Shadowborn Academy_ Year One (Dark Fae Academy #1) - G. Bailey Page 0,25
a grin over his shoulder. “Not a fan of stairs, pretty lady?”
“Not a fan of dying, pretty boy?” I spit back, though I smile innocently when he glances over at me. “Just kidding.”
“You’ll get used to Corvina’s sense of humour,” Sage tells him. “So, about this whole death-by-stairs thing. How does everyone get around? There must be a quicker way.”
“Most people tend to translocate,” he answers curtly. “Others are able to travel through the light. Lamps. Torches. Candles. Fireplaces. You name it. It all depends on your skill level.”
“Suppose we’re just noobs,” I ponder, throwing Sage a glance. We’re hardly newbies when it comes to dark magic. Pitch and Ambrose have taught me, and subsequently Sage, too much for that to be true. Funny how I’ve never asked them to teach me translocation. I make a mental note to check the book Greyhorn gave me later. “Does that mean we have to walk everywhere?”
“Yeah, but there are quicker ways to get around.”
“Like what?”
“The turrets.”
“You mean the small round thingies attached to the castle?” Sage chimes in, clearly delighted by his description.
He pauses for a moment. “I guess that’s one way to describe them. These towers are somewhat different since they have turrets and crenulations on the top of them. Basically, any tower which has those also has a secret passageway that runs all the way down to the Lower Half of the academy. It’s a lot of stairs, sometimes an elevator if you’re lucky, but it’s easier than having to walk through the whole castle just to get to one room.”
A sapphire light emanates from below, swelling up against the stone walls to cast an eerie shadow around us. I step onto what I really hope is the last staircase, taking took note of what Ronan divulged. So far, I’ve only come across two towers like that—the dormitories and the tower above the entrance where Greyhorn said I failed his test.
“Just be careful,” Ronan adds. “This academy has a mind of its own and one wrong turn could lead you into the deepest of the Cave Tunnels. Quite a number of students have gone missing down there, so watch out.”
As we emerge from the tower into a stone courtyard, I say to Ronan: “You’re an extremely cheery person, aren’t you, Mr Fairweather?”
He chuckles and stretches his arms, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. I instinctively copy him, relieved to see the back of that stuffy tower. Students chatter around us, practicing various levels of spells and showing off to each other. Across the courtyard, beyond the wrought-iron gate towering over us, stands the Ghoul Bridge paving a way into the Enchanted Forest.
“Where’s the teacher?” Sage asks, looking around the courtyard. There’s no one wearing any school robes.
“Beats me. We arrived on time, didn’t we?”
Ronan checks the watch on his wrist. “Yup. Maybe he’s running behind.”
I notice all the other students rushing over to the gate, oohing and aahing.
Exchanging a raised glance with Sage, we head over to find out what the hell is going on. It’s a little difficult at first with the intensity of the glaring sunlight, but once the sun dips behind a cloud, I can see what’s got everybody so excited about.
The water running underneath the Ghoul Bridge and into the forest is moving.
Not rippling or shooting a fish out of the water like a shuttlecock.
It’s literally moving, forming a mane of crystal-clear water that trickles into the head of a horse. Hooves stretch out from the illusion and thud onto the ground. Splashes of water shoot up from the surface, creating arms and a swishing tail made of seaweed that flicks droplets of water onto the students.
And then the illusion isn’t an illusion at all.
It’s a kelpie.
The half-man, half-horse rises from the depths of the water. His upper body is powerful and heaving, dripping with water that races down his tattooed arms and chest. I’m not familiar with the symbols per se, but I know they are the ancient runes of Atlantis. His dark mane and tail swish around him like seaweed caught in an ocean current, and his coat and skin are a deep, rich emerald that shimmers in the sunlight. I’ve never seen anything like him before.
The students applaud his entrance. I give him a couple of claps, too, admittedly impressed by his little trick. Centaurs are known for having style, and they like to show it off, but reading about it is one thing, experiencing it is a different thing altogether.