The Secret of Spellshadow Manor by Bella Forrest (classic english novels txt) 📗

back to the class earlier that day. He had accidentally used his powers to snuff out Natalie’s magic, even though it had offered no threat to him. He had acted not on instinct, but with purpose.

“I’d like another turn,” he said abruptly.

Aamir looked skeptically over at him from where he had been badgering Natalie.

“You do not look ready,” he said.

Alex shook himself off, trying to ease the tension from his sore limbs as he got to his feet and moved to the center of the room.

“I have something I want to try,” he said.

Aamir sighed, tilting his head toward Natalie. “Can you talk any sense into him?”

Natalie laughed. “Not usually. But I would let him try again.”

With a dark look, Aamir turned back toward Alex.

“You’re both crazy,” he said. “And I’m not responsible for what happens.”

“Of course,” Alex said, taking a wide stance.

Aamir moved, and by now Alex could read the attack fairly well. The way the young man’s hands moved, his fingertips flickering, meant fire was coming. The way his palm jutted out meant it would be a spear.

This time, however, Alex made no effort to dodge. He half closed his eyes, letting raw instinct take control as he stepped toward the attack, one hand sliding forward toward the other boy’s magic. He felt the cold as his hand entered the flames, but he shut his mind to that. He let his fingers play in the frigid currents of magic, feeling them out, until suddenly something new slipped into him.

Twisting at the center of the flames, it was quiet, calculating, full of knowledge and energy, and Alex knew instinctively that this was Aamir. His magic, his soul, his very being. Alex twisted his hand, and gently pressed the energy to one side, diverting it away from him.

It almost worked. For all his calm, Alex’s technique was sloppy; he watched in dismay as the center of the spear of flames shattered in a white explosion of icy dust while the front, like an arrow cut mid-flight, hooked and smashed into his chest. He found himself once again on the ground, gasping, covered in snow, his breath ripping at his throat.

Aamir walked up, thrusting out a hand.

“You all right?”

Alex seized Aamir’s hand, nodding, and Aamir pulled him upright.

“You done yet?” Aamir asked.

Alex shook his head.

“Only getting started.”

Chapter 32

As January dragged on and February drew ever closer, Alex found himself spending more and more time in the library researching the history of Spellbreakers. He stayed up late, sitting up amid the books under the soft light of a hundred paper lanterns, reading and hoping to find answers.

In book after book, however, he met with the same eerie discrepancy. Every time he drew toward what appeared to be the end of magical history, the books would simply stop. Chapters upon chapters of empty pages, the words all vanished as if they had never existed.

Alex let out a groan as a particularly promising-looking tome turned out to contain the same problem, and jammed the book back onto the shelf where he had found it. He wondered if the other students, or teachers for that matter, would be able to shed some light on the issue, but somehow, it seemed like a bad idea to ask. Standing, he made his way down the steps of the library-tower and back to the little table where Natalie was transcribing a line of Latin onto a piece of paper.

She looked up as he approached.

“Anything?”

Alex shook his head.

“Perhaps you should focus on figuring out anti-magic,” Natalie said. “It may help you win against Aamir.”

Alex sighed. While his Spellbreaker skills were improving, they were still nowhere near enough to fight a proper mage. Aamir still smacked him around with relative ease.

Natalie, on the other hand, still managed to put up a good fight against Aamir. Her technique, which she called ‘grabbing’, continued to be a thorn in Aamir’s side, and the boy persisted in demanding that she show him how it was done. Natalie, however, seemed delighted to put him off, insisting that he work for it.

“Why do you read so many histories?” Natalie asked, tilting her head. “What are you looking for?”

“Answers,” Alex muttered. “To any of this.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, “answers would be useful.” But she didn’t seem to be fully listening, concentrating instead on her magic.

She made a couple quick motions of her hand, and magic flared about it. Then she turned green as a dull red throb ran through the golden fire, and she put her hand back down, panting slightly.

Alex watched with a frown. “I really wish you’d talk to someone about that.”

He’d been trying to get Natalie to speak with a teacher about her illness for about a week now, but she was strangely reluctant. Alex was sure at this point it was something magical, but Natalie insisted on pretending nothing was wrong.

“I am fine,” she said, wiping at her brow. “I just didn’t sleep enough last night.”

“You’re falling apart,” Alex replied, perhaps more sharply than he had intended.

Natalie glared at him. “Don’t tell me what I am feeling,” she snapped.

Alex held up his hands in surrender, but irritation churned his gut. He looked up toward the library-towers, wondering if there was anything about magical illnesses up there. He was sure there would be.

“I’ll be back,” he said, rising and departing again. Natalie only grunted at his retreating back.

There was indeed a section on magical maladies, nestled up by the ceiling. Alex found himself standing on a platform high above the rest of the library, scanning through a small collection of books with titles such as Rotstone and Surviving Glithering. He opened the latter out of curiosity, then shut it instantly upon seeing a diagram inside. He decided that if he ever contracted glithering, he would rather just die. It certainly wasn’t what Natalie was dealing with.

He glanced through a few more books, but nothing seemed to have what he was looking for. The things described in the volumes