Travel by Glint cost just to activate the runes, a mana cost that was sometimes converted to rin to discourage whimsical travel even by the rich. The old man had lead him back into the arcanist’s hall, having a scribe write down directions. Then he handed Declan a second fifty-rin coin as though it were trash. “I’ll see you here tomorrow at dawn.”

  A hundred rin in his purse made Declan more fearful than bold. He was never a good target and now the darker streets looked dangerous. The regional capital was vast compared to the Foundry and the small town that served it. Merchants stretched for blocks, and prices would shock as much as wonders. Declan moved from lamplight to lamplight until he found Harper’s Inn, a three-story building that shook and rattled as the party on the first floor raged.

  At the door, a man so thick Pop would be impressed scanned him up and down. “Room?”

  “For the night.” Declan tried to draw himself up taller but there was simply a truth that he wasn’t ever going to be a muscular titan. But he could look and walk and talk like a man.

  The doorman pointed to the bar. “Sit there until Alma says otherwise. Throw a punch and I throw you. Any weapons? You can have them but I better know.”

  “Tools,” Declan said, then showed the trio of bearings. “And Training tools.” Cannonballs might technically be weapons but since Declan wasn’t carrying a cannon, they were only dangerous to toes. At the doorman’s nod, he slipped in and took a seat at the bar.

  “Name’s Alma. What’ya having, love?” asked a woman with an apron tied on and a towel over each shoulder. “Here for company, a meal or the night?”

  “The second two,” Declan said. “Your cheapest room and meal, please.”

  “Love?” Alma said, drawing his attention from the dancing crowd. “Relax. See Milburt at the door? He’ll break the arm of anyone who steals from me instead of for me. And Fish, he’s in the crowd. You won’t see him. Unless you do something dumb and you look like a smart boy.”

  “I’m a man,” Declan protested.

  “And I’m the fucking sun queen,” Alma answered. “Rooms are all the same, you eat what we serve. You out of Mazal, here with the grain? First time in the lovely city? Or did you swim off a ship in the port?”

  So many questions. Declan wanted to answer but the order and the response were all wrong. “Dad works in Foundrytown, I was here for the arcanist test, now I’ve got work as a workman. And I am smart. Smart enough to know not to do something when you just told me there’s a knifer in the crowd.”

  Alma was carrying on three different conversations at once, switching between them with ease, but moments later, she sat down a bowl of beef stew in front of him. “He’s not in the crowd anymore, he’s sitting to the right. The other right. So relax a bit and eat, nervous people make Fish nervous.”

  Fish was the bald man in the suspenders and pants to his right, a man who spun a silver filet knife on the bar top and ate from a bowl of his own. “How long you in town for?”

  “One night,” Declan said. “I’m going to go to bed soon. I have to be up early.”

  “Room’s busy,” Fish said. “Let Alma’s girls clean it once they’re done, she’ll tell you when. Ashes, boy, you’re wound up like a spring. Ain’t nothing in those bags but three lumps of metal, a shattered bloodstone, and a pocket full of rin. That’s not worth getting my knife dirty over.”

  Declan felt for his purse. It was still inside his shirt-but the tie was different, green ribbon. “How?”

  Fish grunted and kept eating. Then stopped and stared until Declan did.

  The party was a marriage and the marriage was a party and it wasn’t clear who the lucky couple were and who had just been trying to eat when the festivities broke out. But then a minstrel began to play. Declan couldn’t sing to save himself from a blazed beast, but he could clap along as the minstrel began a tale he’d heard often, of the great arcanist Xin Xi, who had destroyed an overswarm all alone with nothing but the seven runes in his arcsoul.

  The tap on his shoulder startled him from the song. Alma leaned over. “Bed’s five rin. But if you’re willing to stay up a few more hours, I could make it three and add breakfast? Got an emergency customer with a powerful need.”

  Declan nodded. “Sounds like a deal. I have to be at the arcanist’s hall at sunrise.”

  “Aye, we all got work to do, love.” She gave him a toothy smile and went back to whisper to a woman at the bar.

  ###

  It had been late when the room was free, but the mattress was deniably dirty and the bed sheets fresh and Declan, a man from Foundry had his head pounding and the world spinning when he finally lay down. The stomping and cheering lulled him into a deep sleep, one broken by the pounding at his door. “Sunrise in fifteen, love,” Alma called. “Fish collected payment while you was sleeping. Eat up and head on, safe travels.”

  Of course the thief had. He counted out the rin. Sure enough, only three gone, and headed down to the front where one of the night-ladies worked the front, dishing porridge. The air was cold, the dew thick and frost had formed on the tops of the store-front canopies. He moved quickly, falling into the other workers moving with purpose. The arcanist’s hall stood near the city center, and on Keel’s instruction, he took the side alley and rapped on the door.

  The answer was immediate.

  The elder examiner stepped out wearing a faded silver cloak. “Come. We have much to do before the candidates arrive for induction. Have you traveled by glint?”

  “I hadn’t left Foundrytown until a week ago,” Declan said. He kept his pace slow so Keel could keep up. “What’s it like?”

  “Like mana is tearing you into shreds and reconstituting those shreds elsewhere. There’s a reason the ArCore use it more than anyone else. They’re used to pain.” Despite his crippled leg, the old man kept a decent pace, a pace that didn’t change a bit as sirens rang out across the city and the cry rose up, “Blazed beasts! Incoming Swarm! Take cover!”

  Keel kept moving methodically, relentlessly. He looked back to Declan. “What are you cowering for? You want to be an arcanist, this is a happy sound. It’s the sound of runes and rune shards coming your way.”

  “And how, exactly, do I kill one?” Declan said as he struggled keep up.

  “That would be a problem. We’ll have to hope for the best. Glint array is just this way. Of course, it’s probably what’s attracting them. Now, some ground rules.” Keel stopped, blocking the doorway, even though a scream nearby had Declan on edge. “From the moment we reach the Academy, I am Instructor Skinner. Say it. Never ‘Keel.’ Instructor Skinner.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Declan repeated it twice. The sound of breaking wood and shouting guards made him both excited and worried. “Shouldn’t these ArCore be here?”

  “Eventually,” Instructor Skinner passed through an arched doorway and down a hallway broad enough for hundreds. “Yes, they’re tuning the glint array now. Feel the mana?”

  It was humming. Vibrating. Almost screaming. Then just ahead of Kee—Instructor Skinner, the ground erupted in yellow light as rune after rune blazed to life. These were so complex Declan’s head ached just from looking at them. One more pulse of briliance, and the light stabilized into a suffused glow that consumed the entire room ahead. Except...the far wall was no longer visible, and the floor was covered in glowing yellow runes that moved and changed in a pattern.

  GLINT SUB ARRAY 121.

  The words brought another blinding headache.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Instructor Skinner raised his cane and pushed Declan to the side. Just in time, as a group of six arcanists emerged like they were stepping from a fog. Many had runes orbiting already and most carried swords, hammers, or spears and shields.

  “Warband,” said the leader, before rushing past.

  “It’s time.” Instructor Skinner dipped his head, then looked back to the glint array. “If you want this, prove it. You can’t imagine the pain of your first glint trip. We toss students through with Force Blast. But you’re headed to a different kind of battle one fought with stubborness as much as glowing rocks, so go. And remember, the moment you step in, you can’t step out.”

  Declan tried to calm the worry in his stomach. No one loved pain. No one sought pain. But just past the pain lay opportunity. He forced himself to take a step. And another and another. Two steps from the mist, his skin began to tingle and the nearest runes burned brighter.

  “Easier if you just jump in, especially the first time,” Instructor Skinner said. “Next time, it will hurt every bit as badly. But you’ll know what it’s like, and that makes it even harder.”

  “Will you please shut up?” Declan took another step. A half step separated him.

  He moved.

  The world burst into pain as his foot touched the glyph. It wasn’t like walking, it was like his foot had been caught in a arcite roller and was slowly being ripped away.

  “Don’t step back, keep going!” someone shouted.

  His hands shook and his entire body ached, but Declan forced his hind foot to move, a wide step that carried him further. His skin burned. Every nerve lit on fire as the yellow enveloped him and he was moments from collapse. Another step enveloped his lower body and tore at his chest. His legs wouldn’t move, his arms were possibly attached but he couldn’t feel them. Something struck his back, and Declan stumbled forward, not thinking, not breathing. He tripped and fell. His toolbox clattered to the ground, the pack wound up under him. His eyes might have been open but the gray covered the world. No—his eyes were squeezed closed. The grass under him was wet, the air so cold it stabbed his lungs with each breath. His hands shook but that was probably the chill, not the agony. Continuing rolls of thunder drowned out the pounding of his heart.

  “Welcome to Ariloch Academy,” Instructor Skinner said. “Wipe the vomit from your mouth, stand up, and follow me. Classes are already in session, so this is an ideal time to see the campus. We’ll start with the World Wound, where blazed beasts most often appear. We have secondary glint arrays in Administration and the ArCore barracks but it’s cheaper to use that one.”

  “Can we do that later?” Declan spat and wiped his chin, pushing himself up. His whole body ached, and the yellow light behind him now had meaning. It was worse knowing what was coming. “I can barely walk let alone run from a blazed beast.”

  “We could, but you’re already there.” Instructor Skinner waved his cane in a circle. “Mana is thicker here than anywhere else in the world. And though you are not an arcanist proper, even you can take advantage of that. Many who have yet to master their blood-rune find it easier to activate here.”

  Declan surveyed the site of legend. Green grass covered a deep bowl a thousand paces wide. Wide paved stone circles dotted the grass and three boulders of glittering black stone stood at equidistant points across the bowl. At the bottom stood a large stone dome. “I don’t see this ‘world wound.’”

  “The wound is deep, deep beneath the earth. This area is colorfully called ‘the scab’ by students as it sits atop the wound. But this is where the blazed beasts spawn. Where arcanists come to hunt, where they come to grow their arcsouls, to gather rune fragments. Effort here is returned at a rate nowhere else can equal.” He pivoted and pointed. “At each cardinal point lies one of the noble houses. The minor houses are further out. We’re going north to House Ariloch.”

  High above, thunder rumbled, and Declan looked up. Lightning in every color of the rainbow leaped from outside the bowl to disappear into nothing high above. Then it struck again, and again, from different directions.

  Declan was still unstable, but the sooner he left the literally most dangerous place in the world, the better. And they weren’t alone. Half a dozen arcanists stood or sat in the grass. Some had runes orbiting, simple orbs emblazoned with a circle glyph, but others lay back, almost napping. “If this is so dangerous, why aren’t they alert?”

  “Their arcsoul will tell them when an blazed beast is near. The more powerful the arcsoul grows, the more sensitive it is. Or they don’t have it open yet and they’re willing to risk death for power. Almost everyone here is an adult, the risk is theirs to embrace.” Instructor Skinner led the way up the bowl. “Each house is laid out in a similar fashion.”

  They’d reached the top of the bowl. A wide paved road surrounded it, wide enough for two wagons. Just beyond that lay heavy metal gates with beautiful artwork wrought in the steel. Beyond it stood a training yard where arcanists worked, physical training, orbiting runes or actively trading spells, and beyond that stood what could only technically be called a house. The red brick building was vast. A pair of double doors was framed by wide windows that glinted with mana enchantments, and five stories of rooms looked down over the world wound. The building stretched further away than he could easily see. Between it and the next stretched green lawns with lines of spiked metal fences, and atop the front stood a tall pole, like a flag pole—except that it continued to arc lightning toward the world wound.

  “The mazes are defenses,” Instructor Skinner said. “Weaker blazed beasts have no intelligence. They are easily confused and confused is vulnerable. Vulnerable beasts can be harvested for runes and shards. These are a resource for the house and its residents and another reason to look forward to deadly swarms.”

  “I love the woodwork on the columns,” Declan said.

  “House Rush has one of the finest sculptors in the world. Let’s show you House Ariloch.” One limping step at a time, they circled the world wound. When they stopped, Declan’s heart sank. The gates were rusted and only one hung on the metal arch at the center of the fence. House Ariloch, it read. The ‘training area’ was overrun heavy bushes, leaving a path that wound toward the front porch, the side area bare dirt with no maze, no traps. The mast out front was a sculpture, not a pole, of a dragon with its neck outstretched. Lightning burst from its mouth in time to thunder over the scab.

  The front doors stood slightly open, both windows were broken, and a thick stench drifted from the house even at a distance. The high pitched roof had missing black shingles and even now, when class was supposedly in session, someone deep inside was engaged in a screaming match. The walls were probably once white stone but now moss covered them and vines had crawled all the way up the columns on the front porch and hung like a curtain across the front. A bonfire had been lit in the front yard and those were probably the remains of doors and furniture in the cold ash.

  “It is truly stunning,” Instructor Skinner said. “What do you think? There’s still time. The glint array is active. It will hurt, but you’ve survived it once. On the other hand, there are benefits to being here. If you are strong enough. If you have the will to survive.”

  “Increased mana. But I can’t attend the classes.”

  The instructor held his palms out. “Perhaps not. Nor can you use the mana focus facilities to unlock your arcsoul, or access academy pricing on runes. The paths to power are always guarded. But here there are many, and it’s impossible to guard every one.”

  Arcanists patrolled the round brick streets around the world wound and activated runes to leap atop the black pillars and keep watch. Then two got into a shouting match and began to activate runes, firing sprays of ice and fire at each other until one fled. “Is that common?”

  “Fighting to control a capstone and grow their arcsoul atop it? That’s common. It’s uncommon for it to end without injury. This is not some schoolyard, this is the greatest training ground for arcanists in world. And you have no runes. No money. No noble house backing you. Can you survive here long enought to grow?” Skinner’s question sounded genuine.

  Running home would only leave him asking what might have been. He hefted his toolbox, unslung his pack and made his decision. “I’ve got work to do, Instructor Skinner. I’m the house arcanist, and this is my house.”