The Hound of Rowan (9 page)

“He's a good one, eh, Miss Awolowo?”

Miss Awolowo nodded thoughtfully, her dark eyes glittering.

“We think so, Bob. Yes, indeed, we do.”

Bob plucked several empty platters off the table and ducked nimbly through the swinging doors.

After dinner, the students carried lanterns, following Ms. Richter in a single-file procession across the grounds. Max looked west to where fading bands of scarlet blended into starry blues.

They descended the steps to the beach where the dark ship bobbed on the water. A bonfire was burning brightly with many logs and tree stumps arranged around it like little stools. Ms. Richter motioned for them to take seats as she sat with her back to the sea. Her solemn voice rose above the waves and the crackling flames.

“Tonight is a night when we remember, a night when we share with the new class a bit of Rowan's history and their own. It has been centuries since our kind fled the Old Country and arrived on these shores. We landed on this very stretch of beach, borne here by the
Kestrel.
”

Ms. Richter turned to look at the barnacled, hulking vessel behind her. She began to walk among them, her feet crunching softly on the sand. Max followed her gaze as she stopped and looked up at the stars.

“It may surprise you to know that our world is still a very young world and that mankind is a very new thing upon this earth. Indeed, others were here long before us.” Ms. Richter bent down and scooped sand into both her hands. “The greatest among them came to help shape this world, to watch its beauty and possibilities unfold….”

The sand within her hands began to bubble and melt. Max gaped as it formed itself into a small, beautiful ornament of glass. He stared at it hovering above the fire like a brilliant jewel while she resumed her walk and glided behind him.

“They delighted in the waters and the woods and the creatures that came to inhabit them. Eventually, they departed, leaving the care of our planet to others. These caretakers were lesser beings and we call them the Stewards. To mankind, however, they were as gods and goddesses—great spirits of the elements that watched over the world while we were still but infants. Alas, their vigilance failed.”

Max and his classmates jumped as the hovering glass fell and shattered in the fire.

“Their vigilance failed, and others came, too—other things from dying worlds with nothing left to feed them. Quietly, they seeped and crept into the deep places of this world to gnaw at its roots. Their very presence corrupted some of the Stewards….”

Ms. Richter's eyes hardened as a log collapsed into the bonfire, shooting plumes of sparks like fireflies.

“The corrupted Stewards lost interest in mothering the world and sought mastery instead. Humans were given a simple choice: to serve or to perish. Fortunately, a few men and women refused this choice and chose instead to resist.

“The remaining Stewards let some of their power pass to those who would fight. The first to receive this spark were very great—almost Stewards themselves, as they were granted a measure of wisdom and Old Magic to stem the darkness. And you have inherited this spark, my dears. Each and every one of you sitting here with me!”

Ms. Richter stopped walking and looked from face to face around the fire, finally locking her gaze on Max as she continued.

“We do not know how this spark comes to be within you; we cannot anticipate who will be blessed with it. The only thing we do know is that it has faded over time. Our numbers and potency today are mere echoes of the past. But they have not faded entirely! At Rowan, we gather these sparks and nurture them and so continue the Great Struggle. Rowan is the last school for our kind, founded when the others were destroyed.”

She blinked as though lost in thoughts of her own. She placed her suit jacket over the shoulders of a shivering girl and sat down once again near the fire.

“Solas was the last and greatest of these schools to fall. We chose to build it in Ireland—a good choice, as the land was riddled with Old Magic and enclosed by water and mist. In Ireland, our kind made peace with the Tuatha de Danaan, the fading Stewards of that realm. They were inconstant allies but capable of powerful aid when they could be roused from their slumbers beneath the hills. It was they who laid the foundation for Solas.”

Ms. Richter raised her hands and the fire writhed and grew. Within it Max saw a great castle with many towers and gabled roofs on a mountain of rock high above the sea. He squinted to see it more clearly, but the flickering flames and smoke obscured it.

“By all accounts, Solas was a wonder! The greatest minds and Mystics of the age were tutored within its walls, veiled in secrecy from the Enemy until they were strong enough to take their proper place outside. From Solas came those who would bring the Dark Ages to an end.

“After their triumphs, mankind was left in peace. For centuries, no great evil emerged, and we began to hope that we had finally succeeded! We believed that the corrupted Stewards and their many minions and offspring had abandoned this world for another. We were wrong.”

Ms. Richter stood again and backed away from the fire. The image of Solas was lost in flames that swept higher and higher until the beach was filled with strange light and shadows.

“Astaroth came.”

Max froze at hearing the name again—Mrs. Millen had said it. She had
shrieked
it when she chased after him and his leg had gone numb.

“Astaroth was much more patient and clever than those before him. He did not declare himself, but instead remained hidden, manipulating men and countries like chess pieces across the continents. By the 1640s, our world was in great turmoil. The Ming Dynasty collapsed; the countries of Europe fought with one another; England was consumed by civil war. Brilliant minds were imprisoned and tortured for heresy….”

Ms. Richter frowned and gazed at the fountain of flames before her.

“The wisest among us, Elias Bram, perceived that these events were not random follies of man. He sensed that the world's troubles were stirred in secret by a greater mind and malevolence. Astaroth's true name and form were revealed, and our people unraveled many evil works near completion. Enraged, Astaroth bent his cunning mind on finding the source of those who opposed him.

“In the end, we were betrayed. Astaroth learned of us and our school. The great gates were thrown down, and many brave souls were lost. The Enemy paid a heavy price, however. Solas was broken, but Astaroth was broken with it. Bram came and fought with him, and the towers and halls toppled down around them. Bram fell, but not in vain—a great evil was removed from this world.”

The roaring pillar of flame began to die and wither to quiet licks of flame among the spent logs.

“The students and teachers who survived fled Astaroth's armies and sought aid from the Tuatha de Danaan. These precious few were spirited here aboard the
Kestrel,
and Rowan was raised from the countryside. It is Old Magic, children, that hides this place and makes it strange.”

Ms. Richter sat down once again and took the hands of the two nearest children, giving them a gentle smile.

“And, now, you are here.
We
are here so many years after our allies secured this haven and enabled our kind to continue. I am so pleased to have you among us. You have been called to Rowan not to fight, but to learn—to develop that noble spark within you. As the Director and a fellow human being, I hope that you will do your best to kindle that spark within you. Much depends upon it.”

Max could not tell how long they sat in silence, huddled around the flames as they finally died to embers. He struggled to imagine what his role could possibly be in such a vast history. He turned to David, but his roommate was watching the stars, his small face thoughtful and serious. After a time, Ms. Richter broke the silence.

“It is late and there is much to do tomorrow. I will lead you back to the Manse.”

The children picked up their lanterns and followed behind, making the long trek across the lawns to their new home.

                  
6                  

T
HE
L
AST
L
YMRILL

T
he clanging chorus of Old Tom's chimes brought Max from his slumber with a shout. He had been dreaming of the hound again, and it was several moments until he remembered where he was. Lying back on his bed, Max watched the constellations rotating slowly, their golden contours fainter from the tints of pink and gold peeking from the dome's bottom rim. The chimes counted seven.

Max yawned and swung his feet over the side of the bed. Stumbling downstairs, he found his fuzzy yellow towel hanging from a hook by his dresser. David was already downstairs, coughing hard.

“Hi,” said David, turning his back to slip on a T-shirt.

“Hey—I guess this is as close to morning as it gets in this room!”

David laughed and pulled on a pair of shorts.

“Are you gonna shower?” asked Max.

David turned around quickly with a nervous expression. “Oh, no. I'm okay,” he said.

Max left the room and walked barefoot down the hall carrying his towel and toiletries. Hearing his name, he turned to see Connor trotting after him.

“Morning, Max! Reckon they could have told us Old Tom would turn up the volume for the bell.”

Connor grinned and pushed through the door to Room 301. Max followed and saw him standing speechless.

The bathroom was a huge space filled with cedar lockers, slatted benches, and tropical plants. Max could hear classical music over the light babble of a marble fountain. One long wall was lined with gleaming sinks and silver faucets shaped like leaping dolphins. Across the room were three archways with brass signs indicating toilets, showers, and spa.

The door opened behind them, and Max turned to see Rolf, Jesse, Omar, and several other boys.

“Wow!” exclaimed Omar, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “Did you guys
configure
this?”

“Someone had to,” said Connor humbly, examining his nails. He slung his towel over his shoulder and headed for the spa.

Max remembered the time and hurried to the showers. Stepping inside a stall, he was puzzled at what he found. Instead of normal faucets, there were six small silver levers protruding from the marble wall. Max pulled the one on the far left, then hopped up and down as cold water sprayed from a showerhead above him. He turned it off and tried the next only to have hot water—
much
too hot—pin him into the corner until he could kick the lever upright with his toe. Wincing a bit, he pulled the third lever and let out a sigh of relief as a heavy jet of warm water burst from the showerhead.

A frantic shriek sounded from several stalls over.

“Third from the left!” Max shouted.

“Thank you!” piped a grateful voice in reply.

After tugging at the fourth lever, Max jumped back as soap bubbles ran out of a little hidden spigot and quickly filled the stall, cascading over the door before Max could slow the stream. Lever five produced an emerald dollop of shampoo that he caught in his hand. Lever six sputtered once before releasing a steady stream of warm shaving cream. Max laughed and dabbed a bit on his chin, then sculpted a white beard of foam. He peered out the shower door to look at himself just as Omar did the same. The two burst into laughter and disappeared into their respective stalls.

Standing in puddles of water, dozens of boys were brushing their teeth and chatting when they heard a loud “Ahem!” Turning, Max was startled to see a bald three-foot-tall man who looked like a leprechaun wearing an old blue suit and massaging his jowls as he surveyed them. He smelled very strongly of musky cologne, and he looked angry.

“Enjoying yourselves, are you? Fun business making a mess of Jimmy's bath, is it?”

The little man stepped toward them.

“Well, what's the matter, lads? Mum got your tongues? Old enough to shave, but too young to answer for yourselves?” He flashed a dark look at Omar and Max, who shrank against the wall. Several faucets continued running behind them.

Connor stepped forward.

“Sir, we didn't mean—”

“Silence!”

Max shot a glance at Connor, who looked just as frightened and confused as Max felt. The man took another step toward the group, his face turning crimson.

Just then, the door swung open and Nigel's head popped in.

“Hurry up, boys. Ms. Richter's already in the orientation—Jimmy! How are you? Long time.”

The little man rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you had to come just now and spoil my fun! I was going to get these tadpoles to mop this place for a month!”

Nigel chuckled and walked into the bathroom. Taking a silver dollar from his pocket, he went to the last sink, lifted the lid off a fat porcelain Buddha, and dropped the coin inside.

“Sorry, Jimmy. Next time, I'll leave them to you.”

“Oh, it's all right. Need to get hopping anyway if we're gonna spiff 'em up for the morning session. You want a little zing of the good stuff, Nigel?”

Nigel smiled politely.

“No, Jimmy. No, thank you. I'll, eh, tell the Director the boys are…just making your acquaintance.” Nigel paused before adding, “Boys, be sure to bring Jimmy a present later. Remember—it's the
thought
that counts!”

“Okay, then! See you later!” Jimmy called out. He was already bustling about, gathering armfuls of spray bottles and jars that he laid out on a folding table. Turning to the boys, he clapped his hands.

“Right, then, who are gonna be the lucky lads to get spruced up, Jimmy-fashion?” the little man inquired. “I can't get to you all, so who's it gonna be?”

“Er…I don't understand,” said Rolf, sniffing at his armpit. “We just showered.”

Jimmy looked at Rolf as though he must be daft.

“It's your first full day, isn't it?”

The boys nodded.

“And there're some lookers among the ladies, aren't there?”

The boys looked at one another and shrugged.

“Well, then, a shower's just a start! You need the old Jimmy treatment to make 'em sit up and take notice! Quick! You six into a chair.”

Jimmy snapped his fingers, and six wicker chairs zoomed across the room and arranged themselves in a row.

“Ugh, I knew we'd be the lucky ones,” moaned Connor as Jimmy showed Max to his seat. Those without a chair before them made a hasty retreat out the door.

Max squirmed while Jimmy went to work, running up and down the line and slathering their hair, cheeks, and necks with a variety of gels and sprays. Frowning with concentration, he produced a comb and parted each boy's hair carefully down the middle. The boys watched themselves in the mirror, sitting in silent horror as Jimmy clapped in sudden satisfaction.

“Well, boys! Now you're looking dandy. Good material to work with, of course, but now you've got the special Jimmy touch!”

He whistled merrily and rearranged his bottles as the six boys filed out, looking glum.

Max ran to his room and dressed quickly, rejoining the others in the hallway as Old Tom's chimes started ringing. They sprinted down the stairs and skidded to a halt in the little theater. All of their other classmates were already seated. Several girls giggled as they saw the boys' old-fashioned hairdos. Even Ms. Richter, leaning against a piano, had an amused expression on her face as she casually reached for a handkerchief.

“Be seated, gentlemen. As I was telling your classmates, today is a very important day. You will be visiting the Sanctuary for the first time. There you will be paired with a good friend for the next six years. Perhaps even longer.”

Ms. Richter frowned and waved the handkerchief before her face. A group of girls giggled as they whispered to one another. Pinching their noses, Cynthia and Lucia moved several seats farther away while David coughed into his hand and blinked at the boys. Avoiding his classmates' stares, Max reached up and patted the shellacked mass on his head. He was amazed that hair could be so smooth and brittle.

After a momentary silence, Ms. Richter breathed deeply into her handkerchief and continued. “Yes, well, after this morning's visit to the Sanctuary, you'll receive your semester schedules and meet with your class advisors, who will—oh dear Lord, it's simply
overpowering
!”

The girls shrieked with laughter. Max blushed and turned to Connor, whose neck was now bright red from scratching.

Ms. Richter rose from the piano. “Boys, I assume that Jimmy is responsible for your…grooming?”

They nodded. Cynthia's shoulders pumped like pistons as she laughed. Lucia's face was scarlet. Ms. Richter motioned for quiet.

“Jimmy has been with us for some time and he means very well, but the sad truth is that his sense of smell seems to be waning. Strike that—it is gone. In the future, I'd recommend that you politely decline his grooming services. He will undoubtedly pressure you, but you must be strong—for all our sakes. Now, let's continue this conversation outside.”

Handkerchief pressed to her nose, Ms. Richter led them through some French doors and out onto the orchard patio. Their classmates ran ahead giggling; Jimmy's victims shuffled sheepishly in tow.

Exhaling, Ms. Richter folded her handkerchief and waited for the students to gather round. Clouds were building in the sky; the wind had picked up.

“That's better! Now, as I was saying, the Sanctuary is a very special place at Rowan. There is nothing more important on this entire campus. You see, children, we champion not only our fellow man, but many other creatures and spirits that inhabit this world. Not all mystical creatures are aligned with the Enemy. Those that wish may find refuge here at Rowan—in fact, you've already met some of them. Unfortunately, many of these creatures are very young or vulnerable and require your care. Today, you will be paired with one of them.”

Ms. Richter fixed a stern eye on the students.

“This is a great honor being conferred upon you. Many of these creatures are exceedingly rare. Some may be the last of their kind. It is important that you take this responsibility very seriously; it is a critical aspect of your education. There is no greater shame than having to relinquish one's charge.”

The idea that Max would have to care for something mystical made him very nervous. He had never even owned a pet. Most of his classmates, however, looked enchanted and gossiped in excitement as Ms. Richter led them through the woods. When they reached the high, mossy wall near the stables, Ms. Richter stood by its stout wooden door set with a heavy brass ring.

“I know you are nervous, children. After all, there are so many new things! Take a deep breath and enjoy this next experience. For many students, the Sanctuary is their favorite place. Many forge lifelong bonds with their charges. Just be yourselves and trust your charge's instincts.”

The door creaked open. Beyond it, Max saw a narrow way hemmed so closely by low trees and hedges that it was more of a dark tunnel than a path. Following after the others, Max stumbled along for twenty or thirty yards when he suddenly felt a drop of rain on his nose. They had emerged into an enormous clearing whose tall grasses rippled in the wind.