The Iron Trial
Page 39“We talked about our lessons,” Aaron volunteered. “Drew followed us into the hall — he wanted to talk to Call.”
“About the Devoured. I think he was really scared.” Call didn’t know what else to say. He had no other explanation for Drew’s behavior.
“Thank you,” said Master North. “Now we need you to go back to your rooms and put on your uniforms. We’re going to need your help. Drew left the Magisterium sometime after ten tonight, and it was only due to another apprentice getting up for a midnight glass of water and finding his note that we discovered he was gone at all.”
“What did the note say?” Tamara asked. Master Lemuel glowered at her, and Master North looked surprised to be interrupted. Clearly, neither of them knew Tamara very well.
“That he was running away from the Magisterium,” Master Lemuel said quietly. “You know how dangerous it is for half-trained mages to be loose in the world? And that’s to say nothing of the Chaos-ridden animals that make their homes in the neighboring woods.”
“We have to find him,” Master Rufus said, nodding slowly. “The whole school will help search. We can cover more ground that way. I hope that explanation is sufficient, Tamara. Because time really is of the essence.”
Flushing, Tamara rose and headed toward her room, and Aaron and Call went to theirs. Call slowly drew on his winter clothes: his gray uniform, a thick sweater, a zip-up hoodie. The adrenaline of being woken by the mages was burning off and he was starting to realize how little sleep he’d had, but the idea of Drew stumbling through the dark made him blink himself awake. What had made Drew run?
Reaching for his wristband, Call’s fingers trailed over Alastair’s cuff and the mysterious note to Master Rufus. He remembered his father’s words: Call, you must listen to me. You don’t know what you are. You must get away as soon as you can.
He was supposed to be the one running, not Drew.
“Call,” she said. “Come on, we’ve got to — what’s that?”
“What’s what?” He glanced down and realized he still had the drawer pulled open, Alastair’s wristband and letter on full display. He fished the wristband out and leaned back, pushing the drawer closed with his weight. “I — this is my father’s wristband. From when he was at the Magisterium.”
“Can I see?” Tamara didn’t wait for an answer, just reached out and plucked it from his hand. Her dark eyes widened as she looked at it. “He must have been a really good student.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Those stones. And this —” She broke off, blinking. “This can’t be your father’s wristband.”
“Well, I guess it could be my mother’s….”
“No,” Tamara said. “We saw their handprints in the Hall of Graduates. They both graduated, Call. Whoever’s wristband this is, it ends at Silver Year. There’s no gold.” She handed it back to him. “This bracelet belonged to someone who never graduated from the Magisterium.”
“But —” Call broke off as Aaron came in, his wavy hair pasted down to his forehead. He looked like he’d splashed water on his face to wake up.
Call shoved the wristband into his pocket, remaining conscious of Tamara’s curious gaze on him as they followed Master Rufus through the tunnels. Call’s leg was stiff, the way it was most mornings, so it was slow going for him. Aaron and Tamara were careful to match their speed to his, though. For once, he wasn’t mad about it.
On the way out, they ran into the rest of the apprentices being led by their Masters, including Lemuel and North. The kids looked as confused and worried as Master Rufus’s apprentices did.
A few more turns and they came to a door. Master Lemuel opened it and they stepped into another cave, this one with an opening at the end that wind blew through. They were going outside — and not the way they’d come in that first day. This cave was open at the far end. In the stone was set a pair of giant metal gates.
They had clearly been forged by a Master of metal. They were wrought iron, tapering to sharp points at the top that almost brushed the cave ceiling. Across the the gates, the metal bent into words: Knowledge and action are one and the same.
It was the Mission Gate. Call remembered the boy strapped to the stretcher of branches, his skin half burned off, and realized that in the confusion, he’d never noticed much about the gate itself.
“Call, Tamara, Aaron,” Master Rufus said. Beside him was tall, curly-haired Alex, looking uncharacteristically somber. He wore his uniform and a thick cloaklike coat over it. There were gloves on his hands. “Alexander will be leading you. Do not leave his side. The rest of us will be within shouting distance. We want you to cover an area near one of the Magisterium’s less-used exits. Look for any trace of Drew, and if you see him, call out for him. We think it more likely that he will trust one of his own Iron Years than a Master or even an older student like Alex.”
Call wondered why the Masters thought Drew would be more likely to trust another student over them. He wondered if they knew more about why Drew had run away than they were letting on.
“Then what do we do?” Aaron asked.
“What about the Chaos-ridden animals in the woods?” Gwenda asked. “Aren’t they dangerous to us, too?”
Master Milagros looked toward Alex and another older student. “You won’t be alone out there. Stick together and signal us immediately if there’s a problem. We will keep close by.”
Already, some of the apprentice groups were moving out into the night — summoning glowing orbs that flew through the air like disembodied lanterns. A low hum of whispers and mutterings accompanied them as they made their way into the dark woods.
Call and the others followed Alex. When the last apprentice passed through the gate, it shut with a disturbingly final clang behind them.
“That’s the sound it always makes,” Alex said, looking at Call’s expression. “Come on — we’re going this way.”
He headed toward the woods, along a dark path. Call stumbled over a root. Aaron, always looking for an excuse, summoned his sparking blue ball of energy, looking pleased that it would be useful. He grinned as it spun above his fingers, lighting the air around them.
“Drew!” Gwenda called. Echoes of other Iron Year students could be heard in the distance. “Drew!”
Jasper rubbed his eyes. He was wearing what appeared to be a fur-lined coat and a hat with earflaps that was slightly too big for his head. “Why do we have to be put in danger just because some dweeb decided he couldn’t handle it anymore?” he demanded.