Frost Prisms (The Broken Prism Book 5)

by V. St. Clair

  A few of the Masters frowned thoughtfully in the silence that followed this.

  “And he didn’t show any signs of recognition when you were sharing your life story with him? You said you told him about his own role in how you came to be at Mizzenwald…” Master Kilgore prodded gently.

  “He just looked like it was an interesting story—not like it was familiar at all. I don’t know why, but I think for some reason he really didn’t remember any of that until we left the schism. Even once we made it out, it took him a couple minutes to remember who he was.”

  “Hayden’s right,” Asher interjected at this point. “When he caught sight of me he initially thought we were still friends. He asked me who I’d stolen Mastery robes off of.”

  “That still doesn’t make sense,” Master Potts persisted. “The other realm should distort anyone who crosses through with open Foci, and since we’ve established that Aleric probably wasn’t using magic to protect himself inside the other realm, he should have been as affected as Hayden was by it.”

  “Should he?” Master Laurren asked quietly, capturing everyone’s attention in that subtle way of his. “He was already suffering under massive distortion effects from his own work with broken prisms. We really have no idea what happens to someone who crosses realms under those circumstances. If it drives a sane person crazy, mightn’t it force a crazy person sane?”

  Hayden’s mouth wasn’t the only one to drop open at that mind-blowing possibility. Master Asher had spent over a decade trying to find a cure for mental distortion; was there another way to go about it involving schisms? Admittedly, forcing someone to live in that horrible realm for the rest of their lives in order to remain sane was hardly ideal, but maybe it was a start…

  “If he was suddenly cured of his mental issues, then why didn’t he remember who he was?” Master Sark persisted, though he looked floored by the very thought of a sane Aleric Frost.

  Laurren shrugged and said, “I have no idea. Maybe after suffering from the distortion for ten years, when he was suddenly free of it inside the other realm he lost his memory?”

  “I think it’s something like that,” Hayden spoke again, recalling his own recent experience. “Towards the end, when it got really bad, I couldn’t remember who people were anymore. I forgot about all of you, all of my friends, and even who I was and what the void-prism was for. At first it was terribly painful, but towards the end I started to get used to it, like my brain was rebuilding itself around the effects. Maybe he did the same thing, only he had a lot longer to build a new life for himself…”

  Now most of the others were giving him concerned, pensive looks. Master Reede actually asked if he felt he was still suffering from the effect of being inside the other realm for so long, and Hayden shook his head.

  “No, I started to get better as soon as I came back through the schism, but it took me a couple minutes to orient myself. It took him even longer, which I didn’t really understand until I learned who he was, but maybe it’s because he was in the other realm for such a long time—so there was more to sort through to get back to normal; well, normal for him anyway.”

  “That seems as likely as anything,” Master Graus agreed slowly. “If he had to rebuild himself inside the other realm and didn’t have any of the people or places he knew to help him along, it makes sense that he would have started from scratch and given himself an entirely new identity.”

  “I asked him how long he’d been in that realm and he said for as long as he could remember. At the time I just thought that meant he was born there, but in hindsight I feel pretty stupid for missing it.”

  He rested his forehead in his hands and sighed.

  “I can’t believe I unleashed the Dark Prism on the world again, especially when he was doing just fine for himself in the other realm. Every time I try to do something good, something even worse happens in the aftermath.”

  That was, sadly, true. Last year he’d fought in a war to save his friends, which led to the schisms opening in the first place. Now he’d gone into the schism to close it and protect his friends at Mizzenwald, only to reincarnate the greatest magical threat the Nine Lands had seen in a century.

  I should stop trying to do good things before I get us all killed.

  No one really said anything in response to that, which only confirmed that they too were blaming him for bringing the Dark Prism back to life. He kept his face turned down and his eyes closed as Master Willow said, “I’ll inform the Council. We need to beef up our defenses around the school significantly in order to prevent him from reappearing here at will.”

  “We don’t know what sort of magic he has at his disposal since he acquired the Black Prism,” Sark pointed out. “Nothing we do may be able to keep him out if he’s determined to get into Mizzenwald.”

  “No, but we can still try,” Kilgore grumbled. “We haven’t been idle for the last five years and he has; we may yet have some new tricks up our sleeves that he isn’t prepared for.”

  Hayden listened to all of this with his eyes shut. Eventually he heard the flutter of papers around Asher’s office being blown off of their piles, and knew that the other Masters were disappearing to go do whatever task they had been assigned in fortifying the school. When he opened his eyes, only Master Asher remained.

  For a moment they stared at each other in silence. Hayden wished his mentor didn’t have such a sad, sympathetic look on his face, because it just made his chest hurt.

  “Cinder left with him,” he pointed out, mostly to break the silence.

  “He was always Aleric’s familiar. He will stick with him until the end.” Asher nodded.

  “I’ll miss him,” Hayden said glumly. “I’m sure Bonk will too.” Frowning, he added, “Does this mean he and Bonk will be enemies if they see each other again?”

  Asher looked unhappy when he said, “If you find yourself fighting your father, then yes, I expect so.”

  For some reason that made Hayden even sadder than the thought of loosing the Dark Prism on the world. Bonk and Cinder had been friends for as long as Hayden had been at Mizzenwald, and they would be forced to fight each other just because of a battle between their masters.

  Another moment of silence passed between them before Asher said, “So, what did you think of the Aleric Frost—Hunter, that you met in the other realm?”

  Hayden frowned and said, “I liked him—and I was jealous of him, though I’m not sure if it was because my mind was turning on me or if I would have felt that way no matter what. He was everything I’m not: tall, stupidly handsome, self-confident, naturally charming…”

  He sighed and continued. “I was glad for his help and I would have died without him, but I still felt like the loser little kid who was tagging along—even though it was my mission in the first place and he was nothing but nice to me.”

  “Aleric did have that effect on the people around him,” Asher said with a sympathetic smile. “It was a side-effect of being his friend, though I was probably just as cocksure as him so it didn’t bother me at the time. It took the magical community by surprise when the boy who seemed to have it all morphed into the Dark Prism.”

  “I’m still trying to reconcile the two different versions of him in my head,” Hayden admitted. “I can’t believe he was ready to slit my throat not two minutes after carrying me on his back through the schism to save my life. You’d think that the fact that I’m his son would have counted for something, especially after I shared my life story with him…”

  Master Asher shook his head.

  “Becoming the Dark Prism removed the last of the humanity from him; you don’t matter to him any more than I or anyone else at this point.”

  Very quietly, so softly that he wasn’t sure if his mentor even heard it, Hayden whispered, “He said any father would be proud to have me as a son.”

  Saying it out loud made his heart hurt. The man he had known as Hunter had listened to all of the struggles he’d overcome in the last five years w
ith great interest, and had told him that he was brave and worthy of admiration.

  Asher rested a gentle hand on his shoulder and said, “So he would have been, if he had been the father you deserved.” He sighed and retracted his hand.

  “The fact that he was willing to kill me without hesitation as soon as we came through the opening sort of suggests that he didn’t show up at my mother’s house five years ago to recruit me as an ally,” Hayden transitioned to a less painful subject.

  “I’m not sure we can say that just yet,” Asher countered mildly. “He may have wanted to assess your strengths and see if you would be an asset to him, or he might have just been curious about you. Either way, Aleric now prizes himself more than anything, and since he thought I was going to kill him when he came through the schism, he would have willingly sacrificed anyone to prevent that from happening, even if he was otherwise interested in keeping you around.”

  Hayden frowned thoughtfully.

  “How long do you think it’ll take before he’s ready to start terrorizing the world again?”

  His mentor shrugged and said, “I have no idea. A few weeks, at the earliest, while he recovers his strength and gets the lay of the land. He’ll also need time to refortify his defenses at the Frost estate—assuming he decides to return there. After that, who knows?”

  Hayden was old enough to remember the way the world was the last time the Dark Prism was strong. Mages were impossible to find, as they all attempted to lie low and avoid the attention of Aleric Frost. This was largely responsible for the boom in the monster population that the Nine Lands was still attempting to recover from. Even non-magic people lived in fear of their towns being the next to burn, their friends being murdered, their houses being ravaged by monsters they weren’t equipped to fight off.

  We can’t go back to that.

  Hayden didn’t really see a way to prevent it though, short of getting rid of his father once and for all, but unless they got phenomenally lucky and a schism opened up in the Dark Prism’s bedroom one night, they would have no choice but to start sending mages to fight him again.

  There’s no way I’ll be able to avoid that. Calahan will make sure that I get sent to battle my father to the death, no matter what.

  Which meant that Hayden was probably going to die soon. He was too emotionally exhausted to be fearful just now, though the idea did raise a new question for him.

  “What do you think the Council is going to do once Master Willow finishes telling them?”

  Asher made an ugly face and said, “Nothing pleasant, I’m sure.” Then he continued, “In the immediate future, they’ll spread word far and wide of your father’s return so that people aren’t caught by surprise and have a chance to prepare themselves. Most towns will probably implement curfews again and open up the old underground shelters to hide in if Aleric shows up.”

  “What I really meant was, what do you think they’ll do to me for being the one to bring him back into the Nine Lands? Do you think there’s any chance at all of them believing I didn’t do it on purpose?”

  The expression on his mentor’s face was not encouraging.

  “Some of them may believe you, but Cal won’t be one of them, and unfortunately this is a perfect way to discredit you and attempt to make you a villain now that he’s gotten you to close the schism for him. Remember, he’s acutely aware of the fact that you have more hero status than the entire Council combined, and that you could use that public support to get him ousted from his position.”

  Hayden remembered that conversation from before he went into the schism, and how he had threatened to get Calahan fired if he made it out alive. It seemed like a long time ago.

  “But now that I’m the boy who resurrected the Dark Prism, I’m going to lose all my adoring fans?” Hayden asked with a bite of sarcasm.

  “You may,” Asher answered seriously. “Which is no small thing, even though you scoff at it. It will take every friend and ally you have to get you out from under whatever horrible fate Calahan plans for you.”

  “What do you think he’ll try to do? Arrest me? Put me back in lead Binders?” The latter made Hayden more fearful than the former, as he had already had to wear the uncomfortable, heavy metal bracelets for two years and had no desire to repeat the experience.

  Master Asher looked troubled when he said, “I wish I could tell you how the man will act, but he’s become more and more of a loose cannon where you’re concerned. The pressure to deal with the sudden return of mage-kind’s worst enemy will either delay his plans to tear you down long enough to send the glorious hero to deal with his evil father, or else it will expedite them.”

  “Well that’s reassuring,” Hayden groaned, massaging his temples.

  “We need to get you to the infirmary so you can rest while there’s time. The Council we be on us soon enough, and you’ll need your strength.” Asher motioned him towards the door, unlocking it so that they could exit and leading him down the hall.

  Unfortunately, since all the Masters had abandoned their posts during the middle of class, students were milling around in the hallways or relaxing on the lawns, so plenty of people saw Hayden walk past with the Prism Master. A few people called out to him excitedly, congratulating him on his successful return and deducing that this meant the schism had been closed for good. Hayden ignored the chatter and pushed his way through the crowds to keep pace with Asher.

  He was just outside the door to the infirmary when he spotted Tess at the other end of the hall. At first her eyes widened at the sight of him, and then her features transformed as the shock of seeing him alive turned to joy. She took a tentative step towards him and smiled, but he shook his head and turned away, trudging behind Master Asher into the safety and quiet of the infirmary. He couldn’t stand to face Tess right now, to be the one who turned her joy to misery when she heard that her mother’s killer was back.

  He laid down in the same bed he typically used whenever he was holed up in the infirmary, while Asher tore around the room like time was running out, pulling elixirs from the cabinets seemingly at random and stacking them on Hayden’s bedside table.

  It’s sad that I spend enough time here to have a favorite bed.

  Asher threw a few bundles of rolled bandages at him and Hayden fumbled them and had to get out of bed and retrieve them from their various places on the floor.

  “Why the rush?” he asked grumpily, head still throbbing as he crawled back into bed and reclined against the pillows, trying not to feel bad for getting the white sheets all dirty.

  “Sorry, but there are things that need to be done quickly and not a lot of time in which to do them,” his mentor apologized without looking at him, still pulling a few last minute supplies for him and dumping them in Hayden’s lap. “I’ll leave these with you and be off. Try and get some rest.”

  “You’re going? I don’t even know how much of these elixirs I’m supposed to take. Remember, I’m failing the subject this year…”

  “Tess will help you—and Laraby, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Hayden frowned and said, “I don’t want to see them right now, especially Tess. How can I face her after what I’ve done?”

  Asher finally turned to look at him properly and said, “You don’t have the luxury of shutting out your friends until you feel better this time. Unless we can outsmart Calahan and his supporters, this might be the last chance you have to see your friends for a very long time.”

  Hayden gulped, and before he could think of an appropriate response to that gloomy prediction, Master Asher had swept from the room and closed the door behind him.

  Alone with his thoughts was not where Hayden wanted to be right now, so he dedicated himself to the task of getting cleaned up and bandaged. He filled a bucket with warm, soapy water and washed everything he could reach, peeling off the remnants of his clothing and depositing them directly into the trash can. Once he was finally as clean as he was going to get, he applied burn paste and aloe wherever it seem
ed necessary and wrapped the areas carefully with bandages, donning a clean robe he found in Mistress Razelle’s supply closet. He climbed into bed—one that wasn’t covered in grime, and was just about to close his eyes and try to relax when the door to the infirmary opened.

  There were Tess and Zane, as expected. They somehow managed to look hopeful and grim at the same time when they approached.

  “Well, I think it’s safe to say that no one was really sure you’d make it back in one piece,” Zane greeted him, approaching the bed and pulling up a spare chair. “But once again, you’ve proven everyone wrong and managed to be a total beast.”

  He was smiling at Hayden, but he obviously knew that something was wrong, because the smile was edged with worry.

  Tess was silent, watching him carefully as she sat down beside Zane and began sorting through the elixirs on the end table, metering out some of each for Hayden without asking any questions.

  “I’d hold off on the praise if I were you,” Hayden sighed, utterly weary.

  Zane pursed his lips and said, “Why is that? Tess said you looked like death warmed over, but everyone’s talking about how the schism is closed now so things can’t be all that bad…” he seemed to reconsider as a new idea struck him. “Hang on—you’re not still crazy, are you?”

  Hayden shook his head gently. “Not anymore, no.” He drank whatever Tess handed him, not even asking what each thing was for but simply trusting her. He began to feel better almost immediately—physically, at least.

  “Whoa,” Zane leaned back in surprise. “You mean you actually did lose your mind for a while?” When Hayden nodded his friend grimaced and said, “What was it like?”

  “Weird,” Hayden answered truthfully. “I couldn’t tell which thoughts were mine and which were the distortion, and eventually I forgot everything and everyone I knew. If not for Hu—the help I had, I would never have made it back.” It was still hard to think of Hunter as the Dark Prism.