Chosen (9781742844657)

by Morgansen, Shayla

  Scrying. Where would books on scrying be? I wandered around, not forgetting about the other nervous students. Were they eager to learn to scry, too? Or were they all experts at it already?

  It was about ten quiet minutes later that I found the scrying section. Granted, I hadn’t been looking too hard, slowly meandering through the shelves, stopping to examine every book with an interesting title or attractive cover, but I was glad to have found it. This Renatus guy had a good collection of scrying reference books.

  I started pulling books out, examining them and judging them all by their covers, before I realised that I wasn’t the only person in this row. I was in the advanced magic section, and an Asian girl of my own age was slowly making her way towards me, gazing at the spines of the books. She hadn’t noticed me yet. Her shiny jet-black hair was cut on a funky diagonal, from her chin on one side to her opposite shoulder, and it looked like she was trying to grow her fringe out. Her skin was porcelain white. She was very thin, very pretty in a doll-like, dainty way, a bit shorter than me, and was all but flat-chested.

  She noticed my attention and looked up. Somehow, I knew that she was Japanese, which was odd because my knowledge of Asia was limited to what I’d seen on TV and I had never spoken to a Japanese person in my entire life. I forced a smile. Did she speak English?

  ‘Hi,’ I said awkwardly, pushing a scrying book back into its slot on the shelf.

  ‘Hi,’ she responded.

  ‘I’m Aristea,’ I said because I had nothing better to say, and also because I had to say something now that I’d initiated a conversation. ‘Aristea Byrne.’

  ‘My name is Hiroko Sasaki,’ the Japanese teenager answered, smiling. It didn’t sound like English was her first language. She shifted her books into her other arm and offered me her hand. Smiling back and relaxing, I shook her hand. ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Fifteen minutes,’ I said. ‘How about you?’

  ‘One hour, I think. No one else here seems willing to talk to me, so I want to read about displacing. Do you like displacement?’

  ‘Aye, it would be pretty cool,’ I agreed automatically, earning myself an awkward pause.

  ‘My father and I searched for Irish colloquialisms online so I could learn,’ she said finally. ‘Aye means yes.’

  I caught the twinkle in her dark eyes. She was amused. I cracked a wider smile, too. I immediately liked this girl.

  ‘Do you want some help finding the displacing books?’ I asked, pushing my handful of scrying books back onto the shelf. Displacing was interesting, too.

  Hiroko looked pleased.

  ‘Yes, please,’ she said. ‘If you don’t mind.’

  I shook my head and walked down the row with her, looking for books with ‘Displacing’ printed on the spine.

  ‘My main objective of coming here this year is to learn to scry,’ I told Hiroko. ‘I always wanted to learn how to do it. What about you?’

  ‘I’d like to learn,’ Hiroko agreed, ‘but first I want to perfect my displacing. My father has been teaching me for some past years.’

  ‘You can displace already?’ I asked, impressed. She nodded, her pale cheeks turning to a delicate shade of pink.

  ‘Not reliable. I cannot displace myself very far. My father helped me to get here. But I can displace objects almost perfectly now, and I am studying very hard to displace myself properly. I want to study the theory more and get better with this.’

  For half an hour, we chatted, getting to know each other as we searched the shelves for displacement reference books. Hiroko’s English was very good, although it was quite obvious that it was a language that she had learnt through study rather than through necessity. Finally we found the books we’d been searching for. The selection was quite small it turned out, and was on the very bottom shelf, practically on the floor. We sat opposite each other on the carpet, sorting through the twelve displacing books and talking.

  Hiroko was from Japan – she was from Sapporo, Hokkaido Island. She was also seventeen, but had no siblings. She lived with her father in a flat in the city. Surprised by our similarities despite our cultures, I told her that I also lived in a flat in the city with one guardian.

  I must have been there for going on three hours (Hiroko must have been there for almost four) when I heard someone close the tall, thin door through which everyone had entered. Hiroko heard it too, and we both peered apprehensively through the shelves towards the door, which was now on the far side of the library. We’d managed to find two comfortable chairs right at the back of the room.

  Eight purple-robed figures had just entered. The other kids in the library were putting their books away and respectfully hurrying over to the chairs set out before the podium. With a quick glance at one another, Hiroko and I got up and walked as fast as we could towards the crowd, ensuring that we didn’t run. You can’t run in a library.

  Of the thirteen chairs set up on the little platform, ten of them were now occupied. I personally recognised some of the occupants – Tian, Susannah, Glen, and Qasim (the Scrier!) – but the other six sitting down were unfamiliar, nameless. The eleventh man was old, bearded and radiant with compassion and warmth. He was standing at the front of the podium, waiting. I’d never seen him before but I knew immediately who he was: Lord Gawain, widely regarded as the greatest sorcerer of the time, head of White Elm and the leader of the magical world. He was nearing seventy, I saw, and was tall and broad. His purple robes sported a white sash. His face was lined but friendly and he had a certain air, an aura of greatness that could not fail to impress his audience.

  Hiroko and I found seats next to each other. She was in an aisle seat, with no one to her right. To my left was a boy who looked to be fifteen or less, except of course he must be at least sixteen to even be here.

  Once everyone was silently seated, Lord Gawain began to speak.

  ‘Good afternoon, my friends,’ he said. His voice was quite soft, and, like Glen, he had a Welsh accent, but it carried. I was surprised – I had never known that Lord Gawain was Welsh. Everyone said that he lived here in Northern Ireland, so I’d assumed he was a local. ‘Welcome to the White Elm Academy. I would firstly like to thank you all for your generosity in giving your time to come here this year. I assure you all it will not be a waste of time – all of the White Elm have skills we are willing to share with you and pass on to you. For those of you who are not aware, my name is Lord Gawain, head of White Elm.’

  Like anybody here was dumb enough not to know that, though, I thought a second too early, because the boy beside me flinched in utter shock. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Who else would the man be?

  ‘Seated behind me are ten of my White Elm colleagues,’ Lord Gawain continued. He did not look back at them but listed their names from left to right as though he were looking at them. Could he sense them so distinctly that he knew exactly where they all were? ‘Qasim, Glen, Susannah, Elijah, Anouk, Tian, Emmanuelle, Aubrey, Teresa and Jadon. Some have been working here at the Academy all day to ensure that your first day runs as smoothly as possible; others have been transporting many of you from your home countries so that you may be with us today.’

  I scanned the row left to right, trying to memorise the names of the White Elm. The first three I recognised; Elijah was next, a fragile-looking man with unruly brown hair. He looked like he might be blown away in a strong wind, never to be seen again. The fifth was the rake-thin woman who had been in the library when I arrived, and the sixth was Tian. The next woman was exceedingly beautiful and I guessed (as I had with Hiroko) that she was European. Her hair was long, wavy and blonde – Emmanuelle. Next was Aubrey, who had been here with Anouk when I’d arrived. Teresa was petite and of evident eastern European descent, and Jadon was slightly gangly with close-cropped hair.

  They were sitting, I noticed, in such an order that the older councillors were seated at one end and younger ones at the other. I didn’t know any of their exact ages, but I a
ssumed that they must have seated themselves according to rank, which must have been organised by age.

  Still, the first three seats were vacant. One must be Lord Gawain’s. Who else was missing?

  ‘Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, a list will be posted here in the library to inform you all of which White Elm members will be teaching which subjects. Your classes are being decided tonight, and the class lists will be posted at the same time. Each class is being arranged with age and abilities in mind.’

  I wondered if Hiroko would be in my classes. She was my age, but she seemed quite more advanced than me.

  ‘You will have eleven subjects in all, but no real timetables have been created – our schedules are much too busy and prone to change for us to even attempt to organise a workable, structured timetable for you all to follow. Your week’s subjects will be posted by Monday morning each week in this library. Because of this flexible timetabling, you may find sometimes that two classes are scheduled for the same time. In this instance, we remind you that you are all young adults: you can elect which class to attend, according to your own preferences or areas of need.’

  I guessed that Lord Gawain was one of the White Elm councillors not teaching. After all, he was much too busy for something as unimportant as teaching schoolchildren. He ran a nation, more or less.

  ‘Your meals will be served in the dining hall, which is through the door opposite the library,’ Lord Gawain was saying now. ‘Your dormitories are on the second level of the school. Some house three students, others four. Your key will fit only one. Each key is unique and different. They all fitted the simple gate lock, and will all unlock the front doors of this school, but only students living inside a dormitory will be able to gain access with his or her own key. Your closets are accessible only with your own key. Your roommates’ keys will not fit the locks on your cupboards and closets.’

  I, like most of the other students around me, got my key out and gazed at it.

  ‘Now I would like to introduce you all to a pair of extraordinary people,’ Lord Gawain said suddenly, causing us all to pocket or hide away our keys quickly. The impressive, white-haired man waved his hand towards the library door. Every student turned to stare at it. It was closed.

  But then it opened, and, as promised, two people stepped inside the library. The first was a shortish woman of almost sixty. Her black hair was streaked with silver and the very dark skin on her kindly face was starting to wrinkle. Her royal purple robes also bore a white sash, like Lord Gawain. I’d seen photos of this woman before, in mortal newspapers – she was Lady Miranda, second-longest serving current White Elm and co-leader to Lord Gawain. She was a most gifted Healer – once she had succeeded in bringing someone back to life almost a minute after his heart had stopped, using her talent. She worked in London as a surgeon. The mortals there thought she was just good at her job. They had no idea who she really was, how great she was to us.

  The man following her was a stranger to me, but he drew my attention (and, I realised, the attention of every other person in the library) immediately. His robes were emerald green, a huge contrast to the purple of the White Elm. His complexion was pale and smooth, but not unhealthily white. His hair was silky and jet-black, longish but not untidy. He wasn’t old – in his early twenties, I guessed, about the same age as Angela. He was tall and lean, but not lanky. In fact, he looked very comfortable in his body. He was graceful and had a demandingly strong air.

  The energy surrounding him was incredible. He was the most powerful sorcerer in the room, easily, and more powerful than anyone I’d ever before encountered or probably ever would again.

  This had to be Renatus, the owner of the house. The tall, thin door through which he passed seemed built for his frame. After closing the door, the young man turned back to the silent crowd, ignoring us all, and I heard a few girls gasp as he neared the podium.

  He was beautiful. Staggeringly beautiful. His features were perfect and carefully formed, like artwork. His dark eyebrows were not too heavy – they were of a perfect thickness, and made him more striking, and hung perfectly over a pair of mesmerising violet eyes…

  I blinked as Hiroko nudged me. Trying to hide her smile behind one hand, she pointed discreetly towards a girl a few rows in front of us. She had a high, strawberry blonde ponytail, cute features including an upturned nose, and a couple of freckles. Her bright eyes were fixed upon the man in emerald green and her pretty face sported an awestruck, predatory look. I’d never seen anyone look so intense. I smiled at Hiroko, hoping we didn’t giggle. I was glad she’d nudged me – I might have looked just as creepy as that strawberry blonde girl.

  ‘Lady Miranda, my co-leader,’ Lord Gawain continued, although it seemed that many minutes had passed, ‘and Renatus, your headmaster.’

  While no one in the audience spoke as Lady Miranda and Renatus took their seats, I felt the surprise and the restlessness of the students. They all desperately wanted to murmur amongst themselves, but knew it would be disrespectful to Lord Gawain. I understood their surprise. Headmaster! Renatus was one of the youngest White Elm councillors present. He was about the same age as my sister, and I knew Angela would not be able to handle the responsibility of that post.

  Well, she probably could, if it were her only responsibility. I doubted whether she would have time to run a school and clean up after me.

  I realised that Lord Gawain was talking again, but I, like everyone else, wasn’t really listening. Something or another about respecting each other and property. We were all busy staring at Renatus, who completely ignored us. He was impossible to ignore. He listened to Lord Gawain with mild interest, although wore no expression.

  Then it was his turn to speak, and we held our breaths. Lord Gawain sat down beside Lady Miranda amongst polite applause, and Renatus stood. The clapping stopped abruptly. He seemed not to notice, and walked to the front of the platform.

  ‘This school is my house,’ he said simply, his voice low, silky and somehow intriguing. He actually sounded almost bored. The strawberry blonde girl looked ready to faint. ‘I trust you will treat it with respect during your time here. Smoking will not be tolerated inside. You will not litter. You will find that electronic equipment will not function in or around this house. Your evening meal is being served now in the dining hall. Afterwards you will be informed of your dormitories. A White Elm member will be assigned as your dormitory supervisor. This is the person to whom you will forward all of your requirements, complaints and questions. He or she will give you a tour of the Academy building, ending at your room. Your keys will open your door. Your belongings are already inside your rooms. Please enjoy your studies throughout the term.’

  It was such a short speech that when he stepped off the stage and walked out of the room, we students simply remained where we were, silent and unsure. The White Elm stood and filed off the podium, so, with a nervous glance at Hiroko, she and I stood. The others quickly followed our example, and we all left the library.

  This was going to be an interesting year.

  Our buffet meal was delicious – roast chickens with a hundred golden potatoes to go around, and plenty of steamed vegetables for those who didn’t eat meat. I wasn’t one of those people. I loved meat, but I dumped a pile of steamed beans onto my plate as I passed the buffet table, thinking of Angela’s health-thing.

  The hall itself was long, with the same height ceiling as the entrance hall, high enough to give a feeling of spaciousness without the room having to be particularly sizeable. There was one huge oak table that looked made for the place, and I wondered as I walked in the main doors how anyone had managed to get it in here. It was wider than the door frame, and seemingly all one piece. Was it built inside this room? Straight-backed timber chairs were tucked neatly along both sides. Another, smaller table, much newer and a different colour of wood, obviously added later, was situated to the side with thirteen chairs. It seemed clear that this was where the White Elm would sit
, while the big old table was for us.

  Hiroko and I sat together at the long, elegant, oak table, chatting over our meals. Opposite us was a pair of identical twin girls. They had chest-length brown hair, sweet faces and crystal green eyes. They looked about my age. I wondered if they’d be in any of my classes.

  One of them caught my eye and smiled.

  ‘I’m Kendra Prescott,’ she said. Her sister had a mouthful of roast potato, so she added, ‘This is Sophia.’

  ‘Aristea,’ I answered, glad to meet more people.

  ‘I’m Hiroko,’ my friend added. ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘Canada,’ Kendra replied. ‘Vancouver. That’s where our dad lived when Mom met him. She’s a witch from the States – he’s a mortal.’

  ‘Where do you live?’ Sophia asked. She and her sister sounded almost identical, but I noticed very slight differences in their voices. Cautiously, I allowed my sixth sense to sweep against their presences. As could be expected, there were more differences in their personalities than in their shared appearance.

  ‘Sapporo, in Japan,’ Hiroko said. ‘With my father.’

  The twins turned to me expectantly.

  ‘I live about an hour north from here with my older sister,’ I said. ‘We used to live by the sea but now we live in the city.’

  The four of us talked for the entirety of the meal. I finished my dinner, arranged my cutlery in the centre of my scraped-clean plate and leaned back. Just as I started to agree with Hiroko’s last statement, someone appeared at my elbow to take my dishes. I glanced at the maid in surprise. Where had she come from? She hurried away before I could say anything.

  When everyone was done, Lady Miranda stepped forward, and the cheery chatter died away. She had a list in her hand.

  ‘Your dormitories have been organised according to age,’ Lady Miranda explained. ‘When your name is called, will you please come and stand at the front beside me, where your group will be assigned a supervisor, who will then begin your tour of the school.’