Triumph Over Tragedy: an anthology for the victims of Hurricane Sandy

by R. T. Kaelin

  Looking into the distance, I see the towers that comprise the Vanderlinde Academy. A person can stand anywhere in the city and see the towers, especially the highest one the priests told me was used for final testing. I am thankful that Dristin cared enough to make a trip to the academy and make an appointment for my arrival before the Council. In spite of my lengthy incapacitation, I am still within the timeframe in which the mages will accept new apprentices for the upcoming year. Nahum had been very thorough in his preparations for our journey, allowing us more than enough time to make it to Andahye before the first day of Judgment.

  It takes me a while to reach the gates. Two guards stand there, probably more for the sake of appearance than the purpose of security. Certainly the gates are protected by powerful wards that keep everyone out but for those who have been allowed entry. I give the guards my name, as well as the parchment that bears the seal of the Council and the date of my appointment. They nod and allow me passage.

  I slowly walk the path up to the courtyard surrounding the nearest tower. I see a wide variety of trees and shrubs interspersed with beautiful flower gardens comprised mostly of valicas, lirylacs, and rochasia. Benches are situated here and there among the flora. The area emanates a sense of tranquility, and I wonder how much of that is the result of arcane influence. I find the doors of the tower already open as I approach. Either the master mages are expecting potential apprentices, or they always keep the doors open during daylight hours. I don’t hesitate as I walk through. I see an elaborately embossed wooden sign posted inside, one that instructs visitors where to proceed. I think it rather strange, for not everyone knows how to read. Then I figure it out; it is a simple test provided by the mages to ensure they are weeding out those who are unworthy.

  I am fortunate. I have the capacity to read the messages inscribed on the signs and I proceed accordingly. I follow the directions and make the turns necessary in order to reach a set of thick double doors. They are made of solid oak, inlaid with veins of gold and a myriad of jewels to make a complex pattern. Most likely it is part of a protective ward, for it seems runic in design. I step up to the door and hesitate. If it is indeed warded, it might not behoove me to touch it. I glance around, and only then do I see a narrow cord hanging alongside the right door. It reminds me of something that hangs outside a typical inn. When someone arrives in the middle of the night, they have only to pull the cord. It is attached to a bell somewhere inside the establishment. Once hearing it, the inn-keep comes to the door, unlocks it, and allows entry to his patrons.

  I take a leap of faith and pull the cord.

  The massive door silently swings open to reveal a great chamber. A long crimson rug extends down the length of the stone floor, ending at a raised dais. In the center of the dais there are seven mages seated in a semi-circle. Each wears a differently colored robe decorated with elaborate designs. On both sides of the dais are large floor braziers, each containing a robust flame. As I slowly walk down the aisle provided by the rug, I see glowing spheres suspended in midair. They illuminate walls upon which hang magnificent tapestries that depict vast fortresses, sprawling cities, lush forests, and luxuriant gardens. I have never seen anything so awesome, and I wonder what visual delights the rest of the academy has in store.

  I stop before the dais and look at the mages. Most of them are faelin, but I see that one is human, and another might be a half-breed like me. I have noticed that Andahye has a mixed populace of both humans and faelin. Sangrilak also has such a population, but the two races don’t always get along. I have yet to notice that problem here in Andahye; the races seem to co-exist rather well. The men have solemn expressions and regard me intently. My anxiety increases and I try to be discreet while I wipe sweaty palms against my skirt. The mage in the center finally speaks. With canted blue eyes and light yellow hair, he appears to be of savanlean descent. “You must be Adrianna Darnesse.”

  It wasn’t a question, but I answer like it is. “Yes, my lord.”

  “You were escorted here from the city of Sangrilak in the company of one called Nahum Bonparti.”

  “Yes, my lord,” I say again.

  The mage frowns and glances around. “I see only you standing here before us. Are you to say this man is invisible?” he says with a note of sarcasm.

  My cheeks burn. Already I have said something wrong, and Judgment has yet to commence. I shake my head. “Of course not, my lord. I apologize for the confusion. My escort passed away during our journey here.”

  The mage blinks in surprise, obviously never having heard of something such as this before. He quickly collects himself and replies, “Then who was it that made your appointment? A gentleman arrived here not more than a seven-day ago claiming to be with you.”

  I shake my head once more. “Again, I apologize for this confusion my lord. The gentleman about whom you speak is a friend. I was ill for a while after arriving here, and he came to make the appointment for me in Nahum’s stead.”

  The mage adopts a pensive expression. He rubs his fingers over the velvety trim at the neckline of his robes. The other mages are also thoughtful. I feel suddenly forlorn. These men don’t care that a man has died. They don’t care that I have been sick. They are consumed by their greatness, knowing that every talent that stands before them is at their mercy. Only one of the men has an iota of sympathy reflecting in his eyes, the one I earlier noted was human.

  The mage finally gives a nod of acceptance. “All right, then. Why don’t we begin?”

  I blink and struggle to collect myself. The man didn’t bother to offer a word or two of condolence for my loss. This lack of care only deepens my sense of solitude. By the gods, why am I doing this?

  “You have already shown the council that you know how to read simple instructions and that you have adequate sense of the arcane. Before you take the written examination, we require that you show us what you know thus far. You may give us a display of your familiarity and skill with a variety of cantrips. It will give us some idea of your arcane inclination, as well as your potential ability.”

  I nod and swallow heavily. I take several deep breaths in an effort to concentrate. In all honesty, I don’t feel my knowledge of ‘half-spells’ is very good. Nahum was a wise man, but he wasn’t a teacher. It was often difficult for him to describe many of the cantrips, and some of them I stumbled upon by myself. Regardless of this fact, Nahum was convinced that I was a strong talent. He could never explain to me how he knew, just that he did…

  * *** *

  With a light step, I descend the staircase from my chamber into the main keep. I carry a spell-book in one hand, and a papas fruit in the other. I take a bite of the soft pink orb and put a sleeve to my chin as the juices trickle down. The fruit is delicious, and I can’t get enough of it since coming to the keep. The air is chilly, but my new apprentices’ robes keep me warm. They are colored burgundy and gold, the signature combination of Master Daryn Tallek.

  Once at the bottom of the staircase I make my way through the keep to the front door. I grin with anticipation because the master is taking me somewhere new today. Not only that, but for the first time since the mercenary attack, I have been free of nightmares. I was able to sleep through the entirety of the night without awakening and my body feels rejuvenated. For the first time in my life, I am excited about something.

  A seven-day after Judgment, I stood before the Council of Mages. As I looked from one face to the next, I noted that no one exhibited any trace of interest in me. Only the human showed even the smallest bit of emotion, a hint of speculation as he regarded me from dark gray eyes. Ten potential apprentices stood alongside me in the audience chamber, all waiting with tense anticipation. As each name was called, one of the masters spoke out to accept that person as his apprentice, and the tension receded. Finally, the only unclaimed candidate standing there was me.

  “Adrianna Darnesse.”

  I flinched when I heard my name called by the central mage. I’d learned that he was know
n as Master Garsheim and that he presided over the council. I could tell that my name left a bitter taste in his mouth; for some reason he didn’t like me. No one spoke up for me after my name was called. A few moments passed and then he spoke again. “It seems that you have not been deemed worthy for apprenticeship at the Vanderlinde Academy. If you require a synopsis of your testing and scores, you may request a report at a later date. It will be sent to you within a seven-day.”

  I took a deep breath and turned away from the masters, knowing a dismissal when I heard it. My feet were heavy as I began to walk back across the silent chamber to the ornate double doors at the far end. Suddenly a voice cleaved through the air, one that I would never forget as long as I lived. “Wait! Lady Darnesse, I would take you as my apprentice. Please return to the dais!”

  I turned around, my eyes wide. One man stood from among the semi-circle of mages. I slowly made my way back, recognizing him from the color of his robes. It was the human man, the only one I had noted to possess any feeling towards me…

  I swing open the doors of the keep and step outside. The sun is shining, and the day promises to be a good one. Master Tallek is waiting, and his eyes light up when he sees me. He offers a smile and then helps me astride one of the two waiting lloryk. As we ride together down the street, I know how fortunate I am. I will never forget the ones who brought me to this place in my life, and I will never underestimate myself again.

  One day I will be strong, and maybe I will have the capacity to make a difference in other people’s lives. Maybe…

  *

  One Good Deed

  by Bryan Young

  The asteroid designated only as A6572 was an impressive hunk of rock traveling through the Plavo belt on the outer frontier. For the most part, its course was set, but it traveled at the whim of faint tugs in gravity from various heavenly bodies as they passed, or from other, larger asteroids. But who could have foreseen the other asteroid that would clip it gently, altering its trajectory forever?

  A6572 bounced through the crucible of a thousand asteroids until it found itself on an inevitable course of collision with the mining platform run by the workers of the Titania corporation. Those workers and families had no warning that A6572 and the calamity it brought was coming.

  The miners were hard at work, drilling for various space-bound ores at the end of a hundred-meter long transport tube that extended from their ship. It latched on to asteroids like a crane and created a pressurized room in which the miners could work. Fancy communications equipment kept them in constant contact with the rest of the crew of the Titanium Dream VII. The ship was one of a dozen in the Titania fleet that had been sent to the farthest reaches of the galaxy to collect the most exotic and valuable ore. The craft had been beautiful when it was a new addition to the fleet, but that was forty planetary orbits past. These days it was dingy and the hull was scuffed and pockmarked. The pulse engines didn’t burn quite as bright and the various arrays and communications packages didn’t stand as straight or tall as they used to. Though worn, it still housed in comfort the miners and their families of slightly varying species, husbands, wives, and children.

  For them, everything was calm, serene, normal.

  During a night rotation, when the late shift of miners were off ship doing their honest work while their families and the day shift slept cozily in their quarters, A6572 met its fate. The asteroid slammed into the connecting tube, jolting all two hundred people awake and separating the ship from the mine.

  Panic set in.

  The emergency auto-airlocks engaged at both ends of the tube, but things could still get worse. They could get worse if, say, the explosion and leftover debris collided with the emergency transport. Or if the stray bits of metal smashed into the long range communications array, knocking it irreparably out of alignment. Or if there was a crack—or even a pinhole—in the hull. That was pretty much the worst thing, actually, a pressurized environment in space’s vacuum with a hole in the hull.

  Sadly, for those aboard the Titanium Dream, all of it happened. Warning sirens shrieked and klaxons keened. Not a single being aboard remained unfrightened by the explosions or remained unrattled by the cacophony.

  The ship’s calls for help went unheard and fear set in as the situation grew bleak. Understanding the gravity of a situation always adds to the horror of a plight, and the only thing that could extinguish that darkness was the light of hope.

  But who would help them?

  * *** *

  “I hate being so far out. If something happened to us, we’d make the lost in space list faster than anything,” said Bolt, the burly, Dracadian co-pilot.

  “You worry too much,” the pilot, Arianna, shot back. “Besides, we don’t have much of a choice. Anybody who’d be in a position to help us would just throw us in the Keep and take the reward.”

  Bolt harrumphed and his skin shaded from the normal blue and green colors of calm to the reds and oranges of heightened emotion and concern.

  “Stop worrying,” she told him, knowing how difficult it was to deal with a furious, red Dracadian. Bolt’s kind were tall—two meters easy—bulky and muscular.

  “Who says I’m worried?”

  “You don’t have to say it,” Arianna said, nodding at Bolt’s bare chest. Dracadians communicated so much with members of their own species by color that few of them wore shirts unless they were playing games of chance.

  With Bolt’s worry rubbing off on her, Arianna double-checked the dials on her side of the helm, though there wasn’t much to check. Bolt had the yoke, in full control of The Ariannica as they sailed along at the speed of light. He was the only person she trusted with her ship.

  The captain reclined in her pilot’s chair in the cramped cockpit and closed her eyes for a moment’s respite from the stress of life. It lasted only seconds before a warbling hailing signal pierced her reprieve.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “The comm,” deadpanned Bolt.

  “I know that, but who in the name of Maulnar would be hailing us out here?”

  “It’s a distress transponder. Short range. It’s curious, there’s nothing on long range. No response coming in from the big, black void, and no long range mayday going out.”

  Arianna opened her eyes and let the cold, calculating demeanor she imagined a good captain should have wash over her. “What frequency?”

  “Corporate. Emergency station.”

  “If they’re corporate, then the sector authority will be here in a heartbeat. Which means we need to put as much space and time between us and them as possible.”

  “What if we can help?”

  The color of Bolt’s skin warmed again, orange with concern, but there were some lighter hues of yellow and green which she took to mean compassion. Squinting, she might have mistaken him for a muscly pile of spotted, exotic fruit.

  “No matter how much we can help them, it’s not going to help us. If we’re late, Trucker’s going to put a bounty on our heads. And this one will be for dead or alive.”

  “He’ll listen to reason. What if it was him out there?”

  “If it were him, the transponder would be a trap. We’d drop out of the tunnel and he’d take our ship, the cargo and what’s left of our dignity.”

  “But we should at least—”

  “I did mention the bounty would be dead or alive, didn’t I? We’ll have every no good merc in the galaxy on our tail, all because we decided to play Good Samaritan.”

  “We could tell him we had engine trouble.”

  “That’s what Ace told him. And how old is Ace now? Oh yeah, that’s right, he’s dead. It wouldn’t matter if it were the hand of a god that plucked us out of space personally and gave us divine permission, Trucker would still kill us.”

  “I’m willing to take that chance,” Bolt said as he disengaged the light drive and they fell out of the tunnel that was made by the passing stars.

  “Um…what are you doing?”

  “Pl
otting an intercept course with the distress call.”

  “Are you insane? I thought we just went over this. Trucker will kill us and dying is bad.”

  “Dying is bad, I agree. Which is why we need to keep some people from dying if we can…”

  “I’m the captain here. This is mutiny.”

  Bolt looked over to her, “There might be a reward for helping.”

  “A reward, huh?” Arianna murmured, quickly forgetting about the mutiny.

  “Perhaps, but I wouldn’t count on it. In my opinion, it’s always the best policy to help. One day, our luck could run out and we might need the favor returned.”

  “Who can argue with that?” she said, still focused on the reward.

  It didn’t take long for Bolt to latch onto the short range beacon and carefully wind The Ariannica through the turbulent field of rocks and debris. Until a warning whistle cut their concentration.

  “What is it?”

  “Something,” Bolt said calmly, “looks like it’s tracking with an asteroid or something.”

  “Tracking with?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Is it attached?”

  “I’ve got nothing on visual yet, so I don’t know.”

  The Ariannica banked and weaved through the floating rocks, drawing closer and closer to the moment that would give them an answer.

  They drifted through the black, stone covered backdrop until they saw it: a massive asteroid rolling toward them, spinning end over end. Arianna gasped as she spotted the shattered remains of a claw arm and work dome, smashed up and severed from the rest of its ship.

  A tiny stream of white gas vented through a pinhole in the gnarled wreckage, located on the battered tube that once connected them to their mother ship.

  “They’re losing oxygen.”

  “I can see that.”