The Schism (The Broken Prism Book 4) (24 page)

“Um, can I ask you to do something for me—just in case it takes me a few days longer to get back than I planned for?” he asked tentatively.

Master Asher compressed his lips briefly, understanding the meaning behind Hayden’s words, that he might not come back from the schism.

“Depends on what it is,” he replied smoothly.

“Could you or Torin watch over Bonk for me?” Hayden glanced at his familiar, who was perched on his shoulder, being unusually well-behaved. “You know, make sure he gets food and attention and all of that. If I’m gone for a really long time, Tess would probably take him at the end of the year, but in the meantime I’m sure he’d enjoy spending time with you guys and Cinder.”

Asher frowned thoughtfully at him and then gave him a curt nod.

“Of course we won’t let Bonk starve—not that he’s in any danger of it,” he teased the dragonling. “I haven’t seen a squirrel last around here for more than a day or two.”

“True,” Hayden agreed. “Well, I’d better go make sure I have enough knives and stuff before tonight. I’ll see you at the feast, I guess.”

Asher nodded and pretended to go back to work, though he was scanning the papers in front of him without his eyes really moving, so Hayden knew he was just putting up a front on his behalf. He left the Prism Master’s office and shut the door behind him, trying not to wonder whether he would ever see it again.

The next place he visited was the room he shared with Zane, Conner and Tamon. He nudged Bonk off of his shoulder and changed into a long-sleeved shirt, not knowing what kind of weather to expect inside the schism. He removed the Opalline Medallion from around his neck and stuffed it into his book bag, unsure of what else to do with it just now. He also emptied his belt of all weapons with the exception of the onyx void-prism, and removed his Focus-correctors. It felt strange not wearing them.

Since he didn’t own any appropriate hand weapons, his next destination was Torin’s cabin to see if he could borrow anything. He approached the log cabin and entered without knocking, finding the man standing in front of his cabinet of elixirs, ostensibly taking inventory, though he looked as distracted as his son had been.

He turned at the sound of Hayden’s footsteps on the floor.

“I was wondering if you’d come see me before you set off,” he sighed, looking suddenly much older and wearier than normal. Hayden had always thought of him as an energetic person, but Torin’s years seemed to weigh heavily on him right now. “I heard about the Council strong-arming you into going into the schism.”

Hayden grimaced and said, “It wouldn’t have happened if I’d had the good sense to listen to a warning I’d gotten earlier in the day.” He never thought he’d rue the day he
didn’t
heed the advice of a Trout.

“Tell me what I can help you with,” Torin frowned at him, like he was staring at a ghost. It was more than a little unsettling.

“I was wondering if I could borrow any weapons I can actually use inside the schism…a knife, maybe? It apparently didn’t occur to anyone that I don’t have my own collection of these things.”

Torin actually chuckled and crossed the room to a large cedar chest that was up against the back wall. Opening it, he began extracting weapons for Hayden to view.

“I’ve got long knives, short knives, a machete, a stiletto, a crossbow that you’ll never be strong enough to use…” he continued extracting things, setting them on the floor as he spoke. “Swords, a mace—huh, forgot I still had that, some flash-bombs, and a buckler.”

“Holy arcana,” Hayden said in amazement, “are you planning to fend off an invasion or something?”

“Never hurts to be prepared for anything, especially in my line of work. I go looking for monsters and magical creatures to study when I’m not at Mizzenwald; sometimes they want to fight.”

Hayden supposed he couldn’t argue with that logic. He’d never really considered the difficulty of finding magical creatures who were willing to come to Mizzenwald to be familiars, and what happened with all the ones who were less-than-friendly about their refusal.

“In that case, can I borrow a few knives, the buckler, and maybe a flash-bomb?” Hayden asked.

“Sure, take whatever you think you’ll need.” Torin gestured to the pile, watching Hayden sort through it carefully.

Feeling marginally better after he’d equipped his new weapons along his belt, he turned to thank Torin and found the man giving him a sad look.

“I’ll be fine,” Hayden assured him, wondering why he had to keep telling other people he’d be okay when he was the one who should need comforting. “Weird things have been trying to kill me for years and nothing’s managed it yet. If the Magistra couldn’t do it, I doubt a few ugly monsters are going to get so lucky. Besides, I wouldn’t want to give the Council the pleasure of dying conveniently for them.”

Torin shook his head and gave him a wry smile.

“You’re as stubborn as that boy of mine. You know, awarding you that medal was a very calculated risk on old Calahan’s part,” Torin continued slowly.

“Why is that? Other than the fact that he doesn’t want to inflate my reputation any more than it already is,” Hayden added.

“Well, that’s the whole of it—but I’m not sure you understand the significance of what he’s done, though I know he does. You already have an enormous amount of influence in the magical community, more than you even realize. But now? He gave you one of the highest, rarest honors in existence to force your hand, but if you come out of that schism alive and successful, it’ll come back to bite him. You’ll have enough influence to rival him and the rest of the Council for power. You could cast him out of his lofty position in disgrace.”

“I could get him
fired?
” Hayden asked, surprised by the possibility that a fifteen-year old could outrank the most powerful mage on the continent.

“Think about it,” Torin said pragmatically. “People have been screaming at the Council for months and months to address the problem of the schism, just like they were screaming at them last year to keep the sorcerers off our continent.”

“So?” Hayden prompted after a long moment of silence.

“So, they proved ineffective at stopping the threat of the sorcerers last year; you ended up solving that problem for them.” He paused for a minute to let that sink in. “Now they’ve made no progress on the schism, and they’re doing what? Sending you back in to take care of it for them,” he answered his own question. “If you actually succeed where they have failed, it will become apparent to everyone who doesn’t already realize it that you are the real power here—the one who gets things done while they sit around in their Crystal Tower. If you come back and decide to make their lives unpleasant—and it’s no great secret that you dislike each other—who do you think people will stand behind?”

Hayden absorbed that with raised eyebrows, the possibilities flooding his imagination.

“Calahan needs you to succeed, or the schism problem will still exist—but he also needs you to die,” Torin continued heavily. “Preferably by being trapped inside the schism while closing it, though I wouldn’t rule out assassination after the fact,” he stated blithely. “At an absolute minimum, you can expect a horrible smear campaign against you upon your successful return, though how he plans on discrediting you after decorating you with honors I have no idea.” He shrugged.

“That’s…a lot to think about,” Hayden said slowly.

“I know, and you certainly don’t need anything distracting you right now, but do keep it in mind—for when you return.”

Hayden nodded and left Torin’s cabin. He spent the remainder of his free time playing with Bonk and Cinder on the front lawns until classes let out for the day. As promised, Fia Valay presented him with a very official-looking document to sign before dinner that night, covered in different stamps and embossing, the ink still wet in some places. After reading it over carefully to make sure it said what he wanted, Hayden asked Valay to accompany him to the second floor to find a witness for his signature.

As they walked through the Pentagon to the eastern stairwell the Fia asked, “Where are we going?”

“To see if Master Willow will witness this for me,” Hayden answered easily, squeezing between a crowd of students passing him in the opposite direction. He tried to ignore the people who called out to him or tried to pat him on the back for being a hero, which was fairly simple as long as he walked briskly past them and pretended to be deaf.

I don’t even know half of these people.

“I was wondering who you would ask, since Asher Masters isn’t able to act as witness,” the Fia remarked, not commenting on the unwanted attention Hayden was receiving.

“Even if I could have him do it, I wouldn’t. I’m trying to spare him from thinking about the probability of my imminent death any more than necessary,” he admitted blandly, pressing on towards the now-empty Wands classroom. “Besides, I’d feel awkward having him read my Will since he’s in it,” he shrugged, entering the empty classroom and pleased to see that Master Willow was still tidying up some papers on his desk.

The Master of Wands looked up at the sound of his footsteps and said, “Hayden—what can I do for you?”

Ignoring the concern on the Master’s face—was
everyone
going to stare at him like he was a ghost until he left?—he said, “I need someone to be a witness while I sign my Will. Do you mind?”

Willow compressed his lips thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “Of course I don’t mind. It’s smart of you to make arrangements, in case the worst should happen.”

Hayden nodded and spread the papers out flat on the Master’s desk.

“Asher tells me he’s given you a void-prism, though he was awfully cagey with the details of how he came by such a rare item in the first place.” Master Willow gave him the kind of searching stare he used when he knew someone was hiding information from him.

“Just a lucky find, I guess,” Hayden shrugged, fooling no one.

Fortunately, Willow didn’t press him any further and simply asked if he could see the onyx prism.

“It’s the kind of thing one reads about but never expects to actually encounter during one’s lifetime,” he explained, his eyes lighting up with interest when Hayden passed it to him.

He held it up to the light and looked into it, adding, “Astonishing—it looks completely opaque. It’s hard to imagine that it will become useful inside of the schism.” He handed it back to Hayden, who tucked it into his belt.

“Asher assures me it will, or else this entire expedition is pointless.”

Willow waved a hand to dismiss the thought and said, “If he says it will work then I believe him. The man tries my every nerve some days, but he knows his prisms backwards and forwards.”

He watched Hayden sign the documents in front of him, frowning thoughtfully as he read the verbiage over Hayden’s shoulder.

“Clever, elevating him to master of a Great House in the event of your extended absence,” Willow added approvingly.

“I want him to be politically powerful enough to take on the Council in my stead, in case I can’t,” Hayden admitted, glad that the Master of Wands approved of his decision.

“I’m sure he’ll fulfill your wishes quite admirably on that count.”

They shared a grim smile over that, both of them imagining what form of punishment Asher could bring to bear on the Council of Mages if he put his mind to it. Then Master Willow and Fia Valay both signed the papers on the appropriate lines, and the latter rolled them up carefully and sealed them, concluding their business.

“Don’t tell Fia Eldridge I said this, but you’ve kind of grown on me these last few months,” Hayden turned to shake the Fia’s hand. “I’m glad I didn’t accidentally kill you with that Absorber last year,” he added.

Valay accepted his offered hand with a half-smile and said, “You know, I actually believe you. Take care of yourself in that schism, Mr. Frost—I’d rather work with you than Asher Masters any day.”

13

On the Other Side

Dinner that night was probably the strangest meal Hayden had ever sat through. With all the extra people in attendance, the enormous feast, and the general air of excitement in the room, he felt a bit like the only mourner at a festival—though, to be fair, Tess and Zane had the same fake smile that he’d been affecting for half an hour now plastered on their own faces. None of them wanted to give the Council of Mages the pleasure of seeing them worried and miserable, especially after Hayden shared his conversation with Torin with his friends.

“Well, that settles it,” Zane told him, ignoring the food that was piled on his plate. “Now you
can’t
die, if only out of spite.”

“That’s the plan,” Hayden said with more confidence than he felt, forcing himself to eat his steak and potatoes despite a total lack of appetite, because he had no idea how long he’d be inside the schism and whether there was anything edible on the other side.

Bonk was apparently not so worried about him that it affected his own appetite, because the dragonling was gorging himself on everything within reach: broiled chicken, ham casserole, potatoes, remnants of Hayden’s steak, beans and corn, and—for some reason—half a tureen of gravy, which he gulped down hungrily.

“Calm down little buddy,” Hayden told his familiar, trying to nudge him away from an apple pie. “If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sick.”

Bonk nodded once—like that was the idea—and kept eating.

Crazy dragon,
Hayden thought to himself, abandoning hope of ever understanding his familiar.

Master Asher sat down beside him after another half hour elapsed, shooting a nasty look at Calahan, who was sitting at the high table that had been left intact from the award ceremony that afternoon. The Chief Councilman didn’t catch the look, being too heavily engaged in a conversation he was having with Magdalene Trout.

“I see you’ve visited my father,” Asher greeted Hayden, gesturing to the buckler and the weapons on his belt before nodding to Hayden’s friends in acknowledgement of their presence. “Good—at least I know you’re heading into the schism with decent weaponry.”

“How much longer do you think I have to stay here and pretend to be cheerful for me to make my point to the Council?” Hayden returned. His cheeks were starting to ache from maintaining the fake smile on his face for so long.

“Depends on what point you’re trying to make,” Asher replied, eyeing Bonk with concern as the dragonling finished downing a bowl of vanilla pudding.

“I was hoping to show that they don’t scare me,” Hayden explained. “I guess it sounds dumb, but I don’t want them to see me worried, or to have to drag me kicking and screaming into the schism.”

“That’s not silly at all,” his mentor countered easily. “Pride is often our last bastion of comfort when all else abandons us.”

Everyone at the table considered that unexpectedly profound statement in silence for a long moment. Tess took hold of his hand underneath the table and gave it a gentle, supporting squeeze.

Bonk broke the tension by taking flight and gliding across the dining hall to the long table where their guests were eating. Hayden was just surprised he could lift off at all, given how much the little dragon had consumed during dinner. He nearly had a heart attack when Bonk alit upon Calahan’s shoulder, waited for the man to turn towards him, and then vomited all over him.

Hayden’s first wild hope was that maybe no one else in the room would notice, but every eye in the dining hall seemed to focus on the scene as Calahan jumped to his feet cursing and began attempting to wipe copious amounts of dragon-spew off of his face and robes. There were gasps and muffled laughs all around him, though the loudest of the latter came from the man sitting right beside Hayden. Asher let out a bark of glee and then doubled over, laughing so hard it became inaudible and pounding a fist against the table in front of him, not even attempting to reign in his joy.

Bonk gave Calahan an unmistakably derisive look and flew back to join Hayden, while the most important mage in the Nine Lands continued to wipe goo out of his hair with every napkin in sight. The spatter had narrowly missed Magdalene Trout, who made a face at the smell but didn’t look otherwise bothered by the sight of her boss covered in dragon vomit.

Hayden barely suppressed a laugh as he greeted Bonk, trying not to seem petty, but the Prism Master loudly declared that he’d personally take Bonk squirrel hunting the next time he was hungry as a reward for his good work, which slightly ruined the effect.

Calahan stomped out of the room a little more violently than necessary to clean himself up properly, and gradually the conversation in the dining hall returned to normal in his absence.

“Thanks for showing your contempt on my behalf,” Hayden told his familiar, stroking him lightly on the head.

Bonk belched loudly and hopped onto Tess’s lap, where he curled up and showed every sign of going to sleep.

Conner looked a little worried as he said, “But Cal’s a really important mage….He could punish you for what Bonk did if you aren’t careful.”

“What’s he going to do—throw me into a schism?” Hayden asked in his most derisive tone. “He’s already done his best to get rid of me—short of actually hiring an assassin. There’s really not much left for me to be afraid of at this point.”

“Hayden,” someone said quietly while tapping him lightly on the shoulder. He flinched in his seat and was surprised to see Master Laurren when he turned around. “Can I have a word with you?” the Master asked, turning to walk away from the table without waiting for a response.

I guess he assumes I’ll either follow or I won’t.

Releasing Tess’s hand, he got to his feet and followed after the Master of Abnormal Magic, but not before noticing that Asher had a curious look on his face. Whatever Laurren wanted to talk to him about, the Prism Master hadn’t been told about it in advance.

They found a relatively empty corner of the still-crowded dining hall, though Hayden thought they could probably have had their discussion in the middle of the room and not been overheard, given the level of general noise. Still, Laurren looked around to make sure there weren’t any eavesdroppers before meeting his gaze, forcibly reminding Hayden of his unusual blue-purple eye color and the reason for it.

“I wanted to give you a piece of general advice before you venture into the schism,” the Master explained. “Though to be honest, I’m not sure how useful it will be.”

“Uh, okay…” Hayden answered, raising his eyebrows in interest. He wasn’t entirely sure why he couldn’t receive advice in front of his friends, but didn’t argue the point.

Laurren took a deep breath and said, “When you have to choose, go left.”

Hayden remained silent for a few additional heartbeats, waiting for the rest of the advice, or at least some clarification. When it became obvious that nothing else was forthcoming, he asked, “Uh…any follow-up on that?”

“No, that’s the whole of it.” Master Laurren looked like he knew exactly how frustrating he was being and felt sorry for it.

“That’s a little nonspecific,” Hayden tried again. “Do you mean when I’m in the schism I need to turn left somewhere? Or sometime before I go inside? How will I know when?”

“I don’t know, and I have no idea,” the Master replied smoothly, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“That’s not really helpful in the way of advice…”

Laurren frowned.

“Look, I know it doesn’t sound like much, but just try to bear it in mind; I think it’s important.” He seemed to anticipate Hayden’s next question and answered it before he could ask. “I wanted to do something to help you, so I tried some…questionable magic—definitely falling under the heading of ‘abnormal’, so maybe it’s appropriate. Anyway, the point is, this particular series of spells and elixirs tends to grant the user a series of strange visions—occasionally of the future.”

Hayden’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You mean you saw the
future?
”

“Well, I think so, but it’s hard to say for sure. Some of the visions are just hallucinations, or dreams…some of them don’t mean anything at all. Sorting out the fact from the fiction is nearly impossible, but I’m reasonably confident about this one. At least, I have a feeling it’s important, and I never really regret following my gut on these things.”

“So you had a…vision, and it told you I needed to turn left at some time in the indeterminate future, either inside or outside of the schism?” Hayden frowned as Laurren nodded. “Any idea
why
I need to go left?”

“Because you might die if you do,” the Master said as though this made perfect sense.

Hayden raised an eyebrow at him in alarm and said, “Sorry, come again? You’re advising me to do something that might kill me?”

“Yes, because if you don’t go left, you will certainly die. This at least gives you a chance of survival,” he explained.

“But how will I know when to choose?”

The Master shrugged and said, “I have no idea. Just thought I’d pass the message along, for whatever it’s worth.” He clapped Hayden on the shoulder and said, “Good luck, kid. I hope you make it back. You’re the only one who got a perfect score on my test today.”

Startled, Hayden blurted out, “Even on the question about fracturing? Because I totally made that one up…”

Master Laurren nodded.

“Of course you did—everyone makes up answers in my class because no one knows the truth of things. You just do it better than most people. That creativity will serve you well in the future, assuming you live long enough to realize your full potential.”

On that ominous note he left the dining hall, and Hayden made his way back to his friends, mind reeling with new information.

“What was that about?” Zane asked as he sat back down.

“I’m honestly not sure,” Hayden replied truthfully, shaking his head to clear it and trying to focus on enjoying the time he had left with his friends.

Unfortunately, that time was running out fast, as Calahan returned in a fresh set of robes, hair wet but free of puke, to announce that it was time to send the heroes off to their deaths—he didn’t actually say that last part, but Hayden could tell he was thinking it.

Trying not to look like his heart was racing and his adrenaline was burning, Hayden got to his feet amidst roaring applause, deliberately avoiding eye contact with anyone who would break his calm veneer as he went to meet his two new teammates. He shook hands with Tanner and Harold, who were both at least twice his age but deferred to him as their leader.

We’ll see how long that lasts,
Hayden thought grimly.

It was almost a relief when they left the castle and stepped out onto the darkening grounds, as the last rays of sunset dropped below the horizon, if only for the fact that there were far fewer people out here to see them off. He had left all his friends in the dining hall after hugging Tess goodbye and shaking a few hands. He was also thankful to avoid any long, tearful goodbyes at the aperture of the schism itself, especially from Delauria’s sister—who he managed to avoid entirely in all the kerfuffle around him leaving.

Before they got to the opening, Calahan pulled Hayden to the side for a private word.

Looking mildly uncomfortable, the Chief Mage began with, “Look, Frost, I know you don’t much care for me—”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Hayden stated without apology.

Frowning at the interruption, Calahan continued. “I don’t like relying on you any more than I have to, but the fact remains that you were the best choice for this mission—even you must see that, if you could stop being self-centered for more than a few minutes.”

Hayden’s head nearly exploded.

He
dares
call me self-centered, when he’s the one who has used and manipulated people left and right, all to save himself from having to go into the schism and fight?! He’s the one who made me fight for my own money back because he was having such a nice time spending it for me, and he thinks
I’m
the one with a problem?!

He didn’t say any of this out loud, mostly because he didn’t want to give the man the pleasure of seeing him riled.

Calahan scowled at him and said, “You know, Hayden, I actually
do
want you to succeed, whatever my personal feelings towards you.”

Hayden looked the Chief Mage straight in the eye and said, “Cal, you’d better hope I die in there. Because if I make it out of that schism in one piece, I’m going to make it my personal goal to get you ousted from your comfy position in the Crystal Tower. I’m sick of you making my life difficult, and I look forward to returning the favor.”

He caught the unpleasant look on Calahan’s face, but only momentarily, as he had turned away the moment he’d finished speaking and was making his way to the aperture to join his two new best friends, like the Chief Mage wasn’t even worthy of his attention anymore.

A few of the Masters had come out to see them off, but none of them spoke as they watched Hayden, Tanner, and Harold approach the opening—probably trying to avoid any uncomfortable farewells.