The quartet was near the northwestern Ostirina Tower, about to enter and climb to their classroom, when they heard the horns blare.
"The Horns of Teel," Madori whispered, a chill gripping her. "The headmistress calls."
She shuddered. Madori had spent many hours reading history books in Teel's library; according to them, the Horns of Teel blew only in the most dire circumstances, calling all students into the cloister to hear the headmaster or mistress speak.
The horns blared again—a high, ethereal sound like the cry of some unearthly being. Madori had never seen the fabled dragons of Eloria—it was said that only one still lived—but she had always imagined their cry sounding like this.
Students began to emerge from classrooms like ants from a disturbed hive. Eyes darted and hands were wrung. Madori's Quartet was caught in the stream as hundreds of students headed toward the cloister.
When the horns finally fell silent, every student at Teel stood in the courtyard, first to fourth years. An eerie silence covered the university. Then, with the shuffle of robes, the crowd parted to let Headmistress Egeria walk toward the stage at the back, the place where she had first addressed Madori and her fellow applicants many months ago. For the first time since Madori had met her, the old headmistress walked with a cane, stooped over, and it seemed that she had aged many years since the last turn. Egeria had always seemed old but also vigorous and vivacious; now she reminded Madori of how her great-grandpapa had looked in his final days.
"Headmistress," Madori whispered as the elderly woman hobbled by her.
Egeria raised her head to look at Madori. Tears filled the headmistress's eyes. She whispered, her voice so low Madori barely heard.
"You must look after them, Madori. You must look after the others." The headmistress glanced behind her and paled. Furtively, she placed a folded piece of paper in Madori's hand.
Glancing behind her again, the headmistress kept moving toward the stage. When Madori too looked behind, she saw Professor Atratus standing between the columns of the eastern gallery, his arms crossed, his eyes blazing as he stared at the headmistress. He seemed like a master watching an errant pup.
The headmistress reached the stage. Leaning on her cane, she hobbled up the stairs and turned toward the crowd. Even standing at a distance, Madori saw that fresh tears filled Egeria's eyes. Murmurs of conversation swept across the crowd.
The headmistress raised a trembling hand, and the crowd fell silent. Egeria spoke for them all to hear, her voice soft at first but gaining strength with every word.
"Dearest students, you have heard many stories, rumors, and whispers over the past turn. The tidings from the south have been confirmed. The old king of Mageria is dead. The cause of death reported is . . ." Egeria glanced to the shadows where Atratus was watching her. She swallowed and a tremble filled her voice. ". . . the Night Plague, a disease spread from Eloria. Lord Tirus Serin, Warden of Sunmotte, has been crowned our new king."
A new murmur swept across the crowd. Several cheers rose, along with chants for the Radians. Madori forced herself to keep staring ahead, her jaw tight, refusing to look at Lari who stood across the field; she had a feeling that Lari was staring right at her.
The headmistress gestured to two fourth year students. Both stepped onto the stage, carrying a chest between them. Both sported Radian pins upon their lapels. The students opened the chest and tilted it forward, revealing hundreds of pins.
Egeria kept speaking, her voice trembling. "Henceforth, on orders from our new king, all Timandrian students at Teel University shall wear Radian pins, showing the sun eclipsing the moon." Her voice cracked. "All Elorian and half-Elorian students will wear a different pin, this one shaped as a snake. You will now step forth, one by one as your names are called, to receive your pins."
Madori glanced aside at Jitomi. He met her gaze, his eyes dark.
Professor Atratus stepped onto the stage next, unrolled a scroll, and spent the next hour barking out names. Students approached, one by one, to receive their pins. The Timandrians accepted their Radian pins with pride, some adding a chant for Lord Serin and Radianism. Whenever an Elorian student stepped onto the stage, Atratus sneered and held out the serpent pin in disgust.
Finally Madori's name was called. She trembled with rage when she stepped onto the stage and faced Atratus.
"A serpent for a worm," Atratus said, glee in his eyes, his lips curled back in a mockery of a grin. He slapped the brooch against her chest. "All will now know that Elorians and mongrels are beasts that crawl in the dust."
When all the students had received their pins, Egeria addressed the crowd again. She stood upon the stage and let her cane drop; it clattered onto the stage. Madori thought the old woman would fall, but Egeria spoke in a loud voice, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Students of Teel University! Be strong. I promise you—no Elorians will be hurt on my watch. You are safe, my students, regardless of what pin you wear. Be strong and know that I protect you."
Madori's Motley spent the rest of the half-turn in their chamber, guarding the door and windows. All classes and exams had been postponed; instead, the Teel Radian Society rallied in the cloister. The sound echoed across the university, shaking the chamber walls. Standing at the window, Madori heard Professor Atratus shout of sunlit domination, heard Lari—head of the Radian Society and now Princess of Mageria—demand to drive out the undesirables. After every slogan, the crowds cheered and the walls shook anew.
"Perhaps Tam was right," Jitomi said. The Elorian stood guarding the door, his snake pin fastened to his cloak. "We can still flee. While they rally."
Madori bit her lip.
Perhaps they're right, she thought. Perhaps we should leave.
She tried to imagine returning home—to her parents, to old Hayseed, to her old bed, to her books and dolls and the silver flute her mother always tried to force her to play. Back in Fairwool-by-Night, she was nothing but a lonely girl, a misfit, powerless and aimless. Here at Teel she had found a purpose, but what hope did this place now have for her?
"I understand, Jitomi," she said softly. She lowered her head, her throat tight. "When the bells next chime, and everyone is sleeping, you should leave." She had to blink rapidly. "This place is no longer safe for you. But I must stay."
Tam stepped toward her and clutched her arms. "Billygoat, your life is at risk here. Leave Teel too. I'll go with you. I'll shelter you and Jitomi in Kingswall—all other Elorian students here too, if they'll join us."
"And I'll go with you." Neekeya nodded emphatically, placing a hand on Madori's shoulder. "This place is too dangerous. We all leave together."
Madori laughed mirthlessly. "You are both Timandrians. You wear the Radian pins upon your lapels. Jitomi and I wear the serpent pins; we're in danger, but you're safe."
It was Tam's turn to laugh. He tugged off his Radian pin, tossed it onto the ground, and stomped on it. "What Radian pin?"
Neekeya tossed down her own pin and shattered it beneath her foot. "I don't see any Radian pins."
"Atratus won't be happy." Madori bit her lip. "Those pins might be the only thing that keeps you safe now."
"Then I'd rather be in danger," Tam said. Holding her, he stared into Madori's eyes. "Billygoat, we've been friends all our lives. I'm not going to toss you to the wolves. If you and Jitomi have to leave this university, Neekeya and I are going with you, and we'll keep you safe on the road."
He pulled her into his arms, and Neekeya joined the embrace. Madori—almost a foot shorter than them—disappeared into their warmth, and she could not curb her tears, for despite the pain and fear she felt beloved, and she felt safe.
And yet . . . Egeria's old words returned to her.
You will stay at Teel, Madori, and you will learn magic.
Her eyes stung.
She thought back to the war stories her parents had told her. Torin and Koyee, the great heroes of the war, had many chances to return home. They had kept going—travelin
g into the heart of darkness, the flames of war, determined to fight for what was right, willing even to die for truth.
I am Madori Billy Greenmoat, she thought. Billy after Bailey, the great heroine who fought with my parents. Bailey had died in that war, fighting against the evil sweeping across Moth. She had given her life and saved this world. How can I, the daughter of heroes, flee an enemy?
"No," she whispered, still wrapped in the embrace. "No, my friends. I will not flee. When you escape danger rather than face it, it will forever hunt you. Here within the walls of Teel will I make my stand. Evil rises; I will face it. Like my parents did. Like Bailey did. I will become a mage."
Her friends stepped away, looking at her strangely, as if she had changed before them like a creature in Transformations class. And perhaps she had changed.
Hardship changes us. It turns us into heroes or cowards. When disaster strikes, we metamorphose into the person who's been sleeping inside us.
She was about to say more when the door shook madly.
The Motley spun toward the door. Madori sucked in breath and raised her hands, already readying herself for magic. The door rattled again and chips of wood flew.
"Death to Elorians!" rose cries outside. "Drag out the nightcrawlers and show them Timandrian pride."
Tam and Neekeya raced forward and pressed themselves against the door. It shook again and more wooden fragments flew. A hinge came loose.
"Drag them out and make them pay for their sins!" somebody cried outside.
Madori was already whispering under her breath, repeating the theorems she had learned in her classes. She quickly claimed the floor, rattling the tiles to send the hinge into the air. She switched to claiming the air, shoving the hinge back against the door, then switched again, claiming the hinge and bolting it back into the door and wall. At her side, Jitomi was busy casting magic too. A funnel of air left his hands, drove toward the door between Tam and Neekeya, and flattened against it, providing extra weight.
The door held. The window shutters smashed open behind them.
Madori spun around at once, claimed the flying shards of shutters, and tossed them back at the window. A student outside—a fourth year—cried out in pain, the wooden chips driving into his face.
"The snakes are attacking!" he cried.
"Jitomi!" Madori cried. She was already tossing a cone of air at the window, sealing the entrance with an opaque, swirling blob. Jitomi added his own shield. The air in the room thinned, most of it shoving against the window and door, leaving Madori lightheaded.
Behind her the door shook again; a crack tore open across it. Hands reached inside. Tam and Neekeya were still pushing their weight against the door when magic coalesced outside, forming a smoky battering ram, and drove forward.
The door shattered into countless pieces. Wooden shards flew. Tam and Neekeya fell and sprawled against the floor.
The empty doorway revealed a columned arcade swarming with Radian students, all proudly displaying their pins. Some were raising Radian banners.
Lari stood among them, hands on her hips. She pointed into the chamber and screamed, "Grab the nightcrawlers! Punish the creatures who poisoned our old king!"
Not waiting another breath, Madori thrust both her arms forward, palms facing outward. Collecting particles of dust and wooden chips, she wove a ball and tossed it forward. The missile flew toward Lari, but the princess was too swift. She swept her arm, diverting the projectile with a blast of air.
Radians spilled into the room, eyes blazing, teeth bared, feral animals on the hunt.
"Call them back or you'll pay for this, Lari!" Madori shouted. "Your father's arse might be warming the throne, but Egeria still rules Teel."
Lari smirked. "Such a mouth on those creatures. I will enjoy smashing that mouth."
Violence filled the room with shouts, thuds, and splatters of blood. Neekeya swung her sword, keeping the blade sheathed, slamming the wooden scabbard against an assailant's head. Tam thrust his dagger in one hand, a chair in the other. Jitomi was muttering spells and Madori made an attempt to claim a Radian's boots and tug him onto the floor.
A student—Derin, the tall boy from Lari's quartet—leaped toward her. Madori jumped back but was too slow; Derin's fist slammed into her cheek, knocking her down. She blinked, seeing stars, and kicked wildly. Her foot hit Derin's shin and he fell, muttering curses. Three other Radians replaced him, leaping onto Madori, and she screamed and punched one's face. Her ring cut through his cheek and he fell back.
Elorian curses filled the air, and Madori kicked off another student to see Radians mobbing Jitomi. The Elorian boy was swinging his fists, shouting battle cries in Ilari, the tongue of his southern empire.
But the Radians were too many; a dozen filled the room and a hundred others filled the arcade outside. Boots pressed down on Madori, pinning her to the floor. Fists slammed into Neekeya and Tam, knocking them down. Hands grabbed Jitomi, tugging him outside.
"Jitomi!" Madori cried out, and another fist drove into her head, and for a moment she saw only shadows and lights, heard only ringing.
She thought that she would die here. Blood filled her mouth and dripped into her eyes. She had no time for magic; it was all she could do to keep breathing. She had to keep breathing. Breath by breath, like her father had taught her. Yet Torin had meant that breathing was easy, a rhythm always with her, an anchor to cling too. Right now breathing felt like the most difficult thing in the world, and boots drove into her stomach, and she doubled over.
No. I won't die here.
Lying on the floor, blows raining onto her, she balled her hands into fists.
Her parents had fought in the great Battle of Pahmey. They had sailed down the Inaro and slain mages in the port of Sinyong. They had faced the demon Ferius in Yintao, the greatest battle in the history of Moth, and finally slew him upon the Mountain of Time.
I am the daughter of heroes. I will not die in a school scuffle.
She pushed herself to her feet, and her magic blasted out of her.
Air slammed into her assailants. Furniture flew, crashing against them. Radians thudded against the walls, banged their heads, then slumped down, unconscious.
Neekeya lay on the floor, a gash bleeding on her forehead. Tam lay above her, shielding her with his body. Both were still breathing. Madori stood in the center of the room, feeling as if she held the air, the walls, the entire university in her arms. She had claimed objects before; now Madori felt as if she had claimed the world, held everything around her in her awareness.
Silent, her palms held outward as if carrying the weight of the air, she walked outside.
She stood in the cloister's eastern arcade—a portico of columns ahead of her, arches above her, the wall of chamber doors behind her. A mob of Radians had pinned Jitomi to one column. The Elorian was unconscious, his chin slumped to his chest, but the other students were holding him up. Fists and kicks thumped against the boy's thin frame. Blood ran down Jitomi's chin.
Madori thrust her arms out, palms facing toward the mob of Radians. Air blasted them, knocking them down. Standing a dozen feet away from him, Madori stretched out one finger, supporting Jitomi with a funnel of air. She gently lowered him to the ground.
A gurgling gasp sounded behind her.
Her strands of hair rising like seaweed in the water, crackling with energy, Madori turned around to see Lari.
The new Princess of Mageria stared, her own hair wild, her fingers curled up at her sides.
Madori smiled crookedly and took a step toward her.
With a strangled yelp, Lari spun on her heel and fled.
Madori wanted to chase the girl, to hurt her, maybe even to kill her, but her friends needed her. With the Radians all unconscious or fled, Madori released her magic, letting go of the awareness that connected her with all materials around her. She raced toward Jitomi and knelt above him.
Cuts covered him and blood dripped from his mouth. He was still breathing but that brea
th was shallow. Madori closed her eyes, trying to summon more magic, to heal his wounds, but she was too weary. Her body shook, and she found herself slumped next to him.
Footsteps thudded down the hall.
With a flutter of robes, Professor Fen burst into the hallway. The bald, mustached man gasped and sputtered.
"What— What—"
More feet shuffled, and old Professor Yovan raced from between two columns, nearly tripping over his beard. Madori tried to explain. She tried to tell them it wasn't her fault, but only slurred words left her mouth, barely words at all, merely sounds.
She tilted and Fen caught her head before it could slam against the floor. The last thing she saw was his concerned face, and then his eyes became blue oceans that she drowned in.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:
CAGED
Madori stood above his bed, her head lowered.
"I'm sorry, Jitomi." She tasted tears on her lips. "I'm so sorry."
He slept in the infirmary bed, breathing softly. Several other beds were occupied: some with other Elorian students, pulled from their rooms and beaten in the cloister, and other beds with Radians, many of whom Madori's magic had battered. Only by miracle had nobody died that turn.
But you came close to dying, Jitomi, she thought.
He seemed so peaceful, sleeping there. The dragon tattoo seemed to be sleeping too, its tail coiling along his neck, its head resting above his eye. Madori stroked the boy's hair. It was soft, smooth, and white as purest silk, the same hair her mother had, that all Elorians had. She leaned down and kissed his forehead.
"I'm sorry, Jitomi." Her tears splashed against him, and on a whim, not even realizing what she was doing, she kissed his lips.
Daughter of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 4) Page 19
