The Breaker (The Secret of Spellshadow Manor #2)(42)

Alex was speechless. He could not bring any words to his mouth. Rage gripped his chest in a vice, blood rushing in his ears. Nausea and distress fought for precedence within him as his gaze dropped to the ground, the hatred searing through his veins.

“It wiped the Spellbreakers from existence, but there was a price to pay. Historians aren’t exactly sure of the meaning, but the last sentence of Stormholt’s Essay on the Fields of Sorrow says ‘a great evil was set free that day, as the essence of the last Spellbreaker soaked the battleground.’ Nobody is quite sure what that means, but I’ve always imagined it to be a metaphor for the genocide of the Spellbreakers,” she added with a bashful shrug, adjusting her spectacles as she gave Alex her educated opinion.

Still, Alex said nothing. However, his thoughts were distracted a little by the word ‘essence.’ It intrigued him; they could have picked ‘blood’ or ‘body’ or any such word, but they had chosen ‘essence’ instead. Why would they choose that word over any other? It felt wrong to Alex—out of place, somehow.

He looked to Ellabell. “Why ‘essence’?” he asked, his voice tight with emotion.

“What do you mean?” She frowned.

“Why did they use the word ‘essence’?” he repeated, his eyes narrowing.

“It’s just a word, Alex. Writers like to use interesting words,” she said simply.

“It’s a strange word to use, though, don’t you think?”

“Not particularly. It’s just a word,” sighed Ellabell.

“Where did this happen?” He changed the subject quickly, feeling the burn of his anger threatening to break loose.

“Here,” she answered solemnly.

“What?” spluttered Alex, his pulse racing.

“Well, not right here, obviously, but you can see the last stronghold of the battle from the manor. The final battlefield from the Fields of Sorrow. There were others where the battle was fought, but the one you can see was where it all ended—the place where the last Spellbreaker fell. It’s in a bit of a state, but that’s the place,” she said.

Alex felt his body tense up as he envisioned Aamir, standing beside him on a hill overlooking a desolate, smoking field, more than a lifetime ago it seemed. It was the last vestige of a war that had raged, seemingly, since Mages and Spellbreakers had been placed on opposite sides of an invisible line. This was one last field in countless fields, playing host to the final gasp of his people. The place Leander had made his last stand with those who were left, backed into the corner of this wretched, scorched piece of earth, knowing everyone else was dead across the other battlefields. Alongside the burning anger for the murder of his people, he felt a sudden sadness for the loss of his friend, who had shaped so much of his first year at the manor.

“Why did Mages hate… the Spellbreakers so much?” asked Alex in a whisper, the word ‘us’ almost slipping from his lips.

Ellabell shrugged. “Natural-born enemies, I suppose. Magic and anti-magic, good versus evil,” she said evenly, her expression thoughtful.

“Maybe you’re right,” sighed Alex, though he couldn’t say for sure which side was which.





Chapter 16





Alex was in need of distraction after Ellabell’s storytelling. His mind was overwhelmed with what she had told him, and it was proving difficult to sift through it all to focus on any one fragment in particular. There was so much to take in. He had all but run from her dorm room, his head foggy with confusion and sadness. Pain and anger had made his sudden departure from Ellabell an awkward one, but he hoped she would forgive him. He had stood up quickly, his eyes misting, making his excuses as kindly as he could through gritted teeth, claiming he was overdue at a private tuition. But he wasn’t sure he had convinced her. He at least hoped she wouldn’t bear a grudge against him for his sharp exit.

The knowledge that Malachi Grey had been the last on the battlefield with the mysterious warrior Leander Wyvern haunted Alex, a shiver running through him as he thought of the gray ghost in the flesh and what he had done to Leander. The ambush dashing Leander’s last hope. Alex knew it couldn’t be coincidence that the notebook Elias had given him bore the same lettering as Leander’s name, and he wished the shadow-guide would stop being so elusive so that he could ask a few blunt questions and get some straight answers for once.

It seemed a sick tribute to have the battlefield itself behind the school, for all the young wizards to see. At least it wasn’t used as a method of teaching—to march the students up the hill and make them look at the devastation as they basked in the victory of the Mages and the death of an entire race. At least there was that, Alex thought; the old Mages had the decency not to gloat. It reminded him of history lessons back in the world beyond the manor, whenever World War II came up in the curriculum. Students had stared wide-eyed, shifting in their seats with discomfort as the teacher showed grainy pictures of yellow stars, striped clothing, and concentration camps, horrified that the scenes had once been reality.

Alex was frustrated and in need of somebody to talk to, but he could find neither of his friends anywhere. Pacing the corridor outside Renmark’s classroom, Alex waited, but Natalie never appeared. He checked the library, the dull study hall, and the empty mess hall, but could see no sign of Jari. By the time he had done two laps around the manor, he was at the end of his tether. He needed to speak with them, vent his pain and get their opinion, but his friends had all but disappeared from the face of the earth.