Metal and Magic: A Fantasy Journey

by Steve Windsor

  “Please tell me you’re showering first,” Tristan teased.

  Evvie gave him a hurt look and stalked away.

  After a moment of silence, Tristan decided he was no longer hungry. “You know what?” he muttered to Amber. “I’m getting awfully tired. I think I’ll head downstairs as well.”

  Amber blinked at him and said nothing, so Tristan licked the last of the melted cheese from his spoon and rose. As soon as he left the ballroom, he quickened his pace. Maybe if he just apologized to Evvie...

  She wasn’t in the bunkroom when he returned, and the lights in the girls’ bathroom were off. Where could she be?

  Evvie didn’t return for hours. Unable to sleep, Tristan read his medicine textbook, the Practical Guide to Magical Healing, which Grindlethorn had promised to quiz them over on Monday. The assigned chapter didn’t make sense, so he eventually gave up and scanned the index, looking for an explanation of how Amber had fixed his ankle.

  Zeke appeared before either Evvie or Amber returned, hair dripping from his shower. Looking bored, he slouched back against the frame of his bed and took a stolen gold marble from his pocket. After examining it for a minute, he began throwing the marble repeatedly at the wall. The marble thunked dully against the stone, over and over...

  “Quit doing that,” Tristan snapped, slamming his book shut. “I’m trying to sleep.”

  “No you’re not,” Zeke said. He threw the marble harder than before.

  BANG!

  The marble exploded, blowing a hole the size of a basketball in the wall. Bits of stone fell away, crumbling into a dusty heap on Zeke’s blankets.

  “Nice work,” Tristan said. What was up with Zeke?

  Scowling, Zeke brushed the marble dust onto the floor. “You’d better not tell the teachers.”

  “All right,” Tristan said. “Just shut up, would you?” Settling back with his face towards the wall, he dragged his pillow over his head. He hoped Leila had found somewhere safe to spend the night.

  It was late that night, or perhaps very early morning, when Tristan was startled awake by a hand on his shoulder.

  “Who’s there?” he hissed into the darkness.

  “It’s your favorite cook,” Quinsley’s voice whispered back. “The headmaster wants to see you and Amber right away. Don’t bother getting dressed.”

  Yawning, Tristan slid over the rail of his bed and pulled a sweatshirt over his pajamas. Amber was already standing by the door, and she nodded briefly at him before leading the way into the hall.

  Quinsley met them just outside the door, looking surprisingly cheerful for such a miserable time of night.

  “What the hell is this about?” Tristan grumbled, combing his fingers through his hair. “Why couldn’t Drakewell wait till morning?”

  Quinsley shrugged. “I think the headmaster wants to speak with the pair of you before anyone else gets back. He wanted to talk to you yesterday, but he was busy all day.”

  Tristan shared a confused look with Amber. Drakewell couldn’t be angry at them, could he?

  Drakewell was waiting just outside the doors to the ballroom.

  “Thank you, Gerard,” he said, waving Quinsley away. “Come here, you two.”

  With another nervous glance at Amber, Tristan followed Drakewell into the ballroom; only the platform with the usual tables was lit, which left the rest of the space cloaked in eerie shadows. Drakewell took a seat at the teachers’ table, and Tristan and Amber joined him.

  “You two are very quiet,” Drakewell commented sourly. “During the day, it’s getting you kids to shut up that gives me trouble.” Sighing, he put a hand to his black hourglass. “I have heard from two teachers that you both show a surprising aptitude for magic.”

  Tristan blinked in surprise. Praise was the very last thing he expected from Drakewell.

  “As you may have guessed, my duties as headmaster involve more than simply running this school. My position is vital to what we do, and it must be performed by someone with an excellent understanding of magic. When I step down, I—”

  The door to the kitchen creaked open, and Quinsley’s head poked around the corner. “Hot chocolate, anyone?”

  Drakewell gave a curt nod, and Quinsley brought over a pair of steaming mugs.

  “Thank you,” Tristan said, cupping his hands around the mug.

  “As I was saying,” Drakewell continued, “I will be stepping down eventually, and at this point I will need to leave a fully capable headmaster—or headmistress,” he said, with a nod at Amber, “—in my place. I will therefore train both of you for this task, provided you prove yourselves worthy.”

  Tristan took a sip of his foamy hot chocolate. “What if—well, what if we don’t want to do what—whatever you’re doing?” He tightened his grip on the mug.

  Drakewell’s hollow eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid this is not your decision, Fairholm. You and Miss Ashton have been chosen for this task, and if you refuse to comply, the consequences will be...unpleasant. Your training will not begin until next year, but in the meantime, I will be watching you closely. Any transgressions from either of you will be punished severely.

  “Furthermore, I will now entrust you with a secret. You must never speak a word about this, and must do whatever necessary to stay far away from this place.”

  Drakewell let the hourglass fall back to his chest and folded his hands on the table.

  “There is a room, hidden somewhere in this system of tunnels, that must never be found. Its door, made of wood, can be recognized by the image of a globe on its exterior. If you see this door at any time, you have strayed into forbidden territory. I will know, and I will make you regret ever setting foot in this school. Keep far away from this room, and protect it with your lives.”

  Tristan swallowed. If anyone else had said this, it would have sounded like a joke. Coming from Drakewell, it was unsettling.

  “Do I have your word on this?” Drakewell asked sharply.

  “Yes, Professor,” Tristan said at once.

  Amber nodded, her mouth slightly open.

  “You’ve been very quiet, Ashton. Do you even understand what I said?”

  “Oh!” Amber said, sounding hurt. “Of course I understand.”

  Drakewell got swiftly to his feet. “Good night, then. Speak of this to no one.” He strode away from their table and vanished into the shadows before he’d even left the ballroom.

  “Let’s finish our hot chocolate before we go back to bed,” Tristan suggested in a whisper. He was no longer tired; Drakewell’s words had startled him awake, though the meaning hadn’t quite registered.

  “Yes, we should,” Amber said. She was gazing into the shadowy depths of the ballroom, watching the place where Drakewell had just vanished. “If Drakewell thinks I’m slow, why does he want my help with his magic?”

  “He doesn’t think you’re slow,” Tristan said quickly. “He just...well, he doesn’t understand you. You’re a hard person to understand.”

  “I see,” Amber said in a very small voice.

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that!” Tristan said. “It’s like you’re something magical, and no one else is quite as—special—as you.”

  Amber’s face was growing stonier still.

  “Just ignore me,” Tristan said, upset with himself. “I’m no good at talking. But I think you’re amazing. Come on, let’s drink this hot chocolate before it gets cold.”

  Though she said nothing, Amber joined Tristan in sipping her hot chocolate. They sat in silence until both mugs were drained, and without a word they got to their feet and left the ballroom.

  When they reached the bunkroom hallway, Tristan immediately noticed the familiar swirl of silver patterns that he’d overlooked in their rush to join Drakewell.

  “Er...Amber?”

  She stopped and looked at him, her expression unreadable in the dim light.

  Tristan sighed. “I think I’m—uh—going crazy. Sometimes at night I see these strange shapes on the wall, but n
o one else can see them, and they’re gone in the daytime. What’s wrong with me?”

  This time Tristan could tell that Amber was smiling. “The glow is an aura,” she said. “Just as some plants have brighter auras than others, so do some types of rock. The walls are pretty, don’t you think? The people who built this place were artists.”

  Tristan opened his mouth and then closed it again. “Well, I’ve been an idiot,” he said. “Thank you, Amber. Thank you!”

  Tristan couldn’t settle to anything the next day. Amber had vanished once again, and no one else had returned from the test; when Alldusk and Merridy appeared for lunch, they announced grimly that the remaining students had barely made any progress. It was a relief when the afternoon drew to a close and Quinsley emerged from the kitchen to say it was time to collect the stragglers.

  “We’ll be having a bit of a feast tonight,” he told Tristan, who was writing out a chemistry essay in the ballroom. “Should be a treat after this miserable ordeal, eh?”

  Tristan nodded fervently. As Quinsley hurried up to the meadow, taking the stairs two at a time, Tristan closed his notebook and stuffed his books into his schoolbag. Then he went outside to wait for Quinsley to return with the helicopter.

  The evening sky was clear and purple, framed by silky peaks still clinging to their coat of snow. It was fully dark by the time Quinsley returned, and Tristan heard the chop-chop-chop of the propeller long before he could distinguish the white body of the helicopter.

  At last the helicopter settled onto the lawn, buffeting Tristan with a powerful gust of wind—he staggered, catching himself against the side of the building, and then hurried forward.

  Quinsley jumped out of the cockpit and waved at Tristan. “You’ll have to help me with Leila,” he called over the thrum of the propeller. Lowering his voice, he said, “She can barely walk, but she wouldn’t let anyone support her. You might have an easier time persuading her.”

  Tristan nodded, standing back as Quinsley opened the hatch in the helicopter’s belly. Leila was sitting just above the ladder, slumped against her backpack and clutching her knee. Though he couldn’t be sure in the dark, it looked as if her jeans were ripped and her leg was grimy with blood.

  “Leila!” Tristan said. “You look awful—why didn’t you let them pick you up earlier?”

  “Good to see you, too,” Leila grumbled. Gritting her teeth, she turned and lowered herself awkwardly down the ladder. “I’m not dying or anything; don’t look at me like that.”

  When she was almost to the ground, Tristan reached up and grabbed Leila’s waist to steady her; he could feel her trembling as she set her feet awkwardly on the grass.

  “I can walk, you know,” she said brusquely as Tristan put an arm around her waist to hold her upright. Despite her protest, Leila was leaning heavily on his shoulder.

  “I don’t think so,” Tristan said.

  This time she didn’t argue—without waiting for the other students to emerge from the helicopter, Tristan helped Leila hobble across the clearing and down the stairs to the ballroom.

  “I’m surprised so few people made it back,” Leila said, her tight shoulders relaxing as they passed through the invisible barrier and the warm air enveloped them. “I can’t believe Zeke managed without a compass...”

  Tristan snorted. “He’s ridiculous. I didn’t even make it back on my own.”

  “What do you mean?” Leila asked. When they reached the far side of the ballroom, she paused for a moment, resting her leg and clutching Tristan’s shoulder for support.

  “There was an avalanche,” Tristan said darkly. “I was picked up before the first day was over.” Sighing, he said, “I’ll tell you about it later—we have to get you to the hospital room.”

  As they started walking again, Leila seemed to brighten. “I wasn’t the worst, though. From what Rusty said in the helicopter, it sounds like he ran into Hayley on the second day.” She laughed. “Even working together they went the wrong way.”

  At last they reached the hospital room, where Grindlethorn took over from Tristan and forced Leila to sit down on one of the hospital beds.

  “Go on up without me,” Leila said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Hoping she was right, Tristan made his way up to the ballroom. When he joined Rusty at their usual table, Eli was telling him gleefully about a bear that had apparently attacked him.

  “What happened to Leila?” Tristan interrupted as soon as Eli paused for breath. “She didn’t tell me what happened to her leg—how’d she hurt it?”

  “Dunno,” Rusty said. “She wasn’t talking much when Quinsley brought us back.”

  “I wonder why,” Tristan said sarcastically.

  Grinning, Rusty turned his chair back to the table. “Aren’t you going to ask how I did?” He started piling food onto his plate—Quinsley had prepared smoked chicken kabobs, eggplant parmesan, and an overflowing platter of fruit.

  Tristan snorted. “Leila already told me you failed miserably.”

  “Yeah, but did she tell you about the ice storm?” Sitting forward eagerly in his chair, Rusty bit a piece of chicken off his skewer and said, “Me and Hayley got stuck in this massive ice storm. That’s why we got lost—there were huge icicles pummeling us, and we had to run into this creepy old forest.”

  “Honestly?” Tristan said. “Yesterday Zeke was going on about a blizzard, but I swear the sky was clear the entire time.”

  Laughing, Rusty shook his head. “You sure you weren’t in a different state, or something? What happened to you, anyway?”

  Tristan told his story as quickly as possible, making it sound as though the avalanche hadn’t happened on the very first day. Then he said, “I’m going to see how Leila’s doing.” He got up and pushed in his chair. “You should bring her a plate of food once you’re done.”

  Without waiting for Rusty to agree to this, Tristan left the ballroom and hurried down the two flights of stairs to the hospital. Grindlethorn was just finishing his ministrations when Tristan arrived—Leila was sitting up in bed, her knee wrapped with bandages.

  “I want to go downstairs now,” she said when Tristan pushed open the door.

  Grindlethorn shook his head. “You’re not walking on that leg, Swanson.”

  Leila scowled and swung her legs carefully over the side of the bed. “Well, I’m not staying in the hospital room. I won’t be able to sleep.” Tristan thought she was worried that Zeke would tease her for it.

  “Well, if you want to go anywhere, someone has to carry you,” Grindlethorn said.

  Leila rolled her eyes. “Tristan?”

  He laughed. “I can’t promise I won’t drop you.” Still, he crossed over to Leila’s bedside and slid his arms under her, one behind her back and one beneath her legs. When he hoisted her off the mattress, he tried his best not to jostle her knee.

  Leila clasped her arms behind his neck. “This is humiliating,” she grumbled as Tristan walked carefully from the hospital room.

  “Don’t worry,” Tristan said vaguely, trying to find the next step down. “The others aren’t back from dinner yet.”

  “Oh, I’m starving,” Leila moaned. “I didn’t want to say anything to Grindlethorn—I was afraid he might give me an hour of punishment just to be difficult.” Her hands tightened around Tristan’s neck, her fingers digging into his collarbone.

  Amber was in the bunkroom when Tristan kicked open the door; she looked up as Tristan carried Leila to her bed and set her down heavily on the mattress.

  “Thanks, Triss,” Leila said.

  Taking a seat beside her, Tristan flexed his arms to work out the cramps.

  A moment later the hall filled with the cheerful babble of voices. “I brought food,” Rusty called from the doorway, noticing Leila. Letting the door fall shut, he carried over the heaping plate of chicken and eggplant, which he set on her lap. “Now you can tell us what happened to you.” He joined Tristan at the end of Leila’s bed.

  Leila shrugged, glancing at
Tristan and then at the others. Eli, Trey, and Hayley were all watching her with undisguised interest—curiosity aside, they loved hearing Leila’s stories.

  “Oh, all right,” Leila said. She took a large bite of eggplant, sending the sweet scent of basil wafting through the musty bunkroom. Trey, Hayley, and Cailyn climbed into their bunks and sat watching her. Leila shoveled more eggplant into her mouth; only when the first slice was gone did she set down her fork and put the plate on the blankets beside her.

  “I was stupid,” she began in a low voice. “I figured out where I was at once, so I hiked more than halfway back that first day. When it started snowing, I sheltered in a cave for the night. Someone had been there before—there was a fire pit at the back of the cavern, with a pile of sticks already mounded in place.”

  Across the room, Evvie narrowed her eyes at Leila.

  “I decided to go exploring that night,” Leila continued. “I made myself a torch and went poking around at the far back of the cave. It turned out that the cave didn’t end there—I found a passage leading away from the larger cavern, about the size of the tunnels here.

  “That was when I heard a rumbling overhead. I looked up and saw that the ceiling was starting to crack apart, so I ran for it.”

  Pausing, Leila took one of the kabobs from her plate and slid a piece of chicken off the skewer with her teeth. No one moved—after a moment, Tristan punched her lightly in the shoulder. “Don’t be annoying.”

  Leila laughed. “All right, then.” She set aside the skewer. “There was a hideous creaking sound right overhead, and a huge rock crashed down on me, knocking me to the ground and pinning my leg down. I couldn’t move. My leg was wrenched sideways, and I started bleeding all over. I tried to shove the rock off my leg, but it was too heavy. Suddenly the ceiling rumbled again—the whole cave started shaking so much that the boulder was dislodged, and I managed to yank my leg free. I grabbed my backpack and crawled for the entrance, my leg hurting so much I could hardly see. Just as I reached the snow outside, the entire roof collapsed behind me.”