The Unbearable Heaviness of Remembering Read online

  Praise for The Books of Unexpected Enlightenment

  “The action is non-stop, with child’s play, schoolwork, and danger all churned together. Lamplighter introduces many imaginative elements in her world that will delight….”

  —VOYA

  “The British boarding school mystery meets the best imagined of fantasies at breakneck speed and with fully realized characters.”

  —Sarah A. Hoyt, author of Darkship Thieves

  “L. Jagi Lamplighter, a fantastic new voice and a fabulous new world in the YA market! Rachel Griffin is a hero who never gives up! I cheered her all the way!”

  —Faith Hunter, author of the Skinwalker series

  “The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin, a plucky band of children join forces to fight evil, despite the best efforts of incompetent adults, at a school for wizards. YA fiction really doesn’t get better than that.”

  —Jonathan Moeller, author of The Ghosts series

  “Rachel Griffin is curious, eager and smart, and ready to begin her new life at Roanoke Academy for the Sorcerous Arts, but she didn’t expect to be faced with a mystery as soon as she got there. Fortunately she’s up to the task. Take all the best of the classic girl detective, throw in a good dose of magic and surround it all with entertaining, likeable friends and an intriguing conundrum, and you’ll have The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin, a thrilling adventure tailor-made for the folks who’ve been missing Harry Potter. Exciting, fantastical events draw readers into Rachel’s world and solid storytelling keeps them there.”

  —Misty Massey, author of Mad Kestrel

  Published by Wisecraft Publishing

  A publishing company of the Wise

  Copyright © 2020 L. Jagi Lamplighter

  All rights reserved. No part of the content of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system or copied by any technology yet to be developed without the prior written permission of the author. You may not circulate this book in any format.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental or an Act of God.

  ISBN: 978-1-922376-14-5 (hardcover), 978-1-922376-13-8 (paperback)

  ASIN: B086GKM896 (e-book)

  First edition

  Revision 1.0.1 2020-04-03

  Edited by Jim Frenkel

  Cover art by Dan Lawlis

  https://danlawlis.wordpress.com

  Interior illustrations by John C. Wright

  Typeset by Joel C. Salomon

  Cover design by Danielle McPhail

  Sidhe na Daire Multimedia

  http://sidhenadaire.com

  Chapter headings are set in RM Ginger © 2009 Ray Meadows, licensed under CC BY-ND 3.0.

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Chapter One: Redcaps in the Morning, Sorcerer’s Warning

  Chapter Two: Wishing Thrice Upon A Star

  Chapter Three: Have Prince, Will Travel

  Chapter Four: Snowdolls

  Chapter Five: What Are Your Intentions?

  Chapter Six: The Secret of the Fairies

  Chapter Seven: The Die of Boredom Debate Club

  Chapter Eight: She Knows About the Exclamation Point!

  Chapter Nine: The Snow-Fairies Incident

  Chapter Ten: Grounded

  Chapter Eleven: The Horse Come from the Marsh

  Chapter Twelve: The Lark, the Lily, and the Thorn

  Chapter Thirteen: The Difficulty with Forgiving

  Chapter Fourteen: Fire and Salmon

  Chapter Fifteen: Memories of Battles Lost

  Chapter Sixteen: The Force of Lightning

  Chapter Seventeen: Windswept!

  Chapter Eighteen: Feasting and Forgotten Family

  Chapter Nineteen: Mortalized in Snow

  Chapter Twenty: Sorrow in Steam

  Chapter Twenty-One: The Door and the Mask

  Chapter Twenty-Two: The Year of the Dragon Ball

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Waltzing with Wulfgang

  Chapter Twenty-Four: The Destiny of Amber Griffin

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Dancing with Dread

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Tarnished Knights and Crazy Kings

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Other Princess of Magical Australia

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Dangerous Vows of Silence

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: No Lantern for the Living

  Chapter Thirty: The Hour of the Angels

  Chapter Thirty-One: One Step Forward, Four Steps Back

  Chapter Thirty-Two: Watch Griffin, Wait For My Word

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Interlude at the Loo

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Griffin Family Reunion

  Chapter Thirty-Sive: One Last Hope

  Chapter Thirty-Six: The Duchess of Devon’s Secret Sorrow

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: In Defense of Dread

  Chapter Thirty-Eight: A Promise to Kill

  Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Roar of the Lion

  Chapter Forty: The Last Wish

  Epilogue: Dances with Ravens

  Glossary

  Acknowledgements

  About the Authors

  Other books by L. Jagi Lamplighter

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to:

  St. John’s College

  in Annapolis and Santa Fe,

  the real Roanoke Academy.

  Because there still is at least one place left

  for those who want an education

  instead of a degree.

  Once there was a world

  that seemed at first glance much like other worlds

  you may have lived in or read about,

  but it wasn’t….

  Chapter One:

  Redcaps in the Morning,

  Sorcerer’s Warning

  Rachel Griffin was awakened by a tapping on the window of her fourth-floor dorm room. Climbing out of bed, she padded across the cold floor and peered through the open curtains. Outside, above the leafless branches, a faint paleness was visible in the eastern sky.

  Something huge and black shot toward her window. Rachel stumbled backward, nearly screaming. The dark shape tapped against the glass. In the light of the few will-o’-the-wisps that had drifted out of their sconce-like nighthoods at each corner of the ceiling, Rachel could make out an enormous raven and the gleam of blood-red eyes.

  She clapped her hand over her mouth until she had regained her composure.

  “Jariel. You nearly scared the living daylights out of me!” she whispered in her English accent. With a soft giggle, she gestured toward the wayward will-o’-the-wisps. “See, a few of my daylights escaped!”

  The Guardian of the World, in his guise as a great black bird, passed soundlessly through the glass of the closed window and landed on Nastasia’s vanity. In one talon, it held a crystal vial.

  “Rachel Griffin, your blood-brother needs you. He is west of here but not far.”

  Rachel rubbed her sleepy eyes. When she glanced up again, she was alone, standing with her bare feet on the cold floor. Had the Raven truly come or had that been a dream? On the vanity lay a crystal vial that had not been there before, a familiar vial with a long white sticker on one side. On the label, in Sigfried’s spidery hand, were the words: Chameleon Elixir.

  Losing no time, Rachel stepped into her boots, grabbed her red duffle coat and white snowman hat from her wardrobe, and retrieved Vroomie, her steeplechaser-model bristleless broom, from under her bed. She slipped on her pouch that was larger on the inside and put into it her wand, a sl
ender length of silver that had once belonged to her grandmother. She also donned the aquamarine pendant her brother Peter had given her for Yule, which he claimed would protect her from paralysis hexes, and put her athame in her coat pocket. Bristleless in hand, Rachel downed the elixir the Raven had left for her, shivering at the slight lizardy aftertaste of chameleon.

  Rachel took a deep breath. Luckily, even though Roanoke Academy for the Sorcerous Arts was technically on lockdown, the school was not allowed to keep the building completely sealed by enchantment for more than an hour, due to possible fire hazard, so she would be able to slip out. Opening the window as quietly as she could, she climbed onto her steeplechaser and shot out into the pre-dawn morning.

  • • •

  The temperature had dropped during the night. Snow was falling, and the cold February air felt bracing against her sleepy face. She laughed with joy. Flying made her so happy, especially after having been trapped inside for over twenty-four hours. It drove off all her dark thoughts.

  She flew through the air on her steeplechaser, an elegant flying device of polished walnut with handles of wrought iron and shiny brass. Where a normal broom might have bristles spread a tail fan of alternating slats of mahogany and cherry wood. Currently, though, she could not see it. Thanks to the special herbs that her Elf had given Sigfried before she died—which he had put into the chameleon elixir—even her bristleless was invisible.

  No one could see her and Vroomie as they flew.

  It was Thursday, the eighth of February. The students had been locked inside since Tuesday evening. During a skating party, three unknown figures with black pillowcases over their heads had opened the wards of the school. This had allowed the wild fey, who normally lived elsewhere on Roanoke Island, onto school property. Since then, the campus had been deemed too dangerous for students. Until the proctors could reestablish proper wards, a lockdown had been declared. Classes had been canceled, and students were confined to their dorms. Domestic fey delivered food from the dining hall three times a day.

  As she flew, the wind tousled her hair. In the distance, she could hear violin music playing a reel. Perhaps one of the musical groups in Dare Hall, such as The Geometric Quartet or The Ginger Snaps, had decided to rise early and had opened the windows of the room in which they practiced, except they weren’t supposed to leave the windows open during the lockdown.

  She left Dare Hall and flew south toward the next closest dorm, Spenser Hall. As she flew through the forest west of Spenser, the music grew louder and more boisterous. Rachel darted between trees whose branches were decked out in icicles. Ahead, in the growing early dawn light, she could see stomping footprints appearing from nowhere in the fresh snow. They seemed to be dancing, forming the steps of a jig. Beside the footprints, Lucky the Dragon hovered in the air, making fancy S-shapes to the beat of the music.

  Rachel thought back a few seconds, calling upon her perfect memory to show her the scene she had just witnessed. No differences. She sighed. Her method for seeing through obscurations did not allow her to see through the chameleon elixir. If those were Sigfried’s footsteps, she could not see him.

  Fifteen feet beyond Lucky and the dancing footprints were four small men. They wore red hats with long drooping peaks, heavy leather coats with high cuffs, and shiny black boots with silver buckles. Three of them sawed on fiddles. The fourth whistled upon a flute. That was strange. She knew that American redcaps were friendlier than their bloody, vicious Scotland and Ireland cousins, but still, a concert in the snowy forest seemed oddly peaceful.

  Too late, she saw that the violinists grinned maniacally, and the eyes of all four danced with malicious glee. More importantly, ruby sparkles swirled in the snow. The air twinkled and smelled of cherries. The birches with their curling papery bark gleamed. The snow glittered with red glints as if a child had spilled art supplies.

  “Sigfried?” she called.

  “Griffin, back up!” Sigfried’s voice called. He, too, spoke with a British accent, though his hinted at his lower-class, orphan upbringing. “They’ve got magic music!”

  Rachel shouted, “That’s inspiration enchantment. It makes you dance or fight or laugh.”

  Then she clapped her hands over her mouth. If she shouted too loudly, it would draw the attention of the proctors, which might be a better outcome than ending her life as dye for a redcap’s hat, but it would be a close second.

  “Ya think?” Siggy’s footsteps spun in a circle to the music.

  Three trumpet notes sounded from the direction of Sigfried’s footprints, sending out a blast of silvery sparks. However, as he blew, he spun. Instead of sweeping the redcaps off their feet, his wind gust merely disturbed some snow to their left.

  Rachel, too, found herself attempting to dance to the lively tune, which was dangerous in mid-air. Her perfect memory made her immune to entrancement, but this was different. This was inspiration. She was no more immune than Sigfried and Lucky. Landing quickly, she jumped away from her bristleless, so that she twirled about on the open snow, far from her broom—and from the nearest birch trunks—in the hopes of avoiding damaging herself.

  “The Raven sent me!” she called, annoyed. “What are you doing out here?”

  Sigfried blew another blast. Again, his gust missed the redcaps; however, it scooped up Rachel. The sparkly, silver wind tossed her into the air. She flew, head over heels, until she fell face-first into a drift of soft, fresh snow.

  Somewhere, outside of the cold, cold whiteness, she heard Lucky’s growly voice.

  “Er… oops,” muttered the dragon.

  “Better not breathe flame, Lucks, since you’re dancing, too,” came Sigfried’s voice. “Don’t want to accidentally crisp the blood-sister. Or me.”

  “Yeah, there are probably rules about not eating relations, even if they’re crispy,” agreed Lucky with great seriousness.

  Wonderful, Rachel thought, her face ice cold. I’m going to die, frozen in a snow bank while invisible. Do elixirs wear off when you die? Or do they stick, and you stay that way forever?

  The trumpet blared again. The violin music suddenly halted.

  “Ha! Take that, Red Tops! I knew I’d get you if I timed it right!”

  Rachel climbed to her feet, brushing snow from her face and hat. Two of the little men had been thrown some twenty feet and were picking themselves up out of the snow. They did not look happy. Rachel took advantage of their momentary consternation to run to Sigfried, or at least to where his footprints were appearing.

  “Quick!” she shouted. “Lucky, ward us!”

  “Um… how do I do that again?” Lucky asked. “Wasn’t paying attention in that class.”

  “Run in a circle three times widdershins. Make sure that the silvery part of the bottoms of your feet is touching the ground… er, snow.”

  “Boss, that makes no sense. How can I run with my shins if my feet are touching the ground?”

  “Good grief!” Rachel cried, feeling that she sounded rather like her boyfriend when she said it, which made her happy. “Not with-your-shins. Widder… never mind. Anticlockwise.” Rachel moved her finger in a counter-clockwise direction as it was quite possible that Lucky could see her despite the invisibility elixir. “Right to left. Three times. Around both of us, quick!”

  “Okay. Got it!”

  Lucky swooped down and moved rapidly to trace out a circle in the snow around Rachel and Siggy, his long, sinuous body dancing and swaying as he did so. As the dawn grew brighter, she could see him more clearly, a serpentine lung covered in golden fur except for his ruby stomach scales, his long, flame-red, koi-like whiskers, his red horns, and the fluffy, crimson dorsal ruff that ran from between his horns, down the length of his back, to the puffy tuft at the end of his tail.

  The music had started again. The little men looked angry. The beat picked up to a spirited reel. Ruby sparks circled Rachel’s feet, and her legs began to move faster.

  Truth be told, it was rather fun. Rachel loved dancing. I
t did not feel as if she could not control her limbs, unless she tried to stop. Otherwise, it felt like the urge to move about to music. She began to smile as she twirled and moved her feet, attempting cleverer steps.

  “That’s it, Lucky,” she called. “Just one more time aroun—umph!”

  Mid-leap, Rachel’s face collided with the shoulder of the invisible Sigfried. Pain exploded throughout her nose and cheeks, and her arms windmilled. She might have been able to keep her balance had her feet not had a will of their own, but, even as she was falling backward, they insisted on continuing to high-step to the reel. She crashed into the snow, smudging and ruining Lucky’s attempt to ward them.

  “Watch where you’re goin’, Griffin,” called Sigfried.

  “I can’t!” she wailed from where she lay in the snow. “You’re invisible.”

  “Ah. Fair point.”

  Rachel flailed, trying to rise, her efforts hampered by her continued attempt to dance. A crimson stain appeared near her in the white snow. Her nose must be bleeding. As his previous, still-unfinished ward had been ruined, Lucky began again, this time snaking out a larger circle.

  The redcaps let out an eerie ululating cry. Hackles rose along the back of Rachel’s neck.

  “Ace! Two can play at that,” cried Siggy, and he let out a similar cry.

  That gave the little men pause.

  Enough was enough. Pinching her nose, Rachel rolled into a kneeling position. Her feet tried to tap and jig, but with her weight on her knees, there was little her feet could do. Fixing her gaze on the little men, she whistled.

  Blue sparks flew from her mouth, striking the flute player, who ceased to move, frozen in place by her hex. Sigfried followed this with a well-timed wind blast, throwing the two he had previously struck back another forty feet. They tumbled head-over-heels, pointed redcaps flying.

  The remaining unencumbered redcap returned the favor. He ran his bow across his strings, and the red sparkles swirling toward Rachel and Sigfried changed to blue.

  “Not again!” cried Rachel, unable to duck.

  She hated being frozen.

  With a thud, the outline of a figure in a parka appeared in the snow beside Rachel, where Sigfried had been dancing. It lay motionless. When the twinkling blue sparks reached Rachel, however, they spun oddly and winked out. With a cry of joy, Rachel realized that the aquamarine necklace her brother had given her for Yule had protected her as promised.