Following Kyja, Marcus wondered what exactly went on in the academy. Would it be like a normal Earth school with tests and grades? Would there be bullies like Chet and his friends, the boys who tried to beat him up at his last school? He couldn’t imagine that. If he went to a school where they taught magic, he’d be too happy to bother anyone. And if he saw a bully trying to pick on other kids—
Marcus’s thoughts cut off abruptly as he and Kyja reached the back of the building. Even though they were on Farworld, he’d been thinking of the school grounds in terms of the ones he was used to. Behind the building would be a typical playground—asphalt basketball courts, maybe a few tetherball poles, swings and slides for the little kids, and a baseball diamond for the big kids.
It was an image so locked in his mind that at first he thought he was seeing that. A group of kids about his age pushed and shoved one another as they ran up and down a long, stone-paved court. The kids wore short pants and sleeveless shirts that could have been basketball uniforms if it weren’t for the glowing patterns of stripes on the shorts, and that the shirts kept changing colors as the kids jostled for position. Along the sidelines, other kids raised their hands, cheering or complaining, depending on who they were rooting for.
Then he realized there were no hoops. And no ball, either. After a moment of watching, he realized they were fighting for control of what looked like a large, spinning top. It skittered across the stone court in a zigzag pattern, staying on the ground for several feet before bouncing high into the air.
A broad-shouldered boy lunged for the top as it zipped by. It gave out an ear-splitting squeal as the boy’s fingers neared it, but just as he looked like he was going to get it, a girl stuck out her foot, and the boy smashed face-first to the stones.
“Ouch!” Marcus groaned, almost feeling the boy’s pain himself.
“Just watch,” Kyja said.
Marcus turned back to the game in time to see the girl leap for the top as it again bounced into the air. Before she could get anywhere near it, though, two other girls, wearing green double X marks on their red shirts, hit her with what looked like a blast of air magic. The blow threw the girl twenty feet down the court. As she landed, Marcus heard a clear snap—like a tree branch breaking. The girl got slowly to her feet, tucking her bent arm to her chest.
What kind of game was this? It made football look like a sport for sissies. By the time these kids were finished, they’d all be in the hospital. The top skipped unexpectedly to the right between the two girls, but before either of them could grab it, a boy who looked to be no older than eight or nine dove between them and snatched it with a graceful, rolling grab.
Clutching the top under one arm, the boy made a mad dash for the end of the court, the rest of the kids in close pursuit. Still bucking and trying to escape the boy’s grip, the top gave out three sharp whistles. Tweet, tweet, tw-e-e-e-t. At the end of the third whistle, the boy held the top above his head and it . . . exploded, throwing the players in all directions.
Chapter 14
Harbingers
Marcus barked in dismay, unable to form words to express his horror at what had happened. His mouth hung open. Where the young boy had been standing was a smoking pit several feet deep. The boy was disintegrated, and the rest of the players lay, unmoving, on the court. He couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed. What was wrong with these kids? They were all cheering and laughing as if the boy’s death was just part of the game. Was that it? Was dying part of the game? This was sick.
He looked up at Kyja, who was cupping a hand to her mouth. Marcus thought he actually heard her giggle.
“Look,” she said pointing.
Across the court, kids were jumping up and down, pounding someone on the back. As the crowd cleared a little, he recognized the person they were congratulating. It was the boy. The one who’d just blown up. And one of the people congratulating him was the girl with the broken arm. Only her arm looked fine now. In fact, all of the players seemed to be standing on the sidelines. But if they were over there, who were the kids on the ground?
Pop! The girl with the broken arm disappeared from the court. Pop! Pop! The two girls with the Xs, who were lying tangled on the flat stones, disappeared too. One by one, each of the players vanished until the court was empty.
He looked at Kyja who was openly grinning now. “It wasn’t real?”
She shook her head. “It’s called Lusia. Each player controls a magic duplicate of himself or herself. That was actually a pretty tame version. There’s one where you try to keep from being eaten by a set of giant fangs.”
“Lusia,” Marcus whispered under his breath. He could hardly believe none of the kids had actually been injured. His heart was still pounding.
“You’re not supposed to bring dogs to academy,” said a small voice behind him.
Marcus turned to see a little girl with straight, red hair that hung almost halfway down the back of her yellow robe. Forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to talk, Marcus opened his mouth, but Kyja quickly spoke first.
“I don’t attend here. I’m just visiting.”
With a snooty expression, the girl shook back her hair. “Pets still aren’t allowed.”
“I know, but . . .”
Bored, Marcus wandered across the field, studying the rest of the students and trying to imagine what it would like to be one of them. Snippets of conversation intrigued him.
“ . . . and I told him second water and fourth fire still won’t allow a goat’s tongue to translate . . .”
“So she said, ‘This juice tastes a little tart,’ not knowing that Laquias laced it with Ogre’s Breath just that morning.”
“But she says he likes her. Can you imagine? What he would see in a string bean of a girl that hasn’t even mastered basic air is beyond me. So I told her . . .”
“Hey, little guy.”
Marcus looked up as a boy with a freckled face knelt beside him and scratched the fur between his shoulder blades. Holy cow, that felt good! Something seemed to be shaking the back half of his body, and he craned his head around to see his bushy brown tail wagging like crazy.
“What are you doing here? Did you come to learn magic?” The boy laughed and moved his fingers to a spot just behind Marcus’s left ear.
“He’s not supposed to be here,” said the little girl with the red hair, who’d apparently followed him.
“Go get lost in the swamp,” the boy said.
Marcus knew he was supposed to be looking for clues to Land Keep. But the scratching felt so good, he thought he could just stand there all day, melting like butter. Then he heard something that caught his attention. By the corner of the building, a group of five very young children were playing a game that looked like a mix between hopscotch and jump rope.
The children stood in a circle pushing a colored symbol that hovered in the air from one child to another. Every time the symbol moved, it changed. Depending on what it turned into, the children had to do something different—jumping, spinning, sometimes very simple magic like making a rock fly through the air or creating a puff of wind. As they waited their turn, the children clapped their hands and chanted out the words to a song, just like Earth children did while jumping rope.
Leaving the boy and girl who were now locked in a heated argument, Marcus edged closer to the game so he could make out the words.
Ice worm, mud worm, piece of pie,
Miss a turn, and you will die.
Then you have to make your bed,
In the swamp with all the dead.
Ice worm, mud worm, piece of cake,
Keepers see you make a mistake.
If they do, then you must go
To the city far below.
Ice worm, mud worm, piece of meat
Must move quickly with your feet.
If you don’t, you lose because
Harbingers will get you with their big, big claws
City far below? Could that be Land Keep? Marcus scratch
ed his ear with his back paw. If Water Keep was under the water, it stood to reason that Land Keep could be underground. But what was that about sleeping with the dead? And the harbingers with their “big, big claws” didn’t sound any too promising. A commotion of raised voices interrupted his thoughts, and Marcus turned to see Kyja surrounded by a group of kids her age or a little older. He hurried back to see what was going on.
One of the girls who’d been playing Lusia was eyeing Kyja with obvious suspicion. “Why aren’t you in school?”
“I told you—I’m visiting,” Kyja said falling back a step. The crowd moved with her. “With my aunt.”
A broad-shouldered boy with a jaw that looked like the front of a bulldozer leaned forward. “Where’s your brand?”
“I . . . don’t need one. My aunt lives here.”
“Have you been scaled?” asked someone in the crowd.
“Y-yes,” Kyja stammered.
“Highbal or lowbal?” demanded the boy with the thick jaw.
Kyja hesitated.
“She’s a lowbal,” called the girl. “No lowbals allowed at academy.”
“I’m not a lowbal,” Kyja said. Things were starting to turn ugly. Marcus looked for Riph Raph, hoping he could provide a distraction, but the skyte was nowhere to be seen.
Go, he urged Kyja inside his head. Let’s just get out of here.
“Prove it,” said the girl. “Prove you’re not a lowbal.”
“Prove it. Prove it. Prove it,” the kids began chanting. A clump of mud flew out of the crowd and hit Kyja in the side of the face. Marcus growled and felt the hackles rise up on the back of his neck.
“That your dog?” the boy sneered. “He’s probably a lowbal too.” The boy aimed a kick at Marcus. He tried to dodge it, but the kick caught him on his bad right leg, and a yelp of pain escaped his muzzle.
“Leave him alone!” Kyja shoved the boy backward, and he tripped on the girl standing behind him, landing on the ground with a grunt.
In an instant, the boy was back on his feet—hands clenched into fists. “No lowbal pushes me.” He shoved Kyja off her feet. A blast of magic ripped a chunk of sod from the ground and smeared mud across the front of Kyja’s face.
“The lowbal doesn’t deserve to wear a robe,” the girl hissed. She raised her hands, and Kyja’s robe began to flutter and slide up past her knees. It was all Kyja could do to keep her clothing from pulling off her.
Marcus knew he couldn’t do magic without giving himself away, so he charged forward and bit the girl on the ankle. As she shrieked and fell backward, Marcus jumped at the boy who was sending rocks flying at Kyja’s face and body as she struggled to hold down her robe. His teeth sank into the meaty part of the boy’s calf.
“Get off me!” the boy screamed. Something slammed against Marcus’s ribs, and he felt his grip on the boy slipping. Another blow from one of the kids in the crowd, and he was tumbling through the air.
“Stinking mutt bit me.” The boy looked at the blood dripping down his calf and onto his boot then started toward Marcus.
“Don’t touch him!” Kyja tried to struggle to her feet, but several kids held her pinned to the ground. Now nearly all of the children in the school had crowded forward to see what the commotion was about.
Thinking of Chet, Marcus set his feet and bared his teeth. Just because he couldn’t use magic didn’t mean he couldn’t fight back.
The boy pulled up his sleeve, and a second later, a blast of pain shot through Marcus’s body. He tried to run forward, but his legs wouldn’t move.
“Say good-bye to your dog. There won’t even be enough of him left to bury when I’m done with him.”
“Let him go!” Kyja screamed. She scratched at one of the boys holding her; he slugged her in the stomach. Marcus growled in rage, and a wall of red flames rose up out of the ground. Eyes wide with fear, the boy and his friends backed up against the rest of the crowd. The kids who’d been holding Kyja released her and moved away as well. The wall that had started a few feet high continued to grow, turning from red to green. Five feet, then ten, then twenty.
“Stop it,” Kyja called. “That’s enough.”
But Marcus couldn’t stop it. Didn’t even know how he’d started it. This was fire magic, and he had no idea how to use fire magic.
Then, just as quickly as it had arisen, the wall of flames disappeared.
“What’s going on here?” asked a stern voice.
Marcus turned to see a Keeper staring down at him.
Chapter 15
What You Can’t See
Well?” the Keeper asked, his eyes glaring at the group. “What is all this commotion about?”
At the Keeper’s stare, the crowd fell back, eyes looking at the ground or off in the distance. None dared meet the man’s gaze. Slowly, Kyja got to her feet and eased her way through the other boys and girls.
“Don’t make me ask again,” the Keeper said, his hand going to the silver coil at his hip. “I have no time to trifle with you today.”
“It was the girl,” said the boy Marcus had bit. “She says she’s a visitor, but she doesn’t have a brand.”
“She’s a lowbal,” the girl called.
Kyja pushed her way more quickly through the group, hoping to make an escape. The last few feet would leave her exposed, but she had no choice. Ducking her head she hurried to the corner of the building, expecting to hear the Keeper shout, “Halt!” at any moment.
“Girl?” the Keeper’s eyes narrowed. “What girl?”
“There,” the boy pointed to the spot where Kyja had been—then realized she was gone.
Standing out of sight of the Keeper, Kyja waved, trying to catch Marcus’s attention. Finally, he noticed her and disappeared in a forest of legs.
“Where is this girl?” the Keeper roared. Several of the younger children began to cry.
“Hurry,” Kyja mouthed silently.
“She . . . she had a dog,” the boy whimpered, and Marcus made a break for the school wall.
“Come on,” Kyja whispered as Marcus reached her. “We have to leave the city now. Where’s the nearest gate?”
“I don’t know,” Marcus said. “I have no idea what the—bark—gates smell like.”
“This way,” called a voice from above. It was Riph Raph. “Hurry! The Keepers are already starting to gather.”
Running as fast as they could, Marcus and Kyja followed the skyte as he led them through alleys and behind buildings.
“Why did you make the fire so big?” Kyja panted.
“I don’t know. I didn’t even mean to cast it.” Marcus slipped on a patch of wet cobblestones and yipped in pain. “Maybe the snifflers did something to me. I don’t seem to have any control over my magic.” His dark little doggy eyes went wide. “What if I’d really hurt one of those kids? What if I’d killed one?”
“It was my fault,” Kyja said. “I should have left when things started to go wrong. I shouldn’t have let them goad me into a fight.” She wondered if the snifflers had somehow taken away Marcus’s ability to control his magic. Not being able to start and stop his spells could be as dangerous as having no magic at all. Maybe even more.
“This way,” Riph Raph called, flying into the open. Ahead, Kyja spotted a gate like the one they’d entered, but this one had no crowds bustling in and out. In fact, there was no one anywhere in sight except for the guards. But there were lots of guards—at least ten. Why would there be more guards at this unused gate than at the main entrance?
Marcus skidded to a halt and raised his nose to the air. “Wait!”
“What is it?” Kyja glanced nervously behind them. How long before the Keepers realized where they were and what Marcus was disguised as?
“We can’t go that way,” Marcus said. “This is the south gate. It leads to the swamp.” He sniffed at the air. “There’s something out there.”
“Hurry up!” Riph Raph called. “If the Keepers warn the guards, you’ll never make it.”
Kyja looked down at Marcus. “What’s out there?”
“Whatever it is,” Riph Raph said, “it can’t be any worse than the Keepers.”
Marcus raised his nose to the air again. “I’m not sure. I don’t—ruff—recognize the smell. But—” All at once he began to shiver, claws rattling against the cobblestones. “I think—I think I’m starting to change.”
“Come on,” Kyja said, making up her mind. “We have to get outside the gate.”
For a moment, she thought Marcus wouldn’t follow. He whined in a very dog-like way, glanced back toward the city, then lowered his head and charged after her.
“Stop!” one of the guards called as they reached the gate. “This isn’t a place for kids. Go to one of the other gates.”
“We can’t.” Kyja looked at Marcus, who was growing more agitated by the minute, trembling and yipping. His change had to be close.
“Why not?” the lead guard asked, studying Marcus closely. “What’s wrong with your dog?”
“The mimicker’s coming!” Riph Raph called from above.
“Mimicker?” one of the guards said, and they all looked toward the alley Marcus and Kyja had just run out of.
“That’s right,” Kyja nodded, realizing what Riph Raph was up to. “It was in a cage, but it got loose.” Several of the guards withdrew their swords. Then a stroke of inspiration hit. “The Keepers are right behind it.”
At the word Keeper, all the guards became noticeably anxious. They turned their attention away from Kyja completely. She took advantage of the moment to race through the gate. A dirt road led into a grove of tall trees with beards of long gray moss. To either side of the road, the ground quickly dropped off to a squishy-looking bog filled with a thick forest of trees and bushes. No sooner had they escaped sight of the guards than Marcus gave a high-pitched arf and changed back into a boy.
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