Another Stupid Trilogy

by Bill Ricardi

  That evening, the Private Sanctum came to our rescue once again. Not only did it allow me to take care of Ames’ every need, but in that darkness and relative silence, the were-cat rested more peacefully than they had since arriving at the University.

  The morning came too soon. I carefully rolled out of bed, making sure not to jostle Ames’ immobilized leg. I never made it to my feet however. A white hot pain flashed through my head, followed by a mental image of flames across an infinite landscape. I fell to my knees as a voice shouted / pulsed in my head:

  ‘NEVER USE THAT SPELL AGAIN, MORTAL.’

  I did my best to remain calm, but the presence was massive, unreal. It felt like my sanity could slip at any time, and my mind would belong to the entity. I formed words in my mind, ‘Who are you to insist upon anything? What is your business on this plane, entity?’

  The sensation of a cold fire burning up my spine and into my brain stem was unmistakable. I tried to fight the pain with logic, reminding myself that if this was real, I’d be dead.

  ‘TINDER DOES NOT QUESTION THE FLAME, CHILD OF PANOS! CEASE THE USE OF THAT SPELL.’

  I felt how my mind had been tethered. In a split second I had made my decision. I pushed my mind back down the link. There was a sensation of shock from the other end. Then raw pain surged through the link, igniting my mind and making my helpless body shake.

  I powered through the soul-wracking torment until, suddenly, it was gone and I was elsewhere.

  The landscape of flames became the flickering of a fireplace. Absurdly, I found myself sitting at a massive dinner table with my oversized host.

  “Koroth.”

  The name was both an acknowledgement and an accusation. This was the demon lord who tried to devastate and enslave Royal Moffit while murdering the royal family. The bastard who attempted to create a physical bridge between his world and Panos so that he could march his hellish army across the land. His cherry red skin and glowing red eyes were in stark contrast to the tasteful eggshell white paint covering the walls of this intellectual prison.

  Koroth picked up his giant mug of tea and sipped noisily. “Sorch.”

  I scowled, “You didn’t have enough of an ass kicking last time?” I decided not to hide my feelings. We were in each other’s heads after all.

  The giant red demon set down his steaming mug. “Technically, it was our dear Duke Marley Harrington whose rump fell down a hole of his own digging. So close to the end, too. Ah well, the world’s loss is my gain. He is a particularly sadistic general of the underworld.”

  I sipped my own tea. It was warm and sweet. “Why should I stop using the Sanctum spell?”

  Koroth chuckled. “Because if you do not, I will slowly drive you mad during your waking hours. I think you know that I’m not bluffing.”

  I did know that. But I also sensed a caveat. “Aro-Remset would consider that unfair battle. Kenvunk would go to war and appeal to the others.”

  The demon picked up his mug and swirled the contents slowly for a while before answering. “Yes. But their reactions would be mitigated when they learned why.”

  I drained my little cup of tea, thinking how unfair it was that Koroth’s mug was so much bigger. “You’re watching my dreams. You’re stealing my nightmares. Why?”

  Koroth frowned. “It’s time for you to go, Sorch. Stay out of the Private Sanctum if you wish to retain your puny mind.”

  Suddenly I was back in room 214. I was on my knees, panting, drenched in sweat. I was exhausted, every muscle strained. And I hadn’t even had breakfast yet.

  On shaking legs, wearing only my breeches, I made my way to the guard post of the South Wing, ignoring the looks of other students who were passing by.

  “I need to speak to the Headmaster. Urgently.”

  The kindly man inside the stone guard shack looked at me dubiously. “I’m afraid such a summons normally works the other way around.”

  I insisted, “I need to see Hemitath now, dammit.”

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to have you escorted back to your chambers now.”

  My growl was likely audible halfway to the Teleportation Circle. However, I managed to calm myself. “Hemitath’s assistant. The gray haired elf with all the paperwork. Get her a message please. Tell her that Sorch Stonebender needs to see Hemitath urgently. It’s about the prophecy of Koroth.”

  Still looking like he’d rather just drag me back to my chambers, the man’s eyes lost focus as he tapped into the University’s magical communication system. A couple of moments later, he looked surprised. “The Headmaster’s Assistant says 20 minutes, and suggests you wash and put on a summer robe. You’re excused from classes for the morning.”

  I let out a half held breath. Mrs. efficiency was watching my back, despite her standoffish demeanor. “Thank you, I’ll do that.”

  Clean, and wearing a set of olive green summer robes, I hurried to the Headmaster’s office in the North Wing. When I arrived, the old elf at the desk was simply pointing to the Headmaster’s door, as in if not wanting to have anything to do with me. I surprised her by walking around the desk and kissing the elderly assistant on the forehead. I swear I heard a girlish giggle as I hurried into Hemitath’s office.

  I was met by Dutch, coiled up in the padded guest chair and looking at me with as much concern as a snake could muster.

  Hemitath waved me in. I closed the door behind me as she said, “Sorry Sorch, she was so concerned for some reason that she didn’t want to stay in her habitat. What’s wrong?”

  I pulled up a second chair and explained every detail of my mental encounter with Koroth. As I spoke, Dutch slithered from her seat to my lap, and slowly coiled around me in what I hoped was the snake equivalent of a hug rather than an attempt at suffocation. The cynic in me thought that she just wanted to leech my body heat. But I appreciated the gesture nonetheless, it was somehow comforting.

  The old elf stood and started slowly pacing. “Your portents of the destruction of the world seem to have worried Koroth, Sorch. That would mean your dreams were forecasting something other than the attempt at a demonic invasion, and Koroth needed to know more. Tell me Sorch, do you remember having the apocalypse dream since being captured?”

  I thought back. “Once.”

  Hemitath tilted her head. “Just once? When?”

  I said, “It was when Leeson and I were waiting for Ames and Tara to come back to Limt. We were taking care of The Magic Shop. I had gotten a bunch of customers high on betel tea that morning.”

  The Headmaster nodded. “Right around the celebration of Koroth’s Night. The one night of the year when the demon lord would be so busy, that his eyes would be elsewhere. The one night he didn’t steal your dream.”

  We sat in silence for a time, both thinking.

  The archmage broke the silence first. “Sorch, I’m going to talk to Professor Gideon.”

  I blinked once, surprised. “Why?”

  Hemitath gestured to her own office door. “Somewhere in those neatly stacked piles of paper on my assistant’s desk is a request for young Jess to move in with a certain young master Leeson. With Professor Gideon’s permission, I’ll grant it.”

  “Is this a trade situation? Am I moving in with Gideon? I mean he looks cuddly and all, but…”

  The headmaster stared at me for a moment. “You have a strange sense of humor, do you know that? No. You have my permission to cohabitate with Ames for the next couple of weeks, and use the guest room for the rest of the semester after the were-cat is gone. This should obviate the need for your use of Private Sanctum.”

  Dutch started the long process of unwrapping me, sensing that the meeting was coming to a close.

  I was happy with the solution in one way, but unhappy in another. “So we’re just going to give Koroth what he wants?”

  Hemitath threw her slender arms into the air. “I don’t have an immediate solution to a nosey demon lord poking around inside your brain. Not one that wouldn’t eventually risk your ver
y sanity, Sorch. I’m going to be passing on this news to the elven clergy, who will attempt to divine a solution. Until then, we’re not going to prod the big angry red demon. Especially when all he’s doing is taking away a nightmare you don’t particularly want anyway. Understood?”

  I had to admit, it sounded like the logical thing to do given the context. “Understood.”

  “I’ll get back to you when the bishops have come up with anything. Until then, try to relax.”

  When Dutch had recoiled in her own chair, I stood. “Thank you Headmaster.” I took a cookie before I left.

  Classes seemed to fly by that day, and soon I found myself back in room 214. Packing.

  Jess was clearly happy with the proposed solution. I received more were-wolf hugs in one night than I had for the past month. Her father had granted his blessing, and the process of me moving to the (admittedly fancier) guest quarters was underway.

  Leeson however couldn’t seem to stop thinking that this was all his fault.

  The young human murmured, for the millionth time that night, “I’m sorry I drove you out, Sorch.”

  I snorted, “Leeson, for the last time, that’s not what happened. A major demonic power has taken a keen interest in my brain. We may have discovered it through my use of the Private Sanctum spell, but it was happening either way. I’m glad we found out. But for everyone’s safety, it’s better if I move out now rather than later.”

  He stared at his own toes. “Still I know I’ve been a pain this semester. I haven’t made things easy for you.”

  I stopped packing my bags to give Leeson a much needed bearhug. “Listen. You’re a young guy, with drives and needs. I’m very happy for you and Jess. I’m glad her dad ended up getting along with your parents. How does it work anyway, will your kids basically be furrier versions of you or…”

  He batted at my arms, blushing furiously. “Sorch!”

  I chuckled and let my young friend go. “The point is, your happiness is worth a little bit of lost sleep. I grew in the process as well. I met some amazing new people, learned some useful new magic. And at no point did I stop being proud of you and all you’ve accomplished. Okay?”

  The young human retained his flush, but now it due to was pride at my approval. “Okay.”

  “Now grab those two bags, you’re helping me move.”

  Ames was just as pleased as Jess had been with this solution. The feline graciously granted me one drawer and one half-closet worth of space. Truth be told, I didn’t even fill that much. A lot of my things sat in bags, hanging from pegs in the wall so that I could grab them on the way out the door. I was mocked mercilessly for my level of organization. The mocking was very likely well deserved.

  The night after I had moved in with Ames, I discovered some notes in one of my bags. These were tidbits from a glamours class, things that I should have returned to Parsnip a number of days back. I headed down to her room before dinner to drop them off. I had figured that the half elf might want to store them away, rather than tote them around all night and all morning if I handed them off in the library later on.

  I knocked on the half elf’s door, and waiting until she opened it of her own accord.

  “Sorch! Oh hi, I didn’t expect you to drop by. Is anything the matter?”

  I shook my head and brandished the notes. “I’m done with these. Actually, I’ve been done for days, I simply forgot to get them back to you.”

  Parsnip chuckled a little bit and took the notes from me. I ghosted in after her when she turned to lock them away in her desk.

  Sitting at a writing table on the other side of the room was an individual that I normally went to great lengths to avoid. The roommate. Human, blond, and wearing a perpetual smirk. The walls on his side of the room were decorated with drawings related to the mental and metaphysical arts: Chakra charts, brain diagrams, aura maps. He was holding a book, but rather than reading it, the young man was staring openly at the two of us. I promptly ignored him.

  Once the notes were secure, Parsnip slipped the key to her desk into a belt pouch. “Head down to dinner?” she asked me.

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  As the two of us walked out the door, a smug, annoying voice rang out. “Might want to get an escort, you never know what she’ll say if there aren’t witnesses present.”

  Parsnip’s shoulders stiffened visibly. I placed a hand at the small of her back and urged the half elf to vacate the room and ignore the idiot.

  Once we were out in the hallway, I pretended to pat down the pockets of my robe. “Damn. You know what, go ahead and head down. I need to get a Message to Ames. I thought that my coin pouch was in my robes, but maybe the feline just pilfered it.”

  My friend nodded, seeming a bit emotionally numb after what just happened. I waited until the half elf had walked down the hall and turned the corner.

  Once Parsnip was out of sight, I started casting. But there was no copper wire in my calloused hands. I wasn’t sending a Message. Well, not that kind of message.

  Once I had completed my spell, I stepped back into the dorm room and closed the door behind me. The little punk of a roommate looked up at me and said something that I couldn’t hear. As I crossed the room towards him, the sphere of Silence that I cast upon myself enveloped him as well. His eyes went wide, as the peril of this particular situation struck him.

  I had the smaller human out of his chair and slammed up against the wall in two seconds. The first impact wasn’t satisfying enough, so I reeled him back in before putting my weight behind the next slam. The blonde haired brat’s spine and head impacted the wall simultaneously. Much better.

  The lad’s eyes were slightly glazed over, and his jaw was hanging open in terror. I snarled at him, allowing a little spittle to drip from my incisors. The acrid scent of piss drifted up as my victim soaked his robes.

  I drew back my right hand and balled it into a fist. My feral haymaker slammed into the wall, a scant inch from the roommate’s skull. I felt my skin split a little bit at the knuckle. I stained the chakra poster a nice, deep red. I drew my hand back, putting my bloody knuckles on display in front of the hyperventilating human. Slowly, I wiped the back of my hand against the lad’s forehead, marking him with my essence.

  As soon as I let the human go, he slumped against the wall. I turned and didn’t look back. My Silence spell expired just before I slammed the dormitory room door shut behind me. I stopped by the bathing room to wash and then dress my hand, before joining Parsnip for dinner.

  Nobody questioned me about the hand. I never heard a word from Parsnip’s roommate or from school administration. At one point Ames looked at me with silent concern, but even my mate decided to give me some slack and not press the matter. I had sent a simple message: Parsnip was under my protection now, and certain things wouldn’t be tolerated. Nobody refuted my claim.

  The next few weeks passed in a blur. Ames recovered fully from the broken ankle. It took a fraction of the time due to the regular application of divine healing. Still my mate visited me at least two days a week. Apparently the druidic order’s level of involvement was exactly what The Spastic Vole needed. Ames’ work hours were far more sane now. My mate also had free use of the Arcane University’s teleportation system, as both Hemitath and Master Max were now using the were-cat to keep tabs on everything happening in Ice House. The feline was quietly given Honored Guest status. I would never hear the end of it.

  Even without the need to avoid noisy roommates, Ames and I visited our library study group frequently. The were-cat had become good friends with both Parsnip and Titan, and flirted quite a bit with Celestial. The feline was always a welcome voice, often presenting mundane, streamlined solutions to situations that would have been magically complex. We would leave our little group of friends as they prepared to get some sleep. A couple of times, Ames arranged for a huge plate of exotic snacks to appear overnight, courtesy of the Spastic Vole. It was a welcome break from cornbread, and elevated Ames’ already lofty s
tatus amongst the students.

  Sometimes it was difficult being the champion of Royal Moffit and possible savior of Panos, and yet be the one relegated to ‘social-also-ran’ status when compared to your mate. I learned to live with it.

  Despite being less popular than Ames, Celestial had more of an interest in me. But only for my mind. Having mastered Flame Blade, the Professor’s Assistant wanted to broaden his advanced repertoire. I offered to teach him Stone Shape, and Celestial gratefully accepted. It took a couple of weeks, as neither of us had a lot of spare time. But eventually, Celestial was adeptly making stone door knobs, candlestick holders, statues, and the like. The real surprise was when I walked into my room one day to find a small stone boat sitting on my desk, complete with rigging and thin sails that looked like they had been frozen in time. In sheer artistry, the umber skinned human had far exceeded my own Stone Shaping talents.

  I also learned another minor spell. Invisible Servant was, of course, a concept I was familiar with given my past association with the Voodoo Engine. I mastered it without issues. As my quick learning resulted in a couple of classes where the rest of the students would need to catch up, I asked if I could spend some classroom time with Assistant Donnelly instead. The request was granted.

  In the basement of the West Wing of the University, the Arcane Records department existed. I say ‘existed’ because not much happened down there. It was, for all intents and purposes, a paperwork graveyard. Years of records that had some theoretical long term value were lovingly categorized, labeled, and archived in a single warehouse sized cavern. Most of the time the room resided in darkness, only illuminated when someone wandered through with a Light spell. No torches were allowed, for obvious reasons.

  Arcane Records had a single employee. He was a somewhat nondescript human: Average height, short blond hair, slightly pudgy, gold rimmed glasses, silver pocket watch. His name was Bill Donnelly, and he was a self-described paper pusher. Having never done much with his magic (past barely graduating from the Arcane University), he was given the title of ‘Assistant’ rather than Professor or Master. He wasn’t an Assistant Professor, because he wasn’t really assisting anyone in particular. Anyone looking at his record might wonder why he was employed here at all, rather than as a professional working magician somewhere out in the real world.