The Revenge of Magic

by James Riley

  Unfortunately, his excitement quickly dropped when he found himself standing on a military base almost identical to the one they’d taken off from.

  If his father were there, Fort knew exactly what he would have said. He could almost see his dad, standing there with a disappointed look on his face. They could have put a little effort into magical-ing it up, couldn’t they? he’d say. Maybe some living portraits or moving stairs or something? But don’t you worry, Fort. When you’re the top student here, you’ll make up for it all by being so amazing, people will come to the school just for a glimpse of you!

  Fort reached his hand into his pocket to grab the Gettysburg Address brochure, squeezing it between his fingers until the image of his father disappeared and he could breathe again.

  It didn’t matter what the school was like, as long as it taught him Destruction magic.

  And besides, maybe this was just another stop on the way, and they’d take another helicopter or car to the real school.

  “Here we are,” Dr. Opps said, gesturing around the base. “Welcome to the Thaumaturgic Defense Agency, home to the Oppenheimer School.”

  “The . . . what Defense Agency?” Fort asked, vaguely remembering hearing that somewhere before.

  “Thaumaturgic. It basically means magic, but doesn’t embarrass the military when they have to ask our special congressional committee for more funding. Speaking of, don’t worry about all the guards here.” Dr. Opps gestured all around them, and for the first time Fort realized there were dozens of soldiers grouped around the airfield, each one holding some sort of assault rifle. “They’re just here for your protection. Like I mentioned back at your aunt’s house, we have the best protection available here at the TDA, and no one gets in that we don’t let in, Fort. There’s no safer place on earth than the Oppenheimer School.”

  Fort nodded, but as he glanced around, he saw that none of the soldiers seemed to be looking out toward the walls. Instead, they were all staring at Fort and had their fingers on the triggers of their weapons.

  “This is the airfield, obviously,” Dr. Opps said, waving a hand around them. “Boys’ dormitory is over to your right. Soldier and officer barracks are those buildings past that, and off-limits to you.” He pointed at a short, fat building straight in front of them. “That’s the students’ mess, where you’ll be assigned specific times for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And behind the mess is the Training Hall. That’s where you’ll be spending most of your time.”

  Fort stared up at the five-story brown building, and again, was completely taken aback by how boring it looked. Mostly it resembled an office building, like the headquarters of a bank. “The Training Hall is where I’ll learn magic, then?”

  “That’s right. But first, we’re going to get you a security ID. Then I’ll show you the books, take you to the dorm, and get you settled.”

  Fort nodded, feeling a bit more excited now. The Training Hall might look boring, but if it had books of magic that could teach him a magic missile spell like Rachel’s, then boring was worth it.

  The soldiers around them waited as they passed. Then four on either side broke off and strode alongside them as they went, their guns still at the ready.

  “What are they doing?” Fort asked Dr. Opps.

  He patted Fort’s shoulder. “Nothing to worry about. Just here for protection, remember?”

  Right. But if the students were the ones being protected here, why did all the soldiers have their eyes on Fort?

  - NINE -

  THE TRAINING HALL ENTRANCE DOORS were guarded by two more soldiers, each holding their weapons in their hands, though aimed at the ground. Fort smiled at the one closest to him as they entered, but the guard just stared back without a hint of friendliness.

  “New student,” Dr. Opps murmured to the guards, and both of them nodded, still watching Fort carefully. Dr. Opps touched a badge to a small black box beside the door, and a small light clicked from red to green, unlocking the doors. He pulled one open and gestured for Fort to enter, which he did, followed by two of the soldiers accompanying them.

  Inside, two more soldiers waited at a desk behind a large, incredibly thick pane of glass or maybe some kind of transparent plastic. On either side were metal turnstiles that rose all the way up to the ceiling.

  The guards at the desk took Fort’s fingerprints through a small opening in the plastic wall, then aimed a camera at him and took a quick photo. They handed over a badge that looked a lot like Dr. Opps’s, only Fort’s had the word STUDENT in large letters at the top and showed a photo of him looking completely unaware he was getting his picture taken.

  “I could retake this photo if you want,” Fort suggested to the guard, but the man ignored him.

  Dr. Opps held his badge to another black box, this one by the turnstiles, and something clicked, allowing him to turn the metal teeth as he pushed through. Fort passed through the turnstiles as well, but the soldiers stayed behind.

  “They’re not coming with us?” he asked Dr. Opps as the soldiers turned and left the Training Hall.

  “No, they’re not needed here,” the doctor said. “We’ve reinforced the Training Hall to withstand almost anything you students can throw at it. Remember when I showed you Rachel blowing up the wall? We’ve taken precautions so that’s not possible anymore. We want you to be able to use the powers you gain in a safe place, after all. Just never against another student, outside certain parameters.”

  Fort stopped in place. “Wait, what? What do you mean, outside certain parameters?”

  Dr. Opps didn’t seem to hear the question. Instead, he kept moving, and eventually Fort had to jog to catch up, reaching the doctor at a bank of elevators. Instead of going up or down, Dr. Opps used his badge to pass through another set of doors just beyond the elevators. “I’ve arranged for your testing to happen immediately,” he said, holding one of the doors for Fort. “We’ll have to be a bit quicker than usual, as the classes will need the books back for training.”

  “Testing?” Fort asked, his heart beginning to race. “Is this when I find out which type of magic I’ll be learning?”

  Dr. Opps nodded. “There will be twenty or so, ah, school administrators watching, but don’t let them bother you. Just concentrate on the words you see in the books, and you’ll be fine.”

  There was going to be an audience? Of school “administrators,” whatever that meant? Fort swallowed hard, now more nervous than excited. Rachel had mentioned something about him being watched, but he’d figured that meant Dr. Opps and maybe one or two others. But twenty people? Couldn’t he just try a spell first in private for practice?

  They passed several offices with the same thick transparent walls that had covered the front desk, allowing Fort to see in. Most of the offices were filled with soldiers in camouflage uniforms at desks, some on phones, other typing on computers. Many of them looked up and stared as he walked past, and more than one rose from their seats in surprise, one even letting his hand rest on his weapon.

  At the end of the corridor, double doors opened into a large circular room. Stone benches ringed the room on each level, and a set of stairs led down to a center area with a wooden podium. Fort froze as he entered, recognizing the room as the same one where Rachel had blown up the wall. He glanced over to where the hole should have been and found it repaired, though a thin line still showed the outline of her attack.

  Most of the room was empty, but various men and women sat on the lowest level of seats, the ones nearest the podium. These people weren’t wearing camouflage like the soldiers, but instead had uniforms that looked very official and intimidating. Lots of stars and medals everywhere.

  As the men and women turned to look at Fort, he heard them murmur comments to each other quietly.

  “That’s him? He won’t last a day. Why are they even bothering?”

  “This whole thing is pointless. We can’t train one that we know can’t handle the power.”

  “Why Charles and Oppenheimer wan
t this kid here is beyond me.”

  “I apologize that we’re late,” Dr. Opps said, ignoring their comments. “This is Forsythe Fitzgerald, and you all know his unfortunate history. I know this isn’t the way we usually do things, so I thank you for allowing me this experiment.”

  Uh, what? Experiment? That’s what Fort was to them? Was this because his birthday wasn’t on the day the books were discovered?

  Dr. Opps turned to Fort as the others shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “Don’t worry about anything but the magic,” he whispered, guiding Fort to the podium. “It’s really just a simple test. Pick up the books one by one and turn to the first page. The books will start you on the least powerful spell and won’t let you read further in until you’ve mastered that one, so you won’t have a choice anyway.”

  Fort nodded, since it seemed like the response Dr. Opps wanted, but the doctor had already turned to take a seat, leaving Fort standing alone in front of everyone. His palms began to sweat, so he wiped them on his pants, feeling way too many eyes on him.

  Strangely, the lights seemed to flicker as he stood at the podium, and several of the officers looked around curiously, so Fort knew this wasn’t a usual problem. Maybe it was some kind of reaction to the magic he was about to perform?

  Two books lay on the podium, both closed. Strange letters ran across each cover, but as he touched them, the letters seemed to blur, changing into words he could read, just like they had in Dr. Opps’s memory. The one on the left said The Magic of Destruction, and Its Many Uses, while the one on the right was The Magic of Recuperation, and Restoring What Has Been.

  Blowing things up, or healing paper cuts. There wasn’t even a choice here. He had to learn Destruction magic. Healing would be useless against those monsters. To make them suffer, he needed powerful weapons on his side.

  Fort picked up The Magic of Destruction.

  The tome felt much heavier than it looked, and Fort almost fumbled it back to the podium. Someone behind him coughed, and Fort blushed as he heard someone else mumble, “He can’t even lift it. This kid’s useless.”

  His face burning, Fort quickly opened the Destruction book to the first page and set it back down on the podium. Whatever this spell was, he was going to make it the most powerful one these people had ever seen.

  He leaned over and scanned the page. Only, it didn’t look like a spell. It actually looked more like a poem.

  One for the body, bones and skin,

  One for the spirit, its spectral kin,

  One for the mind, thoughts and dreams,

  One for the world, from dirt to streams,

  One for all space, wide and vast,

  One for all time, future and past.

  Seven from six, the rest unearthed.

  One saves all, if proved their worth.

  Fort’s eyes widened as he read. What did that mean? Was it some sort of—

  “Ah, Forsythe, I forgot,” Dr. Opps said from his seat. “I’ll explain that poem later, it’s in all the books. Just turn one page further.”

  Fort nodded, despite facing away from the doctor, and turned to the next page, where the same unreadable language that had been on the cover of the book slowly morphed into something legible here, too.

  Canterbury’s Flash: Ignite the air before you, creating a dazzling light to momentarily blind your foes.

  A small picture to the right of that showed what looked to be some sort of short goblinlike creature wandering around blind.

  Below the description were two words not in English, and they didn’t seem to be translating themselves: “gen rexelum.” As he read them, a warm feeling spread over him, and the words disappeared from the page, but their afterimage seemed to burn into his brain.

  Had . . . had he just learned his first magic spell?

  Okay, Fort thought. Make this the biggest flash they’ve ever seen.

  Fort turned back to the audience, then paused, not really sure how to cast the spell. Should he raise his hand? Did he need a wand? Or did he just say the words? And what happened if he pronounced them wrong?

  “Gen . . . rexelum,” Fort whispered, holding up his hands.

  Immediately, power flowed through his body and out of his hands, setting them aglow.

  Too late, he realized he should have closed his eyes against the blinding flash.

  Unfortunately, there was no need.

  The flash from his hands slightly brightened the room momentarily, like there’d been a tiny power surge, then faded into nothing. Overall, there was even less of an effect than when the lights had flickered a moment earlier.

  NO! he screamed in his mind. Why hadn’t it worked better? He needed to learn Destruction magic. There was no other option!

  “Even the Healing students do better with Destruction magic than that,” someone said.

  “We already knew kids not born on Discovery Day are basically useless,” said someone else. “Why is Oppenheimer bothering with this one?”

  “I can do better,” Fort said, turning around to look at Dr. Opps. “Let me try again. I know I can do better!”

  The doctor, though, was staring at the lights, looking lost in thought. He seemed to come out of it abruptly and turned back to Fort. “Move on to the other book, Forsythe.”

  All the hope he’d felt since meeting Dr. Opps faded away almost to nothing, and Fort moved numbly to the second book. As he opened it, he wondered why he was even bothering. What was the point? He was here to learn how to fight monsters like the one that had killed his father, not heal someone’s stubbed toe. What use was this?

  “Continue, please,” Dr. Opps said from behind him.

  Fort wiped his sweaty hands on his shirt and looked down at the open book, skipping past the same poem from the Destruction book.

  Heal Minor Wounds and Scrapes, the text said. Restore small cuts or shallow burns with a cooling touch. The drawing next to it had a woman holding her hands over a man’s arm with a cut that barely would have required a Band-Aid.

  Great. Even more useless than he thought. But maybe if he could cast this spell, they’d give him another chance at Destruction?

  Fort read over the words to the spell, “mon d’cor,” and again, they faded away. But as he turned back to his audience, ready to cast it, he realized he’d need someone to heal. Turning even brighter red, he looked pathetically at Dr. Opps. “I . . . um, I need a minor scrape to heal.”

  Dr. Opps snapped his fingers like he’d forgotten. “Right. Anyone have an injury? If not, I can choose a volunteer.”

  The others chuckled politely, while Fort tried not to climb under the podium to hide.

  “I cut myself during training yesterday,” said someone next to Dr. Opps. Fort turned to look at the man, and his eyes widened. He’d seen this man before. On television, standing in front of a bunch of reporters. What had his name been? The one who’d introduced the Department of Tharm-whatever?

  “I’m Colonel Charles, Forsythe,” the man said, giving Fort a friendly smile and a small wave as he stood up. He pulled his uniform jacket off, then folded it up and left it on his chair before unrolling his shirt sleeve and presenting a small cut to Fort. “One of my students was a bit overzealous.”

  Fort nodded, not sure what else to say. He half wanted to apologize in case he made the cut worse, but instead, he put his hands over the wound and shut his eyes, just in case everything went horribly wrong. “Mon . . . d’cor,” he whispered.

  This time, Fort’s hands seemed to lower in temperature, and he felt some weirdly cold energy leave his fingers and pass into the man’s arm. Worried, he opened his eyes, expecting to have frozen the man’s skin, but the cut had disappeared.

  “I’d say that’s a minor wound healed,” Colonel Charles said, holding his arm up for the others to see. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a Healing student!”

  “Not much of one,” someone said as the group all rose to their feet, collecting their belongings.

  “Wait,” Fort said, step
ping around to face Colonel Charles. “I’m not a healer. I need to learn Destruction magic! Let me try again. I swear I’ll be better this time!”

  The colonel smiled down at him gently. “That’s the spirit. Work hard and do your best here, Forsythe, and maybe we’ll see if we can’t get you into the Destruction program after all. You look like you have the makings of a powerful warrior to me.”

  He tousled Fort’s hair, then returned to his seat to grab his jacket and follow the others out.

  When the room had emptied, Dr. Opps rose out of his seat and walked over to Fort, then patted him on the shoulder. “You did well,” he said, turning to the podium and closing each book. “The next few days will be hard, but I have faith in you. You’ll be a welcome new addition to the school.”

  Fort turned away. “That’s not what the others were saying. They couldn’t stop talking about how useless I was.”

  “That’s just your imagination running away with you,” Dr. Opps said as he walked Fort toward the door. “None of the other administrators said a word during the entire test.”

  - TEN -

  FORT FOLLOWED DR. OPPS BACK through the facility, completely confused. He’d definitely heard the officers talking, and not just once. How could he have just imagined it? He’d never done anything like that before, even when he was nervous.

  “Let’s get you situated with a bunk and uniforms,” Dr. Opps was saying, and Fort realized he hadn’t heard much of anything else the doctor had said. “After that, I’ll have a student take you to meet your new Healing teacher, and she’ll explain what’s to come over the next few days.”

  Fort nodded. “If I do well with Healing, maybe I could switch to Destruction? Honestly, I think that suits me better, and Colonel Charles said—”

  “No, I’m afraid there won’t be any switching,” Dr. Opps said. “The test determined you have more of a facility for Healing. It’s a noble study, Forsythe. You should be proud.”

  Proud? Fort clenched his fists, wanting to shout that he didn’t care about pride, that he had let his father down and wouldn’t be able to make those monsters pay for what they’d done to him. But instead, he just took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. If he yelled at the school headmaster, he’d be gone as quickly as Rachel thought he’d be.