The Schism (The Broken Prism Book 4)

by V. St. Clair

  “You’re not worried about roaming around on your own in this place with all these monsters lurking around? I was crossing an open field with my two companions and we were set upon by a huge cockatrice that nearly killed us all.”

  “I haven’t met a monster yet that I couldn’t take in battle,” he explained easily, cocksure in his abilities. He looked back briefly and said, “I thought you only had the one traveling companion with you.”

  Hayden remained silent until he had moved up the next set of rocks and was sure of his footing.

  “No, there were two of them, but Harold died back at a fork in the road. We disagreed about which path we should take when the ley lines split, and he didn’t want to go through the swamps so he took the other path instead. He fell into some wicked quicksand almost immediately after that.”

  “Well at least he didn’t suffer—that stuff crushes you almost instantly. You’d never survive long enough to suffocate. It’s really not a bad way to die,” Hunter opined casually, seemingly unaffected by the horrible death.

  I’m not sure Harold would agree with you, Hayden thought privately. Then again, if Hunter had been living in this plane for this entire life, he had probably seen much worse things than quicksand.

  It took them hours to reach the top of the rockslide, and about half as long to descend the other end, where it was much easier to slip and slide off of the rocks if they weren’t careful. They kept up a steady stream of conversation the entire time, which helped keep Hayden’s mind off of the horrible burning in his Foci and the generally beat-up shape of the rest of his body. His recently-bandaged hands were bleeding through their dressings from all the climbing, but he didn’t dare slow down or call for a break; with every twinge of his Foci he could feel his time running out.

  As soon as they were safely down on the ground, Hayden caught sight of the ley lines again and frowned as they continued on into the distance and disappeared from sight.

  “Do these things ever end?” he groaned, setting off at a shambling pace, bone weary. “At this rate I’ll never make it to the exit.”

  “Perhaps we should rest for a while—you look like you’re going to keel over at any moment,” Hunter suggested, slowing down his own pace to match Hayden’s.

  “I can’t afford to stop; I have to get there before I forget why I came here or what I’m supposed to be doing. Enough people have already come in here and died—and I don’t intend to be next on that list.”

  He was already getting lurches of emotion he couldn’t control or understand, crashing over him like a tidal wave and flooding his senses until they crested and subsided. He found himself resenting people he knew were his friends, or imagining them dead and feeling complete apathy at the thought of it. He knew it wasn’t right—that it wasn’t how he should be feeling—but there was nothing he could do to change it. If he ever lost the ability to know that his thoughts weren’t his own, he would be as doomed as his father.

  “You can’t go on forever. At least take an hour to sleep and then I’ll wake you so we can move on. I swear you, kid, if I have to carry you on my back, I’ll get you to the end of the ley lines.”

  He set his jaw firmly, and Hayden knew that he absolutely meant every word he said, that Hunter valued his promises and would do anything to keep them. The way he said it reminded Hayden a little of how he himself must look and sound at his most stubborn.

  “Well…if you’re sure…”

  It would be good to rest—his eyelids were already drooping heavily, and he was barely able to stay on his feet. Maybe a short nap would give him the boost he needed to plow through the rest of this journey to the end of the stupid ley lines so he could escape this horrible place.

  “Just settle down right there; you can use this to keep warm.” Hunter passed him a tightly-rolled blanket made of rawhide from his pack. “I’ll keep watch for animals and make sure we’re not attacked.”

  Feeling achy and muddled, Hayden did as he was told and collapsed heavily on the hard ground, trying to get comfortable on the dry clay as he pulled the blanket over him. His head was resting uncomfortably on the ground, and his Foci still felt like they were on fire, but somehow he fell asleep almost immediately.

  16

  The Vanishing Prism

  It felt like he had barely closed his eyes when Hunter shook him awake and told him it had been an hour. Groaning, Hayden struggled to focus his mind and forced himself to his feet; sleeping on the hard, dry ground with about a dozen different injuries bothering him hadn’t been exactly ideal, but it was better than nothing.

  He wasn’t sure if he felt more or less tired as he staggered upright and took in the depressing sight of the angry, purple-black sky. While sleeping, he had managed to convince himself that this whole experience was just a bad dream, though he had also been plagued by a series of odd, disturbing thoughts and images that left him mentally exhausted. Now awake, he was forced to confront his fear and pain directly, the knowledge that his time was rapidly running out unless he could make it to the end of this road.

  “Feeling any better?” Hunter asked politely, setting off at a brisk pace that woke Hayden up properly.

  “Eh,” he shrugged, noncommittal. “I’ll feel fantastic if we can ever find the end of these ley lines.”

  Hunter tilted his head in acknowledgement and continued through the pass. Keen to keep up the dialogue—since it helped distract him—Hayden asked, “If we get to the exit, you could come through with me before the portal closes for good.”

  His companion glanced over at him in surprise, eyebrows raised at this new idea.

  “Why would I want to leave the only place I’ve ever known?”

  “Uh, because it sucks?” Hayden offered sarcastically. “Besides, you told me you’re an adventurer. What could possibly be more exciting than visiting an entirely different world?”

  Hunter frowned thoughtfully at that, considering the offer for a long moment in silence.

  Finally he said, “But that’s a pretty permanent journey. What if I don’t like your world and want to come back?”

  Then you’re even crazier than I am, he wanted to say, but didn’t.

  “Well, it’s not like schisms never open up between our worlds, or I wouldn’t be here trying to close this one. I guess if you were desperate to come back you’d just have to wait for the next magical disaster to occur.”

  Hunter mulled that over for a few minutes in silence. Worried that he hadn’t sold the idea well enough, Hayden continued, “I just think you’re wasted in this world. You’re obviously a great fighter or you would have been eaten by wild monsters years ago, and you’re probably good at hunting and preparing your own food. I don’t know, I just think you’d have a lot of options if you crossed over to the other realm; you could be almost anything.”

  “Well, it’s certainly something to think about,” he admitted. “Tell me more about what things are like in your realm.”

  That was an extremely broad topic, and Hayden was thankful for the chance to focus his mind on something purposeful for a long period of time while answering. He was afraid that if he stopped talking and let his mind wander that he would lose his tenuous grip on reality for good.

  So he attempted to describe the Nine Lands to someone who had never been there, which was a lot more complicated than he thought it would be at first. He expected Hunter to mostly listen, but the man had a lot of strangely detailed, insightful questions, some of which Hayden was hard-pressed to even answer. He wanted to know about the climate, the agriculture, and the economy, but also things like the politics and the structure of the government—both magical and non-magical. They were interrupted twice by monsters that had to be fought off: the first time by a pair of lions, who were pretty interested in eating them until Hunter proved to be a match for them— they ultimately left them alone in search of easier prey. The second time they were set upon by two wolves, and they each managed to kill one, Hayden dredging up a burst of adrenaline he d
idn’t know he still possessed.

  When they finished with the wolves, Hunter went right back to asking questions about the currency as though there had been no break in the conversation. Not only was he completely uninjured, but his clothes hadn’t even gotten dirty during the fight. Hayden had seen how the older man didn’t have to dodge out of the way or throw himself to the ground while he figured out what to do, he just immediately knew how to deal with each problem they encountered, and he did so fearlessly and without wasted motion.

  I hope something horrible eats him; we’ll see how calm he sounds when he’s being ripped to shreds.

  Hayden tried to shake the mean thought from his head, but it was impossible by now to control what he was feeling. He just clenched his fists and his jaw whenever he was in danger of voicing any of his uncharitable feelings out loud.

  He was pretty sure that Hunter could tell he was steadily losing his grip on things, because the man kept checking on Hayden with greater frequency, his eyes always searching his features for some visible sign of instability.

  “I suppose I should ask you,” Hunter changed the subject abruptly, “what I should do in the event we get to the end of the ley lines and you aren’t in any condition to complete your task. Come to that, I’m not even sure exactly what you’re supposed to be doing to seal the exit.”

  Hayden drew the void-prism from his belt again and held it up so it was visible, basking in its reflected light and feeling a little bit better for it.

  “I need to do a Closing spell with this,” he tucked it back into its holster with the greatest regret, but he didn’t need the thing acting like a beacon for every monster in the vicinity. “Then I’ll have about a minute, at most, to jump through the door before it shuts for good.”

  “That isn’t a lot of time,” Hunter observed, narrowing his eyes to look ahead as they finally neared the end of the pass. “I still can’t see the end of the ley lines, and you’re running out of time as it is.”

  He said it casually, but it sent chills down Hayden’s spine.

  “You can tell?” he asked curtly, ashamed of himself and then furious for feeling that way. He wished he hadn’t suggested that Hunter come through the aperture with him, because now he would be able to tell everyone how inadequate Hayden was at this task if they crossed through together.

  Oh well, there’s still hope of him being eaten by something horrible before we make it to the exit.

  He wasn’t even afraid of the monsters anymore, or the thought of being killed by them. That should have terrified him, but he was too far gone to care. In fact, he wished that more monsters would show up so that he had a chance to fight them—he was itching for a fight right now. He didn’t even feel tired anymore.

  “I can see it in your eyes,” Hunter interrupted his thoughts. “You’re trying to tamp it down as much as possible, but your entire body tenses up and your eyes go a little wild sometimes. How much longer do you think you have—honestly?”

  Scowling, Hayden said, “I have no idea. Not long.”

  Hunter nodded once as though expecting this and then said, “Tell me about yourself.”

  “Excuse me?” Hayden snapped, knowing he sounded rude but not caring.

  “You’ve told me about your world, and a little bit about how you came to end up inside this realm, but you haven’t told me much about yourself at all. All I know is that your father was evil, both of your parents are deceased, and you’ve found a mentor at school to help fill that void.”

  “There’s not much more to tell,” Hayden insisted, surly.

  “With as colorful of a beginning as you’ve had, I doubt that very much.” He sighed. “Talking seems to help you focus, so I’m trying to encourage you towards it,” he added.

  His shoulders were burning now, his Foci almost entirely breached by the distortion magic of the realm.

  “Why do you even care if I go nuts, or if I make it to the exit of this stupid place?” he groused. “What’s in it for you?”

  Puzzled by the question, Hunter said, “You seem like a nice enough kid, and I don’t want to see anyone lose their mind and die far away from home if I can avoid it.”

  In a rare moment of clarity, Hayden handed Hunter the void-prism and said, “Hold that for me, please. If I get much farther gone I might try to use magic, and that’s the only magical weapon I have and I need to save it for the Closing spell.”

  As Hunter tucked the prism safely into his backpack and out of sight, Hayden could swear that the burning sensation in his Foci was beginning to spill past his shoulders and into his chest.

  My Source, of course. It’ll attack my Source next.

  Wondering if he would even be able to call on his magic if he tried, he followed his companion into another densely-wooded area, though at least this one didn’t mute out sound.

  “So, tell me about yourself—anything you want,” Hunter pressed, withdrawing a homemade machete from his belt to hack through the foliage and hanging vines that blocked their way.

  So Hayden told him everything: how he arrived to Mizzenwald at the age of twelve, worried that he wouldn’t even be able to do magic, how he became a Prism major before finding out that that was the same path his father took as a child, how he was immediately picked on by the Trout brothers and their friend Jasper. It was strange how much came back to him in the retelling; after all this time he had almost forgotten about Jasper Dout entirely, and the way he’d nearly gotten Hayden and his friends killed in that cave full of wargs.

  He told Hunter about his second year at school, how he ended up winning a slot in the Eastern Inter-School Championship even though he only had one year of schooling in prisms. He explained his visits to the other schools, how people freaked out when they heard his surname, and how he managed to make friends and enemies even while trying to keep himself alive and in the competition to avoid shaming his school. How he managed to win the competition without ever actually finding the Golden Prism, though few people believed him when he said he had no idea how the trophy ended up in his pocket. How all the other competitors were crippled by their inability to do magic because Farrah tampered with the Resonance Crystal, and how she had died trying to make amends.

  By the time he started recounting his third year of school, Hayden’s throat was beginning to hurt from all the talking, but he didn’t dare stop for fear of losing his tenuous anchor to sanity. These memories were more recent, and some of them were still painful: the sorcerers invading the Forest of Illusions, the Masters of Mizzenwald getting sent to battle—only to be replaced by the High Mayor’s tax mules, Bonk falling ill and Hayden’s terror that his familiar was going to die. Deciding to leave school and go fight for the people he cared about, Tess and Zane getting captured in Amvale while he and Oliver carried on alone, learning that the siglas on the back of his hands actually belonged to the Magistra’s clan, and using that to his advantage to get access to information. Tess and Zane charging into battle while Hayden destroyed the Suppressors, his Focus-correctors shattering from the force of magical backlash going through them, accidentally blowing up three ships full of sorcerers and causing the Forest of Illusions to jump locations with them all inside of it…

  “I don’t suppose many boys your age can say they’ve been decorated as a war hero,” Hunter said in an admiring tone, looking at Hayden with new respect. For some reason, having the man’s good opinion bolstered his own self-confidence, even though he hardly knew him.

  “No, it’s pretty rare,” he admitted, still winding his way through the dense canopies of trees and foliage behind Hunter. “Though this year I got an even bigger honor—right before I came through the schism, actually.”

  “Oh yeah? How did that happen?”

  So Hayden told him about the year so far: spending the winter holiday at the Trout estate with people who loathed him, winning his legal case against the Council of Mages, returning to Mizzenwald and finding that he was suddenly wildly popular with people he didn’t even know�
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  Hunter thought it was particularly amusing that he’d spent his winter holiday with people who hated him, being trained up for a lawsuit by one of the principle defendants.

  Hayden explained everything leading up to him entering the schism, receiving the Opalline Medallion, and finally, the loss of Harold and Tanner.

  “And then I met you,” he finished at last, exhausted from sharing his entire life’s story with a complete stranger, who was nonetheless a good audience.

  “Well, it sounds like you’ve had quite an adventure yourself.” Hunter grinned. “Guess I’m not the only one who likes being in the thick of things.”

  “I’m not sure I like it, it just always seems to end up that way,” Hayden corrected, though he had to admit to himself that it wasn’t all bad. Sometimes he even liked the attention; it made him feel powerful, important, better than all of his worthless peers who were content with being mediocre…

  He shook himself mentally, but now that he was done talking he was acutely aware of the agonizing pain in his arms and chest, forcing him to take short, shallow breaths and wonder if it was possible for an otherwise healthy fifteen-year old boy to have a heart attack.

  “Well, since your Master Asher isn’t here to say it, I will,” Hunter drew his attention. “You’re the kind of kid any parent would be proud of. I expect that if your worthless father hadn’t been so absorbed in his own issues, he would agree.”

  Hayden was unexpectedly choked up by the compliment, the pain in his body lessening fractionally. Asher was the only other person to ever really say he was proud of him, and that was only on the eve of his departure to a battle that he expected would kill him. It was hard to say why Hunter’s opinion mattered so much to him right now, other than the fact that he was the only friend Hayden had right now in this horrible world. The real world seemed far away, like a sweet dream that he had woken up from a long time ago. He couldn’t even remember the way the fresh air smelled, or the way Tess’s hand felt in his; this was his reality now, the only thing he could remember clearly.