Free Aldwyn's Academy by Nathan Meyer Page B

surprising.
    The banshee transformed into the shape of a simple woman in a hood. The form was still translucent but she no longer gave off the impression of cannibalistic hunger.
    “Who—” Dorian stammered.
    “Silence,” the banshee hissed. Where there should be eyes there were still only empty sockets. “I do not have long.”
    Dorian forced himself to concentrate on his Shield spell.
    A detached, almost hysterical part of his mind was impressed with his ability to handle the incantation, butmost of his thoughts were busy keeping himself from fleeing blindly in sheer terror.
    “I wish no student of Aldwyns harm,” the ghostly thing said. “But the power unleashed these past few nights has driven all the ghosts of Aldwyns from their graves and filled them with a yearning, a hunger for the spirits of the living. It will only get worse if she gets her hands on the princess!”
    “The princess?” Dorian stammered. “What princess?”
    “The girl!” the banshee cried. “The one you are following, a royal of elf blood. She has plans for that royal blood. Terrible plans. She will destroy everything—and everyone at this school—unless you stop her.”
    The creature moaned low in her throat, a mournful savage sound. “I cannot hold back my hunger, little one,” she warned. “Flee! Save the princess at all costs, but flee!”
    Again Dorian felt the creature test the bonds of his spell and he knew fear all over again.
    He spun, fell, fought his way to his feet again, and cast his eyes about. The ghost turned into a whirling, undulating cloak of dark matter around him. His eyes found an opening in the hedge maze across the clearing and he stumbled toward it.
    Behind him the Shield spell faltered and the banshee shrieked.
    Dorian pushed his feet hard against the ground andfound his speed. The ghost reared back, body opening like the hood of a cobra. Dorian reached the opening.
    The banshee, still fighting her insatiable hunger, lunged across the lawn. Dorian darted through and turned left, just escaping the ghostly strike.
    The banshee’s angry cries followed him.
    Dorian burst out of the maze, his breath coming in gasps. He looked over his shoulder at the dark hedges to make sure the ghost hadn’t followed him.
    His feet tripped up again and he went down hard.
    The jolt of his impact stunned him enough to knock the breath from his lungs. He gasped in more of the frigid air and saw the wavering stalks of a garden filled with beautiful flowers.
    He blinked in surprise.
    The plants looked as fresh and vibrant as if it were a balmy spring day instead of a bitter night in the late autumn.
    He pushed himself to his hands and knees. There was a whispering rustling and he furrowed his brow because the stalks seemed to move independently of any breeze.
    He leaned in closer, still on all fours.
    Suddenly one of the flowers lunged for him.
    Even in the low light of the cold moon, the teeth of the snapping dragon plants gleamed. They closed shut with an audible
crack
around the skin above Dorian’s cheekbone.
    He yelled out and threw himself backward. His cheek felt bruised, and hot blood seeped down his face.
    The patch of snapping dragons hissed like a nest of snakes, their stalks twisting and intertwining in a frenzy. The entire row closest to Dorian lunged until he thought they’d rip their roots free of the ground.
    “Oh this is a
beautiful
garden,” he muttered, and stood.
    Suddenly Caleb emerged from the darkness, breathing heavily. He came to a stop beside Dorian, chest heaving from his exertion. He reached out his hand and grasped Dorian by the arm.
    “There’s
something
in there,” he panted. “I could hear it as I went through the maze. I was sure it had got you.”
    “Helene’s in danger!” Dorian interrupted. “Something evil is out to get her because she’s an elf princess.” He paused. “Did you know she was a princess?”
    Caleb shook his head. “She’s a princess? I just thought she was stuck