The Tomb of the Sea Witch (Beaumont and Beasley Book 2)

by Kyle Shultz

  “I get the idea.” I leaned back against my desk.

  “Plus, we’re just not that good at things in general,” added Gareth. “Nobody likes us much. Even when we can use magic, we tend to bungle it.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said Alan. He took a blank piece of paper from his desk and started casually folding it into an airplane.

  “Weren’t you the one that got the binding spells wrong on the stables?” Gareth reminded him. “Ended up letting a pack of angry unicorns loose in the school?”

  “Oh, right.” Alan grinned. “That was a fun day.”

  So I ended up with the merry band of misfits, I thought. Brilliant. “Look,” I said aloud, “is it that important for you to learn how to manage without magic? I mean, is it that likely that you’ll ever be without it?”

  “There are lots of spells that can suppress magic.” Gareth shuddered at the thought. “And creatures with the power to do it, too. That sort of thing was going on all the time during The End, when everyone was afraid of magic.”

  “But you should know that already,” said Alan, raising an eyebrow at me. “Shouldn’t you, Professor?” He threw the paper airplane with a lazy flick of his wrist.

  “I lead a sheltered life.” I reached out to catch his creation, but it veered away from me, darting up toward the ceiling, whizzing in circles around my head, then gliding gracefully back into Alan’s hand.

  “How did you do that?” I demanded, propping my hands on my hips. “I didn’t see you cast a spell on that thing.”

  “I’m a centaur. My people are born with the ability to control motion. We don’t have to cast spells on things to move them around with our minds.” Yawning again, he arched his human torso backward and stretched his arms. “You know, Professor, you don’t seem very knowledgeable when it comes to magic or magical creatures. I thought you were supposed to be some experienced enchanter who got cursed during that business in Talesend.”

  “You heard right. Full marks for attention to detail when listening to school gossip.”

  “So why—”

  “And several marks taken off for persistent, irritating questions,” I interrupted. “All you need to know is that I’ve spent most of my life blending in among ordinary, non-Charmblood humans. Therefore, I have a lot of experience living without magic. Which means I’m the perfect person to help you figure out how to do it. Isn’t that exciting?”

  They didn't look excited. Gareth and Bryn both looked terrified. Alan looked disinterested. The tree looked…well, like a tree.

  “But first,” I continued, “somebody should wake up that dryad.”

  Alan elbowed Gareth. “Go on, then.”

  “What?” exclaimed the faun, looking perturbed.

  “This is your bag, isn’t it?” said Alan. “Aren’t your people famous for talking to trees?”

  “I don’t want to wake some random dryad out of a sound sleep! I don’t even know her! For that matter, I don’t even know if it’s a her or a him!”

  This surprised me. “I assumed the tree was a friend of yours.”

  “We’ve never met her before,” said Alan. “I’m just assuming it’s a her; they usually are. Of course, it’s not like anyone would be able to recognize her the way she is now, but dryads aren’t common at this school. We’ve never gotten to know any of them.”

  “Well, wake her up. I need all the students I can get.”

  Reluctantly, Gareth bent over the sapling. “Awake, O Tree!” he said, in a reverent manner.

  The tree twitched, then began to grow larger, its branches curving and twisting into unusual shapes.

  The faun continued chanting. “I, Gareth of Caradoc, do beseech thee on behalf of the Triad of Gruffs…”

  POW.

  One of the sapling’s branches had turned into an arm with a fist at the end. The tree punched Gareth directly in the face. His eyes crossed, and he collapsed to the floor with a loud thump.

  “Shut up, you miserable little goat,” snapped a female voice, as the tree rapidly took on the form of a young woman. She was dark-skinned, with a wild, stringy mop of hair, and eyes that were an eerie, bright shade of green. The white bark of the birch had transformed into an ash-colored dress that clung tightly to the dryad’s form. As her roots detached from the desk and turned into feet, she jumped down to the floor, looking from person to person with an expression of intense annoyance on her face.

  “I loathe satyrs,” she snarled, taking the blazer off the chair behind her and pulling it on over her dress.

  I raised my hand. “Actually, miss, I believe he was a faun.”

  Gareth’s index finger rose from between the desks. “Present tense,” he croaked. “Still alive. Thank you.”

  “And your name is…?” I inquired of the dryad.

  “Sylvia, if you must know. What’s going on?”

  “We’re having a class on Mundane Survival.”

  “Mundane…” Her eyes flashed. “I never signed up for that! They were using this classroom for Magical Horticulture a few seconds ago!”

  “What day d’you think it is?” asked Alan.

  “Tuesday!”

  “It’s Wednesday. I think they moved that class to a room downstairs today.”

  “Errrgh.” The dryad ground her teeth.

  “Dryads tend to take really long naps,” Alan muttered to me behind his hand.

  “I know,” I hastened to inform him. I hadn’t known that, of course, but I wasn’t about to let him score another victory, the arrogant horse’s—never mind.

  “I’m not doing this stupid class,” said Sylvia, in a petulant tone. “I refuse.”

  “Oh, really?” I stepped over to her and leaned forward until my face was inches from hers. “That’s just too bad. You’re here now, and you’re taking my class. And I don’t expect to hear any backchat. Is that clear?”

  We engaged in a brief staring contest, but she eventually gave in. “All right, fine.”

  “Lovely.” I surveyed the little group. “So, where do we start, exactly?”

  Gareth grabbed hold of a nearby chair and pulled himself up from the floor. “Maybe we could just start with baby steps?” he suggested. “Like not using magic for, oh…a minute, let’s say. And then we could gradually work our way up to about five minutes by the end of the school term.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “Five minutes.”

  “Right.” His smile was faintly optimistic. “It’d be hard, but I’m up for a challenge.”

  “Just don’t make us go outside, whatever you do,” said Bryn. “We’re definitely not ready for that.”

  I gaped at them. “You don’t even go outside?”

  They all shook their heads in unison.

  “Even you?” I pointed at Alan. “You’re the riding instructor, for heaven’s sake!”

  “We have an indoor riding arena,” said Alan. “Much safer.”

  “We don’t object to being outside in principle,” said Gareth. “If we were at home, we wouldn’t mind it at all. It’s just that being outside here, on this island…that’s a little too scary.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of the Undine,” said Bryn, in a trembling voice. She turned into a rabbit again, hopped down from the desk, and hid behind one of Alan’s front hooves.

  “The merfolk,” Alan clarified to me.

  I gave him a look. “Thanks, I know what Undine are.”

  “What a surprise.”

  By this point, I was fed up with the centaur. “Now, look here—”

  “The seas around this island are swarming with those things,” Sylvia interrupted. She was glaring into the middle distance, no doubt conjuring visions of the hated merfolk. “Horrible creatures. Can’t stand them.”

  “To be fair, no one’s actually seen them in centuries,” Gareth pointed out. “But you hear rumors. Unexplained shipwrecks. Strange songs in the night.”

  “And talking of creatures that can suppress magic,” said Alan, “those things are a
t the top of the list. Those creepy songs of theirs could wipe out our powers in seconds. Or so the legends say.”

  I drummed my claws on Sylvia’s desk. “I’ve learned the hard way not to discount legends, so I won’t dispute the idea that there are mermaids—merfolk, I mean—living near this island. But I do question whether you’ve got anything to fear from them. If they haven’t been seen for so long, you’re probably fine.”

  “Probably,” Gareth agreed. “But just to be safe, we’re staying inside these walls. No point taking chances.”

  I laughed. “Oh, yes there is. You’ll take chances if you want to get a passing grade in this class.”

  Gareth paled. “What?”

  Sylvia stiffened. Bryn squeaked in alarm and turned into a mouse. Even the unflappable Alan looked slightly rattled.

  “You heard me,” I said. “We’re taking a field trip. Not a long one, just down to the beach.”

  Bryn changed back into human form just long enough to yelp, “The beach?” before turning into a tiny wren and trying to hide in Alan’s long hair.

  “The beach,” I echoed firmly. “Come along, class.”

  “Oh no,” moaned Gareth.

  “Not good,” said Alan.

  “Eek!” chirped Bryn.

  “I hate you,” growled Sylvia.

  “Tough,” I replied.

  The rocky coastline of Warrengate Island was a good deal less forbidding than it had on the previous night. There was still fog, but less of it. Sunlight fought valiantly to break through the clouds overhead, and occasionally succeeded for a few minutes at a time. The sea was calmer than it had been when I last saw it, lapping against the pebbled shore in a slow, soothing rhythm.

  At least, I found it soothing. My students, on the other hand, were terrified. All except for Alan, who was just mildly worried. I assumed that was his version of terror.

  “Here we are,” I declared triumphantly, as the surf washed over my feet. I had found a place where the gravel had been worn down to actual sand—they would probably enjoy that more than the rough rocks. I looked over my shoulder and saw the class still keeping a safe distance of twenty feet or so between them and the water. “Come on, Mythfits.” I motioned impatiently for them to get closer.

  Gareth frowned. “Myth-what?”

  “It’s what I’m calling you. You get it, don’t you? You’re mythical creatures, you’re misfits…” I paused, waiting for the joke to sink in and bolster their cheerfulness. Not one of them even cracked a smile. “I thought it was funny.”

  “It’s not,” said Sylvia, sulking. She glared at the water in defiance, clenching and unclenching her fists as if daring an army of mermaids to rise from the water and attack her.

  Gareth raised his hand. “No offense, sir, but I thought you were going to teach us how to survive without magic. How exactly does a trip to the beach count as a lesson?”

  “You were the one who suggested ‘baby steps,’” I reminded him. “Given your fear of the great outdoors, I think the best thing to do will be to start by spending some time outside without using any magic whatsoever.”

  “No magic at all?” cried Bryn, who was currently a fox.

  “Exactly,” I said. “Starting now. So change back into a human, please.”

  She instantly transformed, but still retained her fox ears and tail.

  “Completely,” I insisted. “No magic. Remember?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a deep breath. Within a few seconds, she had taken on completely human attributes. The ears shrank and lost their fur, the tail faded away.

  “Perfect. Now stay that way.”

  Her face paled slightly. She fidgeted and glanced this way and that, uncomfortable in her own skin.

  “Gareth,” I said in a warning tone, noticing blue light flickering around the faun’s fingers, “what are you doing?”

  He hugged himself against the chilly breeze blowing down the beach. “Just a little warming spell. It’s freezing out here.” The school blazer he wore on his human torso clearly wasn’t doing much good against the cold.

  “They make these wonderful things called ‘jackets.’ One of your many homework assignments will be to get yourself one. Alan, stop making sand castles with your mind this instant.”

  Alan lowered his hands, and the elaborate replica of Warrengate that he’d constructed with his powers dissolved into a lumpy pile of sand. “What’ve you got against sand castles, exactly?”

  “Nothing. But if you’re going to make them in my class, use your hands.”

  “The sand’s dirty.”

  “Life is dirty. Cope.”

  “Killjoy.”

  “You’re not the first person to call me that, and you won’t be the last. Sylvia, why are you growing a cocoon of leaves around yourself?”

  “Because I loathe everyone,” she said, her voice muffled by the foliage. “Go away.”

  “Stop it.”

  “No.”

  “The more difficult you are, the higher the word count of your after-class essay will be.”

  “Hrrrgh.” There was a sound of fingers snapping, and the leaves vanished. “Fine,” she said, fuming.

  I smiled proudly. I’d finally got all of them to stop using magic at the same time. “Now, everyone come down to the water.” I pointed to the surf and gave them a stern look. “Right now.”

  Slowly, they shuffled through the sand to where I stood, stopping just short of the water. They drew back a little as the surf rose toward them.

  “Go on,” I urged. “Get your toes wet, at least.”

  Gareth raised his hand again. “Alan and I haven’t got toes, sir.”

  “Don’t bother me with semantics; just do as I say.”

  Reluctantly, the Mythfits edged into the water, flinching a little as it touched them. They stood huddled together, looking tense and miserable.

  I tried to get them to cheer up. “Well, now! This is a step in the right direction. Literally.”

  “We’re in the ocean,” said Gareth, his face white as a sheet.

  “Yes, you are.” I clapped a few times. “Excellent work.”

  “We’re in the ocean,” he repeated, “and we’re not allowed to use magic. This is my worst nightmare come to life.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Trust me, you’ll all survive.”

  Alan raised his hand. “What if we get attacked by mermaids?”

  “We are not going to get attacked by mermaids.”

  Bryn’s arm shot up. “What about walking skeletons in pirate outfits?”

  I chuckled. “Very imaginative. But I wouldn’t worry about undead pirates.”

  “Not even the ones standing right behind you?” asked Sylvia, smirking.

  I folded my arms and clicked my tongue. “Now, that’s very childish, isn’t it?”

  I should have known. With my luck, I really should have guessed that they were telling the truth.

  But I didn’t. I only figured it out once bony hands were wrapped around my throat.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Skeleton Pirates and Killer Unicorns

  The last person who tried to strangle me was Cordelia’s father. The incident did nothing to improve my opinion of the man. I had just thwarted his evil plan, of course, so I could understand his motivations. He had nearly succeeded, but only because the Clawthorn Rose did a much more thorough job of transforming him than me. I’m fairly certain he would have managed to choke the life out of me if Cordelia hadn’t intervened just in time.

  The skeleton, on the other hand, didn’t even get close to cutting off my air supply. I could feel its bony fingers digging into my flesh, which wasn’t pleasant, but my life certainly wasn’t in danger. Yet.

  I grabbed the creature’s arms and wrenched its hands free. Flipping it over my back, I threw it onto the sand so hard that its joints came apart. The detached skull let out a loud hiss and clacked its jaws as the skeleton tried to knit itself back together. It was draped in the tattered remains of a long
coat, and wore a crumpled three-cornered hat. Several of its teeth appeared to be made of gold, and there was a threadbare patch covering one of its hollow eye sockets.

  Naturally, there were more of them. Hearing a splash from behind me, I turned to see dozens of the things rising from the surf and shambling towards us. Many of them wore vestiges of pirate dress, but others had scraps of old naval uniforms hanging from their bones. Quite a few of them were carrying rapiers and cutlasses. Before I even had time to react, four of them leapt on me and started trying to pull my arms and legs from their sockets, while a fifth attempted to skewer me through the belly with his sword. The rusty weapon broke on my hide, thank goodness.

  The strangest thing was, in the midst of it all, I could hear that stupid lullaby. Again. It was just barely audible above the hisses and groans of the skeletons, and sounded like it was being sung by many voices at once in an eerie cacophony. This time, the lyrics were in Logrish instead of that weird language I’d heard before.

  Hurry, my darling, come and be mine

  Years shall pass by so quickly

  Blissful surrender shall be thine

  Until the day I call thee

  “I don’t suppose,” I grunted, smashing one of the skeletons into the sand with my elbow, “that any of you would be interested in, oh, I don’t know, helping me?”

  Gareth raised his hand. “We’re not very good at hand-to-hand combat, sir, and you said we weren’t supposed to use magic in this class—”

  “CLASS DISMISSED!” I boomed. “Use magic! Be free! Go crazy!”

  “Ah, brilliant,” said Alan, with a happy grin. He waved his hands, and a whole line of skeletons were thrown back by his powers, tumbling head over heels into the waves.

  Sylvia’s fingers grew into vines and wrapped around the skeletons, snapping their bones. “DIE!” she shouted.

  “They’re already dead!” Gareth reminded her.

  “DIE MORE!” She created a massive wooden club out of thin air and bashed one of the skeletons over the head with it, shattering its skull. This seemed to finally put it out of commission. The headless pile of bones lay perfectly still at her feet.

  Bryn was busy changing into a wide variety of helpful creatures. One second she was a dog gnawing on a skeleton’s thigh-bone, the next she was an eagle striking at their empty eye sockets with her talons. At one point, she even turned briefly into a centaur and started kicking at the skeletons with her hooves alongside Alan. She didn’t appear to have his motion-controlling powers in this form. I surmised that pookas couldn’t mimic the innate magical abilities of other species.