by c a king
She glanced at her luggage stacked in a corner, opting to flop on the bed and do nothing, instead of unpack. She twisted, a crinkling noise coming from behind her back. A roll to the side freed up the long list of rules—just what she wasn’t looking for.
“Don’t attempt to leave the grounds unaccompanied by a faculty member. Don’t barge into a class underway. Don’t disturb the dead. Never attempt to raise the dead. Stick to your class plan. Lights out is precisely at ten every evening. No students shall leave their rooms after lights out unless there are midnight classes. No student shall engage in magic for which they have not been trained. Blah... blah... blah.” She tossed the paper aside. “Rules!”
What good was coming to a magical academy if no magic was being used? A quick glance at a stack of textbooks was enough to toss a pillow over her head. The last thing she wanted to be stuck doing for the rest of her life was chopping up garlic to sprinkle over a vampire’s grave. The only way out of her situation was to outsmart everyone else. She was pretty sure Leo had that one wrapped up already.
Escaping air puffed out her cheeks as it waited to slowly pass through cracks between closed lips. Things couldn’t get much worse. A rap on the door jolted her to an upright position.
“Come in,” Makayla said, not sure if she should have offered a more formal greeting, or perhaps opened the door herself.
“It’s just me,” Miss Tallen said, peeking in. “I have your uniforms.” She extended her arm, offering four sets of hangers. “They should be your size. The laundry room is on the basement level. You are responsible for all of your own clothing. I suggest using an iron on the shirts. We don’t accept sloppy students here.”
“Thank you,” Makayla said, eyeing the clothing. “When do I wear these?”
“Anytime you aren’t in your room,” Miss Tallen answered. “In the closet you’ll find spare bedding. You are responsible for washing that yourself as well.”
“My brothers never had to do any of that,” Makayla complained.
“Your brothers aren’t at this school,” Miss Tallen replied. “They are at institutions with far bigger financial grants than we get here at Grave Digger Academy. Before you say it... no, it isn’t fair. We have the most important jobs and get little respect for doing them. It never used to be that way.”
“How did it used to be?” Makayla questioned.
Miss Tallen sighed. “That was long ago and far away. It’s nothing for you to worry about. All you need to do is make the most of the chance you’ve been given.”
“What if I don’t want this chance?” Makayla asked. “What if I feel as if my chance is passing me by while I’m stuck here?”
“That’s a hard one to answer,” Miss Tallen admitted, taking a seat on the bed beside her. “This academy dates back to one of the four original. Did you know that?”
“No,” Makayla admitted, shaking her head.
“Magic has the ability to see things in a way we can’t possibly understand,” Miss Tallen continued. “Sometimes we have to trust it knows what it is doing. You were selected to come here for a reason. It may not be obvious now, but one day, you’ll see it was the right decision. Until then, all we ask is you do your best.”
Makayla nodded her head as if agreeing, even though she wasn’t convinced. Plans of escape were still racing through her mind.
“Oh,” Miss Tallen said. “The doors to the wing lock at night. There will be no running amuck on my watch.”
Damn! Running amuck sounded like so much fun.
The window was the only saving grace for the dismal room. Makayla took a perch on the ledge, glancing down at the land below. Even with the weather taking a turn for the worse, she could make out a garden with large trees.
Lightning flashed. A shadow figure appearing directly beneath her—the same one she’d seen earlier. She shook her head, taking a second glance. Whatever she had witnessed, real or not, was gone.
Chapter Nine
“Welcome!” Ms. Moth bellowed. “Welcome. Take your seats quickly. There is a lot of ground to cover this semester.” She covered her mouth with a black fan, giggling. “Get it?” She paused, glancing around at a sea of blank faces. “Ground... To... Cover.” Her fan snapped closed. “Never mind. It’ll come to you one day.”
“Not likely,” Thomas snickered under his breath to no one in particular. “I hope this class isn’t as lame as her jokes.”
“Who can tell me the difference between Gravediggers and Grave Diggers?” Ms. Moth asked. “Anyone?” Drawn-on eyebrows waggled, anticipating answers.
“Gravediggers actually dig the spot the coffin goes in,” Leo explained. “Grave diggers prevent already dead and buried bodies from rising.”
“Very good,” Ms. Moth complimented. “That’s why each of you need a grasp of how different types of beings rise from the dead before moving on to regular classes. First we need a list of the dead or undead, if you will.” A piece of chalk rose behind her, scraping on a blackboard. “Call them out, don’t be shy.”
“Ghosts.”
“Wrights.”
“Vampires.”
“Zombies.”
“Wraiths.”
“Keep going, there are plenty more,” Ms. Moth urged.
“Skeletons.”
“What about mummies?” Thomas asked.
“Good one,” Ms. Moth praised.
“There are all sorts of ghouls and phantoms that could fall under the category of ghost,” Leo blurted out. “Banshees could also be added to the same list.”
“What about necromancers?” Makayla questioned, glancing around as the room fell silent. “Didn’t they specialize in bringing the dead back to life?”
Ms Moth giggled nervously. “Necromancy was outlawed many years ago. We don’t discuss, let alone teach, such matters. The Crones are quite strict on that.”
“That doesn’t make much sense,” Makayla argued. “If we are to stop the dead from rising, shouldn’t we be prepared to face off with a necromancer or two?”
“There are no necromancers to face off with, dear,” Ms. Moth explained. “The practice of that particular type of magic is illegal. I think you’ll find those who did engage in such activities are either dead themselves or locked away for the safety of the rest of civilization.”
“But is death the end?” Makayla questioned. “I mean, isn’t that where all of the risen dead come from? A mummy is a person who tried to defy death, preserving their body. That sounds like necromancy to me.”
“That would be why I am teaching the class...”
“And if a necromancer mastered their craft, shouldn’t they have put in place a way to resurrect themselves.” The grumbles coming from her peers stopped further words from forming.
“Absolutely not,” Ms. Moth replied sharply, her voice stern.
“Doesn’t that seem odd to you?” Makayla complained. “They studied how to beat the Grim Reaper. If anyone could rise from the beyond, shouldn’t it be one of them?”
“That’s enough, young lady,” Ms. Moth blurted out, nostrils flaring. “I don‘ t want another word out of you for the rest of this session. You’ll stay after and attend Headmistress Meet’s office with me. Understood?”
Makayla’s lips refused to move, no matter how hard she tried. Magic! It came without a wand, without a spell. There was more to the craft than she expected. Her head nodded, hoping her mouth would unseal before class was over. It didn’t.
Chapter Ten
The headmistress’s office was at the very top of the tallest tower and the only way in or out, at least that Makayla could see, was via stairs—a lot of stairs. Muscles complained bitterly at the thirty-minute workout crammed into less than half that time. They deserved a rest at the top, as did her laboured breath. Ms. Moth, however, had other plans.
“Move aside,” the instructor ordered, waving her student out of the way. The black fan snapped shut, hand preparing to knock. The door squeaked open before there was need.
“Come in,” the headmistress called out. “I’ve been expecting you. What in magic’s name took the two of you so long?”
Makayla glanced back at the stairs. “No idea. Oh wait... maybe it was the climb.”
The headmistress removed her glasses—the hole, the woman’s normal vision burnt through Makayla, was strong enough to put a quake in her knees. “You seem like a smart girl. Surely a first-year as brilliant as yourself can figure out an easier way to reach the top.”
“There is one, isn’t there?” Makayla huffed. “I knew it.” Fingers snapped loudly, disturbing a bat hanging from the rafters. Beady black eyes stared down at her.
“Calm down, Boris,” Headmistress Meet ordered. “He tends to overreact to noises.” She waited for the bat to settle back into a state of slumber, wrapped tightly in its own wings. “As I was saying... there is always another way. That’s what we call magic. Since you profess to be an expert on the subject...”
“I don’t know anything about magic,” Makayla blurted out. “I don’t have a wand or spell book. I haven’t been taught anything...”
“And yet you argue with your instructor on the first day. That seems a little strange, don’t you think?” the headmistress interrupted in a stern tone—the sort normally reserved for angry parents scolding their children by using their full names.
Makayla hadn’t heard her middle name in a few years, nor did she want to. It was horrid, having belonged to a relative she never met—some ancestor on her mother’s side. There wouldn’t be much choice once she headed home, though. It was sure to be thrown about a few hundred times and that was only on the first day.
“That’s hardly the sort of behaviour I would expect from a member of your prestigious family,” Ms. Moth piped up. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about each of your brothers. Of course, you are a seventh born, aren’t you?” Her fan snapped open, hiding a growing smirk.
“You can go, Ms. Moth. I will handle the situation.” Headmistress Meet waited for the door to fully shut. “Pay no attention to that rubbish.”
“Which rubbish would that be?” Makayla questioned.
“About you being seventh born,” the headmistress replied. “It’s an old fable.” She motioned to an empty seat.
Makayla sighed, her bag of books hitting the floor. This meeting was going to take much longer than she hoped. “Is there something wrong with being the seventh child born?”
“No,” the headmistress blurted out, flicking her wrist back and forth. “Not at all. It’s a bunch of urban legends... old wives’ tales, nothing more. Don’t even give it a second thought. What we need to discuss is the way you insist on bring up necromancy. No good can come of such talks.”
“I just don’t understand how we can learn about stopping the dead from rising if we aren’t allowed to discuss the magic involved in doing the rising,” Makayla said. “I am right, aren’t I?”
The headmistress offered a thoughtful glance. “Yes, and no.” A finger tapping against her lips moved to wag in Makayla’s direction. “There is a history few people want or need to remember. You have to understand it was a terrible time. There wasn’t a witch alive who wasn’t fearful of the outcome.”
“You are talking about when necromancy was legal,” Makayla stated. “Something happened, didn’t it?”
The headmistress nodded. “It did,” she admitted. “There was one who went beyond what was considered normal, perverting death magic in a most heinous way, and as a result, the practice of necromancy is now illegal.”
“Ageis,” Makayla mumbled under her breath.
“How do you know that name?” Headmistress Meet bellowed. “Did your family teach you about him?”
“No,” Makayla replied, shaking her head. She gulped back the lump forming in her throat. “I saw a book in the library on the way here called Ageis’ Stones. It was the one I moved to open the secret door.”
The headmistress sank into the chair behind her desk. “That’s not possible. All books on the subject were destroyed. There are no copies left.”
“I wasn’t alone,” Makayla said.
“I believe you,” the headmistress replied, waving off any further explanations. “Where is the book now?”
“I dropped it,” Makayla answered. “I didn’t know what to do since the door was closed, and I couldn’t put it back in its spot on the opposite side. Did I do something wrong?”
“No. No, not at all,” a smile graced Headmistress Meet’s lips. “Did you by chance read any of the book?”
“No, not a word,” Makayla replied. “I was honestly more worried about finding my way to classes.”
“That begs to question how a young thing, such as yourself, knew what the book was about,” the headmistress suggested. Her eyes narrowed, glancing over her student. “How did you make the connection?”
“I don’t know,” Makayla admitted, biting her bottom lip. “It simply came to mind.” Her words faded, a picture of a cemetery catching her attention. This was the only room she’d seen anything hung on the walls.
“I knew you were special,” Headmistress Meet muttered. “This might prove exactly what I have been sensing.” Her thumb came down hard on a red button. “Send a message to the Crones. I think someone is brewing again and the cauldron is about to bubble over.” Her attention returned to Makayla. “Are you all right?”
“That picture,” Makayla replied, her gaze still focused on the familiar sight. “It’s the same cemetery I passed on the way here, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Headmistress Meet admitted. “I’m surprised you recognize it. Pray tell, how is it you do?”
“I remember seeing someone hovering over a freshly dug grave,” Makayla admitted. “It seemed odd at the time.”
“Who?”
“I’m not sure,” Makayla answered. “Whoever it was wore a cloak and appeared to be performing some sort of a ritual. Something was burning. I was too far away to see any real details. Besides, I figured it was a grave digger at work.”
“It very well could have been,” the headmistress agreed. “Humour me and tell me what was odd about it.”
“It was more a feeling,” Makayla admitted. “I thought I saw a shadow taking shape. It was probably my imagination because of this.” The crystal ball necklace dangled free. “It filled with a green smoke.”
“You are full of surprises,” the headmistress chuckled. “Tell me, how did a young girl come by such a rare and powerful magical object?”
“My mother gave it to me this morning,” Makayla explained. “It’s been handed down for generations. I don’t think it works properly, though. My mother said it never did anything while she owned it. I didn’t see anything other than green smoke. I thought for sure there would be a message written in it or something, but nada.”
“It’s a powerful artifact to those it trusts,” the headmistress said. “It appears it might believe in you. Make sure you listen carefully.”
“Oh, it didn’t say anything,” Makayla blurted out, tucking the crystal ball back into her shirt, “not a word.”
“Sometimes we don’t need to use our ears to listen,” the headmistress suggested, ushering her student to the door. “Back to classes with you. No more talk about necromancy, either. We don’t teach it here. That’s the law, like it or not.”
Makayla turned in time to see the door shut in her face. Her head shook. Listening without ears was the silliest thing she’d heard yet.
Chapter Eleven
A fire crackled in an oversized fireplace, shadows of flames dancing on stone grey walls—a tribute no doubt to the weather gods—meant to keep an approaching storm at bay. It was a useless gesture. Lightning cracked its whip. A thunderous boom sounded immediately after, starting the game. Drops of rain competed against one another in a race to the ground. Lights flickered, extinguishing in unison. The wicks of candles ignited one by one without match or aid.
“Finally, some magic,” Makayla huffed, falling back into an oversized be
anbag chair. “I was starting to wonder if I’d ever see any here.”
“So how bad did you get reamed out?” Thomas asked, pulling a toasted marshmallow from the roaring flames. He yanked the gooey mess off its stick, trying to shove it all in his mouth in one go. Bits of sticky white smudged all around his mouth.
“I thought it was going to be terrible at first,” Makayla admitted. “Then things changed. Something is going on, and I don’t think any of us are supposed to know about it.”
“Like what?” Cali asked, shoving a cookie in her mouth whole. “Dinner.” Crumbs fell from her lips, landing on her uniform. “I didn’t feel like cooking,”
“I don’t know,” Makayla admitted.
“Or maybe you are blowing things out of proportion,” Leo suggested. “We aren’t allowed to talk about certain subjects for a reason. The one you chose to pipe up about is simply the most unnatural.”
“So are cases of the dead rising,” Makayla argued.
“That’s literally why we are learning how to stop that from happening,” Leo replied. “Imagine what would the world would be like if no one did.”
“Imagine what would happen if someone controlled the dead,” Makayla blurted out. “Wouldn’t that be worse?”
Thunder boomed, two large windows blowing open. Red curtains snapped at anyone who dared to try to stop the tempest from entering the room.
“Grab them,” Leo yelled. “I’ll get the latch.”
Cali wrapped her arms around the now soaked material with a bear hug grip. “Hurry up!” she complained, feeling her feet slipping in a growing pool of water. “I can’t hold them much longer!” The wind howled with laughter, sending her flying backward. She landed with a thud on her butt. “Ow!”