The Breakers Code (18 page)

     I opened the drawer. Finding a pen and slip of paper, I went to work. Deciphering the code, I leaned up and looked at the finished message in front of me.

     If you can read this, you’re ready. Come to the garden. Fool the dragon.

     -The Girl in the Tower

Chapter 10

Fooling the Dragon

     I looked at it for a second, wondering if what I wrote down was even real. Was there really a message in this letter or was it just nonsense? Was this a test and, if it was, did I pass? Who was the girl in the tower, and why on earth was there a dragon in the garden?

     These questions were crazy, but my time at Weathersby told me that things like normal didn’t matter here. And, if I wanted my questions answered, I’d have to do what the letter said; at least to the point of going to the garden.

     I opened the dresser beside my bed and found a whole new wardrobe. And not even the bland brown and white Dahlia-esque stuff they left for me earlier. This stuff was cool. Designer jeans, some hoodies, a couple of pairs of Sketchers; it looked like these guys were finally getting the idea. I changed into my new clothes and slipped out of the room.

     I found the common area dark and empty, save for the lone lights that were also on the first time Casper and I were drug through here. The classroom areas were barren too and, when I pushed outside, I found out why. It was pitch black outside; well into the night. I must have slept all day. But, as I made my way toward the garden in the distance, I learned that wasn’t all. It turned out that no one was inside because everybody, everyone in Weathersby, was in the garden.

     The adults; teachers, custodians, and the like, lined up along the edges of the gigantic garden, watching the student body inside. But what were they doing?

     The garden had been transformed into a maze; its once straight rows of daisies, sunflowers, violets, and, petunias were overgrown and had contorted themselves into massive floral walls. Hedge walls that shot up at least eight feet tall created dozens of intersecting pathways that branched off in a bunch of directions. Fountains stood at each corner of the maze; water bubbling out of stone angels that held either harps or arrows, depending on which side you were standing. A stone door arched at the far end, obviously indicating an entrance. It was so rundown with its age marks and vines sprouting flowers and grapes, that it made Hernando’s worn feet look showroom ready.

     Cliques of kids ran back and forth within the maze, darting between the hedge walls and rose bushes. A light mist danced along the edges but got downright thick once it reached the maze.

     “What are you doing out here?” A man asked me as I neared. He was lean and long; so thin that, when he turned to look back at the crowd, I was afraid I might lose sight of him. His dark hair was streaked with gray and ended in curls that rested on his shoulders. His face was gaunt, with cheekbones that you could grate cheese with. “Shouldn’t you be in there having fun?”

     As soon as the word fun left his thin lips, a bright shot of green flew up from somewhere inside the maze, bursting like fireworks as it stretched up into the sky. The crowd- Well, half of it anyway, exploded into loud rounds of applause. “Look, they’ve burst through the Moonblood’s defenses. You’re missing the best part,” he smiled.

     His eyes narrowed and then lit up. “Wait, you’re the greenie aren’t you, or the new girl, more appropriately? I’m Dr. Static. I teach Implementation of Prophecy. You’re something of a celebrity around here. Brand new Breakers are strictly theoretical. Well, until now, I suppose. It’s nice to meet you.”

     He stuck a hand out for me to shake, though it was filled with a cinnamon sugar soft pretzel. “Oh!’ He shuffled, stuck it in his mouth, and offered me his hand again.

     “I’m Cresta,” I answered, shaking it.

     “A pleasure,” he said, his words muffled by the pretzel. Cinnamon sugar fell in clumps from his lips.

     “What’s going on?” I asked, wiping a layer of glaze I had picked up from Dr. Static’s hand on the front of my jeans.

     He smiled and ripped out a chunk of pretzel.

     For somebody with a name like a super villain, he sure does seem cheerful.

     “It’s the game; Fooling the Dragon. It’s the biggest night of the semester; counts for a third of your grade. You know, for those who actually go to school here,” he shuffled and made the amendment.

     My mind flashed back to the letter.

     Go to the garden. Fool the dragon.

     Was that what all of this was about, to get me to come to some stupid game?

     “I don’t get it,” I brushed blond bangs out of my eyes. “You guys do all this; turn the garden into a giant maze just for some game?”

     “Who’s to say the garden doesn’t always look like this? Eyes are overrated in terms of dependability; that’s what I always say,” he grinned.

     I stifled a grimace.

     Stupid Breaker illusions.

     Another flash of light; this one blue and shaped like a tidal wave, appeared at the center of the maze and parted, breaking apart into smaller ripples as it spread. Now, the half of the audience that didn’t applaud the last time; Dr. Static included, started laughing and cheering.

     “What is that?” I asked.

     “Sensory illusion; looks like a class B one to me too. Very impressive. Breakers create and modify energy known as the shade. It’s not real but, once mastered; the illusionist has the power to make his victims believe it is. My guess is, right now, that Dragon brigade is under the impression that they’re drowning in the wide open sea.”

     “What the hell kind of game is this?” I asked, walking toward the edge where the grownups were standing. A bright yellow line; like glowing painter’s tape, ran in a square across the garden, separating the game from the people watching it.

     “Everyone’s favorite, of course,” Dr. Static answered, still cheering. “It’s fun and educational.” He frowned a little when he realized I still didn’t know what he was talking about. “It’s a prophecy, Greenie; one of our most important prophecies. It’s about the end of the world, and the Breaker who’s responsible for it. The prophecy states that an extremely powerful Breaker; the Moonblood, will one day set into motion a series of events that the Earth will never recover from. He’ll crush entire civilizations under his boot and his reign of terror will be like none that’s ever existed before.”

     He pointed from one side of the maze to the other.

     “It’ll only stop when the dragon comes, rips his throat out, and ends the horror once and for all.” He gave me a playful nudge. “You really need to come to my class. This is all first-year stuff.”

     He leaned down so that his face was level with mine and pointed toward the maze again. “There are two teams in the game; the Moonbloods and the Dragons. The members of each team draw cards. One of the Moonbloods is determined to be the Moonblood, or the Destroyer, while one of the Dragons is determined to be the Dragon or the Redeemer. The members of each team have to keep their figurehead from falling into enemy hands while also trying to capture the opposing team’s figurehead themselves. The team that is able to do that wins the game.” He made mock air quotes and let his voice slip into a dramatic singsong . “And with it, the fate of the world.”

     “And some of you guys are pulling for the Destroyer guy?” I asked when a spark of blue electricity shot down like lightning into the center of the maze and Dr. Static did a Tiger Woods-esque fist pump.

     “Well, they’re not actually the Destroyer. And besides, the teachers have a betting pool.”

     I smirked and shook my head. “Hey, who’s the girl in the tower?” I asked, wondering if he could help me.

     “You mean like a seer’s tower? There are no seers in this game.”

     “Oh, well I’m gonna go,” I answered, but Dr. Static had other ideas.

     “I don’t think so, Greenie,” he said, and pushed me across the glowing yellow tape. “New Moonblood!” He yelled and his half of the audience started cheering again.

     “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said and walked back to the tape. When I reached it though, my feet stopped moving. I couldn’t do it. The tape wouldn’t let me pass.

     “Can’t get out ‘till the game’s over,” Dr. Static chuckled. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it.”

     A swirl of red energy, like exploding cherry bombs started nipping around my Sketchers. I kicked, dancing like Ashley Simpson on SNL, trying to put it out. Everybody started laughing and, through a flush of anger, I heard Dr. Static say, “Better get in there, Greenie.”

     I sighed and ran into the garden maze, figuring I could at least douse my feet in one of the fountains. But as soon as I rounded the closest hedge wall, everything changed.

     I tried to remind myself of Dr. Static’s words.

     Sensory Illusion, it’s not real.

     “It’s not real,” I murmured to myself, but it was hard. The garden maze stretched and flattened out. The flowered walls transformed into metal barriers accented with barbwire and spikes that jutted up into the air. The ground under my feet, lush and fertile from the outside, dried up and cracked. The grass, plants, vegetation, and shrubbery melted away. The scorched land heated up so much that the soles of my feet started to burn even more. I kept moving , afraid that if I stopped for too long, the heat would work its way through the soles of my shoes.

     I heard the sounds of fighting all around me; an explosion, scuffling, yells; but there was no one to be seen. I turned, thinking that I might exit the maze and just wait along the edges until the whole thing ended but, when I spun back around, the entrance I used had vanished.

     Sighing, I turned back around, only to be met by a sandstorm. Well, not exactly a sandstorm. It was more like a whirling dervish made of red crackling energy.

     “It’s not real,” I repeated, backing up against the now metal wall. It felt real though. I felt grains of sand showering my face; a precursor to the storm that inched closer. It sounded real, whipping against my eardrums and drowning out my once loud surroundings. It even smelled real; like heat and the desert.

     My doubts started to disappear as I continued to back up; pressing my back against the unyielding wall. This wasn’t some illusion; not when I could see, smell, and feel it. This was real, and it was going to kill me. Unless, of course, I ran.

     I darted away from the twister just as it collided with the wall, sending sheets of sand spraying in every direction. The winds were heavy and almost knocked me off my feet, but I managed to stay standing, to stay running.

     I heard an echo, a voice screaming over the noise.

     “Night!” It yelled.

     Night, what did that mean?

     Turning, I saw Jackson. He was dressed all in blue with a strip of blue paint running across his eyes. He stood on top of a hill so large that there was no way the maze could have realistically hidden it.

     He cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed again.

     “Nice!”

     Was he giving me a compliment?

     “I can’t hear you!” I yelled but, as I opened my mouth, glowing red sand flew inside, choking me. The twister was nipping at my heels now, ready to consume me.

     “Ice! Ice!” Jackson yelled. ”Freeze it! Think about ice!”

     The glowing twister lifted me off the ground, pulling me into its hungry red mouth. I whipped around like a stuffed animal in the washing machine.

     “Ice. Ice.Ice.Ice,” I muttered over and over again, trying to bring it to the forefront of my mind. “Snowflakes, ice cubes, Frosty, a frozen lake.”

     My head whipped, jiggling my brain around like a pinball in a machine.

     “Damn it! Ice tea!”

     The twister stopped, hardening around me. I fell immediately and smacked against the dry, but cooler, ground. Standing, I found myself in the middle of a crystal sculpture. The red energy was frozen. The ground around me was frozen. Even the air had a bite to it as it blew by. I worked my way through the openings in the sandstorm sculpture, realizing I had frozen the lot of it…with my mind.

     “It’s not real, but it’s still really cool, right?” Jackson asked smiling. The hill he was one had faded back into the ground and he was standing level in front of me. ”Welcome to the Moonbloods.”

     I looked down. I was dressed in the same blue uniform he was wearing. Touching my face, I felt the same blue mark running over my eyes. “We’re the bad guys?” was the only thing I could manage.

     “Yeah,” he grinned mischievously. “Or what’s left of them.”

     I looked around. There was no one anywhere. “Just you and me?” I asked.

     “On the bright side, that’s twice as many of us as there were two minutes ago.”