“By the Depths!” Fitch said. “A Forgotten!”
“What the dusts is a Forgotten!” Joel said.
“A creature of Nebrask,” Fitch said. “They lead the wild chalklings. But … how did one get all the way here? And attached to Harding! I wasn’t aware that was possible. This is dire, Joel.”
“I figured that last part out,” Joel said. “How do we kill it?”
“Acid,” Fitch said, proffering the clock. “We need acid!”
“Melody, let me out the back.”
“But—”
“Do it!” Joel said.
She reached back, dismissing the line. Joel dashed down the corridor and steps to where the second bucket of acid waited. He grabbed it, then ran back up the stairs. He rounded the hallway in the other direction, passing Nalizar on the ground and coming up behind Professor Fitch.
Joel hesitated beside the professor. Nearby, the chalklings Fitch had trapped inside his defense burst out, swarming across the floor.
Joel took a deep breath, then threw the acid toward Harding’s feet. The acid washed away the Line of Forbiddance and the Circle of Warding, splashing across Harding’s shadow.
That dissolved, as if it were made of charcoal. Or chalk. Blackness melted into the acid.
The inspector screamed, then collapsed to the ground.
The chalklings froze in place.
All fell silent.
Joel waited, muscles tense, watching those chalklings. They continued to remain frozen.
We beat him. We did it!
“My, my,” Fitch said. He reached up to wipe his brow. “I actually won a duel. That’s the first time I’ve actually won! My hands barely shook.”
“You did fantastic, Professor!” Joel said.
“Well, I don’t know about that. But, well, after you children left I just couldn’t sleep. After how I treated you and all. And, hum. Here you’d been right so many times, and I sent you away without even listening. So I came out to find you. Saw the policemen at the front of the building here, and…” He hesitated. “I say,” Fitch said, pointing. “What is happening to them?”
Joel glanced at the chalklings. They were beginning to quiver even more furiously than normal. Then they began to expand.
Uh-oh, Joel thought. “Dismiss the lines boxing them in! Quick!”
The other two gave him incredulous stares.
“Trust me!” Joel said as the chalklings began to take shape. Fitch rushed over to his defense and began to release the chalklings he’d captured in small boxes. Melody gave Joel a “you’d better know what you’re doing” look, then bent down to release her lines.
The first of the chalklings popped into three dimensions, forming the shape of the young woman Joel had seen taken earlier. Fitch exclaimed in surprise, then reached out with a second piece of chalk, releasing the chalklings more quickly before the people inside of them got squished by their confines.
In minutes, Joel, Melody, and Fitch were surrounded by a group of dazed people. Some of them were students—Joel recognized Herman Libel among the group—but many were older Rithmatists in their twenties, wearing the coats of graduates. Rithmatists from the fight at Nebrask.
“William?” Melody asked, looking at one of the younger Rithmatists—a man with red hair.
“Where the dusts am I?” the young man said. “Mel? What the…?”
Melody’s brother trailed off as she grabbed him in an embrace.
At that moment, Joel heard footsteps. A breathless Nalizar appeared around the corner, holding his chalk, still dripping slightly with acid.
“I will save—” he began, then stopped short. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Joel said. “Great timing, Professor.” He sank down, exhausted, leaning back against a wall.
Melody walked over, hands on hips. “Worn out already?” she asked with a smile, her confused brother trailing along behind her.
“Tragic, eh?” Joel asked.
“Definitely.”
CHAPTER
“I suppose we owe an apology to Professor Nalizar, don’t we?” Principal York asked.
Joel shrugged. “I’d apologize to Exton first, sir.”
York chuckled, his mustache quivering. “Already done, lad. Already done.”
They stood outside Warding Hall, groups of people piling in for the Melee. York had declared the campus open again after just one day of chaos following the Scribbler’s defeat. The principal wanted to make a point that Armedius would continue undaunted; he had been certain to publicize not only the return of the missing students, but the dozens of Rithmatists thought lost at Nebrask. The media was having a frenzy with that.
“And not one, but two new Rithmatic lines discovered,” York said, hands behind his back, looking utterly pleased.
“Yeah,” Joel said, a little noncommittal.
York eyed him. “I’ve sent letters to some of my friends who lead the other academies, Joel.”
Joel turned.
“I think that, in light of events, several of them can be persuaded to honor some of their contracts with your father. Armedius certainly will. It may not be the riches your father dreamed of, lad, but I’ll see your mother’s debts paid and then some. We owe you and Professor Fitch.”
Joel grinned. “Your gratitude will include a couple of good seats to the Melee, won’t it?”
“They’re set aside for you, son. Front row.”
“Thanks!”
“I believe that we are the ones who owe you thanks,” York said. To the side, Joel noticed some men in very rich-looking suits approaching. One was Knight-Senator Calloway.
“Ah,” York said. “If you’ll excuse me, there are politicians who need to be entertained.”
“Of course, sir,” Joel said, and York withdrew.
Joel stood for a long while, watching people enter the broad doors, filling the arena inside. Exton approached with Florence. The two of them seemed to argue a lot less frequently lately.
Harding had been relieved of duty, but claimed he didn’t remember anything of what had happened. Joel was inclined to believe the man. He’d seen the change that happened in Harding. The other authorities weren’t as quick to understand. Apparently, a Forgotten had never acted in this manner before.
Joel was beginning to suspect that whatever happened to make Rithmatists in the chamber of inception could happen in Nebrask as well. That book he wasn’t supposed to have read had said the inception ceremony involved something called a Shadowblaze.
He’d seen one in the chamber of inception. He’d asked several other people who hadn’t become Rithmatists, and none had seen one of the things. He already knew that the Rithmatists, Melody included, wouldn’t speak of the experience.
Joel wasn’t certain why he had seen the Shadowblaze, or why he hadn’t become a Rithmatist for it, but his experience hinted that the entire process of inception was far more complex than most people knew.
Harding had no history at all of having Rithmatic abilities, and he could no longer produce lines. Whatever the Forgotten had done to him, it had granted the ability. Was that what a Shadowblaze did for someone during the inception?
That left an uncomfortable knowledge in Joel. There was more than one way to become a Rithmatist. One of those ways involved something dark and murderous. Could there be other ways?
It opened up hope again. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.