Frost Prisms (The Broken Prism Book 5)

by V. St. Clair

  Zane shrugged.

  “But you said you only made it out of there because your old man carried you out on his back. So if he stayed behind then you would have been stuck too.” He scowled at the thought. “And anyway, I know I’m a Conjury major, but it’s not like you could use all your crazy, quadruple-inverted, kajillion-alignment spells when you first walked in the door here. I was just harkening back to my first year, and of how proud I was when I mastered the single crosshatch. It’s weird being on this side of things.”

  Hayden rolled his eyes.

  “I didn’t say I wish I was stuck in the schism-world with my father, just that it would make things simpler out here. And a quadruple-inversion would just make things look normal, since you can only invert something once…” he grinned.

  “You know what I mean,” Zane made a face at him.

  “I know. And it does feel strange being mastery students, when I remember not even knowing what the five major arcana were on my first day here.” Hayden grimaced at the memory. “I kept mentally calling Powders ‘piles of sand’ until someone told me what it was actually called.”

  Zane snorted so loudly it sounded painful.

  Hayden was unsurprised by the whispers and stares that trailed in his wake in the following days. In fact, he was so accustomed to it by now that the attention didn’t even bother him. He was more surprised at breakfast one day when the Masters announced that school would be continuing on as normal, with one small adjustment.

  “As you all know, final exams were not scheduled to occur for another three weeks,” Master Willow explained to the assembled students before classes started. “Due to the pressing demands on our time, and the threat of the Dark Prism, we have advanced that timeline significantly. As a result, your exams will begin tomorrow.”

  He stopped speaking against a torrent of protests and exclamations throughout the room, people panicking over the reduced studying time. Hayden just couldn’t believe there were people who cared more about their exam grades than the threat of his father.

  Wait until he starts killing again; I’m sure their priorities will change once that happens.

  He frowned at the dark thought and turned back to his bacon and eggs, offering his leftovers to Bonk, who gulped them down enthusiastically.

  When the room quieted down once more, the Master of Wands continued. “A revised schedule will be handed out in your third-period lessons today. I realize that many of you were counting on the extra time to prepare, but with the situation our land is in right now, we need to end the school year early so that we may better assist the Council of Mages with addressing this new threat. If the danger isn’t neutralized soon, we will likely cancel the next term as well.”

  More muttering broke out at the idea of not being able to return to Mizzenwald. Hayden frowned and ignored the renewed glances in his direction from all of his peers. He supposed he could see the Masters’ logic in not reopening the school; collecting magically-gifted children in one convenient place might just provoke the Dark Prism to attack the school for a fresh supply of victims anytime he was feeling bored. Still, the thought of possibly never returning here was horrible enough on its own.

  He knew he should be focusing in his lessons, as his teachers were now rapidly trying to review exam material with them, but Hayden’s mind kept drifting to darker matters instead.

  I wonder where my father is right now.

  Would he already be back at his childhood home—the place that Hayden had fought to get control of so recently? Was he already beginning to plan his next campaign of terror, or was he still adjusting to the sudden return of his memories and powers? Did he still have his memories from the day he blew up Hayden’s first home, and if so, would he ever circle back to visit Hayden for whatever it was he wanted that day?

  The only class he paid attention to that day was Prisms, and that was only because Master Asher made it impossible to slack off. For one, Hayden was still the only student in the mastery-level class, so it would have been a bit obvious if he was asleep on his feet, but Asher had also decided to stuff his head full of new material rather than reviewing for exams.

  “Focus, Hayden. That’s the second time I’ve had to repeat an alignment for you,” the Prism Master chided, somewhat snappishly.

  “I’m trying, but that’s about the twentieth new complex, compounded alignment you’ve thrown at me in the last hour, and it’s a little hard to absorb so much information so quickly.”

  Asher frowned and said, “There is no time for a casual learning environment, not anymore.”

  Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Hayden mumbled, “Everyone else is just reviewing for exams. I’m getting a year’s worth of prism lessons from you in a single day.”

  “Exams are useless to you and you know it,” Asher snapped with uncharacteristic annoyance. “Do you really think Aleric is going to care if you got question thirteen right on your finals when he’s snuffing the life out of you?”

  Hayden grimaced at the mental image.

  “No, of course not, but I can only absorb information so quickly. Snapping at me for being slow isn’t going to make me any faster.”

  Asher sighed and leaned back in his chair, making a visible effort to unclench his muscles and relax.

  “I know, but time really is of the essence for you. We have no idea where Aleric is or what he is doing, but at some point you’re going to have to go up against him in battle. Ideally, you would have about fifteen of us alongside you, but your father would hardly let himself get caught against such bad odds. I have no idea what spells his Black Prism is capable of, which puts you at an enormous disadvantage; the only thing I can do to try and keep you alive is to cram every alignment that might be even vaguely useful down your throat before you meet him.”

  “That one for trimming toenails seemed a little far-fetched,” Hayden commented with a faint smile. “Though if I survive my encounter with him I’ll never have to search for nail-clippers again.”

  Asher snorted in weary amusement and leaned forward once more, gesturing to the hand-held chalk board that sat on the desk between them, currently marked up with the most recent alignment.

  “Do we need to review Cloning again, or do you have it?”

  Rather than answer, Hayden lowered his eyepiece and looked through his clear prism, holding a violet one in front of him to compound. He located the alignment quickly and cast the spell immediately, wincing and touching his head as it took hold. Compounding mastery-level prisms was difficult enough that it still gave him a headache to do it, though Asher said this would improve with practice.

  An exact copy of himself stepped away from his body and stood there looking bored. It was eerie sitting next to himself—the copy looked very solid.

  “Good, now make it do something more than stand around looking vacant,” Asher prompted without complimenting his achievement.

  Guess we’re past the stage where he tells me what a good job I’m doing.

  “How?” Hayden asked uncertainly. The clone-Hayden mirrored his confused expression.

  Do I really look that stupid when I’m asking a question?

  “The magic is still active for as long as the clone exists—you should feel it slowly pulling through your Foci,” Asher explained. “Seek out the magical connection between your Source and the clone—find it and command it.”

  Hayden almost made a sarcastic comment about how much he loved vague instructions, but didn’t think it would be well received just now. Instead he closed his eyes and tried to look inside himself, feeling out the threads of magic that were open between his mind and the prisms. It wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be, and soon he discovered the link to the clone; it felt almost like holding the strings of a puppet.

  Tap Asher on the shoulder, he commanded mentally, opening his eyes.

  The clone obeyed, though he jabbed the Prism Master a little harder than Hayden had intended—or maybe he was subliminally taking out his frustration on his ment
or. Asher looked mildly amused, though he massaged the spot on his shoulder with one hand.

  Let’s up the stakes.

  Hayden mentally commanded the clone to use one of its prisms. The clone obeyed, drawing its clear prism rapidly and casting at Asher, who tensed but made no move to draw his own weapon. It was immediately apparent why, as the spell went straight through him with no visible effect.

  “Clever, but impossible.” Asher gave him an approving nod. “The clone is nothing more than a shadow of magic—solid as it may appear. Nothing about it—including its weapons—are real, so its magic is useless.”

  “It was worth a try,” Hayden shrugged.

  “I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t thought of it,” his mentor confirmed.

  After a thoughtful pause, Hayden asked, “Would it work if I handed it one of my actual prisms?”

  Asher tilted his head and considered the question seriously for a moment before answering.

  “It shouldn’t. Copies have no magic of their own, they are simply a reflection of your own power. But still, best to be sure. Go ahead and try it.”

  Hayden handed the copy of himself what was left of his clear prism and had it cast Light, mostly because it was the most innocuous array he could think of off the top of his head—in case the magic actually worked.

  But no, Asher had been correct. Even through a real instrument, the clone’s magic was worthless.

  “Too bad,” Hayden frowned, reclaiming his prism and dismissing the clone. It vanished from existence between one blink and the next. “It would have been nice to make a few clones of myself, arm them to the teeth, and send them to fight my father on my behalf.”

  “Indeed,” Asher exhaled heavily. “Still, you would have to be controlling all of them independently and at the same time, or most of them would just stand around uselessly, so it’s not terribly practical at any rate.”

  “Guess not.”

  “Even being able to conjure one copy of yourself—or anything else—can be quite handy though, especially when trying to confuse the enemy,” Asher put in bracingly. “It might buy the real you time to escape, if nothing else.”

  “That’s true,” Hayden allowed, frowning as the Prism Master wiped the chalkboard clean and began sketching a new alignment in different colors of chalk.

  “Okay, onto the next one…”

  By the time Hayden was freed from the Prism Master’s clutches—the man insisted that things like ‘eating dinner’ were minutia that could be ignored for the sake of higher learning—it was nearly curfew. His roommates were still awake, studying for their finals tomorrow, but though Hayden hadn’t even begun preparing for his exams, he was too tired to care.

  “Did you just get free from Master Asher?” Zane asked in alarm, while Hayden threw himself heavily on top of his sheets, fully-clothed and covered in chalk dust.

  “Yes. I think he just taught me every alignment in the known universe, though he swears there are thousands more out there. My brain might explode soon.”

  “Did you learn anything useful?” Conner set aside the stack of notes he’d been rereading with a tired yawn.

  “Oh sure, plenty of it was useful. I just hope I can remember it all come tomorrow; we went through it way faster than I’m used to. He’s also started teaching me how to translocate myself with prisms.”

  “Really?” his roommates exclaimed in unison. “Nice! Is it hard?”

  Hayden rubbed his eyes and kicked off his shoes, letting them fall heavily to the floor.

  “It’s awful,” he groaned. “The Masters make it look easy, but that’s only because their Mastery Charms take most of the magical load for them. Trying to translocate without one involves a lot of different alignments being cast in the exact right order—without too much time between them—or you just end up sending one of your legs to a stinking bog.”

  “Speaking from personal experience?” Tamon asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Can you not smell the stink on my sodden left pant leg?” Hayden grumbled.

  “I just assumed you were trying a new cologne,” Zane laughed. “I was going to advise against it before you met up with Tess again, or she might leave you for someone with basic olfactory senses.”

  Hayden rolled his eyes, though from his position on the top bunk none of his roommates could see it.

  “I was at it for almost an hour and I didn’t successfully send myself anywhere even once—even with the wards around Mizzenwald that are supposed to make it easier. The closest I got was ripping my leg off, and after I stopped screaming long enough to see that I wasn’t bleeding to death, Asher went to get it for me.”

  “Well, translocations are super-advanced magic,” Conner pointed out fairly. “I’d be surprised if you mastered it in an hour, even as powerful as you are.”

  “Yeah, you’re being too hard on yourself,” Tamon added. “It just takes time.”

  “Time is the one thing I don’t have, according to all of my teachers. They keep looking at me like they expect me to drop dead at any moment, even while they’re giving me all this bolstering advice.”

  No one really knew what to say to that closing line, and an awkward silence filled the room. Hayden didn’t mind because he was asleep within minutes; not even his smelly pant leg could keep him awake.

  By some miracle, he was able to focus on his first two exams well enough to do himself justice, even with the constant threat of his evil father materializing into the classroom and killing him looming over his head. After two hours of disgorging every scrap of knowledge he had ever learned about Healing, he was more than ready for a lunch break.

  Zane was complaining loudly about his Conjury exam when Hayden took his seat at their usual table.

  “—can’t believe I misread that crosshatch on question twelve! I thought it was an ink smear—I tried explaining to Reede afterwards, as soon as I’d realized my mistake, but he just laughed and told me to go to lunch.”

  “I doubt you’re going to fail Conjury just because of one mistaken crosshatch,” Conner said with a raised eyebrow at this gross overreaction.

  “I know I’m not going to fail the class—but it could be the difference between qualifying for the mastery level and having to repeat the level-five. I’m still hoping to get one of his apprentice positions too, which means I have to beat out about twenty other people, and every mistake counts against me!” Zane snapped, looking slightly unhinged. Hayden made a mental note of how his friend looked when he was feeling particularly off-kilter, for future reference.

  “Research isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Hayden offered in consolation. “Sure, it’ll be cool to actually discover something, but Asher and I have spent all year on one project and it still isn’t done. Mostly I just spend hours every day banging my head against the wall, in between doing whatever menial chores Asher is too important to do himself.”

  “You said the two of you were close to a breakthrough on your project though,” Tess pointed out mildly, watching idly as Bonk snuck a cherry off of her plate and devoured it in one bite—stem and all.

  “Well, that’s true…” Hayden allowed, before adding, “I doubt we’re going to get the chance to finish it up anytime soon though, what with current events.”

  Tess frowned thoughtfully and opened her mouth to say something consoling, when the doors of the dining hall opened rather abruptly and loudly, startling everyone.

  Hayden felt his stomach lurch at the sight of the three Council members who had just entered the dining hall, wearing the gold-and-black uniforms that signaled they were on official business. Hayden was only mildly relieved when he saw that Calahan wasn’t among them.

  Most of the Masters didn’t look surprised by the sudden visit, and Hayden looked around wildly for some sign of what he was supposed to do, but for some reason no one would meet his eye—not even Asher, who was on the opposite side of the room, eating with a group of third-years. The three Council members were rapidly scanning the
room, obviously searching for something. Their goal became apparent when one of them spotted Hayden and nudged his colleagues.

  “Hayden Frost,” the man called out to him from the threshold as the three of them moved closer. Hayden stood up without knowing what exactly he intended to do. “I have a warrant for your detainment, co-signed by the Chief Mage and the High Mayor. You are to come with us immediately to the Crystal Tower, where you will be formally charged in the case of the Dark Prisms’s reappearance.”

  Most of the room fell silent when the Councilman started speaking, and still none of the Masters would meet Hayden’s eye. Bonk had taken flight sometime in the last minute and was hovering in front of Hayden, flapping his wings gently to keep himself aloft. At first Hayden thought that his familiar was trying to act as a shield for him, but then—for the second time in his life—he heard Master Asher’s voice magically amplified inside of his head.

  Tell them to take a hike and grab hold of Bonk!

  The Prism Master still wasn’t looking at him, but Hayden could see the man glancing through a mastery-level blue prism almost lazily, compounding it with a violet one that he was holding in front of him on the pretext of examining it for dust.

  There wasn’t time to question Asher’s instructions; the Councilmen were closing in on him fast.

  Drawing himself up to full height, Hayden called out, “I have better things to do than play Calahan’s stupid games. If he decides to get his head out of his butt and start hunting my father, then we’ll talk.” Then, not knowing what it would accomplish, he grabbed hold of Bonk.

  Between one blink and the next, Hayden found himself in the formal dining hall of the Trout estate. Magdalene Trout and Master Kilgore, of all people, were there to greet him. Oliver’s familiar, Slasher, was perched on the floor nearby, standing inside of a small conjury circle that had been drawn in chalk right on the plush carpet.