by David Meyer
Piper cocked a quizzical look at me. What the heck is going on? she mouthed.
I wasn’t sure. But it had to be big. It wasn’t every day the faculty got together in one place, let alone with such pomp and solemnity.
Boltstar’s shirt was smooth and unrumpled. His cheeks looked healthy and his eyes were filled with light. Turning sideways, he cast a long look at Ivan. Then he turned back to the crowd. “This is Mr. Ivan Gully. Mr. Gully is a confessed Chaotic magician. One week ago, he attacked this fine institution of ours without cause or provocation. He escaped custody shortly afterward, only to attack us again this very morning.”
Angry faces appeared all around me.
“As all of you know,” he continued, “the Roderick J. Madkey School of Magical Administration is a self-governing entity. And our laws strictly forbid sedition or other actions designed to overthrow the existing administration. As headmaster, it’s my responsibility to make sure these laws are followed. If someone chooses to break them, it’s my duty to mete out an appropriate punishment. After much thought, I’ve reached several decisions on Mr. Gully’s future.”
All around me, students inched forward in their seats. Their jaws were set. Their eyes burned with anger. They didn’t want justice. They wanted revenge. Revenge for the two attacks, of course. But also, revenge for their fear, for their lost innocence.
Boltstar turned toward Ivan. “After careful consideration, I find you, Mr. Ivan Gully, guilty of sedition, the usage of non-sanctioned magic, and injurious actions to Madkey magicians as well as school property.”
I held my breath. What kind of punishment would he receive? An extended stint at Gutlore? Maybe hard labor?
“Since you and your fellow conspirators refrained from killing anyone, I’ve decided against the death penalty. However, your actions still merit a stern response. Thus, I’ve decided to skin you of your magic.”
The faculty remained stone-faced. But judging from the reactions, pretty much everyone else was caught by surprise.
Eyes wrenched open. Jaws dropped and dangled in mid-air. There were a few cruel smiles, too.
I shuddered under my breath. Magic-skinning was a particularly heinous punishment. Not only did victims lose their ability to do magic, they also lost a part of their souls. Specifically, the part that was emotional and artistic. They became little more than joyless shells, permanently detached from the rest of the magic community.
“Upon completion of the skinning ceremony, you will be transferred to Gutlore Penitentiary,” Boltstar continued. “You will spend the rest of your life there, isolated and despised by all right-thinking magicians.”
Someone, I think it was Felicia, started to applaud. Others joined in and the noise turned thunderous. Tara DuBois whistled. Tom Foundry hooted. Even Piper and Leandra got in on the excitement with some light clapping.
Cheers ended. A chant rang out, loud and clear. It started in the field, amongst the faculty members. Quickly, it spread to the bleachers.
“Struc-tur-al-ize,” Madkey chanted as one. “Struc-tur-al-ize. Struc-tur-al-ize. Struc-tur-al-ize.”
The occasion felt, well, oddly joyous. But I didn’t feel a whole lot of joy. Oh, I screwed my face into a smile and pretended to clap with enthusiasm. But deep down, I felt conflicted.
Yes, he’d invaded our school. And yes, he’d used illegal magic, hurting people in the process. But if he could be skinned, then the same thing could happen to Tad. And that didn’t seem quite right to me.
Boltstar adopted the gravest of visages. “As is my discretion, I’ve decided to carry out the first part of your punishment here, in front of the very institution you attempted to destroy. May your name be forgotten from this day forward and all through the annals of time so that those you love and that love you in turn may be spared your everlasting shame.”
I had to give Ivan credit. He didn’t try to run or call for mercy. Instead, he stood tall, a steely, unreadable expression plastered across his face.
Boltstar’s wand raced through a series of complicated, dazzling, spark-inducing movements. His lips mashed together as he repeated unmentionable incantations.
A sharp jet of cyan light slammed into Ivan’s chest. His lip trembled. For a split-second, he fought to control his emotions. Then he reared back and screamed.
Magenta light began to pour out of his mouth, his ears, his nostrils. It came slowly at first, but soon sped up. The boy’s voice rose in pitch until he was almost shrieking.
With a soft pop, the magenta light broke free of Ivan’s body. He collapsed into a heap, weakened but still conscious.
Breathless, I watched this odd-shaped bubble of skinned magic float in mid-air. It frothed and lurched from side to side, as if searching for a place to call its own. It reminded me of a lost child, frightened and trying to find its parent.
Still whispering words, Boltstar waved his wand. A cyan glow flooded out of his wand. He spoke faster and faster, working himself into a small frenzy.
The glow quickly surrounded the bubble. Then it reversed course. Slowly, it vanished back into Boltstar’s wand, reeling the magenta bubble along after it. The bubble grew, well, panicky from the looks of it. It fought hard to escape and I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for it.
But Boltstar was relentless. With some wrangling, he managed to bring the skinned magic close. Then he whipped his arm and the magenta bubble vanished into his wand.
I released a long breath. I’d never seen someone skinned of magic before. It was just as horrible as I’d imagined. Actually, it was even worse than that. The skinned magic had looked so frightened, so unwilling to go with Boltstar. At the same time, one look at Ivan’s dead eyes and pale, sweaty skin was enough to fuel a lifetime of nightmares.
“What does this mean?” Leandra whispered, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. “Does Boltstar have, like, his memories and thoughts?”
Piper shook her head. “No, just his magic. Technically, he’s capable of doing any spell Ivan could do.”
“But he’d never do Chaotic magic.”
“Of course not. But he could if he wanted to.” She paused. “As for Ivan, well, he’s lost his magic.”
“It’s not just that,” I said, my voice cracking at the seams. “He’s lost his soul, too.”
“That’s just an old-wives’ tale,” Piper claimed.
“Yeah? Look into his eyes and tell me what you see.”
We looked at Ivan. Even from this distance, we could see that his eyes were dull and listless. It was almost as if a light had gone out inside of him.
“Magic isn’t just a part of us,” I said. “It’s who we are. You can’t rip it away and expect that everything’s going to be hunky-dory.”
“It’s finished.” Boltstar looked refreshed, which was no surprise given that he’d just received a magic transfusion. “Please take Mr. Gully back to his cell and prepare him for transfer to Gutlore.”
Gutlore’s exact location was a secret and thus, nobody knew much about it. What kind of people worked there anyway? Were they even people? Or were they something else?
Galison and Wadflow hauled Ivan to his feet. The faculty stood up. Seeing this, the students and staffers followed suit. I was the last to stand, but not because I was trying to make some kind of statement. Rather, I was too stunned to do much of anything at the moment.
“That concludes the skinning ceremony, ladies and gentlemen,” Boltstar said. “The faculty is hereby excused.”
Galison and Wadflow took Ivan back to the locker room area. Meanwhile, the faculty exited the arena.
“Before we begin class, I have two announcements.” Boltstar turned to face us. “First, all outside activities, games, and sports are cancelled for the remainder of the school year. This, of course, includes ramball.”
Jaws dropped throughout the arena.
“While unfortunate, this is a necessary measure until we get a better handle on the Chaotic problem. Rest assured I will do whatever it takes to ke
ep this school safe.” His eyes were hooded and dark. His voice carried the tiniest bit of menace to it, a detail that cut to my core. “If that means skinning more magicians—invaders and traitors alike—then so be it.”
Chapter 27
Grass green light, nearly impossible to see on the HMQ field, zoomed over my shoulder. Picking up speed, I rounded a corner. I was moving fast and with good agility. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for my wand work.
After the magic-skinning ceremony, Boltstar had led us through a long—and rather boring—lecture. We’d covered the previous night’s reading assignment and had even been forced to take a pop quiz. He’d told us it was meaningless, something to help chart our progress thus far. I hoped that was true, seeing as how I’d almost certainly failed it.
We’d spent some time in practice duels. Then, under Boltstar’s direction, we’d fought a couple of Havoc Royal matches. Kell, enraged by the ramball news, won most of them. But Porter took one, too. Regardless, I’d gotten knocked out early in every single game. Now, it was almost quitting time and I was in danger of yet another early elimination.
Sprinting around some metal barrels, I caught sight of Ophelia Wepper. Her back was to me. She was on her haunches, her gaze directed at a group of sophomores.
It was almost too easy and right away, I suspected a trap. But when I whirled around, there was nobody there.
Ducking down, I fought to get my emotions under control. Then I lifted my wand and took a deep breath.
I swept the instrument through its required motions. My lips began to speak the necessary incantation. And then the comforting embrace of Instinctia took over. It grabbed hold of my emotions, my hand, my lips. It felt utterly amazing.
At that exact moment, I sensed a small voice deep within me. It called out, telling me to forget the spell, to let my magic free. But the voice was quickly drowned out by the all-powerful force of Instinctia.
“Elertfa Lokwhan,” I said.
An auburn flash zoomed out of my wand. It hit a small box next to Ophelia’s head, blasting it right off of a stack of barrels. She gave me a surprised look, then fired off a spell of her own. I leapt out of the way, barely dodging it. When I looked again, she was gone.
“Come on, Mr. Wolf!” Boltstar called out. “You look terrible out there.”
In previous classes, Boltstar had displayed the persona of a tough, but fair instructor. However, a different side of him had emerged that night, presumably due to the Ivan incident. The moment we stepped onto the HMQ, he became harsh and ruthless, with little to no patience for imperfection.
He was hard on the students. But he treated us staffers with almost utter disdain. Piper thought it was a case of headmaster bias. That is, he preferred people who stayed in school over those of us who’d been unable to handle it. But Leandra and I believed it was because he cared only about results. And so far, the students had outclassed us at every turn.
A bright, multi-colored glare caught my eye. Panicking, I slid behind a large sign, which was embedded deep into the ground. Loud blasts sounded out as the spells struck metal. I stayed low, eyes wide, as the sign bent and crinkled under the onslaught.
The sign dented one more time, then all went still. Breathing hard, I got my first good look at it. A painting of the elusive jackalope, peeling heavily, adorned the surface. In big block letters, somebody had written, Jackalopes Rule. Others Drool. Ahh, how clever.
I peeked over the top of the sign. Almost immediately, a blaze of chestnut—Porter’s color—shot my way. I was so startled, I didn’t even move.
The spell soared past my ear, missing it by mere inches. More chestnut beams followed in quick succession. This time, I ducked and the spells flew overhead.
“Quit hiding and fight, Mr. Wolf,” Boltstar growled.
I wasn’t sure what was worse. The prospect of getting knocked out by Porter again or Boltstar’s constant complaints about my subpar performance.
I crawled through the short grass like a snake. Felicia cut about twenty feet in front of me and ducked down behind some empty cases of … was that bizzlum? I looked closer. Yup, that was Casafortro’s bizzlum label, alright.
I ginned up new emotions and locked them into place. But as I waved my wand, I spotted a glint of chestnut.
My feelings shifted into a different combination. My wand glided through a sudden range of motions and I achieved Instinctia.
“Pobyl Caxtor,” my lips called out.
An auburn spell exploded out of my wand. It zoomed across the HMQ and crashed into Porter’s spell. The two lights blinked out in a puff of smoke.
My confidence soared like a rocket. That was my second havoc magic spell in the same number of minutes. Even better, it was completely unplanned. Maybe I was starting to get the hang of these new spells.
“Excellent attack, Mr. Garrington,” Boltstar called out. “Mr. Wolf had luck on his side. You’ll get him next time.”
Instantly, my ego deflated. Just then, a powerful flare, chestnut of course, hit my side. I spun around in a half-circle, then pitched to the ground. My jaw slammed into the field and I got a mouthful of soil and grass.
“You’re out, Mr. Wolf,” Boltstar shouted. “Again. Please exit the HMQ.”
I dragged myself to the magic rope and rolled under it. Over a hundred kids had been sent to the bleachers ahead of me, so I wasn’t entirely discouraged. On the other hand, hundreds of kids were still on the HMQ, still running, still fighting.
I checked the clock. It was almost eight. Scanning the bleachers, I saw Leandra sitting in her usual seat. Her gaze was focused on her lap and I assumed she was working on her simulator mirror. Piper, textbook in hand, sat in front of her. She was reading intently, as if the book could help her get a step up on the competition.
I ascended the stairs. They didn’t even look up as I grabbed my backpack. Quickly, I headed for the exit. Right before leaving, I heard a soft crash.
“Excellent shot, Mr. Garrington,” Boltstar called out. “You, too, Mr. Masters. Both of you are turning into fine havoc magicians. In fact—”
I didn’t hear the rest.
I was already out the door.
Chapter 28
“He did what?”
I knew Tad was looking at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to return the gaze. “He skinned Ivan.”
He dropped the chicken salad sandwich I’d picked up for him. Lifting the small jug of canfee—Death-Defying Escape—he poured himself a drink.
“Wow,” he said at last. “I just … wow.”
Quickly, I filled him in on everything that had happened that day, from Ivan’s appearance in Torso all the way up to the skinning ceremony. “Boltstar said he was guilty of sedition and illegal magic,” I finished. “Plus, injurious actions to others.”
“What a load of garbage.” He itched his shoulder. He was still scratching, but not nearly as much as the previous week. “Ivan’s a good guy. He deserved better.”
I forced myself to look at Tad. He still bothered me in a way I found difficult to define. At the same time, I felt an odd kinship to him.
He finished his food and we moved to the middle of the room. For the next hour, I performed spell after spell. But try as I might, I couldn’t deny Instinctia.
“That’s enough.” Disgusted, I stuffed my wand into my holster. Then I began to massage my sore, cramped fingers. I was tired from the drills. Plus, I was exhausted and beat-up from the HMQ games. Maybe it was time to call it a night.
“Can I ask you something?” Tad asked.
“Sure.”
“How often do you feel your emotions?”
I looked at him.
“Just humor me.”
I shrugged. “It’s not like I keep track.”
“Do you use them a lot? Or a little?”
“Well, when I’m casting spells—”
“I don’t mean those emotions. I mean your emotions. Your true feelings.”
I frowned. “What are you ge
tting at?”
“Chaotic magic is fueled by personal emotions. But you’ve spent your life living emotional lies.” He paused just long enough for the revelation to sink in. “Think about it. When you cast spells, you’re not feeling your own emotions. You’re feeling Xavier Capsudra’s emotions.”
His point resonated with me on a very deep level. In order to cast a Structuralist spell, one had to memorize and duplicate Xavier’s original emotions. And my job as an assembly-line magician required me to cast a lot of spells. Heck, I probably spent more time with Xavier’s feelings than my own.
“So, what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Get in touch with my emotions?”
“That’s the idea.”
“How?”
“Easy. Just do it.”
“That’s real helpful.”
His face screwed up in thought. “What’s your approach? Are you letting your emotions—your real ones—lead you? Or are you casting Xavier’s spells, using his emotions?”
“The latter,” I admitted. “I cast a spell I already know, then try to deny Instinctia when it occurs.”
“So, try the former.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Sure, it is.”
“Structuralist magic is just so … so …” I sought around for the right word. “… natural.”
He gave me a withering look.
“No, I mean it. It comes easily to me. It’s what I know.”
“That will change with time.” He gave me a meaningful look. “But first, you’ve got to let go, Randy. You’ve got to feel your own feelings if you want this to work.”
I wasn’t sure I could do that. But even if I figured it out, there was still another problem. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say I let go and start to cast a Chaotic spell. I’ll still have to deal with Instinctia. It’ll guide me toward the closest Capsudra spell.”
“Perhaps. But at least you’ll be on the right track. And who knows? Maybe emotional honesty will make it easier for you to deny Instinctia.”
Exhaling, I produced my wand. My eyes closed over and I cleared my head of all thoughts. I began to sense deep-rooted emotions, ones I’d been ignoring for a long time. Fear of getting caught. Admiration for Boltstar, compounded by guilt that I hadn’t turned Tad over to him. Frustration over my lack of progress in Havoc Magic class. Gratefulness to Leandra and Piper for their friendship. Distrust toward Tad, tempered by the fact that I genuinely liked him.
