Outcast: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Warden of the West Book 1)

by Annabel Chase

  “That’s good to know. Goodnight, Mia.” It felt strange to say that. I hadn’t wished anyone goodnight since my mother was alive. Even Icarus and I went to bed without exchanging pleasantries.

  “Goodnight, Bryn.”

  I rested my head on the soft pillow and strived for sleep. Insomnia, however, had other plans for me. I tossed and turned, struggling to quiet my brain and drift off to sleep. Finally, I gave up as I often did, and climbed down the ladder of my bunk to the floor. I shoved my feet into a pair of purple Spellslingers slippers adorned with a glittery gold ’S’, and quietly left the room. I padded down the hall, finding this wing eerily silent. With a building full of young adults, it surprised me how well behaved everyone seemed to be. I blamed Prefect Chambers for his uptight standards.

  The occasional sconce on the stone walls illuminated my path. If only I could tell my mother about this place. She’d have asked questions about details I hadn’t even noticed—her doctor brain at work. She always tried to get me to think about a situation from more than one angle, the way she did whenever she diagnosed a patient. She loved getting it right. The recovery process gave her a lot of pleasure. Helping people in general gave her a sense of purpose. I knew that was one of the reasons she fell hard for my father. He’d been in desperate need of help when he was brought into the emergency room, and then his miraculous healing began. I was pretty sure my mother believed they’d had some kind of otherworldly connection. That was before she knew his true identity, of course. Even then, it had taken a certain amount of persuasion to convince her that sorcerers and other paranormals were real. That magic was real. Despite her big heart, my mother had been a highly logical person. I assumed that was the reason my father ended up revealing his true nature—to convince her that what he’d told her was factual.

  Factual. No doubt my father’s colorful life in this realm would have left a paper trail. For every story like Theo Armitage had, I bet there were ten more that detailed his evil deeds. The coup attempt, at the very least, had to be worthy of a written record. I decided to head for the library. Maybe I could find information about him there. I’d much rather research him when no one else was around anyway. I didn't want anyone asking questions about my interest in the dark sorcerer.

  I left the residential wing and took the path to the stone steps of the library. I hoped the gargoyles were asleep. I didn't need my bedtime look critiqued by Fred and George. I already knew I had bedhead, no need to point it out. Thankfully, their eyes were closed when I crept up the steps to the main entrance. Robin said that the library never officially closed, so I was about to put his statement to the test.

  No one manned the desk when I entered through the transparent ward. Much to my relief, the library appeared to be empty. I hadn't yet been given instructions on their version of the card catalog system, so I had no idea where to start in my search. I headed to the nearest shelves and began to browse the spines. It’s Elemental, My Dear Witch: Earth, Wind, Fire, Water and You. What’s Your Poison? A History. Love on the Rocks: A Guide to Love Potions. I chuckled at a few of the other titles. These were definitely not books I’d find in any human library. No wonder my mother had trouble finding appropriate books for me. They simply didn't exist in the human world.

  “You look in need of assistance," a voice said.

  I whirled around, looking for the source of the sound, but I didn't see anyone. "Who's there?" I asked, attempting to sound more nonchalant than I felt.

  "I thought you must be new," the voice said. "I recognize most of the faces that come in here, whether I choose to engage with them or not.”

  I peered into the darkness. The voice seemed to emanate from the wall at the back of the room. I walked past the rows of books until I reached a giant eagle’s head mounted on the wall. It reminded me of a hunter’s trophy and the thought made me slightly queasy.

  The eagle’s beak parted. "What's your name, dark-haired one?”

  I stifled a scream. “Holy…it’s you! You’re the one talking.”

  “Who else would it be at this hour? Celeste won't be here until eight. You’re stuck with me, I'm afraid."

  "Who are you, exactly?" I asked.

  "Cato," he replied. “I provide counsel and knowledge to worthy students.” He scrutinized me. “You seem worthy enough.”

  “How did you end up here?"

  "You mean stuffed on a library wall?" Cato queried.

  "Well, I wasn't going to be crude about it, but yes."

  "I was a fierce enemy of Mercer,” he said.

  That name sounded familiar. “The academy’s founder?”

  “The very one. I died honorably during a battle over a border dispute. Mercer respected me so much that he took my head to a necromancer.”

  “Just your head?"

  "The library was much smaller then," Cato explained. “I had to fit.”

  “Were you some kind of eagle shifter?” I asked.

  Cato gave an indignant sniff. “I’m a gryphon.”

  “Oh. Mounted on the wall like that, you only look like an oversized eagle.”

  “There was nothing I could do about the lion part of me,” Cato replied. “That body is long gone, but it doesn’t make me any less of a gryphon.”

  “No, of course not,” I said quickly, not wanting to insult him. “And you offer assistance to students?"

  “The worthy ones, and the occasional staff member," he said. "You'd be surprised what some of them pretend to know. The human resources committee really ought to up their game.”

  "Do you know all the books in this library?" I asked.

  "Not necessarily, but I can certainly point you in the right direction," he said. "Bear in mind, however, that not all knowledge is found in books."

  That was something I’d learned from my mother. "I'm looking for information on a sorcerer.”

  His expression brightened. “Ah, a class project already. I love these. Which sorcerer have you been assigned?"

  “Volans Moldark.”

  His head shrunk against the wall, as much as a mounted head could. “Spell’s bells. Why would you be interested in a dark overlord like that?"

  I chewed my lip. "He's that evil?"

  "Top ten in my book, and that’s saying something,” Cato said. “I’ve seen a lot of dark overlords over the years.”

  I inclined my head. "What sort of things has he done?"

  Cato whistled. "You name it. Murder, mayhem, crimes against the government. Even tried for a coup. That was his last stand, though."

  My brow wrinkled. "What do you mean? He stopped committing crimes?”

  “Well, yes. It’s hard to commit crimes when you’re dead.”

  “Dead?” I repeated.

  "He didn't survive the coup,” Cato said. "Everybody knows that."

  A lump formed in my throat. No, not everybody.

  "You’re saying that he's permanently dead?" I struggled to form the words. “Not just incapacitated?”

  "Which rock have you been hiding under?" the gryphon asked. “It was big news throughout all four quadrants.”

  “When?"

  Cato paused to think. "I'd say it was about thirteen years ago, by my calculations.”

  My stomach clenched. Thirteen years ago. That couldn't be right. "Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely," Cato said. "Chancellor Tilkin attended the immolation ceremony, along with other members of the Board of Regents.”

  My legs nearly crumpled, and I reached for a bookshelf to steady myself. "Dead," I repeated softly. That meant my father had died before my mother. That she and I had spent years hiding from someone who had no longer been a threat to us. I’d continued hiding even after my mother’s death, worried every single day that one misstep would lead him to me.

  "You seem unsettled," Cato said. "Was this not the information you sought?"

  "It was," I said weakly. “Thank you."

  "Will there be anything else this evening?" he asked. “The ingredients for a sleeping tonic
, perhaps?”

  "No, thank you,” I said. "I need to take a walk and clear my head." I stumbled away from him, finding it difficult to think.

  “That's not the exit," Cato called after me, but I carried on, unable to process anything except my own thoughts.

  Of course, my mother hadn’t known of his death. How could she? She had no ties to his world. She’d done everything in her power to sever contact, so that he could never find us. It was no wonder that word never reached us. My mother likely believed he was invincible.

  I forged ahead, unaware of my surroundings. I appeared to have wandered into the museum wing. I took the nearest staircase and headed down to the lower level. I shivered as the temperature changed. It must have dropped five degrees.

  No one had been hunting us, at least not for the past thirteen years. Had my father or his minions ever searched for us? Had he ever intended us harm? I would never know.

  I walked down a narrow corridor, uncertain where I was. Not that I cared. I couldn't go back to my room in my current state. The tears hadn't even fallen yet. I was in too much shock.

  Surely, it should come as a relief. I should feel lighter. I no longer had to worry about a drop of my blood falling into the wrong hands. Granted, I still didn't want anyone to know my father's identity. That could only mean trouble for me. His enemies could decide to use me for revenge, even after his death. Others could hold his evil actions against me. They might assume that I’m as poisoned as he was.

  To my right, I noticed an open door. All of the other doors on this level had been closed until this one. It was dark and quiet—the perfect place to cry. I stepped inside and immediately noticed the weapons strewn around the room. Gleaming swords and golden staffs. Spears, knives, and crossbows. This was either some kind of messy storage room or paranormals had been training back here and left a disaster in their wake. I was so busy dodging the weapons around me, that I didn't see the body in front of me until I tripped over it. I went sprawling across the floor and crashed into the base of a pedestal.

  "I'm so sorry,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  The body remained unmoving. I moved closer and recognized Calvin Motley, the Master at Arms. His eyes and mouth were open. Then I saw the pool of blood beneath his head.

  Definitely not okay.

  “Who’s in here?” a gruff voice demanded. A bright light flashed in my eyes.

  Uh oh. This was going to be hard to explain.

  6

  I sat huddled in a blanket in the chancellor's office, sipping a cup of peppermint tea. At least I thought it was peppermint. After seeing the oddities in the dining hall kitchen, I wasn't so sure.

  Hestia was curled up on the corner of the desk, watching me with detached interest. Her orange-hued tail flicked back and forth like a metronome.

  "And you saw no one in the library or the museum?" Chancellor Tilkin asked.

  “Only the guy on the floor," I said.

  "Calvin Motley," she reminded me. “And what were you doing there at such a late hour?"

  "I was having trouble sleeping, so I decided to go for a walk," I replied.

  The chancellor studied me. "It's a lovely summer evening. Why not walk around the lake? I would have thought water would be soothing to you in times of stress."

  I didn't want to tell her that I'd been looking for information about my father. Then I would have to tell her his name.

  "I thought the library might be more peaceful," I said, and managed a smile. "No mosquitoes."

  A man stalked into the room, his nostrils flaring. "Is this the culprit, Lindsey?”

  She observed him coolly. "I am with a student, Mr. Tipperary.”

  “Forgive me, Chancellor," he said through clenched teeth. "Ask her where the sword is." His anger was palpable.

  Chancellor Tilkin turned her attention back to me. "Craig Tipperary is our museum director. Craig, this is Bryn Morrow, the student who discovered Calvin’s body.”

  Tipperary glared at me. “Discovered? Or dispatched?"

  "I didn't do anything," I said heatedly. "He was like that when I got there."

  Tipperary folded his arms. “That's a restricted area. You shouldn't have been there in the first place."

  "I was exploring," I said. "The door was open. I didn't know it was off limits."

  “The wards weren’t working, Mr. Tipperary,” the chancellor said. “They must have been disabled.”

  Craig Tipperary turned his focus to the chancellor. "She must be working with someone, and passed the sword off to them.”

  "I'm not working with anyone," I insisted. "I don't even know what sword you're talking about."

  "Skofnung, the legendary sword of the Danish king, Hrólf Kraki,” he spat. “It’s missing from that room.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” I replied.

  “She’s lying, Lindsey…Chancellor, I can feel it.”

  The chancellor looked from the museum director to me. "Mr. Tipperary is a vampire, my dear. He has a keen sense when it comes to…matters of deception.”

  "I'm telling the truth," I said. "I didn't see what happened. I didn't hurt him, and I did not take the sword, or pass it off to someone else. I don’t even know anyone else, other than the people…paranormals I met yesterday.”

  Tipperary shook a finger at me. “That sword is priceless. It’s one of the sharpest and hardest blades in existence. Even without the berserkers, the sword would be immensely valuable.”

  I scrunched my nose. “Berserkers?”

  Tipperary gave an exasperated sigh. “She can’t be this ignorant, can she?”

  The chancellor’s jaw tensed. “Mr. Tipperary, Miss Morrow has only just joined us from the human world. Her knowledge of our world is incredibly limited.”

  “Clearly,” he snapped. “Skofnung is imbued with twelve spirits.”

  “Berserker spirits,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said, visibly irritated. “They served as the king's faithful bodyguards during his lifetime, and continue to serve the sword in death.”

  “You're right," I said, setting down my empty cup. "That does sound like a special sword. I still had nothing to do with taking it.”

  Tipperary glanced at the Chancellor. "And you’re so quick to believe her? What if this is her entire purpose in coming here?"

  "I think you'll find I am the one responsible for bringing her here,” the chancellor said. “Miss Morrow did not come to us.”

  He cast a sidelong glance at me. "Didn't she? Perhaps that was her plan all along. How was it that you happened upon her?"

  My fingers grasped the arms of the chair. The vampire was determined to pin this on me.

  "That's quite enough, Mr. Tipperary,” she said firmly. “When I have more information for you, I shall pass it along. For now, you are dismissed.”

  He opened his mouth to say more, but seemed to think better of it. He strode out of the room with a scowl on his face. I had a feeling that was close to his usual expression.

  “Now, let's have a chat, shall we?" She twirled the tip of her staff in the air, and the door to the office closed.

  “I thought that's what we were doing," I said.

  “Mr. Tipperary is right about one thing,” she said. “You’re hiding something. I sense it, too.”

  Were they all walking lie detectors? No wonder the students were all so well behaved. No one could get away with anything.

  “It's nothing to do with the sword or Mr. Motley," I said. "It's personal."

  “I take it this personal secret is the reason you were in the library in the first place."

  I shrugged the blanket off my shoulders. "I was telling the truth about my insomnia. I really did take a walk because I couldn't sleep."

  "I often read when I'm struggling to sleep," the chancellor said. "Tell me, child. Which book did you choose?"

  “I didn't make it that far," I said.

  “Because you decided to prowl around in a restricted area.”

  "I wasn't prow
ling," I huffed. "I was in a daze."

  She regarded me carefully. "It should be apparent to you, Miss Morrow, that I have taken a chance in bringing you here. Mr. Tipperary is right. The circumstances are suspect.”

  “You don't believe me?"

  “I believe that you are hiding something important," she said. "If you tell me what it is, I may be able to help you."

  I buried my face in my hands. If I could trust anyone at the academy, it was Chancellor Tilkin. She’d taken a chance on me. Now it was time for me to take one on her.

  “It's about my father,” I said.

  "The father you never knew," she said. No surprise that she had a good memory.

  "Yes. I wanted to research him in the library because I know very little about him."

  The chancellor chuckled softly. "Our records are excellent, but we certainly don't keep books on every magical being that ever existed, not in the academy.”

  “You would have information about this one," I said. "His name was Volans Moldark.”

  The chancellor recoiled as though I'd struck her. “Impossible. There is no record of a child."

  "And I had no record of his death," I said. "I've spent my whole life hiding from him. My mother was convinced that he’d hunt us down and kill us one day. I found out tonight that he died before she did. That we’d hidden all those years for nothing. I was in shock and I wandered downstairs. I couldn’t think straight.”

  “No, I imagine not,” the chancellor said softly.

  I plucked at a loose thread on the blanket. If I pulled hard enough, maybe the material would unravel, same as my life.

  Chancellor Tilkin continued to digest the information. “And your mother was human, you said?"

  I nodded. "She was an emergency room doctor. My father had been gravely injured and she treated him. She was surprised by his rapid recovery. She’d been certain he wasn’t going to make it when they’d brought him in.”

  “How old are you?" she asked.

  “Twenty,” I replied.

  She nodded vaguely, as though confirming something in her mind. “And you never met him?"