by V. St. Clair
They were finally clear of the thickest part of the forest, and the grass was mercifully short and relatively free of brush. It almost seemed like there were paths intentionally kept clear so that humans could navigate easily, but Hayden could see no reason why the Masters would have made it easy on them like this and remained on his guard.
Despite the fact that he was scanning the area and listening for sounds, he was startled when a man dropped down from a tree they were passing and landed on his feet right in front of them.
“Whoa!” Zane leapt back and put a hand to his chest in surprise. “Sorry, man, didn’t see you there,” he apologized.
“There’s no point in talking to him,” Lorn observed dryly. “The constructs in here never speak or do anything.”
He was right. On the rare occasions that they encountered other humans in the arena, they never spoke or interacted with them in any way. As far as Hayden could tell, the Masters just put them there for show, or to lure them into a trap. The man that was facing them now looked like a woodsman, with a hatchet strapped to his belt along with several very sharp hunting knives. He had a nondescript face, like the Masters cobbled together the blandest features they could find, and he was watching them in silence.
“I know, it’s just a reflex to be polite. You might try it sometime,” Zane snapped at him, and Lorn snorted.
Just then the construct reached out and grabbed Tess by the arm, pulling her sharply towards him and reaching for his knife with his free hand.
“What are you doing?” Tess asked in alarm, trying to wrench her arm free from its grip. “Ow, you’re hurting me!”
Now it was trying to drag her away, and all Hayden knew was that he couldn’t let that happen, whatever its reasons for doing so. Tess uncapped an elixir with her free hand and tossed it in the construct’s face, and even though it smoked and burned, the man didn’t release her. Before Hayden could think of what to do that wouldn’t endanger Tess, Lorn did the sensible thing and punched the guy in the face until he let her go.
The four of them took off running in another direction, trying to lose their strange stalker as they darted around trees and changed course at random. At one point a hatchet whistled past Hayden’s head so closely that he could hear it even before it landed with a meaty thwack in the oak tree beside him.
“Why is it trying to kill us?!” he asked his teammates as he gasped for breath.
“No idea, but let’s not give it the chance,” Zane panted, cheeks flushed from running, face drenched with sweat from the humidity in the jungle.
A rustling sound to their left alerted them to the presence of two more constructs, similarly equipped with weaponry and clearly intent on murdering them given the knives they were brandishing.
Hayden’s team took off running again without debate, crashing through the underbrush and desperately trying to lose their pursuers, occasionally firing spells over their shoulders.
“Do the Masters want us to fight them or run from them?” Tess clutched a stitch in her side, beginning to slow as the forest cleared and her energy waned. It was nearly impossible to catch their breaths in the damp, humid air; it felt like trying to suck down water.
“I don’t know—they’ve never given us people to fight before in here, only monsters. What if we accidentally kill them and we’re not supposed to?” Hayden frowned.
“It would help if we knew why they were trying to kill us,” Zane added, glancing around to make sure they were momentarily alone. “I mean, I know we’re not supposed to attack other people with magic, especially people who can’t use it, and these constructs haven’t used anything but normal weapons against us…”
“It’s self-defense at this point, whether they’re using wands or rocks!” Lorn huffed angrily, his plump cheeks red with exertion. “They’re the ones who started it, not us. I say we take them out and keep looking for the stupid trigger crystal.”
“But why are the constructs even after us?” Tess panted, hands resting on her knees. “They’ve never even interacted with us before, and now they’re trying to kill us?”
Hayden still wasn’t sure what they were supposed to do, but there was no time to think when a second hatchet missed him by millimeters. He spun around and cast a stopping spell with his yew wand, and his attacker froze mid-step.
Three more assailants appeared on their other side, and Zane dropped to the ground and began drawing summoning circles in the grass. Hayden was surprised that the grass held chalk so well, but then again, conjury chalk was no ordinary thing. Zane completed his diagram and moved to the side, luring one of the constructs closer until it was standing inside the circle. He dropped straight through the ground as though it was air and vanished, a feat Hayden had only seen once before, when Master Reede got rid of the Schism-warg last year at Mizzenwald.
There was no time to compliment Zane on his spell-work as he drew another diagram, because Hayden and Lorn were dueling two of the constructs while Tess climbed a tree to scout for more enemies or a way out.
Lorn was clearly playing for keeps, because every powder he threw either sizzled like acid or exploded, though he soon ran out of supplies and was forced to switch to conjury chalk, which he was less skilled with. Hayden was aware of his prisms shrinking as he cast through them, and knew that he would have to switch to wands soon when he ran out of other supplies. Remembering the elixir of Strength Tess had given him at dinner, he uncorked it and swallowed it in one gulp, feeling a surge of energy burn through him.
Zane let out a hideous shriek from somewhere behind him, and when Hayden turned around he saw that his best friend’s conjuring hand was lying in the grass, covered in blood. Hayden’s stomach lurched unpleasantly, and Tess dropped from her tree and used a powder to close the wound on Zane’s wrist and prevent him from bleeding further. The construct that had chopped his hand off was still holding the blood-stained axe, looking as blankly neutral as ever.
Hayden equipped his rose-tinted prism, preparing to cast…
Everyone disappeared.
He blinked in confusion, turning in all directions. He was still standing in the arena world, he was certain of that, but where had everyone else gone? Enemies and allies alike had just…vanished. A strange moment of lightheadedness overtook him, and he closed his eyes and breathed deeply until he felt steady on his feet again.
When he opened his eyes he was no longer alone, but the other person with him was…him. Now seriously concerned for his sanity, Hayden took a step closer to the other Hayden, noticing subtle differences between them now that he looked closer. The other version of himself was younger by several years, wearing an outfit he hadn’t seen in a long time. In fact, the last time he’d seen that shirt was…
The day his mother died.
Eyes widening, he studied his younger self more closely, trying to figure out what was going on and why he was seeing this. Where were his teammates? Had they already left the arena without him, or were they still fighting for their lives?
The younger Hayden was hiding behind a tree, peering around the side of it as though afraid of being seen, though present-day Hayden was standing in his line of sight and was being ignored completely. Then he heard his mother’s voice from somewhere in front of him, and he startled so badly that he nearly fell over.
“You!” she cried out in surprise, and Hayden heard the sound of a dish breaking against the floor. He could almost imagine her dropping it…a yellow ceramic plate, his mind supplied helpfully, though he still couldn’t see anything except his past self, still peeking around the tree trunk.
I was in my room that day. I heard the noise in the kitchen and was trying to watch without getting caught.
“What—what do you want from me?” his mother’s voice shook horribly this time. He would give anything to be able to see her right now, but all he could hear was her voice, echoing from somewhere in front of him.
“You know why I am here,” a male voice answered evenly, almost lazily. “I have co
me for the boy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his mother lied terribly; she had always been bad at it. “There’s no one here but me.”
“He is in the house; I feel his presence. Call him here,” the man replied calmly, as though he hadn’t said anything unusual.
“No, please. He’s just a boy—he doesn’t know anything about magic, or about you. Please just leave us be…”
A loud slap caused both Haydens to jump and then tense their jaws in anger, and present-day Hayden knew that his mother’s body had just hit the floor.
“I will go when I have seen the boy. Bring him here or don’t, but I will not leave without him.”
Ten-year old Hayden darted out from behind the tree and ran into what would be the kitchen of his childhood home if he could see it. He pulled a knife from thin air as though picking it up off of the kitchen counter and held it with shaking hands.
“You leave us alone or I’ll hurt you!” he shouted, though his voice pitched high with fear as he faced down an invisible foe. Present-day Hayden watched in fascination, wishing he could see the entire scene instead of just himself.
A moment of silence and then, “Do you know who I am, boy?” The Dark Prism didn’t sound condescending when he asked it, merely curious.
“You’re the one everyone talks about…” Hayden ventured carefully, “the one who wears the evil diamond on his head.”
He assumed that ten-year old Hayden was looking at his father’s prism circlet with the infamous Black Prism in it.
I was probably the last person to ever lay eyes on the Black Prism…
“Correct in essentials,” Aleric Frost conceded mildly. “Do you really believe that you can hurt me with that knife?”
Ten-year old Hayden’s hands gripped the hilt tighter. “I don’t know, but I’m not going to let you hit my mom again.”
“I do not discount the courage it takes to face me like this, knowing you cannot win. Many full-trained mages have not managed it as bravely as you, though you are very frightened.” He still sounded cool and almost bored, though the compliment seemed genuine. “Now put that toy down and come here. There is something I need to know about you.”
Present-day Hayden didn’t catch whatever his past self said next, because another wave of lightheadedness washed over him and he almost blacked out. He blinked hard several times and grabbed a tree for support, but when he opened his eyes it was no longer a tree he was holding but Zane. His friend had both of his arms and was half-carrying him somewhere while he swayed, and Hayden’s face felt strangely wet for some reason.
He blinked again and he was at the kitchen table in his old home, eating the hot cakes his mother used to make him when he was sick while she washed dishes with her back to him. A pang of sadness tore through him at the sight of her, and then she was gone and Hayden was lying on the ground, staring up at the Masters of the major arcana; they looked worried, and Asher’s face was entirely drained of color.
In the next moment he was choking on something sweet-tasting that was being forced down his throat; next he was carrying Tess on his back through the frozen cave, determined to keep her from dying. Time seemed to be moving in leaps and bounds, and Hayden lacked the energy to ask someone what was happening, if they would even stay still long enough for him to get the words out.
Now he was watching Mistress Razelle in a towering rage, something he had never seen before and could never have imagined. She was holding Masters Asher and Laurren by the ear with each hand, tugging them towards the door while shouting at them so loudly they’d both probably go deaf, though Hayden couldn’t make out the words.
The last thing he saw before he faded into blackness was Bonk biting his hand in the pen to claim him as a master.
6
The Test
When Hayden woke up, it was to find himself lying in bed in the infirmary with no clear idea of how he’d gotten there. Bonk was curled up on top of the covers beside him, warming his side while he slept. Other than that, there was no one in the room except for a mastery-level student of Mistress Razelle’s, who noticed he was awake and hurried from the room, presumably to get his mentor.
Hayden yawned and gave himself a cursory examination. Nothing felt broken, there were no strange bruises or wounds on him, and other than being really confused as to why he was here, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him at all. He strained his memory, trying to call up the most recent thing that happened to him, but all he could think of was that he was running through a jungle with Tess, Zane, and Lorn for some reason.
His movements woke Bonk, who stood up on the mattress and examined Hayden closely for a moment, like he was trying to see something behind his eyes. Apparently satisfied, Bonk flopped onto his back with his belly in the air and wriggled in that way that meant he wanted to be played with.
“Lazy dragon,” Hayden said more out of habit than anything, reaching out and stroking Bonk’s warm stomach affectionately.
When the door opened, he was surprised to see not Mistress Razelle, but Master Asher sweeping into the room. The Prism Master took a long look at him and then nodded, pulling up a chair beside his bed and sitting backwards on it.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine, I think. Just confused about why I’m here…” Hayden trailed off invitingly.
“Ah, you don’t remember then. I suppose that’s not surprising, though it is a bit ironic, given that it was a memory elixir that did this to you.”
Hayden raised his eyebrows and said, “The Mnemora? What happened?”
“You were in the challenge arena with your teammates when it hit you. I had no idea the effect would be that delayed in you, nor did Laurren.”
The memory of the jungle came back to Hayden then. He remembered the cockatrice and then fighting off the eerie human constructs, wondering what they were supposed to be doing.
“It took us a few minutes to figure out that something was wrong,” Asher admitted softly. “One minute you were fighting alongside your friends, and the next you were just standing there, staring off into space while the others battled for their lives. We couldn’t figure out what happened to you.”
Hayden frowned and said, “I didn’t stop fighting, it’s just that everyone else disappeared. I was all alone in the jungle, except for this image of myself when I was ten…”
The Prism Master shook his head and said, “No, Hayden. No one disappeared; your mind simply removed you from the present, at a very dangerous time I might add, given that you were in combat. If those had been real assailants you all would have been killed, as your team wasted valuable time trying to help you while we Masters debated whether to interfere. Sark seemed to think you were just messing with us to make yourself appear interesting.”
Hayden rolled his eyes at the mention of his least favorite Master.
“So the Mnemora worked then?” Hayden frowned. “I was really seeing what happened on the day my mom died?”
Master Asher looked startled and said, “You saw Aleric?”
“Well, no, but I heard him,” Hayden admitted. “It was weird, but the only thing I could see properly was myself. Everything else just looked like jungle, but I could hear my mom talking to him in the kitchen.”
Asher looked pensive and said, “Huh, that is odd. By our best reckoning, when you took that strengthening elixir it clashed badly with whatever residual Mnemora was still in your system. Maybe that’s why it didn’t work properly.”
Hayden nodded, toying with Bonk’s wings to give himself something to focus on, which didn’t seem to bother his familiar at all.
“So now you know the truth of that day?” Asher prodded gently, his expression an odd mixture of compassion and a hunger for knowledge.
“Not really,” Hayden admitted, meeting his eyes. “I only saw the first part, where he turned up in the kitchen and asked my mom where I was.”
“So we’ve been correct in thinking he knew about you before he
came to see your mother that day,” Asher said lightly. “Though I’ve no idea how he found out about you if your mother was as careful as you say she was.”
“He said that he could feel my presence or something, but I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” Hayden sighed. “He just kept telling her he wanted to see the boy—me, I mean. When she wouldn’t help him he hit her, and I ran out into the kitchen and grabbed a knife.” He admitted the last part quietly, embarrassed at how stupid he must have seemed to the omnipotent Dark Prism, a scared boy of ten with no magical prowess facing him down with a kitchen knife.
Asher looked mildly surprised and asked, “You attacked him?”
“I don’t think so…or not that I saw, at least. I told him I knew who he was and that I wouldn’t let him hurt my mom again.” Hayden was silent for a long moment before adding, “He said I was brave,” in a small voice.
“Yes, well you were certainly that.” The Prism Master looked sympathetic. “Even in madness Aleric retained some of his fundamentals, and he always respected courage, even in his foes.”
“I wasn’t brave, I was terrified and stupid,” Hayden mumbled, fidgeting with Bonk’s small arms now.
“It doesn’t count as bravery unless you’re frightened,” Asher objected mildly. “You’ve no idea how many fully-trained, adult mages cowered and sobbed at your father’s knees, begging for their lives. For you to face him like you did, as fruitless as it was…I’m sure that in his detached sort of way he was quite proud of you in that moment.”
Hayden swallowed a lump of emotion and took a deep breath.
“It ended soon after that, but I’m not sure why because there seemed to be more to the memory. I just remember seeing a lot of strange images, like Zane carrying me and my mother feeding me hot cakes…”
“Memories,” Asher explained. “You probably fell out of the memory with your father when you lost consciousness; you were bleeding profusely at that point from both nostrils.”
“I was?” Hayden asked in alarm.
