Conrad Edison and the Anchored World (Overworld Arcanum Book 2)

by John Corwin

  Rhys and Devon angled right at me. I juked low then pulled up hard and shot right over them. Devon's shoulder caught me. I spun with the blow and Velma sped past, her shoulder narrowly missing. Still spinning, I held the striker under my hand like a discus. The tower came into range.

  Now! Della cried out with joy.

  I released the disc. It whirred straight and true, striking the tower. The rock grumbled and a long crack ran up the surface. Since I still couldn't stop my broom, I flew in a wide circle, anticipating a rebound from the disc. Instead, it stopped and hovered in place.

  "Are you serious?" Devon shouted, face aghast.

  Rhys glared at me with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. "This can't be real."

  Velma motioned me to the side of the arena. "Get out of the way, Edison."

  "You're done," Elliott said in a stern voice.

  "Can't stop my broom," I shouted. "Someone hexed it."

  "Then go fly in circles out of the way," Elliott said. "Go, now!"

  I stopped circling and aimed for the sidelines, all the while prying at the thing stuck to my broomstick. I was flying too fast to simply jump off. I suddenly remembered a spell handy for such circumstances, and took out my wand. Flicking the wand up, down, and then directly at the object, I said, "Disruptus."

  A small piece of metal the size of a coin dropped from my broomstick, and suddenly I was once again fully in control. Sagging with relief, I slowed down, circled back, and picked up the medallion. It would be my proof when I saw the other boy again.

  A cheer went up from the Moore Keep crowd when I reached the sideline. Ambria raced over and hugged me.

  "That was brilliant, Conrad!" She gave me a wondering look. "I can't believe you stayed on your broom. You were going so fast!"

  Esma Emoora walked over, her pearly whites flashing in the sun. "Impressive, young man. You make me"—she broke off in midsentence and paused a second—"wonder how you managed such a thing."

  "Yes, yes, impressive indeed," Galfandor said, from a few feet away. "I must say it was rather risky flying so fast."

  "I couldn't help it." I held up the medallion. "Some other kid sabotaged my broom. I could steer, but I couldn't slow down."

  "Troubling." The headmaster took the object and turned it over in his hands. "Percival also told me about the incident in the hallway."

  "I think the boy who hexed my broom was one of them." I looked back toward the gauntlet as Harris Ashmore emerged from the tunnel of shooting rods and went wide-eyed at the new task before him. Harris got to the striker and threw it, but missed wide when Elliott shouldered him from the side.

  "Let us know if you see the culprit," Esma said. "We should put an end to this bullying straightaway, wouldn't you say, Galfandor?"

  The headmaster nodded, his bright eyes looking at the group of washouts gathering on the sideline some distance away. "Let's go see if your ruffian is in this bunch, Conrad."

  We hadn't walked two feet, when I saw the boy in question standing next to some other boys. He glared at me with open hatred, then hopped on his broom and tried to make his escape.

  Galfandor's wand swept through the air, and the broom jerked from beneath the boy who plowed face-first into the ground. "Timothy Simmons, you and I need to have a talk." The headmaster patted my shoulder. "I will take care of this, young man. Congratulations on your spectacular run." He strolled to the boy and handed hi.m over to two Arcanes in blue security robes.

  "Only one other person ever did what you managed today," Esma said in a low voice.

  I flinched and turned around to see her and Ambria standing behind me. "What did I do?"

  Esma laughed. "You made it through the course in one try, and in record time, young Edison. The only other person ever to do so was none other than your mother."

  Chapter 31

  For some reason, I wasn't the least bit surprised. Della burst into maniacal laughter in my head, obviously pleased.

  Perhaps you are not a lost cause after all, she said.

  Vic did not chime his agreement.

  Within the hour, everyone who successfully completed the course lined up on the sidelines. Graeven had only four successful candidates. Just enough, Max informed me, to fill their roster. Harris, Baxter, and five other boys from Tiberius Keep made it through, while six candidates, myself and Max included, stood for Moore Keep.

  Elliott Cobain walked up to our group and gave me a long hard look. "Looks like you got some of your mother's flying talents."

  "But he's an Edison," Gregory, who had also made it, said angrily.

  "Is his name Victus?" Elliott asked.

  Gregory frowned. "No."

  "Is it Delectra?"

  "No, but—"

  "Then stop your whining." Elliott glared at the boy. "You barely made the cut. I could kick you off the team and not lose a moment's sleep." He put a fist on my shoulder. "Conrad here proved he's the best flier I've seen since I was a kid and watched videos of his mum. Unless he starts killing everyone, he's on the team."

  I felt my mouth drop open at this declaration of acceptance from the team captain. Someone else wants me around? I'd have to be careful, or I might start to feel happy.

  The next day in classes, I overheard other students talking about Conrad Edison, the boy who'd broken his mother's obstacle course record. From the rumors swirling, some couldn't decide if that was good or bad. Unfortunately, the one thing I hadn't counted on was the after-school kabash practice for two hours each day.

  Before supper, I reported to the practice field behind Moore Keep. It was only a half-sized field, but equipped with three practice buildings. Elliott ran us through blocking and relaying exercises with the striker, even going so far as to give us each a disc to sleep with at night.

  "I want you to hold onto this striker until it feels like a part of your body," he ordered. "A good kabash player's reflexes will tell him exactly what to do before he even knows what to do."

  After kabash practice, I ate a quick supper and met with Esma Emoora.

  "My father took me to all the professional kabash games," she told me, as I practiced parrano, the spell she'd used to deflect my torsious spell on the first night. Esma sighed. "Those were the best days of my life."

  "Is your father dead?" She looked far too young for her parents to have passed on.

  Her eyes went distant, and time seemed to slip away from her as she relived something from the past. Esma shuddered and threw out her hands as if trying to stop something. She flinched and blinked as if waking from a nightmare. "I'm sorry, Conrad. What did you say?"

  "Nothing," I replied, thinking it best I not ask if she was okay. Whatever happened to her father was none of my business.

  The next day in the hall, Asha Fellini stopped me. "I am impressed with what I heard about you, young Edison."

  I looked into that hauntingly familiar face and held back a shiver of fright. "Thank you." I so desperately wanted to ask if she was really Delectra, and if she intended to kill me at a convenient moment. My logical side argued she would have already done so. Then again, perhaps my mother liked to toy with her prey first.

  "Is something wrong?" She placed a hand on my shoulder. "You seem troubled."

  "I'm, um, late for class, Professor." I edged away. "Thank you for the compliment."

  As the end of the week grew nearer, I became more and more excited. Our first game was on Saturday.

  Friday, just after classes, Evadora sneaked up behind me in an empty hallway and nearly frightened me half to death. I jumped and spun around, nearly tripping over my own feet, visions of the punks who'd beaten me in the hallway, still fresh in my mind.

  She giggled.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and then realized this wasn't our normal day to meet. "Did something happen with Serena?"

  She nodded. "Serena told me she has to go away for a while to gather important supplies for her divining rod."

  That piqued my curiosity. "What sort of supplies?"


  "She said the wood she has is unsuitable." Evadora mimicked Serena's voice almost perfectly.

  "How long will she be gone?"

  "Weeks or maybe a month." Once again, she mimicked Serena's voice. "What I need is extremely rare. You've waited all this time, surely you can wait another month or so."

  "She was telling that to my parents?" I asked.

  A lock of brown hair slowly shaded strawberry blonde as Evadora twirled it in her fingers. "Yes, and they were unhappy."

  My senses perked. "Did you find out where they've been hiding?"

  Evadora puffed out her cheeks. "No. They are sneaky people, Conrad."

  "What did they say to Serena?"

  "What sort of wood is so special?" she said in a voice eerily similar to my father's. "You're making excuses!" This time, she sounded like Delectra.

  "Can you just say it in your voice?" I asked. "I don't like hearing their voices."

  Evadora tilted her head and shrugged. "Your mother spoke of you, Conrad."

  My heart beat a little faster. "What did she say?"

  "She was impressed with your kabash tryout and wonders how you'll do in your first game. She sounded proud." A sad frown preceded her next sentence. "Then your father said they should just kill you and be done with it, that kabash was a foolish waste of time."

  My emotions didn't know which way to go—up or down. "I wonder why they haven't done it yet."

  "Delectra said they can't kill you because it would draw too much attention. They have to wait on Serena to finish her work." Evadora turned her frown upside down. "This is a good thing, I think."

  It didn't feel that great to know my father was eager to end my life, and I didn't know what to think about what my mother said.

  Evadora gripped my hand. "Be brave, Conrad. I will tell you if anything changes."

  I returned the squeeze. "You've changed since we first met. It's like you're growing up really fast."

  She sighed. "I know. I do not like this growing up. Sometimes I would like to run back into the wild and play, but now I have friends." Her shoulders slumped. "It is a great responsibility."

  I chuckled. "Tell me about it."

  That evening after practice, Elliott lined us up to announce assignments. Yuri Evans bumped hard into me on his way to line up with the veteran players, and gave me a venomous look in passing.

  "What's up with him?" Max asked.

  I'd never spoken with the boy, and wondered if negative feelings about my parentage were poisoning the goodwill I'd earned from the kabash tryout.

  "Starting lineup tomorrow," Elliott said, "Defenders are Yuri, Phillip, and Julie. Peter and Ryan, you're our freezers."

  Ryan, a new player like us, blew out a sigh of relief. Yuri's jaw tightened and his eyes smoldered.

  Elliott folded his arms and gave a sideways look at the pouting Yuri. "Starting carries are Jenna, me, and"—he paused for a split second—"Conrad."

  All the other newbies looked at me with envy and disbelief. Max pounded my back and whooped. "A starting carry, Conrad! That's amazing!"

  Yuri bared his teeth. "You'd better do well, Edison. I was going to go carry this year."

  "You're one of the best defenders I've seen," Elliott told Yuri. "You could go pro if you want. Anyway, you'll defend unless I need an emergency carry to step in."

  Julie rolled her eyes at Yuri. "Everybody wants to be a carry."

  "Because they get all the glory," Gregory said, looking at me enviously.

  Elliott handed out the second string positions, listing Max as a freezer and Gregory as a defender.

  Looking at the anger on Yuri's face, and thinking about the responsibilities of a carry, I wasn't sure if I should be happy or not.

  Elliott took me to the side after he dismissed the others. "You look a little frightened."

  I took a breath to quell my rapidly beating heart. "I wasn't expecting a starting position."

  "Look, you're a great flier, and you've got an eye for angles. The only thing lacking is strength." He squeezed my small bicep and grunted. "Throw the disc as hard as you can." He held out the striker and let it go. It hovered in place, spinning with a quiet whirring noise.

  I held it overhanded like a discus, but Elliott quickly corrected me. "No, flick it or backhand it."

  I pinched the edge with thumb and forefinger and flicked it across the field in a sidearm fashion as hard as I could. The disc traveled fifteen yards before slowing, and drifted to a halt about thirty yards away. "I'm sorry my arm isn't strong. I can work out."

  Elliott nodded. "You'll need to." He whistled and the practice kabash zipped back to him. "Try throwing it backhanded."

  Gripping the edge in my hand, I crossed my arm over my body then swung it out as hard as I could. The striker flew slightly further. "Are you sure I should start as carry?"

  "We just need to make sure we're close to the towers if you're striking." He retrieved the disc again and flicked sideways it. It whirled more than fifty yards before coming to a stop between the tower and the keep targets. "Go relax, Conrad. You're gonna need all your strength against Tiberius Keep tomorrow."

  I met Max and Ambria inside the keep and we went to dinner. I felt the weight of stares on me as we found an empty table and waited for a golem to serve us. I'd grown used to people looking at me, the offspring of evil, but this time it felt different. I spotted Harris and Baxter looking our way and talking with Rhys and Devon. Max's brothers wore their customary smirks, and even winked at me when they saw me looking.

  I dreaded playing them tomorrow.

  "My brothers are sneaky kabash players," Max said.

  Ambria sniffed. "Not to mention unpleasant."

  "That, too." He shrugged. "Anyway, you'll need to be careful against them, Conrad. They're always coming up with weird plays to throw off the other team, and if they get a chance to hurt you, believe me, they will."

  I was still new to the sport, so it was hard for me to imagine anything outside of what I'd learned. The food finally arrived and I was so hungry, I dug in and temporarily forgot my worries.

  "That little boy is a carry, brother?"

  I looked up and saw Rhys, Devon, Harris, and Baxter standing next to our table.

  Devon looked at Rhys and sighed. "It's desperation, pure and simple."

  "Leave us alone," Max said. "Can't you see we're eating?"

  Rhys ignored him. "A shame our little brother won't be playing tomorrow."

  "I'd love to see if he could even stay on his broom," Devon said.

  Baxter snickered. "You boys are gonna get smacked tomorrow."

  "Just to show that we're good sports," Devon said, "we'll have young Harris start as a freezer tomorrow."

  Rhys winked at me. "Maybe he'll freeze you right when the kabash is flying at your face."

  Harris smirked. "That sounds fun."

  "How sad." Ambria sniffed. "I suppose Harris isn't good enough to be a carry."

  "I'm plenty good!" Harris said.

  Baxter smacked a fist into his palm. "I'll carry Edison's face right into the ground."

  "I was certainly right about you, Baxter," Ambria said in an offhanded tone. "You're just an unpleasant little boy."

  Baxter's face turned crimson. "I'll show you—"

  "Now, now," Rhys said, gripping Baxter's shoulder. "Let's get you some warm milk and calm you down."

  Devon snickered. "Perhaps he needs to sit in the timeout corner."

  I forced myself to look back down at my plate and ate more potatoes, and the boys finally went away. If they noticed the tremble in my hands, they didn't say anything about it.

  On our way back to the keep, we met Esma Emoora in the hallway.

  She smiled. "Good luck tomorrow, Conrad. I'll be rooting for you."

  "I hope I'm up to the challenge," I replied.

  Esma pursed her lips. "I have no doubts about your abilities whatsoever." She nodded and continued on her way to the dining hall.

  "Wish I felt as confident as
her," Max said. "Truth is, I'm scared half to death for you, Conrad."

  Ambria's eyes flared. "He's going to get smashed to bits, isn't he?"

  "Probably," Max said.

  I groaned and shoved Max. "Stop it. I'm nervous enough as it is."

  That night in bed, I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, my mind churning through kabash scenarios. I imagined the plays Elliott taught us and the formations we used for defending our buildings and attacking the opposition.

  The best laid plans end in chaos, Vic said in a smug voice. Chaos leads to victory.

  True, Della confirmed. Be unpredictable. Keep them off balance. Make them react to you.

  It was quite strange getting such sound advice from the voices in my head. Thanks, I'll do my best.

  You are an Edison. Della's calm reply took away some of the fear and anxiety, and suddenly sleep pulled me into its depths.

  Chapter 32

  Game time arrived at noon the next day. Crisp fall air mingled with the faint scent of cooking sausages and the dull roar of a crowd eager to see the first game of the year.

  I flexed my hands in the stiff leather gloves and made sure my uniform was snug. The black leather jacket and pants resembled something a motorcyclist might wear. The thick collar at the top bore enchantments to screen our eyes from the wind as a pair of goggles might, and in the case of an accident, to shield our head like a helmet.

  I ran a hand down the large white symbol of a hammer on my chest.

  "These uniforms are brilliant," Max said, admiring the white wand emblem on his jacket.

  "I thought black and white would look drab," I admitted, "but it actually looks somewhat menacing."

  Max grinned. "Hopefully menacing enough to make Tiberius quake in their boots."

  "Broom up," Elliott commanded.

  "Welcome to the first kabash game of the season," an announcer boomed from within the stadium. "For today's game, we have the Moore Skywraiths versus the Tiberius Titans."

  Cheers and the pounding of feet vibrated the stadium itself.

  "How many people are here?" I asked Max.

  He shrugged. "Maybe a thousand or more."