Cave of Nightmares (24 page)

Hayden nodded in understanding.

“Master Sark doesn’t seem to like you much either….Does he hate prism users for some reason?”

Asher gave him an almost ironic smirk.

“Not specifically. Sark has his own reasons for hating me, and I’m not terribly fond of him either. Don’t let it get you down; from what I hear, you’re the worst student he’s ever attempted to teach, and he’ll surely be dropping you at the end of the year, so you won’t have to see him much after that.”

Hayden felt his ears burn.

“I don’t know why I’m so bad at Powders…I just can’t seem to get the hang of it.”

Asher chuckled. “We’re all bad at something.”

“What are you bad at?” Hayden asked curiously.

“Cooking,” t
he Prism Master answered with a grin, glancing back at the log cabin that Torin was still inside. “Well, I should go in and make sure the old man hasn’t let the animals eat him….Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Hayden got to his feet, brushing the damp grass from the seat of his pants, and the Prism Master did the same. He had taken four steps back towards the castle when Asher called out to him.

“Hayden?”

He stopped and turned around.

“Natural prisms are hard to come by, so I offer you these parting words, from one outcast to another,” the Prism Master looked unusually serious. “No matter what sort of danger or trouble you may find yourself in, I will be there to help you when you need it, both at Mizzenwald and outside of it. Make sure you remember that.”

And with that he disappeared into the log cabin to find his father.

Hayden felt strangely comforted by the vote of support, because having the Prism Master
of Mizzenwald as an ally was no small feat, and he recounted the conversation to Zane later that night to get his opinion on it, including the unpleasant encounter with Tess’s dad beforehand.

His roommate grimaced in sympathy.

“That sounds horrible. I didn’t know that Tess lost her mother, much less during the fight against the Dark Prism. But she can’t hold it against you or else she would have said something about it before now.”

“You think so?” Hayden asked uncertainly
, wanting to believe him.

“Sure, I mean,
she knows you’re not the Dark Prism,” he shrugged. “Her dad was just being overbearing and protective because that’s what dads do for their kids.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Hayden grumbled, and
Zane raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Well, you should
; Asher has practically adopted you.”

It was Hayden’s turn to look surprised.

“What do you mean?”

His roommate looked amused by his confusion. “You really don’t think that he sits down and has heart-to-hearts with all his other students, do you? Shall we go find Tucker and ask if the Prism Master has offered to bail him out of trouble and smite his enemies
for him?”

Hayden frowned thoughtfully
and Zane chuckled.

“You really are
that dumb, aren’t you?” He grinned. “Why do you think Torin left you two alone, if not for a father-son chat?” The thought startled Hayden as he considered the possibility. “He’s a brilliant prism with no children, you’re a brilliant prism with no father…makes sense that he’s watching out for you.”

Hayden lay
awake in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling and considering Zane’s words to him. If he was right about Asher favoring him—and he had rarely known Zane to be wrong—then maybe family day wouldn’t be so awful to endure next month.

The tightness in his chest relaxed marginally, and he rolled over and went to sleep.

11

The
Evacuation of Mizzenwald

Hayden was careful to heed Master Asher’s words during the next team challenge and only used his basic prism functions. Since they had a better idea of what they were facing this time around, all four of them were much calmer and managed to finish during the allotted time frame without too much difficulty, earning themselves another seven points (Zane sustained a bad burn and Tess panicked and covered it in searing solution instead of soothing salve, nearly killing him).

Hayden paid particular attention during Healing lessons with
Mistress Razelle, now that he knew what a simple mistake could cost him. She was a patient, kind woman in her early forties with sheets of golden hair that touched her waistline and crinkles at the edges of her eyes when she smiled. She was also the only teacher he had that acted how he expected teachers to act. She was never sarcastic, always professional and patient and never criticized his work, simply pointing out what was incorrect and needed to be improved upon. Healing quickly became his most relaxing class, if not his favorite.

During Hay
den’s third month at Mizzenwald, Mistress Razelle smiled at him when he showed her his attempt at producing a level-two wrap, infused with an elixir of numbing.

“That is very fine work, Hayden.” She unwound the roll and gave it a gentle sniff, examining the entire length of it. “Your infusion was very consistent from one end to the other, and you weren’t too heavy-
handed with it this time.”

He beamed hopefully, because he had spent an hour and a half working on it th
at weekend and was hoping for a top score.

“I give this a perfect ten,” she handed it back to him.

“Really? A ten?” He grinned in disbelief. He had managed fairly good grades in her class since he started at Mizzenwald, usually in the seven-to-nine range, but this was the first time he’d ever been awarded a perfect score in her class.

“Oh yes, this is excellent work
for your first year.” She gave him a scrutinizing stare before speaking again. “In fact, I would be comfortable recommending you for my second-level class, given your progress thus far.”

Hayden felt his mouth drop open
and hastened to shut it.

“R-
really? You think I’m good enough for level-two?”

“I do. You’ll have to work hard to catch up on some of the basics we’ve already covered this year, but I think you will do well there
once you get settled in.”

It would be the first clas
s he actually shared with Zane and Tess. He would finally feel like he earned his second-year status.

“Thank you, Mistre
ss. I’ll do my best to catch up,” he promised sincerely, and she smiled at him again.

“I’ll have your name cleared for acquiring second-level ingredients and texts during lunch. You’
ll want to pick up your new book before tomorrow.”

“What time is class tomorrow?” A new thought hit Hayden then, and he hoped desperately that his new Healing class wouldn’t conflict with any of his existing lessons.

“I have several second-level classes: one immediately following lunch, one at the end of the day, and one after dinner for those with scheduling conflicts, though it’s taught by one of my mastery-level students.”

Hayden frowned. “I’d have to do the one after dinner. I’ve got Powders after lunch—though I wish I didn’t—and Prisms at the end of the day.”

Looks like I won’t be in Zane’s class after all.

It was disappointing, but not terribly. He was still buoyed by the fact that a teacher took eno
ugh notice of his work that she was recommending him for a harder class.

“Th
en I’ll tell Raina to expect you after dinner tomorrow,” she dismissed him, and Hayden grabbed his book bag and hurried off to lunch to share his good news.

Zane
and Conner were sitting in their usual spots with Mira and Tamon, and Hayden sat down across from his roommates and shared his achievement, thankful that Tamon hadn’t brought his snake to lunch with them today because he was a little afraid of being eaten when he sat near its master.

“Congratulations!”
Zane cheered him. “Shame that you’re in the night class though: it’d be cool if we were ever actually in a lesson together.”

“Don’t worry, yo
u’ll still be with me and Tamon,” Mira assured him. “We have to take the night class too because of our schedules.” That did make Hayden feel better.

“I’m surprised Asher hasn’t bumped you
up to a higher Prisms class yet,” Conner said in a low voice, glancing behind him to make sure that the Prisms Master wasn’t anywhere nearby. “Everyone says you’re top of the class; you’d think he’d show some confidence in you by now.”

Hayden, who had already been told exactly why he wasn’t in a higher-level class
yet, simply shrugged.

“I don’t mind. There are so many things t
o learn, even in the level-two class, that I don’t want to skip ahead and miss any of the basics.”

The others looked impressed with his pragmatic take on things.

“Well, you’ll have a free period now during third hour, so that should be handy,” Zane pointed out. “You’ll be able to knock out most of your homework before the day is even over.”

Hayden certainly hoped so, since he was now committed to another lesson after dinner every night.

Tamon soon excused himself, saying he wanted to check on his boa constrictor before fourth period, and the rest of them shared stories of their most recent challenge arenas until lunch was over. Hayden laughed hysterically when Conner informed them that Lorn Trout had lost his team three points for hiding behind Valeria like she was a human shield when they were surprised by a wild boar.

Hayden was in such a good mood that he wasn’t even dreading Powders that day, though if
he had known what to expect he would have skipped class entirely.

They were attempting a difficult grind today, a blend of white-3, green-7, and yellow-2 that was commonly used as a base in elixirs. Hayden donned his dust mask before entering the room, as always, and copied down notes as Master Sark explained the blending and grinding instructions to them.

He tried to do as instructed, measuring a quarter cup of white-3 and emptying it into his glass mortar, grinding it with the pestle until he thought it could be sifted through five-micrometer mesh. He added the green-7 and mixed the two colors thoroughly with a stirring rod, then resumed grinding the compound. He had to stand up for leverage, since the green-7 made the mixture a little gummy and very difficult to break apart, and his shoulder hurt by the time he added the yellow-2.

Master Sark, who had been walking around the room monitoring their efforts, was approaching Hayden’s workstation with an unpleasant look on his face. That was typical, since he usually avoided Hayden at all costs and was never even remotely satisfied with the results of his efforts during class.

Today was no different.

“What in the world
do you call that tragedy in your mixing bowl?”

Hayden frowned down at the lumpy yellow-green mess inside his mortar, glancing over at his neighbor who had somehow produced a smooth, even blend that was a pleasant spring-grass color.
Hayden’s was beginning to congeal even as he sat there.

“I’m sorry, sir,
I’m trying my best; I don’t know why it isn’t working,” he mumbled through his breath mask, looking at anything but Master Sark.

“Well your best effort is not nearl
y sufficient to pass this class,” Sark informed him, as usual, and his nearby classmates laughed, as usual.

“
I’m beginning to think that nothing can penetrate that thick skull of yours,” the Master continued, shaking his head in frustration. “I would say you’re simply not trying, but I have seen students not try and still obtain better results than you.”

Hayden felt his face burning
and glanced briefly at Master Sark, hating everything about him, from his mean eyes to the way the light glinted off of his stupid bald head. He balled his hands into fists but kept them firmly at his sides, not trusting himself to speak.

“Oh, you think
you’re
frustrated, Frost?” Sark read his anger with a scowl. “I have been the Regional Champion of Powders for four years running: I have seventeen published papers on breakthrough discoveries in the research of blending, grinding, compounding, and admixtures; I have eight mastery-level students apprenticed to me and we are on the verge of yet another breakthrough discovery that could change the world of powders as we know it.”

His face was tu
rning a splotchy red color. “I am one of the most brilliant minds of the age in my area of expertise, tasked with honing the intellect of the next generation. And what is my reward for years of effort and skill? Watching you bumble through the simplest of grinds like an ape with a hammer.” He looked disgusted. “So no, Frost, you are not the only one who is frustrated right now.”

Hayden was so angry and embarrassed that he could see patches of light swimming before his eyes, his head throbbing with pulses of rage.
His classmates were openly staring at the exchange, and a few of them were laughing into their hands to muffle the noise.

With the greatest
effort it had ever cost him, Hayden turned away from the Powders Master and resumed working on his compound, trying to salvage what he could of the mess before the end of class.

The contents of his mixing bowl
had turned even lumpier during the time it took Sark to rant at him, and Hayden picked up the mortar and dumped its contents into the simmering cauldron of water on his desk just as Master Sark’s eyes widened in horror and he shouted, “NO—!”

It was too late.

Thick, acrid green smoke poured out of the cauldron amidst the noise of cracking and popping, and sparks of light shot up into the air. Hayden launched himself away from his workstation out of sheer reflex, landing hard on the floor and nearly getting trampled by his classmates, who were attempting to run from the room.

He saw two of them
run through the green smoke and collapse immediately, their bodies unmoving after they hit the floor, eyes glassy and staring.

“GET OUT!” Master Sark shouted at the
remainder of the class, and there was a mad scrum at the door as people struggled to get through the bottleneck before they were poisoned. Hayden scuttled backwards on his hands and knees, horrified by the lifeless bodies of his fallen classmates.

Please don’t let them be dead, please don’t let them be dead…

Sark was pulling on a complicated respirator that covered his entire head, strapping the air tanks across his back and checking the seals before he went into the expanding green cloud to retrieve the two students who were immersed in it.

Hayden was the last of his schoolmates out the door, hurrying down the hallway after the line of others who were running and shouting, not knowing where they were going but following anyway.

He was just jogging past the Elixirs room when Master Kilgore stuck his head out and said, “Frost, what the devil is going on out there?”

Hayden stopped running, sensing that he was far enough from the Powd
ers room to avoid imminent danger.

“I—there was an accident in Powders, and we had to evacuate.” He was winded,
his heart racing from fear. “Master Sark stayed behind to pull the others out, because they collapsed when the green cloud hit them…”

“Green cloud?”
Kilgore’s eyes widened alarmingly. “Surely not Terrafan gas?”

“I don’t know, sir, he just shouted at us all to run…”

Master Kilgore muttered a curse word that Hayden had never heard a teacher say before and hurried off in the direction of the Powders room, abandoning his class in the middle of their lesson.

Less than a minute
later a loud siren went off, startling Hayden and forcing him to cover his ears from the shrill noise. People seemed to explode out of the nearby classrooms, sprinting towards the main exits like the building was on fire and jostling Hayden in all directions as they passed.

Master Kilgor
e came running back up the hall, carrying one of the unconscious students over his shoulders. Master Sark was right on his heels, still wearing his respirator and carrying the other student with visible effort.

“GO OUT THE FRONT!” Kilgore’s shouting was somehow audible even over the sounds of screaming and the wailing sirens, and people hurried to obey, turning away from the hallways leading to the side and rear exits.

Hayden was swept into the crowd just head of them, his head pounding as he struggled to get to the main courtyard where it looked like half the school was gathering, fanning out across the lawns and into the obstacle course areas.

It didn’t help that animals were running, jumping, or flying past him in droves as they fled the castle, and Hayden felt a pang of fear as he searched for Bonk in the crowd. He’d left the dragon in his dorm after lunch, and there were no windows…