The Schism (The Broken Prism Book 4) (28 page)

Hayden remained in a stupor, unable to answer right away. The stranger who had saved his life was tall, with classic good looks: sandy blond hair kept short, bright blue eyes, and a sculpted jawline. He was taller than Hayden and also broader in the shoulder, like the heroes in the stories that his mother had read him as a child—maybe thirty-something years old. He wore brown leather pants and a tunic of sorts, which upon closer inspection he had probably crafted from the hides of animals he’d killed, because he also had fur gloves tucked into a utility belt at his waist that was otherwise populated by knives of different sizes. A spear was strapped across his back—homemade by the look of it—and the winning smile he’d graced Hayden with was slipping off his face, replaced by a look of concern.

“Hey, kid, are you alright?” he tried again.

Gathering his wits, Hayden said, “I think so.” He blinked a few times. “Uh, who are you?”

The stranger didn’t look bothered by his lethargy or directness, and after glancing around to make sure there were no more monsters in sight, he relaxed slightly and said, “My name is Hunter. May I ask who you are?” he glanced over at Tanner’s body and frowned, bending to examine it more closely.

“I—I’m Hayden. Hayden Frost,” he added, before realizing that this man probably had no idea what his last name signified if he had been living in the schism for any length of time.

“Nice to meet you, Hayden,” Hunter replied effortlessly, kneeling before Tanner and checking for signs of life before adding, “I’m sorry to say it, but your friend is dead. I was running as fast as I could, but it seems I was too slow.” He looked absurdly disappointed with himself for it, like he expected better from his performance.

“It’s—it’s okay…”
What am I saying?
“I mean—it isn’t your fault,” he amended, trying to ignore the stinging in his arms. “Um, not to sound rude, but where did you come from?”

Hunter turned away from Tanner and looked at Hayden once more. With a pang of guilt, Hayden remembered that Tanner had been courting a girl back home, and that he would never see her again.

“Most recently I came from over there, past the Bridge of Scales.” He pointed off in the distance beyond what Hayden could see. “But if you’re asking where I normally reside, then the answer is everywhere. I travel the world, making camp and foraging as I go, seeing what there is to see.” He looked perfectly relaxed as he said it.

“You don’t seem crazy,” Hayden pointed out.

“Excuse me?” Hunter asked, confused.

“Sorry, I mean that this place drives you insane very fast if you’re a mage, and you’re obviously sane, so you must just be a normal person.” He felt like he was doing a terrible job explaining himself.

“A mage?” He raised his eyebrows in interest. “Some of the animals here have a kind of magic…do you mean there are people like that too?”

Hayden nodded, holding up his arms before realizing that his Focus-correctors weren’t on them. Instead he pulled out the onyx prism and held it out for inspection. It looked pretty impressive, casting multicolored bits of light out in all directions and drawing the eye.

“What is
that
for?” Hunter’s eyes were trained on the void-prism, amazed.

“It’s a prism. I’m a mage, and I was sent into the schism—uh, into this place—to follow the ley lines and close the opening between my world and this one, so nothing else can cross through.” He tucked the prism back into his belt.

Hunter looked a little stunned for a minute, but then blinked and said, “Oh, those lines of light I sometimes see overhead.” He pointed to the ones Hayden had been following before the hyenas attacked. “Those lead to other worlds?” he asked with interest.

“Well, just the one other world…the real world, that is.” Hayden sighed. “It’s hard to explain. Are you telling me that you’ve always lived in this plane?” he couldn’t imagine growing up in such a horrible place.

“For as long as I can remember,” Hunter said with a smile. “Was that prism the thing that made all that bright light a while ago?” he added, still eyeing it on Hayden’s belt. “I was hunting elk along the Bridge of Scales when I saw a flash—like a miniature sun had opened up, but I thought it was near the swamp so I went to investigate over there but didn’t find anything. When I came through the other end I saw you and your friend fighting, and hurried to help.”

“Yeah, that was me back at the swamp—well, my flash bomb, to be more specific.” Hayden winced at a particularly painful twinge in his Foci. “Look, sorry to seem rude, but I’m in a huge hurry to find the exit to this place so I can get out before I go nuts.” He turned back to the ley lines. “I don’t suppose you want to help me?”

Hunter looked interested by the prospect of a quest.

“Sure, I can walk with you. No offense, but you don’t seem to be much of a fighter, and I can help you there.”

Hayden felt embarrassed and inadequate standing next to this godlike stranger who had spent his entire life inside the schism and looked no worse for it.

“Okay, well thanks. Um, I was following the lines this way…” he pointed unnecessarily in the direction the ley lines were headed, and the two of them set off again.

“Tell me more about why you’re worried about going nuts,” Hunter pressed him as they walked. Hayden had to take two steps for every one of Hunter’s to keep up with the man’s natural stride.

“Mages channel magic through their Foci—that is, magical pathways through either arm. This world is full of weird magic that can creep up through our Foci and drive us insane, so the longer I’m here the more trouble I’m in.”

Hunter looked intrigued by this piece of information.

“Why aren’t you moving a little faster then? I can jog if you’d like.”

Hayden didn’t doubt for a minute that this man could jog through the entire realm while carrying him on his back and not even break a sweat. He tried to bury his resentful feelings, not sure if it was the distortion making him feel that way or just natural jealousy.

“I’m not in great shape at the moment,” he admitted.

“Well then, we could ride.”

Hayden looked at him strangely and said, “Uh…ride
what?
”

“Whatever creatures we find that are strong enough to carry us,” Hunter answered easily, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. “Come on, let’s find something to subdue.”

Without waiting for Hayden to answer, he jogged off across the field, heading towards a cliff face that stretched upwards about a hundred feet. It took Hayden a moment to notice the crevice set into the rock, like a cave opening.

Is he really going to stroll into a cave looking for monsters to fight?

It seemed that he was. Cursing under his breath, Hayden veered off the course of the ley lines and forced himself to jog after the man, thinking this was one of the stupidest things he had done to date.

He wasn’t sure what Hunter expected to find in the cave—bears, lions, maybe a few more wargs or hyenas to make life difficult…

Why couldn’t we just go on foot? We’re wasting time veering off course, searching for animals that probably don’t even exist in this realm to ride.

What he didn’t expect was to arrive at the mouth of the rock crevice, panting, just in time to see Hunter exiting the cave on the back of a wooly mammoth, nudging it gently with his boots to keep it on course.

“Are you kidding me?” Hayden panted at the same time as Hunter said, “Climb up and rest your legs for a bit!”

The mammoth lumbered past him while he stared dumbly after it, wondering how in the world a single person could be so skillful—and lucky. Frowning, Hunter managed to get the mammoth to stop walking and hopped off its back, giving Hayden time to catch up and then cupping his hands together to give him a leg up.

As soon as Hayden was on the thing’s back, Hunter took a running leap and grabbed his outstretched hand, using the leverage to hoist himself back onto the woolly mammoth and nearly pulling Hayden back off in the process.

If I had tried that move I would have smacked right into the side of the mammoth and broken my arm.

Trying not to feel inadequate next to this man who was obviously more suited to the task of surviving in the schism than him, Hayden mumbled, “Thanks,” and began massaging a leg cramp.

Hunter directed the mammoth towards the ley lines so they could continue along their previous path, and even though they moved at a leisurely pace, it was still faster than Hayden could have walked on his own. He tried to ignore a pulse of unexplainable hatred towards his new companion, accompanied by a surge of pain in his Foci.

His discomfort must have been apparent because Hunter said, “You said mages lose their minds in this place because of their magic channels….Do you think that’s happening to you now?”

Frowning, Hayden replied, “It’s starting to become a lot less bearable, but I’m not a raving lunatic just yet.” He sighed and attempted to massage his arms with alternating hands, though he didn’t expect it to actually alleviate the pain.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how exactly did you come to volunteer for this, if you knew what it would do to you? Wasn’t there anyone older that could handle the job?”

“It’s complicated,” Hayden explained.

“We don’t have anything better to do than talk, and it might help take your mind off the discomfort.”

He couldn’t disagree with that logic, so he relented.

“I didn’t exactly volunteer for this assignment. The Council of Mages—they’re the ones in charge—sort of backed me into a corner so I would have to come or lose face forever.”

Hunter looked indignant on his behalf, which lent his features a haughty, regal air.

How did a guy like this grow up inside a schism?

“You’re telling me that a group of adults bullied a teenager into doing their dirty work for them?” he fumed, like it was the most despicable thing he’d ever heard.

“Yeah, pretty much—though to be fair, I do have an advantage in here over other mages.”

Hunter narrowed his eyebrows and said, “And that is…?”

“I got my Foci—my magical channels—badly damaged when I was ten, so they’re really warped now. Normally that’s a bad thing, and I wear huge correctors on them so I can safely do magic, but in here having warped Foci slows down the effects of the schism so I can stay sane longer than anyone else.”

“How did you damage yourself so badly when you were ten years old?” Hunter asked with obvious interest.

Well, I guess he doesn’t have a lot of other people to talk to in here, so he’s probably fascinated by my story.

“It wasn’t exactly my fault.” He felt weird explaining the Dark Prism to a stranger, because normally his father’s legacy preceded him. “See, my father was basically the most evil guy in the world. He started out fine, but then he messed around with bad prisms and it drove him kind of insane, and he killed a lot of people and generally made a mess of things. He was at it for about ten years before he died, and by then everyone was out for his blood.”

Hunter listened in silence, eyes focused on Hayden’s face in a way that let him know he had the man’s undivided attention. He hoped their wooly mammoth didn’t veer off course while they weren’t focusing on their trajectory.

“I didn’t know anything about him until he came to my house one day—my mom kept me hidden from him. I still don’t know how he found out about me at all, since she never told him he had a son.” He frowned at the continued gaping holes in his memory of that day. “Anyway, he showed up and ultimately blew up the house with all of us inside of it, killing both him and my mom. No one really knows why I survived, and I don’t remember that much about the whole thing, but it nearly destroyed my Foci in the process, so I’ve got the most warped channels in the history of mage-kind now.”

Hunter looked at him for a long moment, his features etched with sympathy.

“It must have been difficult, having both of your parents die when you were so young. Who raised you after that—your grandparents?”

Embarrassed, Hayden said, “Actually, no. There weren’t a lot of people left in my family at that point, and the ones that were around wanted nothing to do with the son of the Dark Prism after they found out, so I went to the orphanage in Merina—that’s the town I’m from.”

The indignation was back on Hunter’s face.

“Your own family wouldn’t take you in just because of who your father was?” He looked absolutely disgusted. “So you’ve been living in an orphanage for the last seven years?”

“Five years, actually; I’m fifteen,” Hayden explained, marginally pleased to hear that he looked a little older than he was. “And no, I only lived there until I was twelve. After that the Council finally decided I was allowed to go to school, so I’ve been there ever since, though during holidays I usually stay with my best friend, Zane, and his family.”

“So your friend’s family has stepped in as surrogate parents? At least that’s something,” Hunter allowed, eyeing their path and nudging the mammoth with his right heel to tweak their course.

“Sort of, though honestly, one of my teachers is more of a parent to me than anyone. He used to be my father’s best friend before he became evil, and I guess he felt bad about how things turned out so he’s always kind of kept an eye on me and helped me when I needed it. He’s really the only father figure I’ve ever had.” It was the first time he had actually said those words out loud.