The Schism (The Broken Prism Book 4)

by V. St. Clair

  Both boys nodded to show their understanding, and when Lorn started running at him, Hayden dropped into the first stance that came to mind and braced himself. Lorn crashed into him with slightly less force than usual, which was good, because Hayden was knocked flat onto his back as it was.

  Grendel helped him to his feet without looking surprised or disappointed.

  “Not the ideal stance for that bout; tell me why.”

  Testing his arms and legs to make sure his back wasn’t injured, Hayden replied, “Um, because he ducked down low before he hit me, which put all of his weight at my middle?”

  “Exactly right.” Grendel nodded approvingly. “What would a better choice have been?”

  Hayden showed him rather than explaining, and the Master nodded again.

  “Alright you two, line back up and let’s go again.”

  They spent another hour like that, with Lorn attacking him in different ways and Hayden doing his best to keep from getting annihilated. His entire body ached from being repeatedly pummeled and he knew it would be a hundred times worse the next morning, but he couldn’t deny that he was making good progress by the time they called an end to the session; he’d managed to stay on his feet and block the last six of Lorn’s attacks.

  “Good work boys,” Master Grendel motioned for them to retrieve their things from the cubby. “Same time tomorrow.”

  And with that he walked off, leaving Hayden and Lorn to their own devices. Both boys stumped off wearily back towards the house, sweating and exhausted. Neither of them felt the need to speak to the other, and they parted ways as soon as they entered the house, Hayden in search of a shower and Lorn to the kitchen.

  When Hayden was finished cleaning up he tracked down Bonk and they went in search of a snack. He almost changed his mind about eating when he walked into the kitchen and saw Mrs. Trout reviewing the inventory with one of the cooks. She caught sight of him before he could retreat, and Hayden had no choice but to step inside and greet her.

  “Hello, I was just wondering if I could get something to eat.” He looked between her and the cook.

  “I’ll make you a sandwich,” the latter set down her ledger and moved about the room gathering ingredients.

  “I can make it if you’re busy; I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said awkwardly, and Mrs. Trout pursed her lips at him in mild annoyance for offering to do servants’ work.

  “It’s no trouble at all,” the cook continued working without looking up, and Hayden sighed and left her to it. With his sandwich in hand, Hayden pulled off a piece of ham for Bonk and slipped out of the kitchen, intending to eat in his room where he didn’t have to worry about dealing with others when he was mentally and physically exhausted.

  Unfortunately, Magdalene Trout followed him out of the room and began assigning him more work.

  “Edgar tells me that he’s left your next reading assignment in your room. Be sure to complete it tonight and take notes on what it means to you before your next meeting in the morning. He said you made fair progress today, but you’re going to need to really buckle down if you are serious about learning all of the necessary material in time.”

  Hayden barely resisted the urge to tell her to shut up and leave him alone. His brain ached from studying ridiculously difficult concepts all day, and his entire body hurt from spending the last hour getting beaten by Lorn. All he wanted to do was rest.

  What he said instead was, “Alright, I’ll do that.”

  She glanced at him like she had a fair idea of what he was really thinking, but apparently as long as he minded his manners she didn’t feel the need to call him out for his thoughts.

  “Did you enjoy your training session with Grendel?” she changed the subject abruptly, perhaps deciding to go easy on him at last.

  “Yes, though I think I’ll enjoy it more when I get better at not getting beaten,” he admitted dryly. “Why are you having me trained up in combat, anyway? It’s not like that has anything to do with fulfilling your obligation to help me get my stuff back.”

  Mrs. Trout raised an eyebrow at the question and said, “Oliver told me you could use the help. He said you were good with prisms, but otherwise dreadful at defending yourself.”

  Hayden was surprised that Oliver had noticed his fighting habits, or cared enough to mention it to his mother, though he supposed it was probably pretty obvious when they were fighting in the Forest of Illusions earlier in the year and Hayden performed terribly at the hand-to-hand combat portion.

  “Still, what does it matter to you if I’m a bad fighter?” he pressed, suddenly interested in the answer.

  She looked down at him like he was being deliberately obtuse.

  “You are in sole command of the Frost assets and name. By the time you reach adulthood, you will have a voice in the magical community that cannot be ignored, perhaps even before then if you continue to grow your reputation as you have so far. You will continue to forge alliances with other prominent mages, and your word will carry weight.”

  Hayden made a face at this, surprised again by her candor.

  “You mean I’ll have a say in matters, like how the Council of Mages is running things?”

  “That is one example, yes. The Great Houses have always had a direct pipeline to the Council, and have lobbied for things they are adamant about.” She shrugged. “The Frosts have always been a highly-respected, powerful clan, and you are the sole surviving heir to it.”

  Hayden thought about that for a moment and then asked, “Does that mean I technically outrank Oliver and Lorn right now in the magical community?”

  “Yes,” she answered simply, “as long as I live, I am the official voice of my family. When I die, Oliver will step into my shoes. You are already the voice of the Frost family name, and will possess all the rights that that entails once you come of age.”

  That was good to know, and Hayden filed the information away in the back of his mind, to think about at some time when he wasn’t oversaturated with other knowledge.

  “That still doesn’t entirely explain why you’re helping me…” he prodded gently.

  “Because unlike Calahan, I am not so foolish as to burn any bridges that I don’t have to,” she explained easily. “As I said, you could prove to be a powerful ally—or enemy—someday, and at this point I’d rather not declare you an enemy.”

  “You’re already thinking ahead to how I might help you in the future?” Hayden admired her foresight.

  “Let us say I haven’t ruled out the possibility that you will be both powerful and useful to me in years to come,” she smirked at the look on his face. “You are beginning to build a reputation for yourself, and to be viewed as more than your father’s son. Now you are a war hero, and if you continue on your current trajectory, I expect that your opinions will carry an enormous amount of clout in the future, at which point everyone will be scrambling to be your friend.”

  “And you will expect me to remember that they are only coming to me when I’m powerful, whereas you helped me while I was still small and insignificant.” Hayden understood the game at last. Truthfully, he wasn’t even upset with her scheming, since she was honest about it, and the fact was that he did need help while he was still figuring things out.

  She tilted her head at him in agreement, and Hayden nodded.

  “I’m beginning to see why the Trout family survived the negative association with my father, and why you’re an important member of the Council of Mages even after.”

  Magdalene gave him a genuine smile then and stopped outside of his bedroom.

  “Enjoy your reading, Hayden.” She inclined her head respectfully and then turned and walked away.

  Hayden grimaced at the books that were stacked at the edge of his bed, with different chapters flagged with slips of paper for him to read. Bonk snorted in a way that let Hayden know he was being laughed at, and then curled up on Hayden’s pillow to go to sleep. Hayden sighed and rummaged around for some paper and a pencil so he could beg
in taking notes, wondering what his friends would think if they could see the glamorous life of Hayden Frost right now.

  After five weeks of this exhausting routine, Hayden had to admit that it was finally getting easier. He couldn’t really say that he was enjoying his time at the Trout estate—after all, Oliver and Lorn still lived here—but he finally began to feel like he had his head above water for a change.

  His all-day lessons with Edgar were as challenging as ever, though he was beginning to get a grasp on the way all those legal books were written, which made understanding the hefty wording a lot easier. He had recently finished his last homework assignment as well, since Edgar declared they had covered all the relevant material for his needs, and they had moved on to doing mock-trials every day, in which Edgar and Mrs. Trout would play the part of the Council of Mages and interrogate him in various ways, trying to trip him up.

  His table manners and professional etiquette had improved by leaps and bounds as well; he hadn’t been smacked in the head by Mrs. Trout in over a week now, and he didn’t even have to think very hard about it anymore in order to get through a meal intact.

  He rarely saw Oliver during his free time, as the older boy was in intensive training of his own these days to prepare him for taking over some of the Trout businesses. Now that he was an adult, he was apparently expected to run some of the lesser accounts to get practice for when his mother was no longer in charge, as well as to get his face out in the community and become better known by the people he was supposed to be managing.

  The nightly training sessions with Lorn had continued for the duration of the five weeks, and Master Grendel drilled them relentlessly for longer and longer periods of time, occasionally keeping them out until well after dark, until they could hardly tell who they were fighting anymore. Hayden was still years behind Lorn in terms of skill and technique, but he had made an enormous amount of improvement and was quite pleased with his overall progress. Despite Mrs. Trout’s willingness to help him improve in hand-to-hand combat, archery, acrobatics, or anything else he might show an interest in, Hayden couldn’t help but notice that she had never once suggested that he use the arena for magical combat, though the rest of the family practiced there daily. Apparently she still had some reservations about encouraging his skill with prisms, or else she just didn’t want to give him a magical upper-hand over her own family by helping him improve.

  Either way, life had taken a definite turn for the better compared to his feelings when he first arrived. Hayden was therefore a little surprised when, on the night before his trial was set to take place in Kargath, Mrs. Trout knocked on his bedroom door just before Hayden planned on going to bed.

  He opened the door, yawning, and struggled to keep himself awake; he hadn’t slept well for the last few days as the trial drew nearer.

  “Am I supposed to be somewhere right now and I just forgot?” he asked Mrs. Trout in confusion, racking his brain to see what he missed, since she only visited him at night when she needed to criticize him for something.

  “No, but as it’s the eve of your trial, there are a few last minute details that we need to see to before we send you off.” She stepped past him into the room without waiting to be invited, followed by an unusually tall man who was carrying a garment bag, a tape measure draped around his neck.

  “Like what?” Hayden helped light a few gas lamps so they could see properly. Now that he looked at the man with the bag more closely, he recognized him—by profession, at least. “What do I need a tailor for?”

  Mrs. Trout pursed her lips—typical when he asked questions that she considered moronic—and said, “You didn’t think you’d be presenting yourself to the Council of Mages in a t-shirt and too-short slacks did you?”

  Hayden didn’t answer this, because it was obvious to both of them that that was exactly what he thought.

  It’s not my fault I haven’t had the time or money to buy myself new pants since last year.

  “Nothing will make them dismiss you so quickly as showing up looking like a teenage boy, asking for favors,” she continued without waiting for a response. “No, you must present yourself as a legitimate heir to a Great House and prove you are serious about your intention to step into that role.”

  “Okay, that makes sense. Seems late to be bringing in the tailor though when the trial is tomorrow; if he’s got to make me an entire suit tonight that’s going to be cutting it close.” He ignored his own pun and hoped she would too.

  “He won’t be making anything new, just doing a few alterations to existing garments if necessary.” She gestured towards the bag, which the tailor opened with flair, as though he was revealing a big treat.

  To Hayden’s surprise, he found himself staring not at a suit, but at formal mage robes. He had never been permitted to wear them before, as there were clear rules about who could don them and on what occasions it was permitted; the closest he had come was wearing the team Mizzenwald robes during his second year at school for the I.S.C. These robes were such a pale blue as to be almost white, bordered by a thick black trim on all sides. The cuffs had some kind of fancy detailing on them that he couldn’t see properly just yet, because Mrs. Trout was handing him the accompanying shirt and pants with instructions to try them on.

  She and the tailor stepped out of the room briefly, and Hayden slipped into the new clothing. The pants fit just right, but the top—which was long-sleeved and made of some kind of stiff fabric he’d never worn before, with a series of buttons trailing diagonally from his left shoulder to the right side of his waist—was quite loose in the shoulder, like it was made for someone much more muscular than him.

  He opened the door to let the others back in, and the tailor immediately began taking measurements and sticking tiny pins into the clothing to mark where it needed to be taken in. When he was finished, Mrs. Trout handed him the robes to complete the look, and Hayden pulled on the lightweight under layer, made of gauzy black fabric. Then he added the thicker, bulkier outer layer that was done in pale blue trimmed in black, which draped all the way to the floor and bunched around his feet.

  Also made for someone taller…

  He wondered if Magdalene had bought these robes on consignment, since they were obviously intended for someone else, but he didn’t want to ask her since she had taken the initiative on his behalf and he didn’t want to sound ungrateful. Even if she had bought them used, they were in remarkably good shape—no stains or tears that he could see.

  “Hmm, the bottom of the outer layer will need to come up an inch or two; Aleric was taller,” Mrs. Trout pointed out casually to the tailor, as though she hadn’t said anything alarming.

  “Wait—what?” Hayden interrupted. “Do you mean that these were made for…”

  “Those are your father’s House robes, yes.” She looked at him like he was being deliberately slow. “Didn’t you notice the detailing on the cuffs?”

  Hayden looked down at his wrists for the first time and saw that the black cuffs were embroidered with intricate detailing surrounding the letter ‘F’ on each side. For a moment he just stared at them dumbly.

  “Those are your House colors,” Mrs. Trout explained, clearly realizing that she needed to back up a step or two. “We wear our House robes for very formal business dealings or for legal proceedings—really anytime that you are acting in an official capacity for your household. I made another pass through the Frost estate today and found those in your father’s closet from before his Dark Prism days. We’re lucky he didn’t see the need to throw them out, or we would have been pressed to recreate a new set in time for your trial.”

  Hayden looked down at his body, feeling strange. He had never been given anything of his father’s before (unless he counted the Magistra’s sigla that he stole from his house last year), and he tried to imagine a young Aleric wearing these same robes, not knowing that in a few years he would become the deranged, soulless Dark Prism.

  Magdalene seemed to know what he was thinking.<
br />
  “I don’t deny that many people will compare you to your father when you walk into the chambers tomorrow, but the association is unavoidable.” She shrugged. “Quite frankly, people need to get over it and accept that while you may resemble him in certain ways, you are not Aleric Frost.”

  “Reminding them of my father isn’t going to make them more likely to give me his stuff back though, is it?” Hayden asked quietly.

  “Not if you act ashamed of your tie to him,” she warned. “If you walk in there with your head held high, claim your rights, and offer no apologies, then I think it could actually benefit you.”

  Surprised, Hayden raised an eyebrow and said, “You are the first person to ever tell me that associating myself with the Dark Prism could be a good thing.”

  She smirked at that. “Like it or not, your father was immensely powerful and intelligent, not to mention resourceful and ambitious—even before his dark years. Your grandfather was not magically inclined at all and still managed to become one of the richest men on the continent. Your grandmother forged more political alliances than anyone I know, your great aunt mastered all five of the major arcana, your great uncle was the youngest person to ever chair the Council of Mages, and so forth.” She paused to let that sink in. “That is the reputation you should be leaning on, rather than letting people focus on what your father chose to do with his gifts. You come from a long line of famously talented people, that’s what those robes mean.”

  For the first time, Hayden felt truly connected to the Frost family, staring down at his appearance and trying to feel entitled. It made him wish (not for the first time) that any of his other family members had survived so he could get to know them.

  “Now get those off so that we can have them altered and ready for you in the morning,” Magdalene returned promptly to her usual brisk, businesslike tone. “And try to get some sleep tonight, though I know it will be difficult. You need to be well-rested and at the top of your game if you’re going to stand a chance in there tomorrow. Also, wear your Medal of Heroism from the battle in the Forest of Illusions; you’re entitled to show your honors and it will help your case.”