“But I ask you, young magi, at what cost was this victory won? Did we not abandon our dignity? Did not some of us sell our very souls? To understand where we stand today, to understand why we have so fallen, we must reflect back on our distant past, and bear witness to our parents’ follies. Their slide into darkness began with the first clumsy attempts to mimic our foes. Hexes. Curses. Mass effect spells. They stumbled along, learning what they could, and stealing what they could not. Miscasts were common. Some of the Magi were incinerated. Others vanished from the frame forever. Desperation drove them. Their friends and families were perishing. Their churches and temples were burning. And with anguish and grief consuming them, the Magi delved ever deeper into the craft. Rules were broken. Tenets trampled. They constructed something truly horrible—and they did not flinch from using it.
“The Catastrophe of the Ten, we call it now. We know not the full extent of the damage, for we know not of a single voice that survived them. But the unforgivable collateral damage gave not a single mage pause. Oh no, young ones, the Catastrophe only encouraged them. What if they could refine the horrors? What if they could harness them to their wills? And so, ever darker arts were fashioned by the hands of men. Necromancy was perfected. Then chimerism. Then dread foremutation. True, these new horrors were the source of victory after victory, true, without them humanity might have fallen into the abyss, but we, the children of those that abandoned the Ancient Tenets, have born a harsh burden ever since.
“Yes, for a time, the Magi grew wealthy, and the Old Orders flourished. Seats of great power were obtained. Prestige was piled steep. But with the new wealth came new sloth, with the new power came new arrogance, with the new admirers came new negligence. The Magi drew inward. They obsessed over the wonders of their spells and shoveled disdain on the ignorant filth called the Imperiti. They never thought to share. They never thought to care. With each generation, our ancestors became more and more disconnected from the humanity that lived around them.” Eikhorn looked out into the crowd and raised an eyebrow. “Like some of you with your computerized games…”
“Oh, right, me playing Mario Kart is gonna lead to genocide,” Sadie grumbled.
“Geno-what?” I asked.
“Shh,” Sadie whispered, “Eiky’s getting to that part.”
I shuffled uncomfortably in my chair. I wondered if I should be taking notes. Most of the students remained at attention. It was like someone was singing the National Anthem. This must have been a story they’d heard many times. A history their parents told to them as children. A story they put stock in. The deaths of their friends had shaken these people. You could smell the fear in the air. I figured Eikhorn was reminding them of who they were by re-connecting them to their past. Perhaps she hoped they would draw strength from this shared heritage…von Herder would be proud.
“The Magi were not alone in their negligence! The cataphract knights became fat and lazy as well. They forgot their skills and hired others to fight in their stead. And what was the result? The Imperiti grew fearful of our power, suspicious of our secrecy, and disgusted by our vices…and I tell you, young magi, their appraisal was correct.
“With blood in the water, the rest was predictable. In Europe, the Church no longer saw the need for co-existence. To them, we had always been their enemy’s enemy—never a friend. The Church coveted our lands, wealth, and leylines. But we rested easy, confident in our power. We had bested those from beyond the frame; what threat could mere Imperiti pose? But all the power in the world is worthless if you cannot bring it to bear, and a sloth is still slow even when it desires haste.
“And so, on Friday the 13th of October, 1307, the ashes of the Templar Knights filled the skies of Europe. The most powerful humans on the face of the planet had been caught unprepared. Their charred bones serve us as an eternal reminder: Vigilance, students. Vigilance or death.
“The Old World’s ley network, upon which our ancestors had built the grand cathedrals, was turned against the Magi. Deprived of the power of our leylines, we fell one-by-one to the hunts. The Long March began. The Teutonics fled east. In their desperation to survive, they succumbed to the worst of our temptations. They captured slaves. Perverted them. Compromised their souls. And what did it buy them in the end? Eighty more years of inhuman existence. Perhaps we should rejoice that they were crushed at Tannenberg.”
Murmurs arose from a section of the auditorium across from us. Eikhorn ignored them.
“The Knights Hospitaller fared better. They played the few cards they had wisely and made themselves invaluable in the defense against the Muslims. But their path remained bloody. How many times over the centuries were their numbers halved? And then the fall of Rhodes. 7,000 men against 200,000. Hexes that cracked open the heavens. Six months of horrors ending in The Sacrifice of the Twelve.
“For their bravery, Charles V granted the surviving Hospitallers the island of Malta. That lonely island became the last bastion of our kind in Europe. I myself traveled there as a girl to find shelter from the Church’s persecution. In return for Charles V’s protection, our raiding parties harried Muslim shipping lanes. We sent their supplies under the waves again and again. We frustrated their entrance into Europe. We goaded them until they launched an assault upon us. The Siege of Malta began. We signaled for aid as planned, but our messengers were silenced. Our promised reinforcements were withheld. Philip II abandoned us. 550 Hospitallers and 8,000 brave Imperiti soldiers were left to face the entire Ottoman army alone.
“The horrors I witnessed…the plagues, the starvation, the unending assaults. Battles raged for weeks on end. I remember days when a snared rat was considered a gift from the Gods. I remember days when a glass of water was worth twice its weight in gold. The months passed like one long smear of blood. Both sides withered from the barbarity. Our carefully laid fortifications were rent to dust. We feared all was lost. The Ottomans encroached. Siege towers launched, their rushing hordes clamored for our blood. And in the midst of this madness, under more strain than you children can ever imagine, Jean Parisot perfected confoundment, and our entire world changed…
“With the stroke of his wand, the Ottomans despaired. The pashas' grand army fled in confusion. Nary 600 souls survived that siege, but at long last, we earned the favor of the Church. The Grand Master of the Hospitallers was granted cardinal rank. The Ancient Tenets were codified. The Conscious agreed to never again employ the dark arts, root out those who did, and forever practice their craft in secret. In return, the Church agreed to end the pogrom. The war ended. Our future was secured. Yes, some persecution has continued. Yes, some of the Tenets are chafing. But the return to them has ensured our very survival. Never forget, children. We draw breath because of them.”
Eikhorn stopped walking and looked out into the crowd.
“We will do everything in our power to ensure the safety of this school, but take heart, children, the Conscious have faced worse. Trust in the Tenets. They are the source of our strength. Trust in them, and they will help guide you through the difficult times ahead.”
With that said, Eikhorn walked back to her step and plopped down. What an odd message. What did such a lengthy history lesson have to do with yesterday’s attacks? At a time like this, why was Eikhorn so concerned about rules and regulations?
Behind me I thought I heard Rei yawn.
Dean Albright stood and cleared his throat.
“Thank you, Chancellor. Now we shall honor the memories of the fallen with a moment of silence.”
The students and faculty bowed their heads forward.
This kind of thing always made me feel uncomfortable. What did the dead care? I tried to take stock of my situation instead. Of the sixteen initiates attacked, I was the only one not captured or killed. If Rei hadn’t been around, they would have gotten a hold of me for sure…but then what? What was the point? Why try to capture a bunch of inexperienced spellcasters? I sighed. Rei was right. I had no clue what was going on. Heck, I didn’t even know
where to start. All I knew was that I didn’t like my odds.
I risked a peek behind me. Rei was two rows back. She wasn’t praying so much as struggling to stay awake. Her head bobbed up and down like a slow-mo yo-yo. Ichijo Fukimura sat next to her. Pressing his palms together in front of him, he was murmuring quietly to himself. He completed the ritual with three firm claps of the hands. Rei startled awake, her veiled head darting about in confusion. Discovering the perpetrator, she needled Fukimura in the side. Fukimura let out a little yip and jumped. I smiled. A Shinto priest and a vampire…there was a joke in there somewhere.
“In light of this incident,” Dean Albright announced, “all students are to remain on campus. Any suspicious activity is to be reported to a captain or a member of the faculty. And everyone, please no do-it-yourself fortifications or counter-hexes…”
A collective groan came from the student body.
“I mean it,” Dean Albright said sternly. “We don’t need any more buildings burning down. Classes will begin as scheduled. We will update your group leaders with any new information as it becomes available.” Albright placed his left hand on the earth and the pressure in the room released with a pop. “Thank you for your time. You’re dismissed.”
I made my way out of the auditorium with Sadie at my side. It was a bit chaotic at the entrance. Students hustled this way and that. Some clumped together to trade gossip. Others stood around looking stoic. To my astonishment, a group of girls had already made a get-well banner for Susan Collins, that girl Eikhorn mentioned. It read: “We’ll all give U a hand, Susan!” A line was forming to sign it.
I waited for Sadie to finish talking with her friends. (No one seemed much inclined to talk to me.) The sun was high in the sky and the humidity thick. Most of the students had already taken off their robes. Searching around, I spotted Rei and Fukimura. Fukimura had Rei under his arm. He was helping her off in the direction of the groundskeeper’s cabin. The sunlight must have been taking its toll. Concerned, I went to run after them.
“Hold it grub!” Sadie shouted after me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To help Rei, of course,” I said, irritated. She knew damn well where I was going.
Sadie dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand.
“Ichi’s got it. We’ve got to start your remedial lessons.”
“But…”
“Nien!” Sadie said, stomping her knee-highs. “It doesn’t work that way here. I’m in charge of your worthless, uneducated, and, according to Maria, kinda cute posterior. In case you didn’t notice, there’s some kind of war on. Leave Ms. Fangtastic be. She just needs her deadtime. Here’s the plan: first we get some grub, then I train some grub. You see what I did there? I turned a phrase. I’m already brightening up your dim-dim little world.”
My stomach growled at the mention of food. When was the last time I ate, exactly? I gave Rei and Fukimura one more glance. I was getting the feeling that I had forgotten something again…but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe that was because I was starving to death. I bowed to Sadie and followed her to the cafeteria.
Chapter 17
TRAINING DAY
The food was pretty good—the freeness was even better.
I let Sadie do most of the talking and downed about five pounds of pancakes. Sadie seemed nice, if not a little scattered. She tended to talk too fast, and her body was in constant motion. Her short punky hair and clunky knee-highs made her look like an emo princess. I could hear Sadie’s headphones from across the table. They were pumping out acid metal.
Sadie snagged the sugar dispenser and liberally sprinkled her Cheerios between bites. She said she grew up in New York City. She said she came from the Irish tradition like Jules, but that she and her family were practicing Catholics, not Druids. Both her parents were mages working for the Department of Mana Affairs. Their jobs required them to travel quite a bit. Sadie said they were currently stationed in the Pacific Northwest investigating a series of murders.
When Sadie finished her sugary O’s, the conversation switched to a discussion of our learning objectives. First she wanted details about what I knew. I described how I could sense a person’s intent if their thoughts were directed at me, and that I once caught a rock and redirected the energy. She basically just sat there staring at me vacantly.
“Why they put you in Lambda, I have no idea,” she commented.
“To enhance the education of my peers?” I offered. “I can teach you how to brew beer.”
Sadie shook her head. “Lambda is a combat squad, Dieter. We need more firepower, not a scryer who’s good at bumper cars.”
I stared at her blankly. “Combat squad?” I had no idea what she was talking about.
Sadie rubbed her temples. “Rights. Fine. Fuck-me-in-the-ear. How ‘bouts after you finish eating the school’s supply of pancakes, we hit the basement and start with the basics. The Irish already saved civilization once. Alls I have to do is fashion a demon-fragger out of this Imperiti moron.”
I inhaled one last delicious carbo-cake and followed Sadie out of the cafeteria. We walked the path toward Central Hall. There were student groups setting up tables outside. One poster read: “Students for the Ethical Treatment of Endoplasmic Entities.” I wanted to stop and gawk, but Sadie was having none of it. Inside Central we passed by the Social Sciences Department, where a bulletin announced, “PsyOps 331: Glamour in the Urban Environment is now considered a pre-requisite for all members of Witch Information Protection (WIP) teams. Contact Dr. Walberg or TA Monique Rice to enroll.”
Thumbing my finger at the sign, I asked, “Is that what I think it is?”
Sadie nodded. “Yea, WIP teams are like the lid on our can of worms. We’ve come a long way from Jean Parisot’s time. Had to really. My parents said that when cameras became more common in the forties, it really made their lives miserable. And don’t even get me started on handheld video. I mean, could you imagine the uproar that bigfoot footage would have caused if it wasn’t hexed?”
I swallowed. “Oh. So they do—”
“Rights. Big hairy hermits. What, you think George Lucas pulled Chewbacca out of thin air? He got a load of heat from the Department on that one.”
“Lucas?” I asked, astounded. “You mean—”
“Oh come on, Dieter. Use your head a bit. His company’s called Industrial Light and Magic for God’s sakes.”
Sadie led me to the same stairwell Rei had taken me up last night, but this time we headed down. To my surprise, the stairwell descended over five stories.
I was really starting to regret that last pancake when Sadie said, “Sorry, the elevator’s out. Roster got a little carried away two weeks ago and…well, it’s a long story.” I didn’t care to consider what that implied.
After what felt like ten minutes, we reached a crowded little room at the bottom of the stairs.
“Nice broom closet.”
Sadie walked over to a set of double doors and swiped her keycard. The mechanism beeped its approval, and I followed Sadie through the doors.
“Oh. Ok. Wow.” It had to be at least 500 square yards of open space. Someone had leveled the floor with cement, but it looked like it was a natural formation, a cavern of some kind. To one side there were a number of contraptions, temporary walls, and devices you would normally see in a gymnastics studio. There was even an observation deck mounted into the cave’s rocky wall. On the other side of the cavern, multiple large circles filled the majority of the space. The circles looked like modified wrestling mats. They were made from the same foam material.
“Wow,” I said. “Our very own Danger Room.”
“Meh,” Sadie said holding her nose. “More like our very own Bat Cave—complete with stinky bat dung.” She pointed to the darkness at the end of the concrete. “This chamber is part of a larger limestone system that stretches out under Elliot’s campus. The native shamans had been using it for centuries before us Euro-trash invaded. The administration hollowed it out
a bit back in the 1840’s.”
“Why’s it so special?” I asked.
“Simple. Spellwork is much easier when you’re closer to the ley. Mana-slingers like this place because it gets you as close to the leyflow as possible.” She made a sweeping gesture. “Right now the ley is flowing all around us.”
“The ley? People keep saying that.”
“Omygod, Dieter, you remind me of my little brother. Okay, listen up. Leylines are conduits of pure mana. There are thousands of these leyflows coursing around the planet. They’re like the power lines of the magical world. Any Tier 2-plus mage worth their salt can draw mana from a leyline. And if you work real hard, you can transmute the leyline’s mana and generate all sorts of cool effects.”
“Like what?”
“Each person is better at certain types of transmutations. I’m real good at transmutations called counter-hexes and fortifications, but even within a single talent base, there’s plenty of diversity. For examps, Sheila and Roster are good at fortifications too, but they’ve adapted their craft to produce the rapid casts needed for close-combat battlemagery. They’re aimin’ to be cataphracts; I’m more of a stand-back-and-blast-em. Anyway, leylines are great, and you, my poor little dodo bird, need to learn how to use them. Why, you ask? I’ll tell you why, grubo. It’s because if you can draw in mana from a leyline, you don’t have to spend your own mana reserves to make your casts.”
Zero Sight Page 23