by c a king
A loud sigh echoed through the trees. Two damp twigs rubbing together weren’t going to do the trick. Still she persisted on—twirling and blowing. A tear threatened to freeze to her cheek. Nothing was working. The sticks fell in a pile, dark and lifeless. It was hopeless.
A blast of flames flew over her shoulder hitting the pile. The twigs ignited in a blaze of glory, dancing with a glowing warmth. Makayla’s head turned slowly, not wanting to startle who or what had come to her rescue.
A gasp escaped her lips, sucking all the air from her lungs with it. Not once, when she left her house for the academy program, did she think she’d come face-to-face with a dragon, yet here she was wondering if she was on the menu. The dragon grunted, snorting smoke in her direction.
“Hello,” Makayla muttered, lips trembling. “I don’t suppose you are my helper, are you? I mean it’s cool either way. Please don’t eat me.”
The dragon snorted, moving one wing to reveal a second dragon—this one no more than five or six inches tall. It flew over, with a fierce look on its face, making the little fellow twice as cute as he normally was. He snorted tiny puffs of smoke in her eyes before taking a perch on her shoulder.
“You are my helper?” Makayla asked, not wanting to make a move. Both dragons snorted. “I’ll take that as a yes. I guess I can pack up and head back then?”
The large dragon turned, disappearing into the shadows. An eerie silence falling over the forest was all it left behind. Even that was short-lived—rustling leaves and bushes taking over again. The fire dimmed, threatening to extinguish all together. Makayla’s new friend rushed to the rescue, huffing and puffing to try to ignite the dying embers.
“Puffer,” Makayla announced. “That’s the perfect name for you. Do you like it? I suppose you can’t actually answer. Even if you could, we have different languages. I’m not sure how we are supposed to communicate. If you could understand me, I’d ask you to warm up my toes. They are freezing.”
Puffer glanced over his shoulder. He hopped his way to her feet, blasting a breath of warm air directly on them.
“You can understand me.” Makayla’s lips curled up. “Thank you.” Puffer flew up to her shoulder, cuddling into the crook of her neck. The warmth melted away the rest of her chills. Eyes closed as the two relished in the moment.
It didn’t take sight for either of them to know they weren’t alone. Two glowing eyes brought back the cold bite the dragons had just chased away. Puffer fit perfectly in her sweater pocket. There was no sense risking his safety, as well as her own. A stick and a few stones were the only line of defence between them and the unknown lurking a few feet in front.
”Show yourself,” Makayla demanded, tossing a few rocks into the bush. A whimpering noise responded. She inched closer. “Are you hurt?” It could have been a trick, but her gut insisted otherwise. “I want to help you.” The stick fell to the ground; her arms outstretched.
Faster than her eyes could register, a creature leapt into her arms, holding on to her neck tightly in a fearful embrace.
Makayla glanced down at a shivering young gargoyle. “It’s okay,” she said, gently stroking his back. “Do you want to come with me, too?” He gripped tighter. “I’ll take that as a yes. I suppose you’ll need a name, too.” Leaving the pack and supplies, she started to head back to the academy. Two baby helpers were enough for one would-be grave digger, especially since she didn’t want the job. “I’ll call you Gargle.”
Tallen had been right. Gargoyles weren’t anywhere near as frightening as she had thought. Her reaction to the stone statues on the first day of classes seemed silly, now that she’d actually met one. Prejudice based on looks and hearsay should have been made as illegal as necromancy—a suggestion someone needed to put to the Crones. Of course, they wouldn’t have the time of day to listen to her.
Makayla glanced around. If she’d been smart, she would have left a trail of some sort to find her way back. As it was, she hadn’t. All trees looked alike in a forest. She paused, turning in a circle. The spinning only served to further confuse her already overstimulated mind.
“I think we are lost,” Makayla announced, letting out a sigh. Breath froze the moment it made contact with the chilling air. “I don’t suppose either of you two know the way back to campus.”
Puffer escaped her pocket prison, immediately pointing with his tail to the west, before snorting more smoke in her direction.
“That way, huh?” Makayla said.
Puffer nodded, fluttering a few feet in front of her before leading the charge. They were going to be hard to explain. Thomas had a squirrel, the headmistress had a bat, and somehow she ended up with two baby legendary creatures, and nowhere to keep them. That was something she needed to sort out fast. If Puffer’s family wasn’t happy with the arrangements, she was back to being on the barbecue menu.
Chapter Eighteen
Makayla wiped the beading sweat from her brow. One eye was fixed on her watch, the other focused on the project at hand. Making potions in dry and wet forms wasn’t as easy as it looked. If she couldn’t master the task, there was no chance she’d ever be a proper witch. Even mortals could use herbs to make cures for illnesses. It literally took no magic. All she needed were the right ingredients mixed in the correct way.
Her pink tongue popped out the side of her lips—all energy focused on crushing the mixture in her pestle and mortar. It needed to be as fine as freshly ground coffee, except she wasn’t allowed to use an electric grinder. Muscle work wasn’t one of her strong suits and time was ticking down. She still had to mix the dry ingredients with wet ones and heat them.
A part of her wondered how the others were doing. Taking even a split second away from her own work wasn’t possible. These final minutes were crucial. One hand grabbed the pitcher of beet juice, infused with cinnamon and pomegranate oil, the other held the mortar. In one big container she alternated adding the two. The headmistress was right; it looked like real blood.
“You have less than five minutes,” Professor Woolly announced. “I suggest you finish up as quickly as possible.
Five minutes! That was nowhere near enough time to bring a liquid to a boil. A smile twitched its way into the corners of her lips. She had a secret weapon. “Puffer,” Makayla called out, pulling open her pocket. “I need you to heat this dish please.” The pint-sized dragon fluttered into the air, exchanging glances between her and the container. “You can do it!”
Encouragement was always the best way to get results. If she believed in him, he might believe in himself enough to make his first spark. That was what everyone needed: a vote of confidence and a pat on the back for a job well done.
Puffer inhaled deeply, chest protruding and eyes bulging. In one blast he exhaled a dark cloud of smoke lined with sparks. He glanced back at her with sad eyes, tail drooping.
“That’s okay,” Makayla said. “Try again. You can do it. I know you can. Don’t give up.”
Puffer nodded, inhaling even deeper than before, holding his breath until his green scales had an orange and purple tinge to them. His mouth opened, allowing a stream of flames to escape. The mixture boiled on contact.
“You did it!” Makayla exclaimed, jumping up and down. “Thank you.” She rubbed his cheeks until a smile formed.
“That’s time,” Professor Woolly announced. “Please step away from your stations. I’ll be around to mark your concoctions.”
“Professor,” Frankie blurted out. “Is that fair? She used a dragon to finish her work. That’s an advantage none of us had.”
“I was under the impression each of you had found a helper,” Woolly snapped. “Do you not have one?”
“I do,” Frankie answered, “but it’s not a dragon.”
“That’s hardly Makayla’s fault,” Woolly snickered. “Using your helpers is something you all should be doing. Not only is it allowed, it is vital to your success. Figure out what they can do and put them to work. It seems only one of you learned that crucial les
son.” He winked at the class. “Here’s a hint: it’s an important piece of information. Don’t forget it in the future.”
“What am I supposed to have a squirrel do?” Thomas complained. “Other than crack nuts open?”
“That is for you to figure out,” Professor Woolly replied. “Your helpers came to you for a specific reason. Find out why, and you’ll uncover one of your greatest strengths.”
“Perhaps you could teach us a spell,” Cali suggested. “Something that could help us communicate with our helpers.”
“There is no spell that can help in that area,” Woolly snapped. “This is something you must do on your own. The bonding process is most important. These next few weeks will make or break your relationships.” He paused, glancing around the room. “There are somethings which cannot be taught. Trial and error is what makes us great.”
Chapter Nineteen
Emptiness was everywhere: in the corridors, at meals, even in the library. It all started with a void—the sort that being alone for the holidays created. Most of the first-years seemed to be in the same boat. Take away the students from other grades from the hallways, and it was orientation week all over again.
Makayla sat, staring out the window at the fresh blanket of white covering the ground. Snow—ice—they weren’t things she was fond of. Anything slippery and wet made her nervous. At home, her brothers would be tossing snowballs at each other, building snowmen, and then finding new spells to destroy their creations. That part she missed. Watching their antics always left a smile on her face.
Puffer hovered in front of her face, snorting out a cloud of smoke and shivering. Even he was cold and lonely. It was probably his first time away from home too. She opened her pocket for him to jump in.
Dragon and gargoyle had become best of friends since returning with her. Unfortunately, it was daytime and Gargle was busy being a statue. Their mismatched sleep schedules caused more than a number of problems. Amusingly enough, in a mortal school, kids would be pretending with dolls to be parents—she’d been thrust into the roll of mother in a more realistic way—a magical way.
The corner of her eye caught a shadow. Her head snapped to the window, but it was already gone—vanished into thin air. Happy chattering coming from below chased away goosebumps before they had the chance to fully form.
One of the few groups of senior students, remaining on the premises, trod across the yard, destroying the pureness of the picture-perfect wintry scene. Their laughter pierced through the silence, mocking those being left behind. They were heading to the one place she desperately wanted to go and couldn’t: town.
From her perch she had a bird’s eye view of the plot of hallowed ground the group was heading toward and the grave digger shovels. A foot pressed down on one—the student disappeared.
Makayla perked right up. Thoughts about that form of travel had been all but forgotten until that moment. The rest of the cheerful group systematically disappeared one by one. It didn’t seem fair. All of those in school should have been allowed to join in the local festivities. What else were they supposed to do? It wasn’t as if there were any classes.
A plan began taking form, as her feet rushed down the corridor. The others were bound to be holed up in the library, playing cards or reading one book or another.
“I have an idea!” Makayla exclaimed before fully entering the room. Wide eyed, she glanced between her three friends. “Let’s go to town.”
“How exactly do you plan on doing that?” Cali asked. “There is no way off this rock. We are stuck here until the bridge reappears, remember?”
“The shovels,” Makayla blurted out, her breath still laboured from the brisk walk there. “We can use them.”
“Slight problem with that plan,” Leo suggested, without looking up from the hand he’d been dealt. “We don’t know how to use them.”
“I do,” Makayla announced. “What are you playing?”
“Old Witch,” Thomas replied. “I just learned. I think I’m getting the hang of it. Watch, I’m about to take...”
Leo tossed down a set of three face cards. The women pictured cackled, before appearing in three-dimensional form on the table. Their wands aimed then fired, turning Thomas’s cards to dust. “That’s game,” Leo chuckled. The entire deck reappeared in one pile between them.
“You might need a bit more practice,” Makayla said, impressed with how well her friend was taking the loss. It could have gone either way. Sometimes Thomas was quite nonchalant when things didn’t go well—others, he broke down into a pile of blubbering mess.
“As you were saying,” Cali said, breaking the attention held on Thomas. “About the grave digger shovels.”
“I watched some seniors use them,” Makayla replied. “It’s simple. You just pretend you are digging. One foot on the shovel and press down.”
“Then what?” Cali questioned.
“Poof,” Makayla replied, snapping her fingers. “You disappear here and reappear there.”
“Yes, but it’s the there part that is the problem,” Leo complained. “How do we know where we will end up?”
“That bit seems quite simple,” Makayla suggested. “We have to think of the place we want to be. That’s how magic works, isn’t it? We visualize something and it happens.”
“I don’t know,” Thomas said, still staring at the deck of cards. “We haven’t actually been taught any magic yet.”
“Why do you think that is?” Makayla asked.
Thomas answered with a shoulder shrug. “Dunno, maybe because the professors think we are too daft to handle it.”
“It’s because they can’t teach it to us,” Makayla announced. “We have to learn it for ourselves. What better way to do that than taking a trip to town?”
“I don’t know,” Cali whined. “It seems awfully risky. We could end up in a lot of trouble.”
“This is a bad idea,” Leo said. “But what the heck, I’m in. What do we need to take with us? Should we pack anything?”
“Dress warm,” Makayla replied. “Maybe we should take the packs we made for Woolly’s class, too.”
“What for?” Thomas asked, one lip raised.
“We are travelling from one grave to another.” Makayla explained. “It couldn’t hurt to be prepared.”
Chapter Twenty
Clouds rumbled overhead—as always—threatening to unleash wrath on the academy and its students, even in the winter. Bad weather or not, there was no turning back. It was still fairly early, although, the rising darkness hid the true hour. Lightning flashed, illuminating the plot ahead. The grave digger shovels sat ominously in a row. Each one was spaced exactly the same distance from the other, dug deeply into the newly fallen blanket of white.
Makayla shook her head, watching an unusual low-lying fog creeping in. From it a shadow took form—a cloaked figure hovering over the end shovel—dissipating into nothing a split second later. A shiver raced down Makayla’s spine. That could have been the same person she’d been seeing since day one or her mind playing tricks. Which was anyone’s guess. There was no way to rule out either possibility.
The hoot of an owl mixed with a howl in the distance. Whether the unearthly noise was made by a beast or the wind was unclear. Death’s bony grip pinched hard on her shoulder. Makayla spun around, clocking Leo square in the jaw.
“Ow!” Leo rubbed his chin. “What was that for?”
“It serves you right,” Makayla blurted out. “That’s what you get for grabbing a girl in a creepy place in the dark.”
“Get used to it,” Leo snickered. “We are grave diggers, after all. Creepy is officially our middle names. Besides, what has you all jumpy?”
“You didn’t see the figure over there?” Makayla asked, pointing at the line of shovels. “I swear someone was right there.”
“There was no one there,” Thomas answered, teeth chattering. “If there was, I would have hightailed it back to my room. This whole plan is freaking me out.” He rubbed his
shoulders, jumping from one foot to another.
“He has a point,” Cali whispered. “Maybe we should forget the whole thing. It’s cold out. Besides, like I said before, we could get in a lot of trouble.”
“Do whatever you want,” Makayla replied, one hand gripping the top of the first shovel. “I’m going. There are a few places in town I want to visit.” The book on Ageis’ stones had to still be somewhere in the library. Finding it was the key to unlocking desperately needed answers. She spun around. “What are you doing here?”
A big bubble of chewing gum popped, the substance instantly pulled back between plump lips. “Wondering what the lot of you are up to,” Frankie scoffed. “You shouldn’t be out here. The hallowed grounds are forbidden to first-years.”
“You are standing on the same dirt... err snow, as we are,” Makayla pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest. “That makes you just as guilty if you are planning on squealing.”
“Oh, I have no intentions of turning you in,” Frankie huffed, her pigtails swinging back and forth with every move she made. “I only want in on whatever the plan is.”
“Well the laugh’s on you,” Thomas spat out. “There is no plan. We are going to grab a shovel and hope for the best.” He paused. “That sounded much better in my head.”
Frankie chuckled. “None of you even know how to control one of those things.” She rounded the group, stopping with one hand on the second shovel.
“Pffft. How hard could it be?” Makayla smirked, her wrist waggling back and forth. “We grab a hold, think of the hollowed place we want to head to, and press down with one foot.”
“Great,” Frankie snickered. “Then you won’t mind a bit of friendly competition.” Her head motioned to a large crypt. Three figures appeared. “Us against the lot of you. The first to have all four make it to town wins.”