The Crystal College

by Nathaniel Sullivan

  The teachers do not teach—they preach and expect the students to unthinkingly repeat what they’ve been preached. No arguments, no questioning, and no deviation from the norm. Is that learning? The students do not seek knowledge—they seek a paper falsely stating that they have achieved knowledge—a certificate of graduation. They do not have kind hearts with open minds here, they have petty squabbles and eager bodies looking to dominate, impress, or impregnate. Are these truly my peers?

  I am quickly feeling disillusioned with my time at the college. Although I have only spent three years here, it has felt a lifetime. A lifetime of suffering and slow, repetitive mental torture at the hands of unthinking assignments. It is far worse than any physical hardships I faced back in my turbulent homeland. Perhaps I made a mistake.

  Was I not meant to come here?

  Did I interpret Marr’s wisdom incorrectly?

  I wish I knew. I wonder if it is too late for me to go back…

  —The Journal of Nandor, College Years

  A mass of students and teachers rushed to meet the grandmaster at the college crystal gates. Nix was in the crowd, trying to break free and get a better look.

  Grandmaster Forojen was an old man. In his seventies at least, but there was a supernatural power about him, and it kept his bones and muscles as strong and true as any young man. He still had wrinkles of age and the silver hair that comes with it, but he did not look doddering or feeble. He looked like a man of action, ready for anything.

  His long robes were blue and red, royal and shimmering with the gleam of some subtle enchantment. She often wondered what enchantment he had crafted into his robes. Perhaps it was an illusion, to make him appear healthier than he was. Or perhaps it was a protection spell, to protect him from harm. Either way, it was rumored to be something powerful indeed. Forojen had mastered all six realms of study, and was currently considered to be the most talented master at the college by far. Perhaps he was even the most talented to ever grace the college.

  But being a strong and talented leader did not make him wise, or insightful.

  Nix feared him. He might not have been the one who created the hostile environment that plagued the college, but he allowed it. Or tolerated it at the least. Either way, she was not sure she liked him.

  They had only met once, back when she was applying for the college, and the council had to review her submission. He had given her the winning vote that allowed her to enter the college with meager funds, but was it out of altruism, or had he sensed some power within her? Some power that he wished to contain within the college walls…

  Regardless, she needed to speak with him. Her only hope of finding Nandor was in receiving help from the grandmaster.

  Once the gates were safely shut at his heels, he raised his hands to silence the crowd, and then he spoke to the audience. “What you all have heard is true. Our city and our contract of battle to determine who should receive the forest was betrayed by Lady Mikja and Lord Grimbone. For the foreseeable future, the Green Forest is in the hands of Norda, and Winfrost. Our city of Froj will have to fend for itself.”

  The crowd fell silent, digesting his words with heavy hearts. Everyone already knew what he was saying was true, but now it somehow felt even more real. He continued, “But, as you all know, we are quite capable of defending ourselves. For a hundred years we have survived without a green forest to keep us fed, and I see no reason for us to go hungry now that we must go on a little longer. We will survive this hardship, and we will continue to grow.”

  Nix wondered if he had given a similar speech to the commoners in the city. It was a good one. Probably made people feel somewhat reassured. Nix certainly didn’t, but she had never been like most people.

  “We have yet to appoint a new leader to the city. There are several people vying for the position. One of our own headmasters, Benjfrost, is currently leading a campaign to elect himself as the new lord.” There was scattered applause at the announcement. Nix felt queasy. Benjfrost as Lord of Froj? Please, anyone but him… “Although the population wished for me to run for election as well, I have decided to stay dedicated primarily to the college, and its lessons and teachings. I assure you all, each student—your training will continue, and we will need you more than ever. But, to the best of my abilities, I will also help with the election, and to guide the city in these uncertain times. It won’t be easy, but together we can rebuild Froj, and become stronger than ever. We will survive.”

  He ended his speech, and walked towards the courtyard. The teachers and headmasters swarmed around him, and he waved for them to follow at his side. “Yes, we will host a private meeting soon,” he assured them. “I’ll have my assistant inform you when to meet in my quarters. In the meantime, keep the peace. If everything goes well, our studies will resume shortly. But the important thing is that we stay strong.”

  Nix followed them like a shadow, trying her best to stay both close enough to listen and far enough out of their way to be ignored. She was waiting for an opportunity. If she could get Forojen alone, perhaps he would be more approachable.

  She ducked behind crystal pillars lining the courtyard and continued her silent mission. It appeared that the grandmaster was headed towards his private quarters, up by the museum, near the height of the mountain.

  “But what do we do about the food shortages? Even at half ration our supplies will dwindle fast…” one of the teachers asked.

  “Yes! We can’t afford to keep handing out food for free. Most of the wealthy farmer lords left Froj—half of our ice fields and woolly sheep and mammoth farms are now in possession of either Winfrost or Norda. As if they needed the extra food now that they have the green land to grow crops!” another teacher said, clearly frustrated.

  Grandmaster Forojen waved aside their concerns. “Keep the students fed. It may be hard, but without full bellies on our side our task will be even harder. We must keep our people fed, particularly those in the college. I’ll figure something out, even if I have to purchase new farmlands myself.”

  Nix huffed to herself, somewhat impressed. Forojen certainly seemed to care.

  She continued to follow in the shadows, stalking him like a wolf. So focused was she in her task that she did not even notice when a voice spoke from behind.

  “Nix? What are you doing?” It was Dobry, the small scholar. He was watching the headmasters talk from behind a particularly dark crystal pillar. His long brown hair was cut around his cheeks, and he almost looked cute in the flickering moon light. For the first time she noticed that despite being a graduate, he was only a few years older than herself. He must have been a fast learner.

  “Same as you, I imagine,” Nix replied, trying not to look too startled. “Listening to learn what’s going on.”

  Dobry scoffed, and did not appear convinced. “No—I see what you’re doing. You’re trailing them. Bit of a difference. What’s your plan? I’ve heard you questioning people all day, are you trying to question Forojen too?” Nix hesitated, surprised at how much the scholar had guessed, and then Dobry twisted his head, looking even more cynical. “I think he has some more important things on his mind than whatever you want to pester him about.”

  Nix quickly shook her head. “Look—you wouldn’t understand. Nandor was recently appointed to be the new headmaster of elemental studies… b-before…” her voice trailed off.

  “Before he died,” Dobry finished for her. “Yes. I’d heard about that. Strange. I always liked the man, but would have never pegged him for headmaster material.”

  She turned on him, and clenched her right fist. An unexplainable amount of anger rushed to her head. “I’m not convinced he’s dead,” she spat. “And if he is still alive, then it is our duty to find and help him. That is why I wish to speak with the grandmaster. I’ll need his help.”

  A dark look fell upon Dobry. “I heard about the duel. They say he was cut to the spine. Cleft nearly in two. He couldn’t survive that.”

  “You don’t know him
as well as I.”

  In an instant, Dobry’s face turned from skepticism, to compassion. If he had been a little bolder, he might have put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Instead, he simply looked away, and spoke softer, “That is true. And I didn’t witness the duel either. Perhaps the men have exaggerated his injuries. If you have reason to believe he’s alive, perhaps you are right, and his disappearance should be investigated.”

  “I wasn’t seeking your approval, Dobry. I’m not going to stop searching for Nandor, and I’m going to question as many people as I can. Even the grandmaster himself.” And with that, she turned to continue trailing the headmasters.

  To her surprise, Dobry leapt from the pillar and walked beside her.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed.

  “Don’t look a gift mammoth in the tusk. I’m helping.”

  Nix considered waving him away, but on second thought having Dobry by her side wasn’t such a bad thing. It added validity to her mission. While Dobry was not a teacher, he was an administrative assistant, and quite well-known throughout the college. Perhaps his reputation would cause people to take her questions seriously.

  Together, they watched as Forojen assured one teacher after another, and then bade them all to give him some peace. “I will answer all of your questions at the morning meeting. I know we have much to discuss, but please, be understanding, and don’t panic. I’ve had a long day, and need some rest.”

  The teachers nodded and began to depart, and Forojen entered his private house. It wasn’t a small dwelling, but compared to the massive buildings on the college grounds, it appeared small.

  Nix rushed forward to go confront Forojen, but Dobry caught her hand. “Give it a moment,” he advised. Reluctantly, she waited.

  After several minutes had passed, Nix began to lose her patience. “Why are we waiting?”

  Dobry looked at her and gave a knowing smile. “After a long day, a man needs a little bit of time to unwind. Trust me. He’ll be more receptive if we wait a while.”

  “I suppose you would know him better,” she agreed, and for the next half hour they stood awkwardly in the fading twilight.

  At last, Dobry nodded, “Alright. Should be good now. Let’s go knock.”

  Nix released a sigh of relief and they walked up to Frojen’s home.

  The door swung open before she even had a chance to knock. The grandmaster of the college stood before them, looking very regal.

  Her eyes widened in surprise and she nearly jumped, but Dobry only smiled and spoke quickly. “Grandmaster Forojen, forgive our intrusion,” he said.

  “Oh, there’s nothing to forgive. I’ve been expecting you for a while,” the grandmaster smiled back. He looked warm in that moment, like a kindly father. He waved them both inside. “Please, come in, come in. I imagine you have questions.”

  At his beckoning, they were both swept inside and Nix nearly gasped at the beauty of the entryway. Crystalline furniture and moon-gem lights illuminated the room with both warmth and comfort. Magic irradiated from all directions, setting her hair on ends and overstimulating her ethereal senses. There was a central fireplace built into the stairway leading upwards, and a small, refined elemental conductor placed beside it—a powerful weapon, in the right hands. She did not have to guess to know that Forojen knew how to use it.

  The grandmaster continued talking, as if he had not noticed her marveling at his every possession. “The headmasters and the teachers have such basic worries.” He sighed, “Mind you—important, but basic. I already know that there will be food shortages if we don’t act swiftly. I already know that we lost half of our students and over half of our funds within two days. I already know that many of the headmasters themselves are considering fleeing the city in hopes of begging a position from the other two clockwork cities. But they squawk and pester me all the same, as if worrying more will somehow make the hardships any easier. Haha,” he walked to a central glowing crystal table, and offered them both a seat made of clear glass. “I suspect you two have a more… how should I put it?” He examined them both with the radiant eyes of a powerful mystic. “…A more interesting problem to discuss. Am I correct?”

  Nix did not answer immediately. Her head was still swimming through the room, the lights, the reflecting crystal, the soft haze of pleasant smelling incense—This, she thought, this is the place of a true magician.

  Dobry spoke before she could gather her thoughts. “Right as always. Nixie here has quite the quest thrust on her shoulders.”

  Both sets of eyes shifted to her. “Ummm… yes,” she mumbled.

  “Ah, Nix. I recall you. Or do you prefer Nixie?” Forojen wondered.

  “Um—either is fine.”

  The grandmasters eyes glowed—or perhaps it was just a reflection from one of the many crystal lights. “Both are names you use, but neither actually belongs to you… interesting. I always suspected there was more to your story than you let on…” He leaned over the table, further piercing into her eyes. “You have an interesting story to tell, don’t you? Something to do with… Nandor?”

  Is he reading my mind? Powerful mystics could read careless thoughts without a physical connection, but to do it so casually? She felt unnerved. “Yes. I believe Nandor might still be alive.”

  “Ah. You were on the battlefield, weren’t you? I was too, although I merely observed from afar. I am sorry you saw such death. Lady Mikja and Lord Grimbone were cruel on that day, as were the swings of Lord Viken. I never liked the man. Far too brutish and brash, but he was our lord. Nandor should have known better than to challenge him to a duel.”

  “Nandor was the only one trying to bring peace!” Heat rose to her head.

  “No.” Forojen said the word powerfully. There was not a shred of cruelty in his tone, but neither was there any uncertainty. “He was not the only one. He was merely the most noticeable. And the most stubborn.”

  Nix had no reply. What was he suggesting?

  “Bah. This tension ill-suits me.” The grandmaster raised his hand, and the lights of the room changed color, somehow relaxing them both. “Let us not dwell on what happened. Tell me what you seek.”

  “I seek Nandor.”

  “His body disappeared from you?”

  “Yes.”

  “The healer suspects it was the work of Marr?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you doubt him?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Why?”

  She paused, “Because the god of Marr does not exist. It is a fairy tale fantasy. There has to be another explanation for his disappearance.”

  “So, you think that something more practical happened? Or are you holding onto a fantasy of your own.”

  “I—”

  “His wounds—they were not getting better, were they?”

  “Well—no.”

  “His breathing was faint, and the healer said he was dying, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, therefore you have no reason to think him alive, and yet you still hold on to the hope that he is. So, truly, are you any more reasonable in your belief than the healer is in his?”

  Suddenly Nix had no more appetite for Forojen’s mind games. “Look,” she nearly growled. “I’m searching for Nandor because Nandor’s body disappeared without explanation. He may be alive or he may be dead. Either way, I owe him my life, and I’ll not stop looking until I find him. So you can either help me or keep wasting my time. Do you understand?”

  Dobry looked from Forojen to Nix and gulped.

  They were bold words to speak to the grandmaster of the college. A man who could banish a student with a wave of his hand, and likely do worse with his magic if he wished it. But to their surprise, Forojen merely laughed.

  “Well said,” he clapped. “And forgive my probing. You must understand—I have little tricks I like to play to examine new students. It helps me to gage their temperaments, and their understanding. But you did well, you did well,” he nodded, an
d then lowered his hand to the table. “And yes, I will help you, as best as I am able, although I must confess, I don’t know anything of Nandor’s disappearance. It is as strange to me as it is to you. For all I know, it could have been Marr’s work. Although, like yourself, I highly doubt it.”

  “Then you’ll help me get to the bottom of it?” Nix asked.

  “Yes. As much as I am able. If Nandor has somehow managed to survive, I certainly suspect we could use a man like him in the coming days. What do you need?”

  “I—” Nix hesitated, unsure. How could the grand headmaster help with Nandor’s mysterious disappearance? She felt his eyes pierce through her. Did he sense her uncertainty? She would not put it passed him. So far, he had guessed everything in her mind with shocking accuracy, without so much as a flutter of physical connection. But she needed something good—something that would give her a place to start in her search, at least. She recalled her previous ventures with Nandor, and her eyes fell in momentary melancholy. The dog—Goldie—Crazy Ermont… Suddenly she realized what she needed. “—I suppose what would help me the most… that is to say, the only item I can think of to do the trick is rather… rare? Do you understand?”

  The grandmaster nodded knowingly. “I suspect I do. What do you seek?”

  She gathered up her breath, and crossed her fingers in vain. “An aura detector,” she huffed, wearing her gamble plain as day on her sleeve. It was her only hope, and she knew it.

  “Ah,” Forojen’s face grew serious. “Now I see why you were uncertain. Headmaster Wagfrost died several years ago, and you seek his greatest creation. An object of which he only made eight.”

  “Actually, he only ever made four,” Nix met his eyes, as she repeated the words Nandor had told her. “Only four properly, that is.”

  Forojen’s frown grew into a smile. “That’s right. It took him a while to perfect his technique, didn’t it?”