Creation Mage 3 (War Mage Academy)

by Dante King

  Chaosbane reached into a pocket and pulled out a handful of what looked like jerky. He brushed tobacco crumbs, fluff, and dust off it before he tossed it to the zombie. It hit Arun in the head and fell on the floor. The zombie looked down, crouched, and began to chew the scrap of dried meat without any hint of an expression on his face.

  “Of course, you don’t need to feed a zombie,” Chaosbane said casually, watching Arun masticating slowly. “After all, it’s not as if the poor buggers can starve to death. But I always think it makes life easier all round; be kind rather than simply indifferent.”

  I turned and looked questioningly at Rick, Bradley, Damien, and Nigel. They shrugged as one.

  “Hell, I sort of like him better like this than I did when he was alive,” Damien said.

  Nigel made a guilty giggle.

  Rick said, “He certainly talks a lot less shit, does he not, friends?”

  I had to admit, Rick did make a point.

  “Sure, Chaosbane,” I said. “We’ve got a criminal, a saber-toothed tiger kitten, and a poltergeist under our roof now, why not add a zombie to the mix. We’ll leave him out here as a sort of guard dog for now.”

  Chaosbane nodded approvingly and started patting down his pockets, probably to find something to drink or smoke.

  “Hey, is there any chance that you could, you know, turn him back, Headmaster?” Alura asked.

  “That would be a question more suited for Madame Scaleblade,” Chaosbane said as we joined him on the porch, and I opened the door to the good old frat house—a building that was feeling more and more like home with every passing day.

  “I guess there’s not really any rush to try and do that, is there?” I asked, casting an eye at the zombie that was chewing away at the jerky like a cow at its cud. “He seems happy enough.”

  The others nodded, somewhat morosely, before they chuckled amongst themselves and followed me into the fraternity house. It was warm inside, and the arcane lamps glowed in their tarnished golden brackets. Everyone started heading to the kitchen, the unofficial heart of the house. I could already hear the clink of bottles and raised, excited voices echoing out of the cavernous room.

  “You guys go on ahead,” I said to the others.

  “Where are you sneaking off to, darling?” Cecilia asked me.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” I said. “I just want to check on something first.” I figured if Chaosbane had made it here, then Idman and Barry might also be here.

  “Well, hurry your ass up, dude!” Damien called as he walked with that purposeful tread, which told me that he was going to raid the shit out of the liquor cabinet.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Alura said, tipping me a wink over her crystalline shoulder as she followed the others.” We want to hear about how you came by the Skeleton Key.”

  I patted my pocket. Felt the slim hardness of the bone key where it rested against my thigh.

  “Yeah, I will,” I said. “You make sure that there’s a drink waiting for me.”

  I made my way over to the door that led down to the dungeon and pulled it open.

  “Mind if I join you, babe?” Janet asked from behind me.

  I grinned and opened the door to let her through first. “Not at all,” I said.

  We entered the dungeon below and the first thing that I noticed, and got a little kick out of, was the fact that the door to the dungeon did not suck automatically closed behind us.

  “Barry Chillgrave!” I called out to the room. “Barry, do I have you to thank for not having a dungeon that attacks anyone who steps into it as a matter of course?”

  Barry Chillgrave, our new resident poltergeist, zoomed out from behind a screen of stacked crates in a far corner of the room. Behind him, walking a lot more slowly, was Idman Thunderstone.

  “Ahoy there, maties!” Barry cried, as he approached. He looked to be in fine spirits. There was even a spectral bottle of good spirits in his hand. Janet hugged her father and he grasped her back.

  “How do you like the place?” I asked the poltergeist, grinning at the cheeky bastard. I couldn’t help but like the ghostly guy.

  “Aye, it’ll do as a base, young master,” Barry Chillgrave said. “You just leave it to me though, and we’ll make a few additions and tweaks that will have her more shipshape than she ever has been. Every sorority and fraternity might have a poltergeist, but there are few poltergeists that have been around as much and seen as many things as Barry Chillgrave, sir!”

  “Good to hear, Barry,” I said. “I look forward to seeing what you can do to the place.”

  I turned my attention to Idman. “I hope you’ll be comfortable down here,” I said to him.

  Idman went to answer, but Barry cut across him. “Ah, don’t you worry about that, sir, don’t you worry about that,” the poltergeist said. “We’ll have him set up and stowed in no time at all. Ah, we’re going to have some fun, ain’t we? Swapping tales of our deeds and adventures and what not, eh?”

  Idman gave Barry the slightly despairing look of a man who has resigned himself to being beaten slowly to death with kindness and enthusiasm.

  “Oh yes,” he said stonily. “I’m sure we’ll have a whale of a time.”

  “You see that, young master!” Barry said happily. “I’ve already got him using the nautical lingo!”

  Idman gave him a strained smile and said, “And my life feels all the fuller for it, Mr. Chillgrave. Packed to the gunwales, as the saying goes.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Barry said. “It might take a few days, but the rapport will slip into a more comfortable state, I’m sure, young master.”

  “Yes,” Idman said, “a more comfortable state. Like a coma, perhaps.”

  Barry grinned, totally missing the sarcasm, and said, “You see, we’re joshing with each other already!”

  Idman took me by the arm and led me a little away from the other two. “Now, there is something we must talk about, Mr. Mauler,” he said. “Something that we must discuss.”

  “We’re not about to have one of those awkward conversations that stems from your discomfort at me bedding your daughter are we?” I asked.

  A ripple of emotion passed over Idman’s face. “No,” he said, with an effort. “No. She is a grown woman and can do what she likes on that score.”

  ”Thanks very much,” I said, slightly surprised at his easy acquiescence.

  “Yes. But mark this, I know what you are—a Creation Mage—and I know how it is that practitioners like you grow their powers…”

  “Yeah, well, we can’t all be as lucky as me,” I said with an easy grin.

  “Just know though,” Idman said, “that my good will is dependent on you treating my daughter with the respect that is due to her. Also, I think it’s fair to say that you owe me a favor—for my good will as far as Janet is concerned, as well as my help in getting out of the prison.”

  I let out a short breath, but shrugged. “You’re all business, huh?” I asked.

  Idman gave me one of his thin smiles. “You’ll soon learn that there’s really not much else to life than business of one sort or another, Justin.”

  I nodded. The man did make a point of sorts. I just wondered what the favor might be, if he ever called it in.

  “I don’t know if you know, but were there any escapees from the prison?” I asked the former High Warden.

  Idman’s jaw clenched. “There were a few,” he replied. “Mostly they were nobodies, but there were three that I was alerted of, through magical channels, that I must make a point of hunting down. They could prove problematic to our cause.”

  I nodded. Then I put my arm around the tall man and guided him back over to where Janet and Barry stood chatting.

  “I tell you what,” I said, “how about we leave business and causes and all the rest of that shit and go upstairs and tie one on, hm? All that stuff, it can wait until the morning, yeah?”

  To my surprise, Idman actually smiled a genuine smile at me. I knew it was genuine, beca
use it was almost exactly the same smile that Janet hit me with when the two of us were alone.

  “That,” Idman said, “sounds damned good to me.”

  We rejoined the others in the kitchen, leaving Barry to start on changing up the dungeon to his liking.

  The cavernous room was full of all the people that I had come to rely most on in this magical world of Avalonia. There was Reginald Chaosbane sitting with his feet on the table and looking every inch a roguish king. He was chatting to the formidable-looking Ragnar Ironskin, whose teeth flashed steel-bright as he talked. Near those two, Madame Xel and Odette Scaleblade stood talking in a corner with Alura, the Gemstone Princess. Cecilia and Janet stood near me, each of them clutching goblets of wine. The rest of my fraternity brothers were chilling around the kitchen counter, wearing the smug, flushed expressions of those who’d faced Death and given him the finger.

  From behind the kitchen counter, where he was dressed in an apron and standing at his accustomed place by the stove—his happy place—Bradley Flamewalker raised a glass in my direction as I picked up a goblet of ale.

  “Another mission complete. More experience gained. You know what this means, don’t you, Justin?” he said loudly, so that the whole room could hear.

  “More training?” Nigel answered as I took a long delicious draft of cool beer and swallowed.

  “Hell no!” I cried, wiping my chin with the back of my arm. I placed an arm each around Cecilia and Janet. “It means that we're due a celebration! Breach a keg, Rick, it’s fucking party time!”

  End of Book 3

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