looming above the trees ahead. He nudged Calder and pointed, and the pair watched silently as proximity revealed more detail.
A statue made of black stone finally came into view. The figure was human in appearance, but its head and most of its torso were missing. The stub of its remaining arm pointed across the road. The carriage rode through its shadow, and the boys craned their necks as they passed.
“Who did that used to be?” Bayan asked.
Philo looked up from his papers. “One of the Duelist Academy founders, or perhaps a famous duelist from the First Tuathi War. The Academy was originally founded down here in the valley. After being destroyed twice, despite fortifications, it was moved to the cliff tops. The ruins of the original Academy are said to be sacred, or haunted, depending whom you ask, so they remain untouched, an elegy to the dead of wars past and a warning never to lose vigilance against the enemies of the Waarden.”
Bayan looked back out the window. Through the trees, he made out shadowy ruins of tumbled stone and broad, straight lanes of weedy cobblestones. An air of quiet desolation pervaded the scene—of warriors lost to time and memory, whose deeds no longer mattered to the living. Bayan’s skin pebbled, and he wondered if he would fade from the world’s memory as completely when he had finished walking its ways.
“How old is it?” he asked.
“The Academy was founded during the first Tuathi invasions,” Calder answered, “almost two millennia ago. These rocks are about as old as the Waarden Empire itself.”
Kipri grinned. “Someone’s going to do well in history class.” Philo let out a soft titter of amusement.
Eventually, the carriage pulled up to a guard post carved from the cliff side. The sun hid behind the cliff, and the cool air of morning made Bayan wish he had warmer clothing. A dark cave loomed next to the guard post. The arch of its mouth looked too smooth to be naturally formed.
“Are we going in there?” Bayan gazed into its shadowed interior. He thought he could see a dim light high up inside it.
A guard approached the carriage and held up a hand. Philo’s riders gave him space to approach. The long iron tip on his spear had backward-pointing spines at its base and reminded Bayan of the boar-stickers back home.
“Morning, Surveyor. What’s your business at the Academy today?” the guard asked.
“I have two trainees with me who are eager to begin classes.”
One, maybe , Bayan thought.
“Two?” the guard echoed. “Then I believe you’ll give the headmaster cause to celebrate.” He turned to Bayan and Calder. “You boys take care up there. We’re honored to have you with us.”
He stepped back and called an order to the other guards. One of them acknowledged the order and stepped into a back room. Moments later, a series of lamps lit within the cave, lining and illuminating an inclined stone road, and equally failing to brighten a broad, dark crevasse that sliced clear through it, leaving a broad gap across the stone’s surface from one cave wall to the other. A heavy, low grinding sound echoed inside the cave, and a wooden ramp made of pale planks rose into position, bridging the crevasse and completing the road. Several metallic clanks followed.
When all was silent, the guard stepped aside. “The drawbridge is locked; you may proceed up to the cliff road. When you’re ready to return, speak to the guards at the top of the tunnel.”
Philo nodded, then leaned out and asked Fabian and the other riders to wait at the bottom of the hill. They nodded and dismounted, leading their horses off the road.
Nic urged the carriage horses forward onto the wooden ramp. They balked at first, then adopted a skittish trot. Their hooves thudded across the drawbridge. The road’s angle wasn’t steep, and the faint light at the tunnel’s far end drew elongated shadow streaks along the tunnel walls. Soon, the wooden section ended and roughened stone took them
A statue made of black stone finally came into view. The figure was human in appearance, but its head and most of its torso were missing. The stub of its remaining arm pointed across the road. The carriage rode through its shadow, and the boys craned their necks as they passed.
“Who did that used to be?” Bayan asked.
Philo looked up from his papers. “One of the Duelist Academy founders, or perhaps a famous duelist from the First Tuathi War. The Academy was originally founded down here in the valley. After being destroyed twice, despite fortifications, it was moved to the cliff tops. The ruins of the original Academy are said to be sacred, or haunted, depending whom you ask, so they remain untouched, an elegy to the dead of wars past and a warning never to lose vigilance against the enemies of the Waarden.”
Bayan looked back out the window. Through the trees, he made out shadowy ruins of tumbled stone and broad, straight lanes of weedy cobblestones. An air of quiet desolation pervaded the scene—of warriors lost to time and memory, whose deeds no longer mattered to the living. Bayan’s skin pebbled, and he wondered if he would fade from the world’s memory as completely when he had finished walking its ways.
“How old is it?” he asked.
“The Academy was founded during the first Tuathi invasions,” Calder answered, “almost two millennia ago. These rocks are about as old as the Waarden Empire itself.”
Kipri grinned. “Someone’s going to do well in history class.” Philo let out a soft titter of amusement.
Eventually, the carriage pulled up to a guard post carved from the cliff side. The sun hid behind the cliff, and the cool air of morning made Bayan wish he had warmer clothing. A dark cave loomed next to the guard post. The arch of its mouth looked too smooth to be naturally formed.
“Are we going in there?” Bayan gazed into its shadowed interior. He thought he could see a dim light high up inside it.
A guard approached the carriage and held up a hand. Philo’s riders gave him space to approach. The long iron tip on his spear had backward-pointing spines at its base and reminded Bayan of the boar-stickers back home.
“Morning, Surveyor. What’s your business at the Academy today?” the guard asked.
“I have two trainees with me who are eager to begin classes.”
One, maybe , Bayan thought.
“Two?” the guard echoed. “Then I believe you’ll give the headmaster cause to celebrate.” He turned to Bayan and Calder. “You boys take care up there. We’re honored to have you with us.”
He stepped back and called an order to the other guards. One of them acknowledged the order and stepped into a back room. Moments later, a series of lamps lit within the cave, lining and illuminating an inclined stone road, and equally failing to brighten a broad, dark crevasse that sliced clear through it, leaving a broad gap across the stone’s surface from one cave wall to the other. A heavy, low grinding sound echoed inside the cave, and a wooden ramp made of pale planks rose into position, bridging the crevasse and completing the road. Several metallic clanks followed.
When all was silent, the guard stepped aside. “The drawbridge is locked; you may proceed up to the cliff road. When you’re ready to return, speak to the guards at the top of the tunnel.”
Philo nodded, then leaned out and asked Fabian and the other riders to wait at the bottom of the hill. They nodded and dismounted, leading their horses off the road.
Nic urged the carriage horses forward onto the wooden ramp. They balked at first, then adopted a skittish trot. Their hooves thudded across the drawbridge. The road’s angle wasn’t steep, and the faint light at the tunnel’s far end drew elongated shadow streaks along the tunnel walls. Soon, the wooden section ended and roughened stone took them
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