“Our resident hobgoblin,” Bri says, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Hobgoblin?” I repeat feebly.
“Another Fey type,” Owen says. “Kinda like elementals.”
Keva tsks. “Daniel, I must apologize to you,” she says. “You were right. She is just a backwater dimwit who’s been held back. There’s no other explanation for it.”
Chapter 6
Breathe, just breathe, I remind myself.
“You really don’t look too good,” Bri says when I sit next to her.
Eyes closed, I rest my head on my books. “I’m OK,” I say, more for my sake than hers.
“It’s really not that bad,” she says.
“So you keep saying.” I straighten up. “But I thought angels had”—I flutter my hands about my sides—“wings, you know?”
Bri cocks her head. “Well, some do, of course. Just like some of them look like us, but there are some who look… different.”
“And don’t forget about those who can change shapes,” Jack says, sitting before her.
“But then, how can you tell them apart from us?” I exclaim.
I hear Daniel snort on the other side of the room. “I would think it’s rather obvious, wouldn’t you?” he says, and his two friends snicker. “Puck doesn’t exactly look human.”
“Obviously!” I snap, then point at Bri accusingly. “But she said they could look like us!”
I bite on my lip to stop myself, but I know it’s too late when I see the hurt look on Bri’s face. Cheeks burning, I turn away. No matter my best intentions, I always end up ruining everything I touch, one of the reasons I never keep any friends.
A tall, burly man enters the room, the light from the chandeliers reflecting off his shining pate. He eyes us, his long mustache hanging severely low like the tusks of a walrus.
“All rise,” says a surly girl at the front. “And bow.”
At once, the class obeys and says, loud and clear, “Good morning, Sir Boris.”
The teacher’s gait is slow and uneven as he makes his way to the lectern, his clothes clanking and clinking with every step.
“I don’t like how you talk to my sister,” Owen whispers to me over his shoulder. I try to ignore him as he turns around. “And for your information, she did say Fey didn’t all look like us.”
Sir Boris clears his throat. “Mr. Vaughan,” he says, setting a large book down on his desk.
Owen spins around.
“Considering class has started, you may share what you have to say with the rest of us.”
“I was just telling her some Fey look like us,” Owen says, sheepish. “Sir.”
“So they can,” the teacher says, nodding so his mustache comes to rest on his large stomach. “So how can you distinguish them from us?”
“Uh…pointy ears?” Owen ventures.
The class bursts out laughing. “Always ready to entertain, aren’t you, Mr. Vaughan,” Sir Boris says. “But perhaps your neighbor will once again enlighten you?”
“The Fey don’t like iron, sir,” Jack answers automatically, and I see Owen slap his hand to his forehead. “So anyone who wears it is human. It’s also how we identify ourselves.”
“Right,” Sir Boris says. “Now everyone sit and put your books away. We’re having a quiz.”
A collective groan rises from the seats, but the teacher makes his slow way from desk to desk unfazed, distributing his sheets.
When he arrives besides me, he hands me a test as well, but adds, “No need to worry, Pendragon. This time I’ll let you find the answers in your book.”
“Thank you, Professor,” I say.
“It’s ‘sir,’” the large man says, moving on to the next desk.
While everyone’s writing away madly under the pressure of a ticking grandfather clock, I open the book in question: A Field Guide to Elementals.
With trembling fingers, I flip the pages to the introduction and start reading.
Many believe that, being the simplest form of elvins one can find, elementals are also the easiest to tame, but that is not so. This field guide was created with the intent to discuss the four major families and their sixteen genera, their strengths and weaknesses, and the best methods to subdue them. This edition also has an extra section on the maintenance of the creatures once captured.
I pause, take a deep breath, then turn the page. The first chapter talks about the classification of various elementals with four main branches linked to the four elements: gnomes for earth, undines or nymphs for water, sylphs for air, and salamanders for fire. I pause at the last illustration—a drawing of the incandescent lizard that lit up my dorm room! And now I wish my high-tech nuclear version was correct.
I hide my face in my book, on the verge of tears again. What have I done to deserve this? This, there’s no doubt about it, is a book of witchcraft. And the Bible’s clear on its stance on anything related to sorcery—it’s the same as transacting with the Devil himself! I cross myself at the thought, but…
Surely having a quick look isn’t going to be enough to send me to Hell, is it? And, unable to resist my curiosity, I resume my reading.
This is, by far, the strangest class I’ve ever taken, and the more I read, the more I realize the world is a lot more vast and unfathomable than I’ve ever realized. Which I find both terrifying and…a little exciting. Sister Marie-Clémence wouldn’t have recognized me if she’d seen the avidity with which I peruse the book, or the keen interest I take in the lecture that follows the quiz.
“Gianakos,” Sir Boris snaps, “where is the most likely place for a gnome to keep its ogham?”
I sigh. Again with the big words, and I’m too afraid to draw attention to myself again by asking questions.
The boy who was called on stammers, “Its f-feet, sir?”
“Are you asking me, Gianakos?”
“N-N-No, sir,” the boy replies, his face as bright as his red hair. “The-The feet.”
“A plausible answer,” Sir Boris says, “considering many of them have rather large extremities, but wrong. As usual. Watkins?”
A girl sitting at the front answers eagerly, “Most have them hidden in the ground, sir. Usually a cache or under a rock.”
“Because, as you ought to know,” Sir Boris says with a particular look at the red-haired boy, “Fey can voluntarily separate themselves from their oghams and have their powers unaffected. As long as the ogham remains surrounded by their natural element, of course.”
He goes to the blackboard and writes down a list of possible places that gnomes—or earth elementals, as I’ve just read—like to use as hiding places.
I’m not quite sure what these sources of power, or oghams, look like, and copy everything down in the hopes that I’ll soon find out.
“The key to finding these hiding places,” Sir Boris continues, “is to trick these creatures. Their powers are usually proportional to their smarts, and they’re prone to using deception and arts to outdo you.”
“But never lie,” Keva says.
Sir Boris’s stare makes my roommate cringe. “But they can’t lie,” he finally says. “Though there are ways of twisting the truth.”
He unfurls a chart hanging from the board. On it are the same four elemental illustrations pictured in my book. He turns to the diagram of a lumpy, hirsute man with a bulbous nose and large, hairy feet.
“Fey people always hide their oghams where they’re safest,” the professor continues, “which makes sense. Look at us: all our vital organs are protected within our rib cage.”
I nod in agreement—at least that I understand. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daniel’s friends push their chairs back, and something flashes. I snap my head around in time to see a glowing wave of green hurtle toward me. I try to duck, but the desk is in my way. Then, about an inch from me, the green current rebounds in the air as if it’s hit an invisible wall, and hurtles back the way it came.
There’s a loud crash, and the whole class turns to find G
ianakos sprawled on the floor, the legs of his chair broken.
“Causing trouble in class today, Mr. Gianakos?” Sir Boris asks. “Guess I’ll see you in detention later today then.”
The boys at the back snigger, but I catch Daniel giving me a long, considering look.
The dull sound of the bell reaches our classroom, and everyone jumps up to leave.
“Everyone is to write a five-page essay on two gnome types, their behavior patterns, and the best ways of approaching them by next class,” Sir Boris says. “And don’t forget, what’s the one thing you need to remember about EM?”
“Iron is the only true weapon against a Fey,” the class intones.
As I hurry by, the teacher calls me over. “Pendragon, I believe this is your first time being exposed to the topic?” His blue eyes seem to be dissecting me from the inside out, analyzing every little defect of mine.
I nod. “Y-Yes, sir.”
“You’ve got quite a lot to do if you want to catch up with your classmates then,” he growls, his mighty mustache quivering. “I expect you to turn in all the homework you’ve missed in the next two weeks. You may ask Vaughan for the list, since she’s evidently waiting for you.”
A month’s worth of homework to do in two weeks? Is the guy out of his mind? But the teacher’s too intimidating, and my nerves deflate before I can utter a sound of reproach.
“You shouldn’t have said that to her,” I hear Bri say outside. “She’s new. She’s scared—”
“That’s no excuse,” Owen cuts her off. “You were helping her! No, she’s annoying, and I don’t like her.”
I hang back to hear what more they have to say about me, shame burning my insides.
“You don’t even know her,” Bri retorts. “It’ll get better once she’s more used to this place.” Owen chortles in derision, and she adds, “For once, try to put yourself in someone else’s shoes!”
Before they can get into a full-blown fight, I walk out of the classroom.
“Sorry for making you wait,” I whisper, avoiding their eyes.
“How was your first class?” Bri asks as if nothing was wrong.
We head up a narrow staircase tucked away in a corner, and Owen hurries ahead of us without waiting.
“Don’t worry about him,” Bri says. “Or about Boris. He’s not so bad, as long as you do what he says.”
Jack coughs lightly, as if afraid to disagree openly with her.
“Well, he is rather bad,” Bri says, and before Jack can cough again, she adds, “and I really hate his class, but I’ll still help you.”
This time, Jack coughs so forcefully that Bri glares at him. “Actually, Jack here will help you out since he’s so eager to help and has the top grades. Besides”—she turns to me with a bright smile—“you can always ask Arthur, since you’re his sister.”
However unlikely it is that’s ever going to happen, I just smile back, concentrating instead on not destroying my budding friendship with Bri and proving Owen wrong.
◆◆◆
We sprint together to the other side of the building and skid to a stop across the way from wrought-iron doors that guard a library.
“This place is huge,” I say, admiring through the gaps the rows upon rows of bookshelves bursting with volumes and scrolls.
“Trust me, you’ll get sick of it soon enough,” Bri says. “Now come on, we’ve got to go in for our hour of doom lore. History,” she adds, when she sees my questioning look. “You’ll see when you hear Lincoln talk.”
I follow her into a wide auditorium where a short, energetic man greets us. “Come in and have a seat,” he says, making a sweeping gesture with his one and only arm.
I find a spot close to Keva this time, who doesn’t seem too pleased at the sight of me.
“Now that everyone’s here,” Sir Lincoln says, “let us resume where we last left off.” He jumps onto his podium, sending his full head of white hair quivering. “You all know how humans had to live under the heavy yoke of the Fey, those lost angels who got caught on Earth after the last battle between Heaven and Hell.”
I spy Bri yawning profoundly in the back, but the professor doesn’t seem to notice.
“We also covered the terrible wars that we were forced to undertake,” Sir Lincoln continues, striding along his dais, “all because of their little games. As if we were nothing more than pawns.
“Look at Troy. A great, mighty city fallen because they refused to pay tribute to certain of the Fey. Roman times were not much better, and by then, Carman’s influence was so great that even our own morals and standards of conduct started to degenerate.”
Baffled, I pause over my blank page. My version of history wasn’t quite the same—at least there was no Spanish lady involved with the downfall of the Roman Empire. I hesitate for a second longer, then decide to risk it all and raise my hand.
“Yes, Miss…”
“Pendragon,” I say. “Who’s Carman? I thought Rome had been sacked by Visigoths?”
Sir Lincoln blinks at me owlishly while the class lets out a collective gasp. Then the teacher clears his throat.
“Anyone wish to answer Miss Pendragon?” he asks.
Keva’s hand shoots up, and she immediately begins reciting, “An angel whose soul was so tainted by evil she should have gone to Hell. But the Archangel Michael missed her in his cleanup, so she got to continue her business here on Earth, bringing chaos and destruction everywhere.”
“Exactly,” Sir Lincoln says. “And—”
“She also brought the ten plagues along with her,” Keva interrupts him, on a roll. “But then she was defeated and sentenced to prison for life.”
“Very good,” the professor says. “And a piece of her lore can be found—”
“On the stele inside the library,” Keva says with a proud flick of her hair. “I can’t believe you didn’t even know that much,” she adds under her breath for my benefit.
“However we haven’t reached that part of history yet,” the teacher says, resuming his pacing. “Indeed, today we shall discuss the peak of her reign, before we humans rebelled: the Dark Ages.
“Now, everyone turn to page sixty-eight of your book. Mr. Smith, if you’d be so kind.”
While Jack stutters his way through the chapter, I draw closer to Keva.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “How did this woman even cause all of this? And what are the plagues you mentioned?”
Keva rolls her eyes, but she enjoys showing off more, and answers, “Look, the woman’s Fey, all right? That means she has insane powers. And I don’t mean just the elemental kind, which is pretty basic, but a lot more.”
“So…she could create fire and water and—”
“Not create, control,” Keva whispers harshly. “And many other things too! Haven’t you been paying attention? This world is crawling with demons that could reduce humans to ashes in the blink of an eye!”
“Then why haven’t they already?” I ask. “If, by your logic, they’re all evil and want nothing more than our death—”
“Well they’re not all like that,” Keva says with a slight grimace. “And besides, we’re here, aren’t we? To protect the innocent, yada yada yada…What’s the matter?”
“I feel sick,” I mumble, the blood draining from my face. I’ve reached my limit; I don’t think I can stay in this crazy place any longer.
“You better not throw up on me!” Keva says, stumbling out of her seat. “Sir! Morgan needs to go to the infirmary!”
The short man adds another entry to the growing list of dates on his blackboard. “Go right ahead,” he says without stopping.
With the help of Bri, who eagerly volunteers to help me, I get my books packed up and leave before I can lose the contents of my breakfast on anyone.
“Look,” Bri tells me once we’re in the empty hallway, “I know what you’re going through.” At my look of incredulity, she adds, “Well, I don’t really, but I can imagine it. Since you grew up away from all this�
��—she motions around us—“it’s only normal for you to be overwhelmed. And you’re old…well, older anywho, and so probably less adaptable. So I’m concluding you’re already halfway—make that three-quarters of the way—to the loony bin.”
I miss a step, and Bri has to hold on to me so I don’t plummet down the rest of the staircase; though getting a concussion right now sounds somewhat appealing.
“My point is,” Bri says, “that you should just accept this new reality as is. Look on the bright side. If this world is real—and I assure you it is—then you’re part of a few who know the truth. If it isn’t…” She shrugs. “Then at least you’re not the only one who’s crazy around here, and you can join the club.”
◆◆◆
“In, two, three. Out, two, three,” Owen says, no longer mad at me now that he and Jack have rejoined us outside where I’m taking some fresh air—doctor’s orders. “You feeling better?”
“I think so,” I say, releasing my breath.
In the light of day, I can clearly see the apple tree’s massive trunk rising from the center of the courtyard, its heavy foliage expanding over the school like a wide umbrella. The grounds around it are separated into alternating flower beds and vegetable patches.
He sets his foot next to me on the bench. “I just don’t get it,” he says. “The moment we took our test, we were told about Lake High and how this place works. How come your parents never did it? I mean, they’re Pendragons! Their families have been going here for generations!”
I shrug. “I don’t remember a test. Does everyone take it?”
Jack nods. “Though the ability to manipulate elementals is usually passed down to the children, it does happen that someone’s born without the talent. In which case, they’re not allowed to know about this world.”
Owen nods emphatically. “Which is why some think you—”
Bri kicks his foot from underneath him, and he falls down. “Just like some people are born with it in families that never had a knight for an ancestor,” she says.
“So did your parents go here?” I ask.
Morgana Trilogy Complete Series Page 6