The Schism (The Broken Prism Book 4)

by V. St. Clair

  Asher shook his head to clear it and brightened.

  “Sorry, I’m being maudlin. Let’s continue on a more cheerful note.” He walked to the next room.

  True to his word, Asher only shared humorous stories for the remainder of the visit, showing them around every room in the house while surreptitiously checking hiding places he must have known about for signs of Aleric’s magic. It was more than Hayden had ever really heard anyone share about his father at one time, and he tried to absorb everything, adding to his mental picture of who the man had been before his days as the Dark Prism. Still, by the time they left the Frost estate that night, the only story that really stood out in his head was the one he’d heard back in the formal dining room.

  Asher must have been able to read his silence, because after they dropped everyone else back off at their respective destinations, he motioned for Zane to go on inside and asked for a private word with Hayden.

  “Did you find anything suspicious while we were at the house?” Hayden interrupted before he could speak, not sure he was ready to put his feelings into words just yet.

  His mentor allowed the change of subject.

  “No, though I don’t doubt there are still things hidden around the place. I’d have to do a more exhaustive search to even hope of finding any of them; the Council seems to have picked off all the obvious things.”

  “Oh, well you’re welcome to stop by when you find yourself with limitless leisure time to look for corrupt magic,” Hayden said. “Not that I really expect to find the Black Prism hidden under a couch or anything, but let me know if I need to bleed on anything to see if it opens up for me.”

  “I’m never sure if I want to find the Black Prism or not,” Asher admitted. “On the one hand, it’s an evil relic that should be destroyed. I don’t like to think of it lost somewhere in the world, sitting on some ignoramus’s bookshelf gathering dust, waiting for someone to come along who understands the value of it.” He frowned. “On the other hand, finding such a priceless instrument comes with its own set of temptations. I’m the curious sort—you know as well as I do that I’d be tempted to at least examine it before destroying the thing, and having examined it…who’s to say it won’t tempt me in some way to use it?” He shuddered.

  Hayden considered that for a long moment.

  “I don’t know…I’d still trust you with it more than any of our friends on the Council of Mages. I believe you would destroy it properly, even if you looked at it for a minute first. But them? They’d probably try to preserve it as an artifact, or study it, or use it as a threat to keep people in line…”

  Asher waved a hand to concede the point and said, “Sorry if I bothered you with my reminiscing today. I didn’t think the memories would come to me so powerfully just from visiting the place, but it stirred up a lot of things I haven’t thought about in years.”

  Hayden shrugged. “No, I like hearing about how my father was before the Dark Prism part of his life—that’s all anyone else ever wants to talk about. But at the same time, it’s really depressing to hear how he was, knowing what he became. Hearing what a good friend he was to you, and then realizing that that person somehow changed into the one that tried to kill you and everyone else he was angry at…it just makes me realize more and more that it could really happen to anyone who isn’t careful with their magic. It’s a sobering thought.”

  Asher nodded.

  “I can’t imagine being so lost in my own head. It’s the main reason I’m not looking forward to entering the schism, in the event we can’t find anyone else to close it and it doesn’t go on its own.”

  Hayden jumped as though startled.

  “You can’t volunteer to go into that horrible thing! Your left Foci might be damaged enough to withstand the effects for a while, but your right one is completely intact!”

  Asher looked like he was debating whether to share his next thought with him. Finally he reached some internal decision and said, “Yes, but the Council is becoming increasingly desperate. I’d shield you from the truth, but you’ll hear about it when you return to school anyway—the rumor mill is unstoppable around that place.” He sighed.

  “What’s happened now?” Hayden asked with mounting dread.

  “As you correctly pointed out, it would be really helpful to have two damaged Foci before tackling the schism, so some genius on the Council came up with a way to solve that problem…”

  Having a sudden, sickening idea where this was going, Hayden said, “Tell me they didn’t.”

  Asher nodded. “I’m afraid so. They attempted to warp the Foci of a—I suppose he was a volunteer—badly enough to need extensive correction, but not so badly that he couldn’t perform magic any longer.”

  “Did it work?” Hayden had a horrible feeling that he knew the answer before he even asked.

  “Their first volunteer was permanently crippled—magically speaking, that is. The second changed her mind halfway through, after suffering the excruciating agony of having one of her Foci overwhelmed by magic.”

  He frowned and added, “The third died.”

  “They killed someone?” Hayden asked, aghast.

  “Not intentionally, I’m sure.” Asher said, though he scowled. “It’s not the kind of thing anyone has tried to do on purpose before, and it’s certainly not an exact science. I don’t believe there has been a fourth attempt yet—they’re likely running low on volunteers at this point.”

  “No kidding,” Hayden mumbled darkly.

  “That being said, before they can get to the lunacy of making the volunteerism mandatory, several of us Masters will likely take a stab at it, if only to delay the inevitable for a while longer.”

  “Can they actually force people to endure torture so that they can be thrown into a schism and told to fend for themselves?” Hayden asked in disbelief.

  “Not legally, but you know how these things go. Who can argue that a person didn’t volunteer except for the victim themselves? And if they aren’t in any condition to remember the events leading up to it, or if they’re in no condition to speak of them…”

  “Great, something new to have nightmares about,” Hayden grumbled. “They’ll really do anything to avoid having to go inside the schism themselves, won’t they? Can’t they be overthrown and replaced with better leaders?”

  Asher shrugged and said, “They aren’t the first rulers to scamper to the top of the food chain on the backs of the common mage, and they won’t be the last, I’m sure. The best we can do is work around them until they die off or are replaced by better people. Anyway, sorry to give you nightmares—I’ll leave you to get what rest you can.”

  And with that, he was gone.

  Hayden slept poorly that night, and found the rest of his holiday much less enjoyable than the first part, though Bonk occasionally brought him dead squirrels in what he supposed was a gesture to cheer him up.

  It was almost a relief to get back to Mizzenwald, if only because he stayed so busy during the school year that it was much harder to find time to dwell on his darker thoughts. He told Zane and Tess what Master Asher had shared with him regarding the new plan of attack by the Council of Mages, and they shared in his horror at the thought of someone willfully warping their Foci.

  “How do they even go about it?” Zane wondered out loud in the fifth-year common area on the night of their return to school, spearing a marshmallow on a stick and holding it over the fireplace to toast it.

  “Well, most Foci damage is caused by trying to force way more magic through them than what they can handle, like what happened to Hayden on the day his parents died,” Tess explained gently, glancing at his Focus correctors. “Obviously Hayden’s case was an extreme example, but I imagine it didn’t feel very nice having your magical conduits overwhelmed—which is probably why they’re not having a hard time finding people who are willing to try it.”

  Hayden recalled what he could about his light-sickness, the searing pain shooting through his arms as though he
was being burned alive from the inside out, the blinding, stabbing sensation in his head, the nausea and vomiting…

  “Honestly, it was mortal agony, and I can’t even remember it all that well,” he admitted. “I think it was so terrible that my mind blocked the worst of it from my memory, but what I can recall was the absolute worst pain I’ve ever endured in my life—and that’s saying something, because I get my butt kicked by someone or something almost daily since I started coming to school here.”

  Zane chuckled in appreciation of his humor, but still looked nauseous at the thought of light-sickness.

  “Obviously the people signing up for it don’t know just how awful it is until they experience it for themselves,” he shuddered, causing his marshmallow to fall of the stick and into the flames. Scowling, he situated a new one on the stick and tried again.

  “You know, eventually the word is going to get out about the poor results of their Focus experiments, and the Council is going to run out of options,” Zane frowned. “I don’t envy their position right now; it’s not like they have much of a chance of closing the thing themselves, but if they don’t somehow manage it then they’re going to get the blame for leaving a schism open in the middle of a school for magic.”

  “That’s still no reason to force mages to risk their lives, or damage their Foci irreparably, just to save their careers,” Tess argued with a scowl.

  “I’m not saying it is,” Zane countered lightly, “just that it must be a tough position to be in.”

  “I think I’m going to bed,” Hayden announced after dropping his third marshmallow into the flames and taking it as a sign to quit trying. “I haven’t been sleeping really well, and the Masters won’t go easy on us in classes tomorrow even though it’s our first day back.”

  His friends bade him goodnight, and he returned to his dorm room alone, considering whether he should review some of his notes tonight or just save it all for tomorrow. Knowing he was likely to regret not brushing up on his reading, he still decided to turn in early for the night, vowing to study extra hard during his breaks the following day.

  Hayden reviewed his notes for Abnormal Magic during breakfast the following morning, because Master Laurren had joked about springing a test on them as soon as they came back from summer holiday. Hayden knew the Master well enough by now to suspect that he probably wasn’t joking, so it seemed prudent to review his notes during breakfast just in case he was right.

  He was on his way to the basement where Abnormal Magic was held when Oliver Trout stopped him in the Pentagon.

  “Hey, Frost,” he grabbed Hayden’s arm roughly, pulling him out of the main flow of traffic as students hurried off to their first period class.

  “Ow—let go of me,” Hayden jerked his arm back, preparing for a confrontation.

  “I’m in a hurry so I’ll make this quick,” Oliver ignored his pique. “Don’t show up to lunch today,” he said bluntly, glancing at his chrono.

  “What?” Hayden asked, taken aback by the random request. “Why not?”

  “I have to go,” Oliver took a step away without answering, and this time Hayden was the one grabbing his arm to stop him.

  “You can’t just tell me something random and not explain yourself,” he insisted angrily. “How am I supposed to make it to dinner without eating all day? All I had for breakfast was toast.”

  “Not my problem,” Oliver shrugged him off. “Do whatever you want.” And with that he walked away.

  Hayden looked at his chrono and saw that he was almost late for class. Cursing under his breath, he hurried through the stream of other stragglers who were trying to make it to their lessons on time, taking the stairs down to the basement three at a time and barely making it to his seat before Master Laurren began speaking.

  “Welcome back, everyone, and I hope you enjoyed your break,” he greeted them pleasantly, holding up a large stack of papers in one hand. “To celebrate your return, I thought we’d start with a test to see how much knowledge you managed to forget during the last few weeks.”

  There were surprised, angry mutters all through the class, but Hayden just smiled grimly, thankful for his earlier foresight. As the Master passed out their tests, Hayden mulled over his conversation with Oliver.

  Why in the world does he want me to skip lunch today?

  Maybe there was something really tasty on the menu, and Oliver simply wanted to deny him the pleasure of eating it? No, that didn’t seem terribly likely, or he surely would have tried it before now. As much as he still disliked the elder Trout, Hayden had thought they were beginning to develop some sort of mutual respect for each other recently, especially since living under the same roof all winter. Heck, he had toured Oliver through his estate just a week ago, and they’d been perfectly civil to each other.

  He didn’t have much more time to ruminate on the older boy’s motives when Laurren handed him a packet of papers with six essay questions to answer by the end of the class period. Grimacing at how sore his hand was soon going to be, Hayden pushed all other thoughts from his head and got to work.

  He thought he did alright on the test—at least he was able to answer all the questions to some extent, unlike Harrison, who panicked halfway through, burst into tears, and ran from the room screaming.

  “There’s one every year,” was all Master Laurren had said in response to the outburst, without even looking up from the book he was reading.

  Unfortunately, Hayden didn’t do nearly as well in Elixirs, which was so difficult this year that he suspected he was going to have to repeat the level-four class next year if he decided to stick with it. Master Kilgore confirmed his suspicions when he held up the phial of Hayden’s Elixir of Warding at the end of class and said, “This looks like urine.”

  Not sure what to say, Hayden answered, “Well, it isn’t, sir.”

  Kilgore snorted and set the phial on his desk. “Might as well be—I doubt this is any more useful.”

  “Feel free not to tell me my grade on this assignment for a few days,” Hayden volunteered dryly, “I’d like to stay in a good mood for as long as I can this week.”

  The Master of Elixirs chuckled and said, “I’ll miss having you in my class next year, Frost. You’re a pleasure to teach, even if you accidentally made distilled urine instead of an Elixir of Warding.”

  Frowning, Hayden said, “You’re kicking me out next year?”

  The Master looked surprised at being asked.

  “I can’t kick you out unless I can prove it’s dangerous to leave you in my class. I just assumed you would drop Elixirs at the end of the year, seeing as you likely won’t be able to progress further in it, and focus on your other strengths.”

  Hayden tilted his head thoughtfully and said, “I could use a free period next year—what with all my homework, mastery assignments, research, and running my estate, I barely have time to sleep as is.”

  “The price of excellence,” Kilgore nodded solemnly. “We Masters typically get one night off a month, and recently not even that.” He sighed. “Run along to your next class so I can dump this mess down the drain when you’re gone.” He gestured to Hayden’s elixir.

  Hayden grimaced and excused himself, hurrying off to his level-five Healing class, where he was confident he would have a much easier time.

  At least I’m pretty sure I won’t accidentally make urine in this lesson.

  While Mistress Razelle didn’t recommend that he drop her class, it was not one of Hayden’s better days in Healing. By the time the lesson was over, he was grumpy and ravenously hungry. He had forgotten Oliver’s warning entirely until he entered the dining hall and sat down to eat with his usual group of friends. Only then did he remember the older boy’s strange request that morning, and he glanced around the room until he caught sight of him. Oliver met his gaze and shrugged as though to say, It’s not my problem, his face inscrutable.

  “What’s up?” Zane asked, following Hayden’s line of sight until Oliver turned back to his frie
nds and resumed eating.

  “I’m not sure,” Hayden admitted. “Oliver told me not to come to lunch today, but he wouldn’t say why.” He glanced around the room, but everything seemed normal. Even the food was unexceptional today. “I guess he was just playing a prank on me or something.” He shrugged and began eating.

  “You think he’d be over that by now, especially since you two fought in a war together.” Zane rolled his eyes.

  “Well, apparently he isn’t.” Hayden waved a dismissive hand, changing the subject by telling them about how he probably wouldn’t be continuing in Elixirs next year after the fiasco with his Elixir of Warding this morning.

  The others laughed and offered condolences at the same time, and Hayden was rather enjoying himself until Master Willow called for everyone’s attention from the front of the room.

  Surprised by the interruption, Hayden and everyone else fell silent and turned to the Master of Wands, who was looking unusually grim for some reason. When the room was quiet, he addressed them collectively.

  “We have some unexpected guests who will be joining us for the remainder of lunch today,” he explained tonelessly, gesturing towards the door. As if on cue, a large group of people filed into the room and walked down the center aisle to join Master Willow at the back of the hall on the slightly raised platform. Master Graus moved among them, throwing down several hastily-drawn scriptures, which transformed into long wooden tables and chairs for each of the newcomers to sit at.

  Hayden’s stomach felt like it was full of lead as he watched the visitors enter the room. There was the High Mayor of Junir and Fia Valay, a family that Hayden had never seen before—at least, he assumed the woman and man were married and that the nine-year old girl was their daughter—following behind, two men carrying enough knives and swords to raid a small village, and every single member of the Council of Mages.

  He met Oliver’s gaze again, though the older boy still looked neutral.

  Uh oh, this can’t be good…