Frost Prisms (The Broken Prism Book 5) Read online

  By the third day he felt himself falling into a routine. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, but it gave him an anchor to sanity, which was something. He could still feel the discomfort that the room caused him, but found that he had grown accustomed to it and was able to ignore it at will. As the sun was setting that evening, he had abandoned hope of anything useful happening that day. He had already made a mental tick-mark to tally his third complete day of imprisonment when he heard the sound of the lift settling on the top floor.

  Confused and a little tired, Hayden sat up straight and tried to recall whether he had received all three meals today. He thought he had, but maybe he was thinking of yesterday’s dinner? It was hard to tell when all his dinners were the same…

  The door to his cell opened abruptly, and two men stood framed in the doorway. The one on the left was one of Hayden’s mute guards, who brought him food and took away his waste. The other was Master Asher, wearing his metallic red Mastery robes from Mizzenwald.

  “You’ve got five minutes,” the guard informed the Prism Master, who nodded and stepped across the threshold into the room, allowing the door to shut behind him.

  Hayden surged to his feet unsteadily and said, “About time! I thought you all were never going to figure out where Calahan put me!”

  Master Asher closed his eyes briefly and shuddered as the effect of the room washed over him. It was then that Hayden realized that his mentor wasn’t wearing his circlet or any weapons on his belt. It might have been the first time he had ever seen the man completely unarmed.

  “This place is wretched,” he opened his eyes and made a disgusted face. “Also, you look horrible.”

  Hayden scowled and said, “Yeah, well if you’d been locked up here for three days without any decent food or a shower, you wouldn’t look so perky either.”

  Asher raised an eyebrow and said, “They haven’t let you bathe?” When Hayden shook his head he added, “I’ll see to that. Even convicted criminals have basic human rights—and you are not yet convicted of anything.”

  “Oh good,” Hayden said sarcastically. “I was hoping I hadn’t missed my trial.”

  “No, it’s scheduled to start in another week or so,” Asher answered his sarcasm without amusement. “The Council is still finalizing its evidence against you and collecting witness testimony.”

  Hayden frowned at that and paced the small room.

  “I don’t suppose you all have caught up to Sark and kicked him in the teeth for turning traitor on me, have you?”

  There was an odd inflection in his voice when Asher said, “Why would we attack our colleague for doing his duty to the Council of Mages and apprehending a Wanted man?”

  “WHAT?” Hayden turned around angrily, unable to believe his ears.

  “You were a fugitive of the law, and Kirius brought you in to face justice. What part of that would we punish him for?” Asher reiterated flatly, though he tapped his ear and pointed to the walls as he spoke, and Hayden suddenly understood.

  The walls have ears. We’re being monitored.

  Asher still had to maintain his cover, or else he would be arrested too. Even though he understood it, it aggravated Hayden to no end that they couldn’t even have a candid conversation right now. He had really been looking forward to someone being able to tell him what in the world was going on.

  “If you say so,” he answered neutrally. “Anyway, why are you wearing your Mastery robes? I thought you all were postponing the next school year indefinitely until my father is neutralized.”

  “The Council and the High Mayor’s office—in a rare joint venture—made an executive override and determined that we should carry on with business as usual.”

  Surprised, Hayden asked, “Why would they do that with the Dark Prism still on the loose? Aren’t they afraid that he’s going to blow up the school with most of Junir’s magically-inclined children conveniently penned up inside or something?”

  Asher scowled and said, “The High Mayor wants his taxes, and Mizzenwald is the single largest source of revenue for him in that regard. The Council wants us to continue training up young mages in the major and minor arcana while your father is still being peaceable, with the thought that it might take every mage we can get to fight him properly if he becomes aggressive once more. The risk of putting most of our magical future in one well-known place has been pointed out and ignored—more than once.”

  Hayden was trying to think of something he could safely ask without giving away the fact that he had been in touch with the Prism Master since he left school.

  “Is there any news on what my father has been up to since he came through the schism?” He already knew the answer, but since he wasn’t supposed to have any inside information at this point, he couldn’t ask any of his follow-up questions until they brought this out in the open.

  “Actually, there have been reports of him helping injured mages with warped Foci. He has been reversing the damage that was done to them and enabling them to use magic again.”

  “Why would he do that?” Hayden asked, in case Asher had come up with some new theories since they last spoke about it.

  The Prism Master shrugged and said, “No idea. I’ve been trying to explain to the Council that I don’t think my old friend is up to anything good, no matter how pure his motives may seem right now, but they have been rather divided over the issue.”

  The guard opened the door behind Asher and said, “Your time is up, sir. Please return to the lobby and your weapons will be returned to you.”

  Master Asher sighed and gave Hayden one last cursory glance, his expression worried. Hayden was determined to look tough and unaffected, but inside he was screaming, Help! Don’t leave me here for another week in this horrible place! Take me with you— we can fight off the guards together and escape!

  “I’ll see you when the trial begins,” Asher said as he stepped back over the threshold and seemed to perk up immediately as the unpleasant magical effect of the room left him. “All of the schools will have representatives in the audience at a trial this important—at least one from each of the Great Nine.”

  “Thanks,” Hayden fought against the wave of emotions that were welling up inside of him: the terror at being left alone here for another week, of losing the trial and being told he’d have to spend the rest of his life here, of never seeing his friends again. “I’ll see you in a week then.”

  Asher nodded and then the door was closed between them. Once more, Hayden found himself utterly alone. The brief contact with another human being—the first time he had really used his voice in three days—was enough to sharpen the discomfort the room forced upon him so that he felt it more acutely. Now that Hayden knew he was being spied on, he was determined not to cry, beg, or betray any other sign of his emotions. Spiting Cal was all he had left at this point, the only control that was still left to him.

  He curled up on the hard ground and closed his eyes, fidgeting with his Focus-correctors and waiting to fall asleep.

  Things improved slightly the next day, courtesy of Master Asher’s visit. Hayden had no idea what strings the man had pulled on his behalf, or if he had simply threatened to sue Calahan for some sort of human rights violation, but Hayden was allowed out of his cell long enough to bathe for the first time since his arrival. He was also given half an hour a day—heavily guarded—to exercise on a lower floor, and there was even a pillow waiting for him in his room when he returned to it.

  In some ways leaving the room made things worse, because the horrible feeling of wrongness hit him even harder after a period of time without it. Still, he came to enjoy his brief moments of freedom from the discomfort, especially as it gave him a chance to see other human beings and to remember that he wasn’t the only person left in the world, though no one else was allowed to speak to him. Even the pillow felt like a luxury, though his body still ached from sleeping on the hard crystalline floor.

  Calahan must not think there’s any danger of m
e suffocating myself before the trial, Hayden thought ruefully.

  He spent the next several days composing a mental list of questions to ask the next person who visited him, on the off chance one of his other allies would stop by before the trial. First on his mind was Bonk, because the dragonling had not reacted well to Hayden’s unexplained absences in the past, and he could imagine his familiar laying siege to the Crystal Tower in a furious attempt to get to him. Sometimes, in his darkest moments, he cheerfully imagined Bonk tearing this entire crystalline building to the ground; he didn’t even care whether he was inside it when that happened.

  But days went by without any other visitors, neither Bonk nor anyone else, and despite Hayden’s constant determination not to betray any sign of weakness that Calahan might hear about, he couldn’t help but feel forgotten and betrayed. All of these important mages had spent months—years, really—telling him that he was uniquely gifted, special, important to the world at large, that he was vital in the plans to bring down the Dark Prism once and for all. And now that he had been captured? ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ seemed to be the motto now.

  Nearly two weeks had elapsed since Hayden began his imprisonment: two impossibly long, thoroughly depressing weeks. He was awoken early that morning by the sound of the cell door swinging open, as the sun was just beginning to herald the coming of dawn. A grim-faced guard was on the other side.

  “You’re to shower, dress, and eat breakfast before your trial begins,” he said by way of greeting.

  Hayden felt his heart sink into his stomach and suddenly he didn’t feel terribly hungry or anxious to leave his confinement. He knew that his trial was supposed to start any day now, but after having weeks to dream up all of the horrible outcomes that were possible, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to face the real thing. The only bright side was that he hadn’t known last night, so he was able to sleep fairly well.

  “Okay, how long do I have to get ready?” Hayden asked as he stood up and stretched his legs, wincing when his stiff muscles strained in protest. No matter how many days he slept on the hard crystalline floor, it seemed that his body never really got used to it.

  “About forty-five minutes,” the guard informed him, and Hayden picked up his pace, ignoring his aching muscles.

  The two of them stepped into the lift, and Hayden watched the man activate the up-and-down control with his wand. Hayden tried to count the number of floors they passed to see how far down they were going, but it was impossible to keep track given how fast they were moving. The only thing he was certain of was that he hadn’t been this far down in the building since the night he came in. Was it his imagination, or did the air smell fresher down here?

  The floor they stopped on must have been somewhere near the base of the Crystal Tower, because the space was much wider than the upper levels. The walls no longer appeared transparent, which was a blessed relief after seeing nothing but glare from the sun all of this time. Hayden had long since concluded that his prison cell had been designed with the intention of keeping its occupants in the maximum level of discomfort imaginable without physically torturing them.

  He was led down a corridor that curved in a wide circle, stopping about halfway around the arc. The guard directed him into one of the interior rooms, assuming a static position outside the door: back straight, legs shoulder-width apart, and hands folded together in front of him. Hayden wondered how much the man got paid to stand around looking decorative all day.

  He entered the bathroom—a much nicer one than the one on the nineteenth level—and couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or bad thing that they were treating him well on the morning of his hearing. Either it meant that they were going to find him innocent, and had decided he was entitled to a little common courtesy, or it meant that his fate was so horrible that they didn’t mind showing him a little kindness before he met his doom.

  The floor was tiled in smooth, white granite with black veins shooting through it in a series of concentric circles.

  No question what the Council’s favorite shape is, Hayden thought in mild amusement, eliciting a private smile. It was nice to know that he was still capable of dry humor these days, even if only with himself.

  The walls were composed of much smaller tiles, and these were colored to depict a fantastical explosion of magic that wrapped around the room like a mural. A wand was shown disgorging a trail of red and blue smoke, a colored phial near the ceiling splashed green liquid towards the floor; they had even taken the time to arrange the tiles so that it showed the splash effect as the elixir hit the ground.

  Hayden approached a shower head near what looked like an explosion of different colored powders, forming a cloud that in real life would almost certainly kill him if he were to encounter it. He pulled lightly on the chords for hot and cold water, adjusting the balance until it was just right and then stripping down to wash. Since he didn’t know when his next decent shower would be, he tried to savor it as much as possible, keeping in mind that he didn’t have much time to dress and eat.

  Another surprise was waiting for him when he was finished showering. Instead of donning the same worn pants and T-shirt that he had been wearing for two straight weeks, he found his formal House robes waiting for him. Again, he couldn’t decide if this was a good or a bad thing, but he did feel better once he had them on. He also hoped the Council burned his worn shirt and pants, because he never wanted to lay eyes on them again.

  After a hurried breakfast of hardboiled eggs and sausage rolls, he was led to one of the exterior rooms on the same floor, where the guard chivvied him inside like an overbearing nanny and then departed.

  He had stepped into a medium-sized room: smaller than the chamber where he had fought for his assets last year in Kargath, but larger than the one they had questioned him in when he was twelve and the Council was deciding whether or not to let him study magic.

  There were two long tables angled towards each other in an inverted ‘V’ in the center of the room. All of the seats at the right-hand table were occupied by the ten members of the Council of Mages, wearing their formal gold-and-black robes, Calahan at the center. The other table was completely unoccupied at present, which seemed strange and made the room look unbalanced, but Hayden assumed it might be for witnesses or other people who could be called to testify later on.

  Low benches lined the walls. There was probably only enough room for forty people to sit down, assuming they squeezed together fairly tightly—though it wasn’t currently filled to capacity. A large black-and-gold banner hung from the ceiling with the symbols for the ten major and minor arcana on it, artistically intertwined around the Council’s insignia. Other than that, the room was completely unadorned.

  All eyes turned to Hayden as he looked to the Council members for directions on where to go. Calahan pointed wordlessly to a seat in the center of the open space between the V-shaped table configuration, and Hayden sat down, looking out into the audience to see who he recognized.

  It was either a weekend or else classes had been cancelled, because all ten Masters from Mizzenwald were in attendance, even Sark. The Master of Powders met his gaze neutrally before Hayden glanced at the others. Mistress Razelle looked like she wanted to whack the Council members over the head and whisk him off to the infirmary for a healing elixir, but most of the others simply looked neutral or slightly grim.

  Well, that’s encouraging…

  Three of the Masters from Valhalla were there, including Mandra; four from Isenfall, though Kiresa was the only one Hayden remembered; two from Creston in Hazenvale; one from Branx, in Wynir. The other Masters were obviously from the western schools, because he had never seen their robes before and didn’t recognize a one of them. More to give himself something to do than because he was actually interested, he tried to guess at who was who while the Council members finished preparing their notes.

  Those three in the black robes must be from Vyra in Ryvale, because their colors are black and silver. The one in
brown is probably from Sud-Benir, in Sudir; that robe looks like it was designed with a desert climate in mind.

  He had no idea which of the remaining duos was from Irea in Osglen and which was from Redkamp in Norvale, knowing virtually nothing about either place, but it didn’t matter much because by the time he started thinking about it the Council was ready to proceed.

  “This is the first day of the trial Hayden Frost, who presently stands accused of returning his father, Aleric Frost—also known as the Dark Prism—back into power in the Nine Lands. He also stands accused of evading the law when he was called upon to report to the Crystal Tower to be tried for this violation,” Calahan spoke loudly and clearly, addressing the room at large. A record-keeper was hurriedly taking notes, sitting on one of the benches beside the delegates from Isenfall.

  Hayden let his eyes roam over the Council members, some of whom blinked and looked away from his gaze, while others met his eyes unflinchingly. Magdalene Trout was one of the latter, though, interestingly, Laris was one of those who looked away.

  “During this preliminary hearing, the charges against Hayden Frost will be finalized before proceeding to the full trial tomorrow.” Calahan turned to him now and said, “For the record, please state your name and major area of discipline for this assembly.”

  “Hayden Frost, prism-user,” he answered calmly, determined not to look rattled.

  “And do you understand the purpose of today’s gathering?”

  “Not entirely,” he admitted. “You said you’re finalizing charges…?”

  Calahan pursed his lips as though annoyed that he had to explain things, which gave Hayden a fleeting moment of satisfaction.

  “That is correct. The formal trial will begin tomorrow, or later in the day today if things progress rapidly. This morning we will determine, based on our questions and your answers, the severity of the charges against you and what penalties may be sought in recompense.”