The Schism (The Broken Prism Book 4) (23 page)

“Oh?” Hayden asked without real interest. “I assumed it was just as part of the dog-and-pony show that was designed to shame me into volunteering to die.”

The Fia pursed his lips in displeasure.

“I had no part in that fiasco, nor did the High Mayor, if that is any consolation. We were simply informed of what was happening, and he wanted to come along to see if you could be outmaneuvered or how you would handle things.”

“And why did you come with him?” Hayden asked heavily.

The Fia glanced around as though looking for a chair, and after not finding one, sat down on the grass beside Hayden.

“As the one who has been managing your estate for you, I noticed that you didn’t have any sort of Will and Testament on file, in the event of your demise. That’s not unusual, as you’re very young, but I’ve been meaning to bring it to your attention since you are in sole possession of an enormous number of assets and monies, and currently without family or heirs. Given what you’re about to do, I thought you might want to set things in order…just in case.”

“Oh,” Hayden said heavily. He hadn’t even thought about what would happen to all of his things if he died, though he supposed the Council would use it as an excuse to take control of everything again. It was a surprisingly thoughtful gesture on Fia Valay’s part to bring it to his attention, and to come all the way to Mizzenwald to do it.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he added slowly. “What all has to be decided? Please tell me I don’t have to look through all of my assets one line item at a time, or we’ll have to put off my excursion into the schism for weeks just to finish.”

Actually, that might not be so bad.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” the Fia replied. “Really you could do everything in broad categories: liquid assets like all the money in your various accounts, and non-liquid assets—your estate and controlling shares in the various legacy businesses you’ve inherited. You can further divide those categories as much or as little as you like.”

He had brought a notepad with him to record Hayden’s wishes. For a long moment Hayden simply stared at the blank page, feeling weary. Finally, after forcing his brain back into action, he spoke.

“Split all the money in half between Tess and Zane. They’ve been my friends even when that wasn’t a popular thing to be, and there’s no one else I can think of who deserves it more.” He sighed and closed his eyes.

“And the non-liquid assets?” Fia Valay prompted after a long moment of silence.

“Give it to Asher,” Hayden said decisively. The Fia raised his eyebrows in mild surprise, and he elaborated, “He’s the closest thing to family I’ve had since my mother died, and he has more fond memories of the house than anyone else who’s still alive. I’d rather put him in charge of a Great House than see it fall into the Council’s hands; they won’t be able to outfox him, and it’ll give him status that he doesn’t have right now to fight against them.” And he
would
fight against them on Hayden’s behalf, he was sure of it. Asher wouldn’t rest until he’d buried all ten of the Council members—figuratively, or possibly literally—because that’s the kind of person he was.

The Fia nodded appreciatively and jotted down a few quick notes.

“Would you like to write any letters, to be handed out in the event you don’t return from your journey?”

Hayden shook his head immediately.

“I wouldn’t even know what to say. Besides, setting up my Will is something I should have done as soon as I took control of the Frost family fortunes; writing farewell letters is different. If I say goodbye, then I’m giving myself permission to die—and I fully intend to return from that stupid schism, if only to spite that useless sack of skin, Calahan.”

“As you like,” the Fia conceded, standing up and brushing the grass off of his pants. “I’ll draft this up on a formal document with all the proper crests and seals, and you can sign it in front of a witness of your choosing this evening.”

“Thanks,” Hayden said, also standing. Valay’s visit had pulled him from his stupor and engaged his brain again. There were things he needed to do before disappearing into the schism tonight.

They walked back to the school together in silence and parted ways in the pentagonal foyer, with Valay walking up the eastern stairwell to the second floor while Hayden ventured through the school to the Prism Master’s office. He took a breath and knocked on the door, opening it without waiting for a response.

Asher was sitting in his usual chair at the large table they shared as a workspace, elbows on the table with his hands covering his face. He snapped to attention at the sound of the door opening, and quickly affected his usual relaxed posture.

“Ah, good, I was hoping you’d stop by before the feast tonight,” he said ‘feast’ like it was a nasty disease, withdrawing something from his robes and tossing it to Hayden, who caught it in mid-air.

It was the onyx prism that he’d brought to school from the Frost estate over a year ago. It felt strange holding it again, and Hayden raised it to his eye and attempted to look through it, even though he knew he wouldn’t see anything.

“Hard to believe this thing is going to be useful when I’m inside the schism,” he said while twisting it slowly in front of his right eye, eventually giving up and tucking it into his belt.

“You’ll be able to use it once you get inside, trust me,” Asher assured him.

“I do,” Hayden said quietly, and for a moment the look on the Prism Master’s face faltered and he seemed older. A moment later he was back to normal, motioning for Hayden to sit down with him.

“I take it you didn’t know the Council was coming to visit today?” Hayden asked his mentor, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt.

Asher shook his head. “If I had known, I certainly would have told you ahead of time. I probably would have also taken some action to prevent them from making it to Mizzenwald.” He gestured to the medallion that Hayden still wore. “They must have reached new levels of desperation to award you one of the highest honors a mage can receive. Building up your image as a hero must have been like swallowing acid to that snake, Cal.”

“That’s some consolation, at least.” Hayden said with a half-smile. “Oliver tried to warn me after breakfast but he was in a hurry and didn’t explain properly, and then I was too stupid to remember what he said until I was already in the dining hall and it was too late.”

Asher looked mildly surprised by that and said, “Magdalene must have told him. I always did respect that woman.” He sighed and changed the subject. “You haven’t asked me for advice yet regarding the schism. Don’t tell me you’ve already given up hope?”

“No, I intend to survive, if survival is at all possible,” Hayden answered. “Do you have any advice for how I might do that?”

The Master nodded.

“Follow the ley lines once you get inside. You’ll see them overhead—faint traces of magic that arc from the exterior aperture to the interior one. It’s the only way to avoid getting lost inside the other plane, because it is easily as large as the world we live in.”

“Oh, well that’s good to know. I never expected to get a map; things are looking up already,” Hayden forced a smile.

“You’ll want to leave all of your magical weaponry here—with the exception of the void-prism—or you might be tempted to use them if you panic. I don’t even want to think about what horrible things might happen to you if you actually managed to succeed in the effort, so best to leave them behind entirely.”

Hayden nodded.

“Obviously you’ll want to arm yourself with weapons that don’t rely on magic, anything you think you can use half-decently. How’s your hand-to-hand combat skill?”

“Better than it used to be, thanks mostly to my time with the Trouts this winter, but still not great.”

Asher looked mildly relieved, though Hayden couldn’t imagine himself trying to battle a seven-headed hydra bare-handed, possibly while instructing it on how to use the proper stance while eating him.

“Don’t let either of your escorts wrest control of the mission from you,” he continued seriously. “Those men are probably very brave and noble for volunteering, but they’ve no idea the horror they’re going to face inside of that place. I’ve often wondered if the air itself has some sort of fear-inducing chemical in it, because everyone who’s ever stuck their head into a schism has said it’s the most terrifying thing they’ve ever done. Right now they see you as a big-time hero—that’s one boon all of Calahan’s maneuvering gave you—but under panic they’re going to see you as a little kid who shouldn’t be making decisions for them, and you’ll need to be prepared for how to handle that.”

Awesome, just what I need when facing almost-certain death: traitors.

He said nothing, only nodding to show that he was taking in the information.

“Take some bandages and healing salves—nothing with magic in them, just standard issue—you don’t want to bleed to death from a wound that could have been bound effectively if you’d only thought to bring wraps.”

That did seem like the sort of thing Hayden wouldn’t think of until it was too late and then curse himself for as he lay dying.

“When you get to the end of the ley line and it’s time to use the Closing spell—”

Hayden was grateful that he said ‘when’ instead of ‘if’.

“—you’ll have about a minute after you cast it to get the hell out of there before you’re stuck inside, looking for another opening to emerge through. So cast your spell, drop the prism and go; the spell will continue to work until the prism is entirely consumed, whether you’re looking through it or not.”

“Um, just to be clear…” Hayden interjected slowly, “I am going to have to remove my Focus-correctors before I go into the schism, right?”

“Yes, of course, otherwise you’ll go nuts within minutes,” Asher nodded, looking confused by the question.

“Without my correctors, will I even have a full minute to make it out of the schism after I cast the spell?” Hayden asked hesitantly, adding, “I have a tendency to fully consume prisms the second I cast a spell because of the fluctuations in my Foci, remember? What if I cast the spell and the exit just snaps shut?”

Asher looked like he just swallowed something extremely unpleasant, and Hayden instantly regretted bringing it up. He should have just kept his mouth shut and figured it out on his own, rather than making the people who cared about him worry needlessly. Either it was going to work, or it wasn’t, and there wasn’t anything he could do to change that.

“Even
you
would be hard-pressed to wipe out a mastery-level prism instantly. Remember in the Forest of Illusions, when you were running about in a blind panic trying to take down those Suppressors for us? Even then, with your adrenaline peaked, you didn’t consume your mastery-level prisms in one go, so I think you’ll be alright.”

Yeah, but I was wearing my Foci then. After they broke, I accidentally blew up three ships when trying to start a simple fire.

Deciding not to voice the contradiction, Hayden nodded, mildly reassured but still worried, though he took his own advice and let the subject drop.

“Aside from the ones I’ve already seen, what kind of monsters can I expect in the schism?”

“Anything you’ve heard of on this side of the opening, you could potentially encounter on the other side. That plane is a reflection of ours, albeit a strange one,” Asher explained.

“How long do you think it will take to get to the exit? Assuming I encountered nothing to slow me down, which I know is a big assumption…”

“With the size of the aperture…maybe a day? Possibly longer; all I can give you is a rough estimate.”

“Do you think I can last that long without getting overcome by the distortion?” Hayden asked bluntly.

“Honestly…I’m not sure,” Asher sighed, frowning. “If anyone can do it though, you stand by far the best chance. I like to think that if you move at a fair pace that you’ll be able to manage without too many ill effects.”

“And you’re sure that it will go away once I come back to this realm, even if I am nuts in there?” Hayden asked uneasily, because he had sworn to himself a long time ago that he wouldn’t turn out like his father, and the thought of going into a place that would automatically warp his mind like the Dark Prism’s was not at all comforting.

“Of that I
am
sure,” Asher said immediately. “The effects of distortion only last for as long as you’re on the other side of the schism. That weird magic will be pressing against your mind, streaming in through your Foci. Once you remove yourself from the other plane, that force vanishes and you should immediately be back to normal; I’ve seen it work several times.”

Hayden was only partially reassured. Asher must have anticipated his next question because he said, “What was done to your father is different. His distortion wasn’t coming from the outside, he was inflicting it upon himself, voluntarily opening his mind up to it over and over again for years. The problem wasn’t in his Foci, it was in his brain, which is why it could never get better.”

Finally relieved of that particular concern, Hayden exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

He hesitated before opening his mouth again, not wanting to sound pessimistic but also not wanting to leave anything undone.