The Alchemists Academy Book 2: Elemental Explosions (8 page)

BOOK: The Alchemists Academy Book 2: Elemental Explosions
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            For some reason, Wirt found himself thinking of Spencer at that moment. Maybe that was unfair. Just because the other boy liked to read, that didn’t mean he would have any trouble with what was coming.

            “We will also ask your teachers about you, and seek their recommendations. No doubt, you will all try to find ways to worm your way into their good graces. It will not work.” Ender Paine smiled to himself. “You are welcome to try, of course.”

            “Finally,” the headmaster said, “when we reach the situation where there is only a single space in the elite group remaining, those who have a chance of taking that spot will have the opportunity to take it by winning the quantum games, which have been reinstituted this year after several years without their presence.”

            Ms. Lake coughed discreetly, and Ender Paine looked around at her.

            “Yes, Vivaine?”

            “I thought perhaps that we should tell the students
why
there have been no quantum games for several years, headmaster.”

            Ender Paine’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “If you insist.”

            “The quantum games are dangerous,” Ms. Lake said, looking out over the assembled students. “Very dangerous. For years, it was felt that they were
too
dangerous to be played in their full form. It is only recently, under pressure from some of those who feel that they make the school more competitive, that we have reinstituted them.”

            “Not to mention the governors,” Ender Paine said, with a certain amount of relish. “And we must always do as the governors wish.” It seemed that he wasn’t as unhappy as Ms. Lake to see the games back. Wirt thought about the creatures whose statues were outside the headmaster’s study. He could just imagine things like that enjoying the sport of hyper-leap. Or at least, enjoying its fatal conclusion.

            Ms. Lake looked grave. “I would urge you, should you get down to the final spot, to consider very carefully whether it is worth risking your life over. Whether it is worth hurting your friends over. It will only be used as a tie-breaker, but you need to think about what you might do.”

            Ender Paine laughed. “They will do what everyone does, Vivaine. They will take their spot. And it will be worth it, won’t it?” he added, looking towards the fourteen who stood at the front. One by one, they nodded.

            “And let us be clear about one other thing,” the headmaster added. “There is no place for failure at this school. You have seen these fourteen. They are the only third year students in this school. Just as the fourteen who are chosen from among you will be the only third years permitted next year. Those of you who cannot keep up will leave. You might find places at other schools, but there will be no place for you here. Consider that when you are thinking about whether it is worth it.”

            Wirt found himself considering it. There would be no other school for him, he knew. He was only here because of the headmaster’s strange decision to offer him a scholarship. If he were thrown out of the academy, that would be it. He would be stranded here, with only those skills he already had to try and survive. He wouldn’t even have a home to go to. Faced with that, would he really be able to step back and let someone else take his place? Even Spencer? Even
Alana?

            And then there was Roland. The boy who just happened to have brought his father’s old quantum ball with him when they were reinstituting the tradition. He had known that this was going to happen, somehow. Wirt was certain of it. The only question was how.

 

 

Chapter 8

 

T
he other second years were curiously quiet as they left the solarium. Thoughtful, perhaps. Considering exactly what Ender Paine’s announcement about the elite class might mean for them. A few would no doubt already know that their chances of making it through were poor. Would those get in contact with their parents to start making arrangements for moves to other schools? Or would they stay and hope that they were wrong?

            A few more might be totally confident of their ability to get into the class. With grades playing a part, those who got the best grades in the year would surely think that they had a better chance than any of the others. Yet with grades forming only one part of it, could any of them really say that they were safe? One poor comment from a teacher, one failure in a special assignment, and even those getting the highest grades might be in trouble.

            As for Wirt, he wasn’t sure where he stood. He wasn’t the best student in the school. Unlike Alana his glamour spells were weak and patchy, and he hadn’t taken any of the classes on advising royalty. If that was what the elite class was meant to be for, wouldn’t that be an advantage? Spencer, meanwhile, got far better all-round grades than Wirt did, and seemed to understand esoteric subjects like number magic without having to try.

            On the other hand, Wirt wasn’t the worst student either, and the school had already invested a lot in him thanks to his natural talent for transportation magic. Ms. Burns had shown him that he had more than a few skills when it came to elemental magic too, and last year, he had been excellent when it came to Ms. Genovia’s transmutation spells. Though thinking about his time as a frog still made Wirt wince.

            The only downside to all that was that the school
had
invested so much in him. Would Wirt be at a disadvantage as a scholarship student in a school that had so little money to spare? After all, he had seen the figures when he snuck into Urlando Roth’s office last year, and heard the management board discussing the problems. Would Ender Paine finally decide that keeping Wirt around wasn’t worth the money?

            Wirt simply didn’t know. More than that, he didn’t know how far he would go to claim a place. He really,
really
didn’t want to have to leave the school just yet. He didn’t want to be left without a home again. Because that was what the giant tree had become, despite all its weirdness. Home.

            Yet would he be prepared to play hyper-leap for that last place if it came down to it? Would he really be willing to put his life on the line for just one more year there? Would he be willing to kill another student? Wirt couldn’t shake off that question, and it was obvious, as he and the others made their way down to the cafeteria for the evening meal, that it was clinging to the thoughts of more than a few of his classmates. Wirt suspected that it was meant to.

            For the next few days, things were remarkably quiet around the academy, except for the inevitable explosions from Mr. Fowler’s alchemy classes. People got on with their lessons, and put in extra work wherever they could. Wirt saw Spencer and Alana in classes, but there was hardly time to talk to them much. Alana, in particular, always seemed to be busy either with Priscilla or Roland, spending plenty of time with the new boy and obviously liking him. Whenever Wirt saw them together, he couldn’t help feeling a quick pang of jealousy, but compared to the harsh stares Spencer shot their way, it was nothing. Or at least, nothing he couldn’t bury under the need to do more work before the end of the year.

Some people were prepared to try other methods of getting into the elite class. Wirt overheard a couple of girls wondering aloud whether there would be any quests this term, apparently unconcerned by the way Wirt, Alana and Spencer had almost died in the last one. He also got the sense that, in spite of the obvious futility of it, students were attempting to find ways to suck up to the teachers. He found a couple of students clearing leaves from Ms. Lake’s watery home, while others cleaned Sir Percival’s armor for him with wire wool, or helped to polish Ms. Genovia’s extensive collection of frog figurines.

            Wirt did his best to keep out of it. Doing a few odd jobs, even very odd ones, for teachers wouldn’t earn a recommendation. Instead, he tried to concentrate on his classes, because making sure he got the best possible grades seemed like his best way into the elite class. He spent more time than he had before in the academy’s library, getting to the stage where he hardly flinched as the bespectacled green blob of a librarian shot tentacles right past his head to retrieve books from the pocket dimensions where they were stored.

            He studied as hard as he could, but even so, Wirt couldn’t escape the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Maybe it was just that he felt tired. For the past couple of days, he’d been having dreams that veered between the disturbing and the merely strange. The one with King Arthur on the slab made a comeback, but there were others too. Ones where he was surrounded by the tentacled and many-clawed forms of the school’s governors, staring down at Wirt as though he were a bug trapped in a glass jar. Ones that consisted of little more than darkness with things whispering in it, right on the edge of hearing.

            There were even a few where Wirt was standing in the great arena that served as one of the school’s gymnasia, playing hyper-leap against figures he couldn’t identify at first. He’d spin the quantum ball up to speed, and throw it with a sense of satisfaction that the other person couldn’t possibly dodge, only to realize once the ball was on its way that the person he’d just thrown it at was Spencer, or Alana, or occasionally himself. The other person would stare back at him with helpless eyes in the fraction of a second it took for the ball to reach them, and would scatter into dust right at the point where the dream faded.

            It was that dream Wirt woke from on the third night, laying in the dark and staring up at the ceiling, trying to keep quiet so that he wouldn’t disturb Roland. There was no point in waking up his roommate just because he’d had a bad dream. Except that it seemed Roland was already awake. At least, Wirt could hear the low murmur of his voice in the dark.

            “Yes. Everything is going well. No, there haven’t been any problems. It’s just a question of being patient.”

            Wirt looked towards Roland’s bed, and he saw that the room wasn’t quite dark after all. A soft, greenish light, hardly stronger than moonlight, seemed to fill Roland’s side of the room, letting Wirt see the other boy clearly as he sat at his desk. He had that odd lead box of his in front of him, and even in the half light, Wirt could see that the lid was open, and that it was where the glow was coming from. Roland didn’t see him looking over, but then, Roland was busy looking down into the box, the light throwing strange shadows over his features.

            Slowly, Wirt became aware of a second voice mixed in with Roland’s. It was hard to hear, so hoarse and croaky that it was barely audible, but it was there.

            “We do not have time for patience. I have been patient. Now, you need to succeed. There cannot be any excuses.”

            “I’ve told you,” Roland said, “everything is going well. I know what I’m doing. You just need to trust me.”

            “And you need to remember your place.”

            For a moment, just a moment, Wirt thought he saw genuine fear flicker across his new roommate’s features. It was all the worse for being bathed in that strange green light. Whatever was in that box, it terrified him.

            “I didn’t mean-”

            “Silence.”

            Roland hung his head, and several seconds passed. Finally, the show of contrition seemed to be enough for whatever was in the box.

            “Tell me about the progress you have made so far,” the voice demanded.

            “I’ve managed to get close to the girl,” Roland said. “That was easy. She likes me enough that she won’t be a problem. As for the other boy, it’s just a matter of time before I’m able to drive a wedge between them. He’ll be cut off, weak.”

            “You’re certain?” the voice from the box demanded.

            Roland nodded. When he spoke, his voice still held a trace of fear, but it was also determined. “I’m certain. You can count on me.”

            The voice in the box seemed to be satisfied enough with that. “Then we will strike mid-term. There will be only one chance, so we must not fail.”

            “I won’t.”

            “If you do, you know what will happen.”

BOOK: The Alchemists Academy Book 2: Elemental Explosions
5.89Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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