by S T G Hill
It would give her an excuse to go find someplace else to sleep that night.
But the door unlocked, sending a lurch of nervous energy right into the center of her chest.
More, when the door swung open light spilled out into the hallway.
"I was wondering when you were going to show up, ab," Matilda said.
She lay on her bed, ankles crossed, a glossy copy of some magazine open in her hands. She let the magazine fall and looked down her body at Ellie. The way she cocked her head gave her an awful double chin.
"I don't like this anymore than you do," Ellie said.
Matilda sat up, throwing her legs over the side of the bed, "Who said I don't like it? Not everyday the school provides me with a personal punching bag."
She nodded. Ellie followed the gesture, her eyes falling on the duffle bag in the corner. It looked like someone had taken turns kicking and punching it and then sitting on it.
Ellie's stomach boiled.
Those are my things!
"Yeah, I thought you'd like that," Matilda said.
"Why would you do that?" Ellie said, hands clenching into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms.
She really is just like Mr. Fichtner! Which meant Ellie already knew the answer to her question. Matilda had done it because she wanted to, because it gave her pleasure to hurt someone else.
"Oh don't worry," Matilda said, "Maybe I'll get chosen for Darius Belt's Trial. I'll win, of course. Then I'll be training with the greatest sorcerer in the world and you can have this crappy old room all to yourself."
Ellie wished at that moment that Matilda would get chosen, if only to have some of her own sadistic medicine served up to her.
"But until then," Matilda said, "This room is mine. You got that?"
It was then that Ellie noticed the folding cot leaning in the corner. She looked around for a good place to put it, then noticed just how little accommodation Matilda had made for her.
Piles of dirty clothes covered a good portion of the floor. Stacks of magazines and take-out boxes from the dining hall took up most of the rest.
More, Matilda had moved her furniture—her desk, her bed, her dresser—to take up as much floor space as possible.
And she'd done it recently, judging by the drag marks through the dust on the floor.
"I thought I'd redecorate a bit before you got here. You like?" Matilda said.
Ellie felt angry enough then to call upon her innate power. She could show Matilda exactly how much she liked this situation.
But that would cause more trouble than it was worth. And a sudden wave of fatigue settled into Ellie's bones. The long day had finally caught up with her; she just wanted to sleep.
She set up her cot against one of the walls. Mostly against, at least: it needed to angle out a little to fit into the too small gap between the dresser and the wall.
Not so unlike the tiny cot Mr. Fichtner had set up for her in his living room.
She tried not to dwell on that as she pulled her duffle bag over to find her pyjamas. She changed into them beneath the cover.
"Oh, and ab?" Matilda said, "Apparently I snore pretty loud. That's not going to bother you, right?"
Ellie turned onto her side so that she faced the wall. The light in the room flicked off and the snoring started almost right away.
It was a long night.
Ellie wished that Belt's Trial would start even sooner, if only to get her out of that room that much faster.
Chapter 21
Darius Belt came back to the school the next day. He called everyone back to the amphitheater.
Ellie and Sybil took up seats near the back. Thorn had recovered enough to be here, too. He sat with his shoulders hunched in the front row. Ellie kept glancing at him, wanting him to look back at them.
But if he felt her stares, he didn’t respond.
For just a moment, Ellie actually wondered if she preferred dealing with Belt over spending another night in the same room as Matilda. Who, after she’d gone to sleep, snored until Ellie charmed the air around her own head so that no sound could get through.
It was only when she woke up 20 minutes late for class, alarm blaring silently from the dresser, that she realized she should have just placed a spell of silence over Matilda’s stupid face.
Belt and Caspian stood on the central stage, the faculty members behind them in a row with Cassiodorian in the center of the group. Master Shaffir and Arabella stood on either side of him, both watching for any signs of another collapse.
The student body roiled with anticipation and suspense.
“He’s going to announce the choices!” someone a row ahead said, “I know it!”
“Did you put your name in?” the guy beside him asked.
“No. No one put their name in,” the first replied.
“Your attention, please,” Belt said, his voice booming out over the crowd. Everyone went quiet and still. Though the tension in the air felt thick enough to cut.
Belt raised one hand with a flourish, a large white envelope appearing in his grip. “I have here the names of the six chosen contestants. They have been selected at random from the enrolled students, to ensure a fair and unbiased process.”
"Sure..." Ellie muttered.
Belt raised one hand in a commanding gesture. From the floor of the stage, a broad marble bowl rose.
“Come to the stage as your name is called,” Belt said.
Then he waved his hand over the bowl, like a witch stirring some foetid brew. Folded cards appeared in the bowl, swirling around each other.
The first card lifted into the air.
“Casey Mitchell,” Belt said.
“Look!” someone said.
Everyone turned, including Ellie.
She knew Casey. They took a couple of classes together. He was one of the youngest students on the campus.
Arabella shook her head and started forward, but Cassiodorian held out an arm and stopped her with a shake of his head.
And at that moment, some spell cast by Belt outlined Casey like he was some sort of cartoon character.
The people sat nearest to him all scooted away down the bench, as though whatever he had might be catching.
He stood and went down to the stage, ending up beside Belt, who put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Something about that concession from Cassiodorian hit Ellie right in the stomach. She could tell that Cassiodorian also didn’t agree with this, but that he didn’t do anything to try and put a stop to it.
Thorn was right; they couldn’t go to the Magister for help on this. They’d just be dragging him into their fight.
Another card rose out of the bowl. “Matilda Thurgood.”
Ellie’s stomach lurched. Last night with Matilda hadn’t been the most fun experience of her life.
That same shining outline shifted to Matilda, who sat far down at the other end of the amphitheater.
She joined Casey on the stage.
“Miles Dawson,” Belt called, then, “Jackie Willis.”
Jackie, a pretty blonde made even lovelier when limned with that weird spell light, was only halfway to the stage when the next card rose out of the bowl.
Ellie’s throat clenched up. She knew that she was going to be one of the six. It went without question.
Still, the suspense fried her nerves.
It was like watching a movie you’d seen before and already knew what was going to happen but you still ended up jumping when the monster poked its ugly head out from under the bed anyway.
“Eleonora Ashwood,” Darius Belt said.
His eyes picked her out of the crowd even before that highlighting outline stole around her skin.
As soon as he spoke her name the whispers and murmurs started.
“But she’s an ab…”
“Sucks for her…”
Everyone scooted away from her when she stood up. Everyone but Sybil. Her heart did its best to climb up her throat.
&n
bsp; Behind Belt, Caspian, and the “winners,” Arabella shook her head and said something sharp to Cassiodorian, who responded with a shake of his head in return.
Ellie made her way down the steps and towards the stage, where she joined the others.
Only one more name, she thought, standing beside Jackie at the end of the line, trying not to look at Belt out of the corner of her eye.
The sixth and final card began to rise from the marble bowl.
“And me!” Thorn said, rising from his seat.
“That’s not how it works,” Caspian said, starting forward.
Belt held him back with a hand on his shoulder, and Caspian looked back at his master, disappointed.
“Yours isn’t the name on this ticket,” Belt said, for once cancelling the spell that sent his voice out across the amphitheater.
“I’m volunteering,” Thorn said.
In the sunlight, he still looked weak. His skin had taken a thin and sickly hue, and just the effort of standing up left him taking deep breaths that made his shoulders rise and fall sharply.
Belt smiled a little smile, as though both amused and somehow pleased that Thorn would try this. It left Ellie even more curious about just what had happened between the two of them.
“Admirable, but ultimately inadmissible,” Belt said, “Now, sit down before you fall down. I insist.”
Thorn didn’t. No, instead he climbed the stage, his eyes sunken but defiant. Thorn was almost as tall as Belt, Ellie noticed.
Ellie noticed Sybil trying to get her attention, waving discreetly from the stands. Ellie caught her eyes and frowned a question up at her.
Sybil replied with a thumbs-up, as though that meant anything.
Sybil had spent pretty much the entire night at the library, Ellie remembered. What had she found out about the Trial of Minos?
What had she told Thorn?
“I looked into this game you’re playing,” Thorn said.
“I’m certain you did,” Belt replied.
“There’s a passage in Apollonarian’s Treatise on Elemental Mastery that talks about the Trial. It says that while the selection of Chosen from any school should be random, that those who ‘deem themselves worthy of judgment may take a place among their peers,’ which is a direct quote. Translated from Koine Greek, of course.”
Belt’s smile lingered. “So it does. And you deem yourself worthy?”
Thorn’s face became steely, “I do.”
Belt reached out and took hold of Thorn’s arm, “I wish that you would reconsider.” He said it so quietly that Ellie doubted anyone but those standing in line on the stage heard.
“No,” Thorn said, “You’re the one who needs to reconsider.”
Ellie got the impression that Thorn didn’t just mean reconsidering the Trial.
Then Thorn pulled his arm out of Belt’s grip and went to take his place at the end of the line beside Ellie.
“It’s your funeral,” Caspian said through a smile.
Belt allowed the final card to fall back into the marble bowl, which then sank down into the stage, the magic that conjured it dispelled.
“I give you your Chosen,” Belt said, voice booming out.
Chapter 22
Ellie found Thorn after the ceremony and herded him into an empty hall in a nearby building.
“Why did you do that?” she said.
“Because you’re going to win the Trial,” he replied. “It’s all just a show to get you without making everyone else suspicious.”
“I know that,” Ellie said, “But why are you in on it now?”
Thorn glanced down towards the double doors that led out to the courtyard. Students and teachers still streamed out of the amphitheater, going back to their dorms or to class or the cafeteria. No one came into their hallway, however.
“Because even though you’re going to win, that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to make it hard on you. That he isn’t going to try and make sure you are weakened and easy to control. I’m going to make sure that you end up going with him with as much of your strength as possible.”
“Oh,” Ellie said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I know,” Thorn said, unaware of just how much the tone of his voice in those two words annoyed her.
“So what am I supposed to do with all that strength if I do manage to keep it?” Ellie said.
Thorn nodded, “You need to steal something from him. In his study, there’s a big box with this black gem inside of it.”
“What is it?” Ellie said.
Thorn shrugged, “I don’t know exactly. I just know that it’s incredibly powerful. And that Belt needs it for whatever it is he has planned. If you can take that from him and find a way out, then maybe we can put a stop to all of this.”
“I wish that I’d just left the school when you told me to before,” Ellie said, “If I’d gone just a bit quicker, maybe I could have gotten out before the attack…”
Thorn put a hand on her shoulder, “Wishing doesn’t make anything happen. And nothing can change the past, not even the most powerful magic. We need to keep looking forward, not back.”
“Right, so let me see if I have this straight. Win the trial, steal some black gem from the most powerful sorcerer in the world. Got it. Do you think that while I’m at it I can also become Queen of England and win the Powerball?”
Thorn’s lips pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows crept up his forehead, “This isn’t a joke.”
“Who said I’m joking?”
Thorn ignored that one. “That’s why I’m coming along with you.”
That did actually give Ellie some comfort. Though she’d die before she let Thorn know it.
“So when are you going to tell me more about what went on between you and Belt?” Ellie said. “I mean, call me crazy, but it actually looks like he cares about you.”
Thorn looked away, his jaw set hard and his eyes narrow. “Darius Belt doesn’t care about anything except for what he wants.”
“And what’s that? World domination? Lots of money? Successfully predicting who’s going to get evicted next on Big Brother?”
“You need to stop joking about all this, Ellie. It’s way too serious,” Thorn said, still shaking his head, “And Belt doesn’t want or need money.”
“So power, then?”
Thorn shrugged, “Maybe. He never really told me anything except that I didn’t need to know.”
Ellie crossed her arms. “Is that why you left? Because he wouldn’t tell you anything?”
“Don’t you have a class to get to?” Thorn turned away from her,, “Because if you want to get through this thing with as few scratches and dents as you can, you’re going to need to pay attention for once.”
Then he walked away, leaving Ellie watching him.
“Hey! I pay attention in class,” she called after him. Though with everything going on, she didn’t know how anyone could think it was even remotely possible to think about school and homework and tests.
Chapter 23
The Trial was all anyone could talk about on the campus.
Every class, the teacher needed to shush the students. Master Shaffir even went so far as to cast a silencing spell over the room.
It went over everything but his voice.
It was one of the most unnerving experiences of Ellie’s life. She sat at her desk, watching her pen scratch against her notebook, unable to hear the familiar sounds of the paper.
Master Shaffir’s voice seemed to come from inside her head.
“You must hold within your mind the construct you wish to create. You must do more than that. You have to see and feel it in every dimension possible. If it becomes real in your mind, it becomes real in the world,” Master Shaffir said. “Observe”
He held one hand palm up. After a moment, a yellow-orange ball of flame appeared.
“Fire is one of the most difficult things to conjure. It is living, moving, energetic,” he said.
Then he squeeze
d his hand into a fist and the ball of fire disappeared. When he spread his fingers once more, a perfectly rounded ball of ice sprang into being. “Perhaps we can make this more palatable, yes?”
He ran his free hand over the ball of ice, and when his fingers moved out of the way the class saw the ice had been replaced with a glass of water.
Master Shaffir took a sip from this glass and then set it down on his desk.
“Now everyone, place your pencils down. The ability to create something from nothing is one of the most important principles of magic. One of its true powers. Something any scientist from the non-magical world would deem completely impossible.
“The simpler the object or substance, the easier it is to create. I want each of you here and now to create a small block of stone. Hold it in your mind. Built it there. Then make it real.”
Ellie sighed with relief. She liked learning about magic, about the theories and the history. But the practical part was what she felt most comfortable with.
Though without unlocking her true powers even supposedly simple spells like this one proved difficult.
Someone started waving their hand urgently in the air. A younger kid, maybe 10.
Master Shaffir saw. He waved a hand through the air and Ellie felt that blanket of silence lift from the room. “Yes, Mister Downey?”
“What kind of stone, Master?” the boy said.
“Any kind you want. Though be warned, if you pick some complicated marble or granite it will be more difficult. The important thing is to do it. You never know when creating an object will come in handy. Or even save your life.” His eyes swept the room.
A few of the students in the room created stones and rocks with ease, and quickly.
“You may go,” Master Shaffir told them, “Everyone else stays until they’ve conjured some stone.”
One by one, the students left.
Ellie’s frustration grew as the class dwindled. She squeezed her eyes shut, picturing a smooth oval stone, its gray surface polished. She could practically feel the texture of it.
She willed it to be, even going so far as to point both palms towards the top of her desk, where she wanted it to appear.
