The Schism (The Broken Prism Book 4) (5 page)

“But you still haven’t started paying me back.”

“No, because you haven’t asked for anything back yet.” She shrugged. “Which is why we’re here now.”

Edgar, who had been watching them in silence, now added, “There is still a little time for you to win your case against them, even if you lose during this first attempt. However, it will be more difficult for you to win in successive trials, because once the Council sees how serious you are about it, and that you’re being trained up in legal matters, they will get much more serious about their own tactics to outsmart you.”

Hayden frowned at the thought of that and asked, “But how do we still have time? If they really took an unsigned loan from me—and I certainly don’t remember signing anything for them—then I only had two years to demand my stuff back, but they started taking the money when I was ten and I’m almost fifteen.”

Edgar waved a hand and said, “There is a corollary to the Statute of Remittance to offer minors some protection. Anything borrowed from children does not fall subject to the two-year countdown until you come of age, which is why we still have several years before all hope is lost.”

“Nice to know,” Hayden muttered, with a scathing glance at Mrs. Trout.

“Don’t turn your anger towards me,” She flattened her lips at him in defiance. “This is how the game is played. If you don’t want to lose, then learn the rules.” She stood up. “I’ll be training with Oliver. Edgar, do what you can for him and let me know what kind of progress you’ve made at the end of the day.”

Edgar tilted his head deferentially to her as she left. Then he turned back to Hayden as though there had been no interruption in their conversation.

“Now, let me begin by explaining the difference between inheritance and restitution…”

3

House Colors

After spending a day in the Trout estate cramming boring, confusing, and often conflicting legal information into his head—punctuated only by his grueling etiquette lessons during meals—Hayden vowed to never complain about his workload at Mizzenwald again. Compared to this torture, hours of homework and battling monsters was a piece of cake.

To top it all off, Magdalene’s idea of a treat was to give him a break before dinner to go ‘try out the combat arena’ in their backyard with Lorn. The worst part was that the prospect of possibly getting beaten to a pulp by one of his worst enemies was actually the high-point of his day.

So he left Edgar in the library and trudged outside, head spinning with a polyglot of formal legal definitions and his own jumbled interpretations of them, trying to stretch his muscles as he walked to limber up.

The backyard boasted several arenas for different kinds of fighting, which he had only briefly admired from his bedroom the night before. Now he approached one that had benches along the perimeter of it, as well as a freestanding cubby that Lorn had already tucked his belt of magical weaponry into before stretching his limbs.

Under normal circumstances Lorn probably would have shot a derisive sneer in his direction, but his hand-to-hand combat instructor was still outside with them in the falling daylight, and he resisted the temptation with obvious difficulty.

Must be nice to have your own personal trainer,
Hayden thought ruefully.

Hayden stopped short in front of the instructor and offered his hand.

“Hello, I’m Hayden Frost.”

The man had a surprisingly strong grip given that he must have been in his early sixties, his hair full-grey and styled like it was cut roughly with hedge trimmers. Lines of wear and age creased his skin, but he had a kind face and moved easily, the aging in his face not evident in the way he carried his body.

“Well met, Mr. Frost,” he shook Hayden’s hand with the professional courtesy adults typically only used to greet their equals. “Hobius Grendel, Master of Non-Magical Combat here at the Trout estate.”

Hayden recovered from his surprise at being addressed as Mr. Frost and said, “Pleased to meet you, Master Grendel. I’m afraid you’ll probably find my skills far below what you’re used to seeing around here; I may come from a Great House, but I’ve never had any hand-to-hand training before.”

Grendel gave him a wry smile and said, “We all start from the same place.” He beckoned him towards the cubby area. “There are no magical weapons allowed in my practice arena, so remove your circlet, belt, and any other weapons you’ve got hidden in your clothes or shoes and deposit them in here.”

Hayden had never really considered hiding weaponry outside of his belt before, and immediately wondered if that was something other mages typically did to catch their enemies off guard. He tried to imagine stuffing a prism down his sock and how uncomfortable and awkward-looking that would be, and suppressed a laugh.

He removed all of his magical gear as directed and stepped into the arena with Lorn, who looked like he was itching for the chance to show him up in combat. Hayden was just glad that his friends weren’t here to witness this.

“Alright, I need to see how bad your technique is before I know how to fix it,” said Grendel bluntly, “so get to it. Lorn, I expect you to be on form regardless of what your opponent is doing.”

Lorn dropped into a crouch and charged at Hayden before he had a chance to mentally prepare himself, and the latter jumped out of the way and nearly tripped over his own feet as he spun around to prepare for the next attack. Not wanting to give Lorn a chance to plan his next move, Hayden lunged at him and tackled him to the ground, landing heavily on top of him and trying to pummel anything he could reach with his fists. Lorn had the wind knocked out of him from the impact with the ground, but he still managed to bring his arms up to block all of Hayden’s blows, taking advantage of an opening and elbowing him in the ribs, knocking Hayden to the ground and freeing up his own legs.

Hayden kicked him hard in one knee and Lorn’s leg buckled, but he recovered fast enough to tackle Hayden and pin him to the ground so that he couldn’t use any of his extremities to fight back. For a minute Hayden struggled against him on his back, trying to break Lorn’s hold, but though the blond boy’s chubby cheeks were red and splotchy with the strain of holding him, he didn’t break his grip, and Master Grendel eventually stepped in and called an end to the round.

Lorn looked like he’d rather strangle Hayden than help him to his feet, but he grudgingly conceded the latter and they both stood, panting and assessing their injuries.

“Well, that was the most graceless thing I’ve seen in years,” their instructor announced cheerfully, like he had just watched a fascinating carriage crash and wasn’t sure what to make of it yet.

“It’s not my fault he fights like a barbarian,” Lorn grumbled, massaging his sore knee.

“That’s true, and yet you let his ‘barbarian’ moves get you onto the ground and in a position of weakness. I keep telling you that no matter how refined your technique is, you must plan on facing opponents who have not had the benefit of your formal training.”

Lorn mumbled something inaudible, looking sulky, which his instructor ignored.

“As for you, Frost,” he turned to Hayden, “the first thing you need to learn is when to hold your ground and when to give way. If you’re going to clash head-on with an opponent, there are a number of different stances you can use to anchor your body and resist being knocked aside.”

He beckoned for both boys to stand facing him, and Lorn scowled at doing beginner’s work but didn’t argue.

“When Lorn charged you, you chose to move out of the way rather than match strength with him, but as you didn’t have time to move properly you nearly tripped over your own feet. When your opponent is that close to you, it’s often better to brace yourself for impact and make him regret charging you in the first place.”

Master Grendel angled his body so that his right hip was tilted towards Lorn, spreading his feet so that most of his weight was resting on his left foot, positioned behind him.

“Lorn, charge at me,” he commanded.

Lorn winced as though expecting pain and said, “Do I have to? Why can’t Frost do it?”

“Because I want him to watch and understand. He’ll get his turn, don’t you worry about that.”

Still looking unhappy, Lorn retreated a few more feet and then dropped into the crouch he had used before attacking Hayden, charging his instructor. Hayden watched with satisfaction when he collided with the Master, who shifted his weight to accommodate the blow and managed to punch Lorn in the stomach with one hand while catching him with the other and throwing him to the ground.

He helped a coughing, panting Lorn back to his feet, and the younger boy stood hunched over and gasping for air while Grendel addressed Hayden.

“You see, if you can anchor your body sufficiently, you are able to absorb much more force than if you’re simply standing normally. As you also saw, if your handwork is faster than your opponent’s, you might even be able to outmatch him before the fight has really begun.” He gestured to Lorn, who was still catching his breath.

“That makes sense,” Hayden allowed, “I just didn’t really have time to think about all of that when he was running at me.”

“That is why you must practice continuously, so that you don’t need to think about it. It needs to be a reflex that your body calls upon without conscious thought.” Master Grendel nodded. “Now, let me show you a few basic stances and then we’ll let Lorn test them out.”

Lorn spent the next twenty minutes sitting on the sidelines sipping tea, while Master Grendel showed Hayden four different defensive stances and then drilled him over and over again until he could drop into them properly without having to think about his positioning. Every time he messed up and put his foot a few inches to the left of where it was supposed to be, or dropped his right shoulder too far, Grendel would tap the offending body part and make him do it again ten more times.

He was surprisingly sore by the time the Master declared him good enough for the actual practice to begin, using muscle groups he didn’t normally engage at the same time. Hayden took a moment to shake out his cramps as best he could while Lorn got into position.

“Alright, take a run at him, but don’t go full speed and try to kill him. Frost, you will choose the stance you think most appropriate given Lorn’s approach, and do your best to hold it without getting thrown to the ground.”

Both boys nodded to show their understanding, and when Lorn started running at him, Hayden dropped into the first stance that came to mind and braced himself. Lorn crashed into him with slightly less force than usual, which was good, because Hayden was knocked flat onto his back as it was.

Grendel helped him to his feet without looking surprised or disappointed.

“Not the ideal stance for that bout; tell me why.”

Testing his arms and legs to make sure his back wasn’t injured, Hayden replied, “Um, because he ducked down low before he hit me, which put all of his weight at my middle?”

“Exactly right.” Grendel nodded approvingly. “What would a better choice have been?”

Hayden showed him rather than explaining, and the Master nodded again.

“Alright you two, line back up and let’s go again.”

They spent another hour like that, with Lorn attacking him in different ways and Hayden doing his best to keep from getting annihilated. His entire body ached from being repeatedly pummeled and he knew it would be a hundred times worse the next morning, but he couldn’t deny that he was making good progress by the time they called an end to the session; he’d managed to stay on his feet and block the last six of Lorn’s attacks.

“Good work boys,” Master Grendel motioned for them to retrieve their things from the cubby. “Same time tomorrow.”

And with that he walked off, leaving Hayden and Lorn to their own devices. Both boys stumped off wearily back towards the house, sweating and exhausted. Neither of them felt the need to speak to the other, and they parted ways as soon as they entered the house, Hayden in search of a shower and Lorn to the kitchen.

When Hayden was finished cleaning up he tracked down Bonk and they went in search of a snack. He almost changed his mind about eating when he walked into the kitchen and saw Mrs. Trout reviewing the inventory with one of the cooks. She caught sight of him before he could retreat, and Hayden had no choice but to step inside and greet her.

“Hello, I was just wondering if I could get something to eat.” He looked between her and the cook.

“I’ll make you a sandwich,” the latter set down her ledger and moved about the room gathering ingredients.

“I can make it if you’re busy; I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said awkwardly, and Mrs. Trout pursed her lips at him in mild annoyance for offering to do servants’ work.

“It’s no trouble at all,” the cook continued working without looking up, and Hayden sighed and left her to it. With his sandwich in hand, Hayden pulled off a piece of ham for Bonk and slipped out of the kitchen, intending to eat in his room where he didn’t have to worry about dealing with others when he was mentally and physically exhausted.

Unfortunately, Magdalene Trout followed him out of the room and began assigning him more work.

“Edgar tells me that he’s left your next reading assignment in your room. Be sure to complete it tonight and take notes on what it means to you before your next meeting in the morning. He said you made fair progress today, but you’re going to need to really buckle down if you are serious about learning all of the necessary material in time.”

Hayden barely resisted the urge to tell her to shut up and leave him alone. His brain ached from studying ridiculously difficult concepts all day, and his entire body hurt from spending the last hour getting beaten by Lorn. All he wanted to do was rest.

What he said instead was, “Alright, I’ll do that.”

She glanced at him like she had a fair idea of what he was really thinking, but apparently as long as he minded his manners she didn’t feel the need to call him out for his thoughts.

“Did you enjoy your training session with Grendel?” she changed the subject abruptly, perhaps deciding to go easy on him at last.

“Yes, though I think I’ll enjoy it more when I get better at not getting beaten,” he admitted dryly. “Why are you having me trained up in combat, anyway? It’s not like that has anything to do with fulfilling your obligation to help me get my stuff back.”

Mrs. Trout raised an eyebrow at the question and said, “Oliver told me you could use the help. He said you were good with prisms, but otherwise dreadful at defending yourself.”

Hayden was surprised that Oliver had noticed his fighting habits, or cared enough to mention it to his mother, though he supposed it was probably pretty obvious when they were fighting in the Forest of Illusions earlier in the year and Hayden performed terribly at the hand-to-hand combat portion.

“Still, what does it matter to you if I’m a bad fighter?” he pressed, suddenly interested in the answer.