by Priya Ardis
“Ah, yes. Quite enlightening.” Marilynn didn’t look at me.
Gia interjected, “Ryan knows him quite well. Maybe he told her.”
For the first time, Ms. Joseph looked at me skeptically. “Really? You know him well.”
“Er, yes,” I said.
Marilynn snorted. “I’d say so.”
When three sets of eyes looked at her in surprise, she colored, muttering, “They’re candidates. Part of the Excalibur program.”
Ms. Joseph’s large eyes turned on me with a bunny-like plea. “Oh, do tell. How well did you know him? Have you actually had a whole conversation? What is he like? Does he eat?”
Although the barrage of questions was overwhelming, the last one made me pause.
“Does he eat?” I repeated cautiously.
Ms. Joseph shrugged. “He’s so powerful. Who knows maybe he’s advanced past eating.”
Wow. I stared at her slack-jawed for a second. Advanced past eating. I had a vision of Matt scarfing down pizza on our first date. “No, he definitely eats.”
“How do you know?” she demanded.
“Uh, he likes pepperoni.”
“That’s so American,” Marilynn scoffed.
“I like pizza,” Ms. Joseph exclaimed. “I’ll talk to the dining staff. I wager they’d love to make him some. Do you think he would like that?”
I was starting to feel like I’d fallen into an alternate universe. I’d never been interrogated about someone so closely before. It was like he was a celebrity. “Um, sure.”
Ms. Joseph clapped her hands with glee. “Wonderful.”
I glanced at Gia. She snickered.
Ms. Joseph touched her hair as she looked at the wall with dreamy eyes. “What I wouldn’t give to be a candidate. You’ll be getting to spend so much time with him.”
Gia cleared her throat. “Ryan doesn’t need to be a candidate for that.”
Ms. Joseph’s eyes widened. “Her and him? Together?”
“Of course not,” Marilynn scoffed. “She is too young for him.” Her brow furrowed. She looked at me and asked point blank, “You and he have never… dated.”
“W-well,” I stammered. “Not never.”
CHAPTER 9
BASIC ELEMENTS
Ms. Joseph gave me an awed look.
Marilynn made a small sound of distress.
“Are you alright?” Gia asked her.
Marilynn huffed and took a deep breath. “I’m fine.” She pointed us out of the office. “However, you two need to get going. The lift is that way. Your room is on the fifth level. I’ll leave you to find it.”
Before we could say anything else, she’d pushed past us and hurried away.
“Poor girl,” Ms. Joseph sighed, looking after Marilynn. “I know just how she feels.”
With a forced smile on my face, I backed out of the office. Gia followed. I scowled at her. “Matt and I are not dating.”
Gia laughed. “That was hilarious.”
I halted midstride. “You told them that to get a rise out of them?”
“Sure, it was too funny,” she said. “And I really don’t like that Marilynn. She’s kinda stuck-up.”
I couldn’t disagree with that. Still, I groused, “Why did you have to bring me into it?”
Gia laughed sardonically. “Because whether or not you admit it, it’s true. You two were hanging all over each other.”
“We went on a date. Possibly two. Depends on how you look at it.” I felt my cheeks turn red. I was babbling. I stalked into the elevator and punched the button for our room. “Anyway it’s finished. Over. I mean you wouldn’t date a guy who kept lying to you, right?”
Gia gave me a look that said I was the world’s biggest idiot. “He is Merlin. And it’s obvious why he lied—”
“What? Why?”
“Hell—oo.” Gia leaned against the mirrored wall of the miniscule elevator and checked out her teeth. “He’s the most powerful wizard of all time. And he likes you. He probably didn’t want you to freak.”
But I was freaking. And I didn’t like Merlin. I liked Matt.
***
Early the next morning, a mass of students filled the courtyard and veranda as they rushed to classes. Grey and I walked together. Grey wore khakis, a long sleeve t-shirt, and a jacket. He looked at my jeans, rumpled shirt and barely-made hair with amusement.
“Tough night?” he asked. The school map application on the iPad directed us into an imposing stone building.
I yawned. “Gia is not the quietest sleeper.”
“Who?”
“My new roommate. The girl with red-hair. One of Vane’s candidates.”
He nodded. “Hot girl. The brute’s girlfriend.”
We walked down a long hallway with classrooms to the left and right.
I rolled my eyes. “She may be someone’s girlfriend, but she kept mumbling about Merlin all night.”
“Oh, that’s why,” he deadpanned.
I punched him in the shoulder.
Grey yelped. “Watch it, bruiser. Why is it that every time he-who-must-not-be-named is even mentioned you turn violent?”
“He-who-must-not-be-named, bullshit!”
His eyes flickered over me. “You look soft but you pack a mean punch.”
I opened and closed my mouth, but didn’t get a chance to retort. We reached the end of the hallway and entered into a corner classroom. It was a huge room. At the front stood three blank black chalkboards side by side. The sterile smell of forced learning didn’t seem to be present. High open windows and the scent of wild flowers seemed far from the dungeon-like atmosphere of the classrooms I was used to. Grey and I sat on one long bench-seat attached to a mahogany bench table, nothing like the flimsy individual metal desk and chair combo that were the norm back home.
Dinner last night had been odd. Round tables with fine white tablecloths and sit-down service felt more suitable for a wedding a school cafeteria. The heavy silverware we used might have even been real silver. Everything about the wizard school from its immaculate landscape to the iPads to the gourmet food screamed money. Of course, if every wizard family was as rich as the Ragnars, I guess the opulence shouldn’t have surprised me.
It was a far cry from the life my mother’s teacher salary could have afforded. I smoothed down my jeans nervously. I hadn’t felt this out of place in Boston, mostly because there had been enough normal kids in school to make up for the crazy rich ones. But here even the superfine softer-than-silk cotton sheets on my bed last night had brought to my attention how completely out of my element I was.
To distract myself, I glanced at the kids in the room. There were around forty or so. The Regulars made up about half. Vane’s candidates sat in the back. A row of about fifteen kids sat in the front. I didn’t recognize them at all. They hadn’t been at the admissions test.
Outside the clock tower chimed. I tapped my iPad. The calendar told me that I was scheduled for Basic Elements in the morning, then a break for lunch, and then Physical Training in the afternoon.
The classroom door swung open.
Matt strode into the room. He crossed to the teacher’s desk and set a leather satchel down. “Welcome. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Merlin. But I go by Matt Emrys. A modern name for a modern time.”
He held up his iPad. “Many of you have these. I’m here to tell you—they’re useless.” Matt snapped his fingers and copies of a heavy tome appeared out of nowhere onto our desks.
Groans filled the room. It was one impressively thick book.
“Part of learning magic is to feel it. To touch it. To smell it. You can’t get that sense from one of these—” He pointed to the iPad.
“Why do we care about magic? We don’t have any,” Grey asked.
“Precisely. You will be learning how to defend yourself against magic.” Matt came around the teacher’s desk and leaned against the edge casually. It irked me that I noticed how hot he looked. He glanced at me as if he’d heard my thou
ght. I looked away.
“Let us start with why you are here. These things do have one use.” Matt picked up the iPad from where he’d tossed it. A flat-screen TV lowered in front of the black board. With a few taps, a news broadcast started streaming.
A news anchor said, “…five days have passed since the infamous stone fell in Trafalgar Square. Reports of damage and casualties are still being reported from the effects of the Total Tremor. However, no one has been able to give a satisfactory answer to the question on the world’s mind—why?”
“But that hasn’t stopped more and more visitors from coming. They have flocked from around the world to try their hand at pulling the sword from the stone—” The broadcast showed a line of people curving more than a mile around the narrow London streets. “There seems to be no end in sight. While more and more have come away empty handed, some have not left at all.”
Portrait pictures of five people filled the screen.
“Some would dismiss it as a game. But the game can be deadly. These five young men have tried their luck at the sword. All five have died. All from the same cause—a heart attack. Is it curse or coincidence?”
The shot panned back to the Square. A line of soldiers in body armor and carrying what looked like Uzis formed a circle around the sword. Police officers facilitated the movement of people in line.
“What does it all mean?” the new anchor said. “We do not know, but this reporter knows one thing—good or bad, the Sword is undoubtedly the stuff of legend.”
Matt paused the broadcast.
“One gargoyle. Four Regulars. All dead. What does it tell you?”
“That the Regulars should go home,” a thin boy with black geek-chic glasses at the very front of the class said.
A girl sitting beside him giggled. Vane’s candidates laughed. Oliver made an angry sound and started to get up.
Matt signaled him to sit down. Oliver reluctantly complied. Matt stared at the boy with glasses. “Blake Emerson. If I may ask, when did you first arrive at Avalon Preparatory?”
Blake folded thin arms in front of him. “When I turned thirteen.”
“How many defensive spells do you know?”
“Over one hundred thirty,” Blake answered. Kids near him murmured in appreciation. Blake nodded with cool composure.
Matt leaned back on the teacher’s desk with equal composure. “How many have you used?”
Blake straightened. “Practical training doesn’t start until after graduation—”
“The answer is zero,” Grey said.
Matt nodded. “All practical magic is held off until a wizard has passed the wizard trial and becomes an apprentice. Then, they are put under the mentorship of an older wizard and taught how to utilize magic in real life.”
“And you?” Matt asked the girl sitting next to Blake. “When did you arrive?”
She replied, “Thirteen.”
“Twelve,” said the boy next to her.
The next boy over said, “Sixteen.”
Another girl said, “Twelve.”
Matt gave Blake a bland look. “Mr. Emerson, today you will begin practical training. By the time you leave here, you will have performed every spell you know. Is that acceptable to you?”
Blake touched his glasses. His body alive with a sudden surge of energy, he nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir.”
“And for those of us who don’t have magic?” I asked.
Matt gave me an enigmatic smile. “You will soon learn how wrong that question is. While Regulars don’t have magic, they can be taught how to fight against it. It is not something that is advertised, certainly, but it is possible. If you have a good teacher, you will learn that magic doesn’t guarantee someone the upper hand.”
Blake made an awed sound. “I had heard that Merlin could teach even the Regulars, but I thought that was myth. You must be even more powerful than legend says.”
Matt shook his head. “It is more important to be knowledgeable than powerful.”
I tapped a fingernail on the solid walnut table. “But you are…more powerful.”
Matt’s eyes flickered. “Yes, I am.”
There was a pause as we absorbed this.
“Let us proceed with today’s lesson. Open to the first chapter,” Matt waved a hand and all of our books flipped open. Pictures of men in different colored robes performing magic appeared. “We have found that a wizard tends to have strengths in certain areas. These areas are defined by the four elements—water, air, fire, and earth. For example, a water wizard generally tends to make a great healer. Air wizards have telekinesis. Fire tends to control energy. Earth has a close connection to growing things—shape shifting even.”
“Let us go to the next page,” Matt said. This time he let us flip the page. I sucked in a breath at the picture of a two-faced monster. One face looked normal. The other was the head of a beast—a furrowed brow Cro-Magnon with sharp fangs.
My heart beat faster. Morgan.
The boyfriend who I had safely forgotten until yesterday. My memories of Morgan as my boyfriend, although intense when I was in Texas, had faded after my first few months in Concord.
Morgan the monster filled me with violent repugnance. The musty smell of the book only sharpened the memories. I forced myself to breathe. Matt watched me from the front of the room. He took a step away from his desk and halted.
His gaze fixed on me, he continued, “This is a depiction of a gargoyle. The most significant obstacle you will be facing in the quest for the sword. The two-faces indicate how they look before and after they turn. A gargoyle can appear like any other person. When they turn, however, you see the beast inside. In addition to owning teeth that can rip your throat out, gargoyles have super-strength, super-speed, and great healing powers.”
“How are we supposed to fight something like that?” Grey asked.
“Knowledge.” Matt looked down and flipped our books to the next page. It showed a picture of the moon. “Gargoyles are at their most powerful at night. Catch them during the day and your chances of beating them go up significantly. There is a basic theory behind elements. While the types of our powers are defined by physical elements, the strengths of those same powers are tied to time. In the gargoyle’s case, it is the moon.”
I swallowed. “Can you get turned into a gargoyle?”
Matt looked at me for a moment before he shook his head. “They have been around as long as wizards… or the Regulars. They have always stayed together—their society is rigidly hierarchical—which I believe kept their numbers small during Arthur’s time. I don’t think that’s true any longer. But no… I have never heard of anyone being turned into a gargoyle. As far as I know, they are born that way.”
Matt flipped the page again.
It showed a picture of a silver sword. “And this is how you kill them.”
I sat up straight.
“Stab them with silver?” Oliver asked.
“No.” He glanced at me.
“Vane took its head off with a sword,” I said.
Several kids—except the wizard school candidates who hadn’t seen my memories—shifted in their seat uncomfortably.
Matt looked at me with a slight frown. “You have to chop off their head. Almost everything else and they will regenerate. You can bury them, but they will dig themselves out. Or if you were a powerful enough magician, you could blow them up. Disintegration may work.”
Blake scoffed. “Not even a Master has that much power.”
The girl wizard said, “You could supplement your power.”
“There is a high probability you would die,” said Blake.
Matt laid his hands flat on top of the desk. “Wizards are most likely to die from exhaustion.”
“We call it ‘flame out’,” Blake said.
Matt raised his brow. Blake’s cheeks turned red.
“Flame out,” Matt said. “A most appropriate phrase.”
Blake preened at the compliment.
I eyed Matt.
I remembered him in the woods battling the giant dragon. I asked, “How do you know how powerful a wizard is?”
Blake answered in a know-it-all tone, “The more powerful the wizard, the more magic they can do. Most wizards only have one specialization. A powerful wizard can have many.”
“How do you kill a wizard?” Grey asked.
“A Regular can’t,” said Mark from behind.
“They can indeed,” Matt corrected. “Without our magic, wizards are quite fragile. Take a shot from a gun. A stabbing. If there is no healer present, any wound can be quite fatal. Even with a healer.” Matt didn’t look at Grey or me. “Things can get out of control.”
“But you can probably turn them into a toad or something before they get close enough, right?” Billie, one of the more bashful Regulars, said.
The classroom laughed, breaking the tension.
“Brute force magic is expensive—hard to conjure and tiring to execute. Using the element of surprise is by far the best option,” Matt said.
Blake asked, “I still don’t understand why we are talking about this. The wizards are all on the same side.”
“Expect the unexpected,” Matt said. “The gargoyles have been amassing magic for decades. And you never know if they have turned a magician. There are always rogues. Not everyone agrees with the way the Council has decided to keep magic hidden all these years.”
A few gasps came from the front row.
“It is not possible,” Blake said. “The Council binds anyone’s power that is considered dangerous.”
Matt smiled. “A valid point, Blake. However, you have forgotten that the sword itself is a magical object. Its powers cannot be bound. You will face it.”
I watched the wistful look on his face with interest. “You talk about it as if it were a person.”
“It’s tempting to think of it as such. But it is not. It does not have emotion. It is worse than facing a person. The sword feels no compassion. It will not stop if you cry foul or if you try to surrender. It is extremely dangerous and it will test you. This training is to make sure you have the skills to pass that trial.”