The Breaker Page 12
“You’re a veritable library of stolen goods,” joked Alex, turning the slender notebook in his hands.
“And who says they are stolen? The ingratitude! Anyway, you cannot steal something which already belongs to you,” said Elias.
“These are yours?” Alex frowned, perplexed.
“In a sense. Ownership is a vague principle when you can melt through walls.” Elias cackled, grasping the fluid bottom of his twinkling ribcage and pulling upward sharply, his flowing form folding back in on itself, imploding in a mist of eerie darkness.
“Elias?” called Alex, but the shadow-man was gone.
Each time Elias appeared to him, Alex grew more and more aware of how little he knew about the spectral shadow creature who was always slipping into the darkness, appearing as he pleased. It was hard to imagine Elias as anything other than a fluid being, and yet there was a humanity to him, albeit buried deep in the peculiar galaxy of his strange, shapeshifting body. When Elias had said ‘you cannot steal something which already belongs to you,’ Alex had believed him, picturing a human version of the slippery shadow holding those books in hands of flesh and blood.
The thought made Alex curious. What had Elias been before he was a shadow-man?
Sitting alone in the empty room, Alex flipped through the Great Battles book with some interest, but his eye was continually drawn to the slender notebook. Opening it up to the first page, the paper yellowing with age and worn by time, Alex saw nothing written there except a small signature in the bottom right corner, the ink faded… It read Leander W. He couldn’t stop looking at the signature, running his finger over it, feeling for any residual magic, but there was nothing. Pausing with the half-moon of his thumbnail beneath the W, Alex wondered if it was merely hope that made him think twice about the letter, or if it meant something much closer to home. Could it be? Leander W. Leander W…That W antagonized him, toying with him, as he read it over and over.
Desperately, he flicked through to the next page, only to find the same smattering of jumbled symbols, too small to be diagrams but not neatly placed enough to be sentences. He didn’t recognize the symbols as any language he knew, and, as he flipped through the rest of the notebook, he realized the whole thing was made up of these doodles; there was no other complete word within the book that he recognized, save for that first page with that infuriating name on it.
Alex knew Elias had given it to him for a reason. There was a purpose to everything Elias did, even if it took a while for that purpose to become clear. A chill shivered through Alex as he thought of the shadow-creature. He knew how Elias worked. These weren’t gifts with no strings attached. There was a price for every prize.
Chapter 14
With the new restrictions keeping a tight leash on the students, there was little sanctuary to be found within the walls of the manor. One of those fleeting moments of refuge was in the lessons of Professor Gaze, a curious woman of undetermined age, who moved swiftly despite her bony limbs and hunched back. Her slim, craggy face was framed by tendrils of curling silver locks that shot out wildly in places from beneath a moth-eaten beret of black wool.
Alex had not had Professor Gaze as a teacher for very long, but had taken an instant liking to the crooked old woman and her mischievous grin. She was an affable sort, with a cheerful laugh and a natural way with the students that bordered on the maternal. There was an undeniable, deep wisdom about her that drew people in—something in the strange quality of her eyes and her voice that commanded attention. During class, she would zip between the desks, robe swishing, and rush to the aid of whoever was struggling with a spell, crying out good-naturedly at the royal mess they had made of it.
Gaze’s classes and manner were unlike any of the other professors’, in that they lacked the undercurrent of anxiety. Alex never felt as if there were eyes on him, sizing him up for an imagined duel in the near future, nor did he feel pressure to achieve, which took the strain off Natalie somewhat. They could all relax a bit in her lessons. It was easy to warm to the old woman; her lessons were useful and to the point, never trying to trip anybody up, but they were also filled with laughter and jokes and stories of her youth.
Everyone, Alex included, would listen, enthralled, as she spoke of herself as a young wizard, struggling with spells and the nonsense she and her friends would get up to inside the manor walls. Once, she even spoke of a roasting summer day spent on a riverbank, splashing and swimming in the deepest parts until a current snatched at the legs of a friend, forcing Gaze to perform a daring rescue mission. After Gaze had hauled her friend safely onto the bank, they shared a bottle of cold ginger beer and ate cupcakes from a wicker picnic basket she had been given as a present, with red-spotted napkins and real silverware to eat with. It dawned on Alex that this particular story was from before; before Malachi Grey had come for her and torn her away from her childhood days spent on riverbanks with friends and bottles of ginger beer and red-spotted handkerchiefs. A sad expression had flashed across her wrinkled face as she recounted the tale, but she had shaken it off with a whispered, “Anyway, that was a lifetime ago.”
Alex wondered where her wizard friends were now. Gaze was far older than Esmerelda or Lintz or Renmark or Derhin, so it seemed unlikely any of those spoken-about pals from her manor stories were among the faculty. She must have lost them a long time ago, Alex realized with a pang of pity. Alex couldn’t understand how she remained so cheerful. Yet, other than those brief moments of wistful sadness, she was a bundle of humorous energy, always ready to tell them a new tale. In her classes, Alex found an escapism unlike any other to be found within the manor.
Professor Gaze had an innate sensitivity to the world around her, seemingly able to pick up on small undercurrents in the atmosphere. Whenever she was near, Alex could sense her observing him—not in an aggressive or intrusive way, but simply as if she could sense something was amiss in him and was trying to pinpoint it, like a puzzle in need of solving.
“How peculiar,” she muttered to herself one day as she passed so close to him her wrist almost brushed his shoulder.
“What is?” asked Alex.
“Are you quite well, child?” she asked.
He frowned. “I think so.”
“Are you cold? You seem cold,” she said. “I must offer you a hot beverage. Can I fetch you a hot beverage? I have a variety of exotic and flavorsome teas.” That puzzled expression played upon her lined features as she waited for him to accept.
“Oh, I’m honestly fine, Professor,” insisted Alex, recalling the chill in his bones. He’d endured it for so long now that his Spellbreaker body had somehow adapted to it, and he barely noticed it anymore.
“But you are cold. You seem cold,” repeated Gaze. “Please allow me to fetch you a tea. Something simple, perhaps. Peppermint?”
“Uh, okay,” he conceded, watching her as she rushed off to fix him a mug of peppermint tea. She knew he was cold. He couldn’t help but find that curious. He didn’t shiver anymore; it was more of a dull numbness in the pit of his stomach, never really coming up to the surface of his skin like it used to. But Gaze had sensed it in him.
He drank the peppermint tea, mulling over the thought, as Gaze rushed around, helping students with their magical tasks. The hot liquid heated him from the inside out, and he was glad of it as he drained the mug. He guessed he must have been colder than he’d realized, though the tea only gave him a momentary respite from the insistent chill.
On many occasions after that, Alex came into the lesson to find a mug of steaming tea already waiting for him on the desk, in countless exotic varieties. Often, there was one waiting for Natalie, too.
Alex had overheard Gaze several times noting that Natalie seemed fatigued and should take a rest. When Natalie refused, claiming to be fine, Gaze had zipped off to her tea chest in the corner and whipped up a mug of pungent tea that wafted across the classroom, sour-smelling and heady. She had insisted that Natalie drink the infusion. For days, Natalie had been tellin
g Alex she was fine, though Alex had his suspicions about her wellbeing. With her doing so much, studying all hours of the day, helping him out in lessons, on top of her extra tutoring with Renmark, Alex knew she had to be exhausted, though she was too stubborn to ever tell him she was struggling. He watched Natalie drink the tea, his eyebrows rising in surprise as she downed the entire mug. Her mood seemed to instantly lighten. Alex could see Natalie’s tiredness fall away as Gaze gave a pleased grin.
“Excellent. You feel better?” she asked Natalie.
Natalie nodded, smiling. “I do, thank you.”
“Good. You let me know if you need more, and I’ll brew you up a batch of the good stuff,” cackled Gaze as she zipped away to help another student in need.
Even Jari could not escape Gaze’s perceptive energies. She moved past him one lesson, remarking with a high whistle that his aura was particularly angry that day. Unfortunately, she did not appear to have a tea that cured anger. At the end of the lesson, she simply asked that he stay behind for a moment. Jari had waved Alex and Natalie on, promising to catch up as he stepped back into the classroom. He never told them what she had said to him, but his mood had seemed to brighten.
It was undeniable that, as well as being a kind, compassionate teacher, Professor Gaze was also a powerful mage. There was an ancient quality to her, an imperceptible aura that pulsated with raw magical ability. Complex spells wove deftly from her fingertips as if they were a beginner’s glamor, moving like molten gold at every subtle whim. In her lessons, she focused on teaching them defensive strategies that could be used against Mages of all strengths and abilities. The spells themselves were intricate and mind-boggling, but she made them seem easier. She took the time to stand with every student and explain the ins and outs of the defensive design, making them understand what they were capable of.
When she paused beside Alex’s desk to watch the magic thread spool from his fingers with Natalie’s assistance, Gaze frowned, an amused smile on her thin lips.
“You can do this,” she said to him in a low tone, touching his hands. “You have the ability, child. A powerful ability,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper as she gave him a secretive wink. It didn’t need explanation; at first he felt terrified that she’d guessed his secret, but then he felt confidence swell in his chest as he took what she’d given the class and thought about how he might use it for anti-magical purposes. He and Natalie kept up the charade, but, always, Gaze would stop beside him and whisper the same words, touching his hand lightly, before offering up another cup of tea to combat his chill. It gave him more hope than any teacher or textbook in the school had done so far.
Every pupil seemed to adore her, and she had time for each and every one. No problem was too small, and she did not shy away from teaching them powerful magic that could very well have been used against her. At her age, Alex mused, perhaps she no longer cared if anyone challenged her. He watched as other students learned to deflect and snatch magic, but the thing that truly intrigued him was the creation of great, powerful shields. None were as powerful as Gaze’s, which seemed forged from pure, solid metal, but others had successes of their own, some conjuring screens of light that thrummed powerfully in curved arches around them. Alex made a mental note to try to inverse the method to create his own extra-strong anti-magical shield that night, in the peace of his dormitory; it was too cool not to.
With a conspiratorial glance around the room, Gaze rapped on the edge of the blackboard with her bony fist and waited for the students to fall silent.
“I’ve got a treat for you,” she whispered gleefully. “I’m going to show you something very secret and very rare—something none of you will ever have seen, I guarantee it! It’s so very exciting, so very, very special… but before I show you, you must promise not to breathe a word of it. That’s the deal, my little chickens.”
The room bristled with anticipation, wondering what it could be.
“Do you promise?” she asked as she flashed them an irreverent grin.
The room chorused a “yes,” their eyes focused on her as they waited to see what she would do next.
She stood perfectly still. The room nearly crackled with tension.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, from nowhere, a ripple of golden light surged into existence, manifesting rapidly into one of Gaze’s impeccable shields without so much as a flicked wrist or a twirled finger. It fizzed in the air for several minutes, then disappeared with a snap. As it faded, Gaze grinned, and the room erupted into rapturous applause. Magic like that did not come along every day, and Alex felt honored to be in the same room as it, wondering if he’d ever be able to conjure without using his hands. He could only guess how long it had taken her to conquer the skill within the walls of the manor, though he imagined she had had nothing but time.
She performed another. This time, a shivering ball of amber light crackled into life, exploding into the air as she threw it left and right, never moving from her spot at the front of the class. Her arms remained by her sides, and the ball spun, faster and faster, shards of glittering magic spinning off in fiery sparks. Smiling, she launched the ball into the audience. It stopped inches from the face of the closest student before being whisked back toward her again.
Professor Gaze swirled the ball in a figure eight, the energy leaving a glowing echo in its wake, like waving sparklers on the Fourth of July. The whole classroom was enraptured as she compressed the magic with a loud hiss, sputtering it out without so much as a wink or a gesture or a twitch.
As Gaze gave a kooky little bow, Natalie flashed Alex a look of excitement that screamed envy. Alex chuckled, though he felt the familiar creep of worry beneath his skin. Whenever Natalie witnessed intense power, Alex saw a concerning hunger in her eyes that he did not like one bit. Natalie was already proving herself to be a formidable Mage, but it did not seem to be enough; her hunger was unyielding.
It was all she could talk about as they left the classroom and headed to dinner. Alex listened as she whispered of Gaze’s abilities, her dark brown eyes glittering almost manically as she spoke of what they had witnessed, wondering how it was done and how she might gain the same skills. He had to bite his tongue, wanting to remark that it had most likely been the years of incarceration that had brought Gaze those skills. It was uncomfortable to watch his friend get so hyped up over powerful magic.
In the end, he could listen to no more. He got up and made his excuses to head to the dormitories. Jari asked if Alex wanted him to come too, but Alex shook his head, telling Jari to enjoy the extra bit of free time. Their evening class with Lintz had been cancelled, giving them an extra hour to themselves. Alex decided he would use the time proactively, instead of having the early night he had previously planned to indulge in.
In the quiet stillness of the dormitory, Alex pushed Aamir’s old bed back against one wall, opening up the space a bit. Encouraged by Gaze’s daily words to him, he stood in the center of the wider space and attempted to recall Gaze’s shielding spell. As it came flooding back, he began to invert the instructions.
First, he created a ball of silver and black between the palms of his hands and slowly let the anti-magic slip back into his body, a tendril at a time, instead of flowing outward in spirals. Next, instead of sucking the energy in to form the concave shield around him, he exploded the anti-magic out through his skin.
He felt a rush of cold around him as the shield surged forward, creating more of a barrage than a dome, which slammed hard against the far wall in an eruption of silver and white flakes. Useful, Alex thought, but not quite a shield.
Undeterred, he tried again and again, slamming barrage after barrage into the far wall until it glistened with melted ice.
It didn’t seem to be working. He racked his brain for the part he was missing. Then, it dawned on him: he had to hold the barrage in place to make it a shield. With magic, it was a pull and hold motion, so with his anti-magic, perhaps it would work if he pushed and held.
Excited by the progress he had made, he clapped his palms together, the shield disappearing in a flurry of snow around him. Flakes landed on his skin, but he did not feel their cold.
Silently, he thought of Gaze’s words. He could do this. He did have the ability. He had just needed some encouragement.
Chapter 15
Alex lay back on his bed, devouring the book on Great Battles Elias had given him. It was full to the brim with intense conflicts and heroic battles that read like the most nail-biting action novels, and yet they were non-fiction; they had actually happened, often to Alex’s disbelief. It told of vast numbers charging across battlefields as gold and white met black and silver, as sparks flew and the very air trembled amid the vibrations of clashing energies. It told of Spellbreakers riding through the skies on the backs of mythical winged beasts as the Mage cavalry thundered along the earth, churning up mud and dirt as they sent bolts upward toward the wings of the griffons and Thunderbirds who flew overhead, trying to bring them down to fight at ground level.
There were great warriors in both armies, sometimes locked in single combat—a fight to the bitter end, with only one destined to walk away. Some of the fiercest warriors on both sides were terrifying women who fought more ferociously, more boldly than many of their male counterparts. These formidable women called themselves the Howling Valkyries on the Spellbreakers’ side and the Gilded Vipers on the Mages’ side, and they roared and screamed as they stormed into battle, their powers piercing the air. It made Alex shiver to think of the sound they must have made, curdling the blood of any warrior who heard it.