by Isla Frost
What the hell were the walkers doing? It hadn’t escaped my notice that a lot more kids on their side of the circle were still standing, but if they could slay freaking dragons, then surely they could do more than this lousy wall.
“Theus, Lirielle, do something!” I yelled. “Or we’re going to have casualties back here.”
I dived at a beast that had clawed its way up a screeching girl’s back. Their bites were nasty enough, but if they went for our jugulars, they’d be fatal. I wrenched it off her and swung it at a second who’d chosen easier prey in one of the unconscious kids. Both beasts slammed into the wall.
One crumpled, the other used the barricade as a springboard to vault back at me, four of its six sets of claws aimed for my face.
I dodged and spun. One claw caught my uniform and raked a stinging line across my skin. The fiend whirled in midair to face me again, but I was ready this time and caught it upon its landing with a wand to the skull.
Hoping no walker witnessed the way I’d just used the bone of their ancestor, I spun again, expecting to find a fresh target. But only humans moved within our makeshift stronghold. I wiped sweat from my face and forced my trembling legs to straighten so I could look over the wall.
A minute earlier, the earth beyond had been bare but for leaf litter and the occasional shrub. Now it was a dense jungle of bramble canes. Hundreds of beasts were trapped inside, letting out little yips as they squirmed through the thorns to free themselves. Others had been impaled by the canes and would never move again. But in either case, they were no longer trying to get to us.
I turned to stare at Lirielle and Theus, unsure whether to thank or curse them. Why the hell hadn’t they pulled out that little trick sooner?
A nearby moan drew my attention back to more important matters. Ameline and Bryn were both scratched up but still standing. The relief of that made my knees weak. Or maybe that was my bone-deep wariness.
But many of our classmates were not so lucky.
I wiped my hair out of my face with my least-bloody forearm. “Good work, everyone. We’re almost safe. So whoever has the strength to help carry one of the knocked-out kids, now’s the time.”
Jayden was one of the still conscious—unfortunately. “I’m exhausted.”
I glared at him. “We’re all exhausted.” I didn’t mention the two obvious exceptions. “Suck it up. We’re not leaving anyone behind.”
No one else complained. Not even the burned-hair, half-strangled vine victim who looked barely able to carry himself.
With a third of our number down, it was going to be a long, hard slog to the academy. I just prayed we wouldn’t be attacked along the way and that every one of those downed kids was merely unconscious.
I didn’t have the heart to tell people to check.
Besides, even if they were dead, I didn’t want to leave them here.
The walkers cleared a path through the brambles like Moses and the Red Sea and led us forward. Neither of them had broken a sweat.
The fact they were shoulder-carrying a couple of kids each made me less sour about that.
Three grueling minutes later, we collapsed on the lawn of Millicent Manor.
Chapter 13
We were rewarded for our courage and teamwork…
With Cricklewood comparing our speed unfavorably to that of a lamed turtle’s. Then promising us all extra laps the next day.
The real reward was simple.
Nobody died.
Dunraven handed out an antiseptic healing salve for smaller scrapes and cuts. The unconscious kids and those with more serious injuries were taken to the infirmary.
Once Ameline, Bryn, and I had recovered for a minute, we staggered our way up the steps of the manor and straight to the girls’ bathroom.
I didn’t have the strength to fight with Millicent for hot water, so Ameline filled a bucket for me, and I used that to wash away the sweat, grime, and blood.
Afterward we slathered ourselves in the healing salve and fell into our beds. I don’t think I was asleep before my head touched my pillow. But I was dead to the world three seconds after.
I woke some hours later to the drumming thunder of rain and lashing wind that rattled the window in its frame. No light leaked around the curtain, so it was still dark outside.
My body was heavy with fatigue, but I forced myself to sit up.
I didn’t think the intensity of our studies was going to lessen anytime soon. And I wasn’t about to waste the three months I had here mindlessly following orders until… Well, whatever was coming after the trial phase occurred. Assuming any humans survived that long.
I needed answers. Needed to know what was really going on here. Why on earth were the walkers arming us with knowledge and wands when it was clear to everyone that humans were inferior in every way the walkers cared about? Why were we competing in a series of deadly trials just to earn the “right” to continue at the academy? And if at least some human students supposedly made it through this three-month trial period, where were all the kids from previous intakes?
My heart twisted in my chest the way it always did when I thought of Fletcher. The boy next door. The eldest of four brothers. The gentle giant who’d always been there when I needed him—whether that was getting me in or out of trouble.
If I’d had a second best friend growing up, Fletcher was it. Until two years ago when he’d stepped through that damn runegate. Vanishing from my life like all firstborns did to their families.
I’d been hoping ever since that I’d find him here.
I swung my feet out of bed. Somebody had to put an end to the Firstborn Agreement. I had to put an end to it. And if I was going to work toward that impossible goal, there was no time like the present.
Besides which, the noise of the storm would do an excellent job of covering any sounds I made snooping.
Millicent didn’t light up the lamps on the walls as my feet touched the floorboards. Good. Better that Bryn and Ameline stay sleeping.
Bryn had stoked up the fire before collapsing into her own bed, so I could see enough in the warm glow of the embers to find my cloak, notebook, and wand. Lucky for me, Millicent hadn’t made the door disappear either.
As soon as I’d slunk through, I imagined my wand emitting a faint light. I wasn’t sure whether it’d work since I couldn’t point the wand at itself. But just like that, I had myself a lantern of sorts.
As little as I liked the walkers, I had to admit their bones sure came in handy.
Now for the real test. Would Millicent rat me out? There was no one around to see her wallpaper gestures and she didn’t seem to talk, but she had flipped me out of bed, so a sleeping teacher or golin wouldn’t pose much of an obstacle. But would she rat me out? How much did she understand? Even if she knew enough to realize I was breaking some kind of rule, would she care? Or did she only care about damage to herself?
I remembered Grimwort’s warning about setting the furniture on fire and decided I’d best avoid damaging anything she might consider hers in this snooping expedition.
Checking Dunraven’s map, I headed for the nearest unmarked room. My bare feet were already turning cold against the floorboards, but I thought I might be appreciative of their stealth later, even with the lashing rain and howling wind as cover.
There was a visible door. That was a good start. The rooms I’d passed that had been marked as dormitories on the map hadn’t been visible from the corridor, and I’d wondered whether my late-night exploration would be over before it began.
I tried the cool brass knob and felt a thrill of anticipation when it turned. Until it opened to an empty room. That explained why it was unlocked.
I moved to the next unmarked room and found an unused classroom, the chairs and tables collecting dust against the wall. The third room contained an assortment of long-dead plants. All right then. Interesting but not useful. The fourth doorknob I tried was locked.
If I hadn’t drained my magic reserves to nil a few ho
urs ago, I might have tried my wand. But caution made me reach for my dagger sheath. My dagger was gone of course, but the holder concealed a few other useful tools, including my set of lockpicks.
A local guy had made a study of locks so he could open doors, padlocks, and safes whose keys and owners had been lost in the invasion. I’d traded the information for chopping up a winter’s worth of firewood and lugging a backbreaking amount of water. The result being that I knew how locks worked. Not that I had the gear on me to crack a complex safe right now.
But the old doorknob was no challenge—a simple pin tumbler lock that my tools made short work of.
I’d half expected it to eschew mundane locking mechanisms altogether for some kind of walker magic, but then Millicent had doubtless existed a long time before the walkers moved in. Not in sentient form of course, but the point remained.
Luckily for me.
Inside was someone’s office. I closed the door behind me and checked my map again. If vicinity was any indication, it might have been Grimwort’s office.
I grimaced. Best not to imagine what he’d do if he caught me snooping.
Wand light outstretched, I ventured deeper into the room. Bookshelves lined the back wall, but the titles I could see were all in foreign languages, and the shelves held as many trinkets as they did books. On my right were two matching wardrobes, and on the left was a generous rosewood desk. I moved toward the latter.
There were no drawers to rummage through, but the surface held a stack of the notebooks they’d provided us with, an oversized golden quill, the skull of a creature I didn’t recognize, and a small iron chest.
I flicked open a few of the notebooks in case they’d belonged to a prior student, but the pages were blank. My gaze landed back on the small iron chest. It was intricately etched with a labyrinth of tiny, delicate leaves, but what caught my attention were the two locks that bound it shut.
One was of human make, a complex pick-resistant padlock with seven pins and an unusual, narrow keyway that would take a good five minutes and most of my skill to unlock. A different league altogether than the one on the door.
The second lock must have been magical in origin. A miniature dragon, impressively lifelike but made of solid steel, had its tail wrapped around the padlock loops. When I drew near, the dragon yawned, displaying rows of needle-sharp teeth, and opened violet eyes to regard me.
A violent gust of wind rattled the window and I jumped, unable to stop myself glancing around the room. No one was there. Of course.
Chiding myself, I turned back to the chest. I would focus on the magic lock first. If I couldn’t convince the dragon to let me in, there was no point unlocking its mundane counterpart.
Experimentally I poked a pick inside the dragon’s mouth to learn if it had any recognizable locking mechanisms. The tiny steel teeth chomped down and snapped the tool in two.
I snatched my hand away and cursed. I should’ve seen that coming. But at least I had other picks. Not that I’d be using them anywhere near the little monster’s mouth.
Instead, I retrieved my wand light from the desk. “Okay, wandy, we’ve been through battle now, you and I, right? We’re on the same team?”
My wand—or more accurately, the walker’s bone I was borrowing—did not answer.
I aimed it at my quarry and visualized the miniature dragon unwinding its twining tail from the padlock loops.
The dragon snarled and spat a ball of flame at me. I didn’t have time to dodge.
The tiny fireball hit my stomach, but our uniforms must’ve been burn-resistant as well as sweat, stain, and tear-resistant, because the flame died.
“Yikes.” I patted the smoking spot on my shirt and chewed my lip in contemplation. “Okay, tough guy. Don’t like being told what to do, is that it?”
Wilverness had said real dragons rarely deigned to cooperate with other beings.
“But I bet you must get hungry, sitting here guarding your treasure day in and day out?”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed, but it didn’t spit more flame, and I thought there might’ve been a flash of a tiny forked tongue across its teeth.
I’d conjured fire out of thin air. How hard could it be to conjure a chunk of raw meat?
Or would it only work if I conjured a miniature prey animal the dragon could chase around the room? If so, I might have to give up on unlocking this chest and return to bed. I doubted my power reservoir had refilled yet, and my feet were freezing.
So I pictured a cube of raw meat. Imagined the smell, the color, the texture (but not the taste) and aimed my wand just in front of the dragon.
Sure enough, a chunk of meat appeared, albeit a little smaller than I’d intended.
Wow.
No wonder the walkers hadn’t given all humans wands like these. We wouldn’t be dependent on them if we could conjure our own food.
Not that I knew whether magically created food had the nutritional value of the real thing. And maybe it wouldn’t be sustainable even then, because I felt the energy leave my body. Either I hadn’t recovered yet, or making something out of nothing was costly.
But the dragon’s eyes widened and it made a little rumbling sound. Almost like it was purring. Then it unraveled its tail of its own accord and climbed down the chest for its midnight snack.
I was simultaneously delighted and dismayed. How much time had I just bought myself? Perhaps I should’ve picked the mundane padlock first after all.
I set to work. The narrow keyway made the unpicking especially awkward, and I had to stop and recast the spell two more times before the greedy lizard curled up and went to sleep on the desk. But at last I got the chest unlocked.
Abruptly nervous, I took a steadying breath and opened the lid.
Inside the chest was a single object. An elegant ebony circlet resting on a pillow of green satin.
I tried to imagine Grimwort wearing it and snickered at the image.
So why was it here? Sure, it was pretty enough, but the walkers weren’t short on jewels or riches. Why go to such lengths to protect it? Sentiment?
I brushed my fingers over its cool, polished surface and felt the sudden need to try it on. To wear it. Just for a second.
My hands moved before I’d finished processing the strange compulsion, and I placed the circlet on my head.
Darkness swallowed me.
It was not the darkness of night. It was less, and it was more. It was the absence of all. A nothingness so thick I could choke on it.
Fear squeezed my lungs, my throat, and yet I was no longer sure I had a body. That I had ever possessed a body. I waved my theoretical hand in front of my eyes and saw nothing. Not a stir. There was a metallic taste on my tongue. The pressure of the void heavy in my ears. If I indeed possessed either. And the fear.
That. That was real.
Real and growing. Rising. Building and ascending in some crashing, clamoring, monstrous crescendo I could not hear.
I couldn’t breathe. Did not know if I needed to.
And then it came. I knew not what it was, only that it was hunting, ravenous. And coming for me.
I stumbled backward, unable to pant in fear for I had no breath to expel. My body, or my sense of such an odd construct, was being crushed under the weight of the darkness.
Then something brushed against the fingers I did not have. Something breathed hot, hungry breaths that pierced even the nothingness. And I stumbled backward another step, wishing with every fiber of my being that I could scream.
I fell instead. Smashing my head against timber. And the horrendous, terrifying blackness was replaced by the dark of night. Three paces away, my wand light still glowed. And by its illumination I had just enough time to see the circlet on the ground beside me before the wardrobe I’d apparently fallen into slammed shut.
I didn’t even care. I sucked in greedy, panicked breaths, and the timber against my back became more solid. The pain in my oxygen-starved lungs and limbs more apparent.
Or maybe it was more than that. Every muscle ached and trembled. My mouth was bloody where I’d bitten my tongue. And it took long minutes for me to recollect myself.
I was in a wardrobe. In an office I’d broken into. With an evil circlet thing lying far too close for comfort.
I forced my trembling legs beneath me, shifted swathes of fabric aside to make room, and pushed myself into a standing position. It took a lot more steadying breaths before I could stop leaning against the wardrobe for support.
When I could stand unassisted, I shoved at the door.
It did not open.
I shoved harder, putting my shoulder into it.
The timber didn’t so much as budge.
I groaned as realization set in.
Millicent had locked me in the cupboard with the circlet I was desperate to get away from so I would be caught for trespassing.
Chapter 14
I’d somehow dropped both my wand and my lockpicks when the circlet had compelled me to wear it. And when I fumbled for a lock in the dark, I could find no mechanism to unpick regardless.
“This isn’t funny, Millicent,” I muttered. “Let me out.”
The horror of… Well, whatever that had been was sticking to me like the world’s worst spiderweb, and I wanted to get the hell out of this dark cupboard now.
Screw it then. I felt each side of the wardrobe, searching for the weakest component. The rear panel was the thinnest.
Hoping there was at least a small gap between the cupboard and the wall, I pressed my back against the stupid door that refused to open, and used the leverage to kick the rear panel with every bit of strength I could muster.
My heel went through with a satisfying crack, letting in a smidgen of the light I craved. I didn’t even care that the noise might be audible over the pouring rain. I repeated the process a few more times until I could rip away large pieces of the splintered wood with my hands.
So much for not breaking anything.
I didn’t know how much the manor understood, but just in case, I hissed, “For the record, Millicent, I wouldn’t have damaged the wardrobe if you hadn’t trapped me inside. This one’s on you.”
