Duran tried to breathe harder, his lungs unable to catch up. The other students were pulling ahead, posture straight and heads facing forward, keeping their steps in perfect time. Ahead of them the mountain stretched up, a faint path beaten into the rock by hundreds of feet. The quiet calm of the forest from last night was gone- instead, he could only hear the harsh breaths of a dozen runners and the shouting of the teacher echoing through the trees.

  Duran wasn’t bad at running, was he? Why were they so fast?

  He hadn’t even thought this was a kind of class. Where were all of the lessons about swords and explosives? The teacher hadn’t even given them a book. He’d just started running! Duran was starting to have doubts about the education in military academies.

  His feet pounded the dirt as he tried to catch up, the slush treacherous. They’d jogged right out of the front gate, and seemed to be taking the long route across the island. It had been what felt like hours. He had a stitch in his side and a cramping calf.

  Ahead, Servius slowed, falling back in the pack enough to speak to Duran where he was lagging behind. “You need to run faster,” he said.

  “I’m trying!”

  “You’re going to get in trouble this way. I thought we agreed on you being a good student.”

  Duran should have known it would never work out. No one had ever called him good at learning before, and they probably weren’t going to start now. He heard the teacher shouting something out in Northern. Everyone surged forward a little bit faster.

  He had to act quickly if he didn’t want to get left behind entirely. He lagged behind a little further, leaned down to grab a handful of slush. Servius’s eyes went wide. He still hadn’t rejoined the pack.

  “Don’t,” he said, but it was too late. Duran was already slinging it forward.

  Servius’s mouth gaped open as the packed slush swung over the top of the pack. For a second, Duran thought he might have aimed correctly. Just as it was about to hit the student in the front, they took a corner.

  Instead of his target, the slush fell perfectly on the teacher’s head. For a second, Duran was too surprised to even jog at the end of the pack. He stood, horrified by his own competence.

  He hadn’t spoken to the teacher of this class. He’d just shown up and there had been a large man in sturdy boots, saying a lot of words he didn’t understand. Now, though, he watched every movement of the man’s face. He stopped jogging, which was the first terrifying thing. Then he reached up and swiped the slush out of his eyes. They were narrowed in concentration.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Maybe he didn’t see who did it, thought Duran. Surely with so many students… besides. He would understand Duran had only been keeping up, wouldn’t he?

  The man’s hand rose. His finger pointed through the crowd. The students, who had stopped running when he did, cleared out a path.

  A path that led directly to Duran. He gulped and tried to dry his hand off on his trousers.

  The teacher wasn’t saying anything. He prowled forward, glaring at any student that tried to speak up. Duran wanted to shrink away and hide behind a tree, but he stood firm. That was what heroes did, didn’t they? Confront evil?

  He gulped. The teacher was in arm’s length of him now. He stopped where he was and folded his arms. He asked a question in northern. Instead of meeting his eyes, Duran stared into the forest, trying to look confident. Why was he so scary? Duran had fought evil monsters. Surely this was nothing in comparison.

  Servius jabbed him in the ribs. Oh, right. The question. Duran shook his head. There was another, sharper question after that. Duran gave the teacher a hopeful smile. “Maybe it was accidental?” he said.

  That was the wrong answer. The teacher pointed back to the keep and said something harsh, then turned on his heel. There was an echoing gasp that ran through the student body, although it quieted as soon as the teacher turned back to face them. Duran could see a little of the slush still falling into his collar, but decided not to bring it up.

  Once the teacher was back up at the head of the pack, the students began to take off, running forward in pairs and returning to the path. Servius lingered behind, his brows furrowed. Why was he so worried? It clearly wasn’t a problem, if they were running again.

  Before Duran could follow them, resuming the run, Servius held out a hand to stop him. “Didn’t you hear him?”

  Duran shrugged vaguely. Even though he’d told Servius he didn’t speak northern, it was like the other boy didn’t believe him. Something about him ‘being from the north’. As if they all spoke the same language!

  “You’ve been sent to the kitchens.” Servius gave him a supremely arrogant look, as though he hadn’t been at the back of the pack too. “You’ll be there for days,” he said. “I bet they’ll make you bone fish. And supervise the ovens. It’ll be horrible.”

  Duran glanced over his shoulder. The pack was nearly gone now. He could see the keep in the distance, so tempting. “You mean it? I get to be in the kitchens?”

  “You’re hopeless,” said Servius. “Forget it! You can try all of your rule-breaking on your own. See how it suits you!”

  By the time he looked back, Servius had already taken off, trying to catch back up. His face was red from exertion.

  Duran was free to grin and even punch the air a little in celebration.

  He got to work in the kitchens? The language barrier might not even be a problem. He was an expert at cooking. Madame Elysia had even called his food “edible” recently. He was basically ready for an apprentice of his own.

  They weren’t going to know what hit them. He began to run towards the keep, a smile on his face all the while. School was so easy.