Chapter 1:
Learning to Survive
Green slitted eyes crept closer to Linc on quiet cat paws, bending down to examine its prey. The narrow pupils blinked; coarse cat whiskers twitched. Could Linc be shrinking or were those cat eyes growing, blocking out the daylight with blinding green bursts of light. Swirling vortexes swam in those green irises like giant floaters, mesmerizing, hypnotizing. He wanted to scream but could not make a sound. He tried again, this time hearing his own ragged breathing.
The cat sniffed once again before lifting its left lip with a snarl, exposing one sharp incisor. Linc tried to run but his feet seemed glued to the floor. Growling low, haunches tensed to strike, the cat pounced, and Linc awoke with a cry. His face was pressed into the mattress and the coarse edge of the pillow was sticking out of his mouth like a dead mouse. He gagged before sitting up sweating, terrified, and disoriented.
It had been four miserable days since he had joined the Warlock’s cadets. Four days trying to figure out how to create a distraction to free his magick teacher, Jules, buried alive in the Warlock’s victory wall. Linc was already feeling the panic of failure. How could he possible create a distraction that would fool the Warlock?
He waited until his pounding heart slowed before lying back down on the cold, thin mattress. Since he’d arrived in Wintermire, Linc had tried his best to pretend he was from the small mining town of Sulphur Dale, but he didn’t think he was very convincing. Already, his fellow-cadet, Trystan, was suspicious. Linc had never heard of Mel’s Bells, he didn’t know how to play the card game Crackin’ Crabs, and he’d never before tasted the famous Wintermire specialties – Crackin’ Mack’s Snack and Crackin’ Bill’s Swill. It would be like Trystan appearing in Linc’s world and saying he’d never heard of a cell phone.
Almost every hour, Linc was discovering new things about Wintermire, although he tried not to let it show. If the Warlock ever discovered that he was trying to rescue Jules, the punishment was beyond horrifying. Linc either would be tortured and killed or turned into a mouse and eaten alive. Just thinking of the possibilities was enough to make sleeping in the castle nearly impossible, and the worn mattresses in the cold basement didn’t help.
When the morning alarms started ringing, Linc was staring blankly at the dark ceiling. Rubbing his eyes, he stood and joined the other cadets hurrying up for breakfast. Wintermire cadets were drafted for a two-year term. Once the two years were up, any cadet could stay on as a full-time guardsman, but it was rare for a cadet to accept that offer. According to Trystan, most cadets happily returned home. Even mundane jobs were preferable to the Warlock’s unpredictable wrath.
Linc had guard duty this morning, along with Jack and Theo. The highlight would be learning to shoot a FROST rifle (short for Freeze, Restrain, Overpower, Secure and Terminate). Shooting the rifle was something that every cadet wanted to try. While the rest of the day might be boring, at least they would be outdoors. It was always sunny in Wintermire, but being stuck in the dark, gloomy castle made Linc feel sun deprived.
As everyone moved around him, Linc stood still, still fretting over why his sister had run away from Tuts, crying. There was only one answer that made any sense: Jules had died and the mission had already failed. But if that was true, would they leave him behind or still come back for him?
He must have been standing in one place too long because Lem bumped into him, almost knocking him over. “Oh, I thought you were a wall.” He chuckled, amused at his own humor.
“Very funny.” Linc glared back before shaking it off and taking a quick shower. He was late coming to breakfast and stared at the one remaining bowl filled with green grains of cereal salted with chunks of blue nuts. Stomach growling, Linc poured the watery milk over the strange-looking cereal.
As soon as he finished eating, Linc walked with Jack and Theo down the long hall to the front doors. Together they stepped outside and walked past a line of menacing guards. No one uttered a word until they cleared the portcullis and stood in the fresh morning sunlight. Linc looked up to the sky and sighed, letting the sun caress his face.
“Fresh air,” Jack said, taking a deep breath. He rarely smiled and it was surprising how much the slight lift of his lips softened his face. Taller and thicker than many of the guards, Jack’s normal expression was a scowl.
Theo couldn’t stand still. He fidgeted, looking excitedly around for the guards who would take them on the day’s patrol. When he saw the three guards heading their way, he sharply elbowed Jack and Linc. “They’re coming!”
The guards were gruff-looking men with rough-cut beards and hard, calculating eyes. The heaviest guard paused to look the cadets up and down with a vague disinterest before instructing them to follow. As soon as the passed the barracks, Linc saw the victory wall to his left and a chill raced up his spine.
Jules is right over there! Why can’t I just sneak out in the middle of the night and dig her out? I could steal some knives from the kitchen and go at it. How hard could it be? Of course, I’d have to get past the guards. Suddenly, the idea didn’t seem quite so simple.
They obediently followed along the perimeter which formed a wide oval. “We look for footprints or any kind of disturbance to the grass,” a guard explained, scratching the white whiskers on his cheek, “but I’ve never come across anything suspicious.”
“Nope. No one living in this city is stupid enough to try,” said the fat guard. “It would be suicide.” The third guard didn’t speak but Linc sensed that he was the most menacing. Thin and dark with a scar across his chin, his scowl was as intimidating as Jack’s.
The guards strode across the grounds, chests out, looking fierce and proud. Occasionally, they stopped to poke into bushes or look up the hills where the land rose to meet the crenelated wall and terraced homes. Mostly, they ignored the cadets, arguing over their last card game, recalling the hands they held and all the ways the cards went against them.
After an hour, Jack poked Linc, startling him out of his daydreams. They were standing in front of the eastern wall where large sections of the wall had broken apart, leaving gaping holes several feet across. In front of the wall, the land was left untended. Overgrown coarse grasses and short, thorny bushes served as its own barrier. Through the openings in the wall, Linc could see a wide meadow blanketed with needle-sharp weeds and scraggly bushes, rising steadily to meet the distant hillsides.
The white-whiskered guard was pointing to a damp, bubbling marsh near the wall, surrounded by sharp-edged grasses and cattails. “Never follow any animal or person into this marsh. It’s quicksand and it will suck you down. Before you know what’s happened, your eyes and throat will be filled with that muck. Once you’re down under, you’re lost for good.”
The guard with the scar on his chin smiled wickedly. “That bog is sometimes used to punish cadets who don’t do as they’re told.”
The fat guard started chuckling. “Mommy help! Mommy!” he mimicked in a high falsetto. “They always cry out for their mums, don’t they?”
“Sorry mum, but your boy just vanished one day. We think he ran away.” Scarface laughed along with the other guards. “The Warlock is such a comforting soul when delivering bad news.” That thought produced gales of laughter.
Theo tried to match Jack’s scowl but he slowly inched his way behind Linc.
About a quarter mile past the bog, Linc noticed that all the greenery on the far hillside was dead. Grasses, bushes, trees were blighted, burned white as snow. A few steps later, he figured out why. That edge of the property was used for target practice.
The white-whiskered guard turned back to the three cadets. “Ever shoot one of these?” he asked slyly, lifting his rifle.
Theo stepped forward excitedly. He’d wanted to shoot a FROST rifle ever since he was a toddler. Scar-face smirked. “I don’t think that boy is much bigger than our targets. We should put him up on the hillside as our new target. He can even run if he wants. Better target practice if he’s moving.”
“Knock it off,” Jack said softly, but his voice had an edge. “You’re not going to throw us in the quicksand or use us for target practice.”
“I suppose not,” white-whiskers admitted, “not unless the Warlock tells us to.” The man wasn’t joking and Jack wondered if some cadet he never knew was lying at the bottom at that bog. When Jack didn’t respond, the guard reluctantly handed over his rifle. “Go ahead and try. There’s nothing to it. Just point and shoot.”
Theo reached to take the rifle but Jack pushed him aside. He let the guard stand for a moment with his arm outstretched. “I’ll tell you what. Hand me your gloves and you hold the rifle with your bare hands.”
Linc wasn’t sure what was happening, but he knew enough to keep his mouth shut.
The chubby guard slapped his thigh, chuckling. “Well, isn’t he the smart one? Go ahead,” he nodded to the white-bearded guard, “hand him your gloves.”
Jack slipped on the heavy gloves while explaining to Linc and Theo, “If you shoot without gloves, you’ll burn your hands. The barrel, grip and trigger are all ice cold.” He pulled back his head to check the settings on the stock’s side. Inlayed into the wood were tiny switches that could be set on “Full Force” or “Stun;” also “Wide Spray” or “Narrow Spray.” The guards had set the switches to “Full Force” and “Wide Spray,” and Jack left them that way. Resting the stock against his shoulder, he stared down the rifle’s sights and pulled the trigger.
A high-pitched EEEEEEsssh shattered the calm air, then another and another. Linc wanted to cover his ears but didn’t. He watched Jack shoot at a dead tree more than a hundred feet away. There was no need to be a sharp shooter with those settings. The icy spray struck anything within several feet of the tree.
“Not bad. Not bad at all.” The fat guard nodded approvingly. Linc wasn’t sure if it was Jack’s size or his fierce scowl, but the guards respected him far more than the other cadets.
As soon as Jack lowered the rifle, Theo grabbed it from his hands and glared up at the guards. “I don’t need gloves. I might be small but I’m tougher than all of you.”
“Theo, don’t …” Jack started to say, but Theo marched away and lifted the rifle toward the far slope. The screech of the rifle seemed louder as Theo shot it four times into the hillside. Then he turned and handed the rifle back to Jack.
Theo didn’t need to look at his hands to know they had already started to blister from the freezing cold of the rifle’s grip. Ignoring the pain, he proudly held up his burned palms. “Who’s tough enough to do that?” The three grizzled guards looked at Theo as if he had lost his mind, then looked to each other, chuckling and shaking their heads.
Linc gratefully took the gloves from Jack before picking up the rifle, trying not to look at Theo’s red, blistered palms. Taking his time, he aimed at the hillside, imagining he was shooting at the Warlock. He nuzzled the stock against his shoulder and pulled the trigger. There was no kick-back at all. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the settings and switched “Wide Spray” to “Narrow Spray.”
Then using the sights, he stared down the length of the barrel and shot three times at the tree. He missed the tree but the icy spray didn’t scatter like shotgun pellets. Instead, it shot a narrow blast of cold, the width of one person.
“Why’d you do that?” Scar-faced asked. “Guards only use the Wide setting.” He grabbed the rifle and changed back the setting.
They turned back toward the castle when Jack leaned over to Theo. “What were you thinking? You have nothing to prove.”
Theo didn’t answer but then tears started running down his face. “It really hurts now. At first, it didn’t hurt so much.”
“Oh jeez.” Linc didn’t know what to do. “Just hold on. We’ll figure something out.” He looked over to Jack who frowned and lifted his hands. He didn’t know what to do either. Suddenly, spending the day in the sunshine wasn’t so much fun.
The guards seemed oblivious to Theo’s suffering and continued their slow walk around the grounds. Theo was doing everything he could to not cry out in pain while Linc was sending healing energy his way. He wasn’t sure how much good he was doing since he wasn’t able to focus inside a circle. Still, he sent as much energy as he could, hoping it helped.
Another three hours passed before they returned to the castle. It was close to noon when they arrived at the portcullis, and by that time, Theo’s palms were so swollen his hands had doubled in size. Turning toward the entrance, everyone halted in surprise as the Warlock stepped out from beneath the shadow of the portcullis.
The guards saluted and the cadets dropped their heads in respect. Ignoring them, the Warlock wandered into the light, standing like a wavering shadow in the bright sunshine. Then he turned toward the guards and examined each of them with the same intensity as if choosing among expensive truffles.
Suddenly, his whiskers twitched and he turned to face Linc directly, a puzzled expression on his face. He took a step closer. “There’s something familiar about you. Remind me when we met before.”
A cold sweat broke out under Linc’s uniform and his heart raced. “On the midway, Sorcerer Supreme.”
The Warlock’s index finger tapped against his pale cheek as he tried to remember. “No, not there. Don’t worry. It will come to me. It always does.” He took a step closer and sniffed, his whiskers twitching like a cat’s. Greasy black curls fell forward as he concentrated. Linc tensed, waiting for the Warlock to remember his scent or maybe even his voice when he called out to Jules as she was dragged into that dark hole. Instead, the Warlock caught sight of Theo’s swollen, burned hands. Instantly suspicious, he glared at Theo. “What is this? Some new magick gone awry?”
Theo’s face was splotchy but the tears had dried. He looked up defiantly. “No, Sorcerer Supreme. The guards thought I was weak so I shot the FROST rifle without gloves to prove I was tougher than any of them.” His lower lip started to tremble.
The Warlock looked to the guards for confirmation and when they silently nodded, his anger vanished. “I like spunk in my cadets! Just don’t be foolish enough to let your hands be burned by the icy spray or you might lose them! Then what good would you be to me?” He coughed twice with mirth. “Go ask the cook for his healing balm. Tell him I sent you. Go on!” Theo nodded and took off running, new tears starting to run down his face.
Linc waited in terror for the Warlock to turn back but he didn’t. He just wandered away, his black cape flowing on the grass behind him like a gentle wave. The guards warily watched the Warlock saunter away. “Take your lunch break but meet us back here in an hour.”
Once dismissed, Linc ran ahead of Jack. Racing through the Great Hall, he hurried into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Barely able to make it to the toilet, he grabbed the edge and vomited up his breakfast. It came out as green slime, making him gag even harder. Someone pounded on the bathroom door but he ignored whoever it was, gagging once again before flushing the toilet. Standing in front of the sink, Linc washed out his mouth, hoping he wouldn’t puke again. Then he turned and unlocked the door.
Garrold pushed in, Terid not far behind. “What are you locking the door for?”
“Sorry. My hand must have slipped on the lock.”
Linc walked past them, staring unseeing into the Great Hall as the cadets started lining up for lunch. With a jolt, he realized it no longer mattered what happened between Summer and Tuts on the castle grounds. From this point forward, he would need all his wits just to survive each day.