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The dragon closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and listening in silence. “No,” he said, but he kept his eyes closed, his head cocked slightly to one side as he inhaled. A deep rumble vibrated through his chest. “Hm.”
“What is it?” Heath asked.
The dragon shook his head slowly from side to side. “I’m not sure yet.”
Heath narrowed his eyes. “You’re feeling magic, aren’t you?” he said, excitement building within him. “There really are magical people living here!”
Rekavidur did his rippling shrug. “Perhaps.”
Heath waited, aware there was more behind the dragon’s words, but Reka didn’t elaborate.
“Well, let’s have a look around,” Heath said at last, accepting that his friend would share his thoughts when he was ready, and not before.
He adjusted his rucksack more comfortably across his back, and started toward the jungle. He crossed the sand quickly, beginning to climb the rocky section of land beyond it. The air was thick and hot, and sweat was already beading on his forehead. The dragon loped beside him, taking the rocks in easy strides, but keeping to a slow pace so as to remain in line with his companion.
“Heath, look.”
Heath pulled his eyes back from his contemplation of the beach behind him, and their lonely tracks on the otherwise untouched sand.
“What is—” He cut himself off, seeing at a glance what had captured Reka’s attention.
Rising up from the jungle was a stone wall, clearly constructed by human hands. Heath’s heart leaped at this sign of human habitation, and he surged forward. But his elation was short-lived. The structure wasn’t far from the beach, and he reached it within a minute. But it was evident even before then that the stone wasn’t part of a building so much as a ruin. He slowed his pace, passing under a crumbling archway into what had surely once been a wide courtyard.
It was hard to get a sense of its original size, given the creepers tangling across the space, and the trees forcing their way up between the paving stones. But it was certainly no natural structure. The stones had clearly been cut, and the remains of a stone wall of impressive height rose up on the far side of the courtyard. That building, too, had been reclaimed by the jungle, overgrown with vines, much of its stone surface covered with moss.
The abandoned ruins were beautiful and eerie in equal measure, and Heath felt a chill pass over him despite the hot stickiness of the air.
“No one’s lived here for a long time,” observed Reka unnecessarily, dislodging a loose stone as he squeezed his reptilian form through the archway behind Heath.
Heath nodded absently, his eyes scanning the structure before him for any clue as to what had happened here.
“Perhaps, like your people, those with magic had conflict with those without magic, and they eventually annihilated one another completely.”
Heath turned to the dragon, a snippy retort on his lips, but his words died at Reka’s familiar inquisitive expression. The dragon wasn’t making fun of Heath’s fears. He was perfectly serious. A shudder passed over Heath’s form as he turned back to the ruins.
“Let’s not assume the worst,” he said firmly. “Maybe they just moved to a different part of the island.” He turned back toward the archway, hefting his rucksack with determination. “Come on. Let’s go deeper.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“As most of you know,” Instructor Wivell’s eyes lingered on Merletta for a moment, “this is the hall of the scribes.”
Merletta ignored the veiled reference to her ignorance, as she was fast becoming used to doing. Ileana’s snide comments were harder to take, but she did her best to tune them out as she scanned the vast space before her.
“That’s right, take a good look,” Ileana taunted in a quiet but audible aside, as their literacy instructor drifted over to speak to one of the scribes. “This is where you’ll be working, if you’re very lucky and somehow manage to fluke your first year tests.”
Merletta bit back the retort that rose to her lips. The day had barely begun—it was far too early to let Ileana bait her.
“That’s no way to speak, Ileana,” chided Sage unexpectedly. She gave Merletta a small nod, her lips curving up at the edges in what was almost a smile. “The scribes have a very important job, and to join their ranks is an honor.”
Merletta turned away quickly, not quite able to return the smile. Her face, which had remained stony at Ileana’s snide remark, was heating in a flush. Sage clearly meant to be encouraging, but her attempted kindness was even worse that Ileana’s sneers. She may have phrased it more politely, but she clearly thought Merletta had little chance of succeeding beyond the first year of study.
“All right.”
Merletta turned gratefully to Instructor Wivell, who began to rattle out directions.
“Emil,” he turned to the fourth year student, “the head scribe is expecting you. I believe he intends to continue your lessons on etymology. Once he is finished, return to my classroom. Instructor Ibsen has filled me in on your most recent topic with him. I will test you—I hope you’ve been upgrading your mind palace since last time. If there is time afterward, we will run through some simple spaced repetitions.”
Emil nodded, swimming briskly away.
