The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 1) (46 page)

“So you’ve had quite a day. Assaulting a window? Saving Mr. Fisher?” Gaius asked. “How did that happen?”

Rachel found herself panting. Between breaths, she told him what had occurred.

“And…you figured that out by yourself?” His eyes grew wide with admiration. “Who Mordeau’s targets were, I mean? I must say, I am rather impressed.”

The look he gave her went to her head like wine.

They headed through the woods, back toward Drake, leaves crunching under their feet. From ahead of them came crashes and shouts and the loud report of a tree trunk striking the earth. The ground shook. Peals of thunder rolled down from Stony Tor, over and over, as if the Heer of Dunderberg could sense the chaos and chose this moment to test the boundaries of his prison.

A streak of red and gold came through the hemlocks. A voice called her name. Lucky wrapped around Rachel, snuffling her good cheek. His long, red whiskers tickled her neck. She touched him shyly. The dragon’s downy fur felt as silky and fluffy as she had imagined. His long sinewy, serpentine body was very warm, as if he kept a furnace inside.

“Found her, Boss!” Lucky called. “She’s kind of beat up.”

“Rachel! Are you okay?” Sigfried pelted pell-mell through the trees. “You look terrible! Did Mordeau get you? How do we get back inside? Joy’s paralyzed, and some upperclassman is burning the princess.”

“Wha-what?” Rachel cried, horrified. She hugged Lucky more tightly.

Gaius halted abruptly, alarmed.

Sigfried skidded to a stop just beside Rachel. His robes and hair were covered with dirt. “Some blond jerk—not Strega—has a wand pointed at her, and she’s surrounded by flames.”

“Real flames? Or phantom flames?” Gaius leaned forward intently. “Is the fire consuming her flesh and clothes?”

Sigfried tilted his head. Rachel knew he was examining the scene with his amulet. “No.”

“Phantom flames.” Gaius’s voice shook. “They burn your soul instead of your body. You aren’t supposed to use them on people. That’s black magic. It’s forbidden in most jurisdictions.”

“Really? What jurisdictions allow it?” Sigfried blurted out, his eyes huge and eager.

Rachel shoved him. “Siggy! The princess!”

“You’re not happy she’s burning?” Sigfried asked, examining her face curiously. He did not look eager to see the princess hurt, just interested in Rachel’s reaction. “Considering that she betrayed your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Rachel shouted, certain from the rush of heat in her cheeks that her face had caught fire. “No, of course not!”

Gaius watched them both attentively. The temperature of Rachel’s face subsided a degree. Gaius did not realize Siggy referred to him.

“This ‘blond jerk,’” Gaius asked, “was he tall with shoulder-length hair?”

“Yeah.”

“Remus Starkadder. Same idiot who threw me out of there.”

The three looked around but, even from where they stood, they could see tutors blocking the doorway into Drake Hall.

Rachel’s mind raced, searching for some way to help the princess. “Oh! What about the hole Mr. Chanson made?”

“No good,” Sigfried replied. “Lucky and I tried to get back that way. It has collapsed. Even Lucky could not fit through.”

“Could we fly down the crevice, if we had my broom?” Rachel looked back over her shoulder toward the infirmary, but she saw no sign of Nurse Moth.

Siggy shook his head. “It’s filled with water now. Beside, the nurse is still using your broom. I just saw her go by.”

“I could go,” Lucky offered. “I like water.”

“Could you?” Rachel cried. “Go! Save Nastasia!”

Lucky took off like a bottle rocket, calling over his shoulder. “Okay with you, Boss?”

Sigfried nodded.

“The dragon talks,” Gaius murmured weakly.

Rachel watched Lucky race toward the chasm in front of Drake Hall and dive into the waterfall created by the moat, as it flowed into the rent the black dragon made in the earth. Rachel gnawed on her fist. Staring at the cracked edifice of Drake Hall, she regretted that her family did not belong to a temple and had no god to whom they paid homage. If only there were some outside power she could beg for help.

In the forest, something glinted golden. Rachel shaded her eyes and peered more closely. The tiny Lion sat among the hemlocks, washing his paw. He looked up, and their eyes met.

To Rachel, everything turned upside down.
The Lion seemed enormous, larger than galaxies. Planet Earth, a tiny ball, rested on the pads of his paw. Atop this ball, she could make out the dollhouse that was Drake Hall—the front of the granite building with its crack and its stone lions, the roof, the far side, including several back doors.

Unguarded back doors.

Caw! Caw!
The great black Raven dive bombed the Lion, the gleam of its blood-red eyes visible even through the trees. The vision ended. The world was back to its normal size and shape.

“Come on!” cried Rachel.

Despite the pain in her leg, she ran.

The three of them dashed around behind Drake. There were, in fact, several back doors. The closest one led to the basement. A staircase led down to it. Rachel ran through the woods toward this door as fast as her injured leg would allow. To the right, among the trees, was a fenced enclosure with chickens and goats. A little beige and white kid pressed its head against the fence, gazing at them with its weird square pupils.

“Oh, cool! Animals,” Rachel cried as she careened around the corner.

“For sacrifices,” Gaius said offhandedly.

A shiver ran down the length of Rachel’s body. She remembered why the other Arts did not care for thaumaturges.

They piled across the stone bridge that spanned the moat and darted down the stairs, halting before a locked door. As Gaius fumbled for his wand, Sigfried moved his hands in the gesture for the Opening cantrip.

“
Libra!
”

The padlock sprang open with a
crack
and bounced off the door. Wand in hand, Gaius jerked back, impressed.

“Behind us!” Sigfried shouted.

Gaius whipped around and fired.

Grrrrrr
. A blur of motion. Silver sparkles leapt from Gaius’s wand and threw back the large chestnut-colored wolf, just in time. Moments later, it would have struck Rachel. It came so close that the wind caused by the speed of its approach blew her hair into her face.

“I got this one,” Gaius grinned like a fiend. He sprinted up the stairs, wand pointed at the wolf. “Come on, Fenris. Let’s do this.”

The wolf shivered and rose. It now looked like a lanky young man with spiky chestnut hair, dressed in black subfusc with the golden crest of Transylvania above his heart. He glared at Gaius and drew his own wand. Then, his eyes grew big, as if he had just realized whom he was facing. Terror crossed his face. Turning, he ran, firing spells over his shoulder.

Gaius paused, leaned over the railing, and tapped Rachel on her chest, at the center of her breastbone. A mirrored shimmer spread across her body, fading quickly. Rachel recognized the reflective shield he had cast upon her before her duel with Cydney Graves. With a wink, he set off after Fenris, firing blue and silver sparks and bands of glowing golden light as he ran.

“Come on!” Siggy plunged into the darkness of the building. “This way!”

Sigfried and Rachel raced down an extremely narrow staircase and through a curving brick corridor, the slap of their footsteps echoing loudly. The air was dry and dusty, as if people seldom came this way. Sigfried pulled far ahead, since Rachel limped as they ran. Over his shoulder, he shouted out a play by play report, courtesy of his amulet.

“Lucky knocked into the blond idiot. The princess retreated behind a pillar. Joy is there. She’s not moving. I think…she’s paralyzed. Nastasia’s okay. She’s shaking, but she’s not burned. She’s got her violin under her chin again. She’s not giving up. Good for her! She looks so grim.

“Wait! It’s him! Strega!” Sigfried shouted. “His wand is out! He’s sneaking up on Joy…who can’t move. Lucky!” he screamed, his voice bouncing off the brick walls. “Lucky is moving toward him. Oh, Nastasia saw Strega. She’s drawing her bow across her violin strings. Silver sparkles flying everywhere. Ace! Strega got slammed into a wall by a blast of wind. His wand went flying. Woohoo! Go, Princess! Oops! The princess just got paralyzed! Some Black dude in sunglasses with stupid facial hair did it.”

Ahead, they heard voices, shouts. Bursting out of the narrow hallway, they skidded to a halt in front of a stone door. Siggy threw it open. Water flowed out, pooling around Rachel’s new leather boots. She took a step forward and stopped in the doorway.

Beyond was a Summoning Vault, a vast stone chamber designed for calling up supernatural creatures. Four stone pillars supported the ceiling. Geometric designs—triangles, five and seven-pointed stars, all inside of circles—marked the marble floor. An altar stood toward the center, its surface dark from years of use. The chamber smelled of spellwork—spruce, cinnamon, and brimstone, along with the faint but distinct odor of dried blood.

Rachel recoiled. Wands were one thing, sacrifices another. She and her family disapproved of magic that required live offerings. This was not mere kind-heartedness. The path from thaumaturge to black magician was very short.

Strengthening her resolve, Rachel charged through the door. Across the chamber, students battled each other. In front of the far door, Vladimir Von Dread and William Locke stood back to back in fencing stances, holding off a group of cloudy-eyed students. Sweat glistened on Von Dread’s brow, and his chest rose and fell with the raggedness of his breath, but his expression was deadly calm. He looked like a young avenging god, firing an endless stream of spells from his wand without remorse.

Beside him, Locke regarded the events with a cool, rational demeanor. The only betrayal that this was not an ordinary day was one quirked eyebrow, suggesting that he found the proceedings fascinating, from a purely scientific standpoint. Locke kept a series of three shields hovering in the air before both himself and Dread. If a spell broke through one, he replaced it. Otherwise, he, too, fired spells at their opponents, though not as relentlessly as his companion.

Of the nineteen geased students in the chamber, a mix of boys and girls, three stood motionless, paralyzed. Two struggled inside Glepnir bonds. One hung in mid-air, slowly spinning in a circle. Two writhed, splashing on the wet floor, entangled in vines growing out of their clothing. Of the remaining eleven, Rachel recognized tall, blond, shaggy Remus Starkadder and the two Ishizuka brothers from the Knights of Walpurgis meeting. Remus led the fight along with two other college students: an angry young man in sunglasses with dark skin and a pale skinny young man with stringy red hair. The red-head had blood trickling down his forehead and was cradling his right arm against his chest.

Behind a pillar, though visible to Rachel, Nastasia and Joy stood motionless. The princess stood calmly, one arm outstretched. Joy’s face was a mask of surprise, her hands lifted as if for a cantrip. Beside them, Lucky hovered, hissing.

Water poured around Nastasia’s and Joy’s legs, its level rising. More rushed in from the open door behind Von Dread and Locke. In the distance, Rachel could hear a faint roaring that was growing louder.

“The moat,” Rachel whispered. “This place’s flooding.”

Siggy charged into the vault, pulling out his trumpet. Sliding through the water, he blew a loud blast. Silver sparks picked up the young man in sunglasses who had paralyzed the princess and carried him a hundred-twenty feet, splashing and tumbling. He slammed into a wall. Everyone paused and stared—except for Dread, who kept firing spells.

The geased students fired back at Sigfried. Sigfried backpedaled, waving his hands and shouting. He tried to put up a shield or to perform the deflecting cantrip, but he mixed up the words and gestures. A multicolored swirl of sparks and lights struck him, twirling him in a circle, and throwing him hither and thither, until he ended up hanging upside-down from a golden band looped around his foot that hung in mid-air. He dangled back and forth like a pendulum, swearing foully, including some words Rachel had not previously heard. She wondered if they were truly bad swear words, or if he had made them up. His golden hair waved beneath him, and his trumpet had fallen from his hands. Lucky darted forward and wrapped around his master, breathing a huge gout of flame at the startled students. While they were distracted, Dread took out two of them. The remaining nine turned their attention back to Von Dread and Locke.

Nine against two, and yet those two were holding their own. Rachel moistened her lips, impressed.

Slipping away from the battle, she put her back to the cold stone wall of the foyer outside. Her heart raced. Her body ached. As she struggled to control her rapid breathing, she mentally reviewed the situation. Siggy, Joy, and Nastasia were all stronger sorcerers than she. However, thanks to Gaius, she knew the Word of Ending. If she could cross to where the girls were, she could release them. Unfortunately, they were across the wide chamber. Nor did she know how to free Sigfried. If she tried to cross the room and someone zapped her, that would be it. There would be no cavalry coming to rescue her.

Might there be something else she could do to swing the tide of the battle? She replayed what she had just seen, examining it from different angles. Remus Starkadder! Like his brother outside, the chestnut wolf, his eyes were not cloudy. He was operating far more efficiently than the geased students, firing four times for every one spell the others cast.

If she could take him out, Dread and Locke could wipe up the rest with ease.

Pursing her lips, Rachel stepped back into the Summoning Vault and whistled, her attention focused on the Transylvanian prince. Her cheek ached fiercely, but the fountain water must have helped, because she succeeded despite the agony. Blue sparkles swept toward Remus. They struck the barely-visible crystalline shield that hung in the air around him but did not break it.