The Breaker (The Secret of Spellshadow Manor #2)(51)

A rush of cold air whipped up about him as the wall of snow and ice surged forward in a dense mass, more of a blockade than a simple barrage, and exploded with a bone-shaking bang against the far wall, the small room filling quickly with a blizzard of detonated flakes. Alex whooped with excitement, punching his fist into the air as he felt some of the snowfall land on his cheek, the cooling sensation welcome as it melted against the heat of his sweaty skin.

Sitting down to take a breather, Alex flipped through the pages of the notebook, considering what else he might like to try while he had the time. He paused on the note about death magic. He knew the basis of his ‘essence’, but wondered how it could be physically used, when it was tied so intrinsically to the inner soul of a person. For a brief second, he thought about reaching inside himself and trying to find the corners of this ‘essence,’ but couldn’t bring himself to do it, feeling a tremor of fear shiver up his spine as he recalled the sacrifice Leander had mentioned, in using this mysterious death magic. It was a valid fear—one Leander had shared.

Alex stood back up and held out his palms, contorting his fingers to conjure the body of a sword. He started with the blade, shaping it to his requirements. It emerged from the twisting energy of black vapor and silvery shards, the edges thinning to razor-sharp points that seemed to tremble with power. A radiance shone through the length of the blade, glinting almost like real steel as it stretched out from the bare bones of a hilt.

The notebook had mentioned a focus technique in which the Spellbreaker pinpointed the very center of the object and forced the mind to feel the weight of the weapon it wanted to manifest. Alex concentrated on the sword until he imagined he could see the icy radiance firming up, becoming more tangible. Grasping the weapon, he could feel the weight of an actual hilt in his hand, cold like metal on his skin. The freshly forged blade gleamed as Alex swiped it through the air. Experiencing the sheer weight of the weapon, he held it in both hands as he cut through the atmosphere, feeling the icy rush and powerful vibrations that pulsed down his forearms with each slice.

He practiced for a while, getting comfortable with the weight as he whirled the sword around. Alex was surprised to see that the weapon maintained its shape far longer than any previous attempt had achieved. He liked the feel of it, imagining himself a warrior of old, taking down a Mage on the back of a savage beast.

Eventually, the sword disintegrated, but the bottle still lay unbroken on the floor. With his mouth set in a grim line, Alex held out both hands and turned them upward, moving them in a perfect mirror-image of one another as he created a crackling, violent, snapping ball of black energy, flecked with glimmers of silver. Raising the ball into the air, he snatched his fingers into fists, and the projectile hurtled toward the bottle on the floor. Alex watched in delight as it smashed with an audible crack of glass, the contents erupting in a wave of sour, blood-red liquid that seeped into the ground.

A small vengeance against the Fields of Sorrow, 1908.





Chapter 20





Alex yawned as he made his way back to the dormitory, tired after a brief spell in the library looking up the many uses of clockwork. Unable to focus, he had called it a day and decided to go for an early night instead. His muscles ached a little from his lunchtime sparring, but it was a good pain—it was the ache of progress.

As he opened the wooden door to the dormitory, he was surprised to see Jari sitting on the bed. Jari hadn’t spent any evenings in the dormitory since the curfew had been placed upon the manor, spending what few hours they were permitted elsewhere. Alex was often asleep by the time Jari crept in with a few minutes to spare before the curfew came into action, and he was usually gone again by the time Alex awoke in the morning. After being let down at lunchtime, Alex couldn’t help but feel a lingering annoyance toward his friend, and he struggled to muster a smile as he walked over to his own bed. Jari jumped up and wandered over, his brow furrowed.

“What’s the matter?” asked Alex, seeing the nervous twist of Jari’s hands.

“I need your help,” he whispered, glancing over at the door.

“With what?” Alex tried to stop the irritation from creeping into his voice. Of course Jari would only want to talk these days when he needed something.

“I need to break into the Head’s quarters,” explained Jari, his voice shaking slightly as he met Alex’s eyes with earnest. “The time has come. I have to be certain the Head is gone.” He mumbled something incoherent beneath his breath as Alex sank down onto the mattress.

“Does it make a difference?” said Alex wearily, trying to ignore the tense atmosphere of Jari’s desperation.

“It makes every difference, Alex. There is information we can gather to use against him. This might be our only chance, if he has truly gone.” Jari perched on the edge of the bedframe as he cast anxious glances in Alex’s direction.

Jari made a good point. The Head’s office was a source of untapped knowledge, Alex knew, as he recalled the bookshelf behind the Head’s desk, the one ringed in a glowing red protective barrier. Alex was stronger than he had been the last time he had broken the defenses. Perhaps he could break in more easily a second time, to pilfer whatever he wanted while they had the chance.

Alex remembered Elias’s teasing tales about rare books. If those books were going to be anywhere, they would be on that bookshelf in the Head’s office. Of that, Alex was almost entirely certain.