Casander Darkbloom and the Threads of Power

THE NEXT DAY, WAYWARD SCHOOL FELT LIKE A gaping hollow without the other students. Cas was loath to admit it, but amongst the ghostly silence of Christmas Eve, he even almost missed the Du Villaines’ cruel taunts.

Rumours about the twins’ pre-Christmas reign of terror rapidly pushed the encounter with the homeless stranger to the back of Cas’s mind. He had intended to tell the others about it, but when they arrived back at Wayward School with Mrs Crane, he was too distracted by the swarm of students spilling out of the WS gates in a blizzard of crestfallen faces and tear-stained cheeks. Whilst Maxwell Snout had allegedly run around handing out ice wedgies like they were going out of fashion, Aubria had been under strict orders from the Du Villaines to ruin every Christmas gift exchange in sight.

They pitched up just in time to see the famous Mr and Mrs Du Villaine pick up their vile sprogs in a grand, wheelless wyverkey-drawn carriage. The Airscaper Elementies looked like part-wyvern, part-monkey-donkey-turkey things. They had slimy, scaly grey skin and wings which were attached to a chimp-like body, but their feet were sharp hooves and fleshy bits of skin dangled from their faces like wattles.

The carriage had soared high into the air and swooshed away to the tune of the Du Villaines singing “Jingle bells, Darkbloom smells.” But Cas would’ve paid good doobries to hear the twins’ caterwauling shatter the empty eeriness now.

Even if only so he could yell at them for being such show-offs; Others didn’t need vehicles when they could waygate from place to place in the Balance Lands. The Du Villaines simply rode about in a carriage to prove they could.

Fenix, like the rest of their peers, had gone home for the holidays. So had most of the staff – except Dr Bane. Just like Mrs Crane had predicted, Dr Bane insisted he had to stay behind for work, leaving her to face their family alone. However, Cas suspected this was only because Warrior had declined Mrs Crane’s invitation for her and Cas to join the Bane family gathering too, and they couldn’t very well be left at Wayward School alone.

“Oh, no,” said Warrior, when Cas asked about it. “Dr Bane won’t be here tomorrow. He always goes gallivanting off.”

They were sitting by the frozen lake, skimming pebbles across the glittery, glacial surface. Every now and then, a creature that looked like a hairy, chubby bay pony crashed through the ice, shaking its seaweedy mane and whipping its pinwheel-like tail. It was Puggle the Nuggle, a Wavebreaker Elementie who lived in the boating lake. He was renowned (and avoided) for chasing unsuspecting students into the watery depths as they wandered past the lake between classes. Fresh-faced Wayones were Puggle’s favourite. He liked to nip at their buttocks, herding them into the shallows until they fell in the water, spluttering. But Puggle the Nuggle was harmless really; once he’d got a few good screams out of someone, he always left them alone. Seeing as neither Cas nor Warrior fancied taking a dip in the freezing water today, though, they were tossing the cheeky pony stale bread crusts whenever he appeared.

Warrior sighed. “It’s always the same. He goes after the Master of All. Even the Grand Council have plans at Christmas, so there’s nobody to stop him. Bane can track the Master as closely as he likes.”

Warrior chuckled darkly. “Because, trust me, you don’t want to go to a Bane family Christmas. It always ends in a duel with turkey legs at dawn.”

“No way. You’re just saying that because you haven’t met the Banes. There’s nutty Great-Uncle James, who insists every member of the Grand Council is really a chicken–lizard hybrid in disguise. Then there’s Great-Great-Granny Megs, who never fails to drink herself into a sherry stupor by two o’clock. Oh yes, and let’s not forget Cousin Radford, who’s so rude about those namby-pamby, wishy-washy Earthshapers that you can’t take him anywhere in public without getting dirty looks. Believe it or not, Mrs Crane is one of the sensible ones.”

“Well, she is if you don’t count the fact that she always starts a food fight over the cranberry sauce.”

Cas stifled a snort. “OK, fine. Maybe Dr Bane won’t stick around this year, but maybe he will. I’m the Foretold. He wouldn’t leave me at Wayward unprotected, would he? Plus, you’re his adopted daughter.”

“Adopted.” Warrior rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly why he won’t be here.”

She paused, considering what to say next. “I think…” Warrior began, before her words quietened to nothing. She watched Puggle the Nuggle trotting across the lake’s icy surface, tossing his head and demanding more bread crusts, before she pressed on. “I think Dr Bane is my father. My real father.”

“No, I know he is. And he knows that I know too.” She turned to face Cas fully. “Of all the places, in all the Balance Lands, my mother dumped me here. On Wayward School’s doorstep. With a note specifically addressed to Dr Bane.”

Warrior shook her head. “Bane doesn’t have friends. He has family, students, people he answers to and people he’s responsible for. That’s it. His life’s mission is to find and stop the Master of All. Nothing else matters. So why would he, a man as important and busy as he is, take in me, an abandoned baby? An Abnormie, of all things. Why didn’t he just ship me off to Wayling Orphanage? Or leave me to freeze to death in the cold? Why didn’t he send me to live with one of his relatives, if he really felt sorry for me? Great-Great-Granny Megs has about a billion cats. I’m sure Bane could’ve dressed me up in a furry jacket and collar and I’d have fitted right in.”

“Bane doesn’t hang around at Christmas because he shoots off to track down the Master of All,” Warrior continued. “But he also doesn’t hang around because there’s a chance I might start asking questions.”

Warrior nodded. Like she so often did to him, it felt like Cas had read her mind.

It was at times like these that Cas felt as though they were the same person. He wondered if it was because he had spent so much time with Warrior since he came to the Balance Lands. They had been stuck together like glue from day one. Even in his first Thread Theory 101 class or when he had chased after the sand snoot, it had turned out Warrior had been keeping an eye on him through a crack in the wall from the room next door or was merely steps behind.

“You don’t need Bane,” said Cas. “Or any of his whackadoodle family. You’ve got me.”

For the first time he could remember, Cas felt it. That feeling he had been dying to feel ever since he had seen Paws at the Elementie Emporium.

Christmas morning broke not with the chiming of bells or tinkling of carols, but with the sound of “Get up! Get up, you lazy oaf!” echoing across the Attic.

Cas groaned and shielded his eyes against the bright sunlight streaming in through the window, gilding the creaky floorboards. He pulled the bed covers over his head, only to have them roughly ripped away.

“Warrrrior,” Cas drawled, burying his head under his pillow. “I thought we were having a lie-in. You said that was your Christmas present to me.”

“Warrior Bane!” a voice that was very much not Warrior’s scolded. “How dare you. If I’ve told you off once, I’ve told you off a hundred times for fobbing people off with rubbish Christmas presents. You’ve at least got to give them something with a bow!”

Cas’s eyes flew open. He yanked the pillow off his head and saw that it wasn’t Warrior who had shaken him awake. Another culprit with wild, untameable hair, giant jam-jar spectacles, and a tweed poncho decorated with rainbow-coloured baubles sat at the end of his bed.

“Oh good, you’re up,” said Mrs Crane sweetly. She tapped the top of Cas’s head, as if to knock the last dregs of slumber out of him, then shuffled over to Warrior in her fuzzy tweed slippers to wake her up too.

Even in her dozy state, Warrior put up a good fight. She clung on to the bed’s headboard for dear life as Mrs Crane struggled to pry her free. Even Hobdogglin joined in, appearing out of nowhere to yip-yap at Mrs Crane’s heels in protest. But eventually Mrs Crane won. She heaved Warrior to her feet and tugged two hideous tweed knitted jumpers over Cas and Warrior’s heads. Warrior crossed her arms and scowled at Mrs Crane over the top of the big green tweed Christmas tree that adorned her jumper. It wouldn’t have looked so bad, except the Christmas tree had a face. And the face had pointed eyes made from a bright red herringbone, making it look devilishly sinister.

Meanwhile, Cas wore a jumper sporting a tweed cat, which resembled a grumpy version of Mogget, pouting under a party hat.

“Perfect,” she breathed, shoving a reindeer-shaped slab of white chocolate into each of their mouths to complete the look.

“Gree twaught twoo were gwoing home fur dee holidways,” said Warrior through her mouthful, white chocolatey goo dribbling down her chin.

“Change of plan,” said Mrs Crane, humming merrily as she made their beds. “I saw Dr Bane packing his trunk on my way out yesterday. I’m not a monster. I couldn’t just leave you both here over winter break, especially on Cas’s first Christmas with us, no matter how hard I tried.”

“You should hab twied harder.” Warrior glanced longingly at her tightly tucked-in bed.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full, Warrior,” said Mrs Crane disapprovingly. “It’s very unladylike. Or at least, if you do, pack your gob full so it looks impressive.”

Warrior swallowed her chocolate with a gulp. “Dr Bane’s not gone,” she insisted, pointing out of the window. Glancing outside, Cas saw a solitary, Dr Bane-shaped figure sitting in the courtyard, riffling through papers and enjoying the morning sunshine with a cup of tea.

Mrs Crane waggled her finger at Warrior. “I’m not a fool either, missus. I know my brother will have run off somewhere in the next hour.”

For this reason, they had already planned out their entire gloriously adult-free day together:

7 o’clock: Realize it’s too early to be awake and go back to sleep

12 o’clock: Have a late brunch of biscuits from Headmaster Higgles’s special secret stash, followed by hot chocolates and as many mouldy toffees as they could pilfer from Miss Grimbly’s desk

1 o’clock: Stair banister slide racing

2 o’clock: Ice skating on the boating lake

3 o’clock: Snow-angel-making and whatsit-baiting above the Nurse’s Quarters

4 o’clock: Christmas dinner sandwiches from any leftovers they could find (likely more biscuits and sweets)

6 o’clock–Midnight: Scary Christmas stories, Kindlin’ Koola and crashing into bed thoroughly exhausted, ready for another lie-in the next day

“Besides,” Mrs Crane continued, “fat lot of good Dr Bane would be if he stayed. Claudius wouldn’t know Christmas spirit if it smacked him in the face with a pair of antlers.”

“But what about your family?” said Cas guiltily. “We can’t ruin your fun.”

“Yes, and you can’t ruin ours,” said Warrior. “We were going to put pine needles in Madame Aster’s seat cushion and everything.”

Mrs Crane swept over and enveloped them both in a rib-shattering squeeze. “We’re family. And families stick together. Plus, if you’re going to do that, someone needs to be around to teach you that whoopee cushions are much funnier than pine needles.”

Cas noticed she didn’t struggle too hard, though. Deep down, she seemed to be enjoying it.

“Right.” Mrs Crane clapped her hands, releasing them. “Seeing as you layabouts have slept in until almost lunchtime, we may as well spend the rest of the day with full bellies. How does Christmas dinner in one hour sound?”

Cas’s stomach answered for them. Food was never a bad idea as far as he was concerned.

Enthusiastically, Cas began pulling on his jeans as Warrior flopped dramatically back onto her bed. Mrs Crane disappeared down the spiral staircase, humming all the way to the bottom, where she broke out into a very out-of-tune Christmas song.

“Well, I suppose a traditional Wayward Christmas isn’t bad for your first. Most of our festivities these days come from the Normie world, so I’m sure it won’t be that different to one you’ve had before, even if you could remember it.”

Warrior’s face soured. She was clearly thinking about the same thing. “Not exactly. Years ago, we used to celebrate something called Wynterfest, but that was mainly about going outside in the snow naked and dancing around trees or something. A couple of Earthshaper families still do it. But almost everyone in the Balance Lands celebrates Christmas now. We’ve taken on most of the Normie traditions but put our own spin on them. Wayward, in particular, has its own special way of doing things.”

“Speaking of.” Warrior leant forward and dug around under her bed. “Here you go.” She tossed Cas a single, crisp envelope. “Happy Waywardmas!”

Cas opened his mouth to thank her, but Warrior gave him a very odd, wide-eyed look.

“Oh, right. Yeah.” Cas rummaged around blindly in the trunk at the end of his bed. “Here’s yours. Happy Waywardmas too!”

“What’s this?” she demanded, pinching the present and holding it out like a smelly sock. She tilted her head from side to side, examining it with a mixture of bamboozlement and repulsion.

Despite how hard he tried to squash the feeling, Cas immediately felt wrongfooted. Looking down at the envelope in his lap, he realized their gifts couldn’t have been more different. Whereas Warrior’s present to him was plain, small and flimsy, barely big enough to contain a scrap of paper, Cas’s present to her was hefty and bulky, trussed up in old newspaper and gold tinsel. If anything, he should’ve been the one who was unimpressed.

“I know we exchanged presents with Paws and Fenix like this before they left,” elaborated Warrior. “But this isn’t traditionally how you’re supposed to hand someone their present at Waywardmas, Cas.”

Before they had both returned home, Paws had given Cas a scratchy, hand-crocheted bobble hat and Fenix had gifted him a light-up Christmas ornament of Wayward School, soldered using his own flaming hands. Paws and Fenix had similarly swapped gifts with each other. She had bought him a pair of leather fireproof gloves and he had redesigned the pulley system that Paws used to get up and down the stairs from the Attic. Now, Paws was able to whizz over the spiral steps twice as fast as before, something she had demonstrated countless times before a motion-sick Mogget had spewed up a hairball into her lap.

Warrior sighed. “No. Didn’t you hear me? We might borrow our Christmas traditions from the Normie world, but they all have a Balance Lands twist. People in the Normie world give each other Christmas gifts, so naturally, in the Balance Lands we hide them.”

Cas pitched forward eagerly, all thoughts of embarrassment and small presents gone. “Like a scavenger hunt?”

Warrior groaned as if to say, Obviously. “This” – she shook the box-shaped present Cas had given her – “takes all the fun out of…”

Warrior’s words dwindled and her eyes grew wide as she figured out what was bumping about inside. She dropped the present onto her lap and ripped off the paper ferociously, until only a frenzied mound of shredded confetti remained at her feet.

“It’s wonderful!” she gasped, clutching the unwrapped object to her chest.

Cas beamed. He had bought her the most expensive set of watercolours and drawing pencils from Ondine’s that gubbins and doobries could buy. They went perfectly with the brand-new sketchbooks Paws had given her and the bedside firefly lantern Fenix had made, so that Warrior could draw late into the night.

“Your turn,” she said. Warrior’s face shone almost as brightly as the joyful yellow tips of her hair.

Dear Cas,

Welcome to your first Wayward Christmas! Seeing as you haven’t done this before (or not that your terrible memory can recall), I thought I’d keep the clues easy for you this year. We’ve got so much planned that I don’t want your pea brain poking around Wayward School looking for your present for too long or we might miss out on all the fun.

Hope you enjoy this Waywardmas scavenger hunt!

Warrior

In order to find your Waywardmas gift,

Search low and high, but do be swift.

For clue two, seek the lady who never moans,

Amongst the rows of spines, but none with bones.

“Three, so you’d better get a move on. If you’re not done by the time we’re supposed to be booby-trapping Madame Aster’s classroom, I’m going to dunk you in the boating lake and leave you to the mercy of Puggle the Nuggle.”

Cas re-read the clue. Seek the lady who never moans. Amongst rows of spines, but none with bones. Who was Warrior talking about? Who never moaned? And what kind of spines didn’t have bones?

Cas thought long and hard. Spines … bones… The only place that came to mind was…

Cas supposed he should have known. Of course Warrior wouldn’t stow it there, given her rather unpleasant history with the place.

What else in Wayward School came in rows, except rows of tombs … classrooms … windows and doors … bookcases…

Without another word, Cas and Warrior darted down the spiral staircase. He supposed they could have taken the trap-door slide, but when they barrelled out into the corridor, Cas was glad they hadn’t.

The Waywardmas scavenger hunt wasn’t the only topsy-turvy thing about Christmas in the Balance Lands. In the same way that the Normies seemed to decorate their Christmas trees with everything, Mrs Crane had decorated everything at Wayward School with Christmas trees. Ouch-ing and ooh-ing, Cas and Warrior picked their way barefoot across the second-floor corridor, which was strewn with prickly holly leaves and conifer branches. Bundles of mistletoe hung from every wall, lantern and ceiling, entangled with the normal climbing ivy and dangling bunches of poinsettias.

When they reached the library, Cas burst through the doors and sprinted over to where another envelope was waiting on Mrs Crane’s desk:

With swathes of green,

And bark like a dog,

You’ll find clue three

Where glade sleeps like a log.

He turned the paper over. There was nothing on the back this time. He ran the clue over repeatedly in his brain. Swathes of green … bark like a dog … glade, glade…

Still half-dressed and holly-pricked, Cas and Warrior raced up to the treetop corridor in the far wing of the school, which led down to Professor Everglade’s cabin in the forest. As they did so, they hurtled past another peculiarity of Christmas at Wayward: rows of brightly patterned, voluminous underwear hung from every doorknob, stuffed full of sweets.

Picking their way carefully along the icy canopy corridor at a snail’s pace, they emerged, shivering, into the woods. Propped up on the porch of Everglade’s cabin was a soggy envelope dusted in snow:

A place of learning and getting things done,

Of glowing objects but not much fun.

In the clash of teacher and death-bringer air,

You’ll find your present hidden here.

It took Cas less than a second to solve this final clue. Teacher and death-bringer. Glowing objects.

Warrior lazily half shrugged. “I thought I’d be nice to you. It is Christmas Day, after all.”

Heart thrumming, Cas took off like a bullet back up the hill towards the school, stumbling slightly as his funny leg was jolted into action. Still barefoot, he skidded and slipped up the stairs leading to Dr Bane’s office. A present with a large, sparkly ribbon sat proudly outside the door, which Cas and Warrior were surprised to find ajar.

“Bane must have forgotten to lock up,” said Cas, nudging the door open with the tip of his toe.

Warrior flushed, the ends of her hair turning a faint shade of petal pink. “Just like the ones you were wearing the day I found you outside the curiosity shop.”

Once again, it was like Warrior knew Cas better than he knew himself. Cas dropped to the floor and squeezed his feet into the trainers. He loved them. Ever since he had been forced to wear the standard-issue black leather shoes that were part of Wayward School’s uniform, he’d been longing for a pair like these. Cas could never understand why someone would ever want to wear two shoes that were the same.

Cas wiggled his new trainers appreciatively. One was off-white and patterned with Christmas puddings, the other periwinkle blue with silver crows.

“Funny,” Warrior muttered, her face falling as her gaze strayed to Dr Bane’s open door. “For a moment, I thought he might’ve stayed.”

“Let’s go,” she exhaled, spinning on her heel to trudge back down to the dining hall. “Mrs Crane will have dinner ready soon.”

“Hang on,” he said, catching Warrior’s elbow. “You’ve got me such an awesome present and all I got you was that lousy art set. Come on, if Dr Bane isn’t going to be here, the least I can do is help you get some answers. Don’t you want to know where he might’ve gone?”

Warrior Bane was attracted to mischief like a magpie to tinfoil. He knew she would consider it a personal insult if hijinks and hooliganism were afoot and she wasn’t somehow involved.