All Chapters of The Black Hellblade: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Maritza strutted down the corridor in long, quick strides. Ronan had to push himself to keep pace with her, and he got the sense that she was challenging him to see if he was ready to be deployed into training. To keep his mind off the discomfort in his throbbing abdomen, Ronan focused on the thick, curly blonde hair in Maritza's ponytail. He watched it bob up and down with each of her fast steps, then nearly toppled over Maritza when she came to a sudden halt at the door to the training grounds. Ronan tried to play it cool when she spun around, but Maritza noticed the bead of sweat dripping down the side of Ronan's head. She opened the door and signaled for him to head through first. The training grounds was a huge and open area packed with an assortment of tools that the Temple of the Serpent could have only dreamed of. Lines of humanlike dummies made of stripped wood occupied a wide section of flat dirt. Few trainees entered the zone for fear of messing up their pressed white pa

The next morning, after a big breakfast of scrambled eggs and pork sausages with biscuits, Ronan made for the Training Grounds.With him was Ike, who had only a single crutch under an arm, and his long brown hair tucked into an elegant ponytail. His protruding muttonchop sideburns were oiled, shining, and smelled of chamomile. Ronan touched a finger to the gruff black stubble growing on his own face, then laughed. He wouldn't be caught dead with such a fancy haircut and beard trimming such as Ike's, no matter how much it might help him to fit in. In fact, Ronan didn't want to fit in. He wanted to stand out so he could win the attention of Maritza, who might be able to help him unlock his Shroud magic. When Ike and Ronan entered the Training Grounds, they saw rows of dozens of Trainees gathered. Everybody was stretching and limbering up, and Ronan saw that through the cuts in the backs of the blouses and shirts, the other Trainees were all Rank 2 or 3. Everybody, except Ike and Ron

"Turn around, Ronan," Maritza instructed, "and relax. It'll be hard for Farrier's magic to make the marking if you're tense." Ronan turned around and dropped his arms by his side. Farrier set two burly hands on Ronan's shoulders. "Do you feel the Essence flowing through you?" Farrier asked. He prepared to imbue Ronan with the Mark of the Butterfly. Ronan fixed his attention on the feeling at his fingertips. His forearm still burned from casting the white flames, though the black veins had retreated, and only Alfred had noticed them. "I think I can feel the Essence," Ronan mumbled. Farrier belted out a big laugh that startled Ronan. "Look around you boy!" Farrier exclaimed.A stream of black wisps circled around Ronan's body. Similarly, Essence the same cobalt color as Alfred's eyes wrapped around the arrogant, smiling Nightblade. The Trainees watching gasped and whispered about Ronan's black Essence, diverting any attention away from Alfred's achievements and only to Ronan

Alfred and his gang all slashed at Ronan from different angles, but Ronan felt magic flow to the soles of his leather boots. He leapt up and into a backflip, then landed on his feet. He was far enough away to ready his sword out in front of him, and the Mark of the Butterfly attached to his serpent glowed a strong black. Ronan understood that he may be outnumbered, but that he had an advantage; serpent magic cast fire and was offensive, whereas the butterfly magic allowed him to jump great heights and make himself lighter, making it the perfect magic for defensive maneuvers. The gang sneered and Alfred held his sword outwards, leading the women into a charge. Freya took Ronan's right and Clove took his left. Suddenly Runes appeared along Ronan's arm, extending farther up than they had ever before to his bicep. The many voices of The Shroud whispered, "Every successful Nightblade must follow The Way of the Myrmidon— to be a swordmaster capable of holding one's own against multip

By the time Ronan had dragged his feet to the dining hall, Trainees were already chowing down. Big vats of steaming eggs, sausages, bacon, and biscuits lined the wall near the plates and utensils, and Butterfly Trainees formed a single-file to get their fill.At the sight of Ronan, the clamor in the hall stopped, and somebody dropped their plate to the floor. After a second of hushed whispers and dirty looks, a fit man with shining red hair hurled a buttered biscuit at Ronan.Ronan barely needed to lift his face to pinpoint the biscuit's location. He swiped it out of the air before it pelted his head. Two more biscuits and a sausage were chucked at him, but Ronan snagged these out of the air too while proceeding to the line to get his food. "Who knows where The Black Snake will slither to next!" a woman murmured in his ear from behind. A man who had just got his tray of food approached Ronan then sneered, "A creature that crawls on the ground doesn't belong around those with wi