Grave Digger Academy II

by c a king

  “Simple.” A smile graced Headmistress Meet’s face. “I convinced the Crones you, along with your classmates, were dedicated to your academy. As such, there was no need to worry about your possible interest in necromancy.”

  “They took your word for it?” Makayla asked.

  “No, of course not.” The headmistress clasped her hands together. “But by participating and doing well in the Inter-Academy Games on behalf of Grave Diggers, you prove your loyalty. As long as you are on the team, I am within my rights to allow you all the rights any team member would have... thus reinstating the majority of what you would have lost. Consider it a loophole and a gift.”

  “So that’s why I am allowed to sit with them,” Makayla mumbled.

  “Team members need to discuss strategy,” the headmistress chuckled. “They also need to go to town for supplies.”

  “And if I choose not to participate?” Makayla cocked her head waiting the reply. “What then?”

  “Well.” Mary Meet’s eyes dulled, colour draining from her face rapidly. “Things would change drastically. Guards would be assigned to students, watching their every move. The teachers here would be replaced. These very walls would become a prison.” She paused replacing her glasses. “I think it best we don’t push those particular buttons, don’t you?”

  Makayla shrugged. That logic was hard to argue with. “I hate being laughed at,” she sighed. “We can’t win.”

  “You won’t know that unless you try,” the headmistress snickered. “We don’t even know the details of the competition yet. You never know, things may work out in your favour.”

  “How many times has anything favourable happened to this academy in the past few years?” Makayla asked, pausing to wait for an answer. “That’s what I thought.”

  Headmistress Meet kept her focus on some paperwork. “That doesn’t mean it will stay that way. Believe in yourself as much as I believe in you. I trust you’ll lighten the mood with your comrades before I speak with them.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Makayla huffed. “I suppose I have no other choice.” She headed for the door.

  “You always have a choice,” the headmistress called after her. “That’s the best part of life. Always remember that. Oh, one other thing... we’ll need to discuss how you arrived this year.”

  “The portal in the library,” Makayla replied. “Anything else?”

  Headmistress Meet leaned back in her chair, mouth open but remaining speechless. Her eyes slanted.

  “Is something wrong?” Makayla asked, still standing at the exit.

  “The second year portal is in the gym,” the headmistress explained. “You shouldn’t have been able to use the same entrance as last year.”

  “We didn’t,” Makayla replied. “It was a different section, a different book, and an odd vortex. I have to admit it was rather frightening. It dropped us on the path beside the cemetery.”

  “Which book?”

  “Oddly enough, one on portals and teleportation magic.” Makayla shrugged. “I’m glad it worked, even if it wasn’t the proper route to follow.”

  “Yes.” Mary Meet forced a smile. “I am, too.”

  Chapter Seven

  A fire crackled in the common room’s oversized fireplace. Shadows of flames danced on the stone grey walls—a tribute no doubt to the weather gods—meant to keep an approaching storm at bay. In the end, it was a useless gesture. Lightning cracked its whip, a thunderous boom sounding immediately after. The game was a foot, drops of rain competing with one another in a race to the ground. Lights flickered, extinguishing in unison. The wicks of candles ignited one by one without match or aid.

  “So how bad did you get reamed out this time?” Thomas asked, ignoring the lighting and storm. Instead, he pulled a toasted marshmallow from the roaring flames—one of his favourite pastimes since entering the academy. The gooey mess came off its stick with ease. Trying to shove it all in his mouth in one go left trademarked traces of sticky white smudges around his mouth.

  “There was no reaming,” Makayla replied. “It was more an informational session than anything else.”

  “Really?” Leo’s brow arched. “And, pray tell, what exactly was this gathering of the minds about?” His snarky tone was noted by all.

  “Last year... this year.” Makayla paused. “I’m sure you’ve all been wondering why we are allowed to speak to one another. Headmistress Meet went through an enormous amount of work to make that happen.”

  “Bully for her,” Leo snarled, the corner of one side of his mouth twitching. “She could have spent a little of that time enforcing my ticket out of this dump, but no, it’s all about Makayla and her dirty deeds.”

  “That’s not fair!” Thomas exclaimed. “It wasn’t all her fault.”

  “It mostly was,” Cali sighed. “I mean, she did use the grave digger shovels without permission. That’s what started it all.”

  “Which wouldn’t have been a problem, if not for Woolly,” Makayla argued. “I had no idea he was in the cemetery.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact it was your idea to leave school grounds,” Leo barked. “I, for one, didn’t follow you.”

  “You couldn’t.” Cali rolled her eyes.

  “None of you did,” Makayla complained. “You left me to handle Frankie and pals as I recall.” She inhaled deeply, exhaling with her eyes closed. “That’s neither here nor there. The fact is, if we don’t go along with the plan, we’ll be separated and the Crones are going to post guards on each of us.”

  “Why should I care?” Ill intent reflected in Leo’s eyes.

  “I don’t know,” Makayla hissed, “but I doubt notes from guards on your transfer application would look appealing to other academies.”

  Leo’s lips pursed, head bobbing. “Fine! So what’s this grand plan all about? Are they sending us to find Woolly?”

  “Do you know where he is?” Makayla questioned.

  “Of course not,” Leo replied, ignoring the glares. “I was merely trying to confirm he was still out there, and by your response, I assume he is.”

  “This has nothing to do with Woolly,” Makayla sighed. “Headmistress Meet has suggested that we show some school spirit.”

  “So we’re having a graveside pep rally?” Cali asked, forehead wrinkled. “Do we need pompoms?”

  “Not exactly,” Makayla bit her bottom lip, trying to escape the inevitable. “She signed us up for the Inter-Academy tournament.”

  “What?!” Leo yelled.

  “Brilliant.” Thomas pulled three more marshmallows off his stick, filling his mouth with white goo. “I wasn’t sure they’d let me join.” He rubbed his stomach. “Guess I’m officially on a diet.”

  Cali rubbed her eyes, fingers spreading to cover her whole face. “Are you saying we don’t have a choice?”

  “I already told you the alternative.” Makayla winced. “Guards and lockdown or school spirit. Apparently the Crones agree... participating means we are faithful to our school and not troublemakers.”

  “Just perfect.” Leo tossed a newspaper on the ground, stomping off. “Meeting you, ruined my entire life.”

  “That’s not nice,” Thomas called after him.

  “I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean you,” Cali whispered, loud enough to be heard. Lightning struck in the background. A branch screeching against glass made the same sound as nails on a chalkboard. “Come on.” She held out her hand to a still seated Thomas. “We should go.”

  “Great,” Makayla yelled, watching the two disappear down the hallway. Feet heavy with burdens stomped their way to her bedroom door. It slammed with a thunderous boom.

  Visions of friends sitting up to all hours with flashlights telling ghost stories vanished long ago. For the moment, she would have settled for speaking to one another civilly. There wasn’t enough time to fully explain all the details. No one wanted to hear about last year’s problems, let alone deal with them. Now, having a normal second year seemed close to impossible. They were separate
d in a whole new way. Then again, perhaps a good night’s sleep was all that was needed.

  They each had their own quarters, joined only by a hallway and three sets of bathrooms. One for females, one for males, and one gender neutral—a castle hundreds of years old being more considerate of people’s needs than most newly built buildings still amazed her.

  She glanced at her luggage stacked in a corner, opting to flop on the bed and do nothing, instead of unpack. She twisted, a crinkling noise coming from behind her back. A roll to the side freed up the long list of revised rules—just what she wasn’t looking for. Makayla tossed it aside, choosing to ignore responsibility for a bit longer. A large wooden crate was waiting for her and it needed to be opened soon. She peeled a piece of paper off the side.

  Look outside your window.

  That was all she wrote. It wasn’t signed or addressed, but it was obviously from the headmistress. Makayla huffed. Life would be easier if people were more direct. She hesitated for a moment, staring at the handwritten note before moving to the window. The black drapes pulled back, allowing the storm’s light show to take centre stage.

  Rain or not, she was taking a peek outside. The latch clicked, the panes bursting open with a gust of wind and rain. Arms in front of her face, she pushed forward, sticking her head outside.

  The scenery was comparable to what she remembered of the previous year, providing a birds-eye view of the grave digger plot and courtyard.

  “It looks the same,” Makayla huffed, blinking drops of rain from her eyes. “So what...” She glanced sideways.

  Yellow gems glistened against a black body, burning a hole through to her soul as they followed her every move. A lifeless grin widened, mocking her. It was living art, seated on a pedestal. On the opposite side the top of the column was empty. The wind howled a message meant just for a creature’s oversized ears or their wizards.

  “Of course.” Makayla pulled herself back in. It was dark, even if night was still approaching. He was bound to be rousing. Next time sleep came, there was no need for a crate. Gargle now had his own home to safely return to.

  Chapter Eight

  “What a fine bunch of students we have here,” a man wearing thick glasses said, standing at the front of the room. “I’m your new instructor, Mr. Snailime. I trust you all have your helpers, yes?” There was no waiting for an answer. Presumably anyone who graduated to second year had at least one. “This class will be based entirely on making them stronger. Go on then... bring them out.”

  The grumbling of students formed a low hum, each exchanging glances with other students.

  Makayla’s arm rose first. Even so, she didn’t wait to be acknowledged. “Professor, I can’t. It’s impossible.”

  “Are you saying you don’t have one?” Snailime’s forehead wrinkled, accentuating his lack of eyebrows.

  “Not at all,” Makayla answered with a smile. “I have two actually.” She opened her mouth to continue, an icy cold glare shutting it immediately after without articulating so much as a single word.

  Snailime grinned, showing off a mouthful of uneven teeth. “Well then... let’s see them. Chop. Chop. We don’t have all day.”

  “I... I... I.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Snailime asked, his hand circling at the wrist. “You did bring them to class, didn’t you.”

  “She can summon,” Thomas boasted, leaning into the conversation. “It’s amazing, if you ask me.”

  “Yes. Quite.” The professor’s smile grew tenfold. “I have to admit, even I am impressed. Do your worst, then.” He shoved fingers into his vest pocket. “Show me those babies.”

  A glare was too good for Thomas. An earful was waiting for him at the end of class. If she could pry him away from Cali. That was a very big if. “The thing is... they aren’t babies anymore.”

  “They never are, are they?” A wild fire lit deep in the black of Snailime’s eyes. “I must insist, however, on seeing this newfound ability your classmate so eagerly boasts about.”

  “The room isn’t big enough,” Makayla blurted out.

  “Tsk. You’re a fiery little thing aren’t you?” Snailime’s grin remained, although the conviction behind it faltered slightly. “Tell me, what sort of helper would outgrow an entire classroom?” One finger wagged in front of her nose. “Answer carefully. I’ll decide if you are allowed to continue in this class based on your words. Most second-year helpers still fit in a backpack, after all.”

  “Puffer is a dragon,” Makayla answered, eyes averted to the ground.

  Snailime chuckled, “Tsk. Tsk.” His finger waved back and forth. “I see what’s happening here.” He caressed the small tuft of whiskers on the bottom of his chin. “Dragons are quite rare, aren’t they? Between their small numbers and tendency to stay clear of people, there really isn’t a lot of information on them.” His body leaned on the desk, their faces coming within inches of each other. “Students should have more faith in their teachers.”

  “I... I... don’t understand.” Makayla pulled back, almost tipping over the stool she was perched upon.

  “Dragons are born quite tiny,” Snailime snickered. “Small enough to fit in the palm of one’s hand.”

  “Puffer was little!” Makayla exclaimed. “He grew. I mean he’s not as big as a full-sized dragon or anything...”

  Snailime stopped her with a glare. “Do you know what this class is about, young lady?” He held up his hand, palm first. “Don’t answer that. I’ll tell you. It’s about assisting your helpers grow both in size and ability. You need to learn to nurture your bonds before any serious growth can happen.”

  “I’m not lying, Professor,” Makayla insisted. “If I summon Puffer here, the room would be endangered.”

  “All right.” The professor paced up and down the aisle. “You have two helpers, correct?” He side-eyed his student, searching for any signs of nervousness. “Summon the second one.”

  “I can’t,” Makayla sighed.

  “You are trying my patience, Miss.” The professor’s fist came down with a bang on her desk.

  “It’s daytime,” Makayla blurted out, cringing. “He doesn’t come out in the light. I can only summon him at night or in dark places.”

  “Why would that be?” Snailime questioned, a frown etched deep into his facial features.

  “He’s a gargoyle,” Makayla said softly. “He turns to stone in the light.” Her shoulders shrugged.”

  “I see,” Snailime chuckled. “So you are telling me that you have, not one, but two of the legendary mythological helpers?”

  “Uh-huh,” Makayla replied.

  The professor clapped his hands. “How wonderfully perfect,” he cackled, vibrating the walls.

  Thomas held out his hands. “This is mine.”

  Snailime shook his head. “That’s an ordinary squirrel,” he huffed. “Is that all this class has to offer? Stories of rare creatures we can’t see and non-magical rodents? I’m most disappointed.”

  “If we go outside for a minute...” Makayla’s mouth slammed shut, seeing the whites of her instructor’s bloodshot eyes.

  “Silence!” Snailime bellowed. He waved his hand over the front desk, a large snail appearing instantly. “This is a summoned helper. Note the way his shell glistens, the viscosity of his slime.”

  “I’m not sure I see what you mean, Professor,” Thomas commented. “It looks like a snail, although much bigger than the run-of-the-mill ones.”

  “Are you blind?” Snailime bellowed. “Turbo is the perfect magical aid.” His fingers massaged his temples. “None of you have the foggiest clue as to what an actual helper should be. This is all basic know-how for all grave digger wizards.”

  “We weren’t actually taught anything about them,” Frankie scoffed. “Perhaps we should start with a quick informational lecture. About all we know was what our previous professor said.”

  “And what was that?” Snailime snapped.

  Frankie blew a bubble formed from utter dis
respect. “That there are no spells that can help with communication. Learning about our helpers is something we simply need to do on our own. It’s an important bonding process. He also said there were somethings which could not be taught. Apparently, trial and error is what makes us great.” She flipped one curly pigtail behind her shoulder.

  “Poppycock! Are you trying to tell me how to teach my class?!” Snailime yelled. “I won’t have such insolence. All of you, back to the forest. I don’t want you to return here until you all have proper helpers. You have two weeks or you fail, no exceptions.” He fluffed the back of his robe before sitting behind the front desk. “What are you waiting for?” One hand waved the students off. “Class dismissed.”

  Chapter Nine

  Orange carpeting, grey stone walls, mismatched shelving units; not much had changed in the makeshift library. Finding anything, among the existing two or three books afforded per student, was still a chore; the number hadn’t increased over the break and was considerably low in comparison to any of the other academies. It wasn’t any easier to find a needed subject matter, either. Out of the five rows of books only the one was organized, and even then it was organized alphabetically rather than by topic.

  Makayla’s necklace swung free, grey swirling inside. It tugged, beckoning her toward a shelf close to the back of the already filling room. Fingers danced across the grain of the wood, looking for one item to latch on to. A shock knocked her backward; not the type that magic produced, but rather one born from friction. She gulped back the lump forming in her throat, pushing courage into its place.

  Aegis’ Stones. The words popped into her mind for no particular reason. For a book to be following a person, real magic was needed. Trembling hands reached out, as she inched closer, eyes scanning the row of literature touched only by time. One stood out. Whether it was filth or wear and tear, the cover was tarnished beyond recognition.

  Makayla inhaled deeply, blowing dust and grime off the book, strictly for the purpose of reading its title: Portals Are Everywhere. It wasn’t what she expected, but still ominously fitting.