“Oh, child,” the elf’s face glowed as if illuminated by the reflected light of joy, “what a hard path I see before you. If you choose to tread it, great sorrow awaits, and yet even greater joy. Not only for you, but for all those who would never leave the darkness, were you not willing to travel it.”
Rachel’s lips parted, but no sound came out. With crystal clarity, she remembered the little Lion in the infirmary telling her: “If you meet a man, and he is lost, take his hand…You see the path and walk it already. Some just need to hear the sound of their footsteps upon the path to know it is different than the woods.” He had been talking of Gaius. Or she thought he had. Was that what the elf meant, too?
“I…” She paused and drew a deep breath, calling on her mother’s dissembling techniques to help her regain her composure. She spoke calmly but with studied deliberation. “Whatever path that is—the one that brings others joy—I want to walk that path.”
“And you will, dear one.” The elf squeezed her hands.
“I will accept a gift.” Rachel’s voice was quiet yet fierce. “Give me whatever, in your judgment, will best help me to reach that future. The future you see where even one more person walks in the light. That’s what I want. To help others leave the darkness.”
Kneeling before her, the elf stared up into Rachel’s face. She gazed at her for what seemed like a very long time. Then, she tipped her head back, her eyes half closed.
Finally, she rose. “Child, where would you like me to put your gift? Do you have a ring or a trinket that you carry with you?”
“Does it have to be on an object I could lose?” Rachel looked around her uncertainly, patting her robe and her pockets. “Would my broom do? It’s outside.”
“Hmm. You could lose a talisman, couldn’t you? Would you like me to put it directly onto your body? That might hurt a bit.”
“That’s…okay, I guess.”
“Pick an out-of-the-way spot. It will look like a silver tattoo.”
“Um…” Rachel patted the side of her head. “Could you put it here? Under my hair?”
The elf woman smiled. “Yes. I can. Come.”
She led Rachel to the center of the room, the will-o-the-wisps whispering their soft song overhead. She placed her hand on the right side of Rachel’s head. Then, the elf woman stood straight and seemed to grow mightier.
In a voice that rang through the chamber, the daughter of Idunn cried, “‘I know a twenty-first. All those who seek to remember should cherish it. If I wish to recall events that have come to pass, no power shall deter me.’”
A burst of joy exploded inside Rachel. “But…You said you couldn’t give me that one! I thought…”
Tremendous pain seared the side of her head.
Rachel screamed.
Chapter Twenty-Two:
Of Brooms and Iron Filings
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Joy asked for the fifth time. “You screamed really loud.”
The four of them stood in the broom closet, amidst the racks of floating harnesses. It smelled of sweat and polish. Rachel held onto Vroomie, while Sigfried and the princess returned their borrowed Flycycles. Mr. Burke had paused outside the gym to speak with another tutor.
“I am fine,” Rachel insisted. “It only hurt for a moment.”
She rubbed the right side of her head. It felt normal, but the memory of the searing pain lingered. It had been frightening. She had never experienced such pain. Still, it was worth it. Just the thought of the silvery rune hidden under her hair—the elf had let her examine it in a mirror—made her tremble with joy. She did not know why the elf had changed her mind and given her the memory-protecting Rune after all, but she was tremendously grateful.
“So,” Rachel leaned forward conspiratorially, “what do we do now? How do we use the information we’ve gained to protect the world and catch Egg?”
“Catch Egg?” Joy sputtered. “We can’t catch Egg! We’re only fourteen!”
Nastasia wiped down her bristleless with a cloth intended for that purpose. Her golden curls bounced as she worked. She said, “We’ve had quite a bit of adventure lately. I recommend we concentrate on our studies. We are here to attend school. I let the dean know about Azrael, and she will tell the appropriate people.”
“Oh,” murmured Rachel dejectedly.
The thought of helping to save the world had ignited a fire within Rachel. It burned like a steady flame. The princess’s practical words extinguished it as rapidly as one snuffs a candle. Nastasia was right. What could a handful of children do against demons and threats from Outside? It was time to turn the matter over to the Wisecraft.
The thought made her feel empty.
“Studies, muddies! The grown-ups don’t know anything. They won’t do anything. They don’t know about Azrael. They don’t know about the Elf. They don’t know about the Metaplutonians,” Sigfried declared as he hung up his borrowed broom. “It’s up to us!”
That made Rachel smile. Siggy could be relied on both for his enthusiasm and for his distrust of leaving things to adults. She feared Nastasia was right that there was nothing they could contribute, but the tiniest spark of her old resolve rekindled.
A group of older girls walked past the open door. Joy cried, “Oh! There’s my sister, Hope. There’s something I need to talk to her about. I’ll see you later.” She rushed off, following the older girls. Sigfried and Lucky wandered after her. This left Rachel alone with Nastasia. Rachel took a breath. The time had come to confess.
She blurted out, “I promised Dread we would swap information.”
“What?” the princess exclaimed. “What about keeping secrets in the Inner Circle!”
“You’re telling the dean.”
“I am reporting to the legitimate authorities,” Nastasia replied regally. “This is not a game, Rachel: I tell someone, you get to tell someone else. As you are so fond of repeating, the world may be at stake—if we believe that Raven, which I, for one, do not. He let the Lightbringer come into my dream, after all. I do not trust him. So, my telling the dean does not give you carte blanche to share secrets with Vladimir Von Dread.”
“I’ll write out everything. You and Siggy can veto whatever you don’t want me to share,” Rachel spoke hurriedly. “But he has information we lack. Information that might prove crucial.”
“I hardly think so,” the princess said haughtily.
“He knew the Raven was our world’s Guardian. No one else knew that. Not even Maverick Badger or the school’s Master Warder, Nighthawk.”
Nastasia frowned imperiously. “Have you forgotten he forced me to disobey my father? After I strictly told him not to touch me! Dread is a villain. I want no dealings with him.”
“You don’t have to come, if you feel uncomfortable.” Rachel tried to keep the hope out of her voice. It was important to speak privately with men like Von Dread. She had learned that from her grandfather. If her friends chose not to accompany her, it would make her task much easier.
“No. It is best if we are all there,” the princess replied simply.
“Yes, of course,” murmured Rachel.
“Hey,” Siggy’s voice drifted in from the hall, “why does this door go nowhere?”
The two girls joined Sigfried in the hallway. He stood before an open door. Beyond it was a blank wall. The princess tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips, frowning.
Rachel asked, “Did you ask for anything before you opened it?”
“Ask for something?” Siggy gawked at her as if she were bonkers. “I opened a door.”
Rachel stepped up and shut the door. “Swimming pool, please.”
The door opened into an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Girls frolicked in bathing suits. A boy jumped off the high dive. A group of young women walked out of the locker room. Rachel recognized some of the girls who had walked by with Joy’s sister.
“Bah…” Siggy’s eyes bulged. He covered his face with his hand. “Mustn’t look! Loyalty to Girlfrie
nd! Argh, the bikini cuteness!”
Rachel slammed the door.
“That’s…” Siggy gawked. “And you can get anything? Mansions? Xylophones?” His eyes glittered with gold lust. “A new fortune?”
Rachel shook her head. “Only gym equipment.”
“Gold gym equipment, please!” Siggy shut the door and yanked it open again. Inside was a small room, empty except for a set of golden golf clubs.
“All conjured,” explained Rachel. “It will vanish tomorrow.”
“Great! Twenty-four hours in which to spend it!” cried Sigfried.
Nastasia arched a perfect eyebrow. “Sir Knight, you would not rook the peasantry?”
“Er…of course not!” Sigfried frowned and whispered, “Lucky, this being a knight thing is harder than I expected.”
The princess gave Sigfried a long look, her lips pressed together, barely containing her mirth.
Lucky replied loyally, “That’s what makes it worth doing, Boss. Or so you tell me.”
“That’s how the gym works. It’s a very complicated spell, the most sophisticated of its kind in the world. It uses a mixture of conjuring and kenomancy to create temporary spaces and gear upon request,” Rachel explained, pushing the door shut on the golden golf clubs in spite of Sigfried’s whimper. “Practice room.” She opened the door a third time. Beyond lay a room with dueling strips, dummies on wheels, and other simple gear. “See.”
“Quite clever.” Nastasia nodded in approval. “Since you have so thoughtfully provided the room, shall we make use of it? We lost much study time due to our false detention.”
“You mean studying?” Sigfried asked suspiciously. “Or spell-slinging?”
Rachel giggled at the term spell-slinging. “She means the latter.”
They moved into the practice room. Sigfried dragged the practice dummies into the center of the room. Rachel spun in a circle, her robes floating about her. She felt so happy. She wished to share her happiness with her friends. If only she could do something for them.
“I know!” Rachel cried eagerly. “I can teach you the paralyze spell I used on Mordeau!”
Sigfried was not paying attention. He and Lucky were wrestling with a practice dummy. The princess looked dubious. “You mean the one you failed to use on Mordeau? You cast it down the hall, and she threw it back at you, freezing you, if I recall.”
Rachel pressed her lips together. She had not told her friends about how she had helped Dean Moth during her final battle with the dragon. Ordinarily, she would have shared this secret with the Inner Circle; however, Nastasia had already demonstrated that her loyalty to the dean was greater than her loyalty to Rachel. Telling Nastasia would be the same as telling Dean Moth.
“Yes, that one,” she said. “And, obviously, it works, as it froze me.”
“On top of all the other cantrips and enchantments we have to practice?” the princess frowned petulantly. “I think not. We should first master what we have already been taught.”
“But…” Rachel’s voice cracked with disappointment. “I-I thought you were upset that I learned that spell without you?”
Nastasia’s reluctance caught her entirely by surprise, leaving a hollow feeling where her overflowing joy had been. The princess had looked so envious when she discovered that Rachel knew an important spell she did not. Rachel had assumed her friend would be eager to learn it.
“Let us stick to the curriculum,” the princess sniffed disapprovingly. “I am certain our tutors know what they are doing when they issue assignments.”
Rachel hid any further reaction beneath her mask of calm. The princess took her calmness to be agreement. Reaching into her bag, Nastasia retrieved her violin and played the notes to summon a wind.
A blast of air, accompanied by silver sparkles and the scent of a spring garden, hurled the practice dummy against the far wall, where it bounced against the cement and rebounded a good two feet. Beside her, Sigfried blew his trumpet. A second wash of silver sparkles accompanied a second wind as a second dummy slammed into the wall with a tremendously loud bang.
Rachel felt heat creeping up in her cheeks. She had been practicing so hard, hours and hours and hours. But she still could not produce a wind a tenth of the strength of Nastasia’s or Sigfried’s. She was not sure she could even move the dummy, much less send it all the way to the wall. The idea of having her friends watch her feeble attempts filled her with shame.
“Um…you guys practice,” Rachel backed toward the door. “I’m going to bring my broom back to the room.”
Reaching the outside hallway, she hopped on her steeplechaser and fled.
• • •
Rachel did not go to her room. Instead, she headed to her favorite practice spot. Arriving in the abandoned hallway, she gave the suit of armor a pat and went to the small table with the rock on it. Taking a deep breath, she whistled. Enchantment tingled at her lips, tickling. Wind, accompanied by a swoosh of silvery sparkles and the scent of vanilla, pushed against the rock.
The rock did not budge. Her heart was not in it. Instead of concentrating, she kept picturing Nastasia and Sigfried slamming the dummies against the wall. Ashamed, she pulled herself together. She did not practice to be better than others. She practiced to be the best she could be. She whistled again. Silver sparkles pushed the rock. It sailed through the air, landing ten feet from the table. Using the lifting cantrip, she raised the rock and levitated it over to the table. Then she did this again and again and again.
To her disappointment, Gaius did not come by.
• • •
Rachel kept going until her lips went numb from the tingling of the magic. Picking up her broom, she jogged downstairs to the third floor, the uppermost floor that extended around the hollow rectangle of the main building. The empty hallway stretched away from her in both directions, beckoning. Her hand tightened around her broom. Her lips quirked into a tiny smile. Mounting the steeplechaser, she zoomed down the hallway.
Rachel loved flying. Even the euphoria of sudden understanding, her eureka moments, did not compare to the joy of flight. With a shout, she threw her weight to the side and jerked her broom, so that she spun horizontally—a move she called a star spin.
Hair whipping around her, she twirled down the center of the corridor, her face shining with happiness. Then, bending down low over the broom handle, she grinned with glee and flipped down and up again, straightening herself out in the process.
Now she barreled down the hallway—five miles an hour, ten, twenty, forty-five, faster. She raced around the great square that made up Roanoke Hall, the wind whipping through her hair. Abandoned papers flew up behind her, stirred by the broom’s enchanted wake.
Each corridor of the square of Roanoke Hall was more than a hundred meters long. This provided plenty of room to race and to practice cornering at full speed. Through the windows to her right, she could see students playing soccer on the field of the inner courtyard. To her left, classrooms flashed past in a high speed blur. She knew that the back leg was the home of school clubs with signs like: Treasure Hunters, Cook’s Broth, Saturday Night Probabilities Study Group, Roanoke Seers, Chess Masters.
As she continued around the square, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that many classrooms were empty. No books on the shelves. No tutor’s file cabinet. They contained nothing but a table, chairs, and dust. Thirty years ago, in her parents’ time, the academy had been full to brimming-over. Thousands of students had attended Roanoke. All the dormitories and classrooms had been in use.
Then came the Terrible Years.
The entire staff, except for art teacher Jacinda Moth (now dean of the school) and proctor Maverick Badger (now head of security), had fled when the Terrible Five seized the school—those who had not been killed in the initial conflict. The students had been left behind, prisoners of the Veltdammerung. After the enemy’s defeat, Roanoke shut its doors for the first time since 1624. When it opened again three years later, most of the tutors who h
ad fled were not invited to return. The first new class had consisted of a handful of students with a very small, hand-picked staff. The staff had been expanded greatly in the last two decades, but it was still less than a third of what it had been twenty-five years ago, before the Terrible Years.
With a last sorrowful glance at the abandoned classrooms, Rachel turned her attention back to flying. The third floor was deserted on this nice Sunday afternoon. The long stretches of open hallway provided little challenge. She was never happy sticking with what she had successfully mastered. Always, she wanted to strive for more, pushing herself to expand her abilities, to try something more daring, more difficult.
As she zoomed along, she considered how best to take the spiral staircase that led down to the lower floors. At home, the spiral staircases had an open area like a tube down the middle. Rachel had mastered the art of bending low over the shaft and shooting up or down through this hollow center. Here, the large steps circled around a solid column of marble. This would allow for new banking techniques. As she flew, she calculated different paths and effective avenues of attack.
She went up and down the stairs three times—first slowly, then twice as fast, and then finally at what she gauged to be about twenty-five miles an hour. She still was not happy with her approach. She was not negotiating the curves as well as she would have liked. She could not decide if she should fly in a curving spiral or in short straight bursts followed by sharp turns. She would have to do research to figure out which approach produced the least drag.
As she came up the stairs the third time, she saw that the doors into the third floor of the library were open. The library was unlikely to be crowded on the first Sunday afternoon of the school year. She recalled that it had a wide open area with a balcony that looked down on the lower levels. If she went through it, she could try a trick she occasionally used in the ballroom at home, when she wanted to move quickly from one floor to another.
Rachel zipped down the hall and into the library. She darted out over the open area, looking down at the lower floors. Then, she deliberately stalled out her broom—a move that would have been impossible on a modern bristleless, such as a Flycycle. On the old-fashioned Steeplechaser, it was easier than perhaps it should have been. The broom, with Rachel on it, dropped like a stone. The second story whipped by. The instant she was below it, she shifted her weight. The steeplechaser came to life and zoomed forward.
The Raven, The Elf, and Rachel (A Book of Unexpected Enlightenment 2) Page 26
