The Guardian Lineage

by Seth Z. Herman

  Then he was thrust into Central Park. A knife was being held at his neck, and he was struggling against it. Then the knife was released, and Mike saw Laura looking back at him with those gorgeous blue eyes… then it was the car ride back, the pain and ache in his heart so strong and real…

  That picture faded into the scene in Monster Hall, where Toadman had just finished his spells, and the vision continued uninterrupted until the end of the raid, when Mike reached his dorm room and headed for the shower.

  The images disappeared, and Mike was again sitting in the Headmage’s office. He looked around to make sure he had his bearings. Then his eyes fell on the Headmage.

  Garzan’s eyes were bloodshot, his face ashen. The horrible cheerleader horn rested silently on the side of the desk. Garzan’s hands trembled, and for a moment, Mike thought the Headmage was having a seizure.

  Then, slowly, Garzan began regaining his composure. The color returned to his face, although he was still quite pale. His breathing returned to normal, and Mike thought it would be safe for him to speak. He knew the answer to his question, but he had to ask it anyway.

  “What did you do to me?”

  Garzan’s eyes were heavy. He motioned to the silver instrument. “The Ubiquitor allows me to relive memories buried deep in your consciousness. As you experience your own thoughts from your own mind, I can feel them, as well, from inside your psyche.” His eyes clouded with liquid. “It is not a precise tool at all, and I’m afraid I had to probe more than I would’ve liked to find the appropriate memory. For that I must apologize. It is a horrible thing, to experience the pain of another. Especially the pain of a memory that has been buried by the mind, specifically because of that pain.”

  Mike felt like his very soul had been dissected, as if it was now naked and exposed. His mind was overcome with sadness, and his head weighed on his shoulders. He felt as if he had just experienced every single horrible thing that had ever happened to him.

  Garzan waved at the Ubiquitor in disgust. “It is a terrible form of black magic. But black art or not, if it will help protect the Guardian lineage, I will use it. I must find out how the Calebra got into Windham.”

  Mike shuddered. He could not stop thinking about the pain of losing his father, which he’d never remembered feeling before… or his guilt when he’d stolen the candy bar, or the embarrassment of getting dragged out of class… the anguish of losing Laura… he was overcome with raw emotion, raw heartache, as if someone had siphoned his heart and drawn out all its emotion…

  Garzan wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. All of a sudden, the Amp which had been on his desk started vibrating. Garzan slipped it over his head and pressed the gemstone. then nodded absentmindedly.

  “That will be all,” he said to Mike.

  Mike did not even have the strength to reply. As he stood, his whole body felt rigid. His eyes felt heavy, his limbs strained. All he wanted to do was collapse on the spot.

  “Get some rest,” Mike heard Garzan say behind him. His brain was all too happy to comply. He stumbled out the door and past the few students who were left. Mike realized he must’ve looked exactly like every other kid who came out of the Headmage’s office. He didn’t care.

  All he wanted to do was sleep, to escape from the pain inside.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Mike woke up in time for History, which was good because Stockton updated them on the Calebra attack. He said that Zachariah had been given a blood transfusion, but left the girls unmentioned, which was discomforting. Mike could only hope that in this case, no news was good news.

  He figured Stockton had eliminated the Calebra, although the Magus also did not make mention of that fact. Mike wanted to grill him on how he killed the little bugger, but at the end of the class Stockton promptly disappeared.

  So instead Mike spent Homeroom and Magical Detection in the library, hoping to read anything he could find about Dementae, the Brethren, or DuBois. He figured he’d have time to practice his attacking in his weaponry classes, and especially in Sparring, but he wanted to be as prepared as possible for a confrontation.

  He didn’t find anything about Dementae, but there was a ton on the Brethren. Apparently they were a society that had discovered the black arts almost a thousand years ago. It seemed they artificially implanted the black magic inside of them, as opposed to the Guardians, who received their magic from the Gargoyles when they swore to protect them. According to the textbook, the Brethren were lost souls, people who had nothing left, who turned to magic as a last resort. Usually they operated in rogue bands, abusing magic and its power, until a more powerful magician came along and organized—

  “You busy?”

  Mike looked up from his textbook to see Steph standing there, smiling down at him.

  Well… maybe the research can wait.

  A small bookbag hung from Steph’s shoulder, and sweaty hair was pulled back into a pony. She was wearing track pants and a white tank top, and she was red in the face, as if she had just been exercising.

  “Working out?” Mike asked.

  “If by working out you mean practicing my magical repertoire, then yes.”

  “Where? There’s a place to spar outside of Sparring class?”

  Steph shook her head and sat across from him. “Part of the medicine major is agility and stamina training. A lot of the healing spells sap a person’s energy, so the better shape you’re in, the more effective you are.” She looked at him strangely. “You don’t work out?”

  “Uh… sure I do.” Mike ran an arm over his bicep unconsciously, then stopped himself when he realized he looked stupid. “I mean, not since I got here, but…” He fiddled with the cover of his textbook, his face hot.

  He felt conflicted when it came to Steph. She was looking prettier these days, at least from what he remembered from their first few haphazard encounters. He knew why, but he didn’t dare voice it.

  Because back then, I was still going out with Laura.

  It still hurt him to think about it. His life had taken him on an emotional roller-coaster ride for the past week, through anger and self-pity and several other depressing moods, to the point where he felt like he was getting his period or something. If he could ever come close to figuring out what that was like, anyway.

  Mike blinked and rubbed his forehead, in an effort to shake him out of that awkward train of thought.

  “You okay?” Steph asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, fine.” Mike said. He looked at her – she had pretty eyes, dark and green. He tried to focus, tried to remember what they’d been talking about. “So you came over here because… you needed a break from studying?”

  Steph regarded Mike with an amused look. “I can’t just come over and talk to you?”

  “Um, right,” Mike said, which really was Chinese for maybe I’m just a guy who sucks at starting conversations, did you ever think about that?

  “Actually, I never did get a chance to ask you about the Calebra.” Steph smiled. “You’re too elusive, you know.”

  “I’m elusive? You’re the one I haven’t seen since Central Park.”

  Steph’s brow furrowed, and she looked at the table. “You don’t have to get upset about it.” She made to grab her bag from the floor, as if she was getting up to leave.

  “No, wait, hold on,” Mike said. “I didn’t mean… I was just… saying, you know, that I kinda… missed you.”

  Steph stood and wrapped the bag over her shoulder. “Yeah, well, good luck with your research, or whatever.” And with that she turned and left.

  Idiot! Mike thought as he watched her leave. You must be the most pathetic male on the face of the planet! Why are you so stupid? He pounded a fist against the table. Why would you tell her that? Stupid idiot moron brain…

  Shaking his head, Mike grabbed his textbook and threw it in his knapsack. He wasn’t going to be able to research anymore, not with his head flustered like this. He flung the chair under the workbench in frustration.

&nbs
p; Then he looked at the clock on the wall.

  It was time for Sparring.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Mike entered Sparring ready to taking out some unused aggression. But his mood darkened when he saw Steph standing all by herself, shadow boxing against the wall. He felt like he should apologize, even though he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d said, but before he could make his way over to her, Stockton started class.

  “For the past few days, you’ve been fighting one-on-one, and I must say you have all grown tremendously in your powers. But we should all be so lucky to encounter such a fight in the real world.”

  Mike noticed the Magus’s signature smirk was missing, and his lips were taut across his face. Which was strange, because he usually seemed to enjoy having his students’ limbs frozen or burned.

  A chill went down Mike’s spine. He wasn’t sure why, but all of a sudden he felt very uneasy.

  “Normally, Guardians are outnumbered, hopelessly outmatched. Aside, of course, from their ability to control the elements and a few large friends up in the sky.” Stockton pointed at the ceiling. “Today, most of you will get your first taste of what this means.” He held Mike’s eyes for a moment, then turned away.

  “We will now be fighting two-on-one.” A commotion broke out, but Stockton held a hand up to quiet it. “I will not give you any advice on how to survive. It will be up to you to figure that out.” Stockton’s nostrils flared. “You will be getting hurt. Hopefully, that will encourage you to hone your skills to the point where you will not be getting hurt.”

  Mike locked eyes with Aaron, whose dire expression said, kill me now.

  “For our purposes, I have only one rule. The first team to incapacitate their enemy is the winner.”

  Stockton went over to his bag and set up the water, electricity, and torch. Then he pulled out the list of students. He seemed to have recovered some of his swagger. “Let’s see, who do I hate most…”

  A few laughs went up from the crowd, but Stockton wasn’t smiling.

  In fact, his expression was almost scary.

  Okay, Magus, you can stop freaking me out now. Mike started biting his nails. Feel free to make a comment about how I’m descended from Rafael and condemning us all to death, or how my fireball sucks compares to yours. Any time now, really…

  “Caulderon,” he called.

  Aaron stepped forward, a grim smile on his face.

  “You get Minor. And Levine.”

  Mike actually expected the fight to last longer. Aaron was good, but he was no match for a double-team. As soon as the timer started Aaron went right after Levine, a cryo major with long hair. Minor stepped in front immediately, making Aaron confront the two of them head-on. This allowed Levine to swing around to the back and freeze both of Aaron’s arms in less than a minute’s time. The crowd applauded in respect, although not so much out of entertainment as much as a realization that it was going to be very hard for the single warrior to win.

  And so went most of the class. Each affair lasted less than a minute, with the single gladiator succumbing to the numbers game fairly quickly.

  Mike felt apprehensive during the entire class. Normally, Stockton watched the class with disinterest, smirking and gesturing when a student got lit up. But now Stockton looked totally distracted. He watched each bout with his arms crossed and eyebrows locked, while occassionally taking a peek at Mike. Which Mike noticed, obviously. Had something happened, something Stockton didn’t want Mike knowing about? Oh no, had something happened to his mom? No, they would’ve told him if she’d been hurt or something…

  “Prior.”

  Mike snapped out of his stupor. Okay, time to focus. Time for The King to teach everybody how to handle a two-on-one situation.

  Stockton reviewed the list, no doubt looking for two worthy opponents.

  “You get… Caulderon.”

  Mike detected a slight hesitation in the Magus’s voice. He tensed, wondering what the holdup was.

  Stockton folded up the list, and put it into his rucksack. Then he turned to Mike, a deadly serious expression on his face.

  “And Garzan.”

  “What?” The word escaped Mike’s lips as he stepped onto the arena floor. He was going to have to fight Aaron and the Headmage? What kind of maniacal idea was—

  Then he saw Steph walking onto the glossy floor, with the slightest of smirks on her face.

  Steph was Garzan. Garzan was Steph. Steph was… the Headmage’s daughter?

  Aaron’s jaw was open a little, too, as he walked backwards towards his ally. But Steph’s mouth was still pulled into a tight smile.

  She’s excited to hit me, Mike realized.

  Mike stood in the center of the room, his two adversaries perched on either side. Okay, this was a shock, but back to business. Who was he going to take out first…

  Aaron and Steph started circling him, like raptors eyeing their prey. Maybe he could hit both… no, that was insane, he had to pick one… maybe the one neither of them expected…

  Stockton yelled, “Fight!”

  Aaron and Steph launched simultaneous attacks, two bursts of electricity flying in Mike’s direction. He threw up surfboards with both his hands and deflected them both. Then he somersaulted in Aaron’s direction, holding both his shields out at him. Sure enough, a look of surprise appeared in Aaron’s black and blue eyes, and for an instant, he stopped firing.

  Mike sprung out of his somersault like a Transformer and ran straight for him, placing one hand on his chest and the other flat against his back, so that his shields covered most of his torso. He saw that Aaron, in his haste, had backpedaled all the way into a corner. Aaron refocused and fired furiously, like a Howitzer shooting in the desert.

  Mike charged Aaron at full speed… he was almost on top of him… then, instead of attacking with magic, Mike twirled and swung a jackknifed leg at Aaron’s head. Aaron had the wherewithal to stop shooting and put his arms up like a boxer, but the force of the blow still knocked him down. Mike landed on top of his prey, feeling like a karate champion about to be crowned.

  Okay, fine, I’ll use magic now.

  Mike readied to ice Aaron’s arms and make this a one-on-one.

  But he didn’t get the chance. In his haste to eliminate Aaron, he had shifted the shield on his back a little to the side. A bolt from Steph nailed him in the shoulder blade, and Mike flew backwards against the wall, head colliding with stone with a sickening thud. His whole body shook, frayed with energy, his limbs shaking like a bobble head doll. Black splotches appeared in his line of sight, and Mike fought to stay conscious. He turned to see Steph rear back to fire again. An explosion of light jumped from her hands, and then all Mike knew was the sensation of energy impacting his chest.

  It was like nothing he had ever felt before. As if the energy had penetrated his heart, burrowing under his skin, searching for something to destroy.

  He vaguely saw Steph’s expression change from focused to worried. Then he lost the strength to stand, and everything went black.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Mike awoke in a hospital bed, an IV in his arm and the plump nurse attending to his chest. The clock on his nightstand told him it was a few minutes past three in the morning. Fluorescent bulbs flooded his eyes like spotlights, and the nauseating smell of medicinal alcohol filled his nostrils. Mike resisted the urge to gag.

  The nurse was unwrapping some sort of bandage on his pectoral, the kind that stuck to his hair and ripped it out by the root.

  “Ow!” Mike yelled. Then he felt it in his head, a brutal mixture of heavy metal drumming and jackhammer digging. He closed his eyes, begging for it to stop.

  “You had a nasty concussion, dear,” the nurse drawled. “And these burns on your chest are pretty serious, too.” She shook a finger in the air at no one in particular. “One after the next! I’m going to have to tell Magus Stockton to tone it down a bit with his Sparring. He never listens, never listens.”

  The nurse walked
away, muttering about how nobody took her seriously. Mike turned onto his side and groaned, wishing he were somewhere else.

  Wait – one after the next? Who else… oh.

  Mike looked over to see a stocky teenager sleeping in the bed to his left. His face was pale, and his arm was bandaged so thick that it looked like he had a football stuck underneath the tape.

  The Calebra bite. Jeez, that’s some wound.

  Then Mike noticed the box. It was arranged neatly on his nightstand, next to the clock. The two-word inscription on the top read: Sorry, Steph.

  Careful not to tangle up his IV cord, Mike peeled back the plastic and opened the box.

  Chocolates.

  How sweet.

  He popped one into his mouth.

  Caramels.

  Great call by Steph.

  The Headmage’s daughter.

  Mike swallowed and grabbed another chocolate, kicking himself for being so dull. How had he missed the signs? She had her own schedule. She was always at Sparring class, yet she never fought, probably because she was too powerful for it. She disappeared for long periods of time, and nobody said anything.

  It was so friggin’ obvious.

  But something bothered him. If Steph was Garzan’s daughter, why hadn’t the two of them interacted more in the Headmage’s office? She was involved in the raid on Central Park – but the Headmage hadn’t said a word to her the entire time.