28

Marcus

Ash and Kaylin pull me to my feet when I stumble for the tenth time. Why is the bosun’s mate still here? That’s a question for later, though. At least they’re keeping me upright, but what I really wish is for Samsen to call a carriage to take us these last miles, or maybe turn the blasted headwind around. That’s not going to happen. Initiates must enter the Sanctuary without phantom help, or horse and cart for that matter. It’s part of the initiation which began the moment we left Baiseen. “Come on!”

The road to Aku Sanctuary is long, winding, and steep, a rocky terrain with trees bent by the wind. The fringing grass is dry as straw. I really thought it would be greener, from the stories I’ve heard. The ground rocks beneath me and my head spins. “I’m going to be sick.”

“It’s better if you don’t.” Ash presses the insides of my wrists until the nausea passes. She fusses over me, brushing mud from my clothes and pushing hair out of my face as we hurry up the mountainside. “You’re a complete mess as it is. No need to stink of puke.”

I glare back at her and push on. She’s as red-faced and winded as any of us, though Belair is the worst. He took the arrow, after all.

We took a knife in the chest, De’ral reminds me.

I’d forgotten all about it, seems so long ago now.

Two days.

The pain is still there, when I think of it, but so much of me hurts that the individual injuries blur and my whole body aches as one.

Ash’s touch is tender, even though her face is hard. “We’ve made it, Marcus. We’re here.” She squeezes my forearm. “Against all odds.”

“Not. Through. Gates. Yet.” I save my breath, which comes in gasps, trying to conserve strength. I’m Marcus Adicio, Heir of Baiseen, here for my initiation training on the Isle of Aku. I practice it in my head and keep my legs moving.

If Piper hadn’t healed me—multiple times now—I’d be back at the headland, dead under an ironbark tree. I grit my teeth and keep moving forward until all I feel is the slap of my feet on the hard packed road and the rush of blood in my ears. And the pain.

“Marcus, look up,” Belair says, stumbling to my side. He chokes out the words. His eyes are bloodshot and swimming in wet sockets. “The gates!”

Fifty yards away, they rise, high as the bell towers in Baiseen. It’d take an entire team of draft horses to draw those gates closed—or some powerful callers.

And then I hear a noise, like the pounding surf redoubled. No, it’s cheers! The road ahead is lined with orange- and yellow-robes, yelling at us, yelling for us! They’re whistling and hooting, shouting Khu-laua, Khu-laua, the ancient word for “initiation” on Aku. Their phantoms are up in a menagerie of shapes and sizes, some in the air, some on two legs, some four. In a rush of spirit, I believe we have made it, but Ash’s voice goes up an octave.

“The gate. It’s closing!”

At that moment, the fourth bell rings. We have three more tones in twice as many seconds, one for each hour since sunrise.

“Marcus, sprint for it!” Ash yells as she falls behind.

I look over my shoulder, my momentum paused mid-stride. Belair’s stumbled to the ground. Ahead, the gap at the entrance shrinks. The debate in my mind lasts less than a second, and I turn back to Belair.

The bell rings a second time. Two more to go.

The crowd cheers their support.

Kaylin hoists Belair up, and I grab the Tangeen’s arm and sling it over my shoulder. With a push from Samsen and Piper, I call on phantom strength.

Run! It’s De’ral booming in my head. His strength surges through me in a rush.

Third ring of the bell…

My feet pound the earth. This is it. My realm, my future, my everything hinges on those two giant doors drawing closed.

Faster!

In a massive leap, Belair and I fly through the narrowing gap, falling headfirst onto the grounds of the Sanctuary proper. The others stream in behind and pick us up as the fourth and final ring fades away.

Behind us, the gates slam closed.

There is no time to savor this moment. I can scant draw a full breath and already Samsen is pushing me forward. “To the training field.” He shoves me hard. “The first elimination trial has begun. Go!”

My mind spins. But there is no time to pause or think. He’s right. Now the real test begins.

I vaguely see my way up the street, past the main courtyard. I catch a glimpse of the treasured fountain of Aku. It’s larger than I imagined, a mist of cool water hitting my face, even from this distance away. No time to toss a coin now, but I do wish to reach the training field without passing out.

Cheers continue to well up, a choir of joy that seems almost out of place given all I’ve seen and done to get here. It’s hard to imagine this joyous peace after all the violence we’ve faced. Faces smile and hands reach out to pat me as I stagger past. We’re so tightly packed, it’s the jostle and closeness of bodies that helps to keep me on my feet. Orange- and yellow-robes flow around us, guiding the way. I’m not sure if they know who we are, but clearly, they’re glad we made it, the last of the initiates to arrive.

“Never seen it cut so close, lad.” One claps me on the back and laughs. “Half a second to spare.”

An orange-robe woman reaches up and roughs my hair. “That old wolf Adicio will be proud of this day.”

I smile and keep stumbling forward. I guess they do know who I am.

We make it to the training field where dozens of green-robe candidates wait. They are clean, showered, shaved, bright robes wafting in the breeze. They stand with hands behind their backs, calm and easy. Belair and I, on the other hand… We stagger into line at the end, swaying like drunken sailors, lungs pumping in and out with each breath, filthy faces dripping with sweat, and our many wounds welling with fresh blood.

Several instructors give speeches—short ones, thank the skies—followed by cheers and applause. I hope Ash is taking notes because my head is swimming. I have no idea what’s being said. The only way I stay upright is by bracing my hands on my knees. Belair has collapsed altogether. I look at Piper, who beams me an exhausted smile. I guess she’s not that worried at this point. When the assembly breaks up, I straighten. “What now, recorder?” My heart throbs in my neck.

“Weren’t you listening?”

“I was too busy trying to breathe.”

She looks no better than the others, save that her smile is the brightest. “An orange-robe will come assign you to your bunks and explain the roster.”

“There’s a roster?” Belair groans from the ground.

“Oh yes, and it’s not to be taken lightly.” Samsen has recovered quickest from our run to the gates—well, quickest, if you exclude Kaylin. He never worked up a sweat. I give the training field a sweep and turn toward the cobbled courtyard in front of the temple steps.

“Now, we’ve made it.” Ash takes her place between me and Belair, the proper position for our journey recorder. “Safe on Aku, at last,” she says softly. “Steady now. Here she comes.”

As my eyes focus, I realize the savant approaching is a child.

“Young for an orange-robe,” Ash whispers. “But an orange-robe nonetheless.”

“Well…” I choke. My voice is hoarse. “Well met,” I try again, hoping not to scare the girl. Beside me, Belair staggers to his feet and croaks out the same.

“Well met.” Her voice is light, as if ready to laugh. I think she’s all of ten. Her long black hair is kept in a single braid, unadorned. Her round cheeks dimple when she smiles, which seems her constant expression when looking at me and Belair. Beside her is an equally composed phantom in the form of an impala. It has large, round eyes, floppy ears, and an incredibly long, slender neck. Its tiny cloven hooves tap an even rhythm on the ground. Behind her are two yellow-robes, hoods up. I can’t see their faces.

“I’m Tyche.” When I hesitate, still catching my breath, she pronounces it slowly, as if I’m thick. “TIE-key.”

I clear my throat. “Tyche, please forgive our appearances.” I use my most formal manner. “I am Marcus Adicio from the realm of Palrio, son of the Magistrate, Jacas Adicio, green-robe to a warrior phantom and Heir to the throne of Baiseen. My companion savants are—” I open out my arm and nearly lose my footing. Ash catches me, and I continue as if I hadn’t almost fallen. “Samsen and Piper, yellow- and orange-robes, returning to Aku for the second and third time, also of Baiseen, and Belair Duquan from Pandom City in Tangeen, also green-robe to a warrior phantom. We’ve been—”

Belair drops to his knees and throws up.

“…drinking?” Tyche asks with a giggle.

Ash steps in. “I assure you, Tyche,” she says, also speaking in formal Palrion. “There has been no drinking on this journey, but we did nearly drown in the Ferus River, among other calamities. Our travels have not been smooth.”

“It’s true,” I say. “Please allow me to introduce to you Ash, my recorder, wordsmith of Baiseen, ward of High Savant Brogal.”

“Robe?”

I hesitate. “Non-savant.”

Tyche’s brows jump. I can tell it’s the first surprising thing I’ve said to her. But the impala leans forward, stretching its long neck out to Ash as if I’d introduced her to it specifically. I can imagine Ash will cause a stir with so many phantoms about. Like bees to honey they have always been with her.

Tyche clicks her tongue, calling her phantom back, her eyes wide. “I see the journey was hard for you.” The girl keeps her hand on her phantom, who tries to inch toward Ash again.

“Excessively so, with little food or sleep for days. We lost our horses, travel documents, and most of our personal effects. The only thing I have to assure you of my claim is this.” I pull my medallion from around my neck and show it to the girl. Ash gives a relieved sigh, and I nod a thanks to Kaylin, who fished it from the bottom of the river for me.

Tyche examines our family seal and dips her head.

“Marcus Adicio, welcome, and you as well, Belair Duquan.” She claps her hands and the graceful phantom turns to her. Together they chant in clear, high-pitched voices. A moment later, she faces me again. “I’ve called the master healer. She may want you two in the infirmary.”

“Unnecessary.”

“Really?” She points to my chest. “You’re bleeding, and so is Belair.” She looks to Piper as if she’s not been doing her job, then turns to the rest of my company. “There are guest rooms for you all.” She glances at Ash. “One non-savant?”

“Two,” Kaylin and Ash say at the same time.

Which reminds me, why is he still here?

We wouldn’t be, without him. De’ral rumbles in the depths.

“True.”

“This is Kaylin of Tutapa, our guide,” Ash continues when I don’t introduce him.

“Well met.” Tyche grins. “My grandmother will want a word with you. She’s quite fond of Tutapan cuisine.”

I close my eyes while arrangements are made for everyone’s lodging. Their voices blur into the background, and for a moment, I think I’ll pass out. The steady pain in my head blooms brighter, while my phantom strength retreats like water down a drain. I jolt awake when the impala bleats at Ash, springs into the air, and bounds away, leaping and jumping through the crowd.

Tyche opens her arms. “On behalf of the High Savant of Aku, welcome. May your path here be successful.”

As I’m led away, Tyche directs Kaylin and Ash toward the main temple. “You’ll have quarters there, and the librarian will be alerted to accommodate you. I imagine you have much to record.”

“Indeed, thank you.” Ash smiles. “See you at supper, Marcus, Belair.”

I’ve never heard her sound happier. Why not? She’s one of the few non-savants to make it to these sacred halls of training. I’m just as happy for her as I am for myself. Or I would be, if I had any energy to feel happiness.

My lids close as we walk to the infirmary. My main wish is that it’s not far, and I’m sure Belair feels the same. When we climb the steps and stop at the door, Tyche leans toward me before they take us in. “My grandmother worried you’d never hold your phantom to form, Marcus Adicio. We can’t wait to see what took you so long.”

I let out a groan. “Your grandmother?”

“Yuki, the High Savant of Aku.”