Page 93 of Into the Isle

“Name and business outside the academy?” one of the guards asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Gods above, Grant, I was just here earlier today.”

The man frowned. He was in his early thirties—a former student himself who decided to stay on as a protector of the school. “You know the protocol, Arne,” he said. “I’m not trying to get my ass fired.”

I took Ravinica’s hand in mine, surprising her, and pulled her up alongside me. Gesturing with my other hand at her, I said, “What’s wrong with this picture?”

Grant furrowed his brow, readjusted his helmet. “Uhh . . .”

“She looks like a beggar in an alley at Garimar Way.” I glanced at her. “No offense.”

She scowled.

To Grant, I said, “My friend needs new clothes. I’m taking her shopping.”

Grant nodded, stepping aside. “I didn’t want to say nothing about the garb . . .”

I stormed past him before he could finish, pulling Ravinica along behind me. We streamed past the guards at the gate, and abruptly found ourselves on the lip of the western plateau.

From up high, staring down, we could see columns of smoke rising from the dimly lit orange glow of Iselton down below. It was mostly clouded by tree cover. Beyond the small village, the Isle was shaded in murky black, hardly any light to illuminate the land at night. The Delaveer Forest crowded the horizon before leveling lower into the Niflbog in the distance.

“Really, Arne? A beggar?” she chided me.

I smirked. “I wanted to get past without too many questions asked, little fox. I’m sure you’ll forgive me.” We started walking toward a trail that led down the mountainside, cut between high walls that created a crevice. “It’s less than an hour down the mountain. Let’s move before we lose moonlight.”

Unlike the southern trail we’d taken from the Gray Wraith to get to the plateau of the mountain, the western path didn’t wind or fold in on itself—it was a relatively straight, though gravelly, march down.

At one point, we heard a roar of water to our right. I pointed out the Western Falls. It stemmed from a small lake and rivers fed from Academy Hill, draining down the mountainside in a tumble.

“It’s beautiful,” Ravinica said to me.

I had too much on my mind to care about the waterfall. First, I had to manage Ravinica like she was a pup. In Isleton, she practically would be. Should I be giving her instructions on how to act down there?

I shrugged the thought aside. No. She’ll learn, or she won’t. It’ll be a good test for how she manages herself without prompting.

As I’d promised, it took less than an hour to reach the base of the mountain. Isleton was nestled in a nook just outside the mountain’s shadow. We marched through the thinner trees of the Helgas Wood to get to town.

Before arriving, or being able to see it through the trees, I could smell the town. Scents of perfumed goods, spices, and cooking fires filled the night.

I inhaled contentedly. “Smells like old Trond’s cooking up lamb tonight.”

Ravinica fiddled with her wrists in front of her, nervously. She didn’t ask who Trond was—it seemed her questions had fallen silent from her anxiety.

Isleton was a town without walls or borders. It was a smattering of longhouses, lodges, and dwellings amid the Helgas Wood. Further west of it, the wood turned into the Delaveer Forest, where the trees rose up and gobbled up the moon at certain times of night.

This early in the evening, the town was bustling. A cool breeze perpetually swept through the lowland village, tunneled on either side by mountain and forest.

People walked the streets, loudly talking among themselves, laughing, going from lodge to longhouse. A man heaved a wheelbarrow down the main road in front of us, momentarily causing us to stop.

Ravinica had her head on a swivel, checking out all the sights and sounds. She still looked nervous.

As the man with the wheelbarrow passed us, I said, “Relax, little fox.”

“It’s busy here.”

“Aye. Isleton is a place to unwind, for students to blow off some steam. I suggest you do the same. I’m sure you recognize some of your classmates.”

With a nod, she said, “It reminds me a bit of Selby Village at night.”

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