They probably were, Tom thought. It needed four of them to beat him. And even then, one had attacked from behind.
“They aren’t all bad,” a shaky voice said. It was Gemma. With her arms folded in front of her chest she stared at Tom looking determined, challenging even. “Some of them just want out. Merlin had no right to lock up every wizard within the Great Barrier. He had no right to give away wizard land to the Wanderers.”
The whispers he heard, they weren’t grievances of land given away. A lot of wizards thought they were the chosen race. It was their destiny to rule over the whole world, not the inferior Wanderers. No, what they wanted was to conquer the world and enslave everybody. Tom said as much.
“Oh because that’s the worst thing ever, isn’t it?” Gemma scorned. “We know about you Wanderers, always fighting, always killing, always at war. Left alone, you’ll destroy the whole world along with yourselves. We need the Le Fays because of you Wanderers.”
Tom’s eyes widened and he sat up straight. He hadn’t expected this outburst from her. But he shouldn’t have been surprised, he barely knew her. The only reason they ever spoke was because she was interested in his dreams. They weren’t friends.
“You thought we didn’t know, but we do. We know everything,” Gemma continued, mistaking Tom’s stunned silence as an admission of guilt. “As a race, you Wanderers are disgusting. Half of you die because you eat too much while the other half die because they have no food. Oh and do you breed, by god you love to breed! There are billions of you Wanderers,” Gemma vented. “Billions!” she repeated. “Your inferior race needs to be controlled. Merlin had no right to lock us up in Atlantis. He had no right. The first thing the Le Fays should do once they break through the Great Barrier is stop your race of breeders from breeding. It would solve most of your problems.”
The children in school would say similar things when he would walk past, about what they would like to do to Wanderers once the Great Barrier was down. Tom would quicken his pace to get away from them. The tree house was his usual escape. And now they were here too.
“Lock them up and stop them from breeding,” Gemma continued, talking to no one in particular.
Tom stood up and walked towards her. “Get out,” he said. His voice came out husky and quiet, not at all how he wanted it to be. She stared up at him apprehensively. “Get out,” he repeated, his voice much louder this time.
And yet, still she remained seated, though she did look around for support. Jenna shuffled awkwardly in her chair as her eyes shifted to-and-fro between them. Saafir stared at her unsympathetically.
“I said get out!”
Gemma shot up and took a step forward. Her lips tightened as her face came within inches of his. He could feel her breath on his skin, see her shaking, and even hear her heart pounding. Her hands had formed fists and were colouring. Why could he hear her heart pounding?
She was going to hit him. He began to panic inside. He hadn’t thought this through properly. What was he supposed to do? Should he fight back? Could he fight back?
Moments passed and Gemma didn’t strike. The colour began to leave her fists, though her face came even closer to his before she abruptly turned and walked out. As Tom watched her go, he realised he was shaking. His hands had formed into fists too.
Why was he so angry? He had never been this angry before, not even when Fredrick had beaten him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jenna stand up. She waved at him awkwardly before hurrying out after her sister.
Tom returned to the bed and dropped himself down on it. He was still angry, still shaking. Gemma shouldn’t have said those things, but the children in school said much worse, and he had never shouted at them. He stared at the floor, suddenly feeling ashamed.
“I should go,” Saafir said. “Come to class tomorrow. We’ll get your book back.”
Tom nodded without looking at him.
Maybe it was because he was still angry, but he was suddenly looking forward to class tomorrow. He was going to get his book back and if he had to hurt the son of a lord to do it, even better.
Chapter 15
He was in a large hall. There was row after row of pillars on either side of him and in front. Silver and green stripes swirled round the pillars. The floor was made of green marble. The walls were green too, and the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling were silver, their flames green.
It was beautiful. But he wasn’t here to admire the view. He was here to find something. What that thing was, he didn’t know yet, but he would, once he saw it.
He moved on, through a hallway, through another room, another hallway, and another, never pausing. He was being guided, he knew. He came to an opening, and in front of him the corridor continued, but either side of him were two spiral staircases, going both up and down.
He walked up the staircase to his right. And there it was: something different – fear. He was standing on the landing now and he was afraid, but his feet moved regardless, taking him towards the door at the end. That was why he was here, to see what lay beyond.
He opened the door and walked in. The room was dimly lit and he thought it to be empty. But his eyes adjusted to the light. And he saw the bed.
There was a couple lying there, unmoving, asleep. They were an old couple. The man had a beard, partially white and partially... red was it? It was hard to make out in the light. The colour continued off the man’s beard and onto the bedding, as if an artist had painted it.
And then he noticed the splattering of red all over the bed, and on the floor too. He stared at it dumbly before he realised what it really was.
Blood – it was blood. The old man’s beard was partially covered in blood. The whole bed had blood all over it, as did the floor around.
The couple weren’t asleep. They were dead.
***
Tom sat in class, hungry and grumpy. He had skipped breakfast again. He would have been late to Madam Stewart’s class if he hadn’t. And he couldn’t be late today, the day he was supposed to get his book back.
They hadn’t spoken about how he was going to do that. But Tom had thought about it some last night and he had a few ideas. Most revolved around punching Fredrick in the face – continually.
But that was last night. He had been really angry last night. Now that he had calmed down, punching someone in the face wasn’t as appealing anymore. And, he had never punched anyone before. What if he did it wrong?
The twins walked in then. Gemma ignored him, though she did seem to be annoyed at the floor. Her long purple hair whipped up as she turned swiftly to sit in her chair. Jenna gave him a quick smile before she sat down. The class began to fill. Fredrick was one of the last in. With his two friends by his side he swaggered past Tom, even pausing to grin.
Tom was angry again. Punching Fredrick was suddenly very alluring. He almost got up there and then. But there were three of them and one of him. It was better to wait. Saafir walked in a little later, nodded at him and headed toward Fredrick. Tom got up and followed.
“You have his book?”
Fredrick looked up. “What if I do?”
“Give it back.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Just give it back.” Saafir sounded more annoyed than anything else.
Fredrick stood up and kicked back his chair. Malcolm and Andre came to stand by him. The three of them glowered at Saafir, trying their best to intimidate him. Tom was still there, but being completely ignored. It annoyed him that they thought so little of him and it added to his anger.
He lunged forward and grabbed Fredrick by the neck with both hands. It wasn’t the punching he had envisaged, but it was effective as they fell back, toppled over the table and crashed to the ground.
Tom was on top and he moved quickly to sit on Fredrick’s chest. He could feel his hands burning as he formed them into fists. They were glowing green as he started to punch. Fredrick stared up at him, his eyes wide, his face confused and contorted. Blood began to pour
out from his nose. It covered his face in a pasty mess. He lay still, unresisting. Tom began to wonder if he had gone too far, if he should stop.
The choice was taken out of his hands.
A high-pitched screeching sound filled the room. Tom immediately stopped punching and pressed both his hands against his ears. He rolled off Fredrick and curled up in the foetal position, trying to make himself small, hoping the sound wouldn’t find him. He even closed his eyes.
It didn’t work.
He was sure his head was going to explode when it suddenly stopped. It was replaced by a ringing noise that echoed from ear to ear. Tom opened his eyes. He wasn’t the only one lying on the ground curled up. He spotted a pair of skinny legs standing upright. They could only belong to one person.
“...fighting...how dare they...in my classroom...” the words were whispered. He shouldn’t have heard it, not with the noise in his head. But he did. And he almost missed the screeching sound.
“Who is responsible for this?” Madam Stewart asked, her voice no longer a whisper. Her eyes settled on Tom as he uncurled and stood up. Her face was colourless and her lips trembled as she pointed at him. “You did this?”
Tom thought he had, but he wasn’t so sure anymore as he looked around the classroom. It was in a mess. Tables and chairs were turned on their sides across half the classroom. Books were equally scattered and torn. Had he done all of that? How and when? Wasn’t he sitting on top of Fredrick the whole time?
“The tables and chairs,” Saafir said as he got up and brushed his clothes down, “that was me and those two.” He pointed at Andre and Malcolm.
“You don’t understand how angry I am,” Madam Stewart fumed as her fingers clawed at thin air.
Tom was pretty sure he did. But now was no time to disagree with her.
“Never,” she whispered, “never!” she screamed. “Never before... in my classroom... fighting... I will not stand for this.”
She waved her hand and three pieces of papers and three quills floated off her desk. Another wave and they began to write on the papers. Tom had been here for over a month, he had seen many things, but he still stared at the papers and quills as they did their thing.
“Thomas, Malcolm, Andre – headmaster’s office.”
The pieces of papers folded and one flew at Tom, hitting him on the face before dropping at his feet. He picked it up while rubbing his cheek.
“GET OUT OF MY CLASS.”
She didn’t have to yell, he thought, as he grabbed his bag and trudged towards the door. Headmaster’s office – he had heard her and he wasn’t going to argue. Of course, it was all Fredrick’s fault, but she wasn’t going to throw him out, was she?
He almost slammed the door behind him, almost. He was glad a little later that he hadn’t. There was no knowing what the crazy woman would have done to him if he had.
Malcolm and Andre walked behind him. They didn’t look too happy, those two. Malcolm’s nose was bleeding while Andre had a cut lip.
Tom stopped in front of the headmaster’s door, suddenly nervous. He wasn’t used to this, being thrown out of class, being in trouble. He took a deep breath and knocked.
“Come in.”
Tom opened the door and walked in.
Chapter 16
The headmaster sat in his chair behind the desk. With a large magnifying glass in one hand, he stared down at a stretched scroll. Tom felt a moment of déjà vu. Wasn’t he doing exactly the same thing the last time he had knocked on his door?
“Ah Thomas,” the headmaster said as he looked up. “How can I help you?” he smiled.
“Madam Stewart sent me,” Tom said sheepishly as he lowered his head.
He held out the folded piece of paper. The headmaster glanced at it, and Tom felt it tug in his hand. He let go of it and it flew away from him toward the headmaster, where it opened. Once the headmaster had finished reading, the paper tore itself to shreds before dissolving and disappearing.
“You’ve been here over a month now, haven’t you?”
“Yes sir.”
“You’ve done well.”
“I have?” Tom raised his head.
“She’s a good girl, that Cindy. A bit ambitious, but good at heart,” the headmaster said.
The conversation wasn’t making much sense to Tom. Why had he been congratulated? Why were they talking about Cindy? What did it say on the note? How old was the headmaster?
“I’ve been to the Other Side. Those Wanderers, as sociable a race as they are, they do love to avoid wizards.” He paused and stared at Tom. “Growing up as the only wizard in a world of Wanderers – it must have been difficult,” he said softly.
He was being sympathetic...
But Tom found he didn’t want sympathy. His life hadn’t been that bad. It still wasn’t. Sure, everyone had ignored him on the Other Side, but so what? That was life. You shrugged and moved on.
“Those lords, cooped up in their houses, surrounded by their own ilk, who knows, maybe they thought they were doing you a favour, taking you away from the Wanderers... ” He paused again. “I hear things Thomas, as I walk the corridors. Children, they can be so cruel.” He was staring at Tom studiously now. “You’re not thinking of running away, are you?”
That was another question he hadn’t expected. It was a shame the note was gone. He would have loved to know what was written on it.
“No sir,” Tom replied.
Ever since Saafir had implied he could die a horrible death out there, he had indefinitely shelved the idea of running away.
“Good,” the headmaster said. “You don’t know what’s out there.”
Tom thought he did.
“Le Fays,” the headmaster said. “Lots of them,” he added.
That was what he thought.
“A crazy bunch too.”
Well, weren’t they all?
“We wizards as a race are disgusting. Violent mobs of Le Fays roaming around towns and villages.” The old man’s voice began to rise as he spoke and he got up from his chair and leaned over the desk. “They’ll hang you if you ever step out of this school!”
Tom took a step back, surprised by his sudden ferocity.
“Don’t ever think of running away,” the headmaster continued, unaware that Tom was slowly backing away from him. “Don’t you ever.” He pointed his finger.
“I won’t, I won’t,” Tom said hastily, wondering where the old, quiet, sort-of-odd headmaster he knew had gone.
“You’re safe in school. They won’t come here.” His voice began to lower, to return to normal, and he sat back down. “The lords would crush anyone who dared kill in the School of Merlin, in the Land of the Free, no less.”
The earlier sudden burst of energy seemed to have taken its toll. The headmaster rested his head in his hands. His elbows pushed against the table. A minute passed, and still he rested.
Tom wondered if that was it, if he could go. When he had knocked on the door, he had expected a telling-off for fighting to have been the minimum. Instead, the headmaster had... well, he had sort of told him off, hadn’t he?
The headmaster raised his head. “Ah Thomas, where were we?” he asked. “Ah yes, children. They can be so cruel. Don’t listen to them. Wanderers are an astonishing race. They have this sense of curiosity, sense of adventure, their imagination – it’s remarkable. Wizards, we are lazy, we lack imagination, we can’t even dream.”
Tom shivered at the mention of the word dream.
“All a wizard had to do was get on a broom and fly out to sea, but did any? It was the Wanderers who made contact. And it wasn’t easy for them. They had to build ships and sail the treacherous seas, risking their lives. They have mastered the skies like no wizard ever could. They have even been to the moon. The moon, I say. Would you believe that?” The headmaster was excited again.
“And we wizards have done nothing in that time,” he said disgustedly. “We are where we were a thousand years ago and we will be where we are a thousand
years later.
“You know, if the Le Fays ever break out of Atlantis, they’ll destroy everything on the Other Side. They’ll send Wanderers back to the Stone Age.” He paused before adding darkly, “The ones they don’t kill, that is.”
For a brief moment, Tom forgot why he had been sent to the headmaster’s office. He forgot about Fredrick. He forgot about his stolen book. He forgot about the mean children in school. Even Madam Stewart left his thoughts.
Instead, his mind filled with images of what would happen if the Le Fays were let out. Cities burning, Wanderers huddled together hiding, wizards flying above on brooms, their laughter echoing off the empty streets.
“Take the rest of the morning off, Thomas.”
He shuddered as the images faded. “Take the morning off, sir?”
“Did you know there is a lovely forest just behind that tree house of yours?”
Tom nodded slowly. He did know of the forest, though lovely wouldn’t be the word he would use to describe it.
“Go for a walk. Get some fresh air.”
It wasn’t the worst idea, going for a walk in the forest. It was only scary at night. He did have one question to ask before he left though.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
Tom hesitated, wondering if it was wise to bring it up. “Sir... what did it say on the piece of paper?”
“It said that you started a fight in Madam Stewart’s class, that never in all her years had a fight broken out in her class, and that you destroyed her classroom, turning chairs and tables upside-down and tearing books apart.”
Oh.
“Sir...” Tom began again.
“Yes, Thomas?” the headmaster asked patiently.
“Shouldn’t I be in some sort of trouble?”
“Not this time, Thomas,” the headmaster said with a smile. “If I am to be honest, I did not expect you to last this long before you punched somebody in the face.” He was smiling broadly now.
Tom smiled back awkwardly and shuffled his feet.
The Other Side (Thomas Skinner Book 1) Page 8