The School for Good and Evil: Return of the School Masters (fanfic)

Chapter 25

Maverick sat on the floor beside his brother, trying to stop him from shaking. He'd been reading the stories of Evil's victories and marveling at the intricate plans and stupidity of royalty when Rafal warned him that Malcolm was watching. Suddenly, his pacifist brother had an ominous stare and a stone candlestick in his hand. His voice must have snapped his twin out of it because he folded quickly. Now Maverick was forced to be the caring twin as Malcolm shook and sniffled.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "He was in my head."

Maverick scoffed, "They're always in our heads." Given his brother's pout, he checked his tone. "You can't hurt a fly. I knew we'd be fine."

"But if we wait any longer, it could get worse. I could try smothering you in your sleep or you..." Malcolm stopped himself. Maverick knew he could do more damage than Malcolm, but he didn't think his own brother would fear him.

That's why you should be rid of him. He could try again, or get an army to -

Shut up, Rafal. Maverick waited for the School Master to back talk him, but he thought better of it.

He directed his attention to his twin. "We've got one more spell to finish the sword. After that, we can see how to get rid of them."

Malcolm's blue eyes got a little brighter. "We need to work fast."

"How about tonight?"

He nodded slowly, pushing himself off the floor. The weight on his mind was evident in his walk. They needed to get their heads back before Maverick was guilt-tripped into staying awake with him. Or worse.

***

The twins stepped into the forge, moonlight coming through the ceiling and reflecting off the large blade. Machiara. The shimmering steel was sharpened on both sides, a slight red glow revealing the magic fused into it. The hilt had a simple leather hold and bronze attachment that held the handle and blade together. While unassuming in appearance, there was a reverence in the room just by looking upon it.

Malcolm cowered, finding a corner near the fire. His eyes never left the blade. Maverick circled the sword. So much work, so much time. It all came down to this moment. One last spell and the sword was complete. One last spell and they would be rid of the past.

The brothers looked to one another. Malcolm pulled his cloak tighter around him. Maverick rolled his eyes. "Come on. We're almost done."

"What about August?"

"He's got the talent show tomorrow night and a ball after that. We can do this without him. Are you with me?" Maverick extended his hand, palm up. Supposedly a friendlier gesture, though his scowl counteracted whatever pleasantness he wanted to portray.

Malcolm didn't mind, taking his hand. They stood shoulder to shoulder as Maverick opened the blood magic book he'd tucked into his cloak. The magic prevention spell, to stop self-healing.

Malcolm took a breath, got the potion from the shelf, and returned to his brother's side. He slowly poured the murky orange liquid over the blade as Maverick began the spell.

As they got stronger with magic, words became obsolete. Aurum described chants as a conduit, another channel magic had to cross. School Masters had a more direct link to magic, could "feel out" the spell they wanted. Words and chants were a formality; they couldn't hear their own spells.

Malcolm mimicked the murmur, his senses drawn to the sword. Every fine edge. Every flaw in the bronze. His energy drained, the potion glowing along the blade. His vision blurred with every mumble.

Suddenly, light. Malcolm and Maverick sucked in a breath, eyes wide and senses taking in the cold night air, firelight, and the red-gray rock around them. The spell was done.

Standing on either side of the sword, the twins glanced between it and each other. Maverick spoke first. "What now?"

Malcolm grabbed the hilt and lifted the blade. Maverick leaned back as his brother tested the weight. Surprisingly light despite its size. Must be the magic. Malcolm carefully extended the hilt to his brother. Maverick took it with more certainty. Of the two, he'd been around weapons more. Though there's a big difference between a hunting knife and a magic sword.

Nothing came to them as the blade glittered in the firelight. Maverick had one idea, but it wasn't favorable. Given the expression on Malcolm's face, he had the same thought. Oh the joys of a twin curse.

"Rafal, what now?"

"Rhian, any ideas?"

The previous School Masters appeared in the entrance of the forge. Both awestruck. They composed themselves, clearing their throats and dusting their shirts. Before they could speak, Maverick added, "One word about fighting to the death and you're uninvited."

Rhian slumped his shoulders and rolled his eyes. "I'm Good. I could never condone a suicide sword fight. However, death in combat is perfectly-"Malcolm glared at the apparition. "Not on the table. Understood."

Rafal rubbed his chin, eyes watching the reflection of the blade. "Great craftsmanship. About the only thing I can suggest is fighting us in your minds with it." Maverick swung the blade at the ghosts. Rhian cowered, but nothing else happened. "I said in your heads. We're manifestations, not in your realm. To take a weapon and make it work on a different plane of existence is an entirely different kind of magic. One that might not exist."

"So we built this thing for nothing!" Maverick waved the sword at Rafal, frustrated.

Malcolm headed out of the forge. "Maybe Bartholomew has ideas. Come on." He walked around the corner.

Maverick stepped out, sword in hand. Rafal didn't appear beside him. The air stilled. Darkness caved in. He headed back to the forge, but was pulled away.

Don't even think about. You're not strong enough to do what must be done. Now it's my turn.

Maverick tried to scream, to warn his brother. But Rafal. He grew stronger. Overcoming his mind with hate. Malice. Cruelty.

"Mav, what's taking you?" Malcolm came around the corner. His pursuit slowed to a stand still, eyes widening at the blade. "Maverick."

He had to stop this. Malcolm didn't have a chance. With what little control he had, Maverick envisioned the one person who could help. The one who always solved their problems. He vanished.