The Other Prism (The Broken Prism)

by St. Clair, V.

  “It happens, occasionally. While we go to some effort to ensure that the competition is as safe as possible, there are too many random factors involved for us to ever really be certain. That is part of the risk of entering the competition, as in the real world. No one can protect you from everything.” He turned his eyes from the battle to look at Hayden. “I hope Asher didn’t give you the impression that this competition was safe?”

  “No,” Hayden frowned. “But he did go to greater efforts to make sure that people didn’t accidentally die during the trial at Mizzenwald.”

  “How noble of him.” The Prism Master looked like he was tempted to roll his eyes. “I think you’re going to find the world a very frightening place when you can’t hide behind his shiny red robes anymore. If he had given you to me for the summer as I asked him to, it would have done you some good.”

  “What are you talking about?” Hayden raised his eyebrows in alarm.

  “Didn’t he tell you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “We had a discussion about you and Davis last term, comparing our curriculums and so forth, and I suggested that we switch pupils for the summer. I thought it would be an interesting change of pace, working with someone from another school, seeing how your education stacked up against what I would have taught you. Davis would have assisted Asher with his research, and you would have worked with me.”

  Since Hayden thought that Master Kiresa was the most unsettling teacher he’d ever met, his head nearly exploded at the thought of spending an entire summer with him, though a part of him wished for the chance to do real research and be useful.

  “And he said no?”

  “He said he wasn’t fond of Davis and had no desire to work with him professionally.” Master Kiresa shrugged as though that was unimportant. “I suspect he was mainly trying to keep you from me, for whatever reason.”

  Maybe because you’re terrifying…

  “Oh, well, I don’t know anything about it.” Hayden shrugged, turning his back on the Prism Master to finish watching the Wand trial. To his surprise, Reya from Mizzenwald had already been eliminated, which took her out of the competition entirely. A group of mastery-level students were working on reviving her now, while Farrah and the wand-user from Valhalla duked it out.

  Farrah was bleeding from the nose and both arms, her hair a tangled mess, but her opponent didn’t look any better and was favoring his wand arm. She sent a stream of spells flying at him from her elder wand, two of which he was unable to deflect, and he was thrown to the ground. Unfortunately, Farrah had used up all of her combat wands at this point, so she walked over to him, grabbed him by the hair, and slammed his head against the ground until he passed out.

  Hayden watched with wide eyes, making a mental note never to make her angry, as a group of healers descended upon him while Farrah was declared the winner of the round.

  He almost didn’t realize it was time for the Prism trial until Master Kiresa told him to stand up. Remembering his threat to make things interesting, Hayden swallowed a lump of fear and tried to look confident as he walked into the newly-vacated clearing. He turned to face the row of chairs he had just left, and bile rose in his throat as he caught Oliver’s intense gaze. The older boy had a remarkable way of communicating the threat, You better win or I’ll knock your teeth out, without saying a thing.

  Davis and Marc stood beside Hayden and the former said, “I’m going to destroy you in the finals,” in greeting.

  “Oh good, you finally realized that I’m going to make it to the finals. That only took about eight months,” Hayden replied.

  “The Prism trial is going to be fairly straightforward,” Master Kiresa spoke loudly, addressing the crowd. “The only thing the competitors must do is stay on the platform.”

  He said it with a note of amusement, and Hayden had no idea what platform he was talking about until the ground hardened beneath his feet and then shot up into the air. Hayden’s knees buckled from the pressure, and when the ground stopped moving, he climbed to his feet and discovered that he was standing on a circular, white-tiled platform, twenty-feet in diameter and at least that high in the air. There were no guardrails on the side, nothing to stop him from dropping over the edge and breaking his neck in the fall.

  “The last one standing will win the round,” Master Kiresa said from below. “You may begin.”

  No sooner had he said the words than the platform began to spin. It probably didn’t look like it was moving very fast from the ground, but it took Hayden less than ten seconds to make a full rotation on it, and he struggled to balance his footing and move towards the center. The only thing saving him right now was the fact that the others were struggling just as much as he was, and were all too busy stabilizing themselves to attack each other.

  Then the platform began to rock ever-so-slightly back and forth as it spun, just enough to be terrifying. Hayden was sincerely regretting his wish for something more exciting than simple combat, and he was already getting dizzy and nauseous from the spinning.

  Marc sent a basic Push spell his way and Hayden narrowly dodged it, switching to his amber prism. He and Davis met each other’s gaze for a moment and, as if they had planned it all along, both of them turned and cast at Marc at the same time. The prism-user from Creston went flying over the edge of the platform, and since the platform was spinning, Hayden couldn’t see what happened to him. He hoped someone had caught him or at least slowed his fall.

  He realized that his exchange with Davis at the base of the platform hadn’t been meaningless. They both wanted to face each other in the finals, both wanted to prove that they were the best prism-user in the end. Marc hadn’t stood a chance during this round.

  Now Davis’s attention was focused wholly on him. Hayden couldn’t be sure if it was just his imagination, but he felt like the platform was moving faster now. Hayden held up his rose-tinted prism and cast Anchor, a spell he had never had occasion to use before, but it worked as intended and held his feet firmly against the platform. Unfortunately it did nothing for the rest of his body, so he was pitched back and forth while his legs remained locked in place, trying to hold his body upright.

  Davis braced himself better before anchoring his feet, and had an easier time remaining upright. Then he cast Push and Pull in rapid succession at Hayden, knowing that he couldn’t move his feet and apparently determined to snap his legs off at the knees by forcing the rest of his body to bend one way and then another. Hayden cast Repel, followed by Sleep from his blue prism. Davis blocked his spell and retaliated with Break, and Hayden felt his defensive charm burn as it absorbed some of the shock, which was probably the only thing that actually kept his left knee from breaking as Davis intended (though it still hurt terribly).

  Furious, Hayden cast Dispel and managed to remove the Anchor spell Davis had cast on himself, and the older boy fell over and slid backwards towards the edge of the platform, catching himself before he could fly over the edge and re-anchoring in an awkward position. He cast Slow on Hayden, which made all of his movements glacial, as though he was frozen in time. He followed with Heat, and Hayden felt like he’d been dipped in a volcano, but fortunately it broke the slowing spell.

  Davis cast Heat several more times in rapid succession, until Hayden’s robes burst into flames at the bottom hem and he had to cast Water to extinguish it. They exchanged spells back and forth until both of them nearly ran out of prisms, knowing there would be nothing to do but revert to hand-to-hand combat after that. Hayden, who didn’t have a lot of experience with fighting, didn’t like his chances; Davis probably pulverized someone every week.

  Glancing at his remaining prism fragment, Hayden knew there was really only one way for him to save face right now, little though he liked accepting defeat. Putting on his best arrogant face, he smiled at Davis and said, “This is getting old. I’ll see you in the finals; hope you’re feeling better by then.”

  At the shocked look on his opponent’s face, Hayden used his last spell to remove t
he anchoring effect on his feet, and he jumped off of the platform.

  It wasn’t until he was hurtling towards the ground at an odd angle that he realized he had no prisms left to prevent himself from slamming into the ground and breaking every bone in his body. He opened his mouth to scream just before a spell hit him and his descent slowed rapidly, though not enough to stop him from slamming face-down into the grass and biting his lip.

  Groaning, Hayden wiggled his fingers and toes to make sure everything was still attached. He tasted blood from his cut lip, and either his nose was bleeding or else his sinuses had chosen an odd moment to drain all over his face. His knee still ached from where Davis tried to break it, and his head was spinning like it thought he was still on the platform.

  Hayden rolled onto his side and vomited all over the grass, dizzy and in pain. His stomach roiled loudly and he could barely stop puking long enough to breathe. When he was done retching for the moment, he rolled onto his back and wiped his mouth with the singed remnants of his sleeve. It came away bright red, which answered his question of whether his nose was bleeding.

  The platform must have been lowered at some point, because he heard Davis puking from somewhere nearby, but he kept his eyes closed against the blazing light of the sun, his head throbbing with pain. He could hear Farrah arguing passionately with someone, her words floating into his ears but not making much sense.

  “…could have slowed him down a lot more than that! Why would you let him hit the ground that hard?!”

  The Prism Master’s faintly amused voice replied, “He is not seriously injured. Now I suggest you go watch the Powder trials while I tend to him.”

  If Hayden wasn’t seriously injured that was news to him, because he felt terrible. A shadow fell over him and Hayden opened his eyes to look into Master Kiresa’s face.

  “Interesting enough for you, Frost?” the Prism Master greeted him. Hayden didn’t dignify that with a response, partly because he was coughing on his own blood.

  Master Kiresa helped him to his feet, but the world was still spinning alarmingly and his bad knee buckled, so the Master half-carried him away from the Powder trial to a vacant patch of grass. Hayden tried to sit up, but after throwing up three or four more times, all he had the energy to do was slump onto his side and shut his eyes.

  He had no idea what time it was when Oliver shook him awake, though it couldn’t be too late because the sun was still high in the sky. Oliver looked a little dusty, but otherwise he seemed the specimen of perfect health.

  “You still alive, Frost?”

  “I’m not sure,” Hayden groaned, deciding that honesty was the best policy right now.

  “Well, get up if you can, it’s time to go home. If you can’t walk, we’ll leave you at Isenfall until you’re well enough.”

  The thought of spending another minute under the ministrations of Master Kiresa gave him the adrenaline he needed to get to his feet and remain conscious. Reya and Darren were standing nearby; it looked like the latter was consoling the former on her loss.

  Fortunately it was the Powders Master who was waiting for them at the translocation site, since Hayden had had enough of the Prism Master for quite a while. He looked them over to make sure none of them was missing limbs, wrinkled his nose a little at the smell of stale blood and vomit on Hayden, and then sent them on their way after a brief word of congratulations to Oliver for winning the Powder trials.

  The main courtyard at Mizzenwald was the most beautiful thing Hayden had ever seen after his day at Isenfall. He swayed a little on his feet and stumbled into Oliver, who immediately stepped out of the way so that Hayden couldn’t lean against him and soil his robes. He would have fallen to the ground if not for the conveniently-placed cherry-blossom tree he was able to slump against.

  There were a lot of people outside right now, enjoying their free time before dinner with their familiars and their friends. Even Master Sark had his lemur outside with him, watching it go through a series of concentric rings. Master Asher was trying to tell his familiar, Horace, to stop bringing him dead rats when he caught sight of their group.

  “Oh good, you’re back. How did the—mother of the arcana, what did they do to you over there?” he said loudly, drawing the attention of the other Masters and several students.

  “I’m out,” Reya addressed Master Willow directly. “The rest of them are going to the finals.”

  She sounded miserable, and Master Willow frowned by patted her consolingly on the shoulder and said, “It’s hardly anything to be ashamed of. You made it quite far in the competition.”

  Master Reede wrinkled his nose at the sight (and smell) of Hayden and said, “Good lord, Frost, did they feed you through a meat grinder?”

  Hayden opened his mouth to answer, felt another surge of bile rising in his throat, and clamped his mouth shut with one hand until the feeling passed.

  “You clearly need to see Razelle,” Asher stepped forward and took Hayden’s arm, steadying him on his feet and leading him towards the castle. “We’re going to have to start buying you more durable robes, since you keep coming back with them ripped, blood-stained, or burned to a crisp.”

  “Ungh,” Hayden answered intelligently, wondering if there was any way possible that this day could get worse.

  He cursed himself mentally for thinking that when he saw Zane, Tess, and Conner hurrying towards him.

  17

  Recovery

  The last thing he needed right now were his best friends witnessing one of his un-coolest moments ever, but it was too late to hide from them now. Tess’s face was so pale she looked exsanguinated, and even Zane didn’t look like he was up to being sarcastic, which meant Hayden must look absolutely terrible.

  “What happened to you?!” Zane blurted out, taking Hayden’s other arm to help him inside and trying not to acknowledge the smell.

  “S’no big deal. I’m fine,” Hayden assured them all, though his knees nearly buckled again and they had to stop long enough to steady him.

  “Yeah, you’re a specimen of health,” Master Asher agreed pleasantly, dragging him into the infirmary and depositing him onto one of the beds. It was so comfortable Hayden nearly fell asleep on the spot.

  “Conner, go get Mistress Razelle,” Asher instructed him.

  “But you’ve got a Mastery Charm, can’t you just—”

  “Oh sorry, did I accidentally ask for your opinion on the matter?” Asher interrupted, and Conner shook his head and hurried from the room. Hayden suspected that the Prism Master knew how embarrassed he was and was trying to minimize the number of witnesses, which he appreciated.

  “Tess, can you—holy arcana, you’re pale…are you going to pass out? No? Good, then rummage around those drawers and see if there’s anything useful.”

  Tess moved out of Hayden’s line of sight and began digging through drawers of elixirs and bandages.

  “Laraby, get some warm water and bring it here.”

  Hayden was content to lie there and let them bustle around, opening his mouth to drink whatever they tipped down his throat and trying not to flinch as they tended to his scrapes. By the time Mistress Razelle entered the room he was actually feeling a lot better, or at least less nauseated.

  “My word, what have they done to him at Isenfall?” She frowned disapprovingly, going over him to make sure that nothing was broken.

  “Reede’s placed his bet on a meat-grinder challenge. I’m more inclined to think they tied him to a tree and took turns beating him with metal clubs. Tess, Zane? Want to weigh in before we get the truth?” Master Asher solicited pleasantly.

  Tess just shook her head mutely, but Zane said, “Rabid-weasel fight?” and the Prism Master said, “Nice one; I hadn’t thought of that.”

  With a little help, Hayden sat up in bed and leaned against the pillows.

  “They put us on a platform about twenty feet in the air and told us the last one to stay on would win.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Zane
interjected.

  “Then the platform started spinning really fast and trying to buck us off while we fought each other,” Hayden added.

  “Oh, well that sounds worse.”

  Master Asher looked pensive and said, “How did it go?”

  “Davis and I both took out Marc—the prism from Creston—right away. Then we anchored ourselves to the platform so we wouldn’t fly off and started fighting each other. It was hard to focus with all the spinning and tilting, and Davis kept trying to break my kneecaps since my feet were glued down, but we were pretty evenly matched. We used up all our prisms, and when I was down to my last spell I realized it was stupid for us to get into hand-to-hand combat when we’re both guaranteed a spot in the finals, so I dispelled my anchor and jumped off the platform.”

  “I supposed you were plummeting towards your doom when you realized you didn’t have any prisms left to save yourself on the way down?” Master Asher asked casually.

  “Yes,” Hayden frowned. “Master Kiresa did slow me down a bit, but I still hit the ground pretty hard and landed on my face.”

  “It looks like they hardly slowed you at all, judging by all the bruising and bleeding,” Asher pointed out casually, though that pensive look was back in his eyes.

  “Did they offer you any treatment afterwards?” Mistress Razelle asked with mounting anger.

  “I’m not sure. They dragged me away from the others and left me lying on the grass. They might have come back to help me, but I was unconscious until Oliver woke me up to come back here.”

  Mistress Razelle, one of the most steady, kindest people he knew, looked like she was going to spit fire. Just as she was threatening to storm Isenfall and give them a piece of her mind, Master Asher cut her off by saying, “Could I have a word with Hayden, privately?”

  After making Hayden drink four or five more elixirs while grumbling about teachers who deserved to fall into sinkholes, Mistress Razelle relented and ushered the others out of the room.