Page 58 of Into the Isle

Chapter 18

Ravinica

NEXT MORNING, MY BODY ached. I sat on the edge of my bed and stared down at a thin slip of paper. My schedule.

The pain in my calf had turned into a dull throb. It was starting to scab over when I checked before rewrapping it. I thought of all the things I’d learned about the man who had rescued me, Grim Kollbjorn. The alleged cannibalistic bear shifting berserker.

What in all hells have I gotten myself into?

My first class in an hour was called “History & Tomes,” with Hersir Thorvi Kardeen. I knew it would be one I could ace because I was good with books and learning. Even though I couldn’t use any powers to Shape the runes, I excelled at book-learning. It boded well for me once I could do magic.

Second up was “Combat & Strategy,” another class I knew I’d do well in. In Selby Village, I had dominated everyone in combat. Even if I wasn’t the best here—since everyone here was the best of their respective town—I knew I could carry my weight when it came to spear, sword, and axe work. That one was with Hersir Axel Osfen.

The names of the Hersir professors at Vikingrune Academy meant nothing to me. I didn’t know Axel from Oxen. I just hope the teachers treat me better than the students.

After that was a lunch break, which I knew I’d need after all the physicality involved in combat class.

My penultimate class was “Stealth & Interrogation” with Hersir Kelvar. He didn’t appear to have a surname, according to my schedule slip.

I was curious about that one. It sounded exciting. I’d always opted for forthrightness and forwardness rather than subterfuge, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to learn a thing or two about the finer aspects of trickery. Especially if I was going to be Grim Kollbjorn’s “little sneak.” Had to do the moniker justice.

Finally, to round out the day, I had Runeshaping Basics with Hersir Greta Selken. A wave of butterflies pushed through my stomach when I read the class name, worried how I would fare. What am I even going to do in that class, while everyone is learning to Shape runes and cast spells? Twiddle my damn thumbs?

There was nothing quite like jumping feet-first into the fjord. Maybe some frustration from that class would finally kick my dormant inherent magic into gear.

Before any of the classes, I needed to eat. Before going to sleep I’d washed my shirt, pants, and underwear in my sink. It wasn’t ideal, but at least I wouldn’t stink.

Standing from my bed, I instinctively reached for the spear I’d brought from home. It rested against the wall. My hand hesitated, opening to grab it, and then I slowly veered over to the backpack sitting next to it.

I wasn’t yet sure if I was allowed to bring my spear around with me, despite what had happened last night in the woods. I didn’t want to get in trouble on my first day. Plus, I didn’t want to seem like I was scared and had to stay armed in order to protect myself from my peers.

Drawing as little attention to myself as possible was key. So I grabbed the pack rather than the spear—the pen rather than the sword—and limped a step out into the hall to attend my first day of classes at Vikingrune Academy.

The mess hall longhouse was bustling with activity. Students lined the edges in a lengthy queue, waiting for cafeteria workers to slop food onto their plates. The grub didn’t look very appetizing. It’s better than nothing.

As I squeezed myself into the back of the line, I noticed the mess hall was co-ed. Dagny had told me there were multiple mess halls scattered around campus. This one was between Nottdeen and Nottdan Quarters, and the most popular with first-years.

My eyes landed on a few faces I recognized from orientation, and a few others I didn’t. Our initiate class was only a few dozen people. Seems the recruitment rate at Vikingrune has stayed notoriously small this year.

I caught a flash of crossword-puzzle hair and my head whipped over to see Dagny walking by, tray in her hand, on the way out.

Part of me wanted to call out to her. I was feeling decidedly lonely, while other students seemed to already have their friend groups. The various tables and long-benches in the high-ceilinged hall were filled with chatting initiates.

The other part of me won over, staying quiet, not wanting to raise my voice and draw attention to myself.

Luckily, Dagny tossed the scraps of her food into a trash bin, turned around, and sauntered over to me. My heart leapt as she approached. I’d been worried she was ignoring me to make it seem like she didn’t know me.

Instead, she smiled. She dabbed her rosy cheeks and lips with a napkin, burped softly, and patted her belly. “Rav.”

“Dag.” I gave her a shy smile.

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