Harvest 10, 855
Buu almost collapsed with relief when Three Lakes University’s towering timber walls came into view. Working with the beetle the night before had given him a momentary respite from his exhaustion, but fatigue caught up with him quickly. He’d considered buoying himself with his magic, maybe bringing down a rabbit or a deer, but Aru had warned against it:
“Until you learn to control it, the backlash from magic can be dangerous and addictive. It probably saved your life the other night, but it could have just as easily been the death of you.”
The thought of a pallet of dry straw to sleep on, tucked behind thick walls and hidden from the wind sounded like paradise. The school hunkered on top of a gentle hill, as big as Red Birch but three times as tall as the lumber mill. Tree stumps pimpled the landscape closest to the woods like tombstones, leaving a large, mossy clearing on the far side.
Soldiers in Thaven burgundy dotted the top of the walls, bursting into activity as Aru, Buu, and the grimm entered the clearing. By the time they reached the gate, a knot of troops waited for them, hunkering in the safety of the watchtower that perched atop the gate. The grimm gave a derisive snort as they gathered, rolling his ember eyes and turning back toward the woods. Buu and Aru shared a shrug.
“Doctor Dyan, is that you?” one of the soldiers shouted at them, the wind toying with the words to make the m barely audible.
“Zenya? Is that you?” Aru shouted back. “What on earth are you doing on the wall? You should be studying!”
The buzz of annoyance radiating from Aru grew quickly, and Buu took a cautious step away. Squinting up, he saw that the caller, Zenya, looked younger than the other soldiers, and wore loose-fitting clothes rather than armour.
An older woman shushed Zenya, leaning forward over the wall’s timbers. “Was that the grimm? Is General Ido with you?”
“It was, and he isn’t. Now are you going to let us in, or would you rather just shout at each other all day?” Aru replied in a brittle, friendly voice. What must have looked like a smile from the wall looked a lot more like bared teeth to Buu.
One of the gate’s massive doors swung outwards by a few feet, leaving just enough room for them to slip through before they ground shut with a heavy thud behind them, a tree-sized timber slotting into place as a locking bar.
Zenya and the older soldier hustled down to meet them, Zenya clutching Aru’s hand in warm greeting. The soldier gave Buu one glance before dismissing him, turning her attention back to Aru. Buu wondered if he would ever get used t o seeing women in armour. Anaya only took to battle when she had to, and otherwise encouraged women to lead the household. The front lines were a place for men in the east, but the Thavens seemed to have no reservations about putting anyone in the path of danger.
“Professor, it’s so good to see you!” Zenya gushed. “Some of the soldiers from your detachment came back saying the general’s monster had gone on a rampage. We assumed the worst!”
Aru patted Zenya’s hand before gently detaching her. “That is what happens when you try to bridle death made flesh. I don’t know what the Thavens were thinking.” Aru glared at the soldier, whose eyes hardened in return. Buu imagined he saw lightening jumping from one scowl to the other.
“Doctor, you must report to the captain immediately,” the soldier ground out under a patina of respect. “They will need a full report.”
“You can talk to your captain,” Aru shook her head, “I need to talk to my headmaster. A handful of professors for non-combat duties — that was the deal. I come back and he’s got students manning the blasted walls!”
The last words echoed over Aru’s shoulder as she marched away, fists clenched at her sides and face red. Buu shrugged apologetically at Zenya before shuffling after Aru, trying at first to keep pace but giving up quickly at his body’s protests. Aru would double back and find him eventually. Adults always did. In the meantime, he took the walk at a measured pace, spinning slowly to take in his new surroundings.
The school consisted of a handful of towering stone-and-timber buildings clustered between six squat walls. Some of the buildings stood five stories tall, taking up so much space that Buu wondered how much of Red Birch might have fit inside. Glass glinted from the windows of each building, nearly invisible when compared to the few thick, blurry windows in Red Birch.
In the square’s centre, a stone man stood, lifting a book into the air with a benevolent expression, a still pool of water forming a wide moat around him. A handful of young people — students, Buu guessed — sat on the edge of the pool, huddled in conversation or waving to one another. Several onlookers had gathered near the school’s stable, watching soldiers drag two dead horses into a big hole, covering them over with dirt. Buu sidled up to one of the youngest-looking students, still several years his senior, and pulled at his sleeve.
“Excuse me,” Buu did his best not to mumble, “why are they doing that?”
In Red Birch, people didn’t waste things. The sawdust from the mill lined animal pens, animal waste fed gardens, and dead animals fed people. Watching the horses tumble unceremoniously into the pit made Buu uneasy. Meat, leather, glue — all gone and buried.
“Gross, right? They died in the fighting,” the older boy answered, barely looking away from the spectacle to glance at Buu. “Closest knacker is in Yanakavi. Zadyatan has it for now, so…” he gestured vaguely at the holes, and the horses.
“I heard they just dropped dead — there’s no wounds on them,” a girl standing nearby pitched in, flushed with excitement. “Might be poison, so they’re not taking the chance with butchering them. That would mean someone here did it. Someone with access to the stables. A rebel.” She breathed the last words with the reverence of a prayer.
Buu had long known that the war existed, but before a few days ago it had seemed distant. Something that happened somewhere else. Now it seemed like it waited everywhere he turned. He hadn’t been surprised that people died in the fighting — that fact was the same in all the stories — but his stomach ached at the idea of all the waste that seemed to stem from that fighting.
He watched with the others, appalled, until he felt a light tap on his shoulder. A girl about his age stood behind him, her nose wrinkling but face carefully neutral. She wore the same robes as everyone else, clean leather shoes poking out from under the hem.
“Are you Buu?” she asked. When Buu nodded, she continued, “I’m Idah. My aunt said to show you around. Come with me.”
Buu followed obediently, doing his best to take in Idah’s rapid assessment of each building they passed. Idah walked briskly, and looked back in annoyance when Buu forced himself to slow down, countering his shortening breaths. In an effort to distract her, he pointed to a young, mopey-looking man loitering outside the building Idah had called a library.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
While he had originally asked as a distraction, he became genuinely curious the more he looked at the stranger. Something about him caught at the edges of Buu’s perception, like a tune he couldn’t quite remember. The man dressed like a student, but his robes, like his complexion, were dull and grey where the students wore tan. The man didn’t look at any of the people passing him, instead staring mournfully towards the blank wall of the library.
“Who’s who?” Idah huffed, returning to his side. He pointed, but she shook her head. “The girl with the braids? That’s Min. She’s nice enough but mostly hangs out with the older kids.”
“No, not her, the guy by the… library…” Buu let his voice trail away as another student came rushing from the library and straight into the grey-robed stranger. The student didn’t stop or stumble, only shivering and drawing their scarf tighter as they sailed straight through the man.
Rather than yell or fall back, the stranger pulled apart. Buu’s head hurt as he watched the man turn to smoke where the student walked through him, the rest of his body remaining solid-looking for a moment more before fading from sight.
Idah waved a hand in front of Buu’s face. “Hello? Who are you looking at?” She tried to trace his gaze but didn’t react to the spectacle before them.
Buu realized he was gaping and closed his mouth with a snap. Throat dry, he tried to speak, failed, and succeeded on the second try.
“N-nothing. They’re gone now.”
“Whatever.”
As Idah led him away, resuming the tour with an air of irritation, Buu glanced back over his shoulder. No stranger. No smoke. No evidence that anything had ever been there at all. With a gulp, he turned to try and pay attention to Idah’s words. He needed a nap, and the sooner he learned where he would be sleeping, the better.
Hallucinations. Headache. Dry throat.