Mercury Mind (The Downfall Saga Book 1) (9 page)

“It’s about time,” said Cleary. “He tells me to wait up for him and then takes his sweet, bloody time coming back.”

Professor Cleary led Donovan to a corner office of the top floor of the building. Knocking, he entered without waiting for a response. Donovan started to follow him into the room, when Osmont, who was already in the room, asked him to give them some privacy for a few minutes. Retreating back into the hallway, he shut the door behind himself.

Donovan made sure that the hallway was deserted, before hesitantly pressing his ear to the door. The thick door blocked out most of the conversation, but Donovan heard a steady rumble of conversation, and could only make out the occasional word, like Zeren, vile, Clachward and impossible. After several minutes, there was a break in the conversation and Donovan hurried away from the door.

A moment later, Osmont appeared and motioned him in. Closing the door behind himself, Donovan got his first look at Headmaster Shelden Marrok. He sat behind a solid, wooden desk, a kindly grandfather dispelling his wisdom. Nebulous eyes, creased skin and quavering voice assessed Donovan in an instant before turning back to Professor Cleary. Despite the late hour, he was alert and full of energy, which was more than you could say about Cleary, lounging in a chair, head drooping to his chest every few seconds before he’d jerk it into the air again.

“Have a seat,” said Marrok, motioning to an empty chair facing the desk.

Donovan took a quick glance around as he made his way to the offered chair. It was the largest office he’d seen at Haven, cluttered but more interesting than the heaps of paper in Professor Cleary’s office. Pale moonlight spilled through the many windows doing battle with the fiery light emanating from the large fireplace. Shelves full of gleaming metallic artifacts were spread around the perimeter, and a mantle full of carved statuettes rested above the fireplace. An old, dusty robe hung from a hook on the wall behind Marrok’s desk. The room was deathly silent, except for the occasional popping of the fire, as Donovan crossed the room and sat down.

“It sounds like you’ve had an eventful day,” said Marrok. “I am hoping that you can enlighten us to what you did to attract the Clachward's attention.”

“I don’t know what happened,” said Donovan hesitantly. “I was watching Osmont dealing with the two of them and he was heading into the forest to look for more when one grabbed me from behind, and carried me off.”

“This is most strange,” said Marrok, stroking his chin. “I’ve heard of them smashing things into pieces if it’s in their way, but never carrying someone off.”

“Perhaps someone has created a more intelligent version, which was trying to separate them,” said Cleary, awake and alert once more.

“Unlikely,” said Marrok. “No disrespect to you, lad, but it could have crushed your head like a melon with less effort than it would take to carry you off. Alas, we will not sort this out tonight. I’ll send some men into the woods tomorrow and we’ll see if they discover anything.”

“Right, to the matter at hand,” said Cleary. “New students will be arriving tomorrow and we need a decision on Donovan’s admittance.”

“I’ve spoken to the two of you individually on the topic, but perhaps you can give an account for each other,” said Marrok, looking at Cleary and Osmont in turn.

“I started with the standard test,” said Cleary in a bored tone. “He could barely light the orb. It was, by far, the weakest power that I’ve ever seen, but he undoubtedly has the Gift. His control is exceptional for one his age and his defense is better than some fully trained wizards, but,” he raised his hand to forestall Osmont’s interruption, “his power is so weak that he is no danger to those around him, which is our primary purpose here. It would be a waste of time to allow him to study here.”

“I believe that we should allow him to study here, but not for the normal reasons,” said Osmont quietly. “As you know, I’ve been searching for information regarding the symbol carved into Donovan’s chest. While I couldn’t gain access to the Royal Library, I have a trusted friend searching it for me. What I did find in one of our libraries is this.” He withdrew a thin book, bound in black leather with golden writing, and set it in front of Marrok.

“Blood Magic,” gasped Marrok. “Are you sure or is this only a guess?”

“It’s a guess that I’d stake my reputation on,” said Osmont.

“Donovan, would you?” asked Marrok, motioning with his arm.

Donovan stood up to remove his cloak and pull off his shirt.

“Who could do such a thing?” said Marrok.

“Only a psychopath would do such a thing to a boy,” said Cleary.

“Nobody doubts that,” said Osmont. “A couple of days ago, I would have sworn an oath that nobody on this continent was trained in Blood Magic, let alone had the mastery to create something like that.” He pointed at Donovan’s chest. “Now I’m worried that there’s something nefarious happening that we’re not aware of.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with his admittance,” said Cleary, rising from his chair. “If you have nothing else, I’d like to get some sleep.”

“We have a duty to figure out who did this and provide Donovan all the help we can. If we’re keeping him around here until we find a way to nullify it, then I don’t see the harm in letting him study at the same time. For all we know, the Blood Magic is sapping his strength, and once we break it, we’ll find that his power is comparable to his peers.”

“I still think that it’s a waste of our time,” said Cleary, still standing in front of his chair. “If his power increases, then we can always admit him next year. With the control that he’s already demonstrated, I feel comfortable delaying his training for a year.”

“I agree with both of you,” said Marrok, in a quiet, quavering voice. “This is a most unusual case. My decision is to let Donovan decide, but know this, if you decide to enroll then you will be required to remain for an entire year of instruction, and I can assure you that it won’t be easy for someone with your limited Gift.”

Donovan started to put on his shirt to buy time to think. Despite the shirt blocking the room from his sight, he could feel the three sets of eyes on him. A day ago, the only thing that he knew was that he wanted to study here. Now, barely a day later, he desperately wanted to find the people who had done this to him, to find out why they did it, but more importantly, to discover who he is.

He sat there silently for a long time, deliberating on a decision which could possibly shape the rest of his life.

K
ort climbed the narrow, snaking path towards the gate leading to Haven. Exhausted and disheveled from four days of walking and three nights of sleeping out in the elements, he knew that he was late arriving, but all he wanted was to pull off his boots and have a nap.

Craning his neck, he could see the light from a series of torches illuminating the wall far above him. With his destination in sight, he put on a burst of speed. Rounding a switchback in the path, he nearly collided with a small figure dragging a large trunk behind.

“Don’t hog the trail,” said Kort.

“Why don’t you give me a hand with my trunk and I’ll be out of your way sooner,” came Ravyn’s exasperated reply.

“Maybe if you asked me nicely,” he said, attempting to squeeze past the trunk, but giving up when he looked down over the edge of the path.

Letting go of the trunk, she spun around, hands planted on her hips, the moonlight reflecting off her soft, round face. “I’m a lady and I expect you to help me.”

“Where I come from, women pull their own weight, and if somebody wants help, they’re nice about it,” he said.

“Where I come from, men act like gentlemen not beasts of burden.”

“Yet you expect me to become your beast of burden and haul your stuff for you.”

“No, I want you to assist me in carrying my belongings up to the gate.”

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” came a commanding voice from behind.

“This lady,” said Kort, “packed herself a trunk that her body can’t carry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Prince Caddaric. “I’m your prince, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll move out of my way. I’m already late enough thanks to the Queen’s extended goodbyes.”

“I’ll get out of your way as soon as the princess up there gets out of my way,” said Kort.

“Princess,” she said, her icy tone more biting than the wind swirling around the mountains.

“If you had helped her, then neither of you would be in my way now,” said Caddaric.

“Exactly,” she said, “finally someone with some sense.”

“Alright, I’ll take an end just to get you out of my way,” said Kort, picking up an end of Ravyn’s trunk. “What did you fill this with?”

“Only the essentials.”

With each of them carrying an end of the trunk, they began to travel up the path again. “Hey,” said Caddaric, “aren’t you going to help your prince?”

“You were doing just fine on your own up until now,” he said.

“You will regret getting on my bad side.”

“Fine,” said Kort.

They readjusted their positions and started up the path again. Ravyn leading, Caddaric in the rear, and Kort still in the middle, the handle on Ravyn’s trunk in his right hand, Caddaric’s in his left. Scuttling sideways along the path, he alternated between staring down over the edge of the path and almost scraping his nose on the stone wall as they followed the switchbacks up the side of the mountain.

Kort gratefully set down the two trunks when they passed through the heavy wooden gate into Haven. Kort got his first look at his new home. The whole complex was basked in the late afternoon light, the air already cool despite it only being early fall.

Nestled in a nook, high up between two mountains, it sat in a flat, wedge shaped area, bordered on two sides by the steep walls of the mountains and a high, thick wall bordered the front face. Two imposing buildings rose up near the center of the yard, splitting Haven in half. The buildings reminded Kort of the church back in Blaine, plain stone construction, tall diamond shaped windows, devoid of any adornments. A shiver ran down his spine, knowing that he was going to be living in one of those buildings. A stone courtyard covered the area in front of the buildings, with only a few hardy weeds poking through the gaps between blocks, and Kort could see grass, trees and bushes, all well-trimmed, growing on the far side of all the buildings.

Two men, huddled in fine cloaks, waited to greet them.

“Hello, to you all,” said a kindly old man, coming forward to shake their hands. “I’m Headmaster Marrok.”

A pale, stooped man stayed at Marrok’s shoulder, focusing on the paper in his hand and not offering to shake hands. “I’m Professor Cleary,” he said absently.

“Prince Caddaric Kelvin,” said Caddaric, stepping forward to introduce himself first.

“Ravyn Thaliard,” said Ravyn, shaking Marrok’s hand.

“Kort Byron,” mumbled Kort, not looking Marrok in the eyes when he shook his hand.

“Good, good,” said Cleary, marking the paper in his hand. “We’re only waiting on one more.”

“Where are we with the living quarters?” asked Marrok, quietly.

“Bad,” said Cleary. “Mrs. Betha’s got them packed in there as tight as we dare. Attendance has almost doubled over the last ten years, but I’d expected that at least a few of them wouldn’t show up.”

“We have no choice but to turn the storage room into a temporary dorm. Are all of you okay sharing a room?”

The three of them looked at each other uneasily, none of them wanted to spend any extra time in each other’s company, but not wanting to disappoint the Headmaster, they all agreed.

“Donovan, can you show these people to the west storage room on the top floor, and let Mrs. Betha know that she needs to setup the room?,” said Marrok.

“No problem.” Donovan separated himself from the stone bench on which he had been lounging and glided over to the gate. “Am I staying in the same room?”

“I suppose so,” said Cleary, studying his paper. “Ask Mrs. Betha to set it up for five people, and try to hang a curtain or something to give the ladies some privacy.”

“We’ll be joined by another girl?” asked Ravyn.

“As long as she shows up,” said Cleary.

They made their way up to their new home, the four of them sweating to lug the two trunks up to the top floor. The room was currently occupied by tables and stacks of chairs. Dropping off their belongings, Donovan led them down to the hall in the basement where Mama B was serving supper.

They were the last to arrive and many tables sat empty, their owners already retired to their rooms. The smells in the room reminded Kort of supper at home, simple dishes, expertly prepared.

“Why don’t you go grab some grub and find a table, while I tell Mama B about our living arrangements?” said Donovan, sliding his way between busy tables and disappearing through the doors into the kitchen.

They dished up at the serving stations near the kitchen and claimed a table. Even Caddaric had to admit that the food was good enough for the royal table.

Three kids occupied the long table that they had sat down at, meals in various stages of consumption. They all introduced themselves to each other.

Clyde, shifty eyed and rat faced, was blaring out a story for all to hear, spittle flying, as they sat down.

Thurl glanced at the tapestries hanging around the room in awe, mouth open, his meal cooling in front of him. His handshake could crush iron.

Clyde introduced them to Bodhi, head resting on the table, emitting soft snores.

Clyde entertained them for the duration of their meal, regaling them with tales about his parent’s travels around the world. They were merchants, the greatest ever according to Clyde, and once he finished his training, he would surpass even them.

Donovan and Kort excused themselves early to help assemble the room where they’d be living. Ravyn and Caddaric seemed quite content to remain behind until the heavy lifting was done.

Caddaric patiently waited until the end of the meal, after Clyde had told them a tale of how his parents had daringly bluffed their way into the wedding between the Duke of Wain’s daughter and a noble from one of the lesser houses in Beric, to reveal his royal heritage. Clyde nearly choked on his drink, trying to swallow and apologize at the same time. Having received the desired effect, he stood, gave a slight bow, and retired to his room.