Trials in Walls of Ivy (Triskelion Trilogy Book 1) (2 page)

He watched me intently, and then nodded, like I was supposed to understand what he was talking about.

Through my slow blinking eyes, I saw four paramedics rush to the door. In pairs they carried two stretchers. The first pair didn’t get chance to get a foot in the room before a man lowered June and told them she was in shock. I listened for their footsteps retreating outside.

“Shock?” I whispered, “is she okay?” I tried once again to sit up and realised I no longer had the strength. My clothes felt wet. “I need to go home.”

I felt cool hands supporting my head as the paramedics scooped me from my rescuers arms. He nodded at me once again as my eyes finally closed.

As the sound of the sea’s crashing waves drowned out the clatter of voices, the rumble of pebbles pulled me into a deep blue sleep.

Two weeks had passed since I left the hospital. Mum and Dad flapped frantically every time I sneezed. It was fun at first, but now it was just annoying. I had what the doctor termed as
lacerations
, covering my back, arms, legs and feet. Luckily my face was unharmed as I protected it with my hands, but some areas of my body, like my arms and feet, needed a fair few stitches. I had needed blood too. That part was what made my parents frantic.
You don’t need extra blood unless it was a major injury
, Dad reminded me every time I tried to reach for the cereal box, or even go to the loo without help. That was what made me fight through the recovery. Yes, when I first got home I needed help to walk as my feet were so cut up. My fault for wearing flip-flops to work. But, having your Dad want to help you take a pee is never going to be appealing.

I tried to divert attention as much as possible. I pointed to the latest news report we were watching on TV. A terrorist bomb had gone off in Bournemouth. In my attempt at humour, I joked, at least it wasn’t our sea side town. But, at that my Mum just freaked even more and mulled over all the things that
could
have happened. I finally managed to turn her attentions to cooking, by suggesting a family meal would make us all feel better. The family meal turned into a family feast. Every night. In the end, I invited Dorothy over to thank her for her bravery. She of course brought more food, in the form of trifle. There was no chance I was going to recover and still fit into my shorts.

The police had been to talk to me the moment the doctors patched me up. I told them about my phone and they said they had it. I wondered if I would ever get it back, it was only a month old. They told me that June was fine. Thankfully, the men hadn’t touched her. The bar however, was still closed. The police had collected what evidence they needed and had given permission to re-open. I had spoken to June, offered to open for her. Each time she gave the same reply: she wasn’t ready to go back. Dad said he thought she was still in shock. I had to agree, but couldn’t help but worry about her business. In such a small village, if her café stayed closed much longer, the customers would just find a new regular.

I had just sat myself down to breakfast when my sister, Lynette, threw down the post in the middle of the table. She had been hysterical when she first saw me in the hospital. All bandaged and wired up to machines, I think I scared her senseless. Now that I was home, she was getting grumpier by the day. It didn’t help when Mum and Dad constantly told her to bring me things and help with pretty much everything. In truth, I think she was more shook up by my experience than I was, but unfortunately showed it through her stereotypical teenage moodiness.

I sat bolt upright at the kitchen table as the envelope dropped in front of me. My name was spread across the front in bold font. I leaned over to snatch it up.  In the top right corner, in place of a stamp, was an embossed shield. The dark green lines within the shield curved to form a three-handed triskelion. I brought the envelope up to my face to examine the hands on each arm. The first held what looked like a glass vial. The second was closed in a fist. The third was spread wide with an eye in the centre of its palm. Beneath the shield were three words: University of Terram.

“Huh, I thought I already got all of my rejections,” I said, as I ripped the pull tab from the top. Inside was a single sheet of cream paper. I read through the whole page with a growing frown.

“Dad. Have you ever heard of the University of Terram?”

Dad looked up from his paper. “Terram? No, don’t think so. Why?”

I handed the sheet to him. “Because they’re offering me a place at their uni.” My voice giggled with nerves and excitement. I had never heard of the place, let alone applied there. Why would they offer me a position? “Do you think it’s a mistake?”

“Why did it come in the post? Don’t these things get done online now?” Mum asked, as she peered over Dad’s shoulder.

“Yes, they do,” said Dad, “but, this does look official. There’s a web site, you should check it, Roz.”

I had already grabbed Lynette’s laptop from her and began typing in the address. “It’s here. Looks good.” I scrolled through the pages of subjects, past results, area and history. It was filled with the usual pictures of happy looking students, all walking around the campus like they were having the best day of their lives. I scrolled through the subjects again. They didn’t have business studies, which was what I had been applying for.

“Dad. What subject does that letter say they’ve accepted me in?”

He scanned the paper. “It doesn’t. It just says you’ve been accepted and to be there in two weeks.”

I scrolled again through the subject lists. There were many computing and technology subjects, some theory like psychology and criminology. There was also a large selection of sports and fitness related subjects. None of them were close to what I had been applying for.

“Wonder how they knew I was looking?” I mused.

Dad handed me back the letter. I read it through, slower this time. It was short and to the point. I had been accepted to the University of Terram. I would begin my study in two weeks and accommodation would be provided. However, as I continued to read, nerves set in.

As an institution of select definition, students must be aware that enrolment is non-reversible. Therefore, it is requested that only the committed and dedicated accept this offer.

“Enrolment is non-reversible?” I said, aloud, “what’s that mean?”

“You’ll find out when you go, I suppose,” mum scowled.

I knew she wasn’t happy about me swanning off to uni. She all but grinned each time I received a rejection. Her dream was for me to live there in the village for the rest of my life and marry some fisherman. I swear, she would have blended in with this community two hundred years ago.

“Mum, don’t start that again. It’s only uni. I’ll be back at holidays.”

“After you’ve got a taste for those big cities? All those music halls and booze filled pubs? You’re going to come back with a tattoo and a bar through your nose, I just know it.” She gulped back her sweet tea, shuddering.

“Mum, I’ll be going to learn, not party. And, what’s wrong with tattoos and piercings? Frank over by the fire station has them, and he’s a good guy.”

Lynette erupted in laughter as Mum shrieked and held her hand over her heart.

“Rozlyn. Don’t wind your Mum up,” Dad chided, with a smirk.

*   *   *

The next two weeks passed in a blaze. I visited June at her house. She still hadn’t been back to the bar and was considering putting it up for sale. Dorothy’s visit was a whirlwind of tea, cakes and hugs. She was delighted at my acceptance and promised to send me
care packages
as often as she could.

The uni was up north on the east somewhere. I had called the number on the letter to confirm my acceptance and was told I would be picked up and transported to the university by chauffer. When I asked for the address, they simply stated that they were unable to reveal the location over an open line. I had no idea what that meant, but they promised me all would be explained upon arrival.

As the days counted down to my departure, I couldn’t get the face of my rescuer, Bob, out of my mind. I remembered how he told me I was the sort of person to seize an opportunity and take risks. At the time I thought he was just talking rubbish to keep me awake. But now, receiving an ominous offer like this, I couldn’t help but think he was connected. It was a risk, of that I was acutely aware. I didn’t know where I was going, or what I was to do when I got there. But, it was an opportunity, and I knew I would forever regret it if I refused to see it through.

The morning of my departure was conducted with a flurry of tears from Mum. Dad pushed my bag onto my shoulder with a kiss to my hair. I knew he’d just added a stash of emergency cash to my purse, just like Mum sneaked in a few more jumpers to my case. There was no mention of dress code on the letter, so to the disproval of my Mother, I was dressed in my usual cut offs, vest and cardy combination. It was the only look which suited my salt soaked wavy sun bleached hair.

The four of us stood in the front garden as the huge black car pulled up outside our house, in the middle of the road. To my surprise, Lynette rushed forward and gave me a tight hug. She let go just as quick and ran back into the house.

I stared after her, speechless.

“She’s happy for you. I think she’s just realising how much she’s going to miss you,” Dad said, pulling me into a final hug. “Remember, we’re just at the end of the phone. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Thanks Dad.”

“And if someone tries to give you them drugs,” Mum cut in, “just say no. And don’t let any smooth talking boys fool you, they’re all the same. And just remember what drinking does. You don’t want to make yourself sick.”

“Patricia! Can’t you give our daughter a simple goodbye hug and leave it at that? She knows what she’s doing, let her breathe.”

Mum scowled at Dad as he pulled her away. I couldn’t help but grin at the pair of them.

A man stepped from the driver’s side and came through the gate. “Miss Rozlyn Grove?”

I nodded and he took hold of my case.

“This way please. We have quite a drive ahead of us.”

I hugged my parents one last time and climbed into the back seat of the car.

The eight hour journey ended as we pulled up at a guard post. We had passed through a small town and took a turn up a narrow lane which seemed to have no end. From what I could see, the university was in the middle of nowhere. I couldn’t be more pleased when we arrived. The driver had hardly spoken two words the whole journey. I had finished the book I was reading and ran the battery dead on my new phone three hours ago. I desperately wished I could have just taken the train. I suggested this to the driver some four hours ago. In response, he laughed and told me that would never be secure enough.

I peered through the window to the darkness outside. On each side of the car stretching out like a barrier, towering walls of ivy blocked our path as far as I could see. The concrete guard post looked alien sat in the centre of such overwhelming nature.

The guard put his elbow on the driver’s lowered window. “Evening. Passes?”

The driver handed him a folded piece of paper. With a nod, the guard backed up and waved us through
.

“Why is this place so secure?” I asked, now letting the nerves settle in.

“Has to be. We have high profile students here,” he said, without taking his eyes from the narrow winding lane.

We continued through twists and turns lined with trees, before the university building came in sight. It was massive. I couldn’t count how many buildings spread across the campus. A mixture of old and new, the university seemed to be half ancient, half modern. In the centre was an enormous square castle. Connected to it were extensions sprouting out from every angle. Each one had high glass walls making them seem almost transparent. Through the rest of the grounds there was a further mixture of old and new. There were a number of tower blocks, modern buildings in oddly shaped geometric angles and further elements of the castle. Our car pulled up in front of one of the modern buildings.

“This is you. I’ll drop your bags off at your room,” the driver said, as he turned to smile at me for the first time.

“What? Where do I go? Can’t I go to my room now?” I sank back into my seat. I didn’t know anyone here. How was I supposed to know where to go?

“No. You have to go through the induction first.” He opened my window from a control panel in his door. “You see that building there?” He pointed, “in there’s the dining room. You’ll all be called when everyone gets here.”

I nodded without word and reminded myself that everyone here was as new and unaware as me. I pulled the door handle, grabbed my rucksack and stepped out of the car. He sped away before I could say thank you. I walked up the stone steps and stood in-front of the wooden doors.

This was it. I was at university. All those hours of research and study had paid off. This was where I was going to get the life I always wanted.

With a shaking breath I pulled the handle and walked through the door.

The dining room was a jumble. Tables and chairs filled every area. People milled in and out. Some carried plates of food, some huddled in conversation. My stomach growled, and I realised I hadn’t thought to bring a snack for my journey. The large group of shuffling bodies in one corner told me that must be where the food was being served. I headed toward it, hoping I was right.  All around me were different accents, different levels of excitement and fear. I forced my smile to stay in place and manoeuvred my way through to the front. The food looked fantastic: Pizzas, burgers and chips. I could get used to eating here. I piled my plate with a range of calories and turned to find the till. People nudged me to the side, ushering to reach the food. I stepped back, unable to see a checkout. I watched as the other students simply walked to the tables without paying. My heart hammered in my chest at the thought of eating without paying. I turned back to the food counter, waving for the attention of one of the kitchen staff. A cheerful looking woman in a blue overall and hair net bustled forward, still holding a spatula.

“Excuse me. Where do I pay?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too childish.

She waved me away with a smile. “What? Oh, no need,” she said, and turned back to her simmering pan.

Free food? This was no ordinary university. I waded my way through the crowd until I found a table with a few free chairs. A group of girls sat on the table and chairs to one side. They talked excitedly, each one with matching perfect hair and makeup. I sat myself at the furthest edge possible and with a silent moan of pleasure, I bit into my burger.

“Hi there,” one of the girls called. She was perched on the edge of the table and had twisted round to look at me. Her long blonde hair draped over her fitted dress like a cover model. “You new here too?”

I choked back the mouthful of food unceremoniously. “Yeah. Just got here ten minutes ago. Do you know where we’re supposed to go after here?”

She threw a bundle of paper napkins toward me. With overwhelming embarrassment I snatched one up and wiped my mouth.

“My driver said we had to wait here for our induction. I’m assuming they’ll be checking us in to our rooms after that.” She pulled her mobile from her oversized handbag. “Do you have a signal?”

I fished mine from my rucksack and held it up. “No. Must be a dead spot.”

“A dead spot? You would think they’d have heard of signal boosters. How can we live here without a signal?” She threw her mobile back into her bag as if it had offended her.

“I’m used to it. Where I live, we hardly ever have a signal.”

“Well, I’m not. When I accepted this university offer they never mentioned that we would be roughing it.”

The girls around her laughed and she swivelled back to catch up on the conversation. I sighed in silent relief. All I could think about was inhaling the burger.

A voice broke over a speaker system announcing the commencement of the induction.

Attention all arriving students. Lecture theatre three is awaiting your arrival.

Everyone stood as one. Nobody moved toward the door. Voices echoed around the room all asking the same thing: where is lecture theatre three? I slung my bag over my shoulder and stood, waiting for the crowd to move toward the exit. It didn’t. Every face I turned to had an expression of dread. Feeling sick with nerves, I wove my way to the door and pushed through. The sound of footsteps thundered behind me as the hoard of people followed. Great, looked like I was leading the crowd and I was as clueless as the lot of them.

I took a few steps forward and considered the area. Behind me were at least a couple of hundred people. To fit that many in one room would take a big building. That ruled out some of the smaller castle structures. The tower blocks looked like ordinary blocks of flats, most likely accommodation. The centre main structure of the castle was the most prominent point of the university, which most likely meant it was offices and staffing areas. From what I could see, that left one of the oddly shaped modern buildings as a prime location of a lecture theatre. I set off toward it, smiling nervously at the sound of shuffling footsteps behind. As we rounded the corner, I could see the huge building was actually a number of buildings placed close together with glass walkways between them. Following my intuition, I headed for the third walkway. Ready for the onslaught of laughter from my following crowd if I got it wrong, I pulled on the wooden door.

“Welcome,” called a woman’s voice. I turned to see she was standing in the hallway by an open door. “This way, and congratulations on passing your first test.” She held out her hand toward me. “And you are?”

“Rozlyn Grove.” My trembling hand shook hers.

She stepped back and waved us through to the lecture room. It was filled with fold-up cinema chairs, all in rows which went down a level with each step. I headed straight for the left hand steps and sat myself at the front, at the extreme edge of the room. Students milled around, some sitting as far back as they could manage, some front and centre. All whispering nervously.

A loud clink of heels echoed through the room as the woman descended the steps. I peered out of the corner of my eye and saw the five inch heels pass me and stand at the front of the hall. She wore a severely fitted cream suit. Without one crease, it looked like she had never sat down in it.

“Shall we get started?” She smiled broadly, waiting for the chatter to silence. “Welcome, new students.” The woman held her arms wide dramatically. “My name is Doctor Llamp and I am senior lecturer here at Terram University.”

She pulled a remote control out of her trouser pocket and pointed it toward the front wall. The white screen flickered to life with bold black font asking:
Why have I been chosen?

“Many of you are most undoubtedly asking yourself this question. Why did we choose you?” I sank back in my chair. I hadn’t asked myself this at all. I was just so glad that at least one university wanted me, I didn’t think to consider why.

“Excuse me,” a voice from behind called.

I swivelled around in my chair to see who had interrupted. A petite girl had her hand in the air, one finger pointing to the ceiling. She had dark brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and was wearing what looked like a tattered band t-shirt.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but, I didn’t actually apply to this university.”

Murmurs of agreement flooded the room as the students asserted they too had never applied. A wave of relief washed over me.

Llamp nodded with a grin. “What is your name?”

“Bree. I mean, Bregus Llewellyn.” The girl lowered her hand and sank back in her chair.

“Well, Bree,” Llamp said her name pointedly, emphasising the shortened form, “you will be happy to discover that not one person at this university applied to enrol. Each of you have been chosen in recognition of your unique talents.”  She waited while the whispers died own.

I glanced to my right to see the confused expressions mirroring my own.

“Here at Terram, we do not aim to simply provide our students with academic success. We aim to bring you to your full potential. This will include life skills, physical wellbeing, and astuteness, in addition to academia. After all, life is not lived on paper, so why should you be limited to that?” She pressed the button and changed to the next slide:
Your choice
.

Movement at the back drew my attention. I turned to see a man handing out a slip of paper to each student. He was making his way through the rows of chairs, swiftly drawing closer. Llamp cleared her throat quietly. I whipped back around in my chair.

“Each of you have been selected based on your unique aptitude in selected areas. You may not have considered study in these areas before.”

The man reached my seat and held out a sheet of paper. Fastened with a paperclip was a picture of me. It looked like my last school photograph. I lifted the picture to read the heading:
Sociology and Psychology
.

“Within the information provided, you will discover the topic of study you are being offered. Please consider this a moment. Ask yourself, are you interested in pursuing this area of study?”

I read through the subject description:
The study of social groups, sub cultures, learned behaviour and manipulation
. I had never considered this area at all. Life working in my hidden away Cornish village had always kept me slightly separate from modern culture. But, thinking about it, I could see myself looking at a crowd and understanding how it works, why they were drawn together.

Llamp tapped her finger on a small microphone which was attached to her jacket, claiming attention. “The choice is yours. If you wish to enrol in this selected subject, please remain seated. Those of you who would like to decline the offer, please make your way to the next room.”

She held her hand out toward a door on the left, which the man was holding open. I gripped the paper to my chest and sat back in my chair. This was my one chance at university, at a new direction in life. It wasn’t my chosen subject, but it wasn’t a bad choice in topic. I could see myself studying it.

I watched as three people descended the stairway and headed through the door. A moment of hesitation later, a fourth followed.

“Is that everyone?” Llamp asked, looking to each face in the audience. “Good. Now comes the real choice.”

My head snapped up. Real choice? I thought that was the choice.

“Now I would ask you all to consider my next words carefully.” She paused and silence filled the room. “As you have discovered with our selection methods and your journey here, the general public are not privy to the information held within these walls. Whilst you are students here, your education will be two fold. In essence, you are to be trained to be of benefit to this country. This decision is non-reversible. Once you are enrolled here, you may not leave until you have completed your training. You will not be given the opportunity to change subjects and you will not be given the opportunity to take a gap year.” Whispering resumed throughout the room.

I watched her face, waiting for some hint of a clue. What did she mean, benefit to the country?

“And what if we don’t want to enrol?” A male voice shouted from the back. A few murmurs of agreement followed.

“Then now is the time to leave,” Llamp said, as the man opened the door once again. I peered through and could see no sign of the people who had just left. “Every student needs to be aware, this is a life changing decision. You are either in or out. There will be no further options to leave. Whilst enrolled at this university, you will learn that rules, rights and expectations are vastly different than you are accustomed to. Make no mistake; if you agree to stay, you stay under our rules.”