Academy Arcanist [Chap 13]

Hey peeps!

Here is chapter 13. 

ALSO, I'm almost halfway down with this novel, and my goal is to have a release date of late July, or early August. <3

Shami

(Also, last chapter, Gray was being followed by a puppet in the dark, just as a refresher, lol)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A PUPPET

I ran.

Without looking back, I pushed myself to run full speed ahead. The memorial was dark and cold, but the light of the distant exit was plain as day. I headed straight for it, desperately craving an exit out of the shadows.

That was when I almost tripped over something. My foot caught an object, and I heard a distinct meow-yelp as I stumbled and flailed my arms. The click-clacking of the puppet didn’t stop though, even as I took a moment to regain my balance.

“What’s going on?” a child-like voice hissed. “You kicked me!”

I bent over, waving my arms until my hand bashed against the side of the kitten. Although the little hellion scratched me, I scooped him up into my arms and ran for the exit.

“What’s going on?” Twain shouted, his little kitten voice drowned out by the puppet’s clacking movements. “Put me down!”

Sorin had already exited the memorial. I rushed out the door, and few feet from the exit. Without slowing at all, I slammed into him. He grunted as he stepped forward once, but I practically bounced off him, losing my footing. Sorin grabbed me before I toppled over.

Twain shuddered in my arms, having no doubt felt the brunt of the collision. The dazed kitten didn’t say anything.

“Gray?” my brother asked, concern in his voice.

With shaky breaths, I tried to steady myself. Before I answered, Sorin turned his attention to the false sky overhead.

“Are those dark clouds? I wonder why the Academy would change the weather.” With a sigh, Sorin added, “It’s like the sky wants to write a poem for my mood.”

I grabbed his coat. “They’re here,” was all I managed to choke out. The click-clack of the monsters hadn’t stopped. I pointed back at the darkness inside the memorial. “We have to go!”

He glanced back at my, an eyebrow lifted. “Who’s here?”

“The monsters! From my dreams. Right over there.”

“Monsters?”

But we had run out of time.

The very same nightmarish creature that plagued my dream emerged from the darkness of the memorial. A spider marionette—a wooden doll held by invisible strings—clattered its way out the door. It had hands at the end of its eight, long legs, and its face was an emotionless stage mask, complete with circle holes for eyes and a line for a mouth.

If it were the size of a spider, it wouldn’t have been a concern, but the monster was slightly larger than a horse. It moved with jerked motions, its wooden hands clicking against the stone floor as it moved.

All of Twain’s fur stood on end as his kitten eyes went wide.

“What is that?” Sorin shouted. He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the puppet. “Gray?”

“It’s a monster,” I said, unable to provide more of an explanation. “We have to run!”

The marionette spider lifted one of its legs. The fingers on its hand sprouted knives—long, sharp, deadly. A phantom pain shot through my back as I recalled the agony of its attack. I was frozen for a moment, caught in my own memories and dread, trapped in the quicksand of panic.

Sorin pulled me as he ran, and I was jerked back to my senses. With a deep gulp of air, I dashed away from the puppet as it made its first swing. The blades whistled through the air, but missed both Sorin and I.

We ran around the building, my heart pounding straight up my throat. Piper had said the arcanists of the Academy wouldn’t help us with the Trials of Worth, but wouldn’t they help us if we were in trouble? She had made some sort of comment about returning to her, hadn’t she?

Sorin must’ve had the same thought. He veered toward the location where we had first arrived in the Menagerie. I ran alongside him, but I was naturally faster. I pulled ahead as we ran down the hill.

The puppet chased us relentlessly, though slower than in my dreams. When it ran down the grassy hill, the knives of its hand slashed up the ground, leaving even the Menagerie wounded.

The illusioned sky had turned on us. Gone was the sunshine and warmth. It had all been replaced with dark clouds and an ominous chill. There was enough light to see, but just barely. I didn’t know my way around the Menagerie. Was there a way out of here that didn’t involve teleportation?

I hadn’t seen a door.

With a huff, I arrived at the starting location Piper had brought us to. I glanced around, my heart racing.

“Where is everyone?” Twain asked in a tiny voice. “I don’t see anybody…”

Sorin ran up to me, his breathing labored. I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the grove of trees. Wasn’t there a kitsune there? Her fox fire could help!

“Gray?” my brother asked between gulps of air.

The puppet chased us toward the grove.

My heart sank when we reached the first grouping of trees.

No one was here. I glanced around wildly, trying to spot even a trace of their presence, but I saw nothing. No footprints. No kitsune fur. Even the grass seemed undisturbed.

“Help!” I shouted. “Anyone!”

But no one answered.

When I turned my attention to the branches overhead, it seemed as though a fog had settled over us. The Menagerie wasn’t as pristine or beautiful as it had been when we arrived—it was hazy, like a dream. Where were we? I hadn’t fallen asleep. Sorin and Twain were with me. What was this?

It had to be dream. But how did all three of us get here?

“Gray!”

My brother’s voice almost didn’t register. I turned on my heel just in time to catch sight of the marionette-spider rushing up on me. It lifted its bladed hand, and I didn’t have time to leap away.

Sorin pushed me out of the way just as the puppet swung. The blades caught Sorin’s shoulder, slicing through his clothing and flesh, splattering the ground with his blood. He yelled as he grabbed at his injured shoulder, his face contorted in pain.

The puppet-spider didn’t seem interested in my brother, though. It turned its facemask on me. But I couldn’t buckle, not now—not when I was so close to becoming an arcanist. I ran right toward it and the spider lifted its face, as though confused.

Twain dug his kitten claws into my arm, causing me to bleed. He, too, was probably confused.

I went for one of the puppet’s legs and kicked it on long, thin portion of the wood. I had given it my all, and the leg of the monster splintered under my boot. It didn’t break, but it had fractured. The cracking sound of wood filled the grove.

My leg hurt for a moment, but the pain was forgotten as I stumbled away.

The puppet didn’t cry out or flinch, but it did lift its leg and hold the broken portion in front of its mask. The thing had no eyes—the hole of the mask just showed more wood—but it “examined” the injury as though observing it like any normal creature.

“Let’s go!” I said as I grabbed Sorin’s uninjured arm.

Together, we ran out of the grove, but I was at a loss for where to head next. Instead of hesitating, I ran for the underground lake. It was near the marsh. I had seen a giant frog in the water. Would it still be there?

The marionette attempted to follow us, but its leg splintered even further when it took a step. The jerked motions of its movements, as though on strings, didn’t mean it was weightless, apparently. The spider examined its broken limb a second time, its mannerisms almost irritated.

“What’s going on?” Twain shouted. He still had his tiny claws in my arms. “Why are there monsters here? Where’s the headmaster? He’ll save us! He has to!”

I ignored the kitten’s cries as we made our way to the lake. Sorin huffed and puffed until we came to a stop. Then he inhaled at a fierce rate, his body shaky. Blood wept from his injured shoulder. The puppet had cut him deep.

I placed Twain down on the ground and examined his injury.

“Help!” Twain shouted. He bounded to the edge of the water. “Come out here, Itachi! We need your help!” The kitten pawed at the smooth waters. A slight ripple spread out from the shore. “Itachi? Can you hear me?”

The body of water was more an ambitious pond than a lake. It was only four feet deep, even in the middle. Decorative boulders were placed at strategic places around the edges, and a single weeping willow was positioned on the far side. The pristine waters were clear enough to showcase the beauty of the lake’s floor. There were colorful stones embedded in the dirt—a mosaic in the shape of feathered dragon.

But there weren’t any creatures swimming in the water. Whoever “Itachi” was, they weren’t here.

Sorin knelt on to one knee, his body shaking harder than before. “Gray… I feel weird…”

I grabbed under his arm, digging my hand into his armpit as I struggled to lift him. “Get up!”

The puppet was moving toward us at a slow but steady pace. It didn’t want to put weight on its broken leg, and it occasionally stopped to inspect the damage, as though it were a problem it didn’t know how to deal with.

“I’m cold,” Sorin said, his voice quiet. “Gray, just go. I’ll…”

Although the puppet seemed interested in me, it had also displayed some intelligence. If I left Sorin, would the monster use my brother as bait? Would it harm Sorin until I surrendered? I couldn’t take that chance. We had to stick together.

“Get up,” I commanded.

“I can’t. I… I feel weak.” Sorin scrunched his eyes closed. “Just go, Gray. I don’t… I don’t want to be responsible for your death, too.”

His words stabbed me, even through the sheer terror of the situation.

“The headmaster abandoned me,” the kitten muttered. Twain lied on the ground and pressed his paws over his ears. “Everyone always abandons me… This is it. This is how I die.”

Their despair was infectious.

For a flicker of a moment, I almost gave in and joined them—I almost wallowed in our seeming defeat. But that moment faded just as quickly as it had come.

I yanked on Sorin’s arm, forcing him to his feet.

“Gray?” he asked.

“We’re not giving up,” I said, practically shouting. “I don’t care what’s in our way! If it’s a wall, we’ll go left and walk around. If that doesn’t work, we’ll go right. If that doesn’t work, we’ll climb or dig! I’ll find a way to travel around the whole world and approach the wall from the other side if that’s what needed! So never give up, do you understand me? We’ll think of something!”

My brother and Twain both stared at me, their eyes wide. The kitten had mismatched eyes—one pink, and the other… gray. Not as pale blue as Sorin and I, but an unmistakable gray that caught my attention in that brief moment.

“You’ll find a way?” Twain whispered.

The puppet-spider approached us, its knife-hand lifted for an attack.

I pulled Sorin into the pond. We waded through the water as the monster swung and missed with its knives. Twain, panicking, leapt from the shore and hooked his claws into my arm. I sucked in air through my teeth as sharp pain flared through my body.

Twain clung to me, shivering. “I… I don’t want to give up.”

I plunged my hand into the pond and grabbed a mosaic stone. As the spider slowly crept into the pond, its mask facing me, I asked, “Do you have magic? Anything?”

With a grunt, I threw the decorative stone at the monster. It clacked against its wooden body and did nothing.

“Mimics only have the power of the creature they’ve transformed into,” Twain said, his voice warbling. “I-I don’t know what to do…”

Twain was a mimic?

Oh, that was right! Professor Helmith had said that mimics were little copycats. They transformed into another mystical creature—exactly as they were. If the creature was old, the mimic would be old. If the creature hadn’t developed its magics, the mimic wouldn’t have any either. The mimic always transformed into the perfect replica.

“Transform into a mystical creature!” I shouted as I dragged Sorin deeper into the lake. He was resting more and more of his weight on me, as though he couldn’t hold himself up.

“I can only transform into something nearby,” Twain said as he closed his eyes. “There are so many!”

And they were all young.

The pegasi. The kitsune. All baby mystical creatures. And since they hadn’t bonded yet, all their magic would be weak.

But the professors were nearby. Piper had a rizzel. Captain Leon had a cerberus…

Then the answer came to me.

The puppet-spider reached it long leg out, slashing at me in a wide arc. I splashed backward, the cold water numbing half my body.

The cerberus had said Professor Helmith was nearby—in the Academy.

“Transform into an ethereal whelk!” I commanded.

Twain’s ears shot straight up. “R-Really?”

“Do it!”

Twain nodded once. Then his body contorted in my arms, his orange fur shifting and shimmering with deep power. He felt warm. And then cold.

Within the blink of an eye, Twain had shifted forms.