Eye of the Moonrat (The Bowl of Souls: Book One)

by Cooley, Trevor H.

  Vincent moved through the aisles with a precision and grace that belied his gawky frame. Justan, on the other hand, had to constantly bob and weave, dodging students that were moving about. The gnome stopped in front of a large bookcase and took out a wide bound book. It was gilded in gold.

  The gnome handed it to Justan. “Here you are, the Mage School constitution, complete with updated amendments and relevant bills. The part that will interest you is in the Cadet Rules, page one thousand one hundred and forty two, section b, paragraph two, on the second line, I believe. Peruse it at your leisure. Just make sure to return it to me or one of my assistants at the front desk when you are done. I can’t have you putting it back on the wrong shelf.” He pulled a card out of his pocket and started to write a note on it. “Now where are my spectacles?” The gnome mumbled as he patted his pockets and vest.

  “Vincent, I believe that they are on your head,” Justan said.

  The gnome reached up on his head and found them. He pulled them onto his nose. “Very kind of you, very kind of you. Mister . . .” Vincent looked up at him from the card he was writing on.

  “Justan, son of Faldon the Fierce.”

  The gnome stopped scribbling and beamed. He pushed his glasses back to the top of his head. “Faldon the Fierce? My, well this is wonderful! I met him years ago when he was just building his fame. If I remember correctly, he asked me about several books regarding the naming ceremony.”

  “The naming ceremony?” Justan asked, surprised. His father had never mentioned looking into being named himself.

  “Why yes! He was very interested. He came every day for a week. Aisle one hundred and fifty-four, section eight, volumes three through four. Yes what a joy to meet his son, uh, Mister . . .”

  Justan laughed. “Justan.”

  “Ah yes, Justan.” Vincent chuckled. “Silly me! I’m always forgetting such things.” He started patting his vest again. “Now where are those glasses?”

  “On your head, Vincent.”

  He found them. “Oh. Thank you. Well, young man. Don’t worry. If you are lucky, you too may one day meet Faldon the Fierce or perhaps even someone just as famous.” He finished scribbling on the card and put it in his vest pocket. “Off with you now. Shoo, study.” He turned and walked back towards the front desk, tugging his nose as he went.

  Justan carried the bulky book to a table in the center of the room and opened it. There were so many questions he wanted answered. He flipped through the pages of cadet rules, and addendums to the rules, and addendums to the addendums and had to stop. There was no way he was going to make sense of this in one sitting. There were hundreds of pages and it was just too complicated. He decided to start with the rules on carrying weapons in the school. Everything else would have to wait until someone explained it in simpler terms.

  What page had the gnome said it would be on? There was an index in the back of the book that was over a hundred pages long by itself. It took some effort, but he eventually found what he was looking for and turned to the relevant chapter.

  There was a lot of grandiose sounding talk of the dangers of having unstable students running around with swords. Justan snorted. As far as he was concerned, it was a load of nonsense.

  Justan searched further. There was a lot of talk about swords and other bladed weapons being dangerous. There were laws banning the carrying of such arms in any area of the school grounds except for the walls and guard training area. There were many other small provisions and loopholes including the one that allowed the carrying of ceremonial daggers.

  Justan smiled. There was no mention of bows or arrows. He would have to keep his swords put away in his room unless he was sparring with the guards in the training area, but he could bring his bow and quiver with him everywhere. He nodded. That was exactly what he would do. It would be his form of protest for having been brought to the school by deceptive means.

  As he sat there gloating, a musical voice intoned, “You have got to be the first student I have ever seen smiling at the pages of that book.”

  Justan turned and saw a thin student with long dark braided hair wearing black robes with red accents. Justan’s eyebrows shot up as he noticed the student’s pointed ears. He was an elf.

  The student held out his hand in greeting. “I am Qyxal. The professors have asked me to show you around.” Justan shook the offered hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Qyxal. I’m Justan.” The elf’s grip was firm despite his slender frame. “As to why I was smiling at this book, it all seems so silly.”

  “Oh?” The elf took a seat across from him at the table.

  “Like this section here. It details the many ways that students could harm themselves with swords. They get pretty creative here, talking about students accidentally putting their eye out or falling on their own blades.” Justan snickered. “If you ask me, the most dangerous thing that wizards could possibly carry around is their own magic. If they are truly afraid of the students hurting one another, they should make you walk around with your brains removed.”

  Qyxal smiled and shook his head. “Just be careful who you talk like that around. Sarcasm isn’t smiled upon by most of the professors. They take the rules very seriously.”

  Justan lifted the enormous book. “What? Don’t you find these rules funny?”

  “The rules themselves, no. They make perfect sense when you think about it. But I can see the humor in the process the wizards use to come about these laws. The political posturing and maneuvering that goes on to bring them about is quite humorous.”

  Justan leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head. “I must admit, I am quite surprised to see an elf here as a student. I thought that only humans could use magic.”

  Magic interacted differently with each race. It flowed through every fiber of the elves. Justan had recently found that the dwarves also had some form of it flow through their veins as well. But with these races, the use of magic seemed to be all internal. Humans didn’t have any of that inner magic, but every once in a while, they were born with the ability to control magic with their minds. This outward manifestation, which was used by the wizards, was rare in the other races.

  “You are right,” the elf responded. “However, every once in a great while, a human and an elf marry. Such it was with my great grandparents. When I was born, my sect realized that I had inherited this power inside of me. I guess it was one of the factors that led them to live near this place.” He leaned forward. “I hear that you visited with my people on the way here.”

  “You are from the Silvertree Sect?”

  “Yes, and I have got to ask. How did you get so far off of the road as to run into my people?” The two of them chatted for a little while about Justan’s journey and how the sect was doing, though Justan didn’t mention Gwyrtha.

  Justan found himself liking the elf. Qyxal wasn’t arrogant at all. He didn’t even act removed like the rest of his sect that Justan had met. He talked like he was just another human. Perhaps that was something he had needed to do to fit in at the school. Justan doubted that the wizards would put up with arrogance

  “Justan, I for one will be very interested to see how your power develops,” Qyxal said. A bell rang in the distance. Though it sounded muffled in the library, everyone noted it and many of the students cleared out. The elf smiled. “That means it’s time to eat. Are you hungry?”

  Justan nodded. “I’m famished. We didn’t even stop for lunch today.”

  “Good. I didn’t eat lunch either. Follow me.” The elf stood and started for the door.

  Justan stopped him. “Wait, I am going to need to go by my room first. I have some things to drop off. Do you know where I am staying?” Qyxal nodded.

  Justan ran across the library floor to the front desk. Vincent gave Justan a lecture about running in the library, but handed over his weapons.

  Qyxal led the way out of the Rune Tower and across the grounds to a many storied brick building with a sign carved above the door
way. It read “Cadet House” in fancy lettering. They entered the building and walked down a hallway.

  “Here we are.” Qyxal said. He pulled a key out of his robes and handed it to Justan. “Cadet House, room seven. Just put your things away and change, I am starving.”

  Justan opened the door to a small room with two beds, two closets, two desks, and one tiny window. One of the beds was disheveled and clothes and books and shoes were scattered all over the place. He looked back at the elf. “I didn’t know I was going to share a room.”

  “Everyone does,” the elf explained.

  Justan supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. They normally didn’t get their own room in the academy either. “Okay then, who’s my companion?”

  Qyxal grinned. “That one’s a jewel. His name is Piledon, and he’s a third-year cadet. Normally people make it to apprentice by the second year. Let’s just hope that he likes you, because if he doesn’t, your life won’t be too much fun. I hear he’s somewhat of a prankster.”

  Justan groaned. That was the last thing he needed.

  The closet on his side of the room was empty but for one set of clean grey robes. Justan put his pack inside and considered changing into the robes. They were light and looked pretty comfortable, with many concealing pockets, but he wasn’t quite ready to don them yet.

  To Qyxal’s surprise, Justan began strapping on his swords. “What are you doing?”

  Justan smiled. “This is the first time that most of the students will see me and I want to make a good impression.” He bent the Jharro Bow and started stringing it.

  “Yes, but Justan, it isn’t going to be just students in there. The wizards eat with us too. Everyone will be there,” Qyxal emphasized. “Besides, it’s against the rules for a student to carry swords on the grounds.”

  “Ha!” Justan said, while checking all the straps. “I just checked the rules. I am not a student yet. I haven’t been sworn in or signed anything but a letter of intent. For now, I’m just a guest, and there are provisions for allowing guests to wear their weapons. That’s why the guards can go wherever they want and still wear them.” He pushed past Qyxal and into the hall.

  “Well at the very least, it’s rude,” the elf pronounced.

  Justan smiled and bowed to the elf. “I won’t change who I am. This will just be a reminder to everyone who sees me. I’m a warrior first. Now where’s the food?”

  Qyxal sighed. “This way.”

  They crossed the grounds and passed the clock tower to a large building. Even from outside, Justan could smell food cooking and hear hundreds of plates clanking and people talking. They opened the doors to a cacophony of sounds and smells. There were over a hundred tables in this enormous room, and students were eating and chatting amiably. Justan noticed that most of the time, the students with similar colored robes sat together. He made a mental note to find out what the colors meant.

  As Qyxal led him in, the noise died and everyone stared at the new arrival. It was not normal for a man to enter the dining hall dressed for battle. The guards ate at their own part of the grounds and guests were usually shown to a quieter place to eat.

  Justan was a little uncomfortable about the sudden silence, but figured if he had gone this far, why not go all the way? He smiled at everyone and waved, while Qyxal looked down in embarrassment. After a few awkward moments, the students went back to their dinner. Qyxal grabbed Justan’s arm and led him to the serving area.

  The cooks loaded their plates with stew and bread. Justan’s mouth watered. This food looked much better than the stuff they ate at the Training School. Qyxal tried to lead him to a small empty table, but Justan ignored the elf and headed for a large table where eight students were already sitting. There were two empty chairs.

  Qyxal groaned as Justan took a seat. The other students at the table just stared at him with open mouths.

  “Good evening,” Justan said. “Do you mind if my friend and I join you?” He didn’t wait for a response, but pulled out a chair for the elf, which Qyxal reluctantly sat in.

  Justan dipped some bread into the stew and was about to eat it, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. When he saw the way that the other students were smiling, he had a pretty good idea who it was.

  “Justan, what do you think you are doing?” Vannya asked. She winked at the other students at the table. “Hello, boys.” They stammered hellos back at her.

  Justan looked up at her, frustrated. “I think that I am trying to eat this delicious looking stew. Would you like to join us?” The other students at the table jumped up and offered their seats.

  “No, it’s okay guys,” she said to the students. “Justan. We have bigger things to worry about,” she whispered to him urgently.

  Something in her tone made Justan’s smile fade. “What?”

  “Riveren and Zambon are still missing.”

  Justan shrugged. “Well, they really didn’t want to come here in the first place. Maybe they just decided not to.”

  She shook her head and with a deadly serious tone that darkened her pretty face, said, “Their horses just arrived without them.”

  Justan stood up. “Sorry, gentlemen. We’ll have to get to know each other another time.” He grabbed Qyxal’s arm and pulled him to his feet.

  “Hey, what?” the elf complained, having only taken one bite of his food.

  “I’m going to need your help,” Justan said and ran for the door. Qyxal and Vannya hurried after him.

  Chapter Thirty

  Vannya led them across the grounds to the stables. They spoke as they walked. “Why didn’t the arrival of riderless horses raise an alarm?” Justan asked.

  “The incident has been filed away with the clerk. A council session is scheduled in about two hours from now. It will be brought up there.”

  Justan shook his head. He just found another hole in the school's defenses.

  They arrived just as the stableman was leading the warhorses into the stable. They were still saddled up and bridled. Qyxal’s eyes lit up when he saw them.

  “I know those horses,” the elf said. He quickly stopped the stableman. “Hello, Jeffrey,” he said.

  “Why hello, Qyxal! What are you doing down here at this time of day?” The man asked. “You are not scheduled for work until tomorrow morning.”

  “I know, Jeffrey, but my friends and I have some questions.”

  “Sure Qyxal, what can I do to help?”

  “When did Stanza and Albert come in?” Qyxal asked.

  Jeffrey looked up at the clock tower. “They came in about half hour ago, I guess. They were just nibbling on the grass outside the front gate when one of the guards noticed them.”

  “You know these horses?” Justan asked.

  “Why of course he does.” The stableman answered in the elf’s behalf. “Qyxal has volunteered with me for years and Stanza and Albert are two of our finest horses. They go out with every caravan.” He scratched one of them fondly behind the ear. “They were a gift to the school from the Battle Academy years ago, and the guards love them.”

  Qyxal was examining the saddle of one of the horses. “They know the road to the school as well as anyone by now. That’s how they knew to come here.” The elf whispered comforting words to the horse and ran his hands over its flanks, examining it. “There’s a cut along Albert’s side. It looks like an arrow grazed him.”

  “That’s the horse that Zambon was riding,” Justan pointed out.

  “Oh!” Vannya was examining Stanza. “This one has blood on it.” She put her hands over the spot and sent flows of magical energies into it. “That’s human blood, and . . . goblin blood. There's goblin blood too!”

  “Oh my!” the stableman gasped.

  Justan took charge, “Vannya, please go and find some of the wizards, tell them that we are going to look for the missing guards.”

  “Wait, Justan,” Qyxal interrupted. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “He’s right, Justan,” Vannya agreed.
“We should go to the council first and tell them what we have found before you go running off.”

  Justan thought it over quickly. They had a point. In some ways this paralleled the situation when Kenn took Jhonate. He had made the wrong decision then. Was he repeating his mistake? Justan shook his head. No, this situation was different. He had only been in the school for a few hours and no one knew him well enough to listen. If Riveren and Zambon had been in a battle, time was of the essence.

  “You can tell them, Vannya. We don’t have the time to wait. What if Riveren and Zambon are still alive somewhere in need of rescue? We can’t sit around until the council makes a decision. After reading that rulebook, I don’t get the impression they’ll come up with one quickly. Am I wrong?” Both of them shook their heads reluctantly. “I didn’t think so. Come on Qyxal.” Justan put his foot into Stanza’s stirrup.