As he drifted off, his final thoughts were of his home and family back on the Other Side. They were probably asleep now, comfortable in their beds, surrounded by... not trees.
He missed them.
Chapter 8
Though the torches flamed on both walls of the corridor, it was still dark. He walked forward slowly, cautiously. It was there, he knew. He could feel it: the coldness, the emptiness. He could feel something else too. Something he had never felt before. It was an odd feeling: unsettling. Was it fear?
This was his house. He should not fear anybody here. He should not fear anybody anywhere. But he was afraid, and yet he still walked towards it.
“Do you know whose house you are in?”
Silence.
“Do you know who I am?”
More silence.
Of course it knew whose house it was in; of course it knew who he was. You did not just accidently walk into his house. You did not even intentionally walk into his house, not unless you were invited.
And he had not invited it.
But he had been expecting it. He knew it was coming, knew for a long time. He had waited for it. Waited for the day he could kill it. It deserved to die for what it had done.
But things changed and he no longer waited for it, no longer wished to face it, to battle it. And now it was here and it had chosen its time well. He could still fight it. But he was an old man now, an old man who wanted to live, who had reason to live.
He stepped out of the corridor and into a hall, through another corridor, through a room and another hall. His steps quickened and his thoughts focused. If he could not live, he would ensure it would not either, whatever ‘it’ was.
He raised his hand and stretched his fingers out. “Sensavil,” he said.
No.
That could not be right.
“Sensavil,” he said again.
No...
It wasn’t possible.
He knew what it was now, he had heard the stories... but they were only stories. Stories mostly told to terrify children, stories his mother had told him not to scare but to intrigue.
It was behind that door, waiting for him. He hesitated briefly before he pushed it open. He had never feared anyone before and he would not today, not on this day.
He stepped into the hall. The torches flamed brightly and yet colourlessly as the room filled with dark shadows. And in the shadows, it was there.
They stared at each other, for how long he knew not for time seemed to have stopped. And then it moved so suddenly, so quickly out of the shadows and towards him. He raised his hand instinctively...
Tom opened his eyes. His heart pounded and sweat dripped down his forehead. There was a door and a window in front of him and sunlight poured in through both. The room had two other doors and currently, he had no idea where any of them led to. He wondered if he should be worried about waking up in a foreign room.
And then he remembered.
He was in the tree house at the School of Merlin in Atlantis. That part hadn’t been a dream. Today was to be his first day of classes. Tom looked at his wristwatch. His eyes widened. He was going to be late if he didn’t hurry.
He sat up quickly and moved to get out of bed. That was when he felt the pain. It shot up through his spine towards the brain. His head felt like it was going to splinter. Tom lost his footing and fell to the ground. He lay on the floor, still, afraid to move in case it hurt.
It was much later that he tentatively felt his back. There was nothing there. No bumps, no bruises, nothing. Why did it hurt so much?
***
Tom trudged up the hill with his bag slung over his shoulder. His back still hurt but his head didn’t feel like it was about to explode anymore. That was good news. He had tried running to make up for lost time, but gave up after a short sprint. Running wasn’t his thing. And it hurt too much.
He was really late when he reached the door that led into his first class. But he didn’t care anymore; he was too tired. As his hand rested on the door, he was tempted to curl up on the floor and sleep. Reluctantly, he pushed it open and walked in.
The classroom was full. Every eye turned to look at him. Tom suddenly felt very self-conscious. He wasn’t used to this, being the centre of attention. A woman with brown bushy hair and a pointed nose sat to his left. She did not seem very pleased to see him.
“And you are?”
“Thomas Skinner,” he mumbled. “Sorry I’m late.”
The classroom came alive with whispers. “That’s him”, “Thomas Skinner”, “The Wanderer” and “Other Side” were some of the words he managed to make out. He even thought he heard someone say “breeder”.
“Tell me, Thomas,” the teacher said as she stared at him pointedly, “did you attend school on the Other Side?”
“Yes Miss.”
“Madam Stewart,” she corrected, before adding, “and did you have to be in class by a certain time?”
“Yes, Madam Stewart.”
“Ah, interesting.” She paused and Tom wondered if it really was. “So, Mr Skinner, why is it you feel you can walk into my classroom not when you are supposed to but when it pleases you?”
“I-” Tom paused. Should he tell the truth? What was the truth? That he was late because his back hurt so much he couldn’t move? And why did his back hurt? Was that normal? Was that another thing Cindy had forgotten to mention? “I overslept.” He decided to go with a version of the truth.
“Overslept?” She seemed confused before her eyes widened. “You OVERSLEPT?” she roared.
He should have lied. “It won’t happen again,” Tom said hurriedly.
Madam Stewart seemed to calm down rather quickly as she looked away from him and stared down at her lap. “You are right,” she said quietly and she brushed her lap down, “it will not.”
Tom stood at the door, unsure of what to do. Was it over? Was she done with him? Could he go now? He spotted an empty chair at the back of the classroom, near Saafir, the boy he met last night. He glanced at the teacher. She was still staring down at her lap. He took a step toward the empty chair.
“Ahem.”
It was Madam Stewart who had cleared her throat and she wasn’t looking down at her lap anymore.
“Your clothes,” she said and when he stared at her blankly, added, “this school you attended on the Other Side, did they not have uniforms?”
Tom’s heart sank as he noticed what the other children were wearing. Every person wore grey trousers or skirts and white shirts. Some had green jumpers on, and all had green cloaks draped around their shoulders.
His first day in school wasn’t going quite according to plan.
“I’m sorry, Madam Stewart.”
“Find a seat, Mr Skinner,” she said coldly.
With his head down, Tom took quick steps towards the back. He sat down in the empty chair next to Saafir and sank in, trying to make himself as small as possible. It didn’t help much. Everyone still stared at him.
“Eyes on books,” Madam Stewart said.
She didn’t strike Tom as the type to ignore, and it seemed everyone else thought likewise as all eyes turned away from him and to the books in front of them – large, dusty-looking books that he hadn’t seen in his wooden chest. Magical Development: Stage One, the cover read.
“The book,” he pointed, “where do I get one from?”
Saafir shook his head as he stared at him. “She’s going to hate you forever,” he said. “You’re supposed to bring your own.”
This was turning out to be a horrible day. He was tired. His back still hurt and now his head throbbed. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He took long, slow, deep breaths in and out and rubbed his forehead gently. He needed a moment before he drew more of Madam Stewart’s ire upon himself.
The moment was over. He opened his eyes and raised his hand. They were all staring at him again, the teacher included.
Chapter 9
It could have been worse, Tom
reasoned as he sat with quill in hand. She could have thrown him out. But she didn’t. And Saafir shared his book. They did hand movements first, to warm up, to feel the magic flow through them. He didn’t feel anything flow through his.
Next, a curled up worm-like creature with sharp spikes for fur was placed in front of everyone. They were to uncurl it. Touching wasn’t an option. Not unless you wanted a literal bloody mess in your hands.
Saafir held his fingers out. The thing uncurled. That didn’t work for Tom. But he did have another idea. He could already move things without touching, so he raised the creature into the air and brought it down roughly.
Madam Stewart spotted him doing that. She wasn’t pleased. A brute, she had called him.
Tom stretched his fingers as he put the quill down. Writing “I will be on time to all my classes, dressed appropriately and with the correct book or books” a hundred times was a lot harder than it sounded. She had kept him back after class to write lines. Detention here wasn’t so different from the Other Side.
“I’ve finished.”
He placed the book on her desk. Madam Stewart had remained seated the whole time, writing. And even now, as he stood over her, she did not look at him. She placed a hand over his book.
“You have written the sentence one hundred and three times,” she said curtly.
He wasn’t surprised. It hadn’t been easy keeping track. He was just glad he had written more, not less. But she seemed annoyed still, so he said, “Sorry.”
Madam Stewart sighed. “Hand out.”
“Hand out?”
She looked up. “Yes,” she said slowly, “hold your hand out.”
Tom raised his hand cautiously. He hadn’t noticed the cane resting on her desk before. But he did now as it rose up by itself. What was that for? She was going to hit him?
***
The main hall was almost empty of students, but there were still many tables laden with food. Tom had lost his appetite, but he sat down at one anyway. Madam Stewart had hit him. She had done it so casually, like it was normal. Maybe it was...
He wondered what other surprises lay in wait. He felt like he deserved this. He did agree to leave his family for a whole year to go to a wizard school with a stranger without asking any questions. Actually, he had asked questions. Cindy just never answered them.
Having only taken a few bites, Tom decided he wasn’t hungry. He got up and headed for his next class. It wouldn’t do to be late again.
***
There were only two people in the room as he walked in. They were identical twins and they sat at the front of the class and watched him not too subtly as he walked past. He remembered them from Madam Stewart’s class. They had sat at the front there too.
They were both still staring at him as he sat down and one shook her head disapprovingly before they both turned away. That didn’t make much sense to Tom. What was she annoyed about? He hadn’t done anything to her... had he?
The class began to fill up with children and noise. One by one, the chairs were taken, except for the one closest to him. Saafir was the last in. He gave Tom a nod as he sat next to him.
Master Hickey was their history teacher and he was much nicer than Madam Stewart. He didn’t mention Tom’s uniform, or lack of it. And there was no magic involved. The class finished without incident.
***
Tom dragged his bag along the ground as he walked down the hill, absentmindedly giving it the occasional kick. His first day of wizard classes was over. And he was glad for it. Wizard school – it wasn’t nearly as cool as it sounded.
He wasn’t very good at magic. One of his teachers caned him – actually caned him. And it hurt. He found it hard to believe they did that here. He wondered if he should tell someone. Who could he tell?
There was something odd about some of the other children. The way they stared at him, it was more than just curiosity. And on more than one occasion he had heard the word breeder whispered as he passed. He knew what the word meant, but why would they call him that? He hadn’t bred with anyone...
And then there was that thing about him being the first ever wizard with Wanderer parents. He had had more time to think about it and he decided he didn’t like it much. It was weird. He was a freak, wasn’t he? They all stared at him like he was one.
Tom rubbed his back. It was still a little sore from the morning. That was another thing he had to ask someone about. It couldn’t be normal, could it?
No.
So far, wizard school and everything about it was very much overrated.
Tom wasn’t very far from the tree house when he stopped walking. He should have noticed them earlier, the three boys that leaned against the trunk of the tree, but his mind had been elsewhere.
They began to walk towards him. Tom recognised them. He shared all his classes with them. The large one on the left was Andre, the skinny tall one on the right was Malcolm and the one in the middle, with his white hair and black eyes, was Fredrick. They were also the ones that had called him breeder a few times.
“Breeder,” Fredrick said.
And there it was again, that word, breeder. “What do you want, Fredrick?”
“Did he just call me Fredrick?”
That was his name. He had heard him being called that in class. Though Fredrick did seem genuinely shocked.
“You dare use my name, Breeder?” Fredrick said.
Tom dropped the bag from his hand and took a step back. He knew what was going to happen. He had never really been in a fight before, and it didn’t help that there were three of them. But he didn’t have a choice.
He couldn’t run away. They would catch him. And he didn’t want to either. He would rather take a beating. If only he could manage a few good swings at Fredrick’s face before they got him – that would be enough.
As he prepared for his first ever fight, two unexpected things happened. Firstly, Fredrick’s hands began to glow a menacingly fiery red as he raised them up as fists. And secondly, as Tom took another step back, he bumped into someone.
There was a boy much bigger and older standing behind him holding a long metal object in his hand. Tom didn’t get the chance to wonder where he had come from. The boy hit him on the stomach with the metal object.
He dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach. Something had pierced it. He could feel it spread through his body, ripping it apart as it moved through his blood, through his veins, through his muscles.
As he squirmed on the ground, he didn’t even realise Fredrick and his friends were kicking and punching him. He did know when hands grabbed hold of him and lifted him up though. He didn’t want to be lifted up. He wanted to stay on the ground, curled up in a ball.
Fredrick stood before him, his fists raised and glowing. They connected with his face. But he felt nothing. The only thing he could feel was the agonising pain of whatever it was that still worked its way through his body.
They let go of him after a while, and Tom dropped to the ground and curled up. It didn’t help much.
“It’s Lord Dragunov to you, Breeder,” Fredrick spat in his ear.
They left him alone then, the four of them. Lying on the ground, Tom watched as they disappeared over the hill. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. “You’ll like the other side. It’s a magical place full of people like us,” Cindy had said. “You will fit in.” She had said that too.
Tom wished he had never met her.
Chapter 10
After leaving the House of Lords, Cindy headed for the School of Merlin to keep watch on Tom. If someone was to attack him, it would most likely be at night while he slept in the tree house. She sat perched on a tree the whole night, watching as Tom slept. She left as the sun rose.
Once home, she collapsed on her bed and slept like a baby. The evening came before she finally awoke and dragged herself down to the basement of her small house. She planned to check up on Lord Dragunov each evening before she went to watch on Tom.
Cindy
dipped her wand into the cauldron of water and stirred, slowly releasing the shadowing spell. The water began to change texture first, gradually thickening, before colours emerged and intensified quickly. As shapes appeared, Cindy pulled her wand out.
He was looking up at the girl standing over him. She was bumbling, nervous. He was moving now, struggling to get up.
That was the moment she had shadowed him, the moment the spell had taken effect. She watched as Lord Dragunov left the House of Lords, as he entered his carriage, as he stepped out of his carriage and into his house, as he stuffed endless amounts of food into his mouth and as his eyes finally closed.
Cindy dipped her finger into the water and stirred clockwise. Time in the cauldron passed quickly. Lord Dragunov awoke, he ate and then he met with a visitor. It was at that point that she stopped stirring. Time resumed at its normal pace.
The man in the dark cloak stood up hastily and bowed as Lord Dragunov entered the room. “You called, my lord,” he said.
“Sit,” Lord Dragunov said and the man obeyed. “I have need of your services,” Lord Dragunov continued. “Nothing difficult, nothing bloody,” he added.
“Of course, my lord,” the man said and he waited.
“You know of the Breeder?”
“No more than what everyone else knows.” The man paused, waiting to see if Lord Dragunov wanted him to continue, and as the lord did not speak, he did continue. “That he is a wizard born to breeders and that he will be going to the School of Merlin to learn as some wizards learn.”
“My son goes to that school.” Lord Dragunov said disgustedly.
“Do you wish the breeder to-” the man stopped, looking for the right word. “Disappear?”
“No,” Lord Dragunov said. “That’s what they want me to do, to strike him down in the Land of the Free.” He shook his head. “No, the boy must live for now.”
The Other Side (Thomas Skinner Book 1) Page 5