Quest Maker

by Laurie McKay

  Rosa’s cheek twitched. “I’ve told you,” she said. “No swords in the house.”

  “One day you’ll reconsider.”

  “Go to school, Caden.”

  Once in the building, Tito and Brynne went to prepare for the spelling contest, but Jane walked with Caden to his locker. Unlucky twelve-four was smudged. Truly, it was cursed with muck. There was another note inside—a pink one, not one from his brother. The locker was also cursed with pink notes. He put the note with the stack.

  Beside him, Jane rummaged in her backpack. She was dressed in the colors of spring—pale yellows and greens. Her hair was combed over her ears as if she wanted to hide their slight elfish points. She pulled a small kitchen whisk from her pack. It looked suspiciously like the one Rosa used to make her eggs. “I enchanted it.”

  He grabbed his reading book from his locker. “So you’ve moved from the office to the kitchen?”

  She handed the whisk to him. In his left hand he held his reading book, in his right, the enchanted whisk. His right fingers started to tingle.

  “It’s who I am,” she said.

  True, enchanters enchanted. That was why they never lived long. Caden had hoped the discipline and rigor of the Elite Paladin path might help Jane control it, but that hope was dimming.

  “Don’t worry,” Jane said. “The smaller the enchantment, the less life force required.” She looked proud. “Brynne and I figured it out.”

  If anyone knew about lack of control, Caden supposed it was Brynne. Still, Brynne’s magic worked differently from Jane’s. “You don’t know that for certain,” he said.

  “I’m mostly certain,” she said. “And this way it’s measured. I won’t accidentally enchant something like Tito’s necklace again. I won’t burn myself out.”

  The power in the whisk felt more intense than Caden’s magical chain of paper clips, more intense than Tito’s necklace of protection. He frowned and offered it back to her.

  “Keep it for now,” she said. “The enchantments work better when I give them away.”

  “Are you certain it’s a small enchantment?”

  “More powerful ones are harder to detect.”

  He swished it in the air. Nothing happened. “What does it do?”

  “It mixes things.”

  Jane seemed more impressed by the item than he was. Still, it was enchanted. Caden deemed it magic item one hundred and thirty-one, the Enchanted Whisk of Mixing, and stuck it in his inside pocket. Now he had three magical items. No one had three magical items. He stood up a little straighter.

  A group of eighth graders walked by them. He heard a girl say, “Did you see the new gym teacher?” One of the boys added, “He keeps killing the basketballs.” They broke into giggles and whispers.

  Caden looked down at the floor. The tiles looked gritty and needed to be mopped. How could Jasan have been banished? Rath Dunn said his brother was a traitor. The dagger that had killed Chadwin was here, and Jasan had denied nothing.

  Jane touched his arm. She seemed to have guessed his thoughts. “The lunch witches used my memory of my mother against me,” she said. “Don’t let Mr. Rathis make you doubt your brother, Caden. Mr. Rathis is the villain.” She glared at a short, stout teacher opening a classroom door. “Don’t trust any of them.”

  “I don’t,” Caden said. He got out his cleaning cloth and wiped the fingerprints from the locker door. When he next spoke, he kept his voice low. “I don’t understand how Jasan could have been banished.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Then talk to him. He could help us with the quest.”

  If Jasan knew Caden had taken such a quest, he’d be furious. He might lock Caden away and try to fight Ms. Primrose. “Perhaps,” he said.

  “If it’ll help, you can give the whisk to him.”

  So that was why she’d handed it to Caden. It was a present, possibly a peace offering, for Caden to give Jasan. “A kind offer,” he said.

  Although Jane was intent on revenge against the lunch witch, she was often kind and brave. Truly, Caden should have knighted her. It was a terrible oversight. With Jasan in Asheville, however, Jasan was the topmost Razzonian royal. Jasan would have to do it and Caden wasn’t sure if he would. He wasn’t sure of much these days.

  “Let’s find him,” Caden said.

  When they turned the corner, however, Ms. Primrose stood in front of them, a stern expression etched into her features. She shifted her gaze from Caden to Jane, and her stomach rumbled. She didn’t laugh it off.

  “You know the rules, dears,” she said.

  Jane shivered as if cold breath had touched her neck. “We know,” Jane said.

  Ms. Primrose tapped a timepiece on her wrist. “Don’t be late. Punctuality is important.”

  Well, Caden could only agree with that. Still. “We’re not late yet.”

  “But you will be in ninety-four seconds.”

  That seemed somewhat exact.

  “Ninety-three,” she said. As she said it, her teeth looked bright white, pointed, and like they could rip flesh. She noticed him looking and covered her mouth. “It’s impolite to stare.” She narrowed her cold, pale eyes. “Ninety-two.”

  She pointed Jane toward the English classroom, and Jane smartly hurried to it. Then Ms. Primrose grabbed Caden by the elbow—he was tired of people and old dragons doing that—and led him to the reading room.

  The light in the hall turned as blue as a snow tortoise shell. Ms. Primrose stopped in front of the classroom door. Her skin shimmered with scales. Her hair, her shadow, everything about her seemed reptilian. Her gaze lingered on Caden like he was a tasty bit of roasted rabbit.

  “Dear,” she said, and her tone had an edginess that was unfamiliar. “Have you completed my quest yet? Do you have proof? Two days have passed.”

  “I have five more,” he said. For the first time since he’d taken the quest, he wondered if it helped Ms. Primrose keep herself under control. After all, she’d said even she was bound by the agreements made in forgotten tongues. “Until my time is up, you can’t eat me, Jasan, or any other student or parent.” He spoke softly, the way he talked to Sir Horace when Sir Horace was spooked. “This was our contract.”

  “If you neglect your studies and break my rules, I can still punish you,” she said. “I can turn you into a cat, keep you in my office, and eat you when your time runs out.”

  Could she turn him into a cat? Well, she’d turned herself into an old lady, so it seemed possible. He eyed her. There was something he’d often wondered. “May I ask you a question?”

  She huffed a bit and checked her watch. “Thirty-three seconds. I suppose I can answer one question,” she said.

  In the legends about the Elderdragons, they were described as young and beautiful. But Ms. Primrose always appeared as an old lady. “If you can transform yourself into anything you wish,” Caden said, “why an old lady?”

  She bristled, but she had given him permission to ask. “I can appear as a human, but I transform into my version of a human. I’m old in any form I take. If I were to turn you into a cat, you’d certainly be a loud, yowling kitten. Another question like that, and you’ll see firsthand.”

  “I understand,” Caden said.

  “You had better. And you had better find who dares embarrass me, so I can have someone for dinner. If not, I’ll eat you and your brother.” Some of her power seemed to pull back. She ran a gnarled hand over the door and knocked. “Above all else, my school is my most precious treasure.”

  Mr. McDonald opened the door just as the late bell rang. Ward and Tonya sat at their computers. When Mr. McDonald saw Ms. Primrose, he blanched. Truth be told, he’d been acting odd recently. Some days, although not many, he’d actively taught Caden reading. He’d been working with Tonya on her stuttering, and he’d tried to engage Ward in conversation at least twice. His fear of Ms. Primrose seemed to be exponentially increased.

  “His reading is improving,” Mr. McDonald said, and it sounded
like a plea for mercy.

  “It better be,” Ms. Primrose said, and Caden saw the sharp glint of her teeth again. “You need to start doing your job. My school’s reputation is everything to me.” Her stomach rumbled. “Otherwise, I’ll eat you.”

  Ward and Tonya both looked up at that.

  Mr. McDonald seemed ready to cower behind the nearest computer. “Yes, ma’am.”

  After she left, Mr. McDonald remained shaky. “We’re going to watch the spelling bee today.” He was taking deep breaths. “It’s required.” He looked from Caden to Tonya to Ward. “If you have any questions, ask me.”

  The auditorium was a large space. Two aisles divided thirty rows of creaky wooden seats into three sections. Mr. McDonald directed Caden, Tonya, and Ward to a middle row on the left side.

  The ceiling was high. Exposed oak beams stretched from side to side like the giant growth limbs of wood elementals. In the rear, exits led into the school’s back hallway. In the front, there was a podium and stage. On each side of the stage, exits opened to outdoors. Future Elite Paladins always noted exits.

  A few parents sat in reserved seats in the rear. Students fidgeted in the rest of the rows. As Mr. Bellows was moderating, his English class—including Jane—sat with Mrs. Belle and her morning science students. Caden leaned back.

  A spelling contest was a waste of his royal time. He didn’t understand the purpose of a competition that included no swords, spears, or horses. And he had a quest to complete.

  At the podium, Brynne ran fingers through her long hair and glared at Mr. Bellows. It was as if she was daring him to try to cut it again. Her clothes were shades of purple, and her eyes shone silver under the stage lights.

  A slight smirk tipped Mr. Bellows’s thin lips. He hissed the first word. “Fratricide.”

  Caden felt his face heat. He knew the word. He was gifted in speech; he knew most words. “Fratricide” meant brother killing brother, but he’d no idea how to spell it. The word seemed to hang like a dagger from the beams above.

  Three rows up, Rath Dunn turned, caught Caden’s gaze, and smiled.

  One day, Caden would bring them to justice. He looked away. When he did, his breath left him. Jasan sat in a back left seat. It seemed he’d also been told to watch the spelling bee.

  The other teachers had been in Asheville longer than Caden. They’d had time to learn the language, and Caden suspected had used charms, tricks, and magic to speak and read it. Jasan had been here mere days. And he wouldn’t use tricks to learn the language. Elite Paladins didn’t deceive. As Ms. Primrose would say, it wasn’t in their natures.

  As such, Jasan didn’t react to the word—he didn’t understand it—but his gaze slid from Rath Dunn to Caden and turned as cold as ice-covered rock. Jasan was being taunted in a language he didn’t understand, and in a land in which he didn’t belong. There was nothing fair or just about that.

  Then again, maybe it wasn’t Jasan being taunted. Maybe it was Caden. After all, Caden understood the hard-to-spell words.

  On stage, Brynne looked caught between terrified and livid. She twisted her hands together. Her gaze darted from Jasan to Rath Dunn to Caden, and finally to Mr. Bellows at the front. “Fratricide,” she said, and it sounded like the word tasted foul on her tongue. “F-R-A-T-R-I-C-I-D-E, fratricide.”

  In contrast to Brynne’s sleek beauty, Mr. Bellows was worn looking. “Correct,” he said, but there was nothing correct about fratricide.

  As Brynne returned to her stage seat, Tito shuffled to the podium. Caden needed to clear his head. He wanted to keep thoughts of fratricide far away.

  Caden relaxed his hands and concentrated on the sounds around him—students whispering, teachers shuffling papers, a soft buzzing of activity. He listened more carefully. Buzzing? He sat up straight.

  Something was actually buzzing.

  It sounded like a bee—the stinging Ashevillian equivalent of a Greater Realm crater wasp. Caden held back a shudder. When he’d been seven, he’d fallen into a crater wasp nest. The resulting fourteen welts had hurt for weeks.

  Rosa had assured him that there were no actual bees in an Ashevillian spelling bee. Though why the odd people of this world would call a spelling contest a “bee,” Caden had no idea. Perhaps the buzzing was part of the show? He turned toward Ward and Tonya.

  Ward scowled at Caden. Obviously, Ward wanted him to keep quiet. Caden, however, didn’t want to keep quiet. “Do you hear that buzzing?” he said.

  Ward ignored him. Tonya huddled down in her chair and set her notepad in her lap. Onstage, Brynne was in her chair still glancing from Jasan to Rath Dunn and chewing on her bottom lip. If she heard the buzzing, she showed no indication of it. For his part, Jasan had turned his glower upward and was tracking something in the rafters.

  Caden followed Jasan’s line of sight and felt his eyes go wide. A single bee zigzagged near the ceiling. Truly, Caden hated bees. Matter of point, he hated all creatures that stung. He nudged Tonya with his elbow. “There,” he warned.

  Tonya looked worried, but before Caden could comfort her, Mr. McDonald leaned forward from the row behind and thumped Caden with his book. “Quiet,” he said.

  Caden did keep quiet. He mustn’t show fear of insects while Rath Dunn, his great enemy and math teacher, sat just a few rows in front of him. Rath Dunn was the one to fear, not the bee. One bee Caden could shoo away or, if necessary, squash beneath his boot. Besides, he needed to support his foster brother, Sir Tito, and his ally Brynne by paying attention to the pointless contest.

  From the front, Mr. Bellows’s cruel voice echoed. “The word,” he said with reverence, “is ‘sedition.’”

  Sedition. Pertaining to treachery, subversion, and treason. No doubt a word Rath Dunn enjoyed. The meaning was clear enough, but like most words, Caden had no clue how to spell it. Truly, English was more complicated than the wiggly written language of the gnomes.

  Tito didn’t spell the word right away. Instead, he said, “Can you use it in a sentence?”

  “Among royal heirs, sedition is common,” Mr. Bellows said.

  “Um. Okay,” Tito said.

  Tonya wrote the word on her paper. At the podium, Tito spelled it with the same letters. She was good with words. If she had more confidence, and was not embarrassed by her stutter, she would be on stage competing. She saw him look at her notebook, and turned the ripe red of an Ashevillian apple.

  “Correct,” Mr. Bellows said.

  Although Tito had strictly forbidden Caden from cheering, clapping, or “any other weird thing you think about” as support, Caden felt the need to show solidarity. The villains wouldn’t win. They would be stopped. Caden nodded his approval and raised his fist in victory. Nodding and fist raising weren’t cheering, clapping, or weird. From the stage, Tito gave him a withering look.

  From the back of the auditorium, Jane clapped. As Tito returned to his chair, he smiled. It seemed Jane was allowed to clap. In the brief silence that followed, Caden heard more buzzing.

  A second, more devious-looking bee flew overhead. He nudged Tonya, and he snapped his fingers to get Ward’s attention. “Two bees.” One bee was not such a problem. Two bees was the beginning of one. Once there were three, he’d have too few feet to squash them.

  Caden turned, caught Jasan’s gaze, and pointed to the insects. Jasan was allergic to stinging things. Best he be aware of the double danger.

  Jasan stared for a moment, then stood and stepped out the back exit. It was the smart thing to do. They should evacuate. Caden told Mr. McDonald.

  “It’s springtime—bees will get in sometimes. Sit and listen. I don’t want any trouble from you today.”

  Caden sank into his seat and tilted his head back. He closed his eyes. He wouldn’t look at the bees or Rath Dunn’s round shiny head. He wouldn’t think about his brother Chadwin lying warm but unmoving with a dagger in his back. He wouldn’t think about Jasan or the two bees flying around, or the fact that he and Jasan might be devoured in five days.
r />   Then something landed on his forehead.

  Beside him, he felt Tonya fidget. “C-c-caden?” she said. “There’s a b-b—”

  A bee. There was a bee on his forehead.

  With great care, Caden opened his eyes, raised his hand, and flicked the bee away. He looked up. His heartbeat quickened. The number of bees had multiplied. They darted from backstage, in and out of the beams, and crisscrossed in short, heated paths.

  Others in the auditorium were looking up now. Students pointed. Rath Dunn shielded his eyes with a paper and peered at the swarm. On stage, Brynne looked surprised, and Tito looked irritated. Mr. Bellows released an angry screech at the disruption of his spelling contest.

  Caden pulled Tonya and Ward down to the gritty auditorium floor. He could hear Rath Dunn shouting orders. “Stay calm,” he was saying. “Move toward the nearest exit. Slowly, people. Calmly.”

  Typically, Rath Dunn was drama and threats; he was machinations and scheming. The tone he used now was different. It was a general’s tone. It was a tone to be followed. Those two sides of Rath Dunn were why he was so dangerous and why he’d almost conquered Caden’s home of Razzon.

  Caden peeked over the row in front of him. Rath Dunn directed students with a slight smirk. Tito, Brynne, and the other spelling bee finalists were out of their chairs and shuffling toward the left front exit. Across the auditorium, Mrs. Belle was leading Jane’s class out the auditorium’s back door at a quick clip.

  The large room was halfway empty when the swarm became unnatural. It became so dense it darkened the room. Faces seemed to form from the cloud of swirling insects—faces Caden knew. First Mr. Bellows. Then Rath Dunn. Mr. McDonald. Finally students: Derek, Tonya, Caden, more.

  Suddenly, as if controlled by an unseen master, the swarm dived at Mr. Bellows. He swatted bee after bee dead, then held out his hand. A rotten aura surrounded his bony fingers. The fallen bees reanimated and surrounded him like a protective shield. He was using necromancy—the forbidden art of death and reanimation. Even crouching rows away, Caden smelled the corpse-like scent of it.