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Over the next week, there was nothing spoken of, but the trials.
Connel's passion for stalking became an obsession. He was out every night to see who he could get and, once back inside, he took to lurking in the alcoves down corridors waiting for his unsuspecting former friends. Henry was so furious when Connel sprung out at him after dinner one night, he lashed out and gave him a bloody nose. The fight would have escalated, except for the timely arrival of Zac, who pulled them apart and told them to keep their punches for Caniformia.
When Saturday morning finally came, Connel was up with the sun, his face as white as chalk, his lips sealed. He didn't speak during breakfast, and ate little, though he did pocket some for later. Henry, however, ate three helpings of breakfast as Bull was being uncharacteristically generous, and kept ladling food onto any plate presented to him, with no questions asked. Mannik, who had no desire to be in the trials, and yet had to participate, was so flighty he could barely sit still. Every time Lennox looked at him, he was looking from right to left, his lips twitching, his fingers writhing.
‘He won’t touch you, not today,’ she muttered, assuming it was the thought of what Gram might do that was bothering Mannik.
‘What?’ Mannik startled.
‘Gram,’ she whispered. ‘He’s got a trial to win. He’s not going to bother with you.’
‘I know,’ he hissed back.
Lennox stared at him confused. If it wasn’t Gram, then she had no idea what was making him edgy. But she didn’t ask. She knew him well enough now. If she asked, it would only make things worse. He didn’t like to talk about his private nightmares, for him, it made them more real. He was convinced the school was wicked, and concealed a horrific past, and was cursed. He was holding onto the idea that it was only a matter of time before conclusive proof was found, by him or by her. Any suggestion that he would remain at Calgacos for the duration of the school year, was meant with a shudder and a blank gaze.
After breakfast, the four houses all gathered in the courtyard where a sudden return to icy temperatures had caused a frost as thick as a polar bear’s coat, and was sending trails of fog from their mouths as they spoke. Only the prefects were conspicuously absent from sight.
Mannik and Lennox sheltered behind Henry, Rick and Connel who were in winter gear, and looked ready for anything. Lennox felt a growing sense of unease. Very soon, the land around Calgacos was going to be swarming with seniors and juniors both, and all competing against each other.
'Gather round,' came a shout from the courtyard centre. It was Torkil. Though he was similar in height to many on the juniors, indeed smaller than some, he stood like the epicentre of a storm, quiet, and full of power; Calgacos revolved around him.
'These are the rules,’ he explained to an abruptly still, and silent, courtyard. Every face was turned towards his; every mouth suddenly closed. ‘Hidden, somewhere in the school grounds, are the school prefects and House Captains. You have to find one, and somehow convince them to come back with you. There’s only one rule. No blood.'
Torkil’s head slowly revolved: his gaze swept across the assembled school. There was a deathly silence. Everyone was thinking where to go, where the prefects might have hidden themselves, and exactly what ‘no blood’ meant. Lennox glanced at Mannik. To her surprise, he was no longer by her side. She looked through the crowds, searching for his distinctive mane of hair.
'Let the trials begin!' Torkil’s usually high pitched voice was transformed into a roar. There was a surge forward, elbows jostled, and the houses stampeded out the gates.
Lennox had no choice. She was borne forward by the movement of those around her. She called for Mannik once. Her voice, high pitched, unmistakeably feminine, carried across the mass of bodies. Those closest to her turned in scorn, assuming she was panicking. From then on, she kept her mouth shut.
Once outside the gates, people started sprinting, and the pressure of bodies, backs, legs, arms, and faces was over. Lennox was one of the few who stopped and looked around, but Mannik was nowhere to be seen. He could be anywhere by now. Lennox had a good idea of what he intended to do: run, hide, and when the coast was clear, head back. She planned to do the same thing herself, only she had expected them to hide together. Now, she was on her own.
Across the hillside, bodies were spreading fast. Some were heading for the forests, some for the hilltops, some were scouting round the school walls. It made sense. There had to be at least one prefect hidden somewhere very close by. But finding a prefect was the last thing she wanted to do, despite her promise to Duncan. She had no desire to be in the Challenge Cup; she simply wanted to keep a low profile. All she wanted to do was pass the time, and not get into trouble.
So she headed for a valley pass that led to the very edge of the school lands to the north, to the Dark Hills, named for the heather that grew there, its flowers a bruise over the land. There were few paths, few trees, only gorse, tough as thorns and sharp as needles. She doubted any prefect would chose to hide there, or anyone else go there looking. She should be safe, if she could just get there.
She passed two seniors fighting furiously on her way through the valley pass, neither one she knew. As she watched, one sent the other reeling backwards with a punch to the face, blood dripping from his nose. They didn’t notice her. There wasn’t even a prefect in sight to fight over. Another senior was ploughing his way through a thicket, heading away from the fight. There were two more in the distance heading up to a boulder strewn distant hilltop. From the way they were moving, Lennox guessed it was a chase. With a start, she noticed an Aves junior close by, motionless in one of the lowest branches of a crooked Scot’s Pine. He glanced at her suspiciously. They were all competing against each other. You did not have one enemy, but many.
She picked up speed, and started running at pace, not because she wanted to win, but because she wanted to get away. But running was a mistake. It drew attention. Stocky, dark eyed Hugh, a Feliformia senior, rose from nowhere, and headed straight for her. She sped up, but it was too late. She’d seen him too late. He tackled her to the ground, and twisted her arms deftly behind her back.
‘Get off!’ she growled.
‘Who’ve you seen?’ he demanded.
‘No one.’
She spat in his face. He blinked, and loosened his grip, just long enough. She kicked him, hard, in the shins, scrambled up and was off, sprinting at full stretch.
The Dark Hills were, as she had suspected, quiet. There was not another person in sight. In some areas the gorse was monstrously overgrown and higher than her head. She wove her way through gaps in the thorny maze on the lower slopes, planning to reach the top and survey the scene. As the slope grew steeper, she was able to look back upon an unending, undulating mass of gorse. Nothing else, only gorse, and yet she stopped again, and again. She did not know why but her heart had quickened.
Near the hilltop, the vegetation dwindled, and the ground was covered in a dense moss like grass, dusty compact earth and stones. She stood on the highest ground and looked back the way she had come. The gorse covered lower slopes were seemingly quiet. There was no movement, no sound. The Dark Hills appeared deserted. There was no explanation for her unease.
She sank slowly to her feet, but kept her gaze fixed on the slopes below. The valley pass was too far to see clearly. She had no way of knowing how the trials were progressing. She had come here to be safe, away from the trials. She would stay put.
She stayed on the hill top, biding her time as long as she could but, too soon, she became dangerously cold. The hill top was exposed, and she was motionless. First her feet, then her face and hands grew numb. Then her body began to shiver as the cold air bit deep.
This time, instead of winding a path through the sharp thorns, she wandered over to the far side of the open hilltop, where the ground was more barren. She surveyed the slope, looking for a different route down, then back round the hills. On the western side of the slope, th
e land pitched up and down like an unruly sea, and withered ancient heather cloaked the land. As she considered her route, she dropped to a squat, motionless. Her heart contracted. There was something wrong. In amongst the ragged land, she sensed movement. As she watched, she saw a man climbing steadily, not running, but not slow.
She knew at once it was not a teacher, or a master. There simply wasn’t anyone like this man at Calgacos. He was colossal, his legs, his arms, his hands. Even from a distance she could tell he was a formidable size. A red tinged beard covered half his face, but what she could see was hard and lined, like weathered rock, and even from a distance, even with just one glance, she could tell his eyes were black as tar. Whoever it was, it was the face which had terrified Mannik, and this time she was on her own.
She didn’t scream, not out loud. She simply turned and ran.
It was only later she realised it had been a foolish thing to do. Her sudden movement stood out, made her easy to pick out on the hill top, made her a target.
She tore back up the hill top, arms flying at her sides, towards the crest. She had left it only minutes ago. It had been deserted. But now, as she came soaring up, she found one figure standing on the very spot she had been sitting.
Kellas.
He understood in an instant what was happening.
Come with me.
She did not hesitate. She went straight to him. As soon as she reached him, they began running. They raced back down the hill, Kellas leading her a different route from the one she had travelled before, along a path she had not found, but one so narrow at times she felt the gorse scratch both cheeks, and sting her hands.
He paused once, to listen, to check behind.
'What...?' she began.
He silenced her with a look. He was so close she could see details she had never noticed before. Like grains of sand, his eyes were a flurry of greens, mixed together; his skin was as pure as the horizon.
We’re being watched.
Kellas stole forward, slowly, cautiously; she was seconds behind, in a crouch, smooth and silent. They did not relax until they left the Dark Hills and reached the valley pass. Then Kellas’ back straightened, and he lost his furtive look. The valley was quiet, and dark. Clouds had gathered, the day was dying. The dark branches of the Yew tree where she had seen a junior hide were fading into the darkness all around.
She stopped beneath the Yew Tree, and waited for Kellas to notice she was no longer following him.
He stopped, looked back.
‘What?’ he asked, but he didn’t give her time to reply. ‘You were beyond the borders.’ He told her. ‘Again.’
‘And that was the same man, wasn’t it?’ she countered, her voice rising to cross the distance between them. ‘The same man as before, at the other Calgacos.’
He regarded her thoughtfully.
‘Yes.’
This was the floodgate for a thousand questions.
‘Why? Who is he? What does he want?’
He walked back to her then, purposefully, and her hopes of an explanation rose. He stopped when he was arm’s length, as close as when they had crouched together on the slopes, and this time he was not listening to see who else was around, this time his focus was only on her.
‘Do you not know how beautiful you are?’ he asked.
Lennox shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing.
‘You will always need to be wary of men,’ he said. ‘Always.’ He paused, letting his warning sink in. ‘Even with me.’
She shook her head.
‘And right now all the prefects will have been found, and most others returned as well,’ he added, ignoring her denial. ‘You need to get back. I will follow at a distance.’
'Why?'
‘Because it would be a mistake to return together.’
‘Oh?’
‘Of course,’ he scowled. He had no wish to talk anymore. She had not listened the way he wanted. ‘Now, go.’
He was right about one thing. She did not see anyone else on the way back. The hillsides were deserted, the only sound the wind, filling her ears, and channelling through the valley, sending the storm clouds scuttling, like rats, across the sky, throwing her hair across her face, and neck.
Kellas, when she looked around, was far behind, following at a considerable distance. He definitely wanted to stay as far away as possible. He never normally spoke to her, and yet turned up if something was going wrong. Somehow he always seemed to know when she was in trouble.
By the time she reached the final stretch up to Calgacos, it was clear the trials had ended long ago. The slopes up to Calgacos were an empty expanse of wild grass and drystone walls.
She thought of Mannik. Whatever had happened, it was too late to change it now. Besides, he had made his choice. He had disappeared from her side before Torkil had even announced the start. He had abandoned her, not the other way around.
The gatehouse was open; she could see movement inside. The trials might be over, but someone was waiting. It might be Duncan. He had asked her to do her best, and she had done the opposite. He would be disappointed with this result.
As she drew nearer, she saw someone stride out the gates, and knew it was him. Tall, proud, surveying the land like a lord, he watched her final ascent like a hawk, and walked to meet her before she reached the school walls.
'Where have you been?'
'I got lost. I think I went beyond then 5 mile radius.'
She could not bear to meet his eyes, or return his grim, tight smile.
'I looked everywhere for you...'
'And I you...' she always seemed to end up lying, every time she talked to Duncan. She made an effort to tell as much truth as she could. 'I went up into the Dark Hills. I thought if I found high ground, I would be able to see far, spot movement, and find you.'
‘And did you?’ Duncan asked. ‘I was in the valley pass, looking for you. I spoke with Hugh, he told me you’d passed by.’
She paused, and that was a mistake. Hesitation caused the cracks in her lies to open wide.
‘So? Did you see me?' he asked again.
She was saved from answering by the arrival of a cluster of Masters: Kearns, Nighten and Conley
'Why are you always last?' Kearns asked, stepping forward, his diminutive eyes shrinking further into a scowl.
'It was the prefects who were supposed to stay hidden, not the juniors!' Conley added sarcastically.
'I got lost,' Lennox tried to explain.
But no one was listening. They were all looking at the slope beyond for Kellas had just turned up.
A strange noise rattled in Kearns’ throat, almost like a growl. 'He thinks he can do what he wants,' he snapped.
'Go!' Conley hissed at Lennox. Kearns and Nighten seemed to have forgotten she was there. Their eyes were fixed on Kellas.
She hurried into the courtyard. It was deserted, and the castle resembled a campsite, full of flickering fires in leaded windows. She looked back through the gatehouse, saw the line of Masters’ backs, and Duncan, taller than all of them. Facing them, his forehead glistening, his eyes gleaming like moonstones, was Kellas.
'Just you and her! Again!' snarled Kearns, and though his voice was low and guttural, Lennox could hear every word. 'You can't leave her alone, can you?'
Kellas said nothing, but his chin lifted defiantly.
'Well?' Kearns demanded. ‘Have you got anything to say for yourself?'
Kellas’ eyes glittered like broken glass but he said nothing.
Kearns stepped towards Kellas, brought a finger to his face. 'No one asked you to look after her. No one asked you to follow her around like a shadow. She does not belong to you.’
Kellas flushed a deep red, but he did not drop his chin. He stared straight at Kearns as if there were no one else present.
'Anything else you want to say?' he asked, his voice was strained. His face was frozen in a mask.
‘Yes!’ Kellas turned to Duncan. ‘You’re his Head
of House. Keep an eye on him. And keep him away from her.’
Kearns turned back to Kellas.
‘Understand?’
Kellas nodded and stalked away, his face stiff, his eyes murderous. Lennox had seconds to get out of sight. She sprinted across the courtyard, through the Feliformia doorway. She ran all the way up the staircase to her corridor, staying clear of the common room.
She reached her room, slipped inside, and sank to the floor, her heart thudding.
She had thought Kellas was avoiding her, but Kearns thought the opposite. And he was right. Kellas was always there when she needed him. It changed everything. If only she could just spend some time with him, talk to him, find out more about him.
Behind her back, her door shook in its frame as someone pounded on it.
She leapt to her feet and yanked open her door, just as Connel raised a fist to pound on it again.
'What is it?' she asked, surprised.
'Mannik' Connel whispered. ‘Come!'