The Crystal College

by Nathaniel Sullivan

  Was it honestly worth it? Trying to reason with the unreasonable?

  “The world runs on conflict,” The bot appeared to read his mind, its steady gaze never leaving his. “Violence, domination—if you are unwilling to do these things, you will never arise into a position where you can change anything at all. If my two hundred years have taught me anything, it’s that.”

  Suddenly the door from the living quarters burst open, and Nix greeted them. There was an overwhelming smell of sweetened fragrances. Her hair was brushed and twisted on several ends into long white braids, and it suitably framed her flushed face. “Oy! It’s a cold morning!” she exclaimed, pulling her blue coat closer to her body.

  Nandor agreed. “Colder than it should be, I think. The gears below the city must be neglected. I can’t even hear them running, and there is hardly a puff of steam in the sky.”

  “It is only the beginning of the fall of Froj,” Dorin solemnly said. “The talented workers have fled. Only the poor and unskilled remain.”

  “We’ll just have to do something about that. Everyone ready?”

  Nix and Dorin nodded. “But what do you plan to do, sir?”

  “Speak with Forojen first. He lied to me about when the war started, and he has some explaining to do. Then, depending on his response, there are several more debts I have to settle. Lady Mikja’s and Lord Grimbone’s betrayal being chief among them. If they wish to stay greedy and claim the Green Forest for themselves, then they’ll have my wrath to face.” He winked at Dorin. “And this time, like you said, I won’t fight with one hand tied behind my back. I’ll do whatever is necessary.”

  “Good for you, sir!” the bot cheered.

  Nix did not appear to know how to interpret his response. But at last, she said, “As long as we can help Froj, I’m with you.”

  And with that, they headed to the grandmasters home.

  Chapter 20: Cleansing

  Goblins dwell everywhere. They are the terror of our times. The monsters in the light.

  Their expansion is vast and endless. Their reproduction is fast, and their wits are surprisingly substantial. Kingdoms in the great beyond often fall to their ruin at the vile creatures’ hands. So quick are their travels and so fast do they spread that it is suspected that they have learned how to travel through even the most treacherous of morphic ice, a feat that no human has accomplished in a great many years, ever since the great beyond has turned too cold and treacherous.

  Thankfully, for the moment, there is only one known goblin city in the undergrounds of the Crystal South, in the far northwest. The land surrounding the city are vile. The snow is darkened, the trees are twisted and ill-colored, and even the sky seems to be perpetually greyed, as if some fog rises from underneath the ground and pollutes it.

  No human has ever visited the city and survived. Civilized men from the clockwork cities avoid even the surrounding goblin territories at all cost. The lands are often called the Realm of Doom.

  Goblins, on the other hand, have been interrogated extensively about their city, and the lands above. Those who are captured and tortured rarely divulge any tangible information—they are stubborn and spiteful creatures, but those who can be broken, call their land Grâ Baile, or, in translation, Loving Homeland.

  If the goblin city in the Crystal South is, indeed, the homeland for all goblins nearby, it causes one to wonder how long we have before they gather and attack, or if they are just biding their time.

  —Common Knowledge Volume II

  The Grandmaster greeted the three companions just outside of his house, and there was something of a crowd gathered around.

  “I suppose he heard of our arrival…” Nandor muttered.

  “You think? Three people barging into the college screaming and yelling throughout the night drew attention to us? Imagine that,” Nix sarcastically whispered at his side.

  “Not all of us can be as cool and collected as you,” Nandor returned her tone. “Pretty outfit, by the way. Remind me how you got it?”

  She glared upwards, but said nothing. There was a new edge in his voice that there wasn’t before, as if he was willing to go as far as necessary to prove a point. He was no longer the wondering nomad, eager only for peace and happiness. He was growing confident in his new mindset.

  He embraced it.

  Before them, Grandmaster Forojen held up his arms high, and beamed from ear to ear, so that none would mistake his joy. “Nandor!” he proclaimed, loud enough for all to hear. “I am thrilled that you are still among the living!”

  Nandor walked up to the porch, and they embraced in a hug. “Likewise, Grandmaster. It was touch and go for a while, but my friends helped me to recover. I am grateful to them all.” He nodded at Nix and Dorin.

  Forojen looked from him to Nix, noting that there was one person missing. “We have much to discuss, I imagine,” he nodded, and spoke softer, no longer his cheerful self. Then, he addressed the small crowd of students and teachers. “Nandor and I will be in a private meeting for the next hour. Do not disturb us under any circumstances. We go to speak of the future of our city, and our college. With the help of this man on our side,” he tapped Nandor’s shoulder, “We will surely arise back into greatness. This is a good thing, my friends! A very good thing indeed! I can already feel the winds shifting into our favor!”

  With his inspirational words spoken, Forojen opened the door to his home, and beckoned Nandor, Nix, and Dorin inside.

  Nandor had seen the inside of Forojen’s magnificent house many times, but that didn’t take away from the wonder it held in the slightest. Outside, it was a cold, blue day. Chilly even when properly dressed, with occasional bursts of swooping wind diving over the walls. But inside the house, it was a perfect, ideal temperature. It was neither too dark nor too bright, beautiful moon-gems collected from crashed meteors lit-up the rooms in sparkles of different colors, and there was a light mist from burning incense that smelled of warmer days. Several of the objects on display throughout the entrance were valued indeed—mystic life stones, infinite in their knowledge, enchanted weapons, and gems, and ancient books translated for modern times.

  They took a seat at his meeting table, and the lights grew brighter from a wave of the grandmaster’s hand. His clever eyes gleamed through the light, and examined Nandor, piercing through his body.

  Nandor felt a constant probing poking around in the corners of his mind, and he disliked it to a great degree. Although a powerful elementalist, he was largely unskilled in the ways of mystics, and he distrusted any magic that tried to dig inside his brain.

  Perhaps his anger showed, for the probing stopped as quickly as it had begun, and Forojen broke the silence. “Forgive me, Nandor. I did not mean to pry inside you. You have to understand, when a mystic becomes as powerful as I have become, it is second nature to try to glimpse into a mind, even from afar. Anymore, it happens as naturally as sight, for me. But I can sense your discomfort, and you have my word that I will try not to meddle any further.”

  At this, Nandor allowed himself to smile. “Excuses,” he gazed firmly into Forojen’s eyes. “The truth is, I did not allow you to enter, and you are disappointed that you cannot overcome my mental barriers. I’ve seen it before. I may be unskilled with mystic powers, but Wagfrost taught me enough to defend myself. You should know that by now.”

  Forojen nodded, “I do, but my curiosity was overwhelming.” He now looked to the three of them. “You have all changed a great deal, and Dobry has disappeared.” He shifted to Nix, “Can you tell me what happened?”

  She scooted up her chair closer to the table, and her face became even paler than it already was. Her eyes nervously darted from Dorin, to Forojen. “I-I, that is, sir… so much happened…” There was a soft howl, and then water poured down her cheeks. The emotional outburst happened so abruptly that it took both Nandor and Forojen off guard.

  “Dear girl!” Forojen stood from the table, and moved to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. “There,
there,” he patted her, “it’s okay…”

  Nandor stood up as well, but rather than comfort Nix as she sniffed and cried, he looked to Forojen with a raised eyebrow. He had never known the grandmaster to be a sympathetic man. Certainly not the type of person to pat a girl on the shoulder as she cried. Yet, he was too clever to attempt anything foolish.

  What is he trying to do?

  He took the grandmaster by the forearm, and eased him away from Nix. “What are you doing?” He did not hide his distrust.

  There was the glare of a glow in Forojen’s eye and he appeared shaken as Nandor dragged him aside. The glow of mystic power… was he reading her mind?

  Nix continued crying, and leaned over the table as she howled. Dorin was as confused as a bot could get, and only Nandor and Forojen locked eyes. “I-I did not mean too…” he mumbled to Nandor. “Dobry—he died, didn’t he?”

  From the table, Nix howled louder as she cried. Forojen took it as confirmation, and slowly nodded his head. “I’m sorry. I knew it was a dangerous mission I set him on, but I am glad he was able to lay down his life in service of saving you…”

  There was another great wail as Nix continued to cry, and now it was Nandor’s turn to become confused. He had no idea Nix had grown to care so much for Dobry. She was crying like a screaming babe… Perhaps there’s more to the story… He gazed at Forojen. “What else did you see in her mind?”

  A smile danced across Forojen’s lips, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come, as if he were trying to hide some great secret. “Nothing, Nandor. Nothing at all.” He made his way back to his seat as Nandor eyed him with suspicion. “Her emotions were overpowering. All I saw was poor Dobry lying on the ground, his throat slit as he struggled for air… poor dear.” He looked to Nix. “She was not prepared to see such suffering.”

  At last, Nandor allowed himself to relax, and he fell back into his chair. “There will be much more suffering in the days to come, if Froj is not allowed a part of the Green Forest. I hear food shortages have already begun.”

  The grandmaster nodded, “Indeed. But we cannot allow ourselves to grow pessimistic. I believe we can still do well by the city.”

  “Speaking of which,” Nandor narrowed his gaze. “Now that I have returned, I have questions for you.” A growl crept into his tone, and his body tightened.

  “You speak of my lie,” Forojen guessed, “Correct?”

  “Yes. Why did you tell me the war was planned two weeks later than it really was? What did you have to gain by lying to me? Did you want the war to happen without me there to try to stop it, were you really foolish enough to think that I wouldn’t discover the truth?”

  “Nandor,” The grandmaster spoke gently, at first, but as his speech continued his words grew graver. “I only lied about the war schedule because I wanted you to be able to focus on your mission without worrying about something you were powerless to stop. I admire you, both your talents as an elementalist, and your determination, but the war was inevitable, Nandor. I know you don’t wish to think so, but it was. Nothing you or I could have done would have stopped it. You honestly believe you were the only one trying to find a solution of peace? No. I spoke with many more, but there was no solution. I suspect Lady Mikja and Lord Grimbone were planning their betrayal from day one. Froj was becoming too powerful, and Lord Viken had an uncanny record of military success. No one wanted to face his army in a fair fight. Power can become a fickle thing—a thing that makes others spiteful. The rulers of Winfrost and Norda always intended to split the Green Forest, and kill off their competition. And so, it was a matter of mitigating damages, not stopping a war. To be frank, you never had your head in the game. You wished to chase your fairy tales instead. Tell me—how did that end up for you? Did you actually discover Marr’s Palace of Creation? Or was it just another grandiose plan without any actual intellectual merit?”

  Nandor was stunned. He felt anger, but it soon passed, and left him with an empty feeling of nothingness. Forojen was right, he realized. Everything he had done—it had all ended in failure. “I-I never found the palace. I found the body of Marr instead, and along with it, a manifesto describing his every lie. He was a false prophet, only pretending to speak for god… you… you are right.” At his side, Nixie’s sniffing became less intense, and the bot was cuddled up beside her, whispering motherly things in her ear. It struck Nandor as odd that the bot would suddenly show her affection, when previously it had called her dim, but he took it as a good sign. Perhaps they were growing on each other.

  Forojen noted it as well. “You have all been through a lot,” he said. “Nandor—I see that you are a changed man. Your body looks different—even livelier. There is more energy in you than there was before. I suspect you don’t realize just how much your friends have done to keep you among the realms of the living, but I’ll spare you the details. All I’ll say is keep growing—you are on the right path to enlightenment, and Froj will need you at your best in the days to come.” He turned, “Nixie, keep your chin up. Dobry was a good man, and one of the best scholars, but he would not wish for you to dwell in suffering. He was a practical man, and if he had to do it all over again to save you, I suspect he would. His life was not wasted, but rather used in exchange for a better future.” He shifted to the bot, “Now you, you’re a strange one, and no mistake. I won’t even began to pretend to know what to say to you, so, I’ll only say—keep protecting them. They both need your shrewdness more than they know.”

  The bot snorted, “You don’t need to tell me. These humans are so soft, but I suppose not everyone has been through two hundred years of slavery and hell.”

  “Indeed,” the grandmaster agreed. “Nix? Who was it that killed Dobry, if you don’t mind me asking? In your head his face was quite clear, and it looked almost familiar to me. Was it someone I know?”

  “I-it-it was a student…” she managed to mumble.

  “A student? Of the Crystal College?”

  “Yes,” she sniffed, “Gevor—that bastard. But h-he said he was working for Headmaster Sagger.”

  “Sagger? Sagger ordered a student to attack Nix and Dobry?” Nandor became enraged. “That unworthy prick of a headmaster? That fool who gloats where he should kneel? I’ll kill him!”

  Quickly, Forojen held up a hand. “Please—we will handle this, I assure you both. I’ll not abide killers within my walls. But—was it a duel? Or an attack. I must know, for there is a difference.”

  “What’s the difference? He was going to attack us anyway? Dobry had no choice!” Nix protested, looking hurt.

  “I understand, Nixie. I do. But if it was a legal duel, it might be hard for me to pin Sagger as the one responsible. Gevor has always been considered an exceptional student, and Sagger’s connections provide almost half of the college funding—or they used to. I’ve made enough enemies already by firing the former headmaster of elemental studies in place of Nandor. We can’t afford more enemies, during this time. If I banish them, it would cause far more problems down the road than it would fix. These are powerful men, who likely hold powerful grudges.”

  “So what?” Nandor growled, “You’re just going to allow Gevor and Sagger to go free?”

  “No,” Forojen shook his head, “I did not say that. While banishment is off the table, we could always try more… permanent solutions. I might have my hands tied, but you three don’t. If it was a duel, then traditionally this is a dispute that must be handled by those who cared most for Dobry. Which means you two. If you can beat them, in an open and legal duel, then this dispute will be considered done.”

  For a moment, Nandor was not sure if he agreed with Forojen’s response, but it was expected. For whatever reason, the grandmaster was enthralled with duels, and openly encouraged them even on college grounds, so long as they were done legally. He accepted his words with a bear-like rumble. “Very well. I can duel them. Won’t be the first lesson I’ve taught at the college free of charge.”

  Forojen looked grave. “Y
our previous duels in the college were all to first blood, if I recall. This will have to be a more serious matter, you understand? Gevor and Sagger can’t be left alive. If left with a grudge, they would only hinder the college more, in already turbulent times.”

  “So I must kill them?” Nandor sighed, and then slowly nodded, “Perhaps, at one point, I might have protested such an action. But I see your point. Gevor killed Dobry, and Sagger I’ve suspected of corruption for a while now. It will be my pleasure to end their little rotten reign of terror.”

  Dorin suddenly released the comforting teddy-bear like hold it had on Nix, and its eyebrows shot-up, enthralled. “So we are tasked with cleansing the college of killers and traitors? How utterly delightful!”

  Nandor did not share the creature’s enthusiasm. “I’m afraid that it will be my task, Dorin. I am the only one fit for this battle.” It was the truth. Dorin knew it, Nix knew it, and Forojen knew it.

  “I-I didn’t mean for you to be the one.” Nixie spoke softly. “I don’t wish to see you duel again. Not after everything that we’ve been through. Surely there is another way?”

  “Nonsense,” Nandor huffed, “Sagger and I have an old debt to settle anyway.” He remembered the note he had found near the grave of Marr.

  Tragedy?

  No. No tragedy. The student found dead in the snow with the parchment pinned to his chest was no tragedy. He was a student bullied. Ridiculed, and forced into the wilderness where he met his unbecoming end. It was borderline murder. Sagger had been his teacher, and likely the one responsible for his end.

  Nandor turned to Forojen. “How skilled are my opponents?”

  The grandmaster considered the question, tilting his head. “No pushovers, obviously. I originally appointed Sagger as headmaster for a reason—he is a powerful mystic, and his mind oozes power even from over a distance, but you have a strong mental barrier, and so long as you can keep your distance, and fight with a weapon you are suited for, I think you will have a distinct edge.” He lifted up a shoulder, “Gevor, on the other hand, is a little more unpredictable. I believe he is a skilled duelist with a small sword. Nix? You would know better than I.”