Chapter 11 Caelum Twelve Years Old #2
Of course, he’d never gotten to try out any of his abilities with another kid.
His father treated magical combat like any of his other lessons.
As a result, learning had hardly been “fun” back at the Tower.
Not having fought with with anyone besides his father, Rolf, his father’s other employees, goblins who worked at the Tower, and at various times a centaur, a metamorph, and even a gorgon once, Caelum had his doubts how well he’d do playing against other witches and wizards his age.
It was hard to imagine, really.
He was interested to find out, though.
Fighting was freeing.
Even when it hurt, and it often did hurt, he fell into a no-mind, purely-reactionary, purely-strategic space that let him forget everything else, at least until it was over.
When he really fell into it, he forgot everything, even his father.
Greythorne nodded, but his violet eyes already showed him losing interest. “Alaric likely will run away screaming for the first year of sparring,” he said disparagingly.
“But Higgins’s lad is supposed to be pretty good.
And Grutridge, but that one’s a Warlock, so naturally he’d be a terror in the ring.
Either’ll give your boy a run for his money, Malefic, no matter how well he’s trained.
Grutridge’s has already got a shot at the school’s magical combat team, they say. ”
Malefic only hummed under his breath, his expression indifferent.
The train’s whistle blew loudly from up the platform.
Caelum’s eyes drifted to the open door directly across from him.
Suddenly, it felt real.
He was going somewhere he father wouldn’t be.
When Greythorne nodded and moved off, Caelum looked up at his father.
“I need to get onboard.”
His father gave him a cold nod, gauging his eyes.
He must have seen something there, because he leaned close again.
“You can’t hide from me, Caelum,” he murmured, his hand back on his neck, but lighter that time.
“Don’t forget that. You’re never alone. Never.
” His fingers tightened perceptibly. “And no matter how clever you believe yourself to be,” he whispered.
“You’ll never find everyone who’s watching. Never.”
Caelum’s throat clenched, but he didn’t answer.
His father used the same hand to push him towards the open train door. He released him at the end, and despite his father’s last words, it felt like a collar coming off his neck.
Caelum made sure not to let the difference show on his face.
He didn’t let himself run.
His father continued to watch as he sauntered over to the open train door, then caught the side handle to pull himself lazily up the stairs.
He didn’t look back.
He felt those hard, silver, lifeless eyes on him, anyway.
He took his time finding the three mage boys whose photos his father had given him. He walked the length of the train cars first and glanced into every compartment he passed.
It was strange seeing so many young people.
He’d spent his entire life interacting only with adults. After the thing with the firefoxes, his father didn’t even let him talk to the drakai much, or the Tower goblins.
The thought made his vision waver slightly as a memory of Uric pinned to the board swam behind his eyes.
The arrowhead through his eye, the gleaming knife, dark pelts, blood sinking into the grass, things his nightmares still brought back, even when he meditated for hours before bed, fighting to control his mind––
He forced his eyes back to the narrow hallway of the train.
He breathed, forcing his consciousness into his body, his feet on the wooden floor.
If he lost control… his very first day… well, his father had already warned him what would happen.
The instructions he’d been given were detailed, meticulous, controlled to the point where just considering all the rules he was expected to follow made him feel claustrophobic.
As usual, his father thought of everything.
There were only a few places Caelum would be allowed to deal with any potential “accidents” with his magic. The train to Briarwood definitely wasn’t one of them.
He craved seeing people, though.
He craved seeing young people most of all, even as envy twisted sharply in his gut as he watched them interact.
Most of the kids were older than him, even with him entering school a few years late.
The younger ones, closer to his age, seemed painfully young.
They looked and acted nervous, excited, completely unable to control their emotions or even their bodies.
They ran and tripped and squealed up and down the aisles of the train, switching compartments and walking between cars and speculating loudly about the school, rumors they’d heard about classes and teachers and the city of Cambridge and the dragon that supposedly lived on a nearby mountain.
They bought handfuls of sweets and spread their booty out greedily on the benches and ate through every piece while they talked and laughed.
Caelum fingered his empty pockets and scowled again.
His father hadn’t given him any money, of course.
As much as he’d worked to convince the Bones patriarch that he was trustworthy now, that he took the training seriously, that he believe in the cause and his role in it, he’d never fully succeeded in getting his father to believe him.
Then again, Malefic likely wouldn’t have trusted him no matter what he’d done, not his first year out from under his thumb, no matter how much ideological claptrap Caelum recited back to convince his father he was a true believer now.
The money, though… that struck him as a definite problem.
It was also a problem he intended to remedy, if he could find a way to do it without his father finding out. He’d have to think on the best way to get his hands on some, and, more importantly, a way to hide it so he didn’t get caught.
He found the three mages he’d been instructed to find near the end of the train.
From their reactions to seeing him, they’d been provided with photographs, too.
All three grinned to one another as he walked in, but Caelum felt something hard in his chest relax once he noted the sluggish, cloudy, unstructured magic that whispered around all three of them.
Two were physically a lot bigger than him, but that wouldn’t be a problem if he could dominate their magic.
He couldn’t be too obvious about it, of course.
They would be useful messengers to his father, in any case, once he figured out how to control them.
Which told him they were also likely diversions, at least in part.
His father would have smarter and more magically-adept servants within the walls of of the preparatory school, and not all of them would be students.
Still, his father must have chosen these three beasts for a reason.
Caelum approached them warily.
“Well if it isn’t Poncy Prince Bones.” The tallest of the three boys chortled as he stood to look Caelum up and down. He dipped in a sarcastic bow, bending too low and flinging out an arm mockingly. “Such an honor, sire. We’re so happy to meet our sweet little cash cow.”
“He’s smaller than I thought he’d be,” the shorter, leaner one observed. “Isn’t he smaller than you thought he’d be, Pants?”
“Definitely smaller.” The tall one smirked at Caelum’s face.
“You know, your father said we can beat the shit out of you if you get out of line, Prince Ponce. Or if we get bored. Or if we just feel like it. He also says you’re a little prick who usually needs to learn things more than once.
So we might need to add in some lessons if our message don’t stick. ”
Caelum didn’t change expression.
He walked over to the opposite bench and sat down.
Planting his feet wide in expensive, metal-tipped, mooq leather boots, he folded his arms.
His eyes found the third mage, who still hadn’t spoken. He was somehow larger than the other two, a hulking monster with giant hands and a mean, half-formed face with small eyes. Dirty blond, curly hair covered his ears and neck.
Gauging the look there, Caelum thought, that one, I might need to keep an eye on.
He looked significantly smarter than the other two, even if his magic wasn’t.
Shelving that for now, Caelum gave them each a flat, contemptuous stare.
“You’d better not lay a finger on me in front of another person,” he warned coldly.
“You’re being paid to be my ‘friends,’ remember?
And bodyguards. You start fucking with me in front of people, and it’s not me my father’s going to skin alive.
It’s not my parents, either, who’ll end up in front of a magistrate on some trumped-up charge. ”
Seeing the blood drain out of the taller one’s face, Caelum hid a smirk.
Well, that was easy.
He nodded at the shorter, bonier one. “You’re Maskey?”
Scarpen “Scar” Maskey’s jaw fell stupidly.
“And you’re Panzen,” Caelum said, looking at the taller one disdainfully. His eyes slid casually to the third. “Which means you have to be Voltaire.”
He exhaled as if bored beyond belief by the mere sight of them.
“I should mention,” he said next. “If you three’re thinking you’ll just have a go at me when no one’s looking, I wouldn’t be so sure I can’t defend myself.
Particularly against three simpletons my father didn’t even bother to warn.
But then, it’s unlikely he’ll view it as any great loss if I were to accidentally kill one of you. ”
Caelum watched the three idiots exchange nervous looks.
Maybe he’d been wrong about Voltaire.
He looked as dumb as the other two now.
“I’m thinking I’m officially the leader of this little band of friends my father has so thoughtfully arranged for me,” Caelum pronounced next. “What are your thoughts on the matter, Voltaire?”
The bigger boy scowled at him like a kicked dog.
After another exchanged look with Pants and Scar, he nodded slowly.
“Fine by me,” he muttered. “So long’s I’m getting paid.”
Caelum planted his feet wider.