Fantastic Schools, Volume 3

by Emily Martha Sorensen

  Tears streamed down Kendi’s cheeks. “Not much we can do. Two weeks from now will end our time together.” She took his hand as Perth stared down at the ground, his other hand clenched in a fist.

  “Pardon me, Kendi, Perth,” said a fairy they had rescued. “I see you are hurting. Why? This is a celebration.” This male had the sagging jowls of middle age and a pot belly.

  Kendi shook her head and said nothing. She just waved for the fairy to leave, but he remained.

  Nathan took the direct tack but kept his voice level. “She’s sad because your tribal tradition says she and her husband have to divorce since they don’t have any children yet.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible!” he said, fluttering close to the humans. “Divorce is such a terrible thing!”

  Sally shouted at him. “We agree! Now, if we could just get your chief to relent, we’d be set, but he won’t overturn tradition.”

  The fairy shook his head. “Not my chief and not my tradition. I’m from another tribe. We don’t force divorce.”

  Perth’s head shot up. “You don’t?”

  Kendi looked up at the new fairy, too.

  “No, we don’t. I’m Den, by the way, from the Charst tribe.”

  Perth said, “In the cabin, you said they’re from north and east of here, right?”

  “Far to the northeast. I got captured during our annual migration over this bog.”

  Kendi shook her head and squeezed Perth’s hand tighter. Tiny rays of hope crept into her voice. “We won’t have to divorce.”

  “But you will have to make changes,” Den said. “We don’t worship your gods in the Charst tribe.”

  Perth let go of Kendi hand and slipped an arm around her slender waist. Somehow, they kept flying. “The law of our gods will separate us forever. Why should we stay? Den told me of their single god in the cages. He is just and not capricious.”

  “But the god of my tribe may not bless you with children, either. Would you then just abandon him?”

  “No,” Kendi said. “We will serve your god for our lives, if he lets us stay together.”

  The newcomer explained, “Please understand, we expect you to become one of us. Where we go, you will go. Our god will be your god. Your own tribe will reject you, and forbid you to return. You will never pray to any god except ours. You will only serve the Father, Son, and Spirit.”

  Karen’s jaw dropped.

  Kendi and Perth flew high up in the air and shared a kiss. They floated down gently to the humans’ eye level. “Well, you know we’ll be leaving tomorrow for parts unknown!”

  “We wish you the best,” Karen said, cheerily.

  Perth kissed Karen and Sally on their cheeks.

  “Perth!” Kendi giggled and playfully slapped her husband.

  “What? It’s the fairy way! I won’t mind if you say thank you to Nathan.”

  Kendi flew close to the black robe, hovered near his cheek, then backed away. “Nope. Can’t do it. Sorry.”

  Nathan smiled at her. “It’s okay.”

  Laughing, the human trio began the trip back to their vehicles at the edge of the bog.

  About halfway there, Karen said, “A good day.”

  “It could have been better,” Nathan said.

  “Oh, you’d have preferred an evil day, I suppose,” Sally quipped.

  “Not what I meant.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I behaved very badly today, Karen. My spying on you was inexcusable. I invaded your privacy and caused you pain and embarrassment. I am sorry.”

  Karen raised her eyebrows in surprise and glanced at Sally.

  Sally grinned and nodded encouragingly.

  “I accept your apology, Nathan.”

  Sally nudged her and said, “And I think we should not tell Dr. Graff that part of today. Nathan was a big help, without him we couldn’t have freed the fairies. Still no date, though.”

  Grudgingly, Karen agreed. “But understand this. Girls talk, and if I ever hear you do such a thing to anyone else, no matter her alignment, we will band together and hunt you down like the Evil pig you are.”

  Taken aback, Nathan nodded. “As you say. Who wants to type up the report? I’m all thumbs on the keyboard.”

  “I’d better do it,” Sally said. “I acted as scribe, and no one else wants to decipher my chicken scratches.”

  “How did you make it through Madam Stacy’s scrollwork class?” Writing spells on scrolls required very precise lettering.

  “With a penalty of -1 to every attempt.”

  The trio laughed and walked out of the bog.

  Frank B. Luke grew up in Oklahoma, met his future wife at seminary in Missouri, and now resides in Iowa with her. They have two young boys who keep them busy. They are associate pastors at a small church outside Knoxville, Iowa. While he earns a living as a web developer, she takes care of the house and boys. He writes fantasy and science fiction to explore God's truth in fantastic ways. He finds such story-theology connects with readers on both cognitive and emotional levels.

  Other stories in Night Candle setting are forthcoming. More about Frank B. Luke's writing can be found at https://frankluke.wordpress.com/published-in/

  Ted Talk

  By Karina Fabian

  Everyone knows trolls can’t do magic…except Gurlurk, who has heard one Ted Talk too many. When he discovers there’s more to it than believing in oneself, he doesn’t take it well. When chaos ensues, it’ll take a dragon to save the day. Will Vern give up his comfy napping place and “just do it”?

  Vern’s many adventures are told in the DragonEye, PI, books and stories by Karina Fabian. Gurlurk makes an appearance in If Wishes Were Dragons, where the two face the consequences of that fateful day when Gurlurk discovered that “digging deep” sometimes means deep trouble.

  Ted Talk

  Ted Rawlings left the “You Too Can Be a Motivational Speaker!” seminar with a spring in his step and hope soaring in his heart. He could do it! He could use his words and the fire in his spirit to inspire hundreds—no, thousands!—of complete strangers. And make money at it, too.

  He just needed to get the cash for the $600 down payment for the “Can-Do Circle” before all the slots were filled. He’d take a shortcut through the atrium to the cash machine and be back before the break was over.

  His eyes on the garish convention hall carpet and his mind already planning his first motivational talk, he didn’t notice that the “doors” to the atrium were glowing, and the garden beyond was a mystical forest.

  Gurlurk crouched on one side of the quarry, grabbing boulders and hurling them at the other side while he sulked. The impacts made a soothing counterpoint to his grumbling.

  “Stay home, Gurlurk.”

  Crash!

  “Know your place, Gurlurk.”

  Bam!

  “Do duty, Gurlurk.”

  Crack!

  From behind him, a voice said in an odd accent, “Uh, excuse me?”

  Gurlurk whirled, a beachball-sized rock in his hand, ready to hurl it at anyone his royal parents had sent to drag him back to the homecaves. Instead, a puny human in weird clothes cringed and held up his hands defensively.

  “Please!” the tiny one cried. “I come in peace! I’m terribly, terribly lost! I was walking across the hotel, looking for an ATM and…”

  The small one chattered on. Gurlurk understood about one word in three, and piling on more words did not help, but the human kept at it, anyway. It somehow made Gurlurk feel even more depressed.

  “Go away, manrunt,” he said. “Gurlurk got own troubles.” He crouched back down and resumed throwing rocks.

  After three boulders met their doom against the side of the quarry, he heard light footsteps, and then the manrunt was sitting beside him.

  “You seem sad,” he said.

  Gurlurk understood these words, at least, but he didn’t know how to answer. Even if trolls had the vocabulary to describe the long, dark night of the soul, he wasn’t going to admit his existential
ennui to a complete stranger. If ennui was the right word. Probably not; it sounded too elvish. Instead, he shrugged and threw another stone.

  The human set a hand on his arm. “Come on, big guy. You can talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  “Stupid parents. Stupid rules. Not want be fighter. Want different. Want…” He sighed. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t have what he wanted. Yet, he’d defied his father and his king. Now, he was stuck with a puny human as a companion, and he was out of rocks.

  “What?” the human pressed. “What do you want?”

  Gurlurk shrugged.

  “Oh, I bet you know. You just have to dig deep.”

  “Dig? Me no dwarf!”

  The human yelped. “Sorry! I mean, look inside yourself. No, not actually! Not… Whoa. Stop, stop! Dang, you’re limber. Sit, sit. Now, close your eyes. Imagine yourself doing exactly what you always wanted. The thing that would make you the happiest and best you possible.”

  Gurlurk had never had a human talk to him in such a friendly manner before. Usually, they ran screaming or shouted threats. The surprise as much as anything made him sit obediently and close his eyes. He let his mind drift as the human nattered on.

  What would make him happy? What would be his dream come true?

  He remembered his father taking him to see a traveling show of faerie performers. They’d hidden behind an outcropping on a hill, looking down at the marvels—dancers draped in brilliant clothes, acrobats swinging from ropes, and a mage. He’d loved the mage. Magic was common enough among the faerie folk but unheard of in trolls. Plus, there was something about the elf magician’s showmanship, the way his audience cheered at the simplest trick...

  Later that night, as they made a meal of the performers, he’d begged extra portions of the mage. He thought he felt the magic flowing in him with every swallow. For days after, he imagined each belch was proof of the magic fermenting inside him. He had felt happy and unique. If only...

  “I see from the look on your face that you know what you want,” his companion singsonged.

  “Want be mage.” Then he opened his eyes. Reality returned in the form of broken rocks and a puny, weirdly-dressed manrunt.

  “So?” the manrunt asked. “Do it!”

  “Can’t. Trolls no be mages.”

  “You can’t think like that, friend. Listen, if there’s one thing I learned this weekend, it’s whatever you can conceive and believe, you can achieve. You just have to believe in yourself.”

  Ted had no idea how he’d ended up in this bizarre forest talking to a 16-foot, 800-pound...troll? He hadn’t known you could get flashbacks from pot. Kristie had said it was medical grade… Anyway, he’d decided to just go with it.

  And it was actually going pretty well. He’d met Gurlurk “where he was,” established a connection, found his pain point… Two hours later, the troll rose to his feet, cheering.

  “Yes! Ted talk true! Gurlurk be mage. Gurlurk believe! Gurlurk go Hermes Magical University now.”

  Ted wanted to cheer, too. His first time out as a motivational speaker, and he’d convinced a troll to go to college! That had to be some kind of record. “I believe in you, Gurlurk! Really. Anything I can do to help. I am here for you.”

  That’s when Gurlurk hit him over the head with a rock.

  It was a testimony to the kind of week the HMU admissions counselor was having that, when a 16-foot troll with dirt on his feet and old meat chunks on his shirt walked in and demanded to become a mage, his first thought was, “Is it really only Wednesday?”

  It’s because I’m multilingual, the gnome thought with a sigh. Never mind that he could squash me with one stomp. I just had to take those extension classes in guttural languages.

  “Mister Gurlurk,” Piccs began.

  “Prince Gurlurk!” the troll thundered reflexively. Then, he got a curious scowl on his face and amended, “No. No want be prince. Want be mage.”

  Fighting an internal sigh, Piccs skipped the honorifics altogether. “Gurlurk. Piccs apologizes. Gurlurk no be mage. Trolls no be mages. Trolls no can use magic.”

  “Gurlurk can! Ted say! Ted say, ‘Believe and achieve.’ Gurlurk believe. Gurlurk do magic.”

  “Ted, who? Ted, where?”

  Gurlurk looked at his stained shirt guiltily.

  I don’t get paid enough for this. Piccs met the troll’s eyes. “Make deal. Gurlurk prove do magic, Gurlurk become student.”

  When the troll stood there, dumbfounded, the little gnome made shooing motions with his hands and returned to the pile of paperwork that no amount of magic seemed to reduce. At least, it was Hump Day.

  Gurlurk wandered the edge of campus, the only troll in the chaos of magical and magic-using creatures. The entire student body seemed to be in the courtyards and streets celebrating something called “pledge week.” Gurlurk didn’t hear any vows being made, only laughter and song, catcalls, and encouragements to drink.

  And spells. All around him, people were using magic in ways profound and base, from filling the sky with ethereal images to pantsing an unsuspecting victim. Some people cheered or groaned, but there was so much magic happening, most people went their own way, taking it for granted.

  What was he doing here? He didn’t belong. Trolls don’t—

  No! A little voice that sounded like Ted said in his mind. Don’t give up on your dreams! Believe and achieve!

  But how? Now, he wished he’d waited to eat the manrunt until he had this figured out. What would Ted say?

  “Believe and achieve”—but he’d been believing all day, and nothing magical had happened. “Just do it”—but that didn’t seem to help, even when he did the squatting and hand thing. “Imagine your best self, then fake it until you make it”—he hadn’t tried that yet.

  He stopped in front of a house where mages were making rainbows to slide down into a huge vat of ale. This was as good a place as any. He closed his eyes and let himself go back to his childhood, where all the world was possibilities and food. He imagined the taste of the mage, let himself feel the excitement. He would fake the magic fermenting inside his guts until he made it real!

  He belched.

  When the thunder of his gaseous outcry ceased, he realized everyone had gone silent. He opened one eye to find them all staring at him.

  Then they all applauded.

  “That was amazing,” a drunken human in a draped sheet said. His friends raised flagons and hollered in agreement. “Get over here and do it again!”

  Gurlurk’s heart skipped as he lumbered to the house. The human who invited him handed him a flagon, and he downed it in one swallow, then belched, earning more cheers and another flagon.

  After his third one, however, he realized there was no magic issuing from his mouth. He scowled at the drink, then at the gaggle of males that surrounded him: humans, elves, a dwarf… They all wore togas, and they all grinned at him expectantly. He looked past them at the banner with the words “Phi Iota Tau Sigma.” Was it a spell? He tried to sound it out.

  “Phi Iota Tau Sigma,” the males cheered and clicked glasses, then drank.

  “It spell?”

  “No!” The dwarf paused to burp, then continued. “It’s us! Phi Iota Tau Sigma, the greatest magical fraternity in HMU and the world!”

  “Huzzah!” his brethren yelled and clicked glasses. The gnome reached so high to touch his to the others that he lost his balance and toppled off the table he’d been standing on and into the vat of ale. The rest broke into song:

  Phi Iota Tau Sigma, May our magic live foreva

  May our friendship long endure

  For magic, friendship is!

  Together, we can all excel

  We plumb the depths of every spell

  Phi Iota Tau Sigma, may our magic carry on.

  Together, Gurlurk included, they dipped their flagons into the vat, fishing out their gnome brother, and they toasted, drank, and belched. Gurlurk sighed contentedly. He had found his tribe.

  “You teach Gurl
urk magic now?” Gurlurk said.

  There was a pause, then laughter.

  “Trolls can’t do magic!”

  And that was when Gurlurk lost his temper.

  On a hill not far from Hermes Magical University, Vurnerrah, a dragon of Faerie, an awe-inspiring creature of fire and might, had splayed out on a hill and was trying to nap.

  It was a nice hill, flat, and bare of trees where a dragon could get the best afternoon sun. And when said dragon was the length of a football field with a wingspan to match, it was not easy to find the perfect hill for sunning. Thus, he was doing everything he could to relax, enjoy the warmth on his scales, and ignore the screams and crashes coming from the university below.

  However, when he heard the gaggle of mortals ascending the hill, grumbling and rolling something with them, he knew his moment of peace had passed. Of course, someone had seen him land, and of course, they wanted some favor.

  He settled himself into a more regal pose and waited, judging their progress by their cursing and vomiting. He hoped it was out of their system by the time they reached the summit. At least, they were coming from downwind.

  Finally, they broke the tree line and paused, wide-eyed. He waited.

  They gathered into a tight knot, debating. He heard, “No, you do it,” in several languages. Someone said something about someone else wanting to be a bard. There was agreement, and one hapless human was thrust from the Circle of Safety. He stumbled toward Vurnerrah, gulped, and with a visible effort to regain his composure, straightened his tunic and fraternity pin and approached, feigning confidence. Vurnerrah gave him points for not soiling himself.

  The human threw his arms wide in supplication. “Oh, great dragon! Great and…”

  “Beautiful,” Vurnerrah prompted.

  “Yes. Uh, beautiful and magnificent. And merciful! We of the Sacred Fraternity of Phi Iota Tau Sigma—”

  “PITS? Are you being hazed?”