Abyssal Arcanist [Chapter 18]

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Shami

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

IMPRESSIVE

After a riveting lesson on dragons, the time for our first break arrived.

Kristof set his chalk down and patted his hands together to clear the dust. He faced the class with a stern expression. “You have ten minutes. I expect you all to take care of business and then be back in your seats before time runs out.”

Murmurs of understanding lazily rolled through the room.

Sorin quickly stood, and Nini followed suit.

“We’ll be right back,” my brother said. Then he motioned to Nini with a tilt of his head. “We’re going to… be right back,” he awkwardly repeated.

I nodded once. “I heard you the first time.”

Sorin and Nini headed for the door out of class. Nini’s reaper silently hovered after her, practically a ghost. His scythe floated on the air, and the rusty blade almost chipped the doorframe, but Waste twirled the weapon to fit it just right.

I wondered how the reaper could see, considering it didn’t have eyes. Or a face. Obviously, magic was the answer, but what kind of magic? Telekinesis? Or perhaps it was just invisible…

Exie and Ashlyn stood afterward. I watched the two of them exit the room, and I gave thought to following them, but then I decided against it.

Raaza and Knovak stood and walked to the back of the room. They peered out of the back window, their heads craned backward in an attempt to get a better view of the sky. Were they looking for Kristof’s celestial dragon?

With a playful giggle, Phila leapt from her seat. She walked over to Nasbit, her coatl eldrin close. Once by his side, Phila offered him a smile. Nasbit—who seemed at a loss for words—just grunted an incoherent greeting.

“My grandpa didn’t want me leaving our family compound,” Phila said matter-of-factly, and in my opinion, completely out of nowhere.

She wasn’t talking to me, though. I sat at the next table over, but it wasn’t like she was whispering.

Nasbit nodded, his eyes wide.

“So, I never got to go anywhere until I came of age.” Phila maintained her bright smile. “But when I told my grandpa I wanted to go to the beach, he hired some men to move a bunch of sand and palm trees around until we had our own makeshift beach in the garden.”

I almost laughed.

Phila continued, “I know you don’t like cotillions, and I know Ashlyn’s ended in misfortune, but it was still a shame you didn’t join us.”

With a nervous chuckle, Nasbit said, “Uh, well, thank you. I’m not sure why you’re telling me this, though.”

“I’m trying to say that, when I asked my family for my own cotillion, they said I had to remain at the Academy, but they would bring whatever I needed to have a wonderful time.” Phila held her hands together. “So, I was thinking—what would it take to get you to attend a celebration? Is there a drink you love? A food dish you prefer? Or perhaps an environment? We could get snow! I’m certain my family wouldn’t mind bringing a whole bunch here.”

I petted Twain and just listened to the conversation. I kept my attention on the chalkboard, attempting to hide my smile. Phila wanted Nasbit to attend her cotillion so much, she was going to turn the halls of Astra Academy into a winter wonderland?

Phila was either extremely kind, or she fancied Nasbit more than phoenixes fancied charberries.

“O-Oh, no,” Nasbit mumbled. “I don’t like the cold. Um. I don’t need anything special. If it’s important to you, I’ll attend your cotillion. Just… don’t expect me to dance. Or give a speech. Or socialize much, really.”

“Speech?” Phila laughed into one hand. “I’m only inviting the arcanists of our class. Why would we need a need a speech?” She patted Nasbit’s shoulder. “You’re silly sometimes, but I’m so glad you’ll attend. It would upset me if you were excluded.”

“I’m be pleased as well,” her coatl said, fluffing his parrot-like feathers.

Nasbit tapped his fingers on the top of his table. “Oh. Good.”

Then Phila hurried back to her seat, all smiles and joyful energy. Her cheery demeanor was a stark contrast to the book she opened, though. During our break, she read through War Designs: The History of the Bow and something about it seemed rather grim. Phila hummed as she read.

I was about to comment on all of this with Twain, but before I could voice any of my thoughts, Ecrib snorted a bit of lightning. Then he turned and lumbered toward the back window, his scales glittering in the afternoon light.

Knovak and Raaza leapt out of the dragon’s way as he climbed onto the redwood walkway. Then Ecrib shot me a backward glance. Did he want me to follow? If he did, why did he have to head to the treehouse? Heights weren’t my favorite.

After a long sigh, I got up from my seat. Twain stood and leapt after me as I went straight for the window. The others in class seemed disinterested. Everyone took a seat. We didn’t have much time left on our break, after all.

I stepped up onto the window sill and then out onto the wooden branch-like walkway. The wind howled by, taunting me with promises of falling. I shivered and attempted to not glance down. It had to be thousands of feet to the ground below.

When were those architects going to change things around?

Probably not until Headmaster Venrover got his funding.

“Are you okay?” Twain asked with a tilt of his head.

“I’m fine. I just… get a little nervous around the edges.” I pushed the dread from my thoughts as I headed along the branch. Ecrib wasn’t difficult to spot. I slowly made my way over and rubbed my arms through my robes.

The walkway was wide, and the surface flat. Smaller branches grew off the main one, and I suspected I was perfectly safe, but my imagination clearly held a grudge against me. It made up all sorts of bizarre situations in which the wind threw me to my death.

Once I made it to Ecrib, I asked, “You want to speak?”

The typhoon dragon stood in the middle of the branch, his aquamarine scales flared. Then he pulled back his lips, revealing a whole row of fangs. “This is all your fault.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “What’s my fault?”

Twain puffed his orange fur. “Yeah. You better speak up.”

“My arcanist’s cotillion was ruined because of you.” When Ecrib had spoken the last word, a spark of lightning crackled around his mouth. “I don’t know how or why, but I recognized the midnight waters that appeared during the celebration. Those gate fragments were activated because of your presence.”

That was true.

I crossed my arms. “I didn’t bring any gate fragments to the cotillion.”

Ecrib growled. “My arcanist didn’t tell her father all the details, and now things in her family are strained worse than before.”

“It wasn’t really my fault,” I said, trying to keep my voice low.

But…

It kinda was.

Just like Professor Helmith’s injuries.

“I’m not the one trying to me,” I said, my tone sardonic. “Trust me, I don’t want any of this either.”

“You need to fix it,” Ecrib glowed.

“How?”

Ecrib lowered his head until one of his eyes was close to my face. “My arcanist is precious and wonderful. No person here is worthy of her.”

I said nothing, waiting for the dragon’s condemnation.

“But…” Ecrib slowly lifted his head, his fins relaxing over most of his body. “For some reason, your presence makes her happy. Not her family. Not her brother—and especially not her fiancé. I don’t care what it takes. I want my arcanist to be happy.” Again, he flashed his fangs. “Make it happen.”

I held up my hands. “Whoa, whoa. I can’t just… undo what happened at the cotillion.”

“You can at least try.”

“Look, I had plans, but…” Then a thought struck me. “Wait, her father is upset that everything went wrong at her cotillion? And Ashlyn didn’t get to show off in front of a bunch of nobles?”

Ecrib nodded once. When he snorted, more lightning sparked from his nostrils. “He wanted to announce his daughter’s entrance into the arcanist world. But it was a disaster. Now he and Enki are quite enraged.”

“Enki?”

“My father.” Ecrib placed a clawed hand on his scaled chest. “Is my arcanist’s eldrin.”

Oh, right. Ashlyn’s father had a giant typhoon dragon eldrin. Perfect.

“Okay, listen to this.” I held up my hands, trying to pantomime all my thoughts. “The headmaster is allowing the first- and second-year students to show off in a little competition. How about we try to help Ashlyn win most of whatever takes place.” I made a gesture of her winning and people cheering.

“Will her family see this?” Ecrib asked.

I stopped all my examples and half-shrugged. “We can invite them. Apparently, that’s possible. My father is showing up to the Academy at some point, and Phila is allowed to have her cotillion here. I’m sure if Ashlyn asked the headmaster to invite her family for the competitions, and they saw her win a few things, it would be impressive. Maybe we should just… I dunno… Suggest the headmaster invite tons of people. Maybe sell tickets. He needs funding, right?”

Maybe a lot of people would show up. The more, the better.

Ecrib glowered down at me as he obviously mulled over the proposal.

I liked this idea—because it would allow me to show off as well. Perhaps I still had time to show off in front of Ashlyn’s father and convince him I was amazing.

“This may work,” Ecrib muttered. He snarled a bit as he added, “But if it doesn’t, you will do something else to make this right.”

“Or what?” I asked, more as a joke than anything.

Ecrib flared his scales and practically lunged at me. I leapt back, holding up my hands, and nearly stumbled. Caught off guard, with panic flaring in my thoughts, I didn’t even realize when I tugged on Ecrib’s thread of magic.

Twain bubbled and morphed until he was an identical copy of Ashlyn’s familiar. My forehead burned, and I rubbed at the mark.

Twain stepped between me and Ecrib, his own scales flared.

“Back away,” Twain growled, his voice identical to Ecrib’s.

The typhoon dragon calmed his anger and twitched the tip of his finned tail. “I won’t allow my arcanist to be upset. I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure she gets what she wants.”

He sounded so serious—and proactive. Perhaps Ashlyn was more upset than I originally figured.

“I’ll try my best to make things right,” I said.

Which seemed good enough for Ecrib. He huffed, stomped around Twain, and then headed back to the window that led to our classroom. After a moment to dwell on the situation, I carefully turned on my heel and patted Twain.

“Thanks,” I said.

He nodded once before reverting back to his normal form. As a little kitten, he nuzzled the side of my leg. “We should hurry. I think our ten minutes are almost up…”