by Morgan Rice
If only I had my powers, Chris thought. Then I’d show him who was strongest.
He watched, completely helpless, as Malcolm’s fist came toward his face for a fourth time. But before it made contact, Chris felt a sudden change come over his body. It only took a split-second for a sudden ripple of power to emanate from his heart. It was a surge of his powers. They’d come back to him.
Chris jerked his head sideways and Malcolm’s fist missed him. His movement had been agile, instinctive, and lightning-fast.
Malcolm only had time to flash Chris a perplexed expression of confusion before Chris retaliated.
He jabbed forward with his hand. The heel collided with Malcolm’s chin. The boy went arching back through the air. He flew all the way to the other side of the inn and slammed into the wall so hard he left a dent.
The Obsidian students descended into excited hollering, like spectators at a sports match.
Chris felt the invisible chains Malcolm had bound him with disappear. He leapt up to his feet, suddenly as light as a feather, and looked down at his hands. He could feel a crackle of energy in them. His powers had rejuvenated and they were stronger now than before.
He grabbed a pint glass from one of the tables. This time it didn’t automatically melt in his hands. He squeezed and the glass shattered.
“Perfect,” Chris muttered with a grin.
He locked gazes with Malcolm sprawled on the floor. The boy’s eyes were suddenly filled with shock.
Chris thumped over and looked down at him.
All the Obsidian kids started to speak in excited, hurried whispers. This was exactly the sort of thing they loved, Chris could tell. He loved it too. It was time to take his position as leader.
“Strongest is leader, right?” he said, looking down his nose at Malcolm’s heaped form. “Then I challenge you to a fight. Let’s find out who’s strongest once and for all.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
“What’s your name?” Oliver asked, as he and the boy walked along the alleyway, their footsteps clacking against the cobblestone.
Esther and Ralph were just behind, keeping a lookout in case the Obsidian School kids ambushed them again.
“Michael,” the boy replied. “Michael Chapelman.”
“That’s Esther and Ralph,” Oliver said, pointing at each of them in turn. “And I’m Oliver Blue. You work for Newton, don’t you? In his country manor.”
“Sort of,” Michael explained. “My father is a farmer on the land there and he needs me to work to help pay the bills, so I help out at the stables and do odd jobs for Miss Dean. Father wants me to follow in his footsteps and become a farmer, too.”
“But you’re actually a seer,” Oliver finished for him.
“Yes. Except we call ourselves future-sighted. I don’t think the term seer is adopted fully for at least another hundred years.”
“You seem very young to already have powers, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Not at all,” Michael replied. “I’m ten, the youngest at my school.”
“How did you find out you were future-sighted?”
“Because of my link to Newton,” Michael explained. “He’s friends with time-traveling professors. I believe they initially thought he’d be gifted himself. But in reality, he’s just an exceptional human. Anyway, the professors realized I had the gift of future-sight almost immediately. One of the teachers came to fetch me on my tenth birthday. At first, my father let me attend the school. It was on his master’s orders, after all. But after a few months, he requested for me to be sent home. He said it was all witchcraft and he wants me to have no part of it. Then he forbade me from coming back.”
His story resonated with Oliver. Parents who didn’t understand, who stopped their children from fulfilling their potential, subjecting them to a life of hard work and misery… it was all a little close to his own upbringing. Not to mention the fact that Michael was so poorly treated by Miss Dean and looked half-starved. He reminded Oliver a lot of himself, and his story made Oliver feel a great sense of pity toward him.
“That’s a point,” Oliver said, suddenly thinking of something. “How did you get here? To London, I mean.”
Michael gave him a mischievous grin. “When Miss Dean said it was on Professor Amethyst’s orders, I knew it was my only chance. That name’s a big deal around the manor. None of the staff know why, they just know that if a message comes from Professor Amethyst they’re to obey immediately.”
“But you know.”
“Of course. Professor Amethyst is one of the most powerful seers to ever live!” Michael’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I knew it was my one shot. So I snuck into the carriage when no one was looking, into the luggage rack that sits beneath it.”
Oliver’s mouth gaped open. “You were underneath the horse-drawn carriage that whole time?”
Michael nodded. “It wasn’t particularly comfortable but I’m used to much worse.”
He fell silent then. Oliver knew he was referring to the awful working conditions he was subjected to by Miss Dean, Newton’s housekeeper. He felt very bad for Michael, especially the part about his father forbidding him from coming to the school.
“Did you know,” Oliver said, encouragingly, “that Newton himself had a similar experience? His mother wanted him to be a farmer, just like his own father. It wasn’t easy for him to convince her that he had a brilliant, unique mind that needed proper schooling. And look how that worked out.”
Michael smiled. “Yes. Master Newton is very inspirational. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have even had the chance to begin with. Say, does he go on to invent even more brilliant things?”
Oliver smiled then. “You just wait and see.”
They carried on their journey, weaving through the narrow streets of London. They passed several coffee houses filled with young men enjoying the recently imported teas and coffees from China, as well as ale houses.
As they walked, they tried to avoid all the peddlers attempting to sell their wares.
“Eels!” Ralph exclaimed. “Did you see that? He was selling jellied eels! A whole basket of them!”
Michael laughed. “It’s a very popular delicacy round these parts. Jellied eels. Cockles. Oysters. Meat is only really eaten by the wealthy. The rest of us make do with what you can catch in the river.”
Oliver realized then that they were roughly following the route of the Thames westward. The river was full of merchant vessels bringing in exotic spices to the folk of London. It looked extremely polluted. The last thing he’d want to do was eat something that had been fished from its waters.
“Is this your first time going back to the school?” Oliver asked Michael. “Since your father removed you, I mean?”
Michael nodded. “I wonder if my friends will have missed me.”
Oliver thought about the rest of his friends back at the School for Seers; Walter, Simon, and Hazel. They were all in danger. Every second that passed with the Orb of Kandra out of the school was another second it came closer to collapsing.
“I’m sure they did,” Oliver replied. “They’ll be very pleased to see you.”
“I hope so,” came Michael’s somber reply.
The roads started to widen, a clear sign they’d reached a wealthier area. But instead of grand houses like the one Newton resided in, there were instead many burnt out shells of homes standing derelict. Rats scurried through the ruins.
“What happened here?” Esther asked.
“The Great Fire,” Michael explained, glancing over his shoulder at her.
“Of course,” Oliver said.
He’d read all about the Fire of London in 1666. It had devastated the city. Even twenty-four years later it was still in the process of being rebuilt.
“That was another reason my father didn’t want me to leave Winchester,” Michael added. “The Great Fire. The Plague. He thinks London must be cursed.”
They continued walking through the fire-damaged streets. After
a short while, newly built houses began to appear once again.
“All houses must be built with brick now,” Michael told them. “That way any fires won’t spread so quickly.”
Finally, they came to the westernmost reaches of London. Michael directed them down a dark alleyway sandwiched between two very tall buildings.
“The school is shrouded,” he explained.
Oliver looked at Esther. She’d been right. This was the shrouded school Newton had told them of.
She pulled out Newton’s spyglass and looked through. She nodded in confirmation. “It’s beautiful.”
They reached a large steel door. Michael rapped his knuckles against it rhythmically. It sounded like some kind of special, secret knock. It was all very different from the holographic entrance door to the School for Seers and the slide-like vent one had to ride in order to reach it.
With the screeching sound of metal on metal, a small window slit opened in the door. Two suspicious eyes peered out through the slit at Oliver, Esther, and Ralph. When they rested on Michael, they widened with recognition.
“It’s me, Michael Chapelman,” the boy said, stepping closer to the door. “I’m a student here at the London School for the Future-Sighted.”
“I can see that!” came the muffled voice from behind the door.
There came the sound of a bolt unlatching inside, and a handle turning, then the door squeaked open. A widely smiling boy stood on the other side, his eyes no longer suspicious but filled with joy.
“Well, I never! Michael Chapelman! Never thought I’d see you again!”
He leapt forward and hugged the bony Michael tightly.
“Samuel,” Michael said in a strained voice, his chest squeezed too tightly to make proper words.
Samuel let Michael go. He glanced at the three others, from Oliver to Ralph, and finally Esther. His gaze lingered on her a little longer than Oliver would have liked.
“Who are your friends?” Samuel asked.
“Other seers,” Michael replied.
Samuel frowned. “What are they doing here?”
Michael lowered his voice. “Let’s get inside. It’s not safe to talk out here.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Chris and Malcolm stood face to face in the alleyway outside the Lion Inn. The sky was starting to darken. All around them stood the rest of the Obsidian kids. The atmosphere was electric, the tension between Malcolm and Chris palpable.
Chris knew he only had one shot at this. If Malcolm beat him again in front of everyone then he’d never win their respect and take his position as leader. But he was also aware that the powers that had come to him so far were in their infancy. He had no idea how to really control them, or what they even did. Besides melting things and being able to move more quickly, he had no idea what powers the universe had actually decided to imbue him with. Malcolm had already bragged about his own atomic specialism, which was supposedly the strongest type a seer could have. This wasn’t going to be an easy fight. But Chris was determined. And what he lacked in powers he certainly made up with in experience. He had thirteen years of bullying under his belt, after all, whereas Malcolm looked like the kind of wimp who’d spent his whole childhood on the receiving end of torment.
Between them stood a ginger-haired girl. She was taking on a referee role.
“The rules are as follows,” she said, projecting her voice so all the Obsidians could hear. “Anything goes! That’s it. One rule.”
Chris met Malcolm’s glare. His eyes were fixed on him. He glared right back.
“On the count of three,” the girl cried. “One! Two! Three! Let the duel commence!”
Malcolm moved at lightning speed. One of his invisible bindings gripped Chris about the arms, squeezing them into his middle. It felt like a python had hold of him.
Chris knew that his powers seemed concentrated in his hands. Wriggling his trapped hands upward, he was just able to grasp hold of the magical ropes he could not see. Malcolm winced in pain as Chris gripped hold of the ropes. They melted away in his hands. He was free.
Chris charged, taking the split-second opportunity he’d gained. He knew he had to get his hands on Malcolm if he stood any chance of winning.
Malcolm jumped to the side but Chris reached out and grabbed his sweater. The threads went up in flames, burning a fist-sized hole in Malcolm’s uniform.
Everyone cheered.
Malcolm looked down at the scorch mark, furious. “How dare you!” he bellowed.
He came at Chris, hands bared, and got him round the throat. Using his powers to help, he pushed him up against the wall of the alleyway. Chris dangled there, several feet above the ground. He tried to lash out with his arms but Malcolm had pinned them against the wall too. There was no way he could move.
Malcolm’s eyes bulged with menace as he stared evilly at Chris. Chris had never seen such hatred and rage. The boy was a psycho, he could see that now. Malcolm wanted to actually kill him.
“Malcolm…” the ginger girl said from behind.
“You said anything goes,” Malcolm replied without missing a beat.
“But this isn’t a fight to the death!” the girl screamed.
Chris gasped for breath but couldn’t get in even the smallest amount. He felt his life draining out of him. He thrashed and tried as best he could to make physical contact with Malcolm. But when he finally freed a hand and grasped him, he discovered he had nothing left. The small amount of powers he’d been imbued with seemed to have run out completely. All that happened now was a fizz coming from his palm.
Malcolm laughed.
This was it, Chris thought. He’d messed up his one shot to take down Malcolm. And now he was going to die.
Blackness seeped into his vision.
“Malcolm!” the ginger referee cried again.
Just as Chris was about to lose consciousness, Malcolm finally let go.
Chris slid to the floor and took a huge gasp. He lay there in a heap as oxygen flooded his starved body.
“You’re playing dirty,” he heard the referee girl say to Malcolm.
“I’m using my strength,” Malcolm shot back. “That’s what the duel’s about.”
Chris wanted to get back up and keep sparring but his body felt like shattered glass. He just managed to get on all fours when, suddenly, heat raced through him like a red-hot lava. It was more intense than his usual fury. In fact, he felt like he was getting hotter and hotter.
“Look!” someone yelled.
Chris glanced down at his hands and saw steam was coming off them. Then a pain like none other lanced through his entire body. He screamed. A black light burst from his mouth.
The Obsidian students gathered around him in a circle, watching with expressions of alarm.
“A black light!” someone cried.
“But that can only mean one thing,” another said.
“His specialism is nuclear!” a third gasped.
Chris screamed until he’d run out of air in his lungs. Then the light shut out and he fell forward, landing on his face in a cold puddle of rainwater. He curled into a ball, feeling like every nerve ending was on fire.
Silence fell.
Chris lay there, letting the cold water cool his searing skin. Then the pain started to ebb away. Where his hand lay in a puddle, he noticed that the water was starting to hiss and bubble like toxic waste. Could this be the nuclear specialism he’d overheard someone mention?
He pulled himself to sitting. In the place where he’d lain there was now an outline of his body. The ground beneath was melting and giving off noxious fumes.
“It’s true!” someone cried. “He’s nuclear!”
“But there hasn’t been a nuclear in centuries,” someone else stammered.
Chris could hear the awe and fear in their voice.
“I heard it was banned,” a third whispered.
The more Chris overheard in their whispers, the more powerful he felt. By the sounds of things, he’d been given a
n extra special power. A rare one. A potentially very dangerous one. It must be a better power than all these wimps put together by the way they whispered with awe. Mistress Obsidian must have seen how special he was to have given him such incredible strength.
Finally, he got to his feet, surprised to find his body no longer feeling battered but strong. He turned to look at his sparring partner. Malcolm’s eyes were wide with terror. Talk about poetic justice.
Chris held up his hand and saw green toxic goo covering them. He grinned. “Shall we carry on our fight?”
But Malcolm seemed to have lost all of his resolve. In fact, Chris could see that he’d started to tremble.
Chris let out a loud bark of a laugh. “Or are you too scared?” he challenged.
Malcolm seemed too shocked to even speak. “No…” he stammered.
Chris leapt on the opportunity to draw attention to his weakness. He looked at the Obsidians.
“Is this who you want to follow?” he sneered. “This pathetic, sniveling wretch? This coward who’s too afraid to finish our duel now that he’s discovered my specialism is nuclear?”
“I’m not too afraid,” Malcolm said in a wholly unconvincing voice.
The Obsidian kids watched Chris with rapt attention. He knew he had them now.
“Or,” he bellowed, “do you want to follow me? Someone who not only has strength through his powers, but is physically strong as well? Someone who can fight hand-to-hand combat, and who’s mentally strong enough to finish what he’s started?” He directed the last scathing comment at Malcolm.
The group began to cheer. Then they started chanting.
“Chris! Chris! Chris!”
A grin spread across Chris’s lips. He looked at Malcolm, whose face was a picture. He’d lost his spot as leader. Chris was ready to take his rightful position at the throne.
“Good,” Chris snapped. “Then it’s settled. Now let’s stop wasting time. We have a mission to complete. It’s time to destroy Oliver once and for all.”
