The Broken Academy 2 : Power of Magic

by Jade Alters

  “Most of the other Core Lines…they’re not like my family. They’re old school. Core Lines and all, they tie biology heavily to Magical prowess” Helena prefaces. The next part follows a long pause and a hard swallow. The cruel words of others burn her throat as they climb up like bile. “They say…I betrayed my nature, changing the body I was born with. They say I’ve turned myself into an abomination, spat in the face of the gifts I was given. They don’t see me as worthy of a spot on the Committee, and since I’m my parents’ only child…”

  “They want to remove your family from the Committee altogether?” I fill in the painful blank.

  “Yeah,” Helena confirms. I shake my head, hand over my mouth.

  The Dalshaks don’t happen to factor in gender to their pillars of prestigious tradition, but this is a familiar brand of pain to me. Helena - Harry back then - was really the only friend I was permitted at Clearlake. The status of the student’s family was the most important factor of compatibility to Mother, when arranging playdates. Harry was the only one of them I could stand. I wasn’t permitted any hobbies, either, outside of ones that helped sharpen my trickery. I was lucky to be born without a flair for the dramatic, which saved me a whole host of floggings my brother couldn’t avoid. The mantle of expectation weighs heavy on the shoulders - yet still, none of it amounted to the burden Helena has had festering in her conflicted soul. No one’s here to tell me what right is at the moment, but I know it isn’t this. At this moment, I couldn’t be more grateful to have the only person who gives me a sense of a moral compass as a roommate.

  “Who knows your nature better than you?” I ask. Helena looks at me with a sort of teary-eyed pout. She’s actually thinking about it, as if I’ve posed her some kind of riddle. “Who, Helena?”

  “No- no- no one, I guess,” Helena stammers at last.

  “Don’t guess. You’re right. No one does. You know yourself best,” I tell her. The slightest twitch of realization shoots through her cheeks but it’s hardly even a half-measure. The confidence isn’t there. Confidence is the backbone of all great decisions, Mother’s voice grates in my ears. “Do you feel like you’ve betrayed your nature?” I dig in.

  “I…I don’t-”

  “Are you Harry, or Helena Bartos?” I ask, when I see her eyes dart back and forth in uncertainty. What great crime her family has committed, while they go to sleep at night seeing their hands as clean. They’ve murdered her sense of self. They’ve drilled in doubt where concrete foundations should stand, unshaken. “Which are you? Go on!”

  “Helena!” she belts out without thinking. There it is. The second her bottle of stress is uncorked, some of the relief at the bottom comes rushing out. Her face shifts from frustration and fear to relief. She looks down at herself, almost surprised at the word. Helena. Something more powerful than doubt inside her knew the answer all along.

  “See? Now don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise,” I tell her, gripping her shoulder, “You understand?”

  “You… You’re one tough bitch, Emery,” Helena laughs.

  “And I don’t let anyone tell me otherwise,” I remind her of my advice with a pointing finger and a smirk. It works more efficiently than any trick, to remove up tear ducts in an instant. Helena gives one last sniffle and sits up a little straighter. Now she’s done crying, I lean in with a tissue and wipe away some of the mascara streaks that have run down her face. “You know…you’ve always been better at makeup than me,” I admit, to laughter from both of us. “You shouldn’t let other people ruin the composure you work so hard to put together.”

  “Sit up straight and all, right?” Helena says, just like the day we met.

  “And all. Good, you remember. It’s important,” I remind her. Helena chuckles at how uptight I get as I say it, just like Mother. I permit myself a little smirk. It vanishes as something shoots through my head, from one ear to the other. The best way to describe it is a static hum - a low-frequency that stings the far reaches of my brain tissue. The first note of it drains me of every emotion and thought other than - find a quiet place.

  “Emery. Report,” Mother’s voice buzzes through my head. I slide off the side of Helena’s bed.

  “You okay?” Helena asks. Maybe I was a little too abrupt, but Mother is already hammering the inside of my skull for an answer. I can’t be late on my first report.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I force a smile back at her, “just got a little queasy. Gonna hit the bathroom.”

  “Alright…” Helena says. I feel her eyes on the back of my head as I zip straight there and slam the door behind me. I snap the lock closed. I plop on the toilet and put a finger to my temple to bridge the connection between Mother and myself, eyes closed.

  “Emery, reporting.” Those two words act as the key in an illusory lock. The second the seal is broken, a blue-green light spirals out through the blackness behind my eyelids. For all intents and purposes, I’m not inside the Broken Academy anymore. My body might be there, slumped over on the toilet, but my mind is in Mother’s impenetrable, illusory conference space. She emerges in her flawless business attire from the cloud of teal stardust swirling around us. We meet in the eye of the cranial storm.

  “You need to answer right away, when I call for you,” Mother says, as soon as I can see her clearly.

  “I apologize mother. I was in the middle of a conversation with my roommate,” I explain. I give it like the details of a report. One hint of defensiveness, and Mother will sniff it out like a bloodhound.

  “That hardly matters. You respond immediately in the future. You don’t need to use your lips. Return the signal the same way I send it. With a trick,” Mother instructs me. Her tone is identical to mine. Though I’ve clearly made what she sees as a mistake, there is no hint of anger in her voice. Rather, she sings a consistent song of disappointment that’s lasted her whole life long.

  “Yes, Mother,” I tell her.

  “Well. You said reporting. Let’s hear your report,” Mother chides.

  “I’ve scored above perfect on all of my first unit tests. I’ve befriended both of my roommates, one very affectionately,” I tell her. I’m not sure precisely why I don’t mention who it is. Part of the reason might be that I assume Mother already knows about Helena. The other part…might hope she doesn’t. If I can keep Helena separate from Mother and Father’s schemes, I will, as long as I can. I’d rather not see her used as a piece on their board. “I also established a social relationship with an Astral boy who lives down the hall.”

  “Is that all?” Mother asks, when my last line rattles off.

  “Yes.”

  “You haven’t procured permission to use basic tricks outside of class?” Mother rewords more specifically. The tinge of disappointment is a little heavier in her voice this time.

  “Not yet,” I tell her. I keep my straight face trained on hers, much as I want to look away. Showing shame now would be a mistake she would surely capitalize on. “I have won the favor of Fey Hartgen and Mage Maurice. I only need one more reference to put in for authorization to trick outside of class.”

  “You won’t need to wait that long,” Mother says, shaking her head, “I have an alternative solution that doubles as community involvement to deepen your cover. Sealbreaker.”

  “Sealbreaker?” I echo the word in a moment where I’m weakened by surprise. I expect Mother to dig in on it, yet she continues as if I’ve said nothing.

  “You are familiar with the sport, yes? You didn’t play, but Clearlake had their own miniature league,” Mother offers to help jog my memory. I hardly need it. Some of my fondest memories at Clearlake involve the days away from the tedium of class, when my class sat out on the bleachers to watch the Sealbreaker finals play out.

  “I’m familiar, yes. You…want me to join a Sealbreaker team?” I ask, to confirm.

  “Is that not what I’ve implied?” Mother quips back. I should have known better. My only job is to answer questions here.

  “It is,” I comply,
when Mother’s stare burns into my forehead, like a scalpel seeking what could possibly be inside.

  “Yes. Sealbreaker requires the use of abilities outside of class. If a team accepts you, you may request an exception to the three-reference rule of outside-class trick authorization,” Mother explains. Of course, I had surmised as much already. What Mother elects to leave out of this equation is that the Sealbreaker season is already well underway. The chances of any team accepting new players now, let alone a first year…to say they’re slight is too generous. But under the weight of those expectant black-pearl eyes, I say:

  “I will investigate the teams tomorrow.”

  “Very good. Your next report will be in a week. Bring a jersey with you,” Mother says. I note her deliberate omission of any alternative.

  “Yes, Mother,” I say. She nods and lifts an effortless hand. The teal stardust swirls out around us, blowing away on the current of her trick’s wind. She fades to black, leaving me nothing more to do but open my eyes. The connection is broken. I’m back in the bathroom of room B-22.

  The perfect spot for this bullshit. I flush to maintain my cover and leave without another word of this ridiculous mission. The only thoughts in my head are the beginnings of a plan to accomplish it.

  Captain Rock

  Rock Cloud

  The Broken Academy, Rec Field

  It’s a good practice. The last little chunks of rust from our time off between terms are finally shaking loose. I’ve got my trusted Disruptors opening portals to blink the Goalstone from one side of the field to the other in an instant. I’ve got my newest member on Cavalier position, Bryant. His matter corruption abilities have been key in knocking other teams’ Disruptors back in our first few games. I’ve finally perfected my rapid shift between cheetah and hawk too, to start the match with a healthy handful of mystical Pins. The way is open for team Cypher Stream to the top of the Sealbreaker ranks. Things are looking good for me, as Captain and future chief. I’ve got to bring some kind of trophy back to the Ahwahneechee Longhouse at the next gathering, if I’m going to reign in the villages who don’t think I have what it takes. Hell…I’ve only just started to believe I do.

  Needless to say, there’s enough on my plate before Emery Dalshak comes waltzing out onto my Rec Field in the middle practice. It’s at the heart of the Academy’s four residential wings, so I hold onto hope she’s just passing through. But she keeps looking me right in the eye. It puts a sinking feeling in my gut that comes to fruition when she shouts out:

  “Hey! You guys are Cypher Stream, right?” Now my gut performs a triple backflip. Did she seriously just come out here and shout that into the air? Any chance I might have had to save her some trouble vanishes on the hot wind that shoots out of every other member of my team. All of them except Bryant, that is. He just watches, as clueless as Emery as to why this was the worst idea she could ever have had.

  “Sorry, Sally, we didn’t open applications for a cheer squad this year,” one of my Disruptors, a female Magician named Soerilla, bites instantly.

  “I figured, or you’d be on it,” Emery snaps back immediately. The counter is so swift, Soerilla is actually left stunned for a second. The whole team is. The situation is so surreal I almost laugh. Is this really the same girl I met at the Founder’s Dinner all those years ago? She’d been so quiet then. Always messing with some puzzle game, dragging her feet around a step behind her parents’ coattails. Now here she is, walking in here like she has a right to stick her nose wherever she wants. The scariest part about it is that the way she carries herself almost makes me believe she does. Gone is the curious child with the puzzle box. This woman has the flat, unfeeling face of her Mother and the upright, dignified poise of her father. “Well? Are you still recruiting?”

  “Even if we were,” my other Disruptor spits out like venom. Emery’s words reignited the fire that lit in the team the second she showed up. Each of them closes in on her a step. “That door will never be open to you.”

  “Stuck up Dalshak scum,” the other Runner on our team, my partner on the field, snips. Yet Emery stands her ground. She looks right past the circle of faces gathering close to her, to me. She must know, somehow, that I’m the Captain. I wonder if she recognizes me. I’m three times the size I was when we last met, and my Chief’s braid is almost complete. It dangles halfway down my back, adorned every six inches with a binding clasp of beads from the trials that made me.

  “Am I supposed to know why that is?” Emery asks. Her hands hang at the ready, should anyone make a more serious move, but she shows no signs of retaliation. Not yet. Still, I know what she can do with those hands. I saw it myself. That was years ago, and she was only putting on a demonstration for my father, and I was terrified.

  “Your family has looked down its noses at the Captain for years! You have the gall to walk in here, your first year, and-”

  “That’s enough, Soerilla,” my baritone voice rumbles over her. My Disruptor quiets herself in an instant. She shoots me a confused glare and I see how hard it is for her to pinch her tongue between her clenched teeth. But, aside from Bryant, I’ve put my reputation as future Chief on the line beside the members of this team for five long years. When I bid quiet on the field, quiet always follows. A step forward from the Captain parts the team in two directions, opening me a path straight to Emery. “You must know all the things my team has said already. Your family and mine…have long since cut ties.”

  “Yes. I remember the last dinner we all had together. It didn’t end well,” Emery states, without hints of malice or repentance. If I weren’t surrounded by my Sealbreaker teammates, I might flat-out ask what her deal is. It’s driving me crazy - even crazier that I can’t ask. I stare into those sunburst brown eyes, and I have absolutely no idea what I see. A cocky daughter of a prestigious family? An innocent in an ancient dispute, come to bear an olive branch? An angry girl looking for a fight - or maybe even an unspoken plea for help? In her, I see all of these and none at the same time.

  “It didn’t end well…because…how did your father word it?” I prompt her, to root out Emery’s real motive. I open my mouth again to remind her of the exact phrase that divided our clans, but she shocks me again by beating me to the punch.

  “Her kind had no place on the Council, so she had no place at the Founder’s Dinner,” Emery recounts, verbatim. She says it just the way her father did, too. With a frustrating lack of hate and an infuriating amount of surety. Like the Dalshak word is law. No, it’s more than that - laws can be disputed - like the Dalshak word is truth. It’s all I can do to keep from shifting into a cobra and filling her throat with some venom of my own. My team teeters on the edge of bum-rushing her until she says, in a completely different tone, “Is that all you and I amount to? The ideals of our families?” Everything about her changes in an instant. Like a hard piece of caramel that’s been in the microwave just long enough, she softens. Her voice. Her stance. The very lines in her face.

  “So what, this is some kind of…peace offering?” I ask her.

  “If that’s what you want to call it,” Emery says, “Try…if you can, to pretend like this is the first time we’re meeting. Because, really, it is.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Soerilla scoffs before I can respond. But Emery’s grinning, near-golden eyes never look away from me.

  “You…you go by Rock now, don’t you?” Emery asks. A sharp tremor runs up and down my backbone. I know where she’s going with this. I wish she wouldn’t. I can’t guarantee her safety if she speaks the name I forbid even my team from using. “As someone who’s known you some time…I know that wasn’t your given name.” My chest tightens up. “I’m trying…to be less of them, and more of me. I thought maybe you’d understand.” The condensed bullet of air fires from my lungs when she goes on without uttering the name. I can picture my team tearing her limb from limb, if she’d only said it. The traditionally given name from my clan.

  “You mistake me,” I tell Emery. I
have to, at least in front of the others. No matter what strings of sympathy her sad song plucks in my heart. If there’s one thing I learned from the people who gave me that unspoken name, it’s that a mask of strength is a key part of the Chief’s attire. “I call myself Rock to honor my father, who still sits on the High Seat of Chief in our Longhouse. When I’ve earned that spot for myself, I’ll take the name the Elders gave me. I don’t want to be less of anyone. I’m already exactly who I want to be,” I lie. Another skill that comes with the mantle of Chief. I need my tribe to believe what they hear, regardless of the objective truth. Right now that tribe is my Sealbreaker team. Really, I can’t picture a steeper ladder than the one I have to climb to the Chief’s seat.

  “So…you maintain the prejudice of your family, though I’ve left mine behind. I can’t blame you... I see this was a waste of time,” Emery says. Her eyes bounce down to her shoes, then back up to mine. Damn her for looking at me like that. She knows just what buttons to push. She takes a step back from me, and the team takes one towards her. I stop them with a hand up in the air.

  “I maintain no prejudice, only a standard. One I won’t lower just because you asked nicely,” I tell her. Emery continues to backpedal, slowly, nodding her head.

  “It’s a shame… I would have made a good Disruptor,” Emery tells me. I, along with the rest of the team, drop my jaw when a violet light envelops her body. It shimmers brightly for about a second, then Emery’s body dissolves into amethyst embers that scatter up to the sky. The well-oiled team, Cypher Stream, devolves into a group of bewildered children, wheeling around in search of the real Emery. We’ve been talking to a trick, maybe the whole time.

  “Captain!” Bryant finds her first, and calls all of our eyes with a pointing, demonic finger.

  I follow it to the top of our Goalstone. Emery sits with her crossed legs dangling over the side of the fifty-pound cubic boulder we would normally transport downfield to the Goal Chute, during a match. A distance roughly the size of a football field separates them. Emery jumps this gap in a second with a snap of her fingers. A portal opens directly beneath our Goalstone. Emery plunges right through along with it. She emerges from the corresponding illusory gate right above the Goal Chute. She hops off the top as the Goalstone plunges deep into the pit in the ground. A white beam of light fires up at the recognition of a score. A new Goalstone grows from the soil of the Rec Field, just where the first one was, while the hovering scoreboard clicks up to one point for Cypher Stream. Emery doesn’t stick around for the satisfaction of the buzzer, or the tick of her score. She turns on her heel and heads for the opposite edge of the field the second she unboards the Goalstone. Soerilla jerks forward to pursue Emery instantly. The only thing that stops her is my fingers grasping her shoulder.