The Other Prism (The Broken Prism)

by St. Clair, V.

  By the time school started the next morning, everyone seemed to know about the incident with the oculus and the schism-wargs, as well as the fact that Zane, Tess, and Hayden were the three students who fought them. Hayden, who was used to all the attention by now, took it in stride whenever someone asked him to explain the battle for the umpteenth time, but Zane developed a horrible habit of grinning like an idiot when he was nervous, which was kind of unsettling.

  “You know it scares people when you smile while talking about how horrible the attack was, right?” Hayden couldn’t resist the urge to tease him over lunch, since Zane almost always had the upper-hand on him at school.

  “Shut up, I can’t help it,” he grumbled mutinously, mashing his turnips with vigor. “I don’t know why I keep grinning about it—it was terrifying! But you have to admit, I’m doing better than poor Tess.”

  Hayden frowned and scanned the dining hall for her, but she wasn’t there. Unfortunately, Zane was correct. Tess, who was shy by nature, had reacted to all the attention by turning bright red, stammering incoherently, and then running away. Hayden hadn’t seen her since breakfast, which annoyed him for some reason.

  Zane read his frustration and said, “You could go look for her. She’s probably sitting in her room, waiting for classes to resume. I’ll bet you could talk her out of there.”

  “Why would I have better luck than her three roommates did? I wouldn’t even know what to say,” Hayden frowned.

  He could have sworn he heard Zane snort in amusement, but when he looked over his friend was coughing into a napkin, claiming to have choked on his turnips.

  “You’re right,” Zane set the napkin down, looking oddly entertained given that he’d just choked on his food. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Things didn’t die down for nearly two weeks. It was only as the penultimate round of the I.S.C. approached that the subject of gossip and speculation switched over to the trials at Isenfall, and what they were likely to entail.

  Hayden began to get nervous once again at the thought of facing Davis in battle, and felt a little queasy anytime someone brought up the subject of the upcoming competition. He supposed if he lost too badly that he could use the same excuse as everyone else and claim that his powers had abandoned him by some sort of magical interference.

  The night before the third trial brought him no sleep at all. He rose from bed before the sun came up, walked calmly into the hallway, and vomited all over the floor. Even Bonk pulled a face at the sight of it, and flew away from him to go hunting on his own while Hayden looked for something to clean up the puddle of sick.

  He had no idea why he was so nervous this time around, other than dreading the prospect of facing off against Davis in his home territory. He knew he should be comforted by the thought that even if he failed out of the competition before the finals, at least he had made it this far and people probably wouldn’t laugh at him, but even that made him feel queasy right now.

  He donned his Team Mizzenwald robes and joined his remaining three teammates in the dining hall for a quick breakfast before they left. He was mildly comforted by the fact that they still had four of their five team members in the competition, so at least he wouldn’t be at Isenfall alone. Even Oliver’s presence was a relief at this point.

  Isenfall was located in the center of the southern continent, near the border of Minir and Hazenvale. Being accustomed to mountains and forests in the eastern lands, Hayden was stunned when they were translocated to a flat expanse of grass that looked endless.

  The castle wasn’t terribly different than Mizzenwald, other than being several levels taller to accommodate the larger population of students. The other main difference between the castle at Isenfall and the one at Mizzenwald was that this one was made of black obsidian. The grounds seemed to stretch on endlessly in all directions, not a road or a town in sight, which also seemed weird to Hayden.

  Fortunately they had translocated near the school itself, saving them a long walk, and Reya voiced the question Hayden was thinking and asked, “Does all of this land belong to the school?”

  Oliver glanced around for a moment and then said, “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure where the boundaries are. My mother said that Isenfall has a lot more land than the other schools, which is why they can have horseback riding and games of hand-ball without all bumping into each other.”

  They entered the castle through the front door and were surprised to find the Prism Master of Isenfall waiting to greet them. A tall man in his late thirties, he wore the circlet that Master Asher said was used primarily for combat: three prisms were loaded into it, with a fourth stacked on the second tier, all of which were currently pointed upwards at the ceiling as they rested on top of his head. Remembering what Asher said about how heavy the entire thing was, Hayden had no idea why the Prism Master would choose to wear it casually.

  His dark brown eyes took in Hayden at a glance, and then the others.

  He’s a natural Prism; he has the six slots on his belt for them.

  “Team Mizzenwald, here at last,” he greeted them, folding his arms across his chest like he was preparing to scold them all.

  “Are we late? We just got our translocation about five minutes ago,” Oliver raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  The Prism Master ignored his question and led them away from the main entrance and around to a much less conspicuous door on one side of the foyer. Hayden couldn’t help but feel like they were being kept deliberately out of the main part of the school. The corridor was narrow and dark, more like a utility passage than a hallway, and they stopped in front of a nondescript wooden door after only a few dozen steps.

  “Powders, in here.” The Prism Master pointed without enthusiasm, eyes flickering towards Hayden ever-so-briefly as he spoke.

  “Excuse me, Master…” Oliver started.

  “Kiresa,” the Prism Master supplied.

  “…Master Kiresa, why are we being segregated by major before the opening feast has begun?”

  The Prism Master looked genuinely surprised by the question, and said, “This is the penultimate trial. We all know who you are by now. The trials will commence shortly.”

  And with that, he waited for Oliver to disappear into the room before shutting and locking the door behind him with the use of his green prism. None of them commented on the strange behavior, though the three of them exchanged glances behind the Prism Master’s back. Hayden’s heart beat harder as they continued in what felt like a wide, sweeping circle around the interior of the school, never leaving the service passage. They dropped off Reya and then Darren, until Hayden found himself alone with the Prism Master of Isenfall, mentor of one of his least favorite people in the Nine Lands. He had the feeling that this wasn’t a coincidence.

  They walked in silence for a minute before Hayden said, “Why aren’t you taking us through the school? This can’t be the quickest way to get to all of the assembly rooms, sir.”

  Master Kiresa spared him a fleeting glance before responding. “We go to great lengths to protect the secrets of our castle from outsiders, and Mizzenwald has been known to send spies.”

  That was news to Hayden, who couldn’t imagine any of his teachers asking him to spy on the mages of Isenfall during a challenge.

  “You’re a natural Prism,” Hayden changed the subject.

  “As are you, Hayden Frost.” The Prism Master fell silent for a moment before adding, “I assume that Asher Masters is mentoring you?”

  “That’s right. I suppose you’re mentoring Davis?”

  “That would be a safe assumption.”

  “Have you been training him to be a ruthless jerk, or does he come by that naturally?” He couldn’t entirely suppress his irritation.

  “I suppose you want him to roll over and concede defeat before the trial even starts? Coddle you, as Asher surely does, so that you can feel good about yourself?” The man stopped walking and turned to face him. “It may surprise you to hear this,
but the world doesn’t exist to serve the whims of the Frosts. That was a lesson your father could have stood to remember as well.”

  “Wait, you mean you’re prejudiced against me because you hated my father? Shocking, you’re the first one to ever say that,” he answered sarcastically, his jitters getting the better of him. “And I’m not saying that Davis should just give up, but he could at least fight fair.”

  Kiresa ignored his sarcasm and said, “There is no fairness in combat. You use any and all means necessary to win against an opponent, and if you succeed, then you are worthy of the victory.”

  “Even at the cost of your self-respect?” Hayden asked in surprise. “What does that make you when it’s all said and done, and you’re sitting around with your hollow victory?”

  “It makes you the winner,” Kiresa answered simply. “History always hails the winners as heroes, while the losers are condemned or forgotten. Consider it a free lesson, one you’re not likely to hear from your own mentor.”

  “Thank heavens for that,” Hayden mumbled, reaching for the doorknob that led to the holding room for the prism-users. Before he opened it, he turned back to the Prism Master and added, “If you really believe what you said, then you should have been great pals with my father. After all, he was winning for ten years.”

  Master Kiresa looked intrigued, betraying the first hint of a smile since Hayden had met him.

  “Perhaps I was friends with him, once.”

  That took Hayden by surprise; few people admitted an acquaintance with the Dark Prism so casually.

  “Then what changed?”

  “He lost his war, thanks to you.” The man’s dark eyes seemed to burn holes into him, alight with interest. “Now you are the one everyone is waiting to see dethroned. It will be interesting to see who finally manages it.”

  Hayden suppressed a shudder and opened the wooden door, eager to escape this ominous conversation with the Prism Master. Unfortunately he followed Hayden inside to address them as a group.

  As there were only three of them left in the competition, it was hard to avoid sitting near Davis without looking like he was intimidated. For the first time in Hayden’s memory, his nemesis didn’t look smug or confident. He looked high-strung and a bit queasy.

  Is Davis actually nervous?

  After meeting the Prism Master of Isenfall, Hayden could guess why. If Davis lost to Hayden in front of his mentor, the man was likely to torment him relentlessly. Hayden had never appreciated Master Asher more than in this moment, because while he had certainly been uncomfortable or unsure around his mentor before, he had never feared him.

  “The three of you will be competing in the third competition of the day, following Elixirs and Wands. Hand over your prisms for inspection, and once I’ve verified that they are acceptable, we will go outside.”

  He inspected Davis and Marc’s prisms very quickly, but spent much longer on Hayden’s, as though determined to find a defect. Finally, he handed them back and pronounced himself satisfied, opening the door and motioning for them to follow him back into the service corridor.

  “Are we allowed to watch the other trials?” Hayden thought it best to ask permission, since the Masters of Isenfall seemed really twitchy about outsiders being in their school.

  “You may, but you must remain in the designated viewing areas at all times,” Master Kiresa answered, passing through a door that led directly outside. Most of the school was already assembling in a large circle around part of the lawn, which was currently filled with cauldrons and flasks. There was a row of chairs right in the front that were clearly reserved for the Masters and foreign competitors.

  The Prism Master moved closer to Davis as the group cut a path through the crowd to reach the designated seating area. Hayden heard Kiresa’s quiet voice ask, “Are you still feeling ill?”

  Trying to look as though he couldn’t hear, Hayden did his best to tune out the sounds of the crowd and focus on what Davis and his mentor were saying to each other.

  “Yes,” the former admitted. “I don’t know what it is, but I can’t seem to shake it. It’s been nearly a week now.” He sounded unnerved.

  “It can’t possibly be nerves at the prospect of fighting the Frost boy?” The Prism Master sounded almost sardonic.

  “I’m not nervous about fighting him,” Davis snapped, sounding disgusted by the implication. “I’m just not feeling well, that’s all.”

  “Then I trust you will not allow something as trifling as an autumn cold to interfere with your magic,” Master Kiresa said dangerously. “If you were to repeat the embarrassing lack of control you displayed yesterday in class, it would reflect most poorly on the both of us.”

  “Of course not. I’ve got it under control,” Davis said with a hint of his usual swagger, but his eyes betrayed his lingering doubt. Hayden felt almost bad for his nemesis as he took the first seat available (next to Farrah from Creston), though a small part of his brain cheered at how much easier this trial might be if Davis was ill.

  “Oh good, I was saving this seat for you,” Farrah greeted him pleasantly as he sat down. She looked the same as the last time he saw her, from the brown hair in a ponytail to the wand tucked behind her ear, though Hayden couldn’t help but wonder if she had gotten even prettier since they last met.

  “Really?” he asked in surprise. “Why’s that?”

  “Because,” she lowered her voice conspiratorially, “you’re the only normal person here besides me.”

  Hayden raised an eyebrow and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of being normal before.”

  She laughed and explained, “Well, that Oliver boy thinks the sun shines out of his rear, that conjurer from Branx spits when he talks and smells weird, and Jax—the powder from Valhalla—leers at me and creeps me out.”

  Hayden looked around at the people she identified in a new light.

  “What about Marc? He’s the prism-user from your school, and your powder-user is here too. Don’t you want to sit with them?”

  “Jon has the personality of a tuber, and Marc is my ex-boyfriend, so…no.”

  Momentarily diverted from his next question, Hayden said, “You went out with a prism-user?”

  “Yeah, why? Is that weird?”

  “No, it just made me think.”

  “About what? Asking me out?” Farrah looked completely unabashed, but Hayden felt like his face was boiling with heat all of a sudden.

  “What—no! I meant—”

  “Wait, so you’re saying that the thought of asking me out is horrifying to you?” she interrupted, narrowing her eyebrows at him.

  “No, that isn’t—!”

  It took him a moment to realize that she was laughing, and he felt the air rush out of him as he tried to calm himself down.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. The look on your face was too good,” Farrah grinned, and Hayden couldn’t help but laugh at himself.

  “You can’t just spring something like that on me and expect me not to freak out,” he mumbled.

  “What, haven’t you ever had a girlfriend before?”

  Hayden looked up at her. “Are you kidding me? I’m the son of the Dark Prism; people aren’t exactly knocking down the door to spend time with me.”

  “Well that’s stupid. It’s not like you’re the same person as him; besides, you’re cute. If you were a couple years older I’d totally go out with you. Anyway, sorry for interrupting you before, what were you saying about my dating a prism-user?”

  Hayden had absolutely no idea how to respond to her saying he was cute, or any of the rest of it, so he passed over it entirely and answered her question instead.

  “When you said you went out with Marc, it just made me wonder if, in a few years, two other people will be sitting here at the I.S.C., talking about the other competitors. I just imagined some girl telling a stranger, ‘No, I don’t want to sit by Hayden; I used to date that loser’. It was weird to think about.”

  Farrah giggled and
said, “What a strange thought. You’re not like most guys I know. That’s a good thing, by the way,” she added. “Well, it looks like I’m up now. Wish me luck.”

  Hayden had no idea what she was talking about until he realized he had missed the entirety of the Elixir trial while talking to her. Farrah made her way to the blank space of lawn (the cauldrons and flasks were nowhere in sight), along with her remaining two competitors. Her seat was taken by the burly elixir-user from Creston, who Hayden would forever remember as ‘the boy with the personality of a tuber’ thanks to Farrah.

  The Wand trials were pretty straightforward. The Master of Wands informed them that their task was to be the last one standing and in fighting condition, which meant that they had to do their best to incapacitate each other.

  “Did the Masters of Isenfall forget that they were hosting the third trial of the I.S.C.?” Hayden asked the boy sitting beside him. “Everywhere else had fancy arenas and thought-out events. These people just throw us on the lawn and tell us to fight each other til we get tired.”

  The boy next to him simply shrugged, but Hayden was startled by a voice behind him that said, “I’m sorry you’re disappointed with our events, Frost. I’ll be sure to make things more interesting for you soon.”

  Hayden turned in his seat and saw the Prism Master of Isenfall standing right behind him, giving him an odd smirk that made him suspect he was about to regret his flippant remark.

  “I didn’t realize you were there, sir,” he answered dumbly.

  “Isn’t that the point of eavesdropping?” Master Kiresa looked mildly amused. “Anyway, there is much to be said for simple combat. It is the best way to truly assess a person’s skills, after all, as you’re much less likely to encounter a field of gravitic balls of pigment that you have to avoid contact with in real life.”

  Hayden, reflecting back on his first trial, couldn’t help but grudgingly agree with that. He winced as one of Farrah’s opponents cast something that made a huge gash in her sleeve and drew blood.

  “Open combat seems dangerous though, especially with mastery-level students who are determined to win. What if someone gets killed?”