Nightmare Academy

by Dean Lorey

  “You are what’s known as Noobs,” the Headmaster continued. “That stands for ‘Newbie.’ Eventually, with training, you will advance to become Addys, meaning ‘adequate.’ Finally, once you have demonstrated a significant amount of skill, you will be known as Leets, meaning ‘elite.’ But for now you are Noobs, and Noobs you will remain for some time.”

  The Headmaster waved her hand. A portal opened in the middle of the air and Theodore fell through it, screaming, to land with a crash on his bench. The Headmaster dismissed the portal and continued as if nothing had happened. “As you may know, you will be trained as either a Nethermancer or a Banisher, depending on where your skill in the Gift lies.”

  “Hey, lady,” Theodore blurted, obviously shaken. “Do you know that you put me into the Nether?”

  “Yes,” she said, and waved her hand.

  Another portal opened beneath Theodore and he fell screaming, once again, into the Nether. The Headmaster dismissed the portal and continued.

  “Today, we will determine which discipline your training will focus on. Some of you will leave here on the rocky road to becoming a Banisher; others will head down the prickly path to Nethermancy. They are both equally noble and equally difficult to master. We will begin with you, Ms. Sweet. Are you ready?”

  The gigantic banyan tree swayed gently in the wind. From somewhere off in the jungle, a bird screeched.

  Suddenly, Violet jumped up. “You mean me?” she said.

  “Your name is Violet Sweet, is it not?”

  “Yes, Headmaster. I’m just not used to being called Ms. Sweet, that’s all.”

  “Get used to it,” the Headmaster said. “I will address all of you as Mr. and Ms. from now on. One, because I think you secretly enjoy it. Two, because even though this appears to be just a school, we are, in fact, involved in quite serious business. We are training you to fight a war, ladies and gentlemen. A war that may involve casualties. If you are old enough to put your lives on the line in the service of a cause greater than yourselves, you are also old enough for me to treat you as adults and to expect adult behavior from you. So, once again, I ask: Are you ready, Ms. Sweet?”

  “Yes, Headmaster,” she said.

  “Excellent. Step forward.”

  As Violet walked toward her, the Headmaster waved her hand, opening a portal in midair. Once again, Theodore dropped through it and crashed into the benches below with a painful yelp.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Dagget. You’ve arrived just in time to watch Ms. Sweet determine her future path.”

  “That really hurt,” Theodore said.

  “What a pity,” the Headmaster replied. With another wave of her hand, a large portal snapped open beside her. Theodore flinched involuntarily. “Ladies and gentlemen, please follow Ms. Sweet and me into the Nether. Her—and your—destinies await.”

  Moments later, after stepping through the portal, Charlie found himself standing in a field of fragrant yellow flowers that led to a cobalt blue lake as still and reflective as a mirror. The lake was nestled in a wooded glen of crisp-smelling pine trees and was surrounded on all sides by mountainous walls that rose so high, he couldn’t see beyond them. The area was lovely and protected and, most of all, hidden.

  “Wow,” he murmured.

  “Indeed,” the Headmaster said as the last of the students stepped through the portal. With a quick wave of her hand, she dismissed it. “Though most of the Nether is dangerous and ugly, there are pockets, like this one, that defy expectation. We are, right now, in the 3rd ring. It is a mountainous region, full of creatures not to be trifled with, but this secret glen—[ ]tucked away on its border—is uninhabited and always has been. There are no creatures of the Nether here…save one. One very important one.”

  The Headmaster turned to Violet.

  “Ms. Sweet, if you look carefully, you’ll see that there are a series of stepping-stones that will take you out to the very center of the lake.”

  Violet looked and saw a line of white stones that led to a small rock in the middle. “I see them,” she said.

  “Excellent. You are to walk to the center of the lake and declare yourself. You will shout out either ‘I am a Banisher!’ or ‘I am a Nethermancer!’”

  “But how do I pick which one?” she asked. “I have no idea what I am.”

  “Simply say what you feel,” the Headmaster answered. “Say what you think is true.”

  “Okay,” Violet said. “And what will happen then?”

  “Then,” the Headmaster replied with a twinkle in her eye, “we will discover if you are correct. Go on, please.” She gestured to the lake.

  With a nervous glance at the rest of the students, Violet walked to the water’s edge. The stepping-stones that broke the surface were small and uneven and she had to steady herself more than once as she leaped across them, heading to the very center of the lake. After arriving on the white weathered rock in the middle, she looked down into the dark water, searching for movement, for any sign of something alive in there, but the water was as still as glass and reflected the sheer mountain walls surrounding them, making it impossible to see through.

  “Let’s go, Ms. Sweet,” the Headmaster yelled. “Declare yourself!”

  As much as Violet had argued with Theodore that girls could be Banishers just as well as guys, she knew in her heart that her destiny lay down a different path.

  “I am a Nethermancer!” she shouted.

  Her words echoed off the still lake and reverberated from the walls of the canyon with shocking intensity, startling her. Soon the echoes faded and, once again, there was silence. Violet glanced around uncomfortably at the dark water. It was still and glassy.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  And that was when a giant trout leaped from the lake in an explosion of water. It was the size of a school bus, this trout, and its glistening skin was speckled with spots of red and gray and green. It arced across the rock that Violet stood on, scooped her into its wide, clammy mouth, and crashed back into the cold water on the far side, instantly disappearing from view. The lake rocked and rippled violently as the students stared in shock.

  Violet and the giant trout that had swallowed her were gone.

  “Wha…what was that?” Theodore finally gasped, his jaw hanging open like a broken hinge.

  “That,” the Headmaster replied, “was the Trout of Truth.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE TROUT OF TRUTH

  “Where is she?” Charlie asked with growing panic. “Where’s Violet?! It’s not just gonna eat her, is it?”

  Just then, the Trout burst from the water near the flowery bank and, with a wet, gurgling sound, spit Violet from its mouth. She flew through the air, spinning and tumbling like a rag doll, before finally landing in a tangled clump of arms and legs at the Headmaster’s feet. The Trout slipped back under the water and was soon gone from view.

  Charlie ran toward Violet and helped her to her feet. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I…I don’t know,” she said shakily, wiping slime and algae from her face. She was absolutely drenched in the disgusting ooze.

  “Congratulations, Ms. Sweet,” the Headmaster said. “You are a Banisher.”

  “How do you know?” Violet asked, squeezing goo from her long hair.

  “Because, of all the creatures in the Nether, only the Trout is able to precisely determine whether or not someone is telling the truth. And, as you have just witnessed, it absolutely will not tolerate an untruth on its lake. It will remove the source of the untruth immediately.”

  “But I didn’t lie,” Violet protested.

  “No, not knowingly,” the Headmaster said. “You claimed that you were a Nethermancer and I’m sure you believed in your heart that you were, but the Trout has found that to be untrue. Consequently, we know that if you are not a Nethermancer, then you must be a Banisher.”

  “But are you sure the Trout is always right?” Violet asked. “I’m not much of a fighter.”

  “You wi
ll be,” the Headmaster assured her. “The Trout has never been wrong.” She turned to another student. “Mr. Ramirez, please step out to the center of the lake. Let’s see what the future holds for you.”

  Alejandro Ramirez, a stocky twelve-year-old, made his way out to the rock. “I am…a Nethermancer,” he said softly, glancing around nervously at the still water.

  There was no response from the Trout.

  “Excellent, Mr. Ramirez,” the Headmaster said. “Seeing as how you were not swallowed alive, what you said must have been the truth, although I would have appreciated a little more forcefulness from your declaration. Congratulations, you are our first Nethermancer of the day.” As Alejandro rushed back to the group, clearly thankful that he didn’t have to get swallowed by the Trout, the Headmaster turned to another kid. “Mr. Favrutti, step up.”

  It went on like this for almost an hour.

  Nearly twenty kids declared themselves to the Trout and roughly half of them were right. The other half were immediately swallowed by the giant fish and then spit up upon the shore like a discarded wad of gum. Charlie was somewhat surprised to discover that Violet had been correct when she said that the job of Banisher was evenly split between boys and girls. The same was true of Nethermancers—neither job seemed to favor one sex over the other.

  Finally, it was Theodore’s turn to face the Trout. “Yes!” he said, and nearly sprinted up to the Headmaster. “My dad was a Banisher. Did you know that?”

  She nodded. “I remember your father. He was extremely bright and often very annoying. You remind me of him. How is he?”

  “Good, I guess,” Theodore said. “He’s off somewhere fighting Nethercreatures. He’s not allowed to tell us where. It’s a black op. Op is short for operation, and a black op means—”

  “I know what it means,” the Headmaster interrupted. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

  “Definitely,” Theodore said. “I can’t wait for my dad to come back from the black op so I can tell him I’m going to be a Banisher, just like him.” He quickly skipped across the stones to stand on the rock in the very center of the lake. He cleared his throat and shouted as loudly and proudly as he could, “I am a Banisher!”

  The water was still.

  “See,” Theodore said, turning to the shore. “Told you.”

  And that was when the Trout leaped from the lake and swallowed Theodore whole. Moments later, he found himself flying through the air and landing in an ungraceful clump in front of the Headmaster.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Dagget,” she said as Theodore struggled to his feet, shaky as a newborn fawn. “You are not a Banisher. The Trout has shown us that you are a Nethermancer.”

  “Wrong,” Theodore said, spitting slime from his mouth.

  “Excuse me?” the Headmaster replied, raising a single eyebrow.

  “No offense, ma’am, but the Trout is wrong. Definitely wrong. No way I’m a Nethermancer.”

  “The Trout is never wrong,” the Headmaster shot back. “It is you who are wrong, Mr. Dagget.”

  “Look, I’m not saying the Trout intentionally screwed up. I’m just saying it made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. It can’t be right every time, right? It’s just a dumb fish.”

  “Well, if you’re so certain,” the Headmaster replied, “you’re welcome to try again.”

  “Definitely,” Theodore said, and stomped back out to the middle of the lake. He arched his back and shouted to the sky, “I am a Banisher!”

  It took less than twenty seconds for the Trout to leap out of the water, swallow him, and spit him back up on shore. Once again, Theodore struggled to his feet.

  “There’s something wrong with that Trout,” he said. “Maybe it’s sick.”

  “The Trout is not sick,” the Headmaster replied.

  “Then maybe it’s old or tired or something. I’m telling you, I can’t be a Nethermancer. It’s an IS—an impossible situation! Every guy in my family was a Banisher!”

  “I’m sorry,” the Headmaster said, clearly beginning to lose her patience. “I know you wanted to be a Banisher, but you are, in fact, a Nethermancer.”

  “No,” Theodore said. “That Trout is screwed up, plain and simple. You have a defective Truth Trout!”

  “It has spoken twice.”

  “Then it’s been wrong two times! Maybe it just needs one more chance to realize I’m right.” And, with that, he turned and sprinted back to the center of the lake. “I am a Banisher!” he shouted, his words echoing loudly across the canyon walls.

  The Trout jumped from the lake and swallowed him instantly.

  Charlie turned to Violet. “How many times do you think he’s going to do this before he gives up?”

  “Four,” she said without hesitation.

  “I think five,” Charlie replied.

  Incredibly, it took seven.

  Seven times Theodore was swallowed by the Trout of Truth before, reeking of fish and covered in slime, he finally gave up—but not happily.

  “Stupid Trout,” he said, kicking at the flowers on shore as he struggled once again to his feet.

  “Mr. Dagget,” the Headmaster said with a touch of weariness, “just accept that you are a Nethermancer. It is an extremely honorable vocation, no more or less noble than being a Banisher, and you may as well start getting used to it.”

  “I’ll never get used to it,” Theodore said as he stomped off angrily, grumbling about “unfair trout” and “dumb fish” and “just one more chance.”

  The Headmaster turned to the rest of the students. “That concludes orientation,” she said. “We will now return to the Nightmare Academy and you will meet with Housemistress Rose to get your schedule and syllabus.”

  “Headmaster?” Charlie said, raising his hand. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I haven’t had my turn yet.”

  “Ah, Mr. Benjamin. I believe your adventures the previous night have already shown us your path. Anyone able to create a portal to the Inner Circle is clearly a Nethermancer. A Banisher would not have the aptitude to do such a thing.”

  “Oh, okay,” Charlie said.

  “Hey!” Alejandro Ramirez yelled. “All the rest of us had to face the Trout. Why does he get off so easy?”

  “Because, as I said, we already know his path,” the Headmaster replied.

  “I guess. It just doesn’t seem fair,” he moaned.

  “He’s right,” Charlie said, not wanting to set himself apart from the group. “I should take a turn.”

  Moments later, Charlie stood on the rock in the middle of the lake. He could feel a chill breeze emanating from the cold water, which seemed to be quite deep, as well—how else could it contain a creature as large as the Trout of Truth?

  Charlie closed his eyes, took a breath, and finally shouted, “I am a Nethermancer!”

  As expected, there was no movement from the Trout. Charlie had spoken the truth. He breathed a sigh of relief, then started walking back toward shore. “You were right,” he called out to the Headmaster as he skipped from one stone to the next. “I’m not a Banisher.”

  As soon as he said it, the Trout exploded from the water and clamped its clammy lips around Charlie, sealing him in stinking, wet darkness. He was thrown violently around the slimy insides of the ancient creature as it crashed back into the water, swimming to shore. Moments later, daylight blinded Charlie as the Trout spit him out of its innards. He twirled and tumbled high into the air before finally slamming back down onto the hard ground of the field.

  The students stared in amazement.

  “Are you okay?” Violet asked, rushing to him.

  “Yeah,” Charlie said, getting to his feet. “I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

  “Because it doesn’t make any sense!” Theodore shouted. “See, I told you that Trout’s gone wacko! It agreed with him when he said he was a Nethermancer, but it called him a liar when he said he wasn’t a Banisher. That’s definitely wrong—you can’t be a Nethermancer and a Banisher!”


  “That’s true,” the Headmaster said quietly. “Unless you’re a Double-Threat.”

  The students glanced at one another.

  “What’s that?” Violet asked.

  “A person who can both Banish and Nethermance. They’re quite rare, actually—maybe one born every twenty or thirty years.” The Headmaster turned to Charlie. “You certainly are full of surprises, Mr. Benjamin.”

  Charlie was speechless.

  One born every twenty or thirty years.

  Most people would have been flattered to be something so special, but to Charlie, it sounded as if she were talking about some mutant two-headed calf or a freakish eel that could walk on land. He had always felt like an outcast. Now he felt like an outcast times two.

  “Outrageous!” Theodore exclaimed. “Charlie the Double-Threat! Charlie the DT!”

  “Don’t call me that,” Charlie muttered. He was discovering that Theodore could usually be counted on to be enthusiastic about the wrong things.

  “Hey, Headmaster,” Theodore continued. “What about you? Are you one of those Double-Threats? Are you a DT?”

  “Don’t call me that,” she said. “And to answer your question, yes, I am what’s known as a Double-Threat, but it’s not nearly as grand a thing as it seems. It’s true that I can both Banish and Nethermance, but not at the same time. They are entirely different skills and each of them requires such focus and concentration that it is simply impossible to perform both tasks at once.”

  “Oh,” Theodore said, disappointed. “That’s like having an Aston Martin and a Ferrari—they’re nice, but you can only drive one at a time. What’s the point?”

  “The point,” she said, “is that variety is the spice of life and I prefer my life very spicy.” She then created a portal that opened back onto the top deck of the Nightmare Academy. “We’re done for today. Class dismissed.”