Shadow Trials

by Isla Frost

  “The problem,” I said, bringing my companions back to reality, “is how we get our hands on any of that. Might I remind you how hard it is to conjure up something from nothing?”

  Manufacturing cubes of meat for hungry dragon locks seemed to be about the limit of my abilities in that regard.

  “I don’t think we can magic a grand piano into existence for her. Though come to think of it, I bet she’d love something noisy like that. Imagine how much she could express herself then.”

  Bryn looked wistful. “It’s a pity. If I had the run of some ruins, I could rustle something up.”

  “Oh?” I raised an inquiring eyebrow and waited. We still knew very little about Bryn’s past. Maybe she felt like talking.

  “That’s what I spent most of my life doing before I came here. I was a treasure hunter or a retrieval specialist or a scrap scavenger or whatever you called it in your colony. The easy pickings were long gone, of course, but I never much liked easy anyway.”

  She grinned. “Easy doesn’t give you an excuse to use explosives.”

  “Explosives?” I shared a concerned look with Ameline. Having a roomie who was a firebug was worrisome enough. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the explosives thing.

  But it did sound like a cool job.

  Bryn either missed our shared glance or chose to ignore it.

  “Sure. Huge sections of the city were ruined, and like I said, the easy pickings—anything simple to get to—was already gone. So I would make a nice big explosion to shift some of the rubble, and bam, I’d have a whole new world to explore.”

  “Did your dad teach you that?” I asked. “Um, when he wasn’t drunk, I mean.”

  Her happy excitement drained away, and I immediately regretted the question.

  “The only thing my father taught me was how to dodge him when he was drunk and how to sit around on my ass and carve chunks of wood into prettier chunks of wood. That’s what he did for trading when he was sober. But I never liked sitting around. I preferred any activity that got me out of the house.”

  “Ah.” I couldn’t help but compare her experience with my own father. Stars, I missed him.

  Bryn jammed another log onto the already chock-full fireplace.

  “I suppose that’s one thing I could do.” She sounded reluctant. “If we could get some timber and one or two tools, I could carve something for Millicent.”

  Ameline was far more enthusiastic. “That’s a great idea.”

  “Or,” Bryn said, “I noticed there’s a timber section of the external wall where we run laps every morning that’s looking damp and prone to start rotting. I could char it with fire to preserve it.”

  I didn’t even need to glance at Ameline this time. No way were we letting Bryn loose on Millicent with a magical flamethrower. We spoke in unison.

  “Let’s go with the first thing.”

  Ameline managed to wheedle a mallet, saw, and chisels out of Glenn and Glennys, and we went to bed early. Not to get a full night’s sleep. Who had time for that? But so we could wake in the middle of the night to carry out the next step.

  When that ungodly hour came, Millicent did not illuminate the wall lamps for us. But Bryn threw more wood on the fire so we didn’t waste magic on lighting while we made our preparations.

  There was no rain or wind to cover the noises made, so we walked through the hallways with careful steps and kept conversation to a whisper. Ameline’s wand lit the way.

  We visited the office I’d broken into all those fateful nights ago first. No one had interrogated me or thrown me into a basement dungeon in the days since, so it seemed it my intrusion had gone unnoticed. But if we wanted to win Millicent over, repairing the wardrobe seemed like a necessary step.

  Bryn and Ameline stood lookout while I picked the lock, and a moment later we were inside.

  Unease trickled through me. Probably because of my horrifying experience with that damn circlet. Few nights passed without my waking in a cold sweat from a nightmarish echo of what I’d felt under its influence.

  The same unease didn’t affect my companions.

  “Cool,” Bryn crooned, running her fingers over the nearest trinkets and treasures.

  Ameline was staring at the bookshelf on the far wall like she was wondering whether the professor would notice if a few volumes went missing. But she stayed by the door. It didn’t matter that no one had forbidden us from exploring the manor. Entering a locked office was almost painful to her rule-abiding nature.

  I left them to it and strode to the wardrobe. It opened without resistance. Ignoring my reluctance to lean inside, I pushed aside the hangers of fabric to see the damage.

  Except there wasn’t any.

  My heart sped up. There was no doubt this was the right room. Which meant someone or something else had repaired that wardrobe.

  I was wrong. My intrusion hadn’t gone unnoticed. They just hadn’t figured out it was me yet.

  My gaze flew to the desk. The small iron chest wasn’t there.

  I backed up. “Let’s get out of here. Now,” I hissed. “Someone else repaired the cupboard.”

  Ameline’s eye’s widened, and I joined her at the door. Bryn caressed a gem-encrusted vase a final time before joining us too. Then we distanced ourselves from the scene of the crime as quickly and quietly as we could.

  It didn’t take long to reach the large double doors we used to access the manor grounds every morning. Millicent made no attempt to stop us going through them.

  The manicured grass and looming forest were even eerier at night. But with the three of us armed with wands and our resolve to stick close to both each other and the sentinel hedge cats, we’d be okay. At least that’s what we were counting on.

  Bryn had declared all the firewood we had in our room for too dry for carving. So we were here to find a suitable starting piece.

  We’d anticipated being outside after dark would be creepy. The moon hung heavy in the sky, illuminating the mist drifting over the grass and the breath exiting our lungs. The night was cold but still, and the stillness meant we could hear every rustling leaf and snapping twig and hair-raising growl or shriek.

  We also heard something we didn’t anticipate. Voices.

  Two kids, the hoods on their cloaks concealing their identities, were standing at the edge of the forest, arguing.

  We spotted them before they noticed us, so we crept nearer, using one of the giant hedge cats to cover our approach. We halted when the words became audible.

  “They’re close. I can feel it.”

  I knew that voice. Smooth and confident and a little slimy. Jayden, the mayor’s kid from Lewiston.

  “Then why not wait here until they arrive?”

  I recognized the second voice too but didn’t know his name. One of Jayden’s crew.

  He sounded scared.

  “Because!” Jayden’s tone changed to a vicious hiss. “I don’t want to spend one more night in this dung heap. We’ve already proven we can survive the forest with the help of these wands. Do you really want to test yourself against whatever they cook up for the third trial?”

  “Well… no, but—”

  “If you don’t come with me, I’ll tell everyone you’re already dead. So they won’t bother coming for you. Not ever.”

  Understanding dawned. Jayden thought his daddy’s promised rescue party were nearby and wanted to run off into the forest to meet them.

  That took guts. But then if he was oh so confident in his plan, why was he trying to intimidate this other kid into going with him?

  I shared a glance with Bryn and Ameline, and we stepped out into the open.

  I’d never had much tolerance for bullying.

  “Going somewhere?” I asked.

  The two guys jumped like I’d tossed a bucket of ice water over their heads. Their packs thumped against their backs, and Jayden’s pale face flushed with anger or embarrassment.

  “What’s it to you, walker lover?”

  I flashed
my teeth. “If you leave, Jayden, the whole academy will celebrate. But there’s no need to drag this poor kid to his death with you.”

  “I’m not going to die, dumbass. I’m going to be rescued and get the hell out of this place.”

  Bryn snorted. “Rescued, huh? I suppose you are a bit of a damsel.”

  Jayden’s face got more flushed.

  The slender, red-haired kid with him looked from Jayden to us and back again. Then sidled a step closer to us.

  In actual fact, I didn’t want Jayden to run off into the forest, betting on a rescue party that might never come. But I was hoping if we could prevent his unwilling companion from going with him, Jayden would chicken out. Would see reason and realize his plan was a death sentence.

  I softened my tone. “Seriously, guys. The only reason we survived the first trial in the forest was because we were all together. Even then we might have died without Theus and Lirielle’s aid.”

  It was the wrong tack to take.

  “The walkers!” Jayden spat. His fists clenched so hard they shook. “They’re the whole problem, not our freaking saviors!”

  The other kid sidled another step nearer to us.

  I inclined my head. “We know that. But you’re still more likely to survive the next few days here at the academy than you are in the forest. Like your friend said, why not wait for the rescue team to arrive?”

  Jayden stamped—actually stamped—his foot like a three-year-old. “No!” He lunged forward and grabbed the second guy’s cloak. “C’mon, Noah. Let’s go.”

  It was ridiculous, but Jayden was hauling the smaller boy backward, out past the protection of the hedge cats, so I lunged forward too and grabbed his arm.

  If the disagreement hadn’t been so deadly serious, I would have laughed at this absurd game of tug of war.

  Jayden gave up reasoning with us and focused back on Noah. “If you ever want to see your parents again, you better stop dragging your feet and come with me right now.”

  Poor Noah’s face flickered with uncertainty and longing. Jeez, I knew how that felt.

  “That’s enough,” Bryn snapped. Her wand was pointed at Jayden’s face. “Let go, or I swear I’ll blast a ball of fire straight into your pretty face. Imagine the scarring.”

  Jayden’s pretty face twisted into something that wasn’t pretty at all. His wand arm came up.

  “You know I’ll be faster,” Bryn said. “I’m good at fire.”

  Jayden’s wand faltered. He let Noah go.

  “Fine, stay here, you stinking cowards. I hope you die and have your blood sucked out by the walkers.”

  He turned and strode into the forest.

  We watched him go in silence. I think we all expected him to come back. That it was just a bluff.

  But his solitary figure was soon swallowed by shadows the moonlight did not penetrate.

  Five long minutes later, he hadn’t returned.

  Ameline broke our shocked vigil. “Are you okay?” she asked Noah.

  “I-I guess. But… what if he’s right?”

  “He isn’t,” Ameline said simply. And Noah seemed to take her at her word.

  Chapter 19

  The next morning, we found Jayden’s body—or what was left of it—on the lawn.

  In fact, everyone found Jayden’s body on the front lawn. We were spilling out of the manor for Cricklewood’s class when the first girl screamed.

  The class was canceled. And some of our classmates threw up for reasons other than too much exercise.

  Noah was one of them.

  “Is this our fault?” Ameline whispered. “Maybe we should’ve fetched a professor.”

  I shook my head—even though my own gut was one giant knot of misery.

  “No. Jayden was, for all intents and purposes, an adult.”

  Not a very mature one, but still. No one sent here to trade their life for their family’s should be treated as a child.

  “He had the right to make his own decision, and he wouldn’t have thanked us for taking it from him.”

  Ameline looked only mildly reassured.

  “Besides,” I added, “even if we’d run to the nearest professor, we might’ve been too late. Or they might not have bothered to do anything. They’ve made it clear our lives aren’t the priority around here.”

  Ameline’s frown deepened like the possibility of uncaring teachers had never occurred to her, but she nodded.

  I hugged her. “We saved Noah. Concentrate on that.”

  Then we went to the dining hall to stare at the breakfast neither of us would eat.

  Bryn was already there, shoveling food into her petite frame like a reverse magic trick. I didn’t know if that made her strong or uncaring. Or maybe just hungry. She had spent hours last night carving the mahogany wood we’d found before she’d finally returned to bed.

  I didn’t tell her or Ameline my other thoughts about Jayden’s death.

  The lawn thing bothered me. If a wild animal had killed Jayden, why would it drag its kill onto the manicured lawn that stank of humans and walkers? For that matter, how would it have gotten past the sentinel hedge cats that kept the academy grounds safe?

  Was it possible one of the walkers had been responsible? A teacher even? And if so, for what reason?

  Maybe it was a warning. To stop anyone else from trying to run. Or maybe I was being paranoid.

  I had no proof, nothing remotely concrete, and what it insinuated scared the hell out of me. Which was why I wasn’t about to put the idea in my friends’ heads unless or until there was something we could do about it.

  We needed to learn more. To find answers. More than two weeks had passed, and we were no closer to understanding the walkers’ motives. To knowing what was coming after the trial phase. To being able to protect each other and prepare ourselves.

  But for any of that to happen, we needed to do more snooping. Which meant our first step hadn’t changed. We had to win over Millicent.

  But before that, we had to get through another day of classes.

  No one had particularly liked Jayden, but his death hit the students—at least the human students—hard all the same. The mood was somber. A few of the faces we passed in the hall were tear-streaked, others unusually pale, and almost no one was joking around. Conversations, when they took place at all, were conducted in whispers.

  Yet except for that one canceled class, everything continued as normal, leaving us little time or headspace for grief.

  Theus approached me after our Rudimentary Magic lesson. “Are you all right?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because you smell of the forest. And one of the humans was killed in there mere hours ago.”

  I tucked away the information that walkers had a sense of smell to rival a dog’s, and instead of answering I asked, “What do you know about that?”

  He studied me, perhaps trying to work out what was behind my question. Suspicion? Curiosity? Reluctance to answer his question?

  I wasn’t entirely sure myself.

  “Very little,” he said after a pause. “I don’t understand why the boy would leave the safety of the academy grounds when he was not strong enough to defend himself.”

  He left to get away from you, I thought. Not Theus specifically, but walkers in general.

  I rummaged around for a more acceptable response. “I’m okay, I guess. Thanks for asking.”

  “Of course,” he said and made to leave.

  On a whim, I asked, “Are you okay?”

  If he was going to pretend to be my friend, it was a fair question. Even though I couldn’t imagine a walker being affected by the snuffing out of a human life.

  His lips tugged upward in the way I never knew whether to interpret as amusement at the strange human or something more genuine.

  “I am. Thank you.”

  Within a few days, the bulk of the students went back to being too consumed with their own troubles to dwell on Jayden’s death. There were rumors flying around
that the next trial was imminent. And where before Jayden’s body had shown up, every day that had passed without a trial had been greeted with relief, now each passing hour without the next trial being announced only added to the mounting tension.

  It was illogical, really. It was not as if Jayden’s death had been caused by the academy. Not directly. Yet his sudden and violent demise made our own mortality feel far too real. And our successes in the last two trials were no longer as reassuring.

  None of that stopped Bryn working on the gift for Millicent though.

  The night she completed it, the three of us snuck out of our room. We might have waited until daylight, but Bryn didn’t want the other students knowing she was the artist, and she’d designed it to hang above the manor’s front doors.

  Millicent did little to impede our passage. I chose to take that as a good sign.

  It was strange to be outside after dark again. None of us brought up what happened three nights ago just fifty yards away. We just clustered together on the steps and appraised the manor’s entrance.

  “How are we going to hang it?” Ameline asked, voice quiet.

  It was beautiful. An ornate letter M carved from rich mahogany timber. Bryn might not like woodcarving much, but she was darn good at it.

  “Magic maybe.” I didn’t like the idea of marring the piece of art with a nail, and I didn’t want Millicent taking offense if we dared to hammer something into her mortar.

  “Magic,” Bryn agreed.

  She was too short to reach the top of the doors. But magic provided a solution to that too. She and I aimed our wands together at the beautifully embellished M. We wanted to demonstrate the gift was from both of us, and we also didn’t want to send it smashing to the steps because of a momentary distraction.

  The M floated up without a hitch and neatly adhered itself to the stone surface.

  “How’d you make it stick?” I asked her.

  “I didn’t. I thought you did that?”

  The three of us stared at Bryn’s handiwork. The carved mahogany timber resting against the pale stone backdrop looked good. Like it had always belonged there.