Shadowed by Death

by Jane Beckstead

  best that your father leaves?”

  My eyebrows raised in surprise. “Why?”

  “Because…he’s your father. He’s been a pleasant addition

  around here, I thought.”

  “You do?”

  “With his wit?” she grinned. “He must have kept you in

  stitches growing up.”

  “Not really.” Then I remembered that I’d pledged to forgive

  him and move past the bad times. Besides, there had been fun

  times. And it was no wonder he’d grieved for so long, after what

  had happened to Mama.

  I thought of the weight I’d felt lifted from my shoulders

  during the thirteenth trial. Perhaps it didn’t have to be only

  in the trial, in the dream. Maybe I could make it happen in real

  life too. Or at least try.

  “My own father died in a milling accident in Southburg. How

  I wish I’d been there then. Maybe I could have stopped it from

  happening, or at least been there to comfort him in the end.” “Maybe you’re right,” I murmured, and bit into my scone. ***

  Back up to Papa’s room, and I knocked softly on his open

  door before stepping inside. Papa stood at his bed tying his

  belongings into a tight bundle.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Best just to come out with it. I took a breath and opened Best just to come out with it. I took a breath and openedBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 292

  my mouth. “I don’t want you to leave.” He watched me with a guarded expression. “Why? So you can keep me under your thumb a little while longer? Prevent me from having any fun? Take away all my pleasures one by one?”

  “No. Because you’re my father. If you leave, the person who tried to kill you before might be successful on their second try. I don’t want that to happen.”

  Papa blinked at me, clearly surprised by my words. “I’ve gotten under your skin haven’t I?” he said at last. “You’ve gotten used to having me around. You like me.”

  The words irritated me, but I tried to shake the ridiculous feeling off. “Maybe,” I admitted. “But don’t get used to it. Knowing you, it could change at any moment.”

  He put down his bundle. “If I stay,” he said. “If. You have to trust me once in a while.”

  “Very well,” I said. “I think I can do that.”

  He folded his arms. “And I want to learn to read.”

  The statement caught me off guard. “You do?”

  “Yes. And maybe if I want to write a book, one that’s not on a forbidden topic, I want to be allowed to.”

  “Fine,” I conceded. “I don’t see why not. I’ll even teach you how to read myself.”

  “Oh no you won’t. We’d end up killing each other if you did that. Think about it.”

  After a pause I nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Maybe After a pause I nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. MaybeBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 293

  Master Wendyn would do it.”

  “Maybe he would, at that. He’s a bit bossy, but underneath

  he has a good soul, I think, this Garrick of yours.” “He’s not mine.”

  “Yes he is,” Papa said. “He just doesn’t know it yet.” I flushed.

  # CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO By the next trial day, Papa was well on his way to reading. He carried my old primer around with him everywhere he went, exclaiming about the odd shapes of letters and how was one to remember all the combined sounds and “Really, with all the advancements of our age you’d think the world would have come up with a simpler way to communicate by now.”

  I, meanwhile, had spent days trying to prepare myself for the pain of trial fourteen, mastery over discomfort. I’d put myself through pain spells of every variety, spent time in introspection while trying to toughen my mental resolve, and even practiced deep breathing.

  This was the trial Rumford and Colwyn had taken twice. The This was the trial Rumford and Colwyn had taken twice. The

  Beckstead / Shadowed by Death / 294 trial I dreaded with every fiber of my being.

  “You’ll do fine,” the master muttered in my ear, one hand

  on my shoulder, as we stood in the testing room waiting for my

  turn. “This trial is only a matter of endurance. As long as you

  don’t cry out too much or become lost in the pain, everything

  will be fine.” His hand tightened on my shoulder, and I wondered

  if he truly believed the words he’d said.

  “At least I won’t have to take the trial twice. Not like

  Rummy and Colwyn.”

  “Yes,” Master Wendyn said. “No danger of that.” My trial preparation did seem to have increased my capacity

  for pain. The last few times I had cast a pain-simulating spell

  upon myself, I had managed to cry out much less than when I

  first began.

  Nerves built, and not just from me. I could tell the master

  was nervous when I looked over and actually saw him biting his

  fingernails—something I’d never seen him do before. Did he

  really have so little faith in me?

  Finally the proctor called out my name, and the master and

  I took our places on the dais. The formalities wherein we talked

  about my biographical information and emotional growth—generally

  my least favorite part of any trial—passed far too quickly for

  my liking. I almost wished I could call that part of the trial

  back when the proctor finished scribbling notes on his

  parchment, look up at me, and said, “And now for the pain parchment, look up at me, and said, “And now for the painBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 295

  spell.” I braced for it—and then caught myself. In all my practice at the Hall I’d found that bracing only made the pain worse. Better to stay relaxed.

  It began slowly, just pins and needles at first, pinpricks in my head and arms, shooting pains in my limbs, aches in my joints. Then it settled deeper, turning into pain in my belly, a thumping in my skull, and the feel of needles jabbed into my skin.

  I recognized the pain. It felt familiar. These were spells I knew and had endured before.

  Breathe, Avery. Stay in control.

  I breathed. I stayed in control. Finally the pain lessened and I felt myself relax. I hadn’t even noticed that I’d tensed against it, unintentionally.

  That was the first stage finished. Now to shift to the second stage. It lasted the longest and would be the most uncomfortable. I just had to not lose myself in it.

  I cringed at the feeling of a knife stabbing through my back. Flames licked at my calves. My arms smarted like a whip had cracked across them.

  The pain worsened, climbing through my whole body. From the tips of my fingers to the follicles on my head, everything hurt. It was like the time I fell over the waterfall, the smack when I hit the bottom and the water pulled me under. The pain tugged at hit the bottom and the water pulled me under. The pain tugged atBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 296

  me now, trying to pull me under. I breathed through it, counting. It should only last sixty seconds. I just had to last sixty seconds.

  My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands. My eyes squeezed shut. My lips squeezed shut. I would not cry out.

  That was good. Thirty seconds. Halfway.

  I kept counting. The pain didn’t build here, it just sustained, the same steady thumping pain, like a hammer to my entire body.

  At forty-five seconds a whimper escaped my throat, a sound I wasn’t proud of. My entire body was tensed now, braced against the pain, trying to fight it off. Don’t cry out don’t cry out don’t cry out Avery, don’t you dare cry out.

  I continued to breathe, though my breaths came faster and I could tell but couldn’t seem to slow them down. Almost there. Almost there.

  Sixty. The
pain would begin to die down now, unless I had counted too fast.

  I clenched my fists, waiting for the pain to die, waiting to relax.

  The pain didn’t end. If anything, it seemed to build. It felt like nails were being hammered into my skull, molten fire poured into my belly. Agony tangled with the air in my lungs.

  I dropped to my knees. There was no counting now, no need for it. Surely it would end now. I had miscounted somehow, but for it. Surely it would end now. I had miscounted somehow, butBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 297

  it must end now. Pain clawed its way through me, pointy-nailed fingers digging at my insides. I felt hot all over. Cold all over. I was going to vomit. I was going to pass out.

  Voices now on the dais, voices I couldn’t seem to comprehend. Was one of them the master’s?

  Breath came too fast. Every part of me pounded and seared and scorched with hurt and I couldn’t keep the scream in, though I knew I had to and bit down hard on my lip when it tried to come out. But it escaped somehow anyway, a long, thin cry.

  Shaking. All of me was shaking. I couldn’t make it stop and couldn’t make the pain stop and I was wrong—I couldn’t pass this trial. It was too much. Too much.

  The floor pulled me down. Dark reached arms to me, and I gladly stepped into its embrace.

  ***

  I awoke in an unfamiliar room, lying prone on a low cot. Master Wendyn hovered near, the only other person I could see in the room.

  “Avery?” He loomed nearer at the flutter of my eyelids.

  I moved around experimentally on the cot and made a grunting noise.

  His hands came down on my shoulders, and he looked me in the face, giving me a little shake. “Avery, you’ve got to get up and awake fast. The Council has a doctor on the way to examine you.”

  I shook my head, then wished I hadn’t. My eyes fluttered closed. “I’m…fine,” I managed. “I’m awake.”

  “You’re going to have to do better than that,” he said, coming around behind me. “Come on.” He pushed me up into a sitting position and sat on the cot behind me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, wiping a hand over my face. “I thought I was ready. I thought I could pass it.”

  “It wasn’t you. Someone broke through the boundary of the testing dais and sabotaged the spell they put on you. It was never meant to be so painful.” His hands tightened on my shoulders. “And I can guess who did it.”

  “Ingerman,” I whispered.

  “Yes. Or whoever it really is. Come on. Feet over the side.” He hooked his arms under my armpits and pushed me to my feet. Just as he did, the door opened. “You’re fine,” he muttered, stepping away. “Remember that.”

  A lanky blond wizard entered carrying an examination bag. “I’m Master Brinton. Here to look after the underwizard.” He eyed me.

  “He’s just fine,” Master Wendyn said. “Aren’t you?”

  Brinton raised an eyebrow at me and waited.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m quite all right. The pain was… unexpected, but I’m fully recovered now.”

  “Still,” Brinton said, setting his bag down. “I should take a look.”

  I took a step backward. “That’s completely unnecessary, I assure you. Besides, I’m anxious to—” I searched for some pressing engagement I needed to get to. “—to get back out there and finish my trial.”

  He considered me for a moment, then shrugged and picked up his bag. “Just as well. There are more injuries to deal with.”

  “More?” Master Wendyn asked.

  “Hammond Ecklebert’s been injured,” he said over his shoulder. “There was a full wizard’s battle on the front steps a few minutes ago. Strange happenings today.” He exited the way he had come.

  Master Wendyn let out a breath. “Here, sit down.”

  I sagged onto the cot. “Did you hear that? Ingerman attacks me and then someone attacks Ecklebert? The two things have to be connected. She must really be Rumford’s mother.”

  “It could be,” he said. “Stranger things have happened, even today.”

  After a few minutes the test proctor knocked and entered.

  “Master Brinton says that you refused treatment.”

  “Yes, I feel fine,” I said briskly, coming to my feet.

  “That’s a relief. It doesn’t look well at all for this sort of thing to happen at the Conclave. If it makes you feel any better, it’s never happened before that someone broke through the boundary spell. Council guards have done a thorough top-tobottom examination of the building, and whoever the prankster bottom examination of the building, and whoever the pranksterBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 300

  is, they’ve fled and taken their illicit spells with them. The dais is sabotage free.”

  “That’s a relief,” I said weakly. I had made history in the Conclave, but not for anything I’d done.

  “The Council wishes to express their sorrow to you that

  this happened. Now, if you’re feeling up to it, we can commence

  your trial again.”

  I tensed without meaning to. “Wait. Do I have to take that

  trial again?”

  Master Wendyn’s hand rested on my shoulder, probably

  because of how astonished I sounded. “It only makes sense,

  Avery. The Council and testing committee have to ensure the

  testing process is untainted.”

  The proctor nodded. “Exactly right.”

  My stomach sank to my toes. “Oh.”

  “So since you seem to be feeling better, shall we get

  started?” The proctor moved toward the door.

  “I can’t believe,” I muttered to Master Wendyn as we left

  the room, “I’m going to have to take it twice.”

  ***

  My second try at mastery over discomfort turned out the way

  the first should have, with a little more than sixty seconds of

  pain and a pass from the judges. The effort exhausted the rest

  of my strength, and it was fortunate that it was such a short

  walk from the trial room to our wizard door. The master let me walk from the trial room to our wizard door. The master let meBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 301

  lean on him once we arrived back at the Hall, one arm around my back and the other supporting my elbow. I snuggled into him, determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

  Unfortunately for me, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Go on up and get some rest,” he said, dropping his arm and stepping back. “I’ll have Cat send some food up.”

  Disappointed that the distance between the master’s study and the staircase wasn’t further, I climbed the stairs to my room and laid down on my bed.

  I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not on a mid-afternoon day, and after everything that had happened. I’d never be able to sleep.

  My eyes slid closed.

  ***

  I awoke shivering and wet. Gale force winds whipped the air

  around me, and sleet slapped me in the face.

  Where was I? Had I somehow ended up outside?

  Darkness surrounded me, disorienting and complete. I

  spelled a light into my hand and lifted it, surveying my surroundings. The bedspread I’d fallen asleep on still lay beneath me. Rivulets of water ran down the walls of my bedroom and pooled on the floor. The clothes in my open wardrobe rattled on their hangers.

  A dream, that was all it was. A bad dream. Any moment now Valerie and the master would walk by hand in hand, the way all Valerie and the master would walk by hand in hand, the way all

  Beckstead / Shadowed by Death / 302 these dreams ended.

  The bone-deep chill certainly felt real, though. I pushed myself to a sitting position just as the sleet

  turned to snow. Flakes tickled my skin and settled, picking up speed. Soon the snow came so thick and fast that I could hardly see the door.

  From outside, the noise of shouting reached my ears. This was no nightmare.
<
br />   I swung my legs over the side of the bed and staggered

  toward the door. Water and snow puddled in a wet mix that I sloshed through in my stocking feet. I slipped in the slush and went down, but it only took a moment to jump back on my feet. At last I managed to get the door open and stumbled into the lit corridor.

  It was snowing out here too. What in the three kingdoms had happened?

  Now that I was a little more awake, a possible explanation came to me—Ivan and his weather spells. He must have made some terrible error in judgment to have created a storm of this size. Two steps to the left brought me to his bedroom door, and I shoved it open, holding my light high to see in the darkness of the room.

  No Ivan.

  Frustrated, I staggered to the staircase and down, slipping in the slush every few steps, while the wind continued to buffet in the slush every few steps, while the wind continued to buffetBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 303

  and pound at me, pushing at me from every direction. “Ivan!” I shouted at the bottom of the stairs, pushing

  forward against the squall.

  All at once the storm quieted. I came to a stop where I

  stood, there in the main corridor in my stocking feet, soaked to

  the skin and shivering. “Ivan?”

  From the direction of the sitting room, something thumped

  loudly. I moved toward the sound, and moments later a trembling

  servant girl crept out.

  “They were in the library, I think, sir.” She trembled as

  she stood there, her wet hair pasted to her head.

  “Ivan and Master Wendyn?” I asked.

  “No, sir,” she said, blinking at me. “The master went out.” “What? To where?” Then I held up a hand. “No, never mind.

  That’s not important right now.” I looked around. “See what you

  can do about drying this place out, all right?” I swiveled and

  headed for the library. It was an unfair request and I knew it,

  but it was the only thing I could think to do at the moment. The library door didn’t want to open, thanks to the amount

  of sludgy snow piled up in front of it, but finally I

  accomplished the task. The inside of the library seemed worse