Kelcie Murphy and the Academy for the Unbreakable Arts by Erika Lewis

Author:Erika Lewis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

17

KING BALOR’S EVIL EYE

THE WALK TO the Shadow was the longest of Kelcie’s life. It wasn’t yet lunchtime, so campus was busy. The rest of the first years were inside the Nether Tower in combat class, but the upperclassmen were on the practice fields. They stopped sparring to stare at Kelcie, Brona, and Niall padding after Scáthach, heads down, in silence—an obvious walk of shame.

Killian sheathed his sword and started toward them, but Scáthach sent him back to class with a head shake.

There was one friendly face. Striker greeted Kelcie with a howling smile at the cliff’s edge. He was a welcome sight. She stroked his back, trying to keep her nerves at bay as he walked between her and Brona, through the gate. They followed a cobblestone path that wove around trees as if the trees were there first. All the while, sea eagles piped in greeting from their perches on the wall’s ramparts where they kept watch, except for on the part Kelcie had blown down. Roswen hadn’t gotten to that yet.

In the middle of the grounds was a simple castle with four round towers marking the corners. With a wave of Scáthach’s hand, a drawbridge lowered over the moat.

“This way.” She crossed it in two long strides.

As Kelcie entered the castle, she glanced over at Niall, but he kept his eyes fixed on Scáthach. Oddly enough, it was Brona who was looking at her, giving her a small reassuring smile.

Bronze heads with gaping mouths carved into vaulted arched ceilings frowned down on them.

“She’s the one who blew down our wall!” a head with an abnormally long handlebar mustache griped.

“Why is Scáthach bringing her insi—?”

Scáthach stabbed the spear into its mouth. “Why I brought you four with me when I left the Isle of Skye is a mystery to me, and always will be.”

“We watch your hallways!” Handlebar Mustache called. “And your back!”

Cubbies lining the walls were filled with axes, spears, swords, bows, full quivers, and shields. All shiny and stacked neatly from shortest to tallest. It looked more like an armory than a principal’s office.

“Are those fairy nets?” Niall asked, pointing to metal mesh blankets hanging from pegs.

“Yes. Good eye, O’Shea.”

“I knew that,” Brona uttered.

Kelcie tried to lighten the mood. “Quite the arsenal. Never took up knitting?”

“Once. About ten thousand years ago. Skye was frigid. I needed a scarf. Made for a very long, very miserable day.” Scáthach paused beside the last door at the very end of the hallway. She glanced at Striker faithfully glued to Kelcie’s side. “Patrol,” she ordered.

Striker gave Kelcie a last nuzzle then trotted back the way they came.

“Come in. Take a seat. Don’t touch anything.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kelcie said at the same time as Niall and Brona.

Scáthach’s office was as heavily fortified as the hallway. Shields were mounted above the door, a bow and quiver sat beside an old rust-colored leather sofa, but it was the sword hanging on the wall above Scáthach’s desk that caught Kelcie’s attention.

With a ruby-red grip, the sharp obsidian blade was serrated and double-edged.

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