《Secrets of Silverleaf》 Chapter I ¡°Hey Rindolph, what¡¯s the big idea? Why you leavin¡¯ us?¡± The deep voice shot down from the upper level of the tavern. Rindolph looked up from his place behind the stained bartop. The splintering rafters, the fraying tapestries on the walls. All as dark as Death itself. ¡°If you want to talk, then come down here and talk. I¡¯m not shouting up there again. The people on the street think I¡¯m crazy as it is.¡± A translucent white-grey figure appeared on the second level, leaning over the balustrade. Rindolph barely looked up before returning to polishing the many glasses. The figure vaulted over the railing and dropped to the first story, landing in a crouch before straightening and walking over to the bar, long hair swaying in an unfelt breeze. ¡°Alright, fine. I¡¯ll look you in the eye. Now why you leavin¡¯ us?¡± Rindolph put the glass and rag on the bartop and leaned against the edge. ¡°You know as well as I do that when people, living people, spend too long here, they start going mad. Besides, it¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve had a proper vacation. Maybe I can even find a girl who doesn¡¯t think I¡¯m mad. Death only knows.¡± The revenant matched his stance, leaning against the opposite edge of the bar and glaring into his eyes. ¡°And while you¡¯re gallivantin¡¯ around the world, we¡¯ll all be stuck in this Deathforsaken building! Look me in my eyes and tell me you don¡¯t care!¡± Rindolph matched the revenant¡¯s gaze. ¡°I do care. But I¡¯m the one still alive here. I can''t always take care of the dead and forget to live.¡± The revenant pushed back from the bar, throwing his hands up in the air. ¡°So leave us here! Go off and never return! That¡¯s what all the rest did!¡± The barkeeper leaned his elbows on the edge of the wooden surface, his neutral expression not broken for a second. ¡°I¡¯ll come back. You know I will. This is my home as much as it is yours.¡± The revenant walked over to the stairs and started to climb them. ¡°That¡¯s what they all said!¡± ¡°I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t get Captain Stringham to try and convince me. She¡¯s usually down here when I decide to do anything stupid.¡± The revenant sniffed, but said nothing as he crested the stairs and walked around the balcony until Rindolph couldn¡¯t see him anymore. The barkeeper smiled. Of all the revenants, Stringham seemed to have his back the most. She understood why he had to leave. And she knew he¡¯d be back. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ¡°Emmalene? Where are you?¡± Maiken¡¯s voice called over the towers of books, bouncing off the rounded ceiling and echoing with a familiarity that Emmalene found comforting. She pushed aside a stack of parchment on her desk and settled her pen into its inkwell before swiveling around on her stool. The desk curved around her, forming a crescent shape. And every spare inch was covered by something: books, parchment, folders of notes, the list went on. The perfect space. At least for her. ¡°Over here!¡± Emmalene pushed herself off the stool and knelt down, shifting two particularly unstable towers of books so that she could escape her cove. The desk and the floor all around her had stack after stack of books, so high that she couldn¡¯t see over the top. She¡¯d used all of these in one way or another, before sticking them in stacks grouped roughly by content. She¡¯d have to reference them all when she finished her manuscript. No use in returning them until then. Maiken¡¯s round face appeared through the gap in the wall of books, eyes alight and red painted across her cheeks. ¡°You have to come right now! Brightmoon said there¡¯s a molerat loose in the alchemy building!¡± Emmalene smiled, twirling a dry pen in her hand. ¡°And you believed him?¡± Maiken paused, looking up at her with a confused look, the tips of her short, pointed ears shining in the sunlight coming through the window. ¡°Uh, yes?¡± ¡°Well, there¡¯s your mistake.¡± Emmalene edged her way out of the book-cove and sat down on her bed, the rich brown blanket smooth under her fingers except for where silver lines had been embroidered. ¡°But Adona said so too!¡± Emmalene frowned. Adona had a better track record than Brightmoon when it came to telling the truth. And a loose molerat did seem like a prank someone in animal science might pull on the alchemy students. ¡°So go check it out! You don¡¯t need my permission.¡± Maiken rolled her eyes, although her smile ruined the effect. ¡°Come on, Inkstain. You¡¯re coming too. Don¡¯t you want to see a molerat?¡± ¡°It¡¯s Inkspire, and I don¡¯t need to. I¡¯ve already seen one up close.¡± Maiken¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Really? Are they cute?¡± ¡°Not in any sense of the word.¡± Emmalene flopped back on her bed. ¡°I¡¯m not going to convince you to go away, am I?¡± Maiken grinned. ¡°Nope!¡± She crossed the room and grabbed Emmalene¡¯s wrist. ¡°Now come on! You¡¯re going to miss it!¡± ¡°Fine. Just this once. But I need to get my things.¡± Emmalene sat up and shook off Maiken¡¯s grip before grabbing a messenger bag from its place hanging on her bedpost. She¡¯d have to refill her canteen at some point, but for now all of her travel things were ready. Except maybe her ink. She pulled a jar from a shelf and stuffed it into one of the bag¡¯s small pockets. ¡°You don¡¯t need your things. We¡¯re just going to alchemy and coming back.¡± ¡°You realize that¡¯s on the other side of campus, right? Several gates away?¡± The elf waved her hand dismissively. ¡°It¡¯ll be like we never left. And you could use some fresh air.¡± ¡°I¡¯m still taking them.¡± ¡°Suit yourself.¡± Maiken led the way to the still-open door. Emmalene followed her through and closed it behind them, taking a key from her pocket and twisting it in the lock. Maiken had already run the length of the hall, past several more rooms, before Emmalene caught up to her. ¡°This had better be worth it.¡± ¡°Really? You¡¯re not dying to see the looks on the faces of the alchemy geeks?¡± She had a point. ¡°Fine. But this is my exercise for the day. I don¡¯t have time for anything else.¡± ¡°You really do need to get out more.¡± Emmalene didn¡¯t respond, instead saving her breath for running. Her bag beat against her side in time with her shoes. The halls seemed to grow longer the more she ran, white marble with arching ceilings changing to wooden planks and crystal windows to countless other variations. When an academy spanned the nations, it had a little of everything. Emmalene finally caught up to Maiken in front of the first gate, resting her hands on her knees and gasping for breath. Has it really been that long since I¡¯ve gone for a run? She looked up at the gate. The white marble that ran around the edge of the Academy made an arch here, runes carved on the inside. A thin film rippled inside the archway, translucent and milky white. Swirls of color appeared here and there as the sunlight bounced off the gate. Across the top of the archway, a curved plaque bore the details of the gate¡¯s destination. Hendrikson¡¯s Grove: Language Keep, Symphony¡¯s Hall, Military Science. ¡°Come on, pick up the pace! This is only the first gate!¡± Maiken plunged through the film, disappearing. Emmalene sighed and stumbled after her. A feeling of static and tingling passed through her. One step out of Chronicle and another step into the Grove. Her feet never left the ground, strolling into one gate and out another. The world in front of her was green now, trees bending around stone structures and vines creeping up the gate archway. Maiken had already made it a dozen yards to the right from the gate. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you at the gate to the Moor!¡± Emmalene groaned, following Maiken¡¯s lead. Was the gate to the Moor this way, or did she have to take another gate before that? She cursed herself for not having the map still memorized. Back when she¡¯d started, every single gate had been stamped into her memory. She¡¯d practiced for weeks to get them all down. But Chronicle held most of what she needed, the library and the literary classrooms. Once or twice she¡¯d venture to one of the main academy buildings for a restricted book or an original manuscript from the archives, but those excursions were few and far between. Even Calliope¡¯s, the mess hall for that cluster of areas, was only a gate or two away. But alchemy? All the way across the campuses. Gates upon gates upon even more gates. She hadn¡¯t seen a point in remembering all of them when she¡¯d had better things to do with her mind-space. But now¡­ too late to reconsider. Maiken waited for her in the trees by the next gate. Emmalene wanted to collapse and take a nap. But the short elf blazed the way through the gate, so Emmalene followed. Translucent film, static feeling, new landscape. The Moor looked exactly like it sounded, dark and permanently misty. A series of raised wooden walkways wound through the fog, keeping students out of the muck and dark water below. Just another campus. And not even the weirdest one. ¡°How many more gates? I can¡¯t do this all day.¡± Maiken frowned. ¡°Maybe five? This is a slightly roundabout route.¡± ¡°Why? You know I¡¯m not an exercise person.¡± She held up her hand. ¡°And I¡¯m not an elf either.¡± ¡°Do you want to avoid Loren and his gang in Springwood?¡± Emmalene shivered. Yes, she definitely wanted to. ¡°Just keep going. And slower.¡± The elf¡¯s pace barely slowed as she led Emmalene through the rest of the gates. The alchemy buildings stood in Tinker¡¯s Hollow, a campus of tall trees and strong winds that set it apart from the other forests. A crowd had already started to gather around the entrance to the biggest alchemy building, although no one was going through the door. Off to the left, in between the three-foot-high roots of a tree, a group of alchemy students cowered. Their goggles glinted in the sun as they huddled together and frantically discussed something. One or two of them seemed close to tears.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. A light-colored dirt path led from the archway to the crowds and the building. Emmalene reached out and rested her hand against the rough bark on a tree, her head starting to spin. ¡°Next time, I¡¯m not running across campus, no matter what it is.¡± ¡°Come on. It¡¯s more fun when you have someone with you.¡± Maiken led the way down toward the crowds, who stared at the open front doors of the sturdy stone building. A white blur scurried around inside the front entryway, weaving in between the legs of the professors trying to catch it. The blur ricocheted off the walls a few more times before flying out the front doors and scurrying into the crowd. High-pitched screams erupted as the crowd tore in two, making way for the blur. Two of the professors from the alchemy building tore after the thing, although Emmalene could see no way they would catch up. As the white blur came up the path towards the gate, the details resolved until Emmalene could see the glistening nose of the molerat. Maiken knelt down, pulling a purple berry out of her pocket and placing it on the ground in front of her. As the molerat crested a small slope halfway up the hill, it slowed to a stop and bared its large front teeth. Maiken rolled the berry over to it. After sniffing the berry, the molerat chomped down on it, juice splashing all over its face. All sense of malice gone, it scurried over to Maiken, looking up at her and standing on its hind legs. Maiken reached into her pocket and withdrew another berry, feeding it to the molerat while stroking its head. Emmalene stared down at her like she¡¯d lost her mind. Why in Chronicle was she feeding the molerat? The professors caught up with the molerat, stopping as they saw Maiken leading it in circles with her finger. When they looked at Emmalene, she just shrugged. ¡°Does that critter belong to you?¡± Maiken looked up. ¡°No. But it looked hungry.¡± She looked over at Emmalene. ¡°And I think it¡¯s cute.¡± The taller professor brushed her hair aside and picked up the molerat, keeping her fingers away from its large teeth. ¡°Well, thank you for your help. We¡¯ve been trying to catch this thing for the better part of an hour.¡± ¡°Of course, Professor! Happy to help.¡± Maiken tossed one more berry to the molerat, landing it right in its mouth. The taller professor with the molerat smiled and started back down the path, but the shorter one stayed. He looked down at Maiken. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Maiken, sir.¡± ¡°Well, Maiken, I¡¯ll make sure the Headmistress hears about this. You¡¯ve got a good head on your shoulders. Thanks for your help.¡± He turned and followed his colleague. Emmalene turned to Maiken. ¡°All the way across campus for that?¡± Maiken shrugged. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to go the whole way alone. And you needed the exercise.¡± She grinned. ¡°Plus, I do think it¡¯s cute.¡± There was no point in being angry. And she had needed some fresh air. ¡°Alright, fine. But I need to go back now.¡± ¡°Okay! I¡¯ll go with you. And let¡¯s take a different path this time. We¡¯ll go the other way around Springwood.¡± Maiken led the way down to the alchemy building and turned right. Up ahead, another gate shimmered in the distance. ¡°How do you know where all the gates go? Most of your classes are over in Brackenshade.¡± Maiken looked over at her. ¡°Where do you think I am most nights?¡± ¡°Not in our room, that¡¯s for sure.¡± The grin on Maiken¡¯s face grew even bigger. ¡°Out partying! Someone or other has something going on every night.¡± Maiken leaned in closer. ¡°Thanks for always studying in our room, by the way. It¡¯s the perfect excuse for me to never have to host a party. And it means that I can escape the guys when I want to.¡± ¡°Thanks?¡± They passed through another gate, the mossy rocks of one campus changing to the light frost of another. Emmalene shivered, pulling on the bottom of her tunic. It didn¡¯t even really have sleeves, just ruffles that suggested them. Definitely not Frostflake clothing. She picked up her pace. The next gate would be close, since almost nobody wanted a building in perpetual winter. Just the climate professors. And they were definitely crazy. Everyone knew that. Maiken led the way through the next gate, disappearing from view for a moment. Emmalene let the static wash over her, stepping back into warmer weather. A hand clamped down over her mouth, scaring the life out of her like Death itself. She tried to push the hand away, but someone had grabbed her arms as well. Maiken stood on the other side of the gate in a similar predicament.The tall girl behind her had her in a headlock while also covering her mouth. She had a yellow earring. Emmalene¡¯s blood froze and heated at the same time. Loren¡¯s gang. A slim boy stepped out from behind a bush, long black hair pulled back. ¡°Well, look who it is. Just who I wanted to see.¡± His eyes narrowed. ¡°Do you know how much embarrassment and attention I got from failing Galloway¡¯s practical? All because you wouldn¡¯t help me.¡± The hand came away from Emmalene¡¯s face. ¡°That¡¯s right, Loren. Because you didn¡¯t bother studying. I¡¯d do it the same way if I had another chance.¡± Loren backhanded her, his knuckles stinging the most. The edge of her lip started to bleed, slowly spilling crimson liquid. ¡°You listen to me, human. I¡¯ve had enough of being second.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re only that high because nobody else is willing to challenge you. Death¡¯s Sword! How can you bear to look at yourself in the mirror?¡± The half-elf stepped forward and slugged her in the stomach. She dropped to the ground, the hands holding her letting go. Her breath didn¡¯t return for a few agonizing seconds. ¡°And you¡¯ve been hiding from me, too. Almost like you knew you were guilty.¡± Emmalene stayed down for longer than she needed to, making no response and feigning more pain than she was actually in. If she kicked her leg out and knocked the legs out from under her captor, she could probably run to the edge of this campus and get out into the town. Once she reached the streets, he wouldn¡¯t dare touch her. Not while she had her Silverleaf pin on. In one fluid motion, she swept her leg around behind her, connecting with something solid that gave way. A thud sounded behind her, but she¡¯d already jumped to her feet and started running toward the buildings in front of her. The regular archway to the town would probably be just on the other side. She remembered that much. Emmalene reached the first building, long brown hair tickling the back of her neck as she ran. A part of her told her to stay and help Maiken. For all the help she could actually give. Loren would just have both of them again.No, she¡¯d have to come back for Maiken. Besides, Loren didn¡¯t want her. Hopefully he¡¯d just let her go and give chase. Emmalene wove through the buildings, dodging other students as they hurried between classes. Closer and closer to the edge of campus. This is really cutting into my study time. The thought jumped into her mind unbidden. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Running from the head of a gang across an unfamiliar campus, and she thought about homework. The edge of the campus came into view, a white marble archway marking the way out of Silverleaf. Emmalene ran under it and didn¡¯t slow until she reached the middle of the cobblestone street. Safe. For now. But she couldn¡¯t go back anytime soon, at least, not that way. I¡¯m going to end up being days behind my deadline at this rate. Emmalene wrapped her arms around herself, starting down the cobblestone road and wishing she¡¯d thought to bring her cloak. She raked through her memory, trying to remember the name of the town. Pondshire? No. Pondvale? Closer, but not big enough. Lakevale! That was it. She remembered finding it odd that a town with ¡®lake¡¯ in its name didn¡¯t have a lake nearby. But the buildings looked cozy enough. Bright colors of paint interspersed with dark wooden beams. Towers of red-stone stood at many of the corners, a bell or a set of windows at the top. The roofs were tiled with something that had a lighter red color than the towers. Come to think of it, the tarnished green of copper showed up quite a lot too. The streets weren¡¯t busy, but the few people that were walking about paused and stepped aside as Emmalene continued on her way. It made her feel odd, the way they didn¡¯t look her in the eyes. Like they thought her rank was far above theirs. That didn¡¯t make her feel good. She needed somewhere to think, to process everything. She broke into a run again, feet pounding a path away from the Silverleaf archway and the too-quiet townspeople. On to the darker buildings, the ones that had light-red shingles missing in patches and crumbling stone towers every so often on the corners of the blocks. Finally, Emmalene stopped and looked around. The streets were silent now, dark shadows cast across the cracked stones from the crooked buildings. A perfect place to think in silence. Well, almost perfect. It still felt too open. Emmalene swept her gaze around the dark road, looking for somewhere smaller to curl up and hide. She did her best thinking in small spaces. That tavern to the far left would do nicely. Dim light spilled out from the windows, cold even though it looked like it came from a fire. Still, there wouldn¡¯t be many people, and her pin would keep away the worst of them. She walked over and pushed open the door. A rush of cold air hit her, making her shiver. ¡°Hello?¡± No answer. Odd. But the lights were lit, so it must be open. Maybe she was the only one there and the barkeeper was in a different room. She stepped in and closed the door, walking across the creaking floorboards and sitting at a stool next to the bar. The shivers came every so often now. The not-warm light came from candles perched on top of ledges in the stone walls. But a strange almost-white glow came from the second story, up on the balconies. Emmalene rapped her knuckles on the bartop. ¡°Anybody here?¡± A tall man came bustling out from a side door. He couldn¡¯t be much older than her youngest professor, certainly not old enough to be stuck behind a bar full-time. His short black hair was slicked back, a few strands sticking up in the back. His sideburns accented the style nicely. A long brown leather jacket hung from his shoulders, worn smooth in many places. He had a rag that must have once been white hanging over his shoulder. ¡°So sorry to keep you waiting. I don¡¯t get hardly anybody here these days.¡± He bustled over to the barrels and mugs behind the bar. ¡°So what¡¯ll it be for you today, young lady?¡± ¡°Nothing too strong. Maybe a spiced hard cider?¡± The man smiled. ¡°Perfect.¡± He poured the drink from a smaller bottle into a stemmed glass and slid it to her, expertly avoiding the rough patches and knots on the wooden surface. ¡°I trust it¡¯s up to your standard?¡± Emmalene took a small sip. It certainly wasn¡¯t a mix of herbs she¡¯d had before, but they worked well together. Under the sour taste and tang, who could really tell anyway? ¡°Yep.¡± The man smiled. ¡°Wonderful.¡± He threw up his hands. ¡°Oh, where are my manners? Maybe I am as crazy as they say. My name in Rindolph. Pleased to make your acquaintance.¡± ¡°Emmalene. Inkspire School, Silverleaf Academy.¡± Rindolph¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Inkspire? I used to be one of those.¡± ¡°Really? Then, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, why are you still around here doing this? No offense.¡± He waved his hand. ¡°None taken. I never finished my degree. Had to go home and take care of my sister.¡± Emmalene took another sip. ¡°What happened to her?¡± ¡°Died two years after that. I never went back to Silverleaf. Just looked around and found an old man here who had good business. Learned the trade from him.¡± Rindolph lifted his rag and a mug. ¡°It all worked out. I know my fair share.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry about your sister.¡± Over Rindolph¡¯s shoulder, something flashed against the wooden wall. A shiver ran down Emmalene¡¯s spine, different from those caused by the temperature. Whatever it had been, or whoever, she was being watched. The unseen adversary was the worst kind. She set a few coins on the bar and downed her cider in two gulps, placing the glass next to the money. ¡°I really should be going. My roommate will wonder where I got off to. But thank you.¡± She made a beeline for the door, trying hard not to run. She needed to get away from this place, away to somewhere lighter and less exposed. Even Silverleaf had limits to its influence. The door in front of her rattled on its hinges, the lock-bar swinging down of its own accord and clicking into place. Emmalene stopped short, staring at it. A man formed in front of her, white-grey and translucent. His long hair had probably once been dark, although now it had a nasty greenish tint. He had a snarl on his face. ¡°Now just where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± He rushed at her and pushed her back. His hands felt icy. Emmalene hit the floor and scrabbled backward on her hands, keeping her eyes fixed on the thing. Her mind raced frantically as she tried to understand what was going on. What was it? Her vision started to grey, coldness reaching deep into her chest towards her heart. No. Get away while you still can. But her body refused to move. The rest of her vision started to go black as the ghostly creature stepped over her and reached down. She couldn¡¯t escape. Her body let go of reality, and she fell back, head echoing against the creaking floorboards. Her hearing faded last of all, but not before she heard Rindolph say something. ¡°Hendrikson, I told you not to scare the guests. She could be the one to help us.¡± Chapter II Callan stared up at the gate in front of him, pen and parchment in his hands. He¡¯d tried time and time again to freehand the runes he could see on the inside of the archway, but they never turned out good enough for him to do anything useful. Maybe he should try doing another rubbing¡­ A few students passed through the gate, one of them unmistakable elven with a height far exceeding the others and long white hair. Callan didn¡¯t bother with them as they gave him quizzical looks. They always did that. Far more than he cared to think about. He¡¯d been at this for a few semesters now, trying to research and unravel the secret of the gates. And he¡¯d still gotten nowhere. Nothing solid enough to write an essay for getting professional support. Callan pressed his parchment to the gate and scratched his pen across the surface. From the disjointed lines, he could make out the rune at eye level, though he could only get half of each one from this side of the gate. He went over the half-rune again with his pen before stepping through the gate and letting the cool breeze of the forest turn icy cold as snow-banks appeared around him. Seriously, who wanted a campus like Frostflake? No point in freezing while trying to learn. It just made you think slower. But he had to get the other half of that rune. He ignored the encroaching cold and held up the parchment, scratching over the visible side of the rune. The two pieces seemed to fit together vaguely, but he couldn¡¯t really tell. He¡¯d need an artist to really get these down well, preferably a full-fledged Swirlpath student. But still, this was more than he¡¯d gotten in a few weeks. Maybe if he worked his way around to all the runes and then tried to connect them all¡­ A familiar shiver of excitement ran down his spine, the same as the one he¡¯d gotten when he¡¯d first seen the gates at work. He stepped back through the gate and headed to his room. The Wizard¡¯s paper on number theory still needed some work before he turned in for the night. Especially the conclusion¡­ Callan sat back in his seat, eyelids fluttering. He had to get this done tonight. But his mind refused to work like it should. He leaned his head back, staring around the room. Pieces of parchment and various drawings covered the walls, each one pasted over another as theories were rendered obsolete and phased out. The rough tracings from today were off to the side, trying their best not to block out anything else. And one solitary bed against the far wall, unaccompanied by others. No one wanted to share a room with a crazy Fractalforge student. He didn¡¯t blame them. But even crazy students still got lonely on occasion. He forced himself back to the desk and the unfinished essay. Just a few more sentences, and then I can write the final draft and be done. He felt himself falling, but part of him didn¡¯t want to interrupt the feeling¡­ Something rushed around him, something powerful. But why did everything feel so slow? Callan¡¯s head felt heavy. He lifted it up and blinked his eyes. His right hand still held an upright pen, the end covered in fresh ink. The rushing feeling had started to fade¡­ The parchment in front of him no longer held any legible words. The language had been inked out, covered in curving lines. The essay, the margins, even parts of the table itself. Covered in fractals, lines that curved and mirrored away into infinity, symmetric in some way that only Death could tell. A shiver ran down his spine, very different from the one he¡¯d gotten from the gates. What¡¯s wrong with me? He dropped the pen onto the parchment and pushed himself away from the desk, excess ink dripping onto some of the fractals. Those little designs scared him more than he cared to say. The Wizard had said they would begin drawing them later in the semester, but that would only be small ones, easily harnessed and controlled. They weren¡¯t scary then. But this¡­ Callan shuddered to think what would¡¯ve happened if he¡¯d finished drawing before waking up. Would he still be here? And what did ¡®finish¡¯ mean when the fractals went on forever and ever? Shaking, he tore his eyes from the fractals and made his way over to his bed. He didn¡¯t bother to change his clothes or wipe the ink-stains off his hand. Plenty of time for that in the morning, when things made more sense and fractals weren¡¯t invading his reality. Callan pulled the blankets over himself and willed his mind to stop, to close down and go back to the state it had been in only moments before. Just go back to sleep¡­ He lay awake for a very long time before Death had pity on him and let him sleep. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ¡°Is she awake yet? I have some questions for her!¡± ¡°Patience, Henrikson. It¡¯s your fault she¡¯s out in the first place.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a low blow from a living guy.¡± Emmalene raised a hand to her face, trying to clear away the dried bits from the edges of her eyes. Why did her head hurt so much? Had she fallen? Her vision gradually cleared, revealing a wooden wall with tables and benches set up in front of it. Had she fallen asleep in a corner of Calliope¡¯s again? No, this looked different. ¡°Welcome back, Emmalene.¡± Rindolph knelt down next to her, jacket pooling around him. She pushed herself up into a more comfortable position against the bar, turning her head and testing out the sore spot in the back. Yep, that would take a few days to go away. ¡°Hi?¡± There was something glowing over Rindolph¡¯s shoulder. As her vision cleared even more, the thing took shape: a face, sharp and angular. It looked like it was frowning, but she could see straight through it to the far wall of the tavern. A cold shiver washed over her. ¡°Rindolph! Behind you!¡± ¡°I know. Emmalene, this is Hendrikson. He¡¯s not necessarily the most polite of the revenants, but he¡¯s also far from the worst.¡± ¡°Hey! Name one person more eloquent than me!¡± ¡°The Captain certainly is. And Minho can beat you most days.¡± The revenant huffed but didn¡¯t reply. Rindolph turned back to Emmalene. ¡°This is the real reason no one comes here anymore. Too many souls who haven¡¯t quite finished what they came to this world to do.¡± He smiled, although it looked more sad than anything. ¡°But Death seems to have given me some good fortune. You might be able to help us.¡± Emmalene¡¯s mind raced at a thousand miles a second. Nothing made sense. ¡°Me? Help you?¡± ¡°Yes. You might be one of the few that can.¡± She shook her head slightly, trying to keep the pain in check. ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t follow.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect you to, after a scare like that. Hendrikson, go keep the others company. I¡¯ll call for someone when I need them.¡± ¡°Rindolph, I¡­¡± ¡°Not now. Go.¡± The revenant walked off, up the stairs to the second floor. Rindolph held out a hand. ¡°Let¡¯s get you into an actual chair. If you¡¯re going to stay and hear the whole story, it¡¯ll be better that way.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ¡°You mean I can just leave?¡± Emmalene took his hand and pulled herself to her feet. ¡°Absolutely. I¡¯m not keeping you here. Neither can they.¡± Emmalene made it halfway to the door again before stopping. She looked back at Rindolph, with his slicked black hair and worn leather coat. He looked¡­ defeated. She looked at the door once again before sighing and walking away from it. She set her things on a table and took a seat next to him. I¡¯m going to regret this. ¡°Alright, what¡¯s this story of yours?¡± Rindolph sat down at the same table and leaned his elbows on it. ¡°Have you ever wondered what happens to people after they die?¡± That was an¡­ unsettling way to start a conversation. ¡°Not really. I¡¯ve had enough to worry about with school.¡± ¡°An acceptable answer. Not many do at your age. But it is a topic of no small import among older folk.¡± His eyes grew a little distant. ¡°Do you continue on your journey, with Death as a guide, or do you end on Death¡¯s curved blade, soul sliced forever into a million pieces?¡± ¡°What does this have to do with the ghost?¡± ¡°Revenant, actually. And I¡¯m getting there. When you die, if you have a reason, you can stay behind. Most can¡¯t find a sufficiently powerful reason, or else they just don¡¯t want to prolong their departure. That is fine. But those who do stay behind gradually lose whatever sanity they have left. They wander the streets wailing silently, bemoaning the fact that life continues and nothing they do can fix what needs fixing.¡± He paused, clearing his throat. ¡°Except here. In certain places, revenants don¡¯t go mad. They retain their sanity and clear memories, waiting in hopes that someone living will come along and help them finish what they couldn¡¯t in life.¡± ¡°Wow. Okay, that¡¯s a lot.¡± Emmalene sat back in her chair, once again trying and failing to process what she¡¯d heard. ¡°So what does this have to do with me?¡± ¡°Some of these revenants have been around here for generations. I don¡¯t know why they haven¡¯t surrendered to oblivion and madness, but somehow they¡¯ve held on. The people or things they meant to fix are long dead and gone. But they need someone to tell their stories, to make sure other people don¡¯t make the same mistakes. And of each and every single person you know, which type is most qualified to do that?¡± ¡°An Inkspire.¡± Emmalene almost whispered the words, letting them echo inside her head and throughout the tavern. ¡°But then why haven¡¯t you written them down yet? You said you were an Inkspire as well.¡± Rindolph shook his head. ¡°I was. I never finished my training. And I left writing behind a long time ago. These revenants have come to see their stories as the last thing they have. It¡¯s what makes them who they are, even in death. They won¡¯t let just anyone write it.¡± He looked her dead in the eye. ¡°It has to be someone qualified. Someone like you.¡± ¡°How many are there?¡± Rindolph scratched at his sideburns. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I asked. If I had to guess, no more than fifty. But don¡¯t quote me on that.¡± Fifty dead people. Each with a story to tell. How was she going to find the time? Rindolph smiled. ¡°Oh, and I suspect you¡¯ll like this part. Some of them, like Hendrikson, you might be very interested in talking to yourself. Do you recognize his name?¡± It seemed very familiar, though she couldn¡¯t quite match it with something. ¡°Maybe?¡± ¡°He was one of the Founders of the Silverleaf Academy.¡± A tiny spark, a miniature flame of hope ignited in Emmalene¡¯s chest. After all her research, this could finally be the thing that helped her complete her manuscript. ¡°How many of them are here? How many of the Founders?¡± ¡°Not very many. Certainly no more than five. But each one has a story to tell, maybe multiple. They rehearse them silently. I¡¯ve never heard any of them. Just little bits and pieces that they mutter from time to time.¡± He looked at her. ¡°I take it you want to help us?¡± Emmalene offered her hand. ¡°Absolutely. Count me in.¡± Rindolph reached for her hand, then hesitated. ¡°I¡¯m not actually in charge here.¡± He turned and looked up towards the second-story balcony. ¡°Captain? Would you come down here?¡± A white-grey figure appeared at the balcony, hurtling over the railing and floating down slower than Emmalene would have thought possible. Something flapped behind the figure, swaying like the feathers in the large tri-pointed hat. The woman touched down and walked over to the table where the two were sitting, bowing deeply. She had on a navy uniform, tassels and epaulettes accenting the utilitarian designs underneath. Her short hair reached her chin, cut sharply. She reached out and shook Emmalene¡¯s outstretched hand. A wave of cold shot up Emmalene¡¯s arm, but she didn¡¯t pull away. ¡°My name is Captain Stringham. I¡¯m at your service.¡± ¡°Emmalene of Silverleaf. Pleased to make your acquaintance.¡± ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ¡°Shut the hatch. We don¡¯t need anyone else down here.¡± Loren¡¯s voice sounded back through the tunnel. Maiken pulled at the ropes around her wrists, trying to find some way to get out of the chair she¡¯d been in for a good hour. Somewhere under Springwood, no doubt. She¡¯d had a hood on when they¡¯d pulled her through the gate, but the route checked out in her mind. Two gates in about the right places. Loren came walking back into the room, his usual swagger back. ¡°You¡¯re not getting out of that, trust me.¡± ¡°What do you know?¡± Maiken tried to make herself sound firm, but it only half worked. Loren pulled a knife from his belt, flashing it in the light from the hanging lanterns. ¡°I know that a former sailor tied those knots. And I know that even if, by some miracle of Death, you got out of them, there are several guys around here with knives sharper than this one.¡± He dragged the tip of the knife along her collarbone and shoulder, leaving the faintest trail of blood. ¡°And I¡¯ve told them to do whatever they want with you short of ending your pitiful life early. I still need you for that.¡± ¡°They¡¯ll come looking for me, you know. They¡¯ll know I¡¯m missing.¡± Loren threw back his head and laughed. ¡°They? Who are you talking about? Your darling roommate left you and ran off into town. She won¡¯t be back for a long time. And who else saw us?¡± ¡°But the parties! I¡¯m always there. Someone¡¯s bound to notice and ask questions.¡± Maiken smiled inwardly at her cleverness. Let him answer that one. His smile broadened, wiping the happiness from inside her. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s going to be a problem. See, it¡¯s no secret you¡¯re normally out when you should be in. And half the time you¡¯re ¡®out¡¯ at a guy¡¯s place. You¡¯ve been around the campuses with a guy or two. It¡¯s not too much of a stretch in anybody¡¯s mind if you didn¡¯t show up one night because you found a guy and were¡­ otherwise occupied.¡± He winked at her. ¡°Don¡¯t you think?¡± Maiken felt sick. ¡°That¡¯s disgusting! They¡¯d never fall for it.¡± ¡°They already have. I¡¯ve got witnesses. With the right ears listening, they could topple a reputation in one night.¡± Loren looked at his pocket-watch. ¡°Just give it a few hours. The party tonight is at Brightmoon¡¯s, right?¡± Maiken stayed silent, eyes wide. She was stuck here for who knew how long. No one would bother coming to find her, and nobody would care. Not even her professors. ¡°I¡¯ll let you think on all of that. I have a class I need to get to.¡± He motioned to the girl on the left, the one with the severe haircut and the yellow earring. ¡°You¡¯re in charge here. Stay sharp.¡± He disappeared out the doorway. The girl grinned and pulled up a chair next to Maiken, sitting down and putting her feet up on the attached desk. She removed a knife from her belt and began to file at her nails. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s the two of us, sweet.¡± She stopped filing her nails and twisted her head a little to the side. ¡°I wonder what you would look like with a shorter haircut. Maybe I¡¯ll work on that in a little bit.¡± She chuckled and went back to her nails. Maiken closed her eyes and let herself lean forward as far as possible. Could today get much worse? At least Emmalene had gotten away. Hopefully she¡¯d find a way to help. Chapter III The sun rose slowly over Fractalkeep, light peeking in through the windows. Callan rolled over as the beams reached his head, trying to salvage the last few moments of rest. But the sun wouldn¡¯t let him rest. He surrendered to the dawning day and pushed himself up, swinging out of bed. Wrinkles criss-crossed his pants and tunic. Why had he worn them overnight? Callan remembered the night before and instantly wished he hadn¡¯t. Slowly, he crept over to his desk. His essay parchment lay askew, covered in swirling lines. The pattern didn¡¯t quite match up with the one on the desk. He quickly snatched the parchment off the wood and tore it into a few large pieces. Later on, he could piece them back together and copy what was left of the essay. But the fractals had to be broken. Shattered fractals didn¡¯t hold power, and he¡¯d rather be safe than sorry. Classes would start soon. He couldn¡¯t afford to be late, not when he had extra questions for the Wizard on top of what he would already have from the day¡¯s lecture. If he dared to ask them. His clothes from the day before would have to do. He smoothed out a few of the major wrinkles as best he could and pulled his bag from a hook on the wall. He couldn¡¯t recall if the essay was due today or later on, but it didn¡¯t really matter at this point. The sooner he could get back and sleep more, the better. Hopefully he¡¯d be thinking clearer then. He just had to make sure he didn¡¯t drift off at the desk again. With a yawn and a sigh, Callan forced himself out the door and into the land of the awake. For once, he wished he lived in a different campus when the time and location difference would give him a plausible reason for being a little late to class. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Emmalene sat at an old table, pieces of parchment scattered all across the surface, pen in hand. Rindolph had gone to get her something to drink, anything to stave off the coldness of the tavern. It was a side effect of the revenants, he¡¯d said. Nothing could be done about it except wear another layer or two. Captain Stringham sat across the table from her, forearms resting on the edge of the wood. That was another thing Rindolph had said; the revenants could touch physical things, but only if they really tried. Most just used stairs and chairs and tables because it made them feel a little more alive. But try as they might, he told her, they couldn¡¯t touch humans. Or elves, for that matter, but Emmalene doubted she would ever get Maiken into a spooky place like this. Although, it didn¡¯t seem quite as eerie anymore. The light still seemed colder than it should have been, and the upper level was still dark and quiet. But Emmalene could feel a power in the walls now, an excitement mirrored by her own heart. So many secrets were hidden in these walls, with all of these people that no one had talked to for decades. To speak to the very Founders that had made Silverleaf the expansive university it was, to hear even a few words they had to say. Even if nobody else ever believed her, it didn¡¯t matter. She had to know. She dipped her pen in the inkwell again. ¡°So, Captain, Rindolph said that every single revenant here has a story of some sort. What¡¯s yours?¡± The revenant shook her head. ¡°I have one, but I won¡¯t tell it just yet. After a revenant tells their story, they start to fade. Just a little, but it keeps going until they pass on to the next realm. And since I¡¯m the Captain, I¡¯ll wait until the very end.¡± Emmalene blinked, trying to process the information. ¡°Alright. Well, where are the others?¡± Stringham smiled. ¡°I might not have a story, but I do have a few things to tell you before you start.¡± She held up her fingers. ¡°First, a quick thank you. The others will probably echo it, but I¡¯m making sure it gets said. Second, be careful. Some of these stories are very personal, and many of them relate to mistakes made in life. Don¡¯t just share them with anyone, not until we¡¯re gone. And third, if you¡¯re asked to do something, do it.¡± Emmalene looked up. ¡°I¡¯m just a student. You know that, right? I can¡¯t do a lot of things right now, and even if I could, I still have a lot of classwork to do. It¡¯s not like I can just go gallivanting across the countryside doing favors.¡± Stringham frowned. ¡°That¡¯s part of this deal. The revenants are telling you their stories because they have hope that something can be done to mend what¡¯s broken. You have to promise that, one day, one way or another, you¡¯ll do what they ask.¡± Emmalene sighed, feeling the weight of the project settle on her shoulders. ¡°Very well. I promise to complete the asked tasks, so long as they don¡¯t endanger my life or anyone else¡¯s.¡± She frowned. ¡°And I¡¯m not breaking any laws either. But I¡¯ll do my best beyond that.¡± The Captain nodded. ¡°That¡¯s good enough. I¡¯ll go find someone to come down and talk with you. Although a word of caution. Some of them are a little touchy when it comes to talking about life in general. Maybe just avoid that.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Emmalene smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to make them feel happy. They¡¯ll tell their stories better that way.¡± ¡°Perfect.¡± Stringham pushed herself up and walked over to the stairs. As she reached the landing midway between the floors, she looked back down at the table with the parchment. ¡°Good luck, Emmalene Silverleaf.¡± She mounted the rest of the stairs and disappeared onto the second level. Emmalene tapped her pen on the edge of the inkwell and waited. Somebody would come along soon, somebody amazing. They¡¯d have some incredible story to tell. Maybe it would even be one of the Founders. Maiken would love hearing about that¡­ A momentary worry crossed Emmalene¡¯s mind, distracting her from her current thoughts. Hopefully Maiken was safe and back in their room by now. She¡¯d be worried about Emmalene, but she¡¯d live. Eventually she¡¯d go out to some party and forget all about her roommate. Which was absolutely fine by Emmalene. After recording a story or two, she¡¯d head back to Chronicle and get some research done before going to sleep early. Between revenants and her manuscript, she¡¯d need the extra sleep. Especially if she had to deal with Loren again. Maybe something the revenants said could help her with that. Then again, maybe not. She¡¯d just have to see. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Surely the sun had fallen low in the sky back in Chronicle, but Maiken had no clue what sort of day-schedule Springwood ran on. And even if she had known, Loren¡¯s hideout didn¡¯t have any convenient windows. Not that she¡¯d want anyone to see her now. The girl watching her every move--Thyra--had gotten bored of filing her nails with her knife and had instead taken the blade to Maiken¡¯s hair. Her carefully-cut long style now lay on the floor in piles. The remaining length on her head scratched at her neck and pointed ears, longer on the right than on the left. And a handful of scratches ran all around her forehead and cheeks from errant knife-strokes. Or maybe they weren¡¯t errant. As per Loren¡¯s order, there had been no attempt made on her life. But Thyra might very well deal the killing blow socially if this ever got out. Right now, the yellow-earringed girl was taking her knife to the edges of Maiken¡¯s clothes, trying to make them ¡®cuter¡¯. As if her perfect combination of skin-tight and flowing wasn¡¯t already in fashion. Maiken had to laugh at all the thoughts running through her head, though she didn¡¯t dare do so out loud. Maybe her consciousness had finally caught up with reality and refused to accept it. Every day, though nobody saw it, she seemed to slip closer and closer to the edge of her sanity. Maybe she¡¯d finally broken. Any time now the voices would start up again¡­ A woman walked into the dark room, too old to be a student. She had long black hair divided into dreadlocks, and her dark skin contrasted with her thin white clothing that hung from an elastic collar and left her shoulders bare. Or, well, it would have contrasted. The woman had the same white-grey translucence as all the other people that wandered into Maiken¡¯s mind. Maiken felt herself stiffen involuntarily, eyes locked on the woman in the doorway. Thyra looked up, knife pausing. After looking back at the doorway, she laughed. ¡°Trying to trick me? Or did you really see a ghost?¡± She went back to cutting slits in Maiken¡¯s leggings. Maiken blinked, trying to see if the figure disappeared. But not, she still stood there. The ghosts didn¡¯t normally follow her this far into Silverleaf. Even though most campuses connected to a town or city, several simply floated in random places and served as hubs for other campuses. Places like that were the ¡®inner¡¯ campuses, and the others were ¡®outer¡¯. Lakeside, where Emmalene had run off, was an outer campus. If Maiken had stayed long enough there, some ghost would¡¯ve come walking through her mind. But in these inner campuses, she was normally safe from her own delusions. Not anymore, apparently. Maiken¡¯s breath seemed to catch in her throat, her gazing never leaving the woman as she wandered closer. None of them had ever hurt her, but then again, they¡¯d never shown up in the inner campuses. Maybe this was the day. No. Stop thinking like that. It¡¯s all in your head. Maiken closed her eyes and bowed her head. Just go away. I can¡¯t see you. You¡¯re not really there. Thyra looked up. ¡°Aw, did I hurt you?¡± She poked the tip of her knife into Maiken¡¯s stomach. She winced, but said nothing. Don¡¯t let her break your concentration. ¡°Tough, girl, are you?¡± Thyra let a little blood slide along the blade before withdrawing it. ¡°Can¡¯t let you lose too much of that, can I?¡± The wound stung, but Maiken gave the ghost her full attention. The woman wandered closer, looking this way and that until her gaze settled on Maiken. She leaned forward and caught herself on both sides of the chair, face to face with its delusional occupant. ¡°You mustn¡¯t let him find it. You mustn¡¯t let him take it. There are dark times ahead¡­¡± For the moments she said the words, her eyes looked crystal clear, but a fog soon crept back into her gaze. She let go of the chair and wandered around the room again before stumbling back through the doorway and out of sight. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re not dying, are you?¡± Maiken looked down at Thyra, who had an uncharacteristic look of concern on her face. ¡°No. Why would I be?¡± The look vanished. ¡°Good. Because I don¡¯t want to be responsible if Loren comes back and you¡¯re lying on the ground.¡± She sheathed her knife and went back to sitting in the other chair. ¡°I wonder if there¡¯s anything fun happening back at Adona¡¯s. He¡¯s always got a girl or two skipping classes for him¡­¡± Maiken couldn¡¯t care less what the girl said. Her mind still turned over the words that the ghost had spoken to her. Don¡¯t let him find it. If you do, don¡¯t let him take it. There are dark times ahead¡­ None of it sounded good. And, from her current position, Maiken couldn¡¯t do anything about it.