The Secret of Spellshadow Manor 2: The Breaker Read online

  The image of one Spellbreaker in particular, Kira the Merciless, stuck in his mind because of how the book described her on the battlefield. A savage woman, more demon than Breaker, her eyes burning red as she gazed down upon the sea of blood she had drained from the bodies of two thousand men, struck down by her hand. She stood atop her mountain of flesh and bone and lifted her godless face to the sky, screaming loud for all to hear as she pounded the armor plate on her chest, the sound inciting fear in all who heard. There was no part of her person that was not drenched in the blood and ash of others. In her hands, she held up great clusters of glowing red fronds, far more frightening than any spilt blood, for they were the souls of the departed, their life magic torn from within them and held aloft by Kira’s dark energy. It is said her eyes burnt bright red for all the souls she had stolen.

  She sounded horrific to Alex, and yet he knew the Mages had done worse to his kind, knew they had had more vicious wizards and witches than her among their ranks.

  The book was different from the ones he had picked up in the library in that it didn’t take sides; there was no good versus evil, only Mages versus Spellbreakers, and Alex couldn’t get enough. It was addictive, reading the tales of ancient soldiers and their daring feats of life and death. Naturally, he rooted for his side, but he was not without sympathy for the Mages. They had lost big numbers too, in some of the most notorious battles, like the Struggle for Elder’s Edge and the Battle of King’s Rock, but they had never lost as many as the Spellbreakers. Each Spellbreaker victory was met with harrowing deeds beyond the battlefield—the torture and murder of innocents who barely had the strength to put up a fight. Punishing the Spellbreakers for winning with their continued persecution.

  Jari had disappeared off to the library, and Alex decided he’d like to get Natalie’s opinion on a few of the battles he had read within the leather-bound tome, thinking she’d appreciate some of the legends around the Howling Valkyries and the Gilded Vipers, if nothing else. He was curious as to whether she might know anything about the ‘great sacrifices’ that were mentioned, whether that meant the use of some sort of darker magic, and how that might have been used in battle. If anyone knew about the intricacies of dark magic, it was Natalie.

  He got up and made his way through the hallways toward the girls’ dormitories, moving easily through the apparent barrier that had been put up to keep boys away without a female escort. Arriving at number twenty-eight, the brass numbers dulled, he knocked lightly on the wood and waited, the book tucked beneath his sweater to avoid any unwanted attention.

  Alex’s eyes went wide as Ellabell answered; they hadn’t spoken much of late.

  “Is Natalie in?” he asked, feeling stupid at his initial surprise. It seemed he had almost forgotten she was Natalie’s roommate.

  Ellabell shook her head, her brown curls bouncing. “She’s at one of her extra sessions with Renmark,” she answered stiffly.

  Alex wasn’t exactly pleased to hear Natalie was with Renmark yet again, but still, he smiled, seeing the valuable opportunity he had been stupid enough to overlook until that moment. Ellabell was infinitely more knowledgeable about these historical matters than anyone Alex knew. She was the perfect person to ask.

  “How did you get here?” she questioned.

  “Well,” Alex replied smoothly, “you must know I have my methods by now…” He smiled, trying to act casual, before quickly moving on. “Anyway, forget Natalie—now I’m here for you,” he stated, and a frown passed across her arched eyebrows.

  “Me?” asked Ellabell, sounding suspicious.

  Alex nodded. “Yes, you’re perfect,” he said, and Ellabell’s cheeks turned an interesting shade of pink.

  “Perfect for what?” She spoke hurriedly, lowering her gaze.

  Alex realized what he had said and felt his throat dry up a little as he looked at Ellabell’s downturned face, noting her flush. He felt the sudden urge to touch her shoulder, encourage her to lift her chin so that she would look at him again, but didn’t dare reach out to do so, worried how she might react.

  “You know all there is to know about magical history, and I need a bit of help with some magical history,” he explained, wanting her to meet his eye, for this awkwardness to be over.

  “What kind of magical history?” she asked, peering over the top of her spectacles and leveling her gaze once more in his direction.

  “I was hoping you could tell me some stuff about the great battles of the magical world.” He smiled, pleased to see the discomfort gone from her face and replaced with curiosity.

  “Which ones?” she asked.

  “Well, I stumbled across some books and thought they were pretty cool. I hadn’t really seen anything like them before, so I’m not sure what to make of them. They’re all about the battles between the Spellbreakers and the Mages, but not any I’d read before. I just wanted to learn a little more about the biggest ones. You know, the most important ones in our history.” He shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t see through his white lie. If anyone had read through the entire contents of the library, it was Ellabell, and Alex wasn’t sure he could pull the wool over her eyes.

  “You’re really interested in magical history?” Ellabell frowned, giving him that look of suspicion he had come to associate with her. There was uncertainty too beneath the glint of her blue eyes, as if his concerns were valid and she didn’t quite believe his story.

  “I really am,” he insisted.

  “Fine,” she said curtly.

  Alex was a little surprised. “You’ll help me?”

  “Yeah, I’ll help you.” She stepped back into her dorm room and gestured for him to come in.

  “Oh, we’re staying here?” Alex faltered, his voice catching in the back of his throat.

  “Unless you want to go somewhere else?” Ellabell asked, an amused smile pulling at the corner of her full lips.

  “Well, I was thinking the library, but I guess this is okay,” he said quickly, trying to recover his nonchalance as he stepped past her into the room.

  The room was more or less the same as it had been the last time he’d been there to visit Natalie when she was practically dying from the chokehold of Derhin’s curse, but it looked a little more homey. A few more lights had been strung up on the walls alongside sketches and watercolor paintings of what Alex guessed was home for both Natalie and Ellabell. He didn’t dare ask, but they were pretty to look at. On the far window, cut-out shapes of multi-colored material clung to the glass, casting streams of vibrant light onto the floor and beds that furnished the sparse room.

  “Welcome,” teased Ellabell, as she sat on the edge of her bed. Alex pulled up one of the desk chairs and sat down beside the window, feeling weird about sitting on one of the beds.

  “So?” he said, trying not to sound too impatient as he waited for Ellabell to begin.

  “So, you wanted to know about battles?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah. The biggest ones.”

  “Well, there are a few big battles in our known history, but there is one very famous one. It is sometimes referred to as the ‘greatest battle of them all,’ if that’s what you’re interested in?” she began, looking to him for confirmation.

  Alex was intrigued. “Sounds good.”

  “It was the biggest battle in recorded history, and also, funnily enough, the last one. It happened in the winter of 1908, and is known more commonly as the Fields of Sorrow due to the number of dead. Huge losses on both sides, but it’s said that this was where the last Spellbreaker fell,” she explained, her voice enthralling Alex as he listened.

  Fields of Sorrow rang a bell in Alex’s head, but in that moment, he couldn’t quite place where he had heard the name before. He almost had it, when Ellabell’s words distracted him from his thoughts.

  “It was a vicious battle that raged for almost a fortnight, with severe casualties every day from both sides. Thousands of infantry Mages and Spellbreakers were wiped out within the first week, along with th
e beasts that served as cavalry and air support,” she continued, her memory an awe-inspiring thing as she recounted the tale, remembering it perfectly from whichever book she had absorbed the knowledge from. “Bodies were strewn across the battlefield, unable to be moved, as magic and anti-magic flew between the two sides. Now and again, they would charge one another, attempting to smoke out the strongest, but usually it was the charging side who suffered against hidden traps and buried clockwork ballistics.”

  Alex was astonished, feeling the familiar spark of anger beginning to glimmer into life in the pit of his stomach. Frowning slightly at Ellabell, he wondered how it was that she had come to know so much. Curiosity encouraged the question to his lips.

  “How do you know so much about this?” he asked, sounding a touch suspicious.

  Ellabell looked at him strangely. “I have my ways.”

  “What ways?” He couldn’t help but press her for an answer.

  “This manor has secrets—they’re useful if you know where to look,” she replied cryptically, pushing her spectacles higher onto the bridge of her nose. A nervous tic, Alex thought. He had touched a nerve.

  “Where would you look?” His attempt at nonchalance fell flat.

  “It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you that.” She smiled, but there was a hint of a warning in her sparkling eyes not to press further. “Look, are you okay? You seem distracted. If you want to talk about this another time, we can,” she ventured.

  “I’m fine. Sorry, I was just curious—I am invested in what you were saying, I promise.” He smiled shyly, trying to push away the itch of resentment and the tingle of intrigue as he continued to listen to her story.

  “Are you sure?” She frowned, seeming to test him.

  He nodded. “Please, go on.”

  “Well, by week two, the numbers had dwindled away to barely more than a small band of each as the battle reached its final days. The greatest warriors from each side were all that were left. On the magical side, the twenty crowned princes and princesses of the eight Royal Families, battling alongside some of the most famous heroes and heroines in history. On the other side, the Heads of the six main Spellbreaker bloodlines and their grown children, fighting along with some of the most terrifying Spellbreakers that have ever been known to walk the earth. If you get a chance, look up Kira the Merciless; she was a monster,” Ellabell said in a hushed tone, as if Kira might somehow hear.

  Alex kept quiet, not wanting to admit he had already read up on the infamous Spellbreaker. It was strange to hear Ellabell mention the Spellbreaker bloodlines when he had kept them so close to his heart. He wondered suddenly if Ellabell might know any more about the Spellbreaker families. He made a mental note to ask her later.

  “Go on,” encouraged Alex.

  “So, these two remaining sides fought fiercely over the final two days, until only two remained on the battlefield, locked in single, one-on-one combat. Malachi Grey and Leander Wyvern,” she explained, the names sending two sharp shivers down Alex’s spine.

  Leander W., Alex thought. It had to be the same one.

  “There was only one difference… Leander was the very last of his kind, whereas Malachi Grey was merely the last of the Mage army. It was a futile fight, but Leander fought valiantly to the bitter end. It is thought the battle raged for six hours, the pair evenly matched almost to a stalemate. Witnesses have said it was in fact Leander who was the victor, standing over a wounded and half-dead Malachi, with a blade of anti-magic held in his hand, ready to deliver the final blow to Grey. But then Leander was ambushed by a newly arrived platoon of Mage infantry, sent from a different battleground.

  “They jumped him from behind and held him to the ground, shackling him with specially crafted manacles that absorbed the power of any magical or anti-magical being. They strung him up in the center of the battlefield, to the top of a crudely built scaffold, and tortured him to death. A hundred wizards against one powerless Spellbreaker, though he stayed alive far longer than any of them imagined he would, his cries chilling the blood of any who watched as his eyes seemed to burn with a blinding silver light, his broken body punished by wave after wave of magical artillery. They say it was Malachi Grey who dealt the final blow, with the last bit of strength he had.” A misty glitter of something like sadness hung in Ellabell’s eyes as she glanced across to Alex.

  Alex was speechless. He could not bring any words to his mouth. Rage gripped his chest in a vice, blood rushing in his ears. Nausea and distress fought for precedence within him as his gaze dropped to the ground, the hatred searing through his veins.

  “It wiped the Spellbreakers from existence, but there was a price to pay. Historians aren’t exactly sure of the meaning, but the last sentence of Stormholt’s Essay on the Fields of Sorrow says ‘a great evil was set free that day, as the essence of the last Spellbreaker soaked the battleground.’ Nobody is quite sure what that means, but I’ve always imagined it to be a metaphor for the genocide of the Spellbreakers,” she added with a bashful shrug, adjusting her spectacles as she gave Alex her educated opinion.

  Still, Alex said nothing. However, his thoughts were distracted a little by the word ‘essence.’ It intrigued him; they could have picked ‘blood’ or ‘body’ or any such word, but they had chosen ‘essence’ instead. Why would they choose that word over any other? It felt wrong to Alex—out of place, somehow.

  He looked to Ellabell. “Why ‘essence’?” he asked, his voice tight with emotion.

  “What do you mean?” She frowned.

  “Why did they use the word ‘essence’?” he repeated, his eyes narrowing.

  “It’s just a word, Alex. Writers like to use interesting words,” she said simply.

  “It’s a strange word to use, though, don’t you think?”

  “Not particularly. It’s just a word,” sighed Ellabell.

  “Where did this happen?” He changed the subject quickly, feeling the burn of his anger threatening to break loose.

  “Here,” she answered solemnly.

  “What?” spluttered Alex, his pulse racing.

  “Well, not right here, obviously, but you can see the last stronghold of the battle from the manor. The final battlefield from the Fields of Sorrow. There were others where the battle was fought, but the one you can see was where it all ended—the place where the last Spellbreaker fell. It’s in a bit of a state, but that’s the place,” she said.

  Alex felt his body tense up as he envisioned Aamir, standing beside him on a hill overlooking a desolate, smoking field, more than a lifetime ago it seemed. It was the last vestige of a war that had raged, seemingly, since Mages and Spellbreakers had been placed on opposite sides of an invisible line. This was one last field in countless fields, playing host to the final gasp of his people. The place Leander had made his last stand with those who were left, backed into the corner of this wretched, scorched piece of earth, knowing everyone else was dead across the other battlefields. Alongside the burning anger for the murder of his people, he felt a sudden sadness for the loss of his friend, who had shaped so much of his first year at the manor.

  “Why did Mages hate… the Spellbreakers so much?” asked Alex in a whisper, the word ‘us’ almost slipping from his lips.

  Ellabell shrugged. “Natural-born enemies, I suppose. Magic and anti-magic, good versus evil,” she said evenly, her expression thoughtful.

  “Maybe you’re right,” sighed Alex, though he couldn’t say for sure which side was which.

  Chapter 16

  Alex was in need of distraction after Ellabell’s storytelling. His mind was overwhelmed with what she had told him, and it was proving difficult to sift through it all to focus on any one fragment in particular. There was so much to take in. He had all but run from her dorm room, his head foggy with confusion and sadness. Pain and anger had made his sudden departure from Ellabell an awkward one, but he hoped she would forgive him. He had stood up quickly, his eyes misting, making his excuses as kindly as he could through gritt
ed teeth, claiming he was overdue at a private tuition. But he wasn’t sure he had convinced her. He at least hoped she wouldn’t bear a grudge against him for his sharp exit.

  The knowledge that Malachi Grey had been the last on the battlefield with the mysterious warrior Leander Wyvern haunted Alex, a shiver running through him as he thought of the gray ghost in the flesh and what he had done to Leander. The ambush dashing Leander’s last hope. Alex knew it couldn’t be coincidence that the notebook Elias had given him bore the same lettering as Leander’s name, and he wished the shadow-guide would stop being so elusive so that he could ask a few blunt questions and get some straight answers for once.

  It seemed a sick tribute to have the battlefield itself behind the school, for all the young wizards to see. At least it wasn’t used as a method of teaching—to march the students up the hill and make them look at the devastation as they basked in the victory of the Mages and the death of an entire race. At least there was that, Alex thought; the old Mages had the decency not to gloat. It reminded him of history lessons back in the world beyond the manor, whenever World War II came up in the curriculum. Students had stared wide-eyed, shifting in their seats with discomfort as the teacher showed grainy pictures of yellow stars, striped clothing, and concentration camps, horrified that the scenes had once been reality.

  Alex was frustrated and in need of somebody to talk to, but he could find neither of his friends anywhere. Pacing the corridor outside Renmark’s classroom, Alex waited, but Natalie never appeared. He checked the library, the dull study hall, and the empty mess hall, but could see no sign of Jari. By the time he had done two laps around the manor, he was at the end of his tether. He needed to speak with them, vent his pain and get their opinion, but his friends had all but disappeared from the face of the earth.