Instrument of Peace (Symphony of the Cursed Book 1)

by Rebecca Hall

  “Now what?” Mitch asked. He didn’t want to leave Belle alone with a barely lucid Nikola but they didn’t have anything to talk about that he wanted Belle overhearing.

  “Pick a book,” Nikola said, gesturing to the pile.

  “I can’t read most of these,” Belle said though that didn’t stop her from looking, she looked back at him.

  “I can read some of them,” Mitch admitted; he was functionally illiterate in a couple of the languages on offer.

  “Good,” Nikola coughed and reached for his glass, “I don’t have the voice for it.” Mitch grabbed a copy of Faust, the only story he could be certain of not completely butchering. Nikola corrected him every other word anyway and there were subtle hints in the story that this version had been written by a magician and that Faust had been one as well.

  “I’d be better off reading in German,” Mitch snapped after the dozenth correction. Nikola couldn’t even see the page, how could he know Mitch was mistranslating it?

  “Can I try?” Belle asked, “we studied German last year.” Mitch passed the book over to her and glared at Nikola. He winced at Belle’s accent but he didn’t correct her pronunciation. Belle only made it a little further than he did before becoming tongue-tied and giving up.

  “How many stories have magical versions?” Mitch asked replacing the book on the pile.

  “Most of them I’d imagine,” Nikola said, “the Fae are entwined with a lot of mythology. Can you close the curtains?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks,” Nikola said as Mitch returned to his seat. With the curtains closed the room was filled with a gloomy half-light that allowed Mitch to find his chair without crashing but precluded any further reading, much to his relief.

  “We can go back to Belle’s room if you want,” Mitch offered.

  “Just talk softly,” Nikola replied, curling up under his blankets.

  “Ummm,” Mitch didn’t know what to talk about with someone who was almost a complete stranger and a twelve year old girl.

  Belle had no such reservations, “Can you really make things teleport?” Nikola teleported a tissue into his hand a second before he sneezed.

  “How big can you go?”

  “No demonstrations,” Mitch said.

  “Depends.” Nikola coughed and then hurled himself over the edge of the bed and retched. He hadn’t been eating a lot Mitch noted as Nikola eased his way back onto the pillows, shivering uncontrollably.

  “I’ll get the doctor,” Hayley said from the door.

  “Hayley,” Belle threw herself at the other girl and the two of them left together. The doctor arrived a couple of minutes later and ushered Mitch out, looking troubled.

  PAPER PLANES

  The world had turned grey. Mitch knew that he was supposed to be paying attention to Dr Henly as he lectured them on the psychological effects of becoming a Teratos but he preferred watching the rain of ash outside. Ruapehu had erupted while he was walking back from the infirmary. It was probably what had made Nikola throw up.

  He forced himself to listen with one ear as Henly droned on but he really didn’t care, it wasn’t as if he was going to become a Teratos, it was impossible to turn a magician, and even if it hadn’t been illegal he had no intention of making any himself. The rest of the class wasn’t paying much attention either, those who had trickled in throughout the first fifteen minutes of the class. Mitch had been the only one to arrive on time.

  Something hit the back of his head, it didn’t hurt but the round of giggles from behind was slightly worrying. He ran a hand through his hair, making sure nothing was stuck there then twisted around and looked down. A paper plane rose from the ground and zoomed off around the room. Its maker had drawn a couple of guns on the wings and tiny filaments of lightning sparked from it to zap another plane. The air above the rest of the class was full of them. Mitch shook his head; Dr Henly was one of their more lenient teachers but even he would object to the aerial warfare his classmates were engaging in.

  There was quite a selection of paper planes battling it out. Some were long and skinny, others short and fat and a few had no aerodynamic properties whatsoever. Most had been decorated with eyes, guns and elaborate colour schemes and Mitch could tell who each plane belonged to by the level of skill used to draw on them. Each of the planes was valiantly trying to claim the sky with lightning, fireballs, and shards of shrapnel. He saw one plane targeted by a fireball phase through another and shot a glance at Bates; that was his magic and the crude vivid markings were definitely his handiwork.

  He dragged his gaze back to the front of the classroom and almost groaned when he saw that they’d only been there for twenty-five minutes. He never thought he’d miss extended research projects. Teratology should have been interesting; they were supposed to be learning about vampires, ghouls, the Sidhe and other sentient races, instead it was even more boring than social studies had been.

  He turned his attention back to the aerial battle. One of the planes was attempting to corkscrew around a flamethrower and get a clear shot at its attacker but the flames expanded rapidly, burning white hot in the centre. The corkscrewing plane miscalculated and flashed into flame, vanishing in an instant. Another plane was tracing out a sigil of some sort but it was torn apart by a viciously clawed plane with a paper clip skeleton. That one had to belong to Sven; no one else specialised in magnetism.

  Mitch considered joining in, but Henly was bound to notice sooner or later and self-manipulation did not lend itself to paper plane fights. A couple more planes joined the fleet, adding hailstones and drops of water to the barrage of missiles. The hailstones punched holes that did nothing to affect the buoyancy of the magically propelled paper planes while the far more effective drops of water reduced them to a pulpy mush.

  “... Ghouls experience the greatest psychological aftereffects. Many suffer significant brain damage before the process...”

  Mitch yawned and checked the clock again, the minute hand appeared to be stuck. Overhead the magical weapons were getting bigger. The flamethrower had definitely amped up the power and was eliminating its enemies one by one. One plane nosedived just before the flamethrower could strike and the burst of flame hit the light bulb instead. The bulb exploded. His classmates ducked and swore, Dr Henly droned on until a piece of hot glass scored across his face, opening a long shallow gash that was dangerously close to his eye.

  The class froze, the planes dropping out of the air or freezing in place, as they waited to see if Dr Henly would finally react to their antics. He stopped talking and raised a hand to his sluggishly bleeding cheek. He studied the blood that stained his fingers and then the rest of the room. The walls were littered with scorch marks, a few of them still smoking and a couple looking bad enough that only fine control had kept the room from catching fire. The floor was littered with soggy mush and burnt-out ruins and there were fragments of paper clips sticking out of almost everything. They were going to be a nightmare to remove.

  Henly removed a handkerchief from a pocket and pressed it to the cut. Mitch stared, who actually carried handkerchiefs these days?

  “I do not believe that your class on practical magic begins for another...” he paused and checked his watch, “... two and a half hours,” he said mildly. “Would someone care to explain to me why you were using magic in a class on Teratology?”

  “Who cares about Teratology?” Sven called from the back of the room. Mitch privately agreed with him but no amount of money would convince him to say as much to Dr Henly’s face. He couldn’t decide if Sven was very brave or very stupid.

  “It’s almost as boring as you are old man,” Sven continued. Idiot, Mitch decided, Sam had lowered her standards since dating him. Definitely idiot he decided as Dr Henly turned scarlet.

  “Well then...” Dr Henly hissed between gritted teeth, “I suppose you already know all about Teratology then?”

  “I know everything I need to know,” Sven said, leaning back and precariously balancing
his chair on two legs, something that their teachers had been telling them not to do since the day they arrived at the Academy.

  “Can you tell me how I’m doing this?” Dr Henly asked. The remains of the paper planes rose into the air, followed by the fragmented paper clips and a small mountain of pencil shavings. Mitch hadn’t realised that those had been used as weapons as well, perhaps they’d been hidden inside the fireballs. Pyromancy was easier when you had something to burn.

  “Magic,” Sven said with a grin, “telekinesis.” Mitch wouldn’t have looked nearly so cocky if it were him. Dr Henly had individually levitated dozens of objects even if he was slowly condensing the magic now that they were in the air and he didn’t have to worry about picking up desks and bags as well.

  “Can you stop it?” Dr Henly asked. The debris of the paper plane fight began to whizz around the room, moving faster and faster until it shot directly at Sven. Sven’s chair overbalanced and he was safe for the fraction of a second it took for the debris to correct course. Sven swore and the desk rose up to shield him from the maelstrom. The paper clips fell harmlessly to the ground but the rest of the debris simply circled the desk.

  “What the fuck are you doing you crazy old- Ow, stop it,” Sven yelled. He ducked and dodged and used the desks’ metal frames to drag them through the air and into the path of the debris. It was the most use some of those desks had seen all period. Dr Henly chased him around the room while their classmates clapped and cheered and dodged aside, a few even tried to trip him. Finally Dr Henly cornered him.

  “You can’t do this,” Sven yelled, his voice slightly muffled. He’d curled into a ball to protect as much of himself as possible. “You’re a teacher, you’re not allowed to hurt students. You’ll never work again. My parents will see to it, they know people.”

  The debris barrage continued and was joined by the few bits of stationery that had actually made it out of people’s bags and then been used to craft paper planes. Mitch seized his own pen and rudimentary notes and shoved them into his bag. He hoped his bag didn’t join the assault.

  Mitch was impressed. As far as he knew Dr Henly wasn’t telekinetic but he was manipulating an impressive array of objects. Given their size it wouldn’t require much power but it did require a lot of skill and he suspected that Dr Henly was pushing his limits. It was probably why he was going for a full frontal assault. He waved a hand through the air carefully so as to avoid attracting Dr Henly’s attention but didn’t find any of the telltale air currents that an aeromancer would use.

  “Alright, alright,” Sven called, “you win, I’ll pay attention from now on.” He raised his head and ducked again when the militant stationery pelted towards his face. “Ow! I’ve learnt my lesson ok,” Sven said, “I’ll behave.”

  The stationery and debris attacked. Sven tried to bat it aside and then used his own magic to stop the pens. They ripped apart instead, the springs and nibs shooting in the opposite direction while the ink and casings blasted towards him with jagged edges where the plastic snapped. Mitch was very glad that this was happening now and not in maths; he didn’t want to think about how much damage a ballistic compass could do.

  The rest of the class watched with wide eyes. A few people were cheering Sven on while others supported Dr Henly. No one tried to interfere, or perhaps they had tried and failed. The teachers had a new reluctance to putting people in detention, it had proved to be ineffective, but they were more than willing to set essays, threaten suspension or send people to Dr Dalman’s office. Dr Dalman would never let Dr Henly get away with this. Even if the curse did incline her to let it slide she would have the school board breathing down her neck and hordes of angry parents to deal with. She would have to fire him and Mitch couldn’t imagine Dr Henly doing anything else, he’d been a teacher here while Mitch’s father was a student.

  Sven’s pleading and protests were replaced by cries of pain, and blood was beginning to seep through his clothes from countless cuts and pinpricks. There was a screech as a desk began to drag itself across the floor. It accelerated rapidly and careened into Dr Henly, bowling him over on its way to the wall. Mitch was certain that that would be enough to make it stop. The desk would break Dr Henly’s concentration. He’d snap out of it and realise how far he had gone and everything would go back to normal.

  It didn’t. Dr Henly continued his murderous assault and Sven’s blood began to pool on the ground. Mitch swallowed queasily and looked away. He had a clear path to the door. He glanced at Dr Henly, confirming that all of his attention was on the cowering Sven. It was. Mitch silently slid out of his chair and slipped towards the door. You can’t see me, he thought, you can’t see me, he put a little magic into the thought. He’d never tried invisibility before; invisibility spells were of questionable legality, but there was no questioning the legality of Dr Henly’s actions. He had crossed the line. Dr Henly didn’t notice him creeping towards the door, either because his invisibility spell was working or because all of Dr Henly’s attention was on keeping the stationery airborne and bloodthirsty.

  Much of it was tipped in red. Mitch swallowed. He would go to the nearest occupied classroom and get the teacher. Dr Henly had clearly lost his mind but another teacher could talk him down and then they could get him the help he needed, far, far away from any students. Everything would be fine, he just had to make it to the door.

  “Are you still going to call your parents Sven?” Dr Henly asked. He hadn’t even tried to get up and his face was twisted in pain. Mitch thought he might have broken something in the fall. Mitch reached the door and grabbed the handle, biting his lip to keep from swearing when his sweaty hand slipped.

  “I can’t hear you!” Dr Henly roared. Mitch dried his hands on his pants and tried again, unable to resist the urge to look back at Sven and Dr Henly. Dr Henly was still sprawled across the floor while Sven huddled in the corner and the assorted stationery slingshotted around the room to slap into him. Mitch thought that it was getting faster, it was certainly getting redder.

  “No,” Sven yelled. It almost sounded like a whimper. There was a harsh scrape as another desk was dragged across the floor. It flipped into the air and slammed into Dr Henly from behind. Mitch heard a loud crack as something broke and then a gentle pitter-patter as everything dropped to the floor. The desk crashed down, its legs tangling with Dr Henly’s limp body. His neck was broken.

  Mitch stared in horror. He wasn’t the only one, the rest of the class alternated between staring at Dr Henly and where Sven was still huddled on the floor, covered in his own blood. Mitch couldn’t help waiting for Dr Henly to get up and reveal that it was all just an elaborate set up, a lesson that he didn’t fully understand. He didn’t. This couldn’t be happening, things like this didn’t happen. The Academy liked to test their limits not push them over the edge. Taniwha and giant weta yes, dead teachers no. It was a trick, it had to be a trick. A perverse show put on due to the influence of the Twisted Curse.

  Dr Henly didn’t stir and reality set in. Mitch gagged and vomited, managing to get most of it into the bin by the door. The spell broke and his classmates started to move. Mitch wasn’t the only one to throw up. A few dissolved into hysterics while some of the more sensible ones checked on Sven and Dr Henly. Mitch wasn’t sure what that would accomplish, live people didn’t have necks that bent at that angle.

  Sven raised his head and saw Dr Henly.

  “No,” he shrieked clawing at his eyes. “No, no, no, no... He can’t... I... I didn’t... I wasn’t... I never... I never...” He pressed himself against the wall, trying to get as far from Dr Henly as possible.

  Mitch remembered what he’d been trying to do and wrenched the door open, running along the corridor and peering into all of the classrooms until he found one that was occupied. He burst through the door, barely noticing Mindy’s glare, and made a beeline for Miss Sindri.

  “You have to come,” he panted, “you... Dr Henly,” Mitch had to swallow to keep from throwing up again. “Dr H
enly is dead, Sven killed him.” This time he couldn’t stop himself being sick.

  #

  Mitch fidgeted nervously on his bed in the infirmary. Most of the class was in here. Sven had been taken away, no doubt to one of the private rooms. Mitch wondered what they’d do to him; he hadn’t meant to kill Dr Henly. Mitch didn’t like just sitting here waiting; he wanted to get up and pace but he’d already been ordered back to bed once, they didn’t want him disturbing his shell-shocked classmates.

  One by one they were poked and prodded, their mental states assessed to see if they could leave. It was taking too long. Mitch bounced up and down on his bed. He wished he had something to do, anything, even homework. He couldn’t get Dr Henly out of his mind. He looked around his tiny curtained-off cubicle but it was the same as hospital beds everywhere. There wasn’t even a pen and paper, though he had both in his bag. He reached for it before remembering that it was still in Dr Henly’s classroom; he hadn’t been allowed back in. The infirmary needed a gift shop he decided, somewhere where they could buy teddy bears, crossword puzzles and overpriced pens. Maybe he’d be able to borrow one of Nikola’s books. He didn’t even care that Nikola never seemed to read anything in English. Not that they’d let him see Nikola; they were quite insistent that he stay in his tiny curtained cell.

  Mitch peeped out through the curtains. A nurse spotted him almost instantly.

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” Mitch lied. She nodded. Mitch held in his sigh of relief and left the ward. He ducked into an unobserved alcove and tried his invisibility spell again; Nikola’s room was in the opposite direction to the bathroom. Nikola was alone, it wasn’t until Mitch saw the empty room that he realised that someone could have been with him. He eased the door open and shut and crept forward on magically muffled feet.

  “You know you could get expelled for that right?” Nikola asked. Mitch jumped.