Page 40 of Into the Isle

The light from the sun behind me lit up the space around the stage, but not where he stood. I couldn’t get a great look at his face or expression. Luckily, I didn’t need to, because his voice reverberated. Deep, gravelly, filled with importance.

“Hail, initiates, fellow dans and deens,” he began, and all at once the chatter around the hall fell to pin-drop silence. He paced the stage like he owned it, masterfully drawing everyone in with his slow-spoken words. “My name is Sigmund Calladan, Gothi of Vikingrune Academy.”

My mother has told me about this man. A professor when she attended, now headmaster.

The man’s hands came out from behind his back, circling slowly as he talked. “Today is the first day of your future, and I hope it will be a grand one.”

I couldn’t tell if he was smiling beneath his beard. He seemed stoic, straight-backed, and severe as the rest of the men I’d laid eyes on.

“You might be wondering where you are. Specifically. You’ve been thrust onto this large island, knowing nothing. Yes, you are still in Midgard. Barriers protect the Isle from prying eyes. You are not in a magical realm of fairies and demons. At least not yet.”

At that, he wheeled to face the crowd, and I noticed a small smile this time. A smattering of nervous laughter broke out among the audience.

Gothi Sigmund continued his pacing. “Vikingrune was built thousands of years ago on this specific point because this is a Traveler Plane landing zone. Think of it as a terminal at an airport, if you’ve ever been to one. If an enemy wishes to invade this world, they will start at the Isle.” He jabbed his finger down into an open palm. “As such, we are the last defense—or first defense, depending how you look at it—before potential invaders can move onto the wider planet.”

He stopped for a moment, letting all the students mull that over. I figured the dark mist surrounding the Gray Wraith and the borders of this island were part of the magic “barriers” he spoke of, to keep this place away from anyone seeing it.

Humans who could not do magic would not take it well if they learned a school for Viking-born descendants was training men and women to fight interplanar enemies. It was simply too much, so it seemed Sigmund operated under the pretense of pretending like we didn’t exist, and that was better for everyone.

“First, the enemies I mentioned. Our adversaries are vast and endless, which is why you are here. Many of them wish for the bountiful resources of our planet. Some of them used to be allies, and were made enemies due to their greed. I speak of the elves, dwarves, kobolds, gnomes, goblins, trolls, and many more. And, of course, the jotun. The giants.”

A hiss of disapproval shot through the crowd.

Everyone had heard of the jotun from fairytales and myths told to us as children. They were the chief enemies of the Aesir, the gods. They held their own realms, and some believed they were even responsible for the creation of our planet.

“All the inhabitants of the nine realms—or the other eight outside Midgard—are potential enemies. Some have outright declared us threats to their own worlds. In the current fraught state of affairs between realms, we have closed off Midgard to outsiders. We can trust no one but ourselves, my friends. Thus, Vikingrune Academy.”

The headmaster seemed to be getting into a rhythm, telling this tale he had likely spoken a thousand times, to a new iteration of cadets and recruits.

If nothing else, Vikingrune was a military school.

Sigmund made that clear in his next words, as he counted off on his fingers. “That is the enemy. Second, is the plan. The faculty and I have been watching each of you closely, with scrying powers of our elders.”

A few groans and surprised glances met his words, but he continued swiftly. “You are the best of your villages, towns, and cities, which is why you’re here. Our shield wall must be firm and impenetrable in case of an otherworldly attack. We must be ready.

“Our academy is called Vikingrune because the two make up the whole. Our ancestors, the Vikings, were physically imposing and inspired fear. They could accomplish great feats of strength, and were preeminent soldiers in battle. Yet the runes of our forefathers and foremothers also play an important part here, because our magic is what makes us who we are. Our ability to Shape and mold the runes to our benefit enable us to fend off our foes when an attack is imminent. Without both strength and magic, you are lost—we are lost.”

My pulse became erratic when he started speaking of runes, and I started sweating. I worried everyone was looking at me, as if they could sense I was a fraud here; the one woman in the crowd who couldn’t do magic.

Even though runeshaping ran through my veins on my mother’s side and, assumedly, my father’s side, my powers were silent inside me. Typically, Shapers came into their own near their eighteenth birthday. Some younger, some older: Damon, for instance, sparked his first ember at sixteen. Eirik was seventeen. Some took until they were twenty.

And here I was, on the wrong side of twenty-two, and I still couldn’t Shape. It wasn’t that no one had taught me, it was that my powers were dormant. I couldn’t access my “inherent magic,” as it was called.

Now I had a year to force my power to life, or else I’d be a failure and expelled from the academy.

“Honing both sides of your skill set—physical and mental—is why you are here,” Sigmund continued. “You’ve already shown promise, so you will not be treated like newcomers. You will be trained hard, and much will be expected of you. Each of you outclassed every opponent in your respective homeland, yet here, you are all equal. Vikingrune Academy is about teamwork as much as it is solidarity. It is why our emblem is a shield, because the idea of the shield wall—protecting your comrades’ flanks—is what makes us prosper. It’s what makes us the most formidable fighting force against our many enemies.”

It was a resounding statement, and a few students cheered as he fell silent. As much as it worried me I’d never become part of his theoretical shield wall, I was still inspired to give it my all. Even if I can only do the physical stuff for now, perhaps I can impress enough to keep my head here.

Once the cheering and fist-pumping died down, Gothi Sigmund folded his hands together in front of him. “Your classes begin tomorrow. Today, you are to pick up your schedules and familiarize yourselves with the academy grounds. This will be your home for the next year. For some of you, it may be your home forever.”

I inhaled sharply. A few gasps split across the room. The headmaster did not sugarcoat it as he walked to the edge of the stage, peering up at the sea of students before him, and lowered his voice.

“And for some of you . . . Vikingrune Academy will be your final resting place.”

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