“I’m serious. I could have done all this by myself. What did I bring you two for?” I asked.
“We’re the ones who broke in the first door,” said Eighellie.
“Oh, yeah,” Keegan said. “Okay. Try again,” he said to me.
I reached out again, steeling myself for shock, for an alarm, for going against the defensive spell and losing.
Instead I just felt cool metal. My essence rose up again and flowed out more easily than the first time, because the magic now knew what I wanted and it was ready. Reacting to the magic of the Volans dorm was already making my essence spiral out of control.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, called more essence, and shoved.
The magic burned through me. The magic burned into the door. Further and further I pulled the essence. I heard Keegan make some sort of noise behind me. but I didn’t have time to look and see what it meant. I was so focused on breaking the magical protections around the library that nothing else mattered.
And then there was a snapping sound and the door burst open. I staggered back. For a moment the whole door was illuminated, then that too burned away. All that was left was dull metal that looked the way it had when we’d first seen it.
“That was impressive. Almost as impressive as what I did,” said Keegan.
“Can we please hurry this up?” Eighellie demanded.
“Forgive us, oh mistress of impatience. We are not all speedy goddesses such as yourself,” Keegan said.
I pushed the door open and found the library completely quiet and deserted. While I’d been preoccupied with getting the door unlocked, the fire in my hand had gone out. But it didn’t matter, because there was a dim light already shining in the library.
“I guess you brought us to the wood,” said Eighellie.
“I’m sure you never doubted me for a moment,” said Keegan.
Eighellie cleared her throat. “Okay. We split up. The Digger’s real name is English O’Brien. I don’t know what section he’d be in. If somebody comes in here, everybody hide. If one of us gets caught, the others have to run. No heroics,” she said, glaring at me.
“Fine. We run,” I said.
“Let’s go,” said Eighellie.
There was no point in arguing with her. I’d get about as far with Eighellie as I would with Lisabelle.
That thought was almost scarier than breaking into the dorm in the first place.
Chapter Eighteen
After looking around the library I realized that there was a smaller floor upstairs, and headed there. I had a suspicion that the rarer books and less sought-after scripts would be up there, since students didn’t really care about historical artifacts the way historians did.
Keegan went to the right, Eighellie to the left. I heard no sounds as I padded softly up the stairs.
At the top there was only one large table, with shelves circling all the way around the back half of the library. There was even less light on this floor than on the floor below.
I searched for a section where it might have made sense to put the Digger’s writings, based on what Sigil had told me about him. The History of Wings in Modern Times was not one of them. Historical Pixies in the History of Plants was also one I didn’t think would fit.
I heard nothing from downstairs as I searched, but I hoped my friends were making more progress than I was.
After scanning the shelves a little longer, I saw a section that just might do: Paranormal Public Professors’ Unusual Writings and Works. I hurried over. To my surprise, the first name I saw was Jack Korba. I’d had no idea that he had written much, but in fact it appeared that he was prolific. He had an entire shelf to himself.
Now that I thought about it, I did remember him assigning some of his own work in class. There was no time to delve into Korba’s work now, though; we were on a mission, and the longer we spent in the library the more likely we’d be discovered. So I left Korba behind and worked my way down the line. I told myself I should give thanks that Eighellie had remembered to get the Digger’s real last name before we came here. All would have been lost if she hadn’t done that.
Once I had the correct section, finding his last name was a breeze. There was English O’Brien right there.
He too had written a lot. He had nearly half a shelf to himself. I read through the titles looking for anything that might be relevant to the artifacts, but most of them were so archaic that I barely understood what they meant.
Many of the books seemed to be about ancient theories of magical artifacts that had been brought together to enhance power, and instead destroyed each other. There were countless histories of entire villages being wiped out by such foolishness. It appeared that English O’Brien delighted in such stories, but not because of the paranormal cost. Rather, he thought they proved his theories. He was sure that the use of artifacts was nothing to trifle with.
Then I found it, a bound volume of the man’s own writings and notes. I seized it off the shelf and sat down on the floor. I had to create a small flame with my hand, since there was virtually no other light in the row of shelves where I’d found English O’Brien’s works.
Then I started to read.
For a moment I considered stealing the volume and taking it to Astra, but I soon thought better of it. If the pixies found out I had done such a thing, they’d hunt me down and kill me. Camilla would be the least of my problems in terms of troublesome pixies. I’d have to find out what I needed right here, right now.
O’Brien had made all sorts of scribbles and notes on the changing landscape of Paranormal Public. He had also recorded the designs for his cabin. He had apparently built it from scraps of wood he’d found around the place, and he’d taken years to perfect it. He didn’t keep much there. Most of what he kept was in his office.
Another lightbulb went off. I should also find out where his office had been. Maybe some of his papers were still there, or maybe they’d been stored in the Long Building, like so much else over the years.
I read along as quickly as I could, but I was fast losing hope that I’d be able to find anything useful in the span of time we had. Every moment we stayed in Volans we risked being caught or captured. I had made it clear to my fellow students and any intruders that I had broad rights when I was in my own dorm, but the downside of that assertion was that the pixies could claim the same for themselves here in Volans.
Normally I wouldn’t have cared, because normally I didn’t break into other dorms.
Today was not that kind of day.
Then I found a section that might actually help my quest for the artifacts on the Wheel.
I bit down on my lower lip as I read the following:
Been digging a lot more holes around school recently in an effort to see what the soil composition is like here. Side effect and benefit is that I see how the school takes to my behavior. I think they’re just happy I’m staying occupied. You’d think they felt as if I were causing trouble. I am not. I’m engaged in the most important work. Difficult and time-consuming, but I intend to be a success at it. The soil composition is good. I do think that the history of Public was that it was built on top of the farm. There is little evidence of that anymore except that I found a trowel.
My mother wanted me to garden more when I was a child. Now here’s my chance, I suppose.
I haven’t put my plan into place yet in terms of the holes. This will require a long-term strategy. I must not rush into anything foolish. If I put anything important in the holes and then an administrator comes along and digs them up, then what do we have left? Nothing good. It has become increasingly difficult for me to keep any of the artifacts safe. Times were when paranormals respected each other’s claim to ownership. Those times are long past. Not that I worry about the threat to myself. It is merely the artifacts that concern me.
Therefore I have designed a strategy that I think is ingenious. Helen would have approved.
This strategy will take years to perfect. The big news is, I know that
in all paranormal history nothing like this has ever been done before. My enemies won’t be expecting it. Those who seek to corrode the power of the magical artifacts will not be expecting it.
All I fear is that I will not complete my work before they find me and the artifacts. Oh, they know where I am. Sort of. But the strength and majesty of the artifacts help keep me protected. That will only last so long, though. Every day they come closer. Every day I know what they search for.
What I must do is to hide the artifacts before they kill me. So long as I can manage that, I know I will have done my life’s work. With the artifacts safe it will be incredibly difficult for anyone to come along and find them.
Only someone with a great heart and a pure mind will be able to do so. There are fewer and fewer paranormals of that ilk these days than ever before. I fear the corruption of power.
I am saddened over the loss of respect for magic for magic’s sake. When did we turn against each other?
My enemies are not powerful yet. But they hunger for power. They will grow stronger over the years. What I also know to be true is that they will bide their time. There are so many small paranormal factions. They will let all of those groups fight out their problems. They will let us weaken each other. Go after each other. We must not let this happen.
That is why I’ve decided to hide the artifacts instead of sell them. Selling them would be too easy. To sell them would be to admit that I want the money. I care not for money.
What I care for is the preservation of honesty. That can only come one way, but it will not be an easy road.
I need fourteen months. If I conduct the proper experiments for fourteen months and nothing goes terribly wrong, I will have managed my work.
One thing I wish is that I had help in the digging. Sometimes I do, but rarely. I have not told anyone my secret. If my plan must be sped up for any reason, though, it might turn out that I will have to share the information so as to share the work. Once I tell someone else, there will be even more danger. I’m not sure I can risk it. I fear even writing my secret down on the page. I just have to hide that. That’s all I have to do.
I glanced at the date of the Digger’s notes and flipped through a few more pages. The last entry was seven months after that. Had he died after that? I could read a basic biography of him to find out.
Sigil could probably help me with that.
Had he sped up his work, or had it been interrupted? He certainly sounded as if he was talking about burying artifacts around school. If that was the case, I hoped he had finished the job. The grounds of Paranormal Public were vast. They offered an excellent defense against greedy Hunters.
But now even the Hunters knew where the artifacts were, and they’d be coming for them soon.
If they were not already here.
Just then I heard a scraping sound down below. I quickly shut the volume, extinguished the fire in my hands, and scrambled to my feet.
I raced to the stairs and saw Eighellie at the bottom waving frantically and pointing toward the door. I shrugged and hurried down to her.
“What is it?” I hissed.
“I think we set off some sort of alarm,” she said.
“I don’t think so. My magic stopped it,” I said.
“I don’t think your breaking in is what did it. I think the door didn’t close all the way,” she said.
“You have got to be kidding me,” said Keegan.
“Is there another way out of here?” I asked Eighellie.
“There was another door near where I was searching. I didn’t find anything useful, by the way,” she said.
I glanced back up to where I had been sitting. “I found plenty,” I said. “I’ll fill you in when our lives aren’t at stake.”
“When exactly will that be?” Keegan muttered.
“Good question,” I replied.
“This way,” Eighellie said.
The three of us dashed down one of the long aisles of the library, running mostly in darkness. The books blocked the dim evening lighting that was still on. As we reached the second door Eighellie had seen, we heard the first door open wide.
She had been right. An alarm had been set off.
We stopped before the door. “If we open that, they’ll hear it,” said Keegan.
“If we don’t, they’ll find us anyhow,” said Eighellie.
“We have to open it,” I said.
“Here goes nothing,” Eighellie said. She put her shoulder into the door and shoved. Sure enough, the door scraped open. Immediately from behind us there were yells.
“Go go go!” Keegan cried.
And with that we dashed away. Another dark staircase met us. Like the one we had come up the first time, this clearly belonged to a service entrance. Only for emergencies, it wasn’t decorated or beautiful.
We slammed down the stairs. None of us could really see, but it didn’t exactly matter; we knew where we had to go. Just as we reached the bottom landing, we heard the door open again and more voices yelling.
Eighellie shoved the door in front of us open and we emerged into a beautiful chamber. From behind a door at the other end of the space I could hear laughter. I also smelled something amazing.
“Think that’s the kitchen?” Keegan panted. He almost bent down to brace his hands on his knees, but thought better of it.
“Yeah, I do,” said Eighellie. “This way.”
She dashed off again. We ran in the opposite direction from the kitchen. Eighellie had an excellent sense of direction; I hoped it didn’t fail her now. We passed several windows. I was tempted to stop and say that we should jump through one. Instead I followed my friend.
We heard the door behind us bang open. Yells from the pixies soon followed.
I imagined all the pixies in the kitchen catching wind that something had gone terribly wrong in their dorm.
Now we had a horde of pixies chasing us: not as bad as a horde of Hunters, but close. Besides, when it came right down to it, some of the pixies probably were Hunters.
Behind me Keegan’s footsteps were heavy. He was losing steam quickly.
Breathless, we plowed on.
A stitch formed in my side.
“Let’s go,” Eighellie gasped.
From behind us I heard a whooshing sound.
“They’re throwing pixie dust at us!” Eighellie yelled.
Over my shoulder I held my ring and fired a shield.
Essence was hard to track or understand. To the untrained eye it could look a lot like darkness. There was a hissing as Glamour met essence and both fizzled.
“Nicely done,” cried Eighellie.
She led us back the way we’d come.
A smart move, since the older part of Volans didn’t appear to have much foot traffic.
Once we were safely in the dark hallway again, Keegan halted. He gasped and bent over. “This isn’t some military academy where we’re expected to be fit,” he cried. “I can’t breathe.”
I raised my hand and let the fire burn once again. Keegan was hobbling forward, throwing his weight as best he could. I grabbed him under the arm and helped him along.
“I think I twisted my ankle,” he muttered. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I told him. “We’ll get out of here.”
“Sure we will,” he gritted out.
Once we were in the strange basement where we had entered, I felt better. There were still yells behind us and the pounding of feet, but I figured we’d lost them.
“Did any of them see you?” Eighellie asked in the darkness.
“I don’t think so. They might recognize the essence, though.”
“They might, but they won’t be able to prove anything,” she said grimly. “Let’s get out of here.”
Keegan parted the bushes again and we fled into the night.
We were almost to the safety of the grounds of Astra when I looked back.
Hannah was staring after us with several pixies around her. I knew all o
f them. All of them knew us. They couldn’t prove that we were the ones who had broken in, but no matter. They were not likely to forgive us for it.
We kept walking. We were almost at the door of my dorm, where we were all going to stay the night, when a voice said, “Just where do you think you’re going?” It was Lewis.
We all stopped dead.
Dobrov had caught us out after curfew.
Chapter Nineteen
Students were routinely caught out at night. Punishments were routine as well.
The next day a volunteer crew was gathering to clean the outside of Featherton, recent snow or no. Dobrov volunteered us to join the crew, expressionless as he assigned us our punishment. He didn’t ask us why the pixies were chasing us, or why they roamed the boundaries of Astra like animals kept from prey.
Eighellie said it certainly could have been worse.
The morning was crisp and cold. At least there was no snow or rain for once. My friends and I left the dorm in time to go to the dining hall for breakfast, having decided that if we were going to be outside all day, it was best to have a more substantial breakfast than we’d have had in Astra on our own. Unsurprisingly given the early hour, the dining room was only sparsely populated with other students. We did run into Candace and Greek, though, and eventually Ostelle showed up too.
“Morning,” said Greek. “Are you ready to do this?”
He and Candace were among those who would be joining our little cleaning club.
“I was actually hoping to spend more time sleeping,” said Keegan.
“You have a treehouse, don’t you?” Candace asked.
“Yeah, how did you know that?” he asked.
At that moment Beatrice came gliding past. “Hey there,” she said.
“What are you doing here this fine morning?” Greek asked her.
Many paranormals liked Beatrice, but one who didn’t was Averett. I had been surprised at that, given that Beatrice had easily fallen into the patterns and routines of the school, and others seemed to like her as well.
Beatrice winked at Greek. “I just like to get up early,” she said. “I don’t really sleep much given that I also stay up late.”
Elemental Unity Page 13
