The School between Winter and Fairyland

by Heather Fawcett

  Even as he hit the wall, Autumn was moving. She planted herself between Cai and Winter’s body, still motionless in the chair.

  “Autumn,” Cai murmured. He was himself again, Autumn thought, but there was still too much of the forest in his eyes. Autumn didn’t know who would win—Cai or that terrible hunger. Cai’s gaze drifted to Winter and seemed to harden. Autumn gripped her stick.

  Light flared. Autumn cried out, throwing her arm over her face. Glass shattered, and a gust of chill wind lashed her face. Autumn opened her eyes.

  Cai had vanished. The pane of glass was gone, opening the observatory to the night. A glimmer of light fled from the tower, darted over the magic-lit castle and the craggy mountainside, and was gone.

   21

  IN WHICH A BOY IS PUT BACK TOGETHER

  Autumn couldn’t move. She stood by the broken pane, the wind pulling at her hair and clothes, staring in the direction Cai had gone. Everything seemed to have slowed, including her ability to think. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what had happened. Half the gwyllions had taken off after Cai, while the others wheeled overhead, filling the air with confused mutterings.

  “Autumn?” a voice said.

  Autumn whirled. “Winter!”

  He had fallen out of the armchair and was propping himself up on his hands. Autumn lunged forward and drew him close.

  “Autumn.” Winter’s voice was dry, and he coughed. “I knew—I knew you—”

  “Of course you did.” Tears slid down her face. “Winter.”

  “That’s my name,” he said in a voice full of wonderment. “I almost forgot it.” He was shivering so hard Autumn worried he would come apart. She drew Gran’s cloak tighter around him and kissed his head a dozen times. His hair was as soft as rabbit down.

  “I was at the edge of the forest,” he said. “I remember! I remember.”

  “You don’t have to talk now,” Autumn said. “Can you stand? We have to get you home so Gran can look at you. I bet she forces a quart of her cure-all down your throat.”

  She was laughing and crying, shaking almost as badly as Winter. Nothing felt real. The gwyllions were forgotten—even Cai was forgotten.

  She had found Winter at last.

  But Winter kept talking, the words spilling out like water from a burst dam. “Autumn, I forgot everything when I was in the mirrors. I forgot Gran. I almost forgot you! And I forgot about the Hollow Dragon.”

  Autumn sucked in her breath. “So the Hollow Dragon did get you? And here I was, sure it was something else.”

  Winter nodded. “I was at the edge of the forest, gathering the wisps. But one of them wandered into the Gentlewood, so I followed it—I went as far as the toadstool ring. I wasn’t afraid, because how many times have we gone to the toadstool ring and met nothing worse than a dozy troll? The Hollow Dragon was so quiet, I didn’t hear him coming. I just heard someone singing, quiet and lovely. I didn’t see him until he was right there. His eyes were like two flames in the dark.”

  The words kept pouring out. “He swallowed me in one gulp,” Winter said. “It was so hot—I knew it was hot, but I couldn’t feel it. And the Hollow Dragon mustn’t have chewed me up before he swallowed, because I don’t remember that either.” He looked down at himself. “I’m not chewed at all, am I?”

  Autumn’s mouth was dry. “And here I thought those old snags were confused. I tried to follow your path, but I couldn’t work it out. How did you end up in Inglenook? And all—all pulled apart?”

  “I don’t know. Everything went dark after that dragon swallowed me. When I woke up, I wasn’t in the forest anymore. I was here in Inglenook, stuck in the mirrors.”

  “Someone brought you back,” Autumn murmured. “That’s the only explanation. Someone got you away from the Hollow Dragon and brought you back here in pieces. But who? The headmaster?”

  Winter pushed himself up. The shaking was less, but he was still far too pale for Autumn’s liking. “I thought you said Cai Morrigan was here.”

  Autumn swallowed. “He was. He’s been helping me—he pulled you out of the glass. He’s not some snooty magician, Winter. He’s all right—he’s some sort of monster. He lost control of himself back there.” She let out her breath. “Oh, he’s going to hate himself for that. Poor Cai.”

  Winter nodded. “I thought I sensed something … Something bad.”

  “He’s not bad.” Her eyes welled with unexpected tears. “He’s my friend.”

  Winter looked thoughtful. “He felt familiar somehow. I can’t put my finger on it.” He gazed at the motionless figures by the fire. “What about them? We have to help them too.”

  “We will,” Autumn promised, though she had no idea how, without Cai. “Right now, we have to get you home. Come on.”

  “What’s that?” Winter gazed past her, toward the upper level of the headmaster’s office.

  “What?” But a second later, Autumn heard it. Someone was coming up the tower stairs. Someone with two heavy feet and a staff that struck the ground with every second step.

  “Get behind me.” Autumn placed herself in front of Winter, her heart thudding. She gripped the walking stick until it hurt. Was it Cai? If it was, would he be her friend again, or was he returning to devour both their souls?

  Winter, behind her, squeezed her hand. Autumn felt the weight of fear lessen. Whatever happened, he was with her. She squared her shoulders and faced the figure pacing across the floor of the headmaster’s office.

  “Ah,” a voice said. “I guessed I might find you here one of these days. Got no sense in your head at all, do you, girl?”

  It was Gran.

   22

  IN WHICH THE BOGGART IS A LITTLE BIT HUMAN

  Autumn blinked, unable to understand how Gran, so much a part of the mountains and the forest, could be standing there in the headmaster’s office, now or at any other time. “How—what—”

  “Give me a minute, now,” Gran said. She wheezed and leaned against the railing leading down to the observatory. “Ay! All those stairs don’t get any easier over time, and that’s the truth.”

  A dark shape skimmed over Autumn’s head, tearing out several strands of her hair. The Lords and Ladies will take what is theirs!

  Autumn shrieked and hefted her walking stick. But Gran didn’t blink. She hobbled down the short flight of stairs to the observatory, leaning against her own stick. “The Lords and Ladies can mind their business,” she growled, “else they’ll get a kick in their royal behinds.”

  The gwyllion hissed. It’s the rude old hag. The Lords and Ladies will teach her to bow to her betters, won’t they?

  “Oh, go soak your heads, you overgrown turkeys. Go on, GET,” Gran added in the Speech, her voice like a clap of thunder.

  The gwyllion flapped backward as if lifted by a powerful wind. Such disrespect! it managed before it was wafted through the broken pane and into the night. The other gwyllions followed after it in a great huff, their beaks clacking.

  “Hope they didn’t give you any bother, girl,” Gran said, eyeing the broken pane. “I ordered them to keep to the other tower so they don’t trouble the headmaster, but some folk never learn to listen, do they?”

  “Gran?” Winter stepped out from behind Autumn.

  Gran froze. Autumn didn’t think she’d ever seen her so thunderstruck. In that moment, she looked old and thin in a way she hadn’t before, as if some of the substance had gone out of her. “Winter?” she whispered. “Is that my boy? My old eyes are playing tricks.”

  “It’s me, Gran.”

  “Cai pulled him out of the mirror,” Autumn said. “He pulled him out, and then he ran off because—because … Oh, Gran, it’s a very long story. I don’t know what to do. I think Cai needs our help as much as these people do.”

  Gran seemed not to hear a word. She knelt and pulled Winter into her arms.

  She held him for a very long time. When she finally drew back, her face was wet. “Is that really my boy? You came back to us?”
/>   Winter had tears on his face, too. “I came back. Thanks to Autumn.”

  “And the Hero of Eryree, I hear?” Gran wiped her nose on her sleeve and pinned Autumn with a hard look.

  Autumn shook her head. She couldn’t bear to talk about Cai in that moment. “Gran, what are you doing here?”

  “Oho. Think you get to ask the questions first, do you, girl?” She looked back at Winter, and her gaze softened. “Though I do suppose you’ve earned the right to some answers. I come here every night, child, to check on my grandson.” Her gaze shifted from Winter to the motionless people in the armchairs, and a shudder went through her. “Or what remained of him, that is.”

  “Every night?” Autumn goggled. “Does the headmaster know?”

  Gran blew out a gusty breath. “Course he knows. Think I’ve got the magic to cut through his silly spells without his say-so? He lets me come and go as I like.”

  Autumn’s voice shook with anger. “You knew all along Winter was here. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Gran heaved another sigh and said, “All right. I’ll give you the tale from the beginning. But first, we’re going home. Your brother needs food and rest.”

  “I’ve rested enough.” Winter was pale but determined. “And I’m not leaving Maddie and the others until we pull them out, too.”

  “Good grief! They’re beyond our help, child. Don’t you think I would have put you back together long ago if I could, and them others too?” Gran shook her head. “Maybe if you hear the story, you’ll believe me. Come along.”

  She led them to the headmaster’s desk. She seated Winter in the magnificent chair of oak and blue velvet. Autumn fussed over Winter, drawing Gran’s cloak tighter and getting him strawberry tea from one of the pots on a shelf. It was as fresh and hot as if newly brewed.

  “Where do I start?” Gran said. “I suppose with my little scuffle with the Hollow Dragon.”

  Autumn’s mouth fell open. “You rescued Winter and brought him here?”

  Gran snorted. “Who else? When your brother disappeared that night, I went after him. Found him in that old mushroom ring. But there was one problem—it wasn’t all him.”

  Autumn’s heart sped up. “Not all him?”

  “The Hollow Dragon, you see,” Gran said, “is a soul-eating monster.”

  Autumn gripped the edge of the desk. Her heart was so loud it drowned out almost everything else. “A soul-eating monster.”

  Winter’s brow was furrowed. He didn’t notice Autumn’s expression. “So it—it ate my soul?” He touched his chest, as if feeling for teeth marks.

  “In a manner of speaking. When that creature takes a soul, he don’t eat it right away. He gathers and feeds on it bit by bit till there’s nothing left but scraps. You know what that means?”

  Winter thought. “That the souls can be rescued?”

  “That’s it. After I found your body, I followed the Hollow Dragon’s trail and I fought him. I got your soul back and trapped it in a mirror the headmaster gave me—he’d enchanted it for that purpose, see.”

  Autumn let out a soft “Ah.”

  Gran squinted at her. “Figured that part out, did you?”

  “I saw Winter once,” Autumn explained. “In one of the castle windows. Cai guessed it was that sort of enchantment. But he didn’t think anyone remembered how to cast it.”

  “Some magics are best forgotten.” Gran shook her head. “Though I can’t deny that old spell came in handy. Anyway, I collected Winter’s body and his soul both and brought them to Inglenook. I’ve rescued others the same way over the years—as many as I could.” She gestured toward the observatory and the motionless figures. “There was only one problem.”

  “The headmaster couldn’t figure out how to put them back together,” Autumn murmured.

  Gran shook her head. “No. And worse yet, the spell doesn’t stick. Glass isn’t a soul’s natural habitat. The soul starts to die. Eventually it fades altogether.”

  Autumn clung to Winter. She had come so close to losing him. “Why, Gran? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Gran’s creased face softened. “I think you already know the answer, child. ’Cause I didn’t see any prospect of saving him. Oh, Headmaster Neath was full of promises, he was. Swore he’d figure out a way to put all these folks back together. Made it sound as easy as joining up pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. I hoped. But as the years went by, my hope got fainter and fainter. Neath’s a clever boy. But some monsters, well—they’re beyond cleverness.”

  Autumn drew a ragged breath. “Gran, Cai put Winter back together. He pulled him out of the mirror.”

  Gran gave Autumn a long look. “I didn’t know he could do that. But then, there’s a lot about their kind we don’t know.”

  Autumn’s mouth was dry as ash. “They’re alike, aren’t they? Cai and the Hollow Dragon?”

  “Very like,” Gran agreed, “as they’re brothers.”

  “Brothers!” Winter cried.

  Autumn, though, said nothing. She was thinking over everything that had happened. “You knew about him all along,” she said.

  “That I did,” Gran said. “I was the one who brought him here, after all, when he was a babe. The headmaster wanted him to be part of the menagerie.”

  Autumn reeled. Cai, part of the menagerie? Like Amfidzel, or the other monsters Gran captured when they were young? It was a moment before she could speak. “What is he?”

  “That I can’t say,” Gran said. “There are many Forgotten Beasts—beings so old and strange that we humans don’t remember their names, or maybe we never named them. But what I can say is that his kind is bodiless—like the boggart. But unlike boggarts, Cai’s folk often like to possess living creatures.”

  “I know,” Autumn murmured. “Cai and I saw the Hollow Dragon in the woods. But Gran, that dragon was dead. Really dead.”

  Gran nodded. She sat down on the edge of the desk. “Thirteen years ago, during the last and worst Long Winter, Cai’s parents were making all sorts of trouble—not his human parents, mind, but those he was born to. They stole dozens of souls from the villages up north. The king sent magicians and soldiers to kill them—Headmaster Neath among them. They thought they’d succeeded. But in truth, they only killed the dragons those monsters were possessing. Cai’s folks kept on taking souls. That was when the headmaster came to me.”

  Winter’s eyes were round. “To you, Gran?”

  Gran grimaced. “Now, I’m not normally one to be part of the heroic goings-on in Eryree. I mind my business and leave that nonsense to magicians and knights. But the headmaster and I have always gotten on just fine, and he knew I could help. He gathered up a handful of magicians, and together we went into the Gentlewood. I helped them track down Cai’s parents. Then they killed them properly dead.”

  Autumn pressed her hand to her mouth. “They killed Cai’s parents?”

  “Forgotten Beasts who were feasting on countless souls like your brother,” Gran said. “And yes, they were Cai’s parents. You can be glad they’re gone and sad for Cai, child. Both those things can be true.”

  Autumn gripped Winter’s hand tighter.

  “There was one problem, though,” Gran said. “Those two Forgotten Beasts the magicians killed? They weren’t alone. They had their children with them.”

  Autumn and Winter drew in their breath.

  “Now, I could sense they were children,” Gran said. “Though they were in the bodies of full-grown dragons, like their parents. One was older. The other was brand-new. Born only a few days before, I thought.”

  “Cai’s afraid of dragons,” Autumn murmured. “He can’t even get near one without seeing a lot of awful visions. Oh!” She sucked in her breath. “His visions … Those are visions of the past, not the future. They’re memories.”

  Gran nodded slowly. “It fits. He saw his parents killed in front of him. I imagine something like that would stick to a person, even if he was just a baby. Anyway, the older child escaped, still wearing that awful dea
d dragon. But the younger was easy prey, and the magicians snared it with a spell. The headmaster was delighted. He wanted the students at Inglenook to study Cai like they would study any other monster, and train to fight him.”

  Autumn hung on Gran’s every word. “But if these Forgotten Beasts were as strong as all that, wasn’t it a bad idea to bring one to the menagerie?”

  “You don’t think I told the headmaster that?” Gran said with a humorless laugh. “He heard me out, but he’s a celebrated magician, and too sure of his own wisdom. And what do you think happened? We brought Cai here, still wearing his dragon skin, and we could barely contain him. And of course, as the days passed, he grew hungrier and hungrier. It was clearly only a matter of time before he escaped and took some poor child’s soul for his dinner. The headmaster’s plan was in shambles. Or so I thought. I thought, surely he’ll just kill the monster and be done with it.”

  Gran drew a deep breath. “Well, it just so happened that one of the servants had recently given birth to a magician. A little boy. The headmaster decided it was the perfect solution. The child was only servant-born, and if he died, what did it matter? And so—without telling me beforehand, not that I could have stopped him if he had—he put the monster-child in the magician-child’s body and bound him there with the child’s own magic. Bound him so well that not even the Hollow Dragon himself would recognize him if their paths crossed.”

  “Oh, Cai,” Autumn whispered.

  “Oh, Cai, indeed,” Gran said. “Anyway, that’s the long and short of it. The headmaster thought he might still study the monster as he grew up, but there was no longer anything monstrous about him—he acted like the child he thought he was. And then that ridiculous seer made that prophecy at his bedside, and suddenly Cai Morrigan the servants’ child became Cai Morrigan, savior of Eryree.”

  Winter was watching Autumn worriedly. He could sense what she was feeling.

  You already knew Cai was a monster, she told herself, knotting her shaking hands. This doesn’t change anything, not really.

  But she knew it did. It changed everything.