The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) (20 page)

“I guess.”

“So, have you been using the… ah,” Marsten said, making a vague gesture around his head with his hand.

“The hair illusion?” Garrett said, “Yeah… sometimes.”

“Good… good,” Marsten said, “I’m happy to have helped.”

“Thanks,” Garrett said, still not sure about how he felt about Marsten bringing Serepheni flowers.

“So… you actually saw this… snake man?” Marsten asked.

“Yeah,” Garrett said, “He was pretty creepy, but I don’t think he really wanted to fight or anything. He just wanted to get away.”

“Lucky for you,” Marsten chuckled.

“The one thing I can’t figure out,” Garrett said, “is how he knew my name.”

“He spoke to you?” Marsten asked, his eyes widening slightly.

Garrett nodded. “He told me not to interfere in his
task
.” He said.

“Did he say anything else?” Marsten asked.

“No, he just sort of…
slithered
off then,” Garrett said.

Marsten let out a little sigh. “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt, Garrett,” he said, “It isn’t safe to go chasing after things like that.”

Garrett shrugged.

“Listen,” Marsten said, “If you do decide to try and catch him again, please promise me that you’ll tell me first. I know a few tricks for dealing with this sort of thing, and I would be glad to come along and help however I may.”

Garrett nodded.

“Promise me?” Marsten insisted.

“I promise,” Garrett said.

“Good,” Marsten said. He gestured toward the mostly untouched breakfast on the table between them. “Care to join me?”

“No, thanks,” Garrett said, “I have to get to class.”

“Oh, how’s that going?” Marsten asked.

“Fine.”

“Ah… good,” Marsten said, his gaze drifting off, untethered from the awkward small talk.

“Yeah,” Garrett said, “I guess Max should be back from the war pretty soon. I’ll bet Serepheni will be really glad to see him again.”

Marsten flinched a little. “Yes,” he said, “I’m quite looking forward to meeting him.”

“Yeah… well, I gotta go,” Garrett said.

“It was good to see you again, Garrett,” Marsten said.

“You too,” Garrett said, walking back toward the gate.

“Oh… and remember your promise,” Marsten called after him, “Don’t go looking for… that thing… again without my help! It’s far too dangerous.”

“Yeah,” Garrett said, pulling the gate shut behind him.

Garrett shook off his misgivings as he headed back inside the temple complex, walking down the long corridor that led toward the courtyard. Even if Marsten was interested in Serepheni as more than just a friend, she was still in love with Max. After a moment’s thought, he even felt a twinge of pity for the blonde necromancer and perhaps a touch of guilt about being angry with him. Serepheni had that effect on people. It was hardly Marsten’s fault that he was so taken with her.

“What are you doing skulking around here?” A rude voice demanded.

Garrett started from his thoughts, looking up to see Matron Shelbie emerge from a doorway in the wall of the corridor. He stared back at her, baffled and ashamed of the fear in his heart at seeing her.

“Answer me, boy!” Shelbie shouted.

“I… I’m going to class,” Garrett stammered, fighting to control the cold rage that bubbled up inside of him.

“Where were you just now?” Matron Shelbie demanded, pointing back up the hall.

“The garden, Matron,” Garrett answered.

“What business did you have in the garden?” she asked.

“Ser… Matron Serepheni,” he said, “I was meeting with Matron Serepheni!”

Shelbie narrowed her eyes to slits and leaned close, searching for deception in Garrett’s face. At last she scoffed and drew back. She glared at him with undisguised loathing.

Garrett mastered his rage and forced himself to lower his eyes in deference. “May I go now, Matron?” he rasped, “I don’t want to be late for class.”

“Go!” she spat dismissively.

Garrett breathed again as he turned his back to her and hurried down the hall, but he stopped the moment that she called after him.

“I know why you’re here,
necromancer!
” she hissed.

Garrett did not move or speak or turn to face her. He could hear her shoes clopping like a devil’s hooves as she slowly approached him from behind.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to,
you little thief
,” she said as she moved to stand just behind him.

Shelbie leaned close, whispering in his ear. “But know this, little thief. I will see you
dead
before I allow you to steal the secrets of the Eternal Mother.
I will see you dead!
”

Garrett struggled to control his breathing, his fists clenched at his sides, and he did not dare to look at her.

Shelbie stepped back and gave him a mocking laugh. “Run along now, little worm,” she said, “You are dismissed!”

*******

Two lines of boys stood, facing one another across the temple courtyard in the cold drizzle of a gray morning rain. All around, boys fidgeted, tightening their grips on their sparring staves or shifting their weight from foot to foot, awaiting the Matron’s order. Garrett stood motionless, feeling nothing at all, his eyes locked on the tall, curly-haired boy on the other side.

Trent was the best fighter in class, after Banden, standing nearly a foot taller than all the other boys, and he took great delight in beating down anyone who stood against him. He stood opposite Garrett in the line with a leering grin on his cruel face, but Garrett was in no mood to take a beating today.

“Begin,” Matron Brix shouted, and the two lines of boys advanced on each other with sticks in hand.

“Good Night, Crispy!” Trent growled as he sent a whistling blow at Garrett’s head.

Garrett twisted his head and shoulder to the left, dodging the larger boy’s strike and smacking the tip of his own staff hard across Trent’s right eyebrow.

Trent howled in pain, blinking his eye against the stinging, bloody blow, but Garrett gave him no time to recover. Trent cried out again as Garrett swung his staff upward, striking the knuckles of Trent’s weapon hand and sending the boy’s club spinning free of his stunned fingers.

“Trent, out!” Brix barked, and Garrett turned to face the winner of the two boys fighting to his left. Bill had only a second to recognize Garrett as his new opponent before the young necromancer drove his staff, point-first into Bill’s solar plexus. Bill staggered away, clutching his chest and huffing.

Thunder rumbled in the gray sky, and the rain came down harder. Garrett was already moving on to his next target.

Something had changed in him. Garrett seemed to watch his body move of its own accord. He felt a surge of something within him, like a torrent of naked rage, flowing through him, moving his limbs like a marionette’s strings.

The next two boys in line, Kell and Merriwick, were still sparring, neither one committing to an attack, but holding back, defensively. They looked toward Garrett with confusion and then real fear as he advanced on both at once.

“Hey!” Merriwick shouted as Garrett stepped in, disarming him with a lightning-fast blow and then rapping him sharply on the underside of his chin before turning on the other boy.

Kell said nothing but ducked low beneath Garrett’s contemptuous backhand swing, jabbing his staff at Garrett’s chest.

Garrett pirouetted like a dancer, letting Kell’s weapon slide across the breast of his tunic, and he tapped the boy hard on the ear with his own cudgel.

Kell jumped back, clutching his ear with his free hand.

“What’s wrong with you?” he hissed.

“Shut up and fight, Kell!” Matron Brix shouted.

Kell lowered his head and bull rushed Garrett, but Garrett sidestepped the boy’s reckless charge and sent Kell face-first into the flagstones with a brutal whip across his lower back.

Kell groaned, trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nose with his hands, but Garrett only scoffed and shook his head, turning his back on the beaten boy. He smiled to himself, enjoying the cold fire of victory surging through his veins.

Garrett’s smile faded when he saw Banden facing him with his staff held high in both hands. Banden’s face showed only confusion.

“Garrett?” he said.

Garrett grinned back at him and raised his own staff, mirroring Banden’s stance.

Banden lunged forward, striking like a serpent, but Garrett turned the blow with the haft of his staff and curved a riposte up under Banden’s guard.

Banden arched his body, and Garrett’s staff only grazed his stomach. Banden hopped backward, spinning his weapon in his hand, his eyes wide. The younger boy set his jaw and dropped into a low crouch, awaiting Garrett’s attack.

Garrett laughed, drunk on the strange battle-lust that filled him. He wrapped both hands around the base of his weapon and raised it high above his head.

Banden’s face went white as he warded off Garrett’s hammering blows with his own staff. The crack of wood against wood echoed through the courtyard as Garrett rained blow after blow down on the boy’s defenses. There was nothing of skill or artistry in Garrett’s attack, only a mad pummeling as a dam seemed to burst within him, and an icy cascade of rage poured out in his mindless onslaught.

Banden shouted in alarm as his weapon cracked, and he fell backward to the ground, desperately warding himself against Garrett’s attacks with the splintered stump of his staff.

“Garrett, hold!” Matron Brix shouted.

Garrett screamed in wordless rage as he continued to pound against his friend’s crumbling defenses.

“Hold, Damnit!” Brix cried.

Garrett felt a sharp rap across the back of his skull, and he spun to face the Matron as she raised her cudgel again, her face hard with anger.

Garrett snarled, readying his weapon to face this new adversary.

“Garrett!” Banden shouted, scrambling to his feet.

The younger boy stepped in to place his body between Garrett and Brix his arms spread wide and his hands empty.

Garrett started to lunge, the tip of his staff leveled at Banden’s unprotected throat, but he stopped himself just in time, stumbling forward as his body seemed to return to his control once again.

Garrett fell to his knees on the flagstones and vomited all over Banden’s shoes.

Banden started to kneel to help him, but Brix shoved him out of the way and hauled Garrett to his feet by the collar.

“Clean yourself up, Banden!” Matron Brix growled, dragging Garrett away, “The rest of you, run the circuit ‘till I get back!”

The class groaned in unison as Matron Brix pulled Garrett toward the storeroom.

“Drop it!” she said, rapping the staff still clutched tightly in Garrett’s hand. She repeated her command, striking it with her stick again, and Garrett let it fall from his numbed hand to clatter on the storeroom floor.

Brix pushed Garrett back against the wall inside the shade of the doorway and held him there, studying his eyes.

Garrett blinked wiping the rain from his eyes and the spittle from his lips with the back of his sleeve, still feeling dizzy and cold.

Matron Brix snorted and gave him a crooked smile. “Got some berserker blood in you, eh?” she laughed, “Some Kriesslander in your veins?”

Garrett stared back at her, confused.

She patted him on the shoulder. “It’s all right,” she said, “I’ve seen it before… It doesn’t matter. I’ll just have to watch you a bit closer.”

“What happened?” he asked, his voice hoarse from bile.

“It’s more common up north,” she said, “but some boys just lose their wits in a fight, and something else takes over… I’m afraid you’re not really cut out for leadership, but boy will you have a glorious career on the front lines!”

Garrett shook his head. “I’m the worst fighter in class,” he protested.

Brix scoffed. “You
were
the worst fighter in class,” she said, “probably still are, unless the
anima
kicks in.”

“The what?”

“The
anima
,” she said, “The Kriesslanders believe that the spirits of their animal gods take over their bodies in battle. It’s all just superstition, but they believe it, and it gets the job done. I’ve seen a Kriesslander tear through a dozen armored Templars with nothing but a chair leg and a lot of chest hair.”

Garrett looked through the door, feeling sick again as he watched Banden tending to Kell’s broken nose. “I don’t ever want to do
that
again,” he whispered.

“Yes, but you will,” Brix sighed, “and while you’re doing it, you’ll enjoy it. The trick is getting control of it, making yourself the master of the beast. You’ve got to get the key to his pen and let him know when it's all right to come out and play, and when to get back inside and stay quiet.”