Cave of Nightmares Page 19

  “He seemed determined to find a way…”

  “The best he can do is remove her from Mizzenwald entirely, which I doubt he’ll do, as the entrance exams cost a small fortune to take and he would be forced to send her to a less-affluent school after shelling out all that money to get her in here.”

  Hayden rested his chin on his knees.

  “He said that my father did something to Tess’s mom…but I don’t know what.”

  Asher frowned. “Lisa Wesley died fighting Aleric, or more likely, his minions. I’m not certain that she ever met your father in person, but certainly she is dead because of him.” He didn’t look happy about it. “I’m sorry to say that there are many people at this school and in the Nine Lands who have similar tales of loss.”

  “Great, so I can’t escape him no matter where I go,” Hayden grumbled, trying to conceive of a place where no one knew his name or his father’s and he could start his life over.

  “No, you probably can’t,” Asher sighed. “About the only solace I can offer is that the longer you’re here and the more people see that you are not trying to follow in his footsteps, the more you will distance yourself from him in the minds of others. Time is a great healer.”

  Hayden tried to take comfort from that, but it was hard to feel better when it would take such a long time for any relief to come, if it was coming at all.

  “I didn’t think about it too much when I was young…not having a father, that is.” He had no idea why he was telling the Prism Master this, but the words seemed to come forth against his bidding. “Sometimes at night I would lie awake and wonder what it would be like to have him in my life, but my mom worked hard to try and fill the gap while she was alive, and she never talked about him so I learned not to ask.”

  He wasn’t looking at Asher; he couldn’t look at him right now or else he might lose the nerve to continue sharing these private thoughts of his.

  If it wasn’t family day I wouldn’t be so lonely, and I wouldn’t be bothering Master Asher with this right now.

  “But being here, seeing all of these fathers with their sons today…seeing Torin with you…” he paused to make sure that he had control of his emotions. “I haven’t been able to do anything but feel sorry for myself and wonder what could have been. I don’t even know what fathers and sons talk about, but I wish I did.”

  He finally met Asher’s gaze. The Prism Master was looking at him with a mixture of pity and something else he couldn’t quite identify but made his heart hurt.

  “Why did Torin go inside?” Hayden changed the subject abruptly, not wanting to depress himself further.

  “No idea,” Asher answered immediately, though Hayden suspected he wasn’t being entirely truthful. “I believe you have your next arena challenge in a couple of days?”

  The segue threw Hayden for a loop, but he recovered quickly.

  “Oh, yes, that’s right.”

  “I wanted to have a talk with you about prisms before you went in, given the results of your expedition in the lake.”

  Hayden glanced over at him, wondering if he was about to be reprimanded.

  “Oh?”

  “You seem to have a lot of natural power, despite your worryingly-large Focus-correctors—which I notice you took care to hide today, along with your prisms. You may have more latent power than even your father possessed at your age.”

  Hayden listened anxiously, wondering where this was going.

  “It makes some of the Masters—understandably—nervous. Have you wondered yet why I haven’t just bumped you into my sixth-year class and shown you every wonder of the prism discovered by mankind? Why I make you study low-level theory that you could likely grasp without cracking the cover of your textbook?”

  “I…I had wondered…but I didn’t think it polite to ask…”

  Asher smirked. “Magically-speaking, you are ready for almost anything I could throw at you. I could probably hand you my mastery-level diamond or crystal prisms and you would figure out how to wield them within the span of an hour. Why then do I make you wait?”

  Hayden shook his head, not knowing the answer.

  “Because while you are magically-powerful enough, your mind is not developed sufficiently to withstand the repercussions of such power. Would you ever hand a small child an explosive, even if they knew how to light it and throw it?”

  “Of course not, because they aren’t experienced enough to fully understand what they’re doing and—oh…” Hayden trailed off, grasping the point at last.

  “Exactly. Your mind needs time and experience to catch up to your latent ability. You are studying theory because you need to understand it perfectly before you begin practicing some of the more difficult and dangerous arrays. You are fortunate that your mind locked onto something relatively benign—like Air—when you compounded your prisms in the lake. Even low-level prisms, when compounded, can yield terrible power, which I would have warned you against if I imagined you ever being capable of doing that at your age.”

  “I didn’t understand most of what I saw in the prisms…I just had a lot of feelings about the patterns, like they were familiar but I didn’t know their names. I don’t know why I could see the Air alignment so clearly; maybe because I was suffocating.”

  “In fact, Air is a simple command, and you would have seen it in your amber prism alone. When you look through two prisms you see both of their normal arrays, plus any combinations they form together. If you had just cast Air through your amber prism it would have worked as designed; your compounding merely amplified your natural power—hugely. But as I said, you were lucky. You could have just as easily picked the alignment for Vacuum and imploded from the effects.”

  Hayden shuddered in horror at the thought.

  “This is why I’m telling you that you are not permitted to compound your prisms unless you are in danger of imminent death, and I don’t mean in the arena. You may use any array that comes to mind from either your amber or clear prism, but that is all.” He gave Hayden a sympathetic look. “I know it’s frustrating, but you know better than anyone that people are waiting for a reason to hate you; Sark and Mr. Wesley should be enough to convince you of that. You must be very careful not to give them a reason to fear you, because fear is the driver of many extreme, irrational consequences.”

  Hayden nodded in understanding.

  “Master Sark doesn’t seem to like you much either….Does he hate prism users for some reason?”

  Asher gave him an almost ironic smirk.

  “Not specifically. Sark has his own reasons for hating me, and I’m not terribly fond of him either. Don’t let it get you down; from what I hear, you’re the worst student he’s ever attempted to teach, and he’ll surely be dropping you at the end of the year, so you won’t have to see him much after that.”

  Hayden felt his ears burn.

  “I don’t know why I’m so bad at Powders…I just can’t seem to get the hang of it.”

  Asher chuckled. “We’re all bad at something.”

  “What are you bad at?” Hayden asked curiously.

  “Cooking,” the Prism Master answered with a grin, glancing back at the log cabin that Torin was still inside. “Well, I should go in and make sure the old man hasn’t let the animals eat him….Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  Hayden got to his feet, brushing the damp grass from the seat of his pants, and the Prism Master did the same. He had taken four steps back towards the castle when Asher called out to him.

  “Hayden?”

  He stopped and turned around.

  “Natural prisms are hard to come by, so I offer you these parting words, from one outcast to another,” the Prism Master looked unusually serious. “No matter what sort of danger or trouble you may find yourself in, I will be there to help you when you need it, both at Mizzenwald and outside of it. Make sure you remember that.”

  And with that he disappeared into the log cabin to find his father.

  Hayden felt strangely co
mforted by the vote of support, because having the Prism Master of Mizzenwald as an ally was no small feat, and he recounted the conversation to Zane later that night to get his opinion on it, including the unpleasant encounter with Tess’s dad beforehand.

  His roommate grimaced in sympathy.

  “That sounds horrible. I didn’t know that Tess lost her mother, much less during the fight against the Dark Prism. But she can’t hold it against you or else she would have said something about it before now.”

  “You think so?” Hayden asked uncertainly, wanting to believe him.

  “Sure, I mean, she knows you’re not the Dark Prism,” he shrugged. “Her dad was just being overbearing and protective because that’s what dads do for their kids.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Hayden grumbled, and Zane raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  “Well, you should; Asher has practically adopted you.”

  It was Hayden’s turn to look surprised.

  “What do you mean?”

  His roommate looked amused by his confusion. “You really don’t think that he sits down and has heart-to-hearts with all his other students, do you? Shall we go find Tucker and ask if the Prism Master has offered to bail him out of trouble and smite his enemies for him?”

  Hayden frowned thoughtfully and Zane chuckled.

  “You really are that dumb, aren’t you?” He grinned. “Why do you think Torin left you two alone, if not for a father-son chat?” The thought startled Hayden as he considered the possibility. “He’s a brilliant prism with no children, you’re a brilliant prism with no father…makes sense that he’s watching out for you.”

  Hayden lay awake in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling and considering Zane’s words to him. If he was right about Asher favoring him—and he had rarely known Zane to be wrong—then maybe family day wouldn’t be so awful to endure next month.

  The tightness in his chest relaxed marginally, and he rolled over and went to sleep.

  11

  The Evacuation of Mizzenwald

  Hayden was careful to heed Master Asher’s words during the next team challenge and only used his basic prism functions. Since they had a better idea of what they were facing this time around, all four of them were much calmer and managed to finish during the allotted time frame without too much difficulty, earning themselves another seven points (Zane sustained a bad burn and Tess panicked and covered it in searing solution instead of soothing salve, nearly killing him).

  Hayden paid particular attention during Healing lessons with Mistress Razelle, now that he knew what a simple mistake could cost him. She was a patient, kind woman in her early forties with sheets of golden hair that touched her waistline and crinkles at the edges of her eyes when she smiled. She was also the only teacher he had that acted how he expected teachers to act. She was never sarcastic, always professional and patient and never criticized his work, simply pointing out what was incorrect and needed to be improved upon. Healing quickly became his most relaxing class, if not his favorite.

  During Hayden’s third month at Mizzenwald, Mistress Razelle smiled at him when he showed her his attempt at producing a level-two wrap, infused with an elixir of numbing.

  “That is very fine work, Hayden.” She unwound the roll and gave it a gentle sniff, examining the entire length of it. “Your infusion was very consistent from one end to the other, and you weren’t too heavy-handed with it this time.”

  He beamed hopefully, because he had spent an hour and a half working on it that weekend and was hoping for a top score.

  “I give this a perfect ten,” she handed it back to him.

  “Really? A ten?” He grinned in disbelief. He had managed fairly good grades in her class since he started at Mizzenwald, usually in the seven-to-nine range, but this was the first time he’d ever been awarded a perfect score in her class.

  “Oh yes, this is excellent work for your first year.” She gave him a scrutinizing stare before speaking again. “In fact, I would be comfortable recommending you for my second-level class, given your progress thus far.”

  Hayden felt his mouth drop open and hastened to shut it.

  “R-really? You think I’m good enough for level-two?”

  “I do. You’ll have to work hard to catch up on some of the basics we’ve already covered this year, but I think you will do well there once you get settled in.”

  It would be the first class he actually shared with Zane and Tess. He would finally feel like he earned his second-year status.

  “Thank you, Mistress. I’ll do my best to catch up,” he promised sincerely, and she smiled at him again.

  “I’ll have your name cleared for acquiring second-level ingredients and texts during lunch. You’ll want to pick up your new book before tomorrow.”

  “What time is class tomorrow?” A new thought hit Hayden then, and he hoped desperately that his new Healing class wouldn’t conflict with any of his existing lessons.

  “I have several second-level classes: one immediately following lunch, one at the end of the day, and one after dinner for those with scheduling conflicts, though it’s taught by one of my mastery-level students.”

  Hayden frowned. “I’d have to do the one after dinner. I’ve got Powders after lunch—though I wish I didn’t—and Prisms at the end of the day.”

  Looks like I won’t be in Zane’s class after all.

  It was disappointing, but not terribly. He was still buoyed by the fact that a teacher took enough notice of his work that she was recommending him for a harder class.

  “Then I’ll tell Raina to expect you after dinner tomorrow,” she dismissed him, and Hayden grabbed his book bag and hurried off to lunch to share his good news.

  Zane and Conner were sitting in their usual spots with Mira and Tamon, and Hayden sat down across from his roommates and shared his achievement, thankful that Tamon hadn’t brought his snake to lunch with them today because he was a little afraid of being eaten when he sat near its master.

  “Congratulations!” Zane cheered him. “Shame that you’re in the night class though: it’d be cool if we were ever actually in a lesson together.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll still be with me and Tamon,” Mira assured him. “We have to take the night class too because of our schedules.” That did make Hayden feel better.

  “I’m surprised Asher hasn’t bumped you up to a higher Prisms class yet,” Conner said in a low voice, glancing behind him to make sure that the Prisms Master wasn’t anywhere nearby. “Everyone says you’re top of the class; you’d think he’d show some confidence in you by now.”

  Hayden, who had already been told exactly why he wasn’t in a higher-level class yet, simply shrugged.

  “I don’t mind. There are so many things to learn, even in the level-two class, that I don’t want to skip ahead and miss any of the basics.”

  The others looked impressed with his pragmatic take on things.

  “Well, you’ll have a free period now during third hour, so that should be handy,” Zane pointed out. “You’ll be able to knock out most of your homework before the day is even over.”

  Hayden certainly hoped so, since he was now committed to another lesson after dinner every night.

  Tamon soon excused himself, saying he wanted to check on his boa constrictor before fourth period, and the rest of them shared stories of their most recent challenge arenas until lunch was over. Hayden laughed hysterically when Conner informed them that Lorn Trout had lost his team three points for hiding behind Valeria like she was a human shield when they were surprised by a wild boar.

  Hayden was in such a good mood that he wasn’t even dreading Powders that day, though if he had known what to expect he would have skipped class entirely.

  They were attempting a difficult grind today, a blend of white-3, green-7, and yellow-2 that was commonly used as a base in elixirs. Hayden donned his dust mask before entering the room, as always, and copied down notes as Master Sark explained the blending and grinding instruct
ions to them.

  He tried to do as instructed, measuring a quarter cup of white-3 and emptying it into his glass mortar, grinding it with the pestle until he thought it could be sifted through five-micrometer mesh. He added the green-7 and mixed the two colors thoroughly with a stirring rod, then resumed grinding the compound. He had to stand up for leverage, since the green-7 made the mixture a little gummy and very difficult to break apart, and his shoulder hurt by the time he added the yellow-2.

  Master Sark, who had been walking around the room monitoring their efforts, was approaching Hayden’s workstation with an unpleasant look on his face. That was typical, since he usually avoided Hayden at all costs and was never even remotely satisfied with the results of his efforts during class.

  Today was no different.

  “What in the world do you call that tragedy in your mixing bowl?”

  Hayden frowned down at the lumpy yellow-green mess inside his mortar, glancing over at his neighbor who had somehow produced a smooth, even blend that was a pleasant spring-grass color. Hayden’s was beginning to congeal even as he sat there.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I’m trying my best; I don’t know why it isn’t working,” he mumbled through his breath mask, looking at anything but Master Sark.

  “Well your best effort is not nearly sufficient to pass this class,” Sark informed him, as usual, and his nearby classmates laughed, as usual.

  “I’m beginning to think that nothing can penetrate that thick skull of yours,” the Master continued, shaking his head in frustration. “I would say you’re simply not trying, but I have seen students not try and still obtain better results than you.”

  Hayden felt his face burning and glanced briefly at Master Sark, hating everything about him, from his mean eyes to the way the light glinted off of his stupid bald head. He balled his hands into fists but kept them firmly at his sides, not trusting himself to speak.

  “Oh, you think you’re frustrated, Frost?” Sark read his anger with a scowl. “I have been the Regional Champion of Powders for four years running: I have seventeen published papers on breakthrough discoveries in the research of blending, grinding, compounding, and admixtures; I have eight mastery-level students apprenticed to me and we are on the verge of yet another breakthrough discovery that could change the world of powders as we know it.”