“I’m all good, Mr. O,” I said. “But I’d appreciate it if I could talk to you after class.”
He cocked an eyebrow, but he nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you then.”
I went back to my desk and cracked a textbook. It was a book Mr. Oliver had given me, and it was way more advanced than what we were studying in this class — the kind of thing I’d be studying in college.
If I ever made it there.
After the forty-five minutes, Mr. Oliver gave us a fifteen minute pep talk-slash-briefing on tomorrow’s topic. He encouraged the rest of the class to read ahead in their book so they’d have a better understanding going into the class. From the reluctant nods around the room, I could tell that no one would.
When the bell finally rang, everyone ran for the door. I waited till they filed out, then approached Mr. Oliver at his desk. He gestured for me to have a seat, then leaned back and steepled his fingers over his chest.
“So, what’s going on, Miles?” he asked. “You look like you just found out there’s no Santa Claus.”
I explained everything to Mr. Oliver, telling him about Mr. Schumacher, the F, and what it meant for my GPA and my potential scholarship. He nodded in understanding.
When I was done, we sat in silence on either side of his desk for a moment, Mr. Oliver nodding thoughtfully. His lips were pursed like they always were when he was thinking, and he was looking at me carefully.
“That’s too bad, Miles, but why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” he asked.
I blinked. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Mr. Oliver spread his hands. “Listen, Miles, I know you were working for that one scholarship. But this failing grade really isn’t that big of a deal. The way you breeze through my class and chemistry, you can get into a lot of great bio programs. A track scholarship is only one route. There’s others, and you know it. So it doesn’t make sense to me why you’re so upset about one little test.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because Mr. Schumacher seems to have it in for me.”
“I can’t say anything about that one way or another,” said Mr. Oliver. “But even if he does, high school is less than a year of the rest of your life. Don’t worry about it, Miles. You’ve got a long and promising future ahead of you.”
I sighed and looked away. A long life. If I didn’t get killed fighting Shadows in some other universe. “Yeah,” I muttered. “I guess.”
Mr. Oliver pointed at me. “There. That. That’s what I’m talking about. Whatever makes you look like that. That’s what’s really bothering you.”
I almost panicked, thinking he knew my secret. But of course, that was ridiculous. He could just see in my face how worried I was.
“It’s nothing, really,” I said with a shrug. “Just sometimes I feel like I’m being forced into this life I don’t want to live. People have got expectations of me. And it’s hard to deal with them, but it’s not just that. It’s that they never asked me if I even want that life.”
“Is this a family thing or a friends thing?”
I chuckled. Definitely not family. “Friends.”
He leaned over earnestly. “Honestly, Miles, maybe you should listen to them.”
I looked at him wide-eyed. “Excuse me?”
“I know your friends,” he said. “Well, I know Sarah at least. And Clarissa, and the guys you hang out with from track. And they’re good people. So ask yourself, are they trying to make you a better person, or a worse one?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Mr. Oliver,” I said, “I’m not…I don’t think you get it. I’m supposed to do things. Things that aren’t just hard. They could be dangerous.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re not getting into trouble, are you, Miles?”
I shook my head quickly. “No, nothing like that. Nothing illegal.” I struggled for the right words to explain. “More like…dangerous to my future. To my goals in life.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what that means,” said Mr. Oliver. “But I’ll just say this: nothing worthwhile comes without risk. And if someone’s telling you to work your butt off now so that you can do better later, I’d say you should listen to them. I wish somebody had said that to me when I was in high school.”
“I don’t think I’m doing a good job of explaining it,” I said. “But I hear what you’re saying. Thanks, Mr. O.”
I got up and left biology, more confused than when I started. I went into the hallway, heading toward the front of the building where my next class was.
And that’s when I found my mom in the school, walking briskly down the hallway.
I stopped short, staring at her dumbfounded.
“Mom?” I asked, confused. “What’s up?”
She didn’t answer, just brushed right by me with a, “Come with me, Miles. Now.”
Like a robot I turned and followed, unable to argue with that tone of voice. The clack of her heels on the linoleum sounded like a soldier marching to battle, and there was no mistaking the purpose in her walk: she meant business.
I realized we were heading for the principal’s office about five seconds before she opened the door and stepped inside. His waiting area was empty, so she went straight to his office and rapped three times on the door.
“Come in?” came Principal Chapman’s confused voice from the other side of the door.
My mom threw the door open and stepped inside. I hesitated only a second before I followed.
“Good afternoon, Principal Chapman,” said my mom with a nod.
“Mrs. Grave,” said Chapman, looking back and forth between me and my mom. I shrugged.
“I wanted to have a word with you about my son’s test yesterday. I found his copy of the test in his bedroom trash this morning, and I couldn’t help but notice that he got almost every single answer wrong.”
Chapman looked at me. I stared down at the floor. I didn’t want him to see me get angry — it could only make this situation worse.
“Well, that’s what I’ve been told by Mr. Schumacher, the teacher who administered the test,” said Chapman uncertainly. He sounded like he felt he was being led into a trap, but couldn’t see the jaws closing.
My mom thrust the paper forward. “This is the test,” she said. “Care to take a look at a few of the answers for me?”
Chapman took the paper, scanning it quickly. Then his eyes stopped their skimming and focused. His brow furrowed, and his lips pursed.
Chapman lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I see.”
“Yes,” said my mom evenly. “I believe you understand the problem.”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want my son getting any special treatment,” said my mom. “But I think you can agree that this needs to be looked into. This is the second time that this teacher, Schumacher, has seemed to have it in for my son. I don’t think I need to tell you how that looks from my perspective, or what would happen if it were true. It would be the easiest case my firm has ever taken on.”
Mister Chapman closed his eyes, bearing a sudden and remarkable resemblance to a man in prayer. “I can assure you, that will not be necessary, Mrs. Grave. I’ll have the matter investigated, I promise you.”
“I believe you,” said my mom. “But like I said, no special treatment, either. I’ll be just as upset if he starts coming home with straight A’s in history. I just want him to get the same shot as every other student in this school.”
“He’ll get it,” Chapman nodded. Then he turned to look at me. “Miles, I’m sorry about this. Obviously, I had no idea. Why didn’t you say anything?”
I balked. The real reason? I didn’t want Mr. Schumacher to bring up the biology test from a couple of weeks ago, because then you might have figured out that I was helping my girlfriend cheat. Other than that, no reason!
“I didn’t want to cause any more trouble than I was already in,” I mumbled unconvincingly.
Chapman held up the test. “Well, if some
thing like this happens again, I want you to bring it straight to me, do you understand?” I nodded. “You probably already know by now that life isn’t fair. But if you don’t give the people in charge a chance to make it right, then we can’t do anything about that.”
My mom’s steely gaze found me. “That’s an excellent point, Principal Chapman. And that goes double for me, you understand?”
I nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”
She nodded. “Good. I think we’re done here.” With a final hard look, she left Chapman behind and exited the office. I scurried after her.
“So…” I said uncomfortably once we were in the hallway, stalking back toward the front of the school.
“So, what?” she said.
“Thanks.”
We hit the front doors and walked out onto the school’s wide front steps. She stopped and turned to me. “Don’t think this means you aren’t still grounded, because you are. And not because of the grade — I’d never ground you for a grade — but because you blew up in class. You need to learn self-control.”
“Okay,” I nodded.
“You’ve gotta take responsibility for the actions of people around you, not just your own,” she continued. “Otherwise you’re just a victim, and nobody respects that. And I’m not going to come in every time and save your bacon. There are better ways to handle a situation than throwing chairs and yelling. You understand?” She pointed an accusing finger at me.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. Despite myself, I couldn’t stop a smile from spreading.
Fortunately, I saw a little smirk on her face as well. “Wipe that grin off your face,” she said wryly. “You’re still grounded, remember?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, forcing my mouth into a dour scowl.
That got a quick bark of laughter. “Get back to class,” she said.
I turned to go, but then I changed my mind. I reached out and pulled her into a strong hug, squeezing her tight.
“Thank you.” I truly meant it.
“You’re welcome, baby. Now get on upstairs.”
I woke up in Midrealm the next morning. Or that night, depending on how you looked at it.
I got up, got dressed and went down to the great hall, where I was served a nice breakfast. Melaine stood stonily behind my chair. She might as well have been a boulder, for all the talking she didn’t do.
The Runehold seemed especially huge and empty. The others were on the road, I knew, out there trying to reach the tomb of Malus. I hoped they were all right.
Despite the hollow silence of the Runehold, I was having trouble collecting my thoughts. I considered going to meditate, but gave up the thought with a grimace. The last thing I wanted to do right now was sit in a room staring at a cup and thinking about nothing.
Instead, I got up and went to the stables. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Melaine simply didn’t come with me, but to my slight surprise she followed as I asked for a horse. I turned to her.
“You want one, too?” I asked.
“If my Lord rides, I must accompany him,” she said, her face a mask of passiveness.
“Two horses,” I corrected. The stablehand scurried off to fetch them.
Melaine and I waited in silence until the mounts were brought forth. I found it hard to meet her gaze. It was obvious how much she wanted to be out there with the others. Only her oaths bound her to stay by my side.
Once we mounted up, I struck out through the streets of Morrowdust, heading for the city wall. Once we left the city gate, I picked up the pace, goading the horse into a easy canter as we ate up ground. Melaine kept pace easily with me, but still no words were spoken.
I didn’t know where I wanted to go, but soon I found myself leading us to the gate of Elladorn. And once I entered the town, I knew where I was going.
I led Melaine to the entrance to Jada’s tomb. We tethered the horses at the top and descended the steps, entering the passage that led to where her sarcophagus was. Just inside, I pulled a torch from the wall to guide our way. Once we were in the burial chamber, I used it to light the other torches that lined the walls on both sides.
I ended up on the other side of the room, right next to Jada’s sarcophagus. I studied her stone face. The catacomb had been undisturbed for so long that her features were in as perfect a condition as they must have been when they were first carved. It was a funny thing. In movies and paintings and whatnot, whenever you’ve got a statue or a memorial to someone, they’re always carved to look their absolute best. Like a movie star or a supermodel. But to my eyes, Jada wasn’t very pretty. Her nose was too long and pointy. Her cheekbones sagged. She looked dignified, but definitely not beautiful. It was as though the artist who’d been responsible for capturing her likeness had gone to great lengths to make sure he got it exactly right, without any embellishments that could have made her look just a little bit better in death.
In a way, it was nice. It felt like it was easier to relate to her as a real person, instead of some mythical being from history.
I turned back to the catacomb, delighting in the sound of the underground streams pouring through it. I toyed with them idly, flipping the water around and around in the air as it flowed.
Melaine finally broke her long silence, sounding annoyed. “May I ask what we’re doing here?”
“I don’t really know,” I admitted. “I guess I need to think. It’s peaceful down here. They picked a really great spot to bury her. She must have been someone really special.”
Melaine’s face softened slightly. Very slightly. But before she could open her mouth to reply, I heard the sound of a tolling bell above.
I looked toward the sound curiously. “That’s weird. Is that the hour’s bell? I thought it was closer to three thirty.”
But the bell didn’t stop at four. Or five, six, or even twelve. It just kept ringing, and ringing, and ringing.
“Something’s wrong,” I said. Melaine’s hand strayed to her sword hilt as if by instinct.
We ran up the stairs to where our horses lay waiting. The streets of Elladorn were packed with men, women and children, staring up at the ringing bell tower in dumb fascination.
“What is it?” I asked a man standing nearby.
He turned to me, saw my robes, and dropped into a bow. “Begging pardon, milord,” he said. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I said. “Why’s the alarm going?”
“I’ve heard nothing to trouble us here,” he said, looking up at the bell again anxiously. “I think it’s to do with Morrowdust.”
I looked at Melaine and saw the same anxiety on her face that I felt on mine. “The others,” I said.
We mounted up and struck out for Morrowdust at a hard gallop. It was mid afternoon, the sun slowly approaching the horizon, shining right into my eyes. I squinted, gritting my teeth and baring it.
The others were fine. They had to be. It wasn’t like anything serious could have happened. I’m sure I’d know, if it had.
We thundered through the streets of Morrowdust. But I didn’t make it to the stables. In the front courtyard of the Runehold, I found the others.
All of them were there, along with Greystone and the Runegard. But something was wrong. Other men, men I didn’t recognize in brown robes, moved around them. Darren’s leg was bleeding, and two of the men in brown robes were putting pressure on it. His teeth were gritted with pain and his face was deathly white, but he didn’t make a sound. Blade had a bandage over one eye, and it was already soaked through with red. Tess was sitting on the ground, arms around her knees, shaking uncontrollably. Sarah was sitting with her, arm around her shoulder. Sarah’s face was filthy, and she had a bruise on one cheek.
Then Blade looked up and saw me.
“You!” he shouted. He got to his feet, wincing. But he didn’t hesitate as he strode over to me and shoved me in the chest. Hard. I slammed back into my horse’s side.
“Hope you’ve been enjoying your freaking vacation!�
� Blade roared.
“Blade, calm down,” Sarah said, getting up and walking toward us.
“I’m not doing anything,” Blade said, his eyes never leaving my face. “I’m just asking this guy if he’s been having a good time while we’ve been out there fighting for his life.” He shoved me again.
“Knock it off!” said Sarah.
“Why should he?” Raven approached, hands on her hips and nostrils flaring. “Blade’s right, Sarah. He’s got every reason to be angry. Don’t tell me you’re fine with Miles sitting here playing patty-cake while we’re actually, you know, doing something?”
Tess was looking up at the bunch of us, uncomfortable. Calvin couldn’t even look at me. He sat cross-legged on the ground beside Darren, staff held limp in his hand.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but Sarah shoved a warning finger in my face. “Don’t. Just. Don’t.” She turned to the others. “Blade, go let the healers take another look at your eyebrow. Raven, take care of Tess. Make sure she’s okay.”
Both of them looked like they were about to keep arguing, but Sarah stared them down. With a final dirty look, the two of them left to do as they were told.
Sarah tossed her head at the Runehold’s front gate. “Come on,” she said. “Outside.”
“Is there anything I can — ”
“We should get you outside,” she said flatly. “The others are ticked off, and I don’t want emotions any higher than they already are.”
I was shocked. It was like I was seeing Sarah in a new light. There was a hardness to her face that I’d never seen there before. Her voice wasn’t cold, but it didn’t invite any argument, either. She sounded like my mom.
“Sarah, what happened out there?”
She led the way through the gate and didn’t turn to answer until I’d followed. “We reached the tomb,” she said. “Chaos was already there. We were trying to stay out of sight on the other side of the moat, scouting the place while we figured out what we wanted to do.
“That’s when we got ambushed. Raven was in the sky, so she saw it coming a few minutes in advance. She came down to warn us, but by then it was almost too late. They swept in on either side and behind us, so we couldn’t just run away. Pretty soon we were pressed up against the edge of the water and couldn’t fight our way free. Nestor’s men fought as best they could, but it just wasn’t enough.”
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