by V. St. Clair
Hayden tried to back out of the room quietly and pass unnoticed, but of course his father chose that moment to wheel around and face him. His face was a mask of rage, and there was something demented and inhuman in his eyes, like a wild animal that had lost all control over itself. Hayden had never been so afraid of the man.
“You,” the Dark Prism said coldly, eyes scanning Hayden’s face. “Are you one of his puppets too? Come to check on me and see how I’m getting along?” he snarled hatefully, clenching and unclenching his fists with rage. Hayden was uncomfortably aware of the Black Prism perched in his father’s circlet, currently pointing upwards at the ceiling.
Not knowing why his father didn’t recognize him or who he thought Hayden was working for, he tread as carefully as possible.
“No, sir…I hate him just like you do,” he said in his most soothing tone, afraid to break eye contact or even blink. He felt like he was alone in the woods, facing down a chimaera, and that the slightest wrong move would spur it to action and be the end of him.
The Dark Prism leaned back slightly and gave him a scrutinizing look. Hayden prayed he had said the right thing, or his lifeless corpse would be the next thing his father kicked out of the way to make room for his pacing.
“He thinks I can’t do it, just because Ash beat me those first two rounds for the I.S.C.,” he snarled, drawing himself up so that he was the epitome of arrogance. “I was hardly even serious about things back then. This time I will win, and Ash’s project on light-bending through water is going to look ridiculous by comparison.” Now he looked almost smug as he confided in Hayden. “I’ve had Maralynn spying on him for weeks, though he thinks she’s just finally returning his interest in her. His work doesn’t hold a candle to mine, and maybe when I’ve left him in the dust, that unfeeling old man will acknowledge my value.”
Hayden knew enough about his father’s teenage years to form a picture of what was happening now. Aleric thought he was back at Mizzenwald, working on his mastery-level research project and competing with Asher for the glory of the next big discovery in prisms. Asher had told him about this time in their lives, when his best friend had been driven to cut-throat competitiveness by his overbearing father and, having greatly overestimated Asher’s progress on his own project, turned to imperfect prisms in an effort to out-shine him once and for all.
The ‘old man’ my father is seething over right now is my grandfather.
The realization left Hayden feeling depressed. Apparently the horrible man couldn’t find it in himself to bestow a shred of praise upon his only son, who was desperate to please him in any way he could and live up to the Frost family name. In a way, all of this was his fault. A young Aleric Frost had even been driven to recruit his best friend’s crush as a spy to report on how his research was progressing. He wasn’t even sure if Asher knew that part of the story, or what had happened to the mysterious Maralynn since then, as Asher certainly wasn’t married to her and Hayden had never even heard of her until this moment. Perhaps she had run away from Junir once she saw what Aleric was becoming, or maybe she had been caught up in the eventual fight between the two former best friends and was killed.
“I think I can safely say that your research will be far more impressive than Asher’s project on light-bending through water,” Hayden assured him gently, because whatever else his father had become, his discoveries and powers were certainly impressive.
“What would you know of it?” the Dark Prism sneered, before his expression became wary and he asked, “Who are you?”
Deciding that honesty was the best policy, Hayden replied, “I’m Hayden.”
He might as well have said, “I’m a sea cucumber,” for all the recognition he received in response. His father narrowed his eyes like he was trying to place the name and failing, grabbed the eyepiece of his circlet containing the Black Prism, and brought it down over his eye.
Hayden dove to the side without even stopping to think about it, and a wave of magic rippled past him, blasting a dent in the stone wall where it hit. Part of the carpet smoldered, though the embers burned out quickly and left only the smell of singed carpet behind.
Apparently my father has decided to simplify things by killing me instead of wasting more time on pesky questions.
Before the Dark Prism could attack again, a small dark-purple dragonling flew through one of the broken windows and hovered in the space between them.
About time Cinder got in here. What was he doing, playing lawn tennis with Bonk out front?
Cinder kept himself positioned directly between Hayden and his father, meeting the Dark Prism’s gaze for a long moment. He must have been silently trying to communicate something like, “Hey, don’t kill this kid yet, you still have to rip out his Source.”
Then the dragonling opened his mouth and let out a shriek. Hayden clapped his hands over his ears reflexively, because he had seen the dragonling’s cry rupture the eardrums of nearby sorcerers and break steel cages, but to his surprise, the scream was almost entirely silent. Removing his hands from his ears, Hayden wondered if the dragon had gone for a higher pitch than he could actually achieve, or if he had lost his voice, but Aleric crumpled to his knees and covered his ears as though in terrible pain, so it must have been doing something.
Hayden watched for a minute until Cinder stopped his weird, silent shriek, and then the Dark Prism stirred and pulled himself back to his feet, shaking his head a little to clear it. The scary rage was gone, and mostly the man just looked confused. He looked around the room at the destruction and then at his familiar.
“Again?” he asked casually, as though this sort of thing was perfectly normal and could happen to anyone.
Cinder made a noise that could have meant anything, but the Dark Prism nodded curtly and said, “Thank you.” Then he turned to Hayden. “What do you want?”
Hayden wasn’t sure whether his father remembered anything that had happened since Hayden came into the library, but he thought not.
“I only came to tell you that dinner was ready, but I’m not hungry, so I’m just going to go to bed,” he lied on the spot, praying that the servants had indeed prepared dinner in case their insane host decided he was feeling peckish.
His father said nothing, though his eyes never left Hayden’s face as he retreated from the room with as much composure as he could muster. He could feel the Dark Prism’s eyes following him until he had turned into his bedroom and shut and locked the door behind him. Bonk was already waiting for him.
“Some help you were,” Hayden grumbled, his hands shaking now that he was relatively safe and could afford to emote properly.
Bonk pulled a face and held up one Binder-wrapped leg as though to say, “What did you want me to do about it?”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Hayden sighed, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. “I’m not mad at you, just kind of on edge. Actually, I wanted to tell you you’re the best familiar in the entire world; I saw you hand off that letter to Slasher. I knew you’d find a way to get in touch with him if you put your mind to it.”
Bonk made a noncommittal gesture, as though he didn’t really want to take credit, which was odd since Bonk normally loved being praised.
“Anyway,” Hayden continued, “I don’t think either of us should go out in the hallway, no matter how hungry we get. My father completely lost it in there, and if Cinder hadn’t shown up when he did and cured him, I’d be a smoldering pile of ash on the carpet right now.” He shuddered at the near miss.
Bonk didn’t argue with him, though he didn’t look overjoyed at being stuck inside the bedroom this early in the evening. Hayden supposed his familiar could always leave via the window and hunt around the yard for a vole to eat if he got desperate, but Hayden would be stuck inside until breakfast.
He had no idea how long he spent in his room that evening, watching the sunset through his window and listening for sounds of further devastation from the library. Fortunately, whatever magic Cinder
had used to snap his master out of his insanity, it seemed to be holding, because Hayden didn’t hear any unusual sounds in the hours that followed.
Harder to ignore were the pangs of hunger assailing his stomach as the evening progressed. He made a mental note to hurry up and eat dinner before going to investigate any more dangerous situations involving his father in the future.
Also, next time bring a weapon. It would have been embarrassing to have Bonk bring him a mastery-level violet prism to defend himself with, only to leave it in his pillowcase when he actually needed it to fight.
And so dies Hayden Frost, an idiot until the end. He could imagine the epitaph on his tombstone.
After changing into his sleep pants and preparing to turn off the gas lamps, Hayden had relaxed to the point that the knock on the door nearly sent his heart flying into his throat.
Now?! he thought wildly, racing to his pillowcase and withdrawing the violet prism. I thought he was safe again—or as safe as he can ever really be! He’s been quiet for hours!
This was it, the moment he had been dreading. His father was on the other side of that door, waiting to tell him that he had worked the kinks out of his spells a little ahead of schedule and was ready to drain the life from him now. Hayden would never let that happen, but one way or another, he knew he was going to die tonight…
Another knock.
Now Hayden actually stopped to think, still grasping the edges of the violet prism with sweaty fingers.
Wait a minute, that knock was way too quiet and timid to be my father, he realized, a wave of relief flooding him as Hayden remembered that there were nine other people in this house as well. Besides, he added further, Father would never knock twice.
Despite his returning sensibilities, Hayden still maintained his grip on the violet prism, though he held it with his left hand and opened the door with his right, so that he was leaned casually against the frame and had his left hand and the prism concealed behind the open door.
“Holy arcana, Hattie, you about scared me to death!” he greeted her, a little annoyed by the fact that he had to worry about dying twice in one afternoon.
Hattie looked so nervous that Hayden began to wonder if the Dark Prism was actually hiding just out of sight in the hallway, waiting for her to lure him outside so he could kill them both. That was stupid, of course, since the room wasn’t barred against him in any way, and even if it was, his father was certainly capable of breaking down a simple door, locked or not. Hayden wasn’t going to waste any of his violet prism on putting more extensive protections around the door, as his father would know how to break through them anyway.
“I’m sorry to bother you, sir,” Hattie’s voice was barely a whisper, and Hayden felt bad for the poor girl. It wasn’t easy for Hayden, living under the threat of death in his father’s—his—house, but it had to be even harder for her and the others, knowing they weren’t magically-inclined and couldn’t do much of anything to fight back or escape.
“It’s fine, sorry, I’m just a little jumpy tonight,” Hayden apologized, forcing a smile and trying to put her at ease.
It worked, sort of, or at least she returned his smile briefly before saying, “He wants to see you in the library.”
No need to ask who ‘he’ was. Hayden’s father was the only one around here that none of the others would call by name. They either weren’t sure whether to use Aleric, the Dark Prism, or whatever other pompous agnomen the man had dreamed up for himself. Or maybe they were just afraid of saying his name, as though he were a monster who could be summoned by name alone.
Hayden focused on the more important part of the message.
“He sent you to get me? Why?” he asked in alarm, trying to think of any reason for his father to want to see him that didn’t end badly. He was drawing a blank.
“I don’t think he wanted to come get you himself,” Hattie explained, taking the wrong meaning from his question. “He doesn’t like doing servant work, like looking for people, when he can have them brought to him and—”
“No, that isn’t what I meant,” Hayden interrupted. “I know he’s too arrogant to do something like going to find someone he wants to see or knocking on a door; what I meant was, do you know why he wants to see me?”
Maybe he’s embarrassed that I saw him lose all control of himself and wants to threaten me until he feels like he’s reasserted dominance.
That didn’t seem to fit his persona though. If he felt he’d been humiliated irreparably, he would just kill Hayden and have done with it. Otherwise he probably didn’t even care that Hayden had seen such a display of weakness, since Hayden wasn’t even really a person to him.
“I’m sorry, sir, he didn’t say.”
“Of course. Thanks for telling me,” Hayden waved her away with his empty hand. “You can go on back to whatever else you were doing; I’ll go see him in just a second.”
He shut the door as she turned away and stuffed the violet prism back into his pillowcase, withdrawing it and then returning it twice more before deciding to leave it behind. If he walked into the library with it, his father would either see it or sense it on him and it would be taken away from him. Hayden was betting that if the Dark Prism was really in a killing mood right now, he would have come barging into Hayden’s bedroom himself, rather than sending someone to calmly retrieve him.
For the second time that day, Hayden found himself walking into the library, and he was no gladder to see it this time around. The doors were closed, so he knocked before entering to announce his presence.
When he opened and shut the doors behind him, he was a little surprised by how dark the room was. Even at night, the library usually had the gas lamps lit, until Aleric was ready to call it a night on his research. Currently, the only light in the entire room was coming from a fireplace on the far side, where Hayden sometimes sat reading books if he was trying to get as far away from his father as possible when they were both in the room.
The firelight threw eerie shadows around the space, and Hayden shivered a little and stepped further into the room, telling himself that it hadn’t actually gotten colder since he was last here, that it was just a side-effect of his fear.
Aleric Frost was sitting on a hand-woven oval-shaped rug on the floor, just in front of the grate. He was staring thoughtfully into the flames, feeding the fire scraps of something Hayden couldn’t immediately identify. Not sure if the man had even heard him enter the room, Hayden approached warily and brought himself into his father’s line of sight.
“You wanted to see me?” he asked softly, because something about the entire situation seemed to warrant a quiet, almost reverent tone.
Without turning his eyes from the flames, the Dark Prism said, “Sit down,” though there was no malice in his voice, and for once it sounded more like a request than a command.
Curious despite his underlying worry, Hayden sat.
He knew he was inside his father’s reach if the man decided to go nuts and start physically attacking him again, but it would be painfully obvious that he was scared and trying to avoid punishment if he backed up any further, and sitting in one of the chairs while his father was on the floor was out of the question.
For a moment Hayden studied the Dark Prism at close range, who in turn studied the fire, still steadily feeding scraps into the flames. From up close, Hayden realized that the scraps of paper were actually pages from books. There were half a dozen empty bindings scattered around them, where his father had clearly already pulled out each page and fed it to the flames, like the tome he was now calmly ripping apart, page by page. The slow tearing was loud in the otherwise quiet space, and it became like nails on a chalkboard to Hayden after a few minutes.
He wanted to snatch the book out of his father’s hand and tell the man that books were expensive and that there was no good reason to disrespect a vessel of knowledge, but somehow he didn’t think the interference would be appreciated.
Instead he asked, “What book is tha
t?” into the silence.
It took his father a moment to answer, but for once Hayden didn’t think he was being ignored or manipulated. Then again, wasn’t that the mark of a master manipulator, to make the victim not even think they were being messed with? But his father really did look tired and somehow more human and approachable than usual.
“I neither know nor care,” the Dark Prism answered calmly, still tearing off one sheet at a time and feeding it into the flames.
Okay…Hayden was kind of at a loss for what to say next. After all, his father had been the one to summon him, not the other way around. Yet here he was, not even telling Hayden why he had called him here.
Maybe he wants to show me how truly horrifying he can be to innocent books? Hayden suppressed a snort.
“You once told me that Asher was the only father you’d ever known,” Aleric said at last, apropos of nothing.
The completely unexpected topic nearly stunned Hayden stupid. He had no idea why the Dark Prism was bringing this up right now, and had to rack his brain to even remember when he had ever made such a comment to the man sitting beside him. Not here, certainly.
When we were inside the schism, he realized at last, and immediately became more alert.
“Yes…” Hayden began invitingly. When no other comment was forthcoming, he added, “Do you remember much of that conversation?” At the moment, I mean. His father’s memories were more fluid and fleeting than anything.
“Some of it,” the man answered at last, still staring at the fire without blinking. Hayden wondered how he managed that without his eyes watering, and wondered whether he’d be temporarily blinded in the darkness of the library when he finally looked away. Somehow he just couldn’t imagine the legendary Dark Prism stumbling around in the dark while his eyes adjusted to ambient lighting.