by V. St. Clair
“What?” he stopped walking and addressed Oliver, who still looked uncomfortable in his Mastery robes. He didn’t move with the same easy, self-assured gait as the rest of them, rather, he seemed like a boy who had stolen his parent’s robes to play dress-up and was hoping not to get caught.
Go easy on the kid, he reminded himself, inhaling sharply and trying to release his anger as he exhaled. You were that age once, and also in over your head.
Yes, his inner voice added, but when I was his age I was trying to come up with a way to destroy my former best friend, who was murdering every decent human being we knew. All he has to do is teach Powders and let us heavy-weights plot out revenge on Aleric.
“Sorry to bother you,” Oliver interrupted his internal debate, ignoring a passing group of students on their way towards the dining hall. “I was wondering if you’ve seen Slasher recently.”
Caught off-guard by the unexpected question, Asher’s anger fell away for a moment, replaced by genuine interest.
“No, why? Is he missing?”
That would be a terrible blow, as Slasher was the only magically-inclined dragon they had to assist them right now. Asher had sent Bonk back to Hayden with a violet prism so that the boy wouldn’t be completely alone and defenseless, and Cinder had rejoined Aleric at the end of last year.
“I don’t know,” Oliver frowned, trying to act less worried than he actually was. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning, not even at meals. I’ve searched the grounds and Torin’s cabin, but no one has seen him. I’m beginning to worry that something has happened to him.”
“Not a lot can bring down a dragonling,” Asher pointed out, trying to imagine where Slasher would be if he wasn’t injured or in some other way physically prevented from returning to Oliver. “He could be in the Forest of Illusions, I suppose.”
Surprised, Oliver asked, “Why would he be there? I thought we’d all gotten enough of the place after the sorcerers attacked two years ago.”
Asher could almost feel the golden spike being hammered into his chest all over again, the unpleasant sensation of his Source power trickling out of him through the spigot while he slumped in a semi-comatose state for months on end. He blinked the memory away and refocused.
“Magical creatures are at their most powerful in the Forest. Perhaps Slasher wanted to return there to boost his power, or to speak with the other animals who live there, or for some other reason I can only guess at.” He shrugged.
Oliver looked obscurely relieved.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” he sounded reassured. “You really think he’s there?” The look on the young Master’s face made Asher’s throat constrict with suppressed emotion. The fear only partly-concealed behind a veneer of frantic hope, it was a look Asher had seen on Hayden’s face during his most desperate times, when he was counting on his mentor to reassure him that everything would somehow be alright.
Why do these children keep relying on me to help them? Haven’t they realized that I’m more lost than anyone?
No, of course not. They took his casual arrogance for self-assurance, his eccentricity for brilliance, his apparent apathy for the regard of others as humility. After the entire continent had turned against him for being the best friend of a monster, he had gone out of his way to throw it in their faces, tossing social graces to the wind and welcoming whatever punishment came with that decision. Strangely, the expected punishment had never come. Instead he had gained an ethereal quality that only made people respect and admire him more—a consequence he had never anticipated and was now stuck with.
He’d kept up the charade long enough it had almost become true, so he forced a lopsided smile and said, “There’s every chance he’s in the Forest, using his own methods to try and help us. Who knows, maybe Slasher will come back with the answer to our prayers, and we’ll be able to break down Aleric’s wall and storm his house at last.”
Wouldn’t that be nice.
Oliver nodded, allowing himself to be persuaded. Asher felt a stab of guilt for giving young Trout false hope, but truly, he had no idea where Slasher was or whether he was in danger. For all he knew, the dragonling was in the Forest of Illusions trying to beef up his magical repository, so it’s not like he was lying.
Sure. I’ll keep that in mind when Oliver’s sobbing over Slasher’s corpse once we eventually find him.
Mentally cursing himself for always going to the darkest explanation, Asher walked outside, deciding on a whim that fresh air was what he needed right now. He was only a little surprised when Oliver followed him, but neither of them made an attempt at further conversation until they were standing near the obstacle courses that familiars trained on.
Aleric and I convinced Jonah to crawl through that tube during fourth year, he remembered while staring at it. He got stuck halfway through it and the masters had to cut it open to get him out of there.
He and Aleric had to collect obsidian needles from the thorn prairies as punishment. They’d both come back with so many scratches and cuts that it had taken weeks to heal, even with the aid of elixirs.
“I don’t think Hayden’s dead,” Oliver said at last, apropos of nothing as far as Asher could tell.
Asher glanced sideways at his newest colleague only to find him staring out into the distance, as though hoping to see Slasher approaching at any moment.
“Because you think Aleric has been cured of his distortion and decided to become a loving father all of a sudden?” he returned dryly. He could almost believe it, if not for that time he threatened to slit Hayden’s throat, or the time he murdered everyone in the Crystal Tower to kidnap the boy, or the fact that he was holding his son captive at his estate even now…
“No, I mean because he doesn’t really have a reason to kill him,” Oliver continued vaguely.
“Yes, and Aleric has always needed an excuse to commit murder…” Asher countered with even more sarcasm, letting the bitterness wash over him once more.
“Well, no, but he went out of his way to raid the Crystal Tower to get Hayden. As far as we know, he hasn’t killed anyone since then—he hasn’t even really left his estate, unless he’s found a new way to sneak around without us finding out. Why go to all the effort of collecting him if he just meant to kill him?”
Asher had had the same internal argument for weeks, though it had rapidly become circular with no further information incoming. It was true that they hadn’t had any reported sightings of Aleric recently, not since he abducted Hayden, really. That either meant he was being incredibly stealthy, or that he hadn’t left the estate. If he was staying home, why? Everything about Aleric’s behavior had been different this time around, like there was some critical piece of information that the man had and no one else possessed. As soon as he returned to the realm, everyone waited for him to begin killing, but instead he began healing people. Then came the attack on the Crystal Tower, which they were sure heralded the start of his new murdering spree, but everything had been quiet since then. Now Asher wondered if Aleric had only committed those murders necessary to get to Hayden.
But what does he want with his son?
Asher had been trying to unravel the answer to that question since the day he met Hayden. Nothing about the man was making sense anymore, and it was driving him crazy. Everyone expected him to have some hidden insight because he used to be friends with the monster they were trying to kill, and no matter how many times Asher tried to explain the truth, it never did any good.
I was friends with Aleric. I barely knew the Dark Prism.
Indeed, his only real interaction with the Dark Prism had been during their memorable battle, when public pressure had finally gotten so great that Asher had been convinced to throw away his life in a last desperate attempt to stop his old friend. He had known he would lose that fight before it even started. The only surprise had been that he had been left alive at the end of it; perhaps some shadow of the friend he once knew had some reservation about killing him.
I doubt I can count on that mercy a second time.
“Asher?” Oliver asked hesitantly, and Asher just remembered that he hadn’t answered his colleague’s last statement.
“Maybe he hasn’t killed him, but he can’t have anything good in mind for Hayden,” he allowed. “I wish I knew why he’s hiding inside his estate; it isn’t like him at all.”
“Maybe Hayden’s already found a way to stop him, and he’s just trying to figure out how to get through the barriers around the place like we are?”
Now there was a wild thought. Everything would be so much simpler if Hayden had disposed of his father for the world and was just waiting for someone to help him break down the barriers around the place.
It would explain why Aleric hasn’t been seen in weeks.
“A nice thought,” Asher sighed, “but I doubt we can count on it.”
“Why not?” Oliver pressed on boldly. “They each have a dragon, and they each have a prism. You’ve said yourself that they’re about evenly matched…Hayden’s more powerful but the Dark Prism is faster, and so forth. Why couldn’t Hayden win?”
Because speed is more important than raw power, except in very rare circumstances, and Aleric has forgotten more spells than Hayden will ever learn.
“Hayden has one prism, which will be consumed as he uses it; Aleric has the Black Prism, which will never be consumed, and gives him a host of spells Hayden has never encountered before. Besides, Aleric would be a fool to leave Bonk free, and Aleric is no fool. He has always held dragonlings in the highest esteem, and would never underestimate the threat that Bonk could pose to him.”
Oliver frowned and said, “I’m going back inside. The others are having a meeting later tonight. Kilgore told me to tell you that you should stop throwing a tantrum and join us this time.” He said the last part nervously, and Asher couldn’t blame him, though he could tell the words were Elias’s.
“I’ll think about it,” he replied noncommittally, relieved when Oliver walked back towards the castle and left him alone.
For a few minutes he stood there and stared across the grounds, the wind blowing through his hair. The weather was mild—as always—and he was struck with the desire to make it storm and thunder, so that the outside would match his feelings. He wanted it to rain down hail and lightning, scorching everything in sight until he felt better. But he had promised Willow after the last horrendous storm he’d caused that he would keep his weather magic better contained in future. Apparently they didn’t have time to go around fixing all the damage he caused to the grounds—though since they weren’t making any progress on the problem of taking down Aleric Frost, he wasn’t sure why they didn’t have time for other menial work.
It took a moment for his brain to process what his eyes were seeing while lost in thought: something in the distance was flying towards the grounds, too small to make out properly from here.
Someone’s familiar, no doubt.
Maybe a hawk or a falcon…perhaps a raven, but probably not—
“Is that Slasher?” Asher asked out loud, despite being alone. Well, there were a few students sitting in the main courtyard, working on homework, but for the most part people kept indoors these days.
As if it would make a difference whether one was inside the school or outside if Aleric showed up with murder on his mind.
He watched the small flying shape in the distance grow steadily closer until he was able to confirm that it was indeed Slasher, returning to the school at last.
Huh, Asher thought with mild satisfaction, maybe he was in the Forest of Illusions after all.
It would be nice to be right about something for a change.
Asher expected Slasher to fly past him and into the castle in search of Oliver, so he was truly perplexed when the dragonling soared towards him and hovered at eye-level, extending a rolled sheet of paper that was clutched in his talons.
“For me?” Asher raised an interested eyebrow, reaching out to accept the paper. “Who in the world would use you to deliver a message to me?”
His lips parted in surprise when he saw his own name scrawled across the outside of the letter in very familiar handwriting. In fact, he had just seen similar penmanship while pacing his office, studying his worktable.
“Hayden,” he said softly, staring at the outside of the letter for a full minute, even as Slasher continued his flight towards the school.
How in the world had Hayden managed to get a note to him using Slasher? Come to think of it, how had Slasher even known to go to the Frost estate in the first place?
Only the first of a dozen questions I’ll need to think about after I read this…
Standing in the falling light of sunset, Asher opened the letter and began reading.
Asher,
Hey, it’s Hayden. Well, you probably knew that when you saw the handwriting, but I don’t write a lot of letters so I never know how to start them. Anyway, first off, I’m still alive, so if you’ve been worrying about that then you can relax a bit. Well, not really, but I’ll explain in a minute.
I know what my father wanted from me when I was ten; he used the Black Prism to unlock that memory. He came to my mother’s house because he was experimenting with removing someone’s Source. He wanted to steal mine and merge it with his to boost his power; he figured since we’re related that our Sources would be more compatible and it would be easier than trying with a stranger.
Asher looked away from the letter as the impact of those words hit him.
Holy arcana…he thought dumbly, dazzled by the audacity and the simplicity of it all. Why didn’t I think of that sooner?
The truth was, not even he had dreamed that Aleric was arrogant enough and brilliant enough to attempt such outrageous magic. To remove someone’s Source—the very essence of life itself…it shouldn’t even be possible. It was utter madness.
But Aleric has long since proven himself a madman.
Turning back to the letter, he continued reading.
You’re not going to believe what happened when he tried to take my Source; I’m not even sure I believe it. He says that I must have found an inverse alignment in the Black Prism and used it to block him at the last second. I don’t remember doing it on purpose, but I do remember looking at the prism and feeling the horrible tugging feeling stop right before it got pulled through my hands. But that’s what gave me the light-sickness—I did it to myself by using the Black Prism on accident. Both of us casting through it at the same time was apparently too much for it to handle, and it blew up my house and knocked my father into a schism. I don’t know what to think about having used the Black Prism….Does that mean I’m distorted too? Should I even be using magic, or am I okay since it’s been years and nothing bad has happened? I don’t feel evil or messed up, for whatever that’s worth…but my father probably didn’t either until it was too late.
Anyway, that’s not all. The reason he took me from the Crystal Tower is because I didn’t just stop him from taking my Source when I was ten; I accidentally broke off part of his and merged it with my own. That’s why my Source seems stupidly powerful, even with three-inch correctors on each wrist.
“Great and holy gods…” Asher said out loud, eyes wide as everything began to make sense.
It had always bothered him that no one had known Hayden possessed magic until his mother’s house exploded, because with the largest Source the Nine Lands had ever seen, it would have been impossible to keep magic from streaming out of him at random. Magic would have burst from his hands as he walked down the street when his powers were still forming and he was too young to control them.
Except he didn’t have an unnaturally-large Source until the day he encountered Aleric, and he managed to warp his own Foci almost beyond repair in the same moment that he gained all that power.
He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry as wave upon wave of understanding crashed over him. Aleric wasn’t leaving the Frost estate to continue his reign of terror because he wa
sn’t ready to face hordes of skilled mages yet. He was missing a sizable chunk of his Source power, and until he got it back, he was vulnerable. He would bend all of his considerable intellect towards figuring out what went wrong with his spells and preparing for another attempt…
“That’s why he was healing them!” Asher actually smacked himself in the forehead with the palm of one hand at this. Of course it hadn’t been out of the goodness of his heart, or even in the pursuit of discovery. He wouldn’t be able to pull his Source back from Hayden through warped Foci; he needed Hayden’s channels to be straightened perfectly, or it would be a worse disaster than the first time around. So he was practicing on other mages that he tracked down with damaged Foci to make sure he had the spell right.
Asher looked back to the letter.
He’s going to try again—to take back the part of his Source I have, as well as the entirety of mine. I think he’s only a few weeks away, maybe less—it’s hard to tell since I don’t get very close to his notes that often. But don’t worry, I won’t let him make himself powerful again. I’m either going to bring him down or die trying, and then at least he’ll be weaker than last time when you all fight him. That’s partly why I wrote this to you instead of Zane or Tess—they won’t understand that I have to keep him from reclaiming his Source at all costs.
But you understand, don’t you? You know the price of failure better than anyone, and you know how much I don’t want to become like my father (by the way, don’t ever call him that where he can hear or he’ll choke the living daylights out of you). You probably already know this, but I’ve always thought of you as the father I never had. You didn’t have to go out of your way to be nice to me five years ago, or to keep an eye out for me after what your best friend turned into, so thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I’m not sure I’ve ever said that to you in person, which was stupid, so this letter is the best I can do.