Frost Prisms (The Broken Prism Book 5)

by V. St. Clair

  “Powerful enough to get through your barriers?” Hayden solicited mildly, heart hammering with fear and hope.

  “Yes.”

  Hayden tried not to let the relief show on his face.

  They’ve found a way through and they’re coming to rescue me! Together we’ll take down my father while he’s still comparatively weak and this nightmare will all be over with.

  But then Hayden saw the small figure that soared over the gates and through a ripple of magic as though it wasn’t even there, approaching the window at speed, and he understood.

  Bonk perched on the window ledge and looked at Hayden’s bleeding hand as though to say, What am I going to do with you?

  14

  Masters and Companions

  Hayden had never been happier to see Bonk in his entire life. His familiar looked him over as though checking for signs of damage, before perching on Hayden’s shoulder. The weight of the dragonling was a welcome relief; he hadn’t realized just how badly he’d missed his familiar until they were parted at the Trout estate. He also noticed a scrap of paper tied to the dragonling’s leg, but for the moment he left it alone.

  The Dark Prism was watching the scene with a mildly interested look on his face. Hayden didn’t think the man was faking surprise when he said, “Bonk?” as though greeting an old colleague. Then, looking at Hayden, he added, “Bonk is your familiar?”

  Not seeing what the big deal was, Hayden said, “Yeah, why?”

  His father and Bonk seemed to be in some sort of battle of wills, each staring the other down and refusing to blink or look away. Hayden knew that Bonk had been at Mizzenwald for fifty years before choosing to become his familiar, and that that meant he knew Hayden’s father on some level from his old school days, but that was also true of nearly every student to pass through Mizzenwald in the last fifty years as far as Hayden knew.

  It was Aleric who finally broke the silence and said, “All that time, and you were waiting for him?”

  He seemed to be speaking to the dragon, not Hayden, and by the slight emphasis he placed on the word ‘him’, Hayden finally understood that his father was jealous.

  My father wanted Bonk to be his familiar?

  He had no idea why the Dark Prism would have been after such an oddball dragonling, even before he corrupted himself. Cinder was the very definition of a proper dragon: regal, haughty, a slick killer, mighty hunter, and generally not a creature to be trifled with. Bonk was pretty much the opposite of all of those things except in very rare circumstances, in which case he could drum up some dragonish pride. Even his name was dumb.

  Then it hit him. Bonk is powerful. How many people have said he’s the me of dragons—that he’s extremely powerful for no apparent reason.

  Of course his father would have learned about that while at school, and since he’d already proven that power was his weakness, naturally he would want such a creature to become his ally.

  The Dark Prism is actually jealous of me.

  That probably didn’t bode well for him, but since Hayden already knew that his father was planning to kill him in the most painful way possible, the thought didn’t frighten him nearly as much as it might normally. What was his father going to do, kill him twice?

  Bonk turned away from Aleric—a feat few humans could survive—and looked instead at Cinder, who returned his gaze steadily. Hayden felt uncomfortable on their behalf, knowing that they were now enemies by virtue of their alliances. If either dragon felt awkward, they didn’t show it, though the only emotion Cinder usually showed was contempt, and Bonk was being unusually stern right now.

  “Where has he been all this time?” Hayden’s father drew his attention once more. “He was not with you in the Crystal Tower.”

  “He was out hunting when I got nabbed from where I was staying,” Hayden explained.

  “And he did not follow on to assist you during your captivity?” his father asked with some surprise. Hayden couldn’t entirely blame him, as he had—more than once—had the same thought.

  “He must not have thought I was in any real danger, or that him being there would only make things worse,” Hayden defended his familiar out of habit, and because he didn’t need to annoy his one ally at a time like this. “Familiars always serve the best interest of their companion.”

  The look his father bestowed upon him was laced with derision. “You don’t think of yourself as his master?”

  “I think of us as partners. Only a fool would forget that his familiar is more powerful than him.”

  His father tilted his head in acknowledgment of this without conceding the point.

  “Then as your partner, he has a choice to make.” It didn’t escape Hayden’s notice that his father was now looking at Bonk through the Black Prism. He had no idea what would happen if his father attacked, or whether Bonk was more powerful than the Black Prism.

  “Oh?” Hayden asked mildly, shifting his body weight so that he would be in a position to tackle his father if he needed to buy Bonk time. The movement didn’t escape Cinder’s notice, and his father’s dragonling fixed his eyes on Hayden and tensed.

  “I have no personal objection to him keeping you company—creatures of power will always be honored guests of the Frost estate—but neither can I have him coming and going, running letters to my enemies.” He gestured to the scrap of paper still tied to Bonk’s leg, calling attention to it for the first time since Bonk’s arrival. “Nor do I underestimate the power your familiar commands; as you said, only a fool would be so blind.”

  And sadly, you are no fool, Father.

  “What are you saying?” Hayden felt his muscles go taut, preparing to pounce. The moment seemed very close now; he could see his father’s prism-eye idly scanning for alignments while he spoke.

  “He can leave now and resolve to stay away, or he can accept Binders and be deprived of all magical power.” He looked almost uneasy as he said, “An embarrassment, I realize, for such a distinguished creature, but the alternative is even less unpleasant for all parties involved.”

  Hayden could see the alternative clearly enough. My father and Cinder against me and Bonk. Normally that might be even odds, but I’m completely unarmed. I’d be battling the Dark Prism with my fists and whatever blunt objects I can grab onto before he slays me.

  But the choice wasn’t Hayden’s, it was Bonk’s, and if his familiar decided that he would rather fight than suffer the indignity of being cut off from his magic, then Hayden would do his best to occupy his father long enough for Bonk to bring down Cinder.

  All three of them seemed to wait with bated breath until Bonk stuck out one leg in surrender. Hayden exhaled heavily, feeling a little lightheaded and unsure of how long he was actually holding his breath. His father and Cinder both relaxed marginally.

  The Dark Prism turned his back on them and crossed to the other side of the library, stopping at the end of a seemingly random bookshelf and drawing a knife from a sheath at his waist. He nicked his thumb and smeared the drop of blood against the grain of the wood, and Hayden heard the sound of a latch release as a square panel opened up. The wood of the bookshelf didn’t seem thick enough to contain anything—it was less than an inch thick—but the compartment his father reached into seemed much deeper so he assumed it was magically-enhanced.

  His father withdrew a set of Binders that were large enough to fit on Hayden’s wrists and shut the compartment. As the panel swung shut, Hayden noticed that the blood on the outside of it was gone.

  I’ll bet you haven’t realized that I can access all your little hidey-holes too, Hayden thought with grim satisfaction. By all means, keep showing me your secrets.

  The Binders were much too large for Bonk’s legs—nearly large enough to circle his chest—but his father approached anyway and Hayden watched silently. The Dark Prism detached the scrap of paper from Bonk’s leg and set it aside without looking at it, before fastening one of the ridiculously-oversized Binders around each of Bonk’s legs.

>   As soon as the second one was closed, the lead contracted until the miniature cuffs fit snugly just above Bonk’s feet.

  I’m an idiot, Hayden shook himself out of his stupor. Why did I let Bonk sacrifice his magic just to stay with me? Now we’re both useless and we’ll never be able to fight!

  Well, Bonk still had his poison glands, but Cinder could cure the effects so it seemed like a useless tactic to employ.

  Still, Hayden couldn’t bring himself to be upset with his familiar. He was ashamed by his cowardice, but mostly he was just glad to have company during his final days of life. He didn’t want to spend his remaining time alone and friendless in his father’s house.

  Finally, his father picked up the scrap of paper, unfolded it, and briefly scanned the words on it. Hayden had no idea who it was from or what it said, and his father’s face gave no clue beyond a slight compression of the lips.

  “What does it say?” Hayden asked when he thought his father was finished reading, wondering if the man would tell him.

  In response, the Dark Prism tossed the scrap carelessly at him and turned back to his worktable, apparently finished with him for the evening. Curious, Hayden looked down at the note, written in the instantly-recognizable handwriting of Master Asher.

  Let Hayden go, or I’ll bring the fight to you. This time I will win.

  Hayden clenched the piece of paper in his fist, crumpling it in his hand. The last thing he wanted was for any of his friends or allies to die trying to save him, especially now that he knew that he wasn’t just here for his father’s amusement. The Dark Prism would never let him walk out of here alive; even if Hayden escaped, his father would hunt him down to the ends of the earth, because he was bound and determined to recover his Source.

  “Are you going to write back and tell him ‘no?’ ” Hayden asked hopefully. Maybe if his father explained why he wouldn’t let him go, Asher would see the futility in trying to rescue him and would do the sensible thing.

  Right, Hayden almost snorted in amusement, because Asher always does the sensible thing.

  “He knows I will not,” his father replied without turning around. “Leave me.”

  Deciding not to push his luck, Hayden backed out of the library, mostly because he didn’t like the idea of turning his back on a man who intended to kill him, even if he didn’t expect it to happen for some days or weeks—possibly months, if he got really lucky.

  Bonk remained on his shoulder, looking around the house without interest as Hayden returned to the room he had claimed for himself, shutting and locking the door behind him. He knew that a locked door wasn’t going to stop his father from getting in if he decided to do so, but it still made him feel more secure.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said to Bonk, “even if it was dumb to give up your magic just so you can sit around and wait for me to die.” He began changing into some borrowed pajamas, climbing into bed and propping a few pillows beneath his head so he was semi-reclined.

  Bonk hopped onto the other side of the bed and examined his Binders with obvious distaste.

  “I guess I should tell you about my father’s plan for me…and why he tried to kill me when I was ten. I’ve learned a lot since I came here, which is about the only good thing that can be said about this whole ordeal.”

  Bonk listened patiently as Hayden relayed everything that had happened since encountering his father at the Crystal Tower. It was nice to have someone to share it all with, even if Bonk couldn’t really answer back or ask any follow-up questions. On the other hand, he couldn’t be entirely sorry that none of his friends were here to talk to. At least he had managed to keep them out of this—especially Tess.

  Despite his inability to speak, Bonk let his sentiments be known, looking angry or pacing from one end of the bed to the other whenever Hayden described his various near-death encounters with his father over the last couple days.

  “Even Hattie and the others are counting on me to finish off my father so that they can go home free—assuming I can find a way past the barriers around this place once he’s gone,” Hayden frowned as a new thought struck him. “Hang on—what happens to a person’s spells when they die? Will his defenses still be active around the house or will they end too?”

  Bonk didn’t answer, not that he really expected his familiar to have the answer. He couldn’t believe that in four years of magical education he had never thought to ask the question, but he hadn’t really planned on encountering this sort of thing until now.

  I’m getting ahead of myself.

  “Of course, none of this will matter unless I can overcome the minor problem of defeating the most powerful prism-user in the Nine Lands with nothing but my wit.” Hayden sighed. “At least if I had a decent prism I’d stand a chance—not a good one, mind you, but it would be better than trying to smother the man in his sleep with a pillow.”

  Now it was Hayden’s turn to get out of bed and pace the room, burning off his pent-up energy, though he knew that as soon as he stopped moving he would probably collapse; exhaustion was hovering just behind the manic energy that was keeping him animated.

  “Because I will die fighting, even if the only thing I can do is take my own life before he can pull my Source out of me,” Hayden continued, fueled with the conviction of someone who knew that his death was inevitable and necessary. “I won’t sit there like a scared little boy while he reclaims the rest of his power and all of mine. If my Foci weren’t damaged beyond imagination, I would be terrifyingly powerful as is. I can’t imagine what kind of horror the Dark Prism would be capable of with all of that power added to his own—and without warped Foci.”

  Bonk gave a little shudder to echo the sentiment.

  “Then again, maybe trying to absorb someone else’s power—or so much power—is unnatural, and would warp his Foci no matter what. Surely no human is capable of channeling that much power uninhibited.”

  Though my father says my Foci were only warped because of whatever inverse alignment I pulled out of the Black Prism when I was on the brink of death…

  “Heck, getting my Foci nearly destroyed was probably the luckiest thing that ever happened to me,” Hayden mused thoughtfully, finally seeing the event in a new light. “I never would have been allowed to learn magic if I had that much power at my command at the age of ten, so I’d probably still be in Binders in the orphanage right now. And if my father caught up to me there somehow, it would be that much easier for him to pull the Source back out of me. At least this time he had to waste time figuring out how to correct warped Foci first, giving time for the others to prepare for fighting him.”

  If I can just get a message out to the others somehow, I could tell them that he’s at a disadvantage this time. Sure, he’s still miserably powerful and skillful with and without his Black Prism, but he has much less Source power than last time. He’ll wear down easier, have less kick behind his attacks…

  It would be easy to write a note and send it off with Bonk, except that his familiar had lost the ability to cross the defensive barriers because he knew Hayden was lonely and wanted company. He wanted to kick himself all over again for letting Bonk hinder himself in such a way.

  “But I guess things would have been worse if you had stayed but refused the Binders,” he conceded with a sigh. “He was about half a second from attacking you with the Black Prism, and I have no idea whether you’re strong enough to take him on with him using that thing or not. Even if you are, there’s no way you could have fought off him and Cinder at the same time, though I was prepared to launch myself into harm’s way if you were determined to try.”

  Hayden sat back down on the side of the bed, and Bonk waddled over to him and head-bumped his arm as a show of solidarity. Hayden smiled and patted his familiar on the head.

  “I’ll write a letter tomorrow anyway, just in case there’s ever an opportunity to get word out; I’d actually kick myself if I missed out on a chance to report on what I’ve learned since coming here.”
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br />   Frowning, he added, “What do you think the others are doing right now? Do you think they know about the slaughter at the Council yet?” he rubbed his eyes and answered his own question. “They must, it’s been at least a day, and they hadn’t finished my trial yet. The Masters would show up to a place full of dead bodies and known something was horribly wrong.” He scowled and added, “I hope none of them were there when my father came to get me. I know he got Cal, but maybe Mrs. Trout and the others managed to escape…”

  The alternative was too depressing to contemplate right now.

  “They must have searched the place thoroughly and saw that I was missing, and from there it probably didn’t take long to guess where I ended up. Now they know where to attack, though that doesn’t help with the problem of getting through the defensive perimeter. It might help if I knew what some of the defenses actually were, then I could tell them in this fictitious letting I pretend I’ll be able to send.”

  Bonk became a distraction at this point when he began making coughing, retching noises, as though he was a cat who was about to hock up a huge hairball.

  “What did you eat this time?” Hayden frowned down at his familiar. “Don’t tell me you swallowed another monstrously-fat squirrel without chewing before you came here…you should remember what happened last time.”

  Bonk paid him no mind, but continued making the retching noises, leaning right over Hayden’s lap.

  “Seriously, Bonk? This entire room is at your disposal—there’s a trash can right over there, in fact—and you’re going to hurl in my lap?” Hayden asked in disbelief, making no effort to move. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten dragon-vomit all over him. “What did I do to offend you this time?”

  Bonk gave no answer, his entire body heaving with the effort of coughing up whatever was stuck in his stomach. Hayden sighed and patted him on the back soothingly, formulating the apology he would have to give the housekeeping staff—slaves—around here when he asked them to wash his puke-covered sleep pants.