by V. St. Clair
Hayden only just realized the time. He had completely forgotten about fourth period when he and Master Laurren got to talking about prisms. He didn’t even remember what his homework question was anymore.
“I’m partly to blame,” Laurren explained. “He came to ask me a question and I fear I sidetracked him.”
Asher shrugged and said, “No matter. Are you ready to go to class now, or should I make other plans for my day?” to Hayden.
“No sir, I’m ready.” He hurried after the Prism Master and they made their way upstairs in silence. After it became unbearable Hayden decided to press his luck and asked, “Was that true, about your mother?”
Asher looked down at him as though just realizing he was there and said, “Yes, it is. Torin said he began to notice changes in her shortly after I was born, which got worse as my childhood progressed. I remember her occasionally talking to people who weren’t there and crying in the night. My father tried everything he could to help her but it didn’t do any good, and after she tried to drown me he finally cut ties with her and we moved here, about as far from Sudir as you can get without crossing an ocean.” He said all of this calmly, as though he was describing someone else’s life and not his own.
“I suppose she always had that time-bomb in her head, waiting to go off, but I always wondered if I had something to do with it,” he continued a bit more grimly.
“I don’t see how you could have…” Hayden argued gently. “You were just a kid.”
“True,” he tilted his head in concession, entering the classroom ahead of Hayden. “And no one on my father’s side of the family was ever a natural prism-user, so I suppose I would not be where I am if she hadn’t been as she was, so it’s hard to wish that things had gone differently.”
That was an uncomfortable thought, because Hayden was sort of in the same position. If Aleric Frost had never dabbled with broken prisms, so many families would still be whole and the world would be a better place, but on the other hand, would Hayden be what he was today? Would he have grown up in the Frost estate, with relatives pressing him to be great and to live up to the Frost name? Would he feel so much pressure that instead of his father, he would be the one to bow to the pressure of messing with dark magic in the hopes of not letting them down?
“It feels…selfish,” Hayden frowned, “to be happy about where I am, knowing what it cost the world to put me here.”
“You’re still looking to the past, because you want to know where you came from and who your father was. I don’t say that as criticism, as we all look to the past at some time or another, searching for clarity or wondering what could have been. But someday you will have to accept that what’s done is done and that it doesn’t really matter what your father was thinking on the day he disappeared, or why your Foci and Source are so abnormal. When that happens, you’ll stop looking backwards and start focusing on the future, the only thing that truly matters.”
“So you never look back?” Hayden asked skeptically.
Asher shrugged and said, “Not any more than I have to. Best to leave the ghosts where they belong.”
And with that he changed the subject to prisms and began Hayden’s lesson for the day.
The weeks dragged on, with more bad news coming in by the day, as people’s friends and families were called to war and weren’t heard from again. When news came that Magdalene Trout was missing in action, Lorn’s dedication to their combat practices became almost terrifying. His pudgy face screwed up in determination, he practiced relentlessly and drove them to longer and longer sessions every time, and none of them had the heart to insist that they slow down. He even started showing them tricks that Oliver had taught him over the years, and gradually they all improved so that Hayden was even able to hold his own in the fights against Master Asher every-other day.
Oliver was a different matter. Since his mother’s disappearance he had become quiet and moody, not joining in the table conversation with his normal group of friends at mealtimes and snapping at people who tried to approach him, including his younger brother. One night at dinner a messenger came to the castle on horseback with a sealed letter for him, which caused quite a stir since there was rarely a message important enough to bring someone from town this late in the day. Oliver took it from the courier and ripped it in half without even opening it, dropping the pieces calmly into a burning brazier as he left the dining hall.
“Ouch,” Zane winced. “I never thought I’d feel sorry for Oliver Trout, but I actually do.”
Hayden frowned and said, “What do you think was in the letter? He didn’t even open it and read it.”
“I doubt he needs to,” Tamon interjected quietly. “It can really only be one thing at this point.”
“What’s that?” Hayden turned to his friend in interest.
“The Trout titles and holdings,” Tamon continued. “With his father deceased and his mother missing in action, they must have decided she’s dead and given him sole control of all the Trout land and finances. After all, they can’t leave a Great House without a leader for very long or it’ll be a banking nightmare to sort out later.”
Hayden scanned the room for Lorn and saw him giving the burning brazier an uneasy look, as though he too knew the contents of the letter without having to read it.
“I’ve been wondering why Oliver hasn’t gone off to fight with the others who left,” Conner put in quietly. “I mean, he’s of age to go, and I’ve heard he’s pretty powerful…”
“His mother wouldn’t let him,” Tess explained softly. “I overheard him arguing with Lorn about it one night because I got to our training session early. Apparently he wanted to help fight, but his mother insisted that he stay behind to take care of Lorn and the family estate in case anything happened to her.”
“Well, it looks like she knew what she was doing, because now Oliver is in charge of the Trout fortunes,” Tamon frowned thoughtfully.
“Not if he doesn’t want to be,” Conner argued. “He never read the letter. He can claim he was never notified and leave the estate and lands in limbo.”
“But why would he do that?” Zane looked incredulous. “What’s the point of not going home to accept the title and make sure things keep running the way they’re supposed to?”
But Hayden thought he understood. “Because it means admitting that his mother is dead,” he said quietly, and silence fell at the table. “As long as he doesn’t claim his right, he doesn’t have to accept that his mom is never coming back.”
Hayden couldn’t blame him. He probably would have done the same thing if he had been in Oliver’s situation, holding out hope as long as he could until someone forced him to take his rightful place as head of house.
How much longer can this war go on? He thought with grim wonder. It felt like an eternity had elapsed, but it had barely been half a year. He thought back to his lessons where they talked about ten-year wars, and suppressed a shudder at the death toll that would add up if things went on that long.
If he thought things couldn’t get any worse, he was wrong. The atmosphere at Mizzenwald got bleaker and bleaker as the days and weeks went on, and the Masters were gone so frequently that they sometimes cancelled classes entirely. When Hayden did see them, they looked older and more tired than he could have imagined, and he didn’t need anyone to tell him that things were still going badly.
It was after a particularly brutal training session with his teammates that he found himself limping off to bed alone, electing to forego dinner that night because he really wasn’t hungry. He had just entered the pentagonal foyer when he ran into Master Asher, who looked like he was headed somewhere in a hurry, though he stopped at the sight of Hayden.
“Master Asher,” Hayden greeted him. “I was going to tell you in class today, only you cancelled—”
“Sorry about that, something came up,” the Prism Master explained, a strange look on his face that Hayden couldn’t interpret. “Anyway, what did you want to tell me?”
<
br /> “I think I might have found a new array while I was doing calculations. Well, it’s new to me at least, but I’m sure you probably know about it by now since you’re a lot better at prisms—”
“Don’t bet on that, there are still thousands of arrays left to discover,” Asher interrupted. “What do you think your new array does?”
Hayden shrugged and said, “I have no idea, I only just got onto it today. I can show you in class tomorrow and you can tell me if I’m wasting my time.” In truth, he was hoping to get some praise for his efforts, because it was the first time he had ever found anything promising with his execrable math skills so far and he was quite proud of himself.
Master Asher got that strange look on his face again, and for some reason it filled Hayden with a sense of dread.
“Yes, you’ll have to show me during our next lesson,” the Prism Master said in an odd voice. Before he could say more, Cinder and Horace flew towards him through an open window and landed on either shoulder. “Oh good, you two lazy creatures finally decided to join me.”
Horace nudged his master affectionately and Cinder continued to look regal and haughty, not responding to the jab.
“Oh, are you going out?” Hayden stepped out of the way of the front door. “Sorry to slow you down, you probably have an important meeting to go to.”
“Yes, quite important,” Asher confirmed heavily, staring out at the night sky with an ominously pensive look on his face.
“Well goodnight then, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hayden turned to walk upstairs when Asher called out to him.
“Hayden?” He waited until Hayden turned around on the sixth stair. For a moment he looked like he had no idea what to say, but then his face relaxed and he said, “Just so you know, I’m proud of you.”
Surprised, Hayden asked, “For finding an alignment?”
Asher chuckled and said, “That too.” And then he left.
That was weird, Hayden thought to himself as he climbed the stairs, yawning as he entered his dormitory and fell asleep on top of the covers.
It was nearly midnight when Bonk cuffed him awake, and at first he simply mumbled a threat at his familiar for waking him and rolled over to go back to sleep. Bonk began nudging him in the side of the head in a determined sort of way, and Hayden eventually yawned and blinked open his eyes.
“What do you want?” he whispered in annoyance. “It’s late at night; I’m not getting up to play with you.”
Bonk flapped his wings gently and hopped off the bed, coasting down to the floor. Hayden sat up and looked down at him, surprised to see a faint glowing yellow line that bisected the room and seemed to dead-end at the door.
“What in the world…?” he whispered to himself, climbing quietly out of bed so as not to wake his roommates. Padding across the floor barefoot, he touched the glowing line to see if it smeared or felt warm, but there was nothing to indicate any unusual magic about it. It just looked like a pale band of light, cast from some unknown source.
Bonk was waiting impatiently by the door, and without knowing exactly why he was doing it, Hayden quietly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway with him. The strip of light continued down the hall towards the main stairwell, and Hayden followed it with Bonk on his shoulder. He had no idea what the light was or why Bonk wanted him to follow it, but his familiar never encouraged him to do things that would get him in trouble.
Well, usually not. Sometimes.
Hayden glanced at Bonk skeptically as he continued down the stairs, following the strange trail of light through the pentagonal foyer and down the hallway that led out the back entrance of the school. He looked back and saw that the light disappeared behind him…was someone trying to lure him into something dangerous?
Frowning, he continued out the back door and raised his eyebrows when he saw that the light led to the cellar doors that went to Abnormal Magic. Wondering what in the world was about to greet him, he opened the heavy doors and continued down the stairs, wishing he had taken the time to put some socks and shoes on before leaving his dormitory, because the floor was freezing on his bare feet.
He saw a light on in Master Laurren’s office and moved towards it, knocking gently on the doorframe as he entered to announce his presence. The Master looked like he was preparing for travel, a large backpack crammed full of books, weapons, and magical instruments lying on his desk. He looked up at the sight of Hayden and said, “Good, I hoped you’d get my message,” as though they had some long-standing arrangement to meet here at midnight.
“Sir?” he asked in puzzlement, still trying to wake his brain.
“There isn’t much time, so pay attention,” Laurren continued without preamble. “I was only allowed to come back to Mizzenwald because I left some weapons behind.”
“Wait, what do you mean you were allowed to come back…where are you going?” Hayden was wide awake now.
Master Laurren frowned and said, “Asher didn’t get a chance to tell you? We’ve been called to the Forest of Illusions to fight.”
Hayden’s mouth dropped open and he blurted out, “WHAT?!” so loudly that it echoed around the office. “You and Asher are both leaving?!”
“Actually, all of us are leaving—have already left,” Laurren corrected. “With the exception of Sark, who we nominated to remain behind and make sure that the accountants don’t completely destroy the school while we’re gone.”
“Wait, WHAT?” Hayden asked again. It seemed worth repeating. “Everyone is gone except for Master Sark? Who’s going to teach classes?”
Master Laurren frowned and said, “Our mastery students and the accountants; that’s what I’m trying to tell you. In the absence of magical leadership, the High Mayor has the right to send his own people to govern the school in our absence. These will not be mages, but finance big-shots, as Mizzenwald generates an enormous amount of money for Junir. It gives him a rare opportunity to have his people dig through all of our files and ledgers, to see if they can squeeze any more money out of the school through optimization, and I’ll tell you right now that they are a nightmare to deal with. We expend a large effort to keep the accountants out of Mizzenwald as much as possible, by lying through our teeth when necessary.”
Hayden was struggling to process the enormity of the information that he was being fed right now. Bonk was unusually still and attentive, poised gracefully on the edge of Laurren’s desk.
“But why are they taking all of you away at once?” he asked desperately, trying not to think of the fact that no one who went into the Forest had come back out so far.
“It was our last bargaining tool to keep them from drafting you children,” Laurren sighed. “The High Mayor and his counterparts in other lands have been screaming about the threat of the war to the populace if the sorcerers breach the Forest and enter the mainland. They were going to impose a mandatory draft on mages who haven’t completed their schooling, as long as they met the minimum requirements of what is necessary to fight. All the sixth and seventh year students would be taken, at the very least, and a few younger students with unusual power or skill.”
Hayden’s eyes widened. “People like me,” he said softly.
Laurren nodded. “Yes, your name did enter the discussion quite early on,” he confirmed. “We pulled every string we had to prevent that from happening—for now. Part of the deal included us going into battle instead, as we were able to convince the Mayor’s people that each of us is worth dozens of you kids. Some of the other schools have made similar bargains, but not all of them.”
Hayden shook his head in disbelief.
“If they want me to fight so badly, then let me come with you!” he insisted. “I’ve gotten loads better than I was last year, and there’s no reason you all should trade your lives for ours.”
“You’re speaking like a petulant child,” Master Laurren chided him with a frown. “No one is denying that you have power, but you are still not optimizing your usage of it. And there is nothing mor
e shameful or cowardly for a fully-trained adult than to allow a child to fight in their place,” he said with an unusual amount of arrogance. “Would you ever allow an eight-year old to take your place in a fight?”
Hayden frowned and shook his head, still seething inside at the unfairness of the entire situation.
“How long have you all known you were leaving?” he demanded hotly.
“We got word that the deal was accepted just before dinner; that’s why none of us were there,” Laurren explained, still rummaging around his office for any last-minute packing.
Hayden had skipped dinner that night, or he might have noticed and worried that none of the Masters were present. With a pang of alarm he remembered encountering Asher in the Pentagon, probably as he was on his way out the door to join the war. He suddenly understood the strange look on his face, and the reason he had taken the time to tell Hayden he was proud of him.
He’s not planning on ever seeing me again. I was telling him about new arrays I wanted to show him, and he was saying goodbye.
His throat felt constricted, and he had to swallow hard several times to clear his airways and get control of his emotions.
“Asher asked me to warn you in particular not to get on the bad side of the accountants. They have no vested interest in keeping you here where it’s safe, and if they decide that you’re costing them more than you’re worth, it could be expulsion or worse for you. The High Mayor will have told them all about you and your powers by now—what he knows of them at least—and you must downplay all of it as much as possible and not call attention to yourself.”
Hayden was liking this less and less by the minute, but he nodded.
“Also, I wanted to give you this…in case of emergencies.” Laurren looked like he was doing this against his better judgment, but he extracted a small silver key from his pocket and handed it to Hayden.
“What is this for?”
“Stick that in the chipped part of the floor, right there.” He pointed to a spot of cracked wood that Hayden had never given a second thought before. Not sure what was happening, Hayden knelt down and put the end of the oddly-shaped key into the slot.