With a tremendous struggle, he managed to shift a single finger. A spasm ran up his arm; everything was so dark, the air growing stale and beginning to wrench at his lungs; he was drowning in the snow, smothered beneath an unbearable weight. He clenched his fist weakly, sending another spasm along his arm. With a grunt of pain, he wrenched the whole arm free of the snow.
Thrusting his fist forward, Tristan smashed a hole through the dense layer of snow—a stream of icy fresh air swirled down to him and he inhaled deeply, shuddering. He turned his face towards the air, trembling, and eased both arms up through the small hole. With an agonizing jolt, he wrenched his body from the depression he’d created and onto the new field of rugged snow.
For a long time Tristan lay perfectly still, struggling to stay conscious. The snow digging into his back was so cold that it numbed his skin through the layers of clothes, which was almost a relief after the agony.
I’m going to move now, Tristan thought firmly. He blinked, hardly aware whether his eyes were open or closed. Either way, everything was shrouded in hazy darkness. It was so easy just lying where he was; his limbs no longer seemed attached to the rest of his body. Giving up would be so easy... Yet Tristan fought the blackness. I have to get off the ice. If I’m rescued, I won’t be able to go home. If I die...
Who would care?
Tristan was unable to contemplate his own death with anything but an icy calm.
Suddenly he felt hot; why was he wearing a jacket when he could feel a furnace beneath his skin? Shifting in discomfort, Tristan managed to gain control of his arms, though he had the unpleasant sensation that his wrists ended in lumps of rock. He pushed himself to a sitting position and fumbled with the zipper on his jacket. His wooden hands wouldn’t grasp the zipper properly, and there was no sensation in his fingers.
Okay, he thought, now I have to—to find somewhere to sleep. He would shelter in the trees tonight and continue his trek south in the morning.
Just as he made this decision, every last particle of strength and determination drained from him. What was the point of living, anyway? Tristan could answer that one easily enough—he was afraid of death. But his eyes slid shut against his will and his head dropped forward; gentle as a feather, he settled back onto the snow. He was floating in the darkness, suspended in heavy nothingness, and then it was all gone.
Chapter 8: After the Test
When Tristan woke, he was surrounded by teachers. He lay in a very soft bed; when he tried to turn onto his side, his right leg anchored him in place, heavy and stiff. It was wrapped in bandages, which meant he was in Grindlethorn’s hospital room.
“He’s waking up,” Merridy’s voice said. A note of fear had crept into her customarily hard tone. “Someone bring water.”
Blinking, Tristan recognized Alldusk, Gracewright, Quinsley, Merridy, and Grindlethorn hovering beside his bed. Quinsley and Grindlethorn were glaring at each other—Tristan had the feeling he’d interrupted an argument. Instinctively he ran a hand through his damp hair so the left side of his face was covered once again.
“How are you feeling?” Quinsley asked, his usually cheerful face grim. He handed Tristan a full glass of water.
Tristan’s throat still felt grimy and raw—he took a deep swallow of the water before he could speak. “I’m fine,” he lied.
“Your ankle is badly twisted,” Grindlethorn said. “It’s a miracle you didn’t break anything.” Shifting Tristan’s blankets to the side, Grindlethorn lifted his foot and showed him the new cast. “The bandaging is sturdy enough that you should be able to walk, but you should be careful until the herbs have fully set. Try and stay off your feet for the next couple days.”
Alldusk cleared his throat. “May I have a private word with Tristan?”
“Of course,” Quinsley said, cutting across Grindlethorn’s protest. “We’ll be up in the ballroom. Dinner is probably ready by now.”
Merridy gave Alldusk a brisk nod and hurried from the hospital room; Gracewright and Grindlethorn followed, both grumbling to themselves.
Looking uncomfortable, Alldusk crossed to the door and shut it before drawing a chair to the side of Tristan’s bed. “I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he said in a low voice. “However.... If my suspicions are correct, you had best know the truth.” Alldusk sighed. “You wanted to leave this school, yes?”
Tristan shrugged, trying not to betray his surprise. How had Alldusk guessed?
“Darla and I were keeping an eye on the students during the test, and I noticed that you decided on a course that led you very deliberately away from the school. No, don’t say anything,” Alldusk said, cutting off Tristan’s denial. “Whether you were trying to run away or not, you should know that it is not safe to leave just now.”
“Professor, I—” Tristan was surprised. He had been expecting a reprimand.
Alldusk waved one hand, dismissing Tristan’s protest. “I don’t know whether you’ve figured this out yet, but the school is in danger. We’re afraid that something is attacking us—the greenhouse was recently wrecked, though you and the other students weren’t informed of this.”
“Maybe a student did that,” Tristan said echoing Merridy’s words.
“Maybe,” Alldusk said. “However, the greenhouse was locked from the inside, so we’re afraid whoever destroyed it used magic to break in.”
“And you think someone wanted to stop us from doing—whatever we’re doing?” Tristan asked, struggling to sit up. Alldusk took pity on him and propped a pillow behind his back.
“That’s a good guess.” He sighed. “The idea that someone outside of this school can use magic is a very disturbing thought. And it means that the last thing you’d want to do is run into that person while stranded miles away from the Lair.” Shaking his head, he got to his feet. “So you see why we’re trying to be careful.”
Tristan nodded, grateful that Alldusk hadn’t been angry with him. Of course, if the mountains were so dangerous, why had Merridy been allowed to send the students out there alone?
After lying in the hospital bed for some time, Tristan grew fed up and decided to leave. Though his whole leg jolted in pain, he was able to stand; biting his tongue, he hobbled to the door and limped up the two flights of stairs to the ballroom.
When he reached the doors to the ballroom, Tristan heard raised voices—it sounded as though the teachers were still arguing. He stopped and leaned heavily on the marble wall, listening.
“...telling you this was a bad idea!” Alldusk was saying loudly. “The kids don’t know enough; we’re practically guaranteeing they’ll come back in pieces.”
“What are you yelling at me for?” Grindlethorn said curtly. “Darla’s the one who gave the test.”
“Only because Drakewell forced me to,” Merridy said. Her voice was higher than usual. “I tried to argue, but he said he would work the maps instead of me if I refused.”
Tristan had no idea what this meant, though it seemed to catch Grindlethorn off guard, because he didn’t reply.
After a long silence, Grindlethorn said, “This is the boy’s fault, you know.”
“That’s not—” Alldusk began.
Grindlethorn cut him off. “If he knew he couldn’t handle the mountain, he should’ve stayed put,” he said stoutly. “He’s just foolish and weak.”
Tristan shoved open the ballroom door and limped in. “I’m not weak,” he said angrily.
The three teachers looked at him in surprise. Merridy dropped her fork with a clatter.
“There was an avalanche,” Tristan continued loudly, scowling as he struggled across the room. “I was doing just fine until the snow buried me.” He was getting tired of the teachers and their lies.
Alldusk gave Grindlethorn a significant look.
“This proves nothing,” Grindlethorn insisted, looking surlier than ever. “Fairholm isn’t very hardy, that’s all.”
“It’s not my—”
“What about the others?” Merridy whispered,
ignoring Tristan. “We know Rusty is fine, but Gerry has yet to see to the others. This argument should wait until Gerry returns.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Alldusk said gently. “Tristan’s test was harder than most.” Turning to smile at Tristan, Alldusk said, “Come eat. You must be famished.”
Thursday morning was cloudy, though it was much warmer than the previous day. Uneasy at being alone in the bunkroom, Tristan wandered up from the Lair to find that the layer of snow in the clearing had melted. His ankle still throbbed horribly with every step, so he couldn’t stray far—he just wanted to get away from the lonely halls of the school. He still couldn’t decide whether he was upset that he’d returned.
Past the greenhouse, up a forested incline, Tristan wandered until he came to a tumbling white stream. Though the stream wasn’t far from the school, Tristan’s ankle was protesting sharply by the time he stumbled to the soggy bank. Cursing, he sat heavily on a rock and stared at the foaming water.
It was quiet in the forest, aside from the merry churning of the brook—even the usual birdsong was muffled beneath the clouds. The mildewed smell of the mossy river reminded him of the shores of the lake below the school, and of the eerie feeling that lake had given him, as though it belonged in the realm of the dead.
As he traced the water upstream, watching a smooth fold of ripples curl across the dark rocks, Tristan saw something floating around the bend. It looked like an overturned log, bobbing along in the current; then the rest of the thing came into view and Tristan nearly fell off his rock in surprise.
Amber Ashton stood on the narrow log, floating serenely towards him. Somehow the log was fully suspended in the shallow stream.
“Amber!” Tristan called. “What are you doing?” He was afraid she would lose her balance and fall.
“No need to shout,” Amber said, stepping carefully onto the bank.
“What the hell are you doing?” Tristan stared at the log as it floated away. “You’re supposed to be going back to the Lair, not playing around with magic, or whatever that was.”
“I was floating,” Amber said, picking a stray twig out of her silvery hair. “Will you come with me?”
“All right, but—how on earth were you doing that?” He struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on a leafless branch. “You haven’t been stealing marbles, have you?”
Amber tilted her head sideways. “There are other ways to collect auras,” she said. When she turned to look at him, her blue eyes widened in surprise. “You’re hurt! What happened to your ankle?”
Tristan shifted his weight. “I twisted it. Don’t worry—it’s not that bad.”
Ignoring this lie, Amber dropped to her knees and took Tristan’s ankle in her hands. He sat once more on the rock.
“Where are your things?” he asked. “Weren’t you freezing last night?” Amber didn’t have a backpack or anything else with her.
“Hmm?” Amber’s eyes had clouded over, and she no longer seemed to be paying attention. Tristan didn’t bother to repeat his question.
After a moment, Tristan felt something in his ankle tighten painfully. He clenched his hands in fists. Then, to his amazement, the sharp pain eased.
“Crap,” he said, rotating his ankle from side to side. Amber looked anxiously up at him, letting her hands drop away from the bandages. “How did you do that?”
Amber let out her breath. “So it worked?”
Grinning, Tristan got to his feet. “You’re brilliant, Amber. It doesn’t hurt at all.”
For a moment Amber just watched him, smiling faintly. Then she said, “Why do we have to return so soon?”
“I’m hungry,” Tristan said. “And it’s cold out here. You’re actually the first one back, so you don’t need to hurry, but we should get some lunch.”
The ballroom was very quiet with nearly everyone gone—only Grindlethorn, Brikkens, and Gracewright were eating at the large teachers’ table. When Gracewright beckoned Tristan and Amber to join them at their table, Tristan did so reluctantly.
“Ah, my friends!” Brikkens said. He must have forgiven them for the incident with the lemon tree, because there was no hint of coolness in his greeting. “So good to see you, of course. Since you have the next few days to yourselves, would you like to help me arrange a little Halloween party?”
That was the last thing Tristan wanted to do. Gracewright saved him by saying, “Let them eat. You can discuss business later.”
Alldusk showed up halfway through lunch, dark circles around his eyes—he slumped into a chair and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Excellent job, Amber. I was worried at first, when you started out in the wrong direction, but...”
“I was exploring,” Amber said, eyes wide.
Tristan sat forward in his seat. “How are the others?” he asked quickly. “Are Leila and Rusty safe?”
Alldusk set his mug down rather heavily, sloshing coffee onto the back of his hand. “They’re alive,” he said, mopping up the coffee with his napkin. “Zeke Elwood will probably make it back by nightfall, and Evangeline Rosewell is heading in the right direction. As to Leila and Rusty...” He sighed. “Rusty seems to be completely lost, and Leila—well, she’s badly injured.”
“Then why didn’t you bring her back?” Tristan demanded.
Alldusk shook his head grimly. “She refused.”
“Well, you damn well should’ve brought her back anyway!”
“Sit down,” Alldusk said gently. Tristan hadn’t realized he’d gotten to his feet—fuming, he threw himself back into the chair. “I’m really sorry about this. The whole test has been a bit of a mistake, to be honest.”
Grindlethorn cleared his throat. “That’s enough from you,” he told Alldusk sharply.
Draining the last of his coffee, Alldusk got to his feet. “I should rejoin Darla. See you later, Tristan, Amber.” He nodded to each of them and swept off.
Tristan knew why Leila had refused help, of course. She would never let Zeke beat her if she had the choice, though the teachers should’ve known better than to allow her stubbornness, especially if she was injured.
Just as Alldusk had promised, Zeke arrived in the clearing before dinner, his dark hair bedraggled. Tristan had been sitting near the entrance to the Lair, pretending to do homework as he waited for his friends.
“Where’s your girlfriend, Tristan?” Zeke called out as he crossed the lawn. “She’s not back yet, is she? What an idiot.”
“Leave off on Leila,” Tristan said sharply. “She hasn’t done anything to you.”
Zeke snorted. Dropping his backpack in the middle of the clearing, he strode towards the Lair. “She’s a deceptive little bitch, if that’s what you think. I’d stay out of it, unless you’d like to find out how weak you are.”
When Tristan flew at him, Zeke slammed the door in his face.
Amber reappeared halfway through dinner, cheeks pink from the cold, to join Tristan at one of the smaller tables.
“Someday,” Tristan said, “you should tell me where you keep going when you vanish like that.”
Amber stirred her pumpkin soup idly, watching Tristan. “I like wandering,” she said. “Why did you spend the day sitting outside and staring at the trees?”
“I was waiting for my friends to get back,” he said indignantly. The excuse sounded feeble.
Even the teachers were surprised when Evvie appeared at the top of the stairs, disheveled and mud-streaked, before the end of dinner.
“Where is everyone?” she asked as she approached, glancing from Tristan and Amber to Zeke, who sat alone. “I was delayed—isn’t everyone back already?”
“No, it’s just the four of us,” Tristan said. “Come sit with us.” He pulled out the chair to his right.
Evvie looked suspicious as she slid into the seat beside Tristan, her mud-speckled clothes giving off the scent of pine smoke and sweat. Her bedraggled hair was lovely.
For a moment Evvie was quiet, filling her plate with lasagna and glancing sul
lenly at Tristan every few seconds. Then her curiosity overcame her annoyance.
“What’s taking people so long? Five miles isn’t very far, is it? Like I said, I was delayed. It shouldn’t have taken two days to get back.” She took a huge bite of the lasagna.
Tristan shook his head. “In case you haven’t noticed, some people can’t read maps so well.” He included himself in this generalization. “I’m pretty sure Zeke found his way back by sheer dumb luck, and Amber just understands more than the rest of us.”
Amber reddened slightly at Tristan’s praise; she looked as though she was struggling not to smile.
“Don’t lie,” Zeke said from the other table. “As soon as everyone’s back, they’ll hear about how you cried for help before the first day was up. You couldn’t last one night out there.”
“There was an avalanche,” Tristan said tersely. “I didn’t—”
“Boo, hoo,” Zeke said, “so it was a bit cold. I got stuck in the blizzard, same as you, but I’m not dumb enough to lie about a few snowflakes and call them an avalanche.”
“What’re you talking about?” Tristan said, confused. “The sky was completely clear; there wasn’t a blizzard.”
“Yeah, right.”
At the large table, the teachers were glancing shiftily at one another, perhaps deciding whether to intervene.
“I think you both are telling the truth,” Amber said mildly. Tristan and Zeke looked at her in surprise; she was toying with her napkin, eyes down.
“You boys are so immature,” Evvie said haughtily. “Where’s Professor Merridy?”
“No idea,” Tristan said. Merridy was probably monitoring the other students with Alldusk, though he had no idea how or where that was done.
Though Evvie had barely eaten half of her lasagna, she set down her fork and folded her napkin. “I’m going to bed now,” she said. “If you boys are going to be loud, don’t come in the bunkroom.”
Metal and Magic: A Fantasy Journey Page 42
