Quest Maker (4 page)

Ms. Primrose's affection for villain keeping was foolish, but there was no convincing her of that. She believed herself beyond their schemes. There was one thing, however, that she seemed to value even more than her evil teachers.

“I thought the school was your true treasure,” Caden said.

Ms. Primrose narrowed her ice-blue eyes, and Caden saw Jasan's fingers twitch at his side. “Do you have a point, dear?”

Caden did have a point. In his mind, he conjured images of Razzon, of the deep snows and the majestic beauty of the Winter Castle. He felt honor for his homeland. Searching, he found a small spark of the same for Asheville. “I have pride in my home and in your school.”

The room warmed a bit. “Is that so?”

The secret to charming Ms. Primrose was sincerity. He nurtured the spark. “It is,” he said, “and it's a quality too many of your villains lack.”

A glint of amusement returned to her hungry eyes. “Perhaps you think I should collect heroes instead?”

She shouldn't collect people at all. He doubted she'd ever be convinced of that. But Caden couldn't lose Jasan like he'd lost his sixth-born brother, Chadwin. The rigging dagger flashed in his mind. He pushed thoughts of it aside. Right now, he needed to save Jasan. And better Jasan be kept than be dead. “Let Jasan teach,” Caden said.

“I'll consider,” she said. It didn't sound like she was happy about the idea.

Jasan's quick gaze darted back and forth between them. His right hand was tight around Caden's arm, his left hand hung loosely at his side, his concentration appeared intent. Caden moved closer to him. He needed to keep Jasan from attacking, and he needed to convince Ms. Primrose that
Jasan was teacher material.

“Jasan is better than any villain you could collect,” he said. “He could be your first hero.”

Ms. Primrose glanced at Jasan like he was a tasty bit of meat. “Heroes aren't sent here, dear.”

Never had an Elderdragon uttered a more ridiculous statement. Truth be told, Caden hadn't met any other Elderdragons, but he was still certain. Caden was a future Elite Paladin and Jasan already a hero many times over. Ms. Primrose was obviously wrong. But neither the Elderdragon nor the old lady in her seemed to appreciate it when he told her of her failings. Few creatures did.

Ms. Primrose peered at him, then flapped her hand at the door. “You've said your piece. You can return to class.” When he didn't move, she added, “I'm going to eat you both if you don't run along.” Then she arched a brow, perhaps amused, definitely hungry, and rubbed her stomach. When Caden still didn't leave, she shook her head and pushed the button under her desk. “Mr. Creedly,” she said, and Caden knew he was done pleasing her at that point. “Escort Caden out.”

A moment later, Mr. Creedly slunk into the office. He wrapped his long, cold fingers around Caden's right wrist. “Come with me, young one.”

Caden's skin felt like it was being pricked by a hundred tiny teeth. He tried to catch Jasan's gaze. He needed to warn him to be respectful and unappetizing, but Jasan
was now watching Mr. Creedly like he knew exactly what he was and was calculating the easiest way to dispatch him while removing Caden from his grasp. It seemed Caden was moments from being tugged between the two of them.

Foolish they all were, however, to forget the dragon in the room. Suddenly, Caden felt dwarfed by the small old woman behind the desk. Caden, Jasan, and Mr. Creedly looked at her. The pansies on her dress seemed stark, like flowers on rock; the skin on her arms shimmered blue as if made of scales.

There was no time to explain to Jasan the danger of Ms. Primrose and her fickle nature, or that the math teacher down the hall was Rath Dunn, the great enemy of their people. If Caden stayed in the room, Ms. Primrose would lose her fragile temper.

The best way to appeal to Jasan was with emotion. Caden feared for him. If Caden showed Jasan that fear, Jasan might believe the situation was dire. He pulled away from both Mr. Creedly and Jasan and spoke in the royal tongue. “I'll survive my classes.”

Jasan reached for Caden like he wanted to keep him close. There was no time for that now. Caden couldn't stand to lose another brother.

“Agree to teach the Ashevillian physical education class. Sign her contract.” Caden lowered his voice. “Do whatever it takes. Please. Just don't get eaten.”

A
s Caden trudged back down the hall to class, a noise louder than a herd of stampeding thunder cattle roared down the hall. He almost jumped out of his boots. The booming came from the front of the building. Then there was a second loud boom. The hall tiles fractured and a crack traveled from floor to wall, then up between two sets of lockers.

The school's alarm bells began to wail, and the pale pink-gray doors vibrated. The emergency lights turned on and off, on and off. Green gas began to seep up from the crack. Caden smelled something foul, like the fruits of a Razzonian fartenbush.

In the Greater Realm, inhaling green gases was often deadly, and the green gasses that didn't melt people turned them into giant frogs. Neither was a good fate.

He turned back toward Ms. Primrose's office, but that end of the hall had become shadowed in blue. Over the alarms, he heard a low, hungry growl. Every instinct Caden possessed screamed that that direction was not the escape he needed.

Then he realized Jasan was still there.

Caden felt a rush of air at his back as the green, choking gas surrounded him. There was no time. He needed to be free of the gas, and he couldn't help Jasan if he was dead or froggy.

He used his coat sleeve to cover his mouth and nose, turned, and dashed toward the main exit. The enchanted wool would protect him from the gas. At least, he was mostly certain it would. It was best he run fast, though, and keep his head above the densest parts of it.

Near the front entrance, the gas was thin and diffused. He heard sirens blaring outside. The heavy double doors were open, the day bright beyond them. A short man in a firefighter's uniform saw Caden running, grabbed his arm, and dragged him outside.

As Caden felt spring grass slick under his boots, he turned back. The school looked like a gray castle. The mountain behind it was brown and green, the sky a piercing blue. With green gas billowing from the broken science-classroom window, it seemed no mere middle school. It truly did look like a prison where monstrous villains were kept.

Was Jasan still inside? Was he all right?

“What did you do?” Brynne said.

Always, she snuck up on him. One day, he'd surprise her. She looked him up and down with a concerned frown. Her long hair blew in the breeze. Her ivory blouse was the slightest bit wrinkled. She shifted her gaze from him to the green gas flowing from the science-classroom window. “No signs you're turning into a frog, prince,” she said. “Good. You were unbearable as a frog that last time.” Then she scrunched up her face and sniffed. She leaned closer, did it again, and flinched. “But you smelled better.”

Caden smelled nothing but prince-like and pleasant. He scanned the crowd for signs of Jasan or Ms. Primrose. “That's the gas,” he said.

She scrunched up her nose. “It's you who walked through it.” She stepped back. “Don't get that smell on me.”

The firefighter looked between them and frowned. “Are you two all right?”

“I'm fine,” Brynne said, and smiled. “He's as he always is, difficult and troublesome.”

Caden was neither difficult nor troublesome. He was charming and easy. He told the firefighter so but the firefighter looked skeptical.

No matter. Caden didn't have time to convince peasants of his likable nature. He needed to find Jasan. Where was he? Caden took in a deep breath.

Something did smell bad. Brynne sent him a pointed look. He was about to reiterate that it was the gas, not him, and they needed to find Jasan, but before he could, a
familiar voice said, “Caden, Brynne, are you all right?”

Officer Levine, the police officer who had imprisoned them in foster care, walked toward them. He was short and stout with bushy brows. Like Rosa, he didn't see the truth of the middle school, its villainous teachers, and its Elderdragon administration. To him, it was just a middle school.

“You look pale, son.” Officer Levine said. “And you smell like a sewer.”

“It's gas,” Caden said.

“Yeah, that happens to me sometimes, too.”

Caden didn't respond. He leaned around Officer Levine. Likely, Jasan was outside. Jasan was smart enough and fast enough to avoid noxious, green, frog-causing hazes. Maybe he was near the building's corner? There was a firefighter there, but no one else.

Officer Levine leaned down and blocked Caden's view. “Son, we should get you checked out. Did you inhale any of the gas?”

With a sigh, Caden motioned to himself. “I'm obviously not a frog,” he said. That didn't seem to alleviate Officer Levine's worry. Caden demonstrated his sleeve-to-mouth strategy for defeating the haze. Putting his hand back down, he said, “My magical coat protected me.”

“Uh-huh.”

Officer Levine pointed to a group of sequestered students and paramedics. “Go sit over there with the other kids who were exposed to the gas and wait for a paramedic. Rosa's
coming. We're closing the school until the gas is purged.”

Reluctantly, Caden joined the group of other smelly kids. Brynne sat atop a small, nearby brick wall and watched while a paramedic poked Caden's royal person and checked his vital signs. While the paramedic took his pulse, Caden scanned the area.

Tito and Jane stood in a huddle of students. Mrs. Belle, the science teacher, was hunched over near another student group. Her clothes were more wrinkled than usual. She tapped her bloodred fingernails against her hip. She was ashen. As she should be—it was from her science-classroom window that the green gas billowed. And there was the matter of Ms. Primrose seeming hungrier and less in control than usual.

Mr. Bellows, the tall, skeletal-looking English teacher, stood near the lawn's edge. He had the distinctive look of a necromancer—one that animated and controlled the dead. Ms. Jackson, the beautiful young-looking lunch witch and dark magic master, stood on his right. She cackled. The grass by their feet looked dead. More dead plants.

Near them stood Rath Dunn. He was dressed in a rich crimson-colored shirt and tie, and burgundy pants. His bald head shone in the sun. His left eye was dark and crinkled with laugh lines; the right was pale blue and split by the deep scar that reached from that eye to his mouth. When he saw Caden, Rath Dunn grinned like a wolf and waved at him. Caden caught the glint of red metal under his sleeve.

It was magical item number forty-three, the blood dagger. It was the evil token with which Rath Dunn had been banished. Any wound by the dagger would reopen in its presence and would never be fully healed. It was supposed to be useless in the Land of Shadow.

That uselessness was yet another thing the Greater Realm Council had wrong. Rath Dunn had slashed Caden's upper arm with the dagger. Although it was a small wound, Caden could attest that the blood dagger still worked. He spontaneously began to bleed whenever he was too near it.

But it was not Caden's blood that Rath Dunn needed. Although with Chadwin dead, Caden was the seventh son, Jasan was still and always would be the seventh born. It was Jasan's blood that Rath Dunn was after. No matter how Jasan had wound up in Asheville, he was here, and he was in danger. Ms. Primrose wanted to eat him. Rath Dunn wanted his blood.

Caden turned to the students around him, fellow victims of the gas, told them of his noble brother, and asked if they'd seen him. None had. Truthfully, many seemed too distraught to answer.

When the paramedic turned, Caden eased away from the group. He went to Brynne. She would understand.

“Go back to the smelly group,” she said.

There were matters more pressing than tile-cracking green gases and stink. “Jasan is here. I saw him.”

Brynne blinked at him for a moment. “What?” Her gaze darted around, and she straightened her blouse.
“Prince Jasan is here?”

“I have to find him before Rath Dunn does. And before Ms. Primrose devours him.”

Brynne remained stunned for a moment. Then she hopped from the wall. “I'll help.”

The crowd parted for Caden. It seemed his classmates were finally acknowledging his status. Then Olivia, a girl with freckles and glasses from his math class, shooed him away. “I'm sorry, but you smell so bad,” she said. “Please go somewhere else.”

In the school's drive, parents picked up students. Rosa drove up in her extended cab pickup, parked, and stepped out. She was dressed like an Ashevillian sunrise in a bright orange shirt and deep pink pants. Her gray-brown hair was pulled back and frizzed around her face. She scanned the crowed and waved Tito and Jane to the truck. No doubt she'd also want Caden to return home.

He couldn't do that. Not before he found his brother.

He grabbed Brynne's hand and pulled her toward the side of the building. Once they were hidden by the stone wall and a Dumpster, she pulled her hand from his. “The Dumpster smells better than you, prince.”

Brynne liked to insult Caden, but she also often helped him, and she was a sorceress. She knew how to find lost things. “Would a location spell find Jasan?” From what he knew of mind magic, location spells weren't simple. But Brynne was strong. “Could you do that?”

She bit her lower lip. “Maybe,” she said. “I don't really
know him that well. And it won't work at all if he's too far away, or asleep, or unconscious.” Her voice trailed off. “Or eaten” hung unspoken in the air between them.

Caden's cell phone buzzed in his left pocket. He pulled it out and checked. It was Rosa. He didn't answer.

A moment later, Brynne's phone started playing harp music—her ringtone for Rosa. Brynne had separate ringtones for everyone. To Brynne's credit, she looked momentarily guilty. “We'll get in trouble for ignoring her,” she said.

He held her gaze. “Just find Jasan, sorceress.”

Any signs of guilt vanished, and she grinned, seemingly lost in the thrill of magic and mayhem. “I'll need something of his. Something related.”

Caden catalogued his possessions. He had his Summerlands compass in his right pocket. It was engraved with the kindly Sunsnake. The compass could, usefully, locate freshwater, test for edible plants, and navigate direction. It had been given to him new, though. Never had Jasan owned it. He had his coat, but it was a gift from his father. The only other things he owned were his Ashevillian clothes, his cell phone, and his magic paper clips. None of these things were related to Jasan.

Brynne reached out and grabbed Caden's hair. She yanked him closer. He felt his face flush. With an arched brow and a sly smile, she jerked out several of his short hairs.

“Ow,” he said, and rubbed his head.

“There,” she said. “You're related to him. Your smelly hair should do.”

His face was still hot. “You don't amuse me.”

Her delighted expression implied Brynne amused herself plenty, however. Then she closed her eyes. Her brows furrowed together, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

Caden felt his phone buzz with another call. Likely, it was Rosa again. She didn't believe Caden about many things, but she treated him well. It was unkind not to answer. On the stone wall, there was a small fissure, and he traced it with his finger.

After a moment, Brynne opened her eyes. Now her face looked strained, her eyes tired. “He's close,” she said. “The woods—downslope from the cafeteria.”

Caden was a flash of speed on soft, green grass. He bolted down the hill. Brynne called after him, but he didn't stop until he was past the mixed fir trees and oaks that guarded the perimeter of the forest.

A few strides past the edge, the woods became strange. Something was wrong even by Ashevillian standards. At his feet, the ground seemed dead. Little sunlight entered and no spring saplings sprouted from the dark leaf litter. The trees were devoid of green leaves. The oak bark was brittle and the evergreen cedars were a mud-brown color. He saw neither living plant nor animal nor Jasan.

Brynne caught up with him. She rested her hand against a dead oak and caught her breath.

Caden peeked behind the trunk of a large black-barked tree. “Where is he?”

“Here?” she said.

Here there were only dead trees and rotten earth. “He's not here,” Caden said.

He felt his phone buzz again and pulled it out, untangling it from the enchanted chain of paper clips. Another call. This time it was Tito.

Caden answered. “Hello,” he said as he searched the trees and ground.

Tito spoke in a hush. There was an echoing quality to his voice, like he was in a small space. Caden imagined him hunched in the backseat of the pickup. “Bro, where are you? Rosa's looking for you and Brynne.”

Caden kicked at the dead leaves and dirt around his feet. “We'll be back when we can.”

“And when's that?” Tito said. “Look, come back, now. Don't annoy Rosa.” Tito was protective of Rosa. Truth be told, Tito was protective of many people. If Tito understood, he'd help.

“My brother is—” Caden started.

Over the connection, Caden heard Jane. “Rosa's coming back.”