Spycraft Academy by B. Miles (sites to read books for free .txt) 📗

Sam said to nobody in particular. “Can one of you check on Apelles? I lost him when I went into the forest.”

“On it,” Drina said. She walked off, delving into the woods, calling Apelles’ name.

“Well, June,” Sam said, glancing down at her scowling face, “we might be here for a bit. Go ahead and get comfortable.”

28

Drina came back with a dazed-looking Apelles. The man had his arm slung across her shoulders and was leaning heavily on her. She apparently found him passed out. The voices of the other instructors and older students echoed through the forest, calling out their names. Sam didn’t realize how far they ran into the wilderness—the search party had looked for them for half an hour before Sam ever heard their voices.

Sam called to them for help, something he might have never done before coming here. When his call was immediately answered, he smiled to himself. It was a relief to be able to trust others, to be able to rely on them to help him when he needed it. He wasn’t alone anymore, as Apelles liked to remind him, and he was right.

A group of people materialized from the forest, their hands eagerly reaching to take away Sam’s burden. He was helped to his feet, slapped on the back, and thanked for his efforts. If he was less drained of energy, he might have smiled, but that darkness spell really took a toll on him. When he walked back to the campus, he dragged his feet. At least he wasn’t Apelles, who was only half-conscious and was carried like a bride.

Sam walked amongst the small crowd across the valley, under the Academy archway, and into the main quad. Mode was there, standing in front of the wide-open front doors, the torchlight glinting off his white hair.

The group that found Sam and his crew wordlessly dispersed. Mode didn’t acknowledge them as they passed him by, trailing into the school. He was, however, staring at Sam.

Right. He probably had some explaining to do.

Sam stopped in front of his headmaster, holding the roster tome out to the older man. When Mode took it, Sam folded his arms behind his back and squared his shoulders in the Varin resting stance.

Mode didn't say anything at first, and neither did Sam. He didn't know how to begin.

Suddenly, the frigid headmaster put a gentle hand on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam almost flinched and looked up at the headmaster, a growing sense of confusion and unease worming into his nerves. Mode didn’t strike him as the sort of man who freely touched people without a very good reason.

“You did well, Sam,” Mode said. He patted Sam’s shoulder then took his hand away.

He was taken aback that the headmaster knew his name at all, much less praised him. “Thank you, sir,” Sam said.

Mode’s eyes shifted to Sam’s shoulder and he cocked an eyebrow. Sam sensed somebody standing close behind him. Three somebodies.

“Headmaster Mode,” Mattie said. “May we take Sam to the infirmary?”

Mode nodded and stepped aside. Mattie grabbed his hand and led him past the headmaster. Sam let himself be led like an old animal, but before he got into the school proper, Mode called out to him.

“After you’re cleared with Miss Cher, I want you to sleep. Those bags under your eyes are horrendous, and you’re useless to me when you function at half capacity. After you sleep, report to my office.”

“Yes sir,” Sam muttered.

“We’ll make sure he gets rest,” Rosin chirped.

Mode studied Sam for a moment, his red eyes taking him in like he was studying a formula. Finally, he nodded, and Mattie tugged Sam into the dark, protective arms of the castle.

“It was Franklin, sir,” Apelles said in a flat monotone.

It had been a day since the incident, and Sam felt refreshed and alert after sixteen hours of sleep.

“Hm. Interesting,” Mode said. “Go on.”

“There isn't much to tell on my end,” Apelles said. “When Sam and I arrived at the administrative building, I saw two figures run into the woods. Sam took off after one, and I followed the other. The one I followed just so happened to be Franklin. He stopped running a few minutes into the chase and I suppose he thought that attacking me was the best course of action.”

“Hm. I suppose it was, given that he used his sleep talent on you and got away.”

“He's much quicker than I remembered,” Apelles said.

“That tends to happen when one when one's life is at stake, I suppose,” Mode said. The headmaster was leaning back in his huge chair, his pet vessar sitting on the floor with its massive black head resting in Mode’s lap. Its eyes were half closed, and it wouldn’t stop staring at Sam, who was ordered to sit silently on the couch and observe.

Apelles’ neutral face transformed into something slightly sheepish, yet still quite emotionless in Sam’s opinion. “Yes sir, that it does.”

“We can be grateful that neither he nor the girl escaped with anything important,” Mode said, his eyes flicking to Sam. “Samson, are you aware of what those thieves were trying to steal?”

Sam glanced at Apelles, who nodded at him and said, “You can tell him.”

“Yes sir,” Sam said. “I don’t know why, but it’s called the Creation Codex.”

Mode leaned back in his chair and stroked the smooth black scales atop the vessar’s head. “Not the Codex, no. I'm afraid that would be quite difficult for two people to steal.”

The vessar hissed. It was a deep, hungry sound.

“Do you know what the Codex does, Sam?”

“No sir.” But I wish somebody would tell me.

Mode’s eyes stayed locked on Sam as he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a thin book. He tossed it on his desk.

“Time to start educating yourself on the subject,” Mode said.

Sam shifted just enough to lean over and grab the small book. The cover was old and worn. There was no title or author.

“The Codex, thankfully, is the most heavily guarded item in the entire country,” Mode said.

The