dropped by Orelle and quickly joined by sacks of equally fragile fabric. An aghast Solorya circled the splendid hill of luggage.

"What on earth did you pack?"

Mykalah glanced down, "What's afoot?" Her expression tightened, "Ah, indulgence."

Solorya was stunned. "We can't take that much!"

Orelle retorted, "It's not 'indulgence'. I'm just prepared, you'll be begging to borrow my things eventually."

The human was agitatedly pushing her hand through her hair, "How are we to carry it all?"

"Trust me, Dovey, I'm a marvel at squeezing things into a carriage." Orelle searched around a bit, "Or even horses will do, if we are going to be rustic."

Mykalah smirked, "We're walking, your ladyship."

A small pale hand stuck out from beneath one of Orelle's bags, halting further protests. A horrified Solorya, started heaving the bags back through the gate as she took them off the Glimmer, "By swords! You might have killed her! I swear if anything's wrong I'll have your-"

Mykalah laughed, "At least it will be quieter."

The hind and human shot stern looks her way. Mykalah replied, "What? It's true."

Alyssum sat up from her sprawled position as soon as the luggage was cleared off.

"Are you alright?" Solorya asked urgently.

The Glimmer smiled and fixed her mussed hair, "Five pounds."

Orelle raised and eyebrow and glanced at Solorya, mouthing, "Head injury?"

"The gold bag was exactly five pounds heavy. Full of linens if I had to guess. I say it's good Sol threw most of your bags back, what you have on your back will be lovely." She noted the stave in Orelle's hand, "Oooo, a big stick! My mother always told me to speak softly and carry a big stick. I tried it once, the stick was far too heavy I couldn't fly so well, only drag it on and on and on and. . ."

Mykalah hopped down from the column, "Well it didn't injure her tongue at all, she's fine."

Sol helped Alyssum up and chided, "That could have been disastrous! We're not yet five steps away and one of us is almost smothered. As much as I like a challenge, I'd rather not my legacy include a journey of doom. Orelle help me with- Orelle?" The hind had wandered back to her bags, fishing for things she was loathe to leave behind. With a motherly sigh, Solorya corralled Orelle back to the group. Still unsatisfied with their pace, she pushed Mykalah to the front of the group. "You're the scout, lead the way."

The Eldar raised an eyebrow, "Is this the part where the bit comes out? I have a thing about iron if it is."

Sol's expression grew stern, and her hand lightly rested on her sword's pommel. Mykalah just smiled coolly, "As for the path, note the wide strip of dirt that leads away from the Academy. Crude but utilitarian."

Mykalah began down the path, thumbing through her personal journal for the trip. It compiled bits of maps and descriptions from older scouts' tomes. First stop was Plumwater; home to Southern humans. The official description she'd copied read: "A spot renowned for its simple, reclusive inhabitants and noted for their cider". Her addition to the summary was in pained script: "Sounds suspiciously backwards."

~*~

The trail turned unfamiliar to Solorya after the red pine grove. The Eldar mix led them quietly and intently towards the last posts of Academy land: dulled obelisks of white. Each one etched and painted with the symbols and colors of all Kinath kind.

Solorya touched the snowy stone reverently. "I've never seen the symbols all at once."

Orelle looked away, bored and said, "They're everywhere in Siren City. Including all the little variations."

Alyssum missed no occasion to talk about bright objects. "One symbol and color for every people group! Quite festive, don't you think?" She pointed enthusiastically to a pattern of diminishing circles in blue, "That's your symbol, Sol, Spirit Kin, mine, is the silver moon, Orelle is a Union, so hers is the entwined hearts." The Glimmer rattled on gesturing to each mark.  "White wings for Metterelis and Angelis, green gems for the Earth Sprung, red claws for Beast Kin, . . . "

Solorya tried to include Mykalah in the conversation, "Where's the Eldar for Mykalah?"

Alyssum perked up at this encouragement to keep going, "Oh Myk is considered Poison Eater under blood-tradition, not Eldar, so she doesn't get one." Solorya cringed at the Glimmer's blunt answer, but saw no reaction in their scout to the conversation.

The oblivious Glimmer went on,  "We'll pretend she gets the silver Startree of the Eldar. Plus, I wouldn't know a Death Eldar or Pit Spawn symbol if I saw one. They're outlawed in Kinath."

Mykalah was looking away to the rest of the path, but turned to the pillar, and talked for the first time since they had left. Her voice was flat and she spoke without acknowledging the effect of her answer on the others.

"They're scratched out on those. For your reference, Alice and Solorya, as I'm sure Ms. Orelle knows everything about the empire from Siren city." The hind sniffed and trotted away.

The scout knelt in the dirt, careful to keep a distance from the obelisk and traced a figure in the dirt.

"That's the mark of a Poison Eater or Death Eldar. It would be black." In the soil was the outline of a bell shaped flower

Solorya was hesitant to admit, "It's beautiful."

Mykalah answered, "Many wicked things are. That is the power of their deception."

Orelle barged between them, stamping on the image with her hooves. She hissed, "Would you bring them down on us? I thought that past even you."

Myakalah stood and made no explanation. She instead continued down the path with an admonishment: "It would be best to adopt a human form. The next town will not take kindly to other sorts."

Solorya looked to Alyssum, "What was that all about?"

Orelle answered instead, "These signs can have power when used by someone who knows how. And sometimes by those who don't." She stared at the ground where the evil symbol once was. "I trust her even less after that display."

~*~

Mykalah jerked her scarlet hood to cover more of her face, "Let's be quick about this. We'll get a room with four cots at The Nest and eat in the room."

"You can eat in the stuffy room Mykalah. The rest of us can blend in downstairs," countered the now human looking Orelle. Most Unions and all Spirit Kin had some ability to adopt a human guise. Alyssum even stood a full five feet high, she claimed any higher made her dizzy.

Sol interjected, "We should travel in pairs at all times."

The hind huffed, "Well then I call you or Alyssum."

Mykalah bit back, "I don't need a partner. I'll just stay in the room. Not much trouble I can get in there."

Alyssum was skipping ahead towards "The Nest". She needed some vittles quick. Like hummingbirds, Glimmers usually ate close to their body weight in food to maintain the constant supply of energy.

She burst into the Inn before the rest and started chatting with a doe-eyed brunette carrying mugs.

"Tiar! My esteemed compatriots and I need a room for the night with four cots. And lots of the famous cider."

The girls trickled in during the Glimmer's request. Solorya inserted herself in the conversation, "Maybe not lots of the cider. Just a round of something light."

The girl nodded, "Aye. I can do that. Eh, yew aren't from around 'ere. Yew talk a little funny."

Without thinking Orelle answered, "We're from The Academy."

The girl just laughed, "That's rich."

Mykalah inwardly moaned and murmured, "They don't even believe it exists. Perfectly backwards."

Alyssum loudly asked, "What do you mean by backwards, Myk? This place? I think it's quaint! Are you even reading the guides, silly?"

Some chairs in the tavern shifted as the regular diners looked up at the red-cloaked intruder.

Mykalah hissed, "Just wait til you're Glimmer size again, Alice, we'll talk. . ."

Alyssum smiled vacantly, "What? Do you need something, Myk?"

The tavern girl gave the group a confused look. She'd have to speak slower if this lot was to understand her, "It'll take a bit fer the room to be made up. Sit fer a spell and I'll 'ave Anne bring yew a round."

Obediently the girls shuffled to a table, trying to pretend they didn't notice the heavy stares of the supper crowd. Mykalah opted for a lonely seat by the fire amidst the old men with cold bones.

Solorya was a bit sore about the backwards comment. "I didn't always know The Academy existed. It doesn't make you backwards. Just exposed to a smaller world."

Alyssum nodded, "I like it here so far. The cider is marvelous. I bet your home was really nice too."

"It was. It's a good land. It gets in you, but I'm glad to be at school, to see more."

Orelle leaned in, "Maybe I'll have a little talk with Mykalah about hiding distaste. It's quite improper to air all your grievances."

Solorya grinned and allowed a faint strain of impishness, "Careful she doesn't bite you."

"Me? Why on earth would dear, pleasant Mykalah do such an uncouth thing?" Orelle began to turn on her charm, "You know, ladies, I could try to get these drinks for free." The ever practical Solorya perked. Satisfied, Orelle went on.

"Fish my harp out of my bag." She took a swig of cider and stood, "I'm no bard if I can't entertain this drunken crowd."

Her voice was sweet and clear as she spoke to the patrons, "Would the good patrons of The Nest care for a song?" There was a positive rumble, feeding her showmanship "What of a song of battles and kings? Of Eldars and fate?" She almost danced towards the head of the room near the fireplace, "You look to me to be a stalwart crowd, pleased much by valor and noble deeds." Men cheered at this, and Orelle was all smiles as she perched on the arm of a chair, the golden harp shining in her lap.

"Then who am I to disappoint? Shall I sing-say 'Nightfall'? The story of the first battle against the wicked Death Eldar? The foul Poison Eaters?"

Meaty hands clapped to encourage. It was a tale that catered to the strongly male audience.

"Then you shall have it!"

It would have been satisfying to Mykalah if Orelle was a mediocre performer, but to both her dismay and enjoyment, the hind could spin a tale. More than that, she could move an audience.

Her performance ranged from riotous to tragic, soaring between man's highest nobility as she spoke of the sacrifices of Eliant's knights and man's chilling cruelty as she spat the words of the Death Eldar Princes. There were times when she seemed possessed by the story, but she was always able to shift between the scenes and sentiments by brushing the strings of her harp. In the final lines she blazed with anger and sorrow as she spoke of the dark triumph of the Dark Princes in this first battle.

"Merciless and nigh immortal hands closed their black claws around the brave forces, around men who we shall never hear march again. Black eyes shined with pit fire as their fingers grew as crimson and black as their hair. Their hands washed in the noblest blood and sacred earth. Ah but those fallen heroes would cry, that 'twas better to die fighting that black tide, than to wait on the bloody shore. My heart is sick with grief that I must sing a dark song, but look on men who mourn with me. Look to the foggy past, their clouded future, where victory is shrouded in the proud bright banner of Eliant!"

Even Mykalah clapped at the tale's close, but it was lost in the resounding accolades of the men.

Anne quickly came round and told the girls that bard groups ate on the house, and that the rooms were ready. Solorya called across the room to Orelle, but couldn't be heard over the voices.

"Let's put our stuff upstairs, Alyssum."

"No more cider?" The Glimmer was crestfallen.

"You'll get more, we'll just be right back down. Just don't want our things everywhere. There could be pickpockets."

"No! I need all the pockets I have! What a dastardly practice, picking at others things. Let's move everything at once! For shame, have they no mothers to rear them right?"

The pair shuffled up the stairs, leaving Orelle and Mykalah immersed in the rowdy crowd.

In the midst of this fervor Orelle came to a decision she had been contemplating since they sat down. While spirits were high she gracefully moved near Mykalah and yanked her hood back.

Orelle abandoned Mykalah's side, leaving her to fret at the exposure. Response was slow at first. An old man began to cry out, "Look! Look here!"

The old geezer's grip was stronger than Mykalah would have guessed. He grew more adamant with her every attempt to jerk away, "I don't believe it! Look here! Andre look!"

The still loud mob began to watch as Andre turned to the puckered old man. Mykalah cringed. Andre smelled strongly of ale and she discerned a bit of chicken skin in his beard.

"I donna believe it Andre. A bogey, here! Look at it."

Mykalah was roughly handed off to the gathering crowd around Andre. He looked her over, "It can't be real." His accent betrayed a worldlier upbringing than the others. Mykalah swore as the room grew dizzyingly brighter.

Clutching hands dropped her hotly. "They changed! They colored all black."

"It's a Poison Eater!"

Mykalah didn't think a breakdown of her lineage would be welcome at the moment, so she let the classification slide.

Amidst the rough passing off from hand to hand and the shouts of disbelief and anger, Mykalah wriggled out from under her pack and the scarlet cloak. Before she sprinted out the door into dark, she flung Orelle a look that could draw blood.