The Revenge of Magic

by James Riley

  Prove to them you can learn magic first, he thought. Then worry about showing them how powerful you’d be at Destruction.

  In order to change the subject, Fort offered up another question he’d had from the test. “So that poem at the beginning of both books—what exactly was that?”

  Dr. Opps coughed. “We, uh, don’t know. It seems to reference the books themselves, but we only know of four books, not seven. And the last line suggests some sort of savior type, but in my experience, that’s seldom how life works.” He gave Fort a side glance. “Every student here believes it’s referring to them, Forsythe. Don’t follow their bad example. Work hard, and you’ll succeed. We don’t need a hero. We need dedicated, reliable students working as a team.”

  “Don’t worry,” Fort said. “I couldn’t care less about that.” And he meant every word. Let the other students worry about saving the world. He’d be content just making those monsters suffer.

  They left the facility, and soldiers joined back up around them as they walked across the grounds. Something sizzled behind them from one of the upper floors of the Training Hall, like a burst of electricity, and each of the guards around them froze, immediately turning their weapons on the building. But when nothing else happened, they seemed to relax slightly and resumed their walk.

  “Don’t worry,” Dr. Opps said, noticing Fort’s jumpiness. “You won’t be training with the Destruction students. Healing students practice on a different floor, and interdisciplinary interaction is carefully moderated. You won’t be getting electrocuted if we can help it.”

  That “if we can help it” sounded a bit more ominous than Fort would have liked, but there wasn’t much time to question it, as he found they were almost to the building Dr. Opps had pointed out earlier as the boys’ dormitory.

  The building where he’d be living now was long and narrow and had windows running the length of it. It had only one floor and was painted the same dull brown color as the rest of the base. Fort glanced behind him and noticed an identical building on the opposite side of the base, which was probably the girls’ dormitory.

  “The dorm should be empty right now, but you can meet the other—” Dr. Opps stopped talking as they entered the dormitory and found a boy sitting on one of fifty or so bunks facing each other down the long building. “Cyrus?”

  The boy looked up from a comic book he was reading. His hair was curly and bright white, almost glowing in the fluorescent lighting. The boy half smiled, his gaze a bit unsteady as he looked between Fort and the doctor, almost like he hadn’t had enough sleep.

  “Hello, Dr. Opps,” Cyrus said with a British accent. Then he turned to Fort and grinned. “Fort! Nice to see you again!”

  Dr. Opps just stared at him. “This is . . . uh, Forsythe, Cyrus. He just joined us today at the school. Would you mind showing him around the dormitory and helping introduce him to the students when they return?”

  Cyrus hadn’t stopped staring at Fort, who had no idea what was happening now. “Oh, that’s right, we’re meeting for the first time,” the boy said, winking at Fort. “I can definitely give you a tour of the place. I can’t believe you’re finally here!”

  Fort gave Dr. Opps a confused look, but the teacher just smiled. “Cyrus is a student here as well, in a way, but not in either of the two areas of study we focus in. He transferred here from a facility just like ours in the UK, after some issues arose.”

  “I’m told everyone went quite insane except me,” Cyrus said to Fort, then seemed to consider what he’d just said. “Though I added the ‘except me’ part myself, which makes me wonder if . . . ah well.”

  Dr. Opps sighed, but he clapped a hand on Fort’s shoulder. “He’s kidding,” he said out loud, then more quietly, “but try not to take anything he prophesies too seriously. We haven’t had access to clairvoyants long enough to truly know what they’re capable of.”

  “Clairvoyants?” Fort whispered back, remembering what Rachel had said about a school in the UK, a school where the students—

  “We see the future,” Cyrus said, moving next to them so quietly that Fort jumped. “And what we see always comes true. Unless we change it, of course.”

  “We don’t know that for sure, Cyrus,” Dr. Opps said. “Certainly you’ve had some misreadings in the past.”

  “They were misinterpreted, that’s all,” Cyrus said to the doctor, then turned to Fort and grinned. “I can take a look at your future, if you’d like?” He leaned in closer, reaching for Fort’s hand.

  Dr. Opps pulled Fort just out of Cyrus’s reach. “Let’s let Fort get settled in first, Cyrus. He has plenty to get accustomed to without worrying about what’s coming next.”

  “Of course, your bunk!” Cyrus said, and motioned for Fort to follow him. “Follow me. I’ll show you which one is yours.”

  Fort just watched the other boy walk away, barely able to keep up with what was happening. “Are we . . . assigned beds?” he asked Dr. Opps.

  The doctor shook his head. “Pick whichever one you want, assuming it’s not occupied already.”

  “Here, it’s this one,” Cyrus said, pointing at a bed all the way at the end. “Next to mine.”

  “I think I’d prefer this one, near the door,” Fort said, just to feel like he’d had a say in it. He patted the perfectly made bed closest to him with no signs of anyone’s things. “Is this free?”

  Cyrus shrugged, moving back toward them. “It is for now. But you’re going to choose the one in the back later tonight. Why not save yourself the trouble of moving your things?”

  “Cyrus, how about you take Fort over to get sized for uniforms before lunch,” Dr. Opps said. “And I’m going to see about getting your training courses developed a bit faster. We can’t have you sitting around unsupervised like this.”

  “They won’t be ready for another week or so, but they’re not going to be needed anyway,” Cyrus told him. Then, to Fort’s horror, Cyrus grabbed his wrist, and he braced himself to hear something awful coming in the future.

  Fortunately, the boy didn’t start spouting archaic language foretelling an ancient prophecy. Instead, he just yanked Fort toward the door. “Let’s get you your uniform. You look so odd to me in regular clothes. I’m just used to you in the green, I suppose.”

  “We’ll talk again at dinner, Fort,” Dr. Opps said. “I’ll answer any further questions you have at that time.”

  “But—” Fort started to say, then Cyrus pulled him out the door.

  “It’s not far,” Cyrus told him, releasing his wrist as he led Fort across the yard. This time six soldiers fell in around them, most of them keeping their eyes on Cyrus, which actually made Fort much more nervous. Who was this kid? There was no way he could actually tell the future . . . right?

  “So you’re from the UK?” Fort asked.

  “London,” Cyrus answered. “But the school was in Carmarthen. It’s one of the oldest cities in Wales, and where Merlin was from, in legends.” He winced. “When they found the Clairvoyance book, and you Americans found yours, there was a bit of talk about how if magic had come back, this must be some sort of return of Merlin, especially because he was meant to have lived backward in time, whatever that means. And if Merlin was returning, so must King Arthur be on his way, arriving with Excalibur to save all of Britain.” He waved an imaginary sword around majestically.

  Fort stopped in place. “Um, did he come back?”

  Cyrus laughed. “Not that I noticed. I’m fairly sure that King Arthur was no more real than your magician Harry Houdini.”

  “Um—”

  “Anyway, after the other students lost their minds, I think all the Merlin stuff suddenly looked like pure vanity, and the government got rightfully embarrassed about the whole thing. I got sent here because I think they wanted to forget it ever happened.” He paused. “Are the others still there, though? It’s hard to remember. I get confused sometimes between what I’ve seen to come, and what I’ve lived already, but I’m fairly certain I’ll be
seeing the school again in the months to come. . . .”

  “Oh, so you’re heading back?” Fort asked, feeling slightly less nervous if Cyrus was leaving.

  “Not the way you’re thinking,” Cyrus told him.

  Uh, okay? “So someone told me that you have to look at specific dates and times to see the future. That means you don’t just automatically know what happens to random people, right?”

  Cyrus grinned. “Are you asking me to look into your future? I’m happy to, if you’d like!” He closed his eyes for a moment, mumbling some words Fort couldn’t hear. “Oh wow. That’s just gruesome. How are you still able to stand—”

  Fort’s eyes widened, and he shook his head violently. “No, not mine, I just meant in general. I’d rather not know what’s coming for me.”

  This seemed to confuse Cyrus. “But it’s so helpful. Like your bunk. You end up choosing the one I pointed out for a good reason. And the table at lunch. If you knew ahead of time what’s about to happen, you’d make different choices. Why wouldn’t you want all the information?”

  Fort just stared at the boy for a moment, not sure how to respond to that. If Cyrus knew every decision Fort was going to make, then was Fort really the one making the decisions? If his whole future was already mapped out, could he still change it? Could he—

  “Oh yeah, you can definitely still change it,” Cyrus told him. “It happens all the time.”

  This was too much for Fort to handle, and he started to wonder if he was the one going insane. “Did . . . did you just read my mind?”

  “Oh no, I’ve never studied that magic,” Cyrus said, laughing. “No, you were just going to ask me that question a minute from now, and I wanted to prove the point. See? Now you won’t ask! Future changed. Come on, let’s get you a uniform before lunch. I’m famished!”

  - ELEVEN -

  GETTING FITTED FOR A UNIFORM didn’t take much time at all, and after talking to Cyrus, it was comfortingly normal. As he looked at himself in the mirror, thinking how boring an all-green uniform looked, Fort could hear his father again in the back of his mind.

  Wow, you really make that color come alive, Fort! Watch out, because that uniform is going to be considered high fashion when you’re done with it.

  “What do you think?” Cyrus said, startling Fort out of his daydream.

  “Oh, it’s fine,” he said, forcing a smile. “At least I won’t stand out this way.”

  The mess hall wasn’t too far, which was good, because though Fort’s new shoes did seem to fit, they also rubbed his feet uncomfortably. Hopefully they just needed to be broken in.

  But between the uniform and the constant presence of soldiers everywhere, Fort was starting to worry that this whole school of magic was going to involve less spellcasting and more boot camp. Hopefully they’d be too busy learning magic to run fourteen miles with a hundred-pound backpack.

  When they entered the mess hall, Cyrus sped up, practically yanking Fort off his feet to pull him toward the food line at one side of the room. The rest of the cafeteria was empty, with long tables filling most of the room. “We’re early,” Cyrus said. “Enjoy it while you can. Healers are always late to lunch, and the mess usually runs out of everything good.”

  “Great,” Fort said, surveying the choices as bored-looking soldiers slowly stuck spoons into large trays of what looked like brown glop. “Is that . . . the good stuff?”

  Cyrus laughed. “That’s the chili. You probably want to avoid that for a few days. You’re going to have a hard enough time making friends without causing air pollution. The chicken fingers are always the first thing to go, so I’d grab at least a few now, since you’ll never see them again.”

  Fort did as Cyrus suggested, taking some french fries as well, and then chose water over milk, the only two drink options. Cyrus did the same, then started to lead Fort to the table nearest the food line, only to stop abruptly and switch to the table closest to the door.

  The choice made Fort even more nervous as he began to hear voices in the hallway. “Was something wrong with that first table?”

  Cyrus took a bite of a chicken finger. “Not wrong necessarily. But you’ll get hurt less at this one.”

  “Less?” Fort asked, almost choking on a fry. Before Cyrus could answer, though, a group of soldiers entered the cafeteria, all armed, and spread out along the walls. Behind them, the source of the voices appeared as a bunch of kids all around Fort’s age came into the mess, some shoving each other, others chatting loudly, all seeming like they had way too much energy.

  “Everyone gets lessons in the mornings,” Cyrus whispered to him as each kid turned to stare at Fort as they walked past. “Since the Destruction students haven’t had their combat drills yet, lunches can get a little loud.”

  Combat drills? But Dr. Opps had said they weren’t going to do any fighting, just make weapons for actual soldiers to use.

  A trio of blond boys all slowed down as they passed Fort’s table, then stopped to stare at him. “You’re the new Band-Aid?” one of them asked.

  “His name is Fort,” Cyrus answered brightly, and Fort dropped his head into his hands.

  “No one asked you, future turd,” a second one said, placing his palm down on the metal table. His hand began to glow, and Cyrus immediately lifted his tray into the air, but Fort didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. His tray began to sizzle, turning white-hot with heat, and he yelped as it burned his hands. His food slowly blackened, and a burning smell wafted through the mess.

  “Hey!” Fort shouted, leaping out of his seat. “What did you do that for?”

  Behind him, the soldiers began to shift nervously, and a few of the soldiers across the way even raised their weapons. But the blond boy in front of Fort just smirked at the soldiers, then turned back to Fort. “I hear you weren’t born on Discovery Day. Can you even cast a spell?”

  Fort took a deep breath, not wanting to get kicked out of another school for fighting. “I can,” he said slowly, deliberately unclenching his fists. “And I’m sure I’ll get better at it . . . as I learn more.”

  The three boys looked at each other, then laughed.

  “Great,” a third blond boy said. “Just what we need, an underpowered nurse.”

  “Nurses actually do most of the work in hospitals,” Cyrus pointed out. “Many of them know just as much about medicine as doctors do, and—”

  “Do you ever say anything worthwhile?” the first blond boy said to Cyrus, then turned back to Fort. “What, you’ve got something to say?”

  Fort could feel his heart beating in his ears and he took a step closer, clenching his teeth, before a hand nervously tapped his shoulder. “No altercations outside of training,” said one of the soldiers, sounding more anxious than Fort felt.

  The second blond boy looked up at the soldier with a slow smile, his hands starting to glow, and the soldier backed away. Apparently even the guards couldn’t intimidate the Destruction kids.

  “They won’t stop us,” the boy whispered to Fort as fire played over his fingers. “We’re too important . . . and they’re afraid. Why don’t I show you why?”

  - TWELVE -

  WELL, BAND-AID?” THE BLOND BOY said, his hands glowing red with heat that Fort could feel from across the table. “I hear you were in D.C. in the attack. Were you as scared then as you are now? How much did you cry?”

  Fort could barely hear him over the ringing in his ears. His face contorted with rage, and he pulled back his fist—

  “Wow, you guys are pathetic,” said a voice from behind the three blond boys. They whirled around, revealing Rachel and two other girls, all staring in boredom at the boys. “Picking on the new kid. He doesn’t even know any magic yet.”

  “So?” the second blond boy snarled. “Even if he’s new, he’s a healer, and they all suck. What do you care, anyway?”

  Rachel flicked a finger, and a tiny magic missile slammed into the boy’s stomach, sending him crashing across the table, tak
ing Fort’s burning-hot tray with him. He tumbled into the back wall as the soldiers nearby all leaped out of the way, their weapons now aimed at Rachel. She didn’t seem to notice.

  “Our job is to protect weaker people, like Fort,” Rachel said as the two girls at her side pushed the remaining blond boys out of the way. “And I better not see you Chads or Blaines or whatever your names are messing with him again, or I’ll set fire to you all in practice and make it look like an accident. You know Colonel Charles will believe me too.”

  The blond boy on the ground slowly picked himself up. “I’m Bryce, actually. And that’s Trey. And you know he’s the only one named Chad—” He pointed at the last boy.

  “Quiet, Blaine,” Rachel said, and flicked another finger at him. The boy flinched, but this time nothing happened, and Rachel’s two friends laughed. “Now get me some lunch or something. I don’t have all day here.”

  Bryce or Blaine slowly nodded, then moved quickly around the table, giving Fort one last death look before getting into line with the other two boys.

  “See?” Cyrus whispered. “He’s going to be the reason you switch beds tonight.”

  “I didn’t need your help,” Fort told Rachel, his heart still beating hard. “I could have handled him.”

  Rachel grinned as her friends rolled their eyes. “Nah, you couldn’t. He’s a Discovery Day boy, so he’s more powerful. That’s just how it is. Even if not, you’re still just learning Healing magic, while he could electrocute you without a second thought. He won’t touch you while I’m around, but I’d watch yourself in the dorm.”

  “Especially tonight,” Cyrus whispered. “It’s gonna be bad.”

  “How are you doing, Future Man?” Rachel said, throwing Cyrus an amused look. “Still see me saving the entire world?”