by Duncan Pile
“And the other young lady,” said the teacher, moving on to Lydia. “You are...?”
“Lydia,” replied the gypsy girl calmly, with the quiet confidence that added mystery to her demeanour. She also was receiving admiring stares from the boys, and Gaspi couldn’t help feeling indignant on Taurnil’s behalf, whose interest in Lydia was obvious - at least, to him.
“And where does your talent lie?” asked the teacher.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Lydia answered, “but I have the Sight.” Noticing some confused looks, she added: “I can see the future sometimes. My people call me a Seer.”
The teacher looked fascinated at this, an eyebrow rising sharply into his forehead. “A rare gift indeed,” he said, “and not one that normally comes unaccompanied by others. And who are your people, my dear?”
“I’m a gypsy,” Lydia answered proudly.
“Ah yes, of course,” the teacher said. “I should have known. A people with a long history of talent. I shall look forward to seeing your gift unfold.”
He turned his attention to Gaspi, who had been dreading this moment.
“And what about you, young sir?” he asked.
Gaspi didn’t see any way to avoid the inevitable. Faced with the flat stares of Everand and Ferast, he forced a confidence he didn’t feel. “I’m Gaspi,” he said. “I’m a Nature Mage.” Emea looked around in puzzlement as some of the boys snickered. Ferast leaned across and whispered something in Everand’s ear, who snorted with laughter, but the teacher didn’t seem to notice any of it.
“A Nature Mage!” he said quietly. “A rare gift! We are lucky indeed to have you with us. And how did your power first manifest itself?” he asked eagerly.
Gaspi knew he had to give some kind of answer, but he desperately didn’t want to expose painful memories in front of the class. “Someone I know was being attacked, and I defended them. It just kind of happened,” he finished vaguely, hoping that would be enough.
“What kind of happened?” the teacher asked, insensitive to Gaspi’s discomfort. Gaspi didn’t know how to answer. He paused for a few moments, trying to think of something to say that would satisfy the teacher’s curiosity, but he couldn’t come up with anything.
Gaspi’s shoulders drooped. “I took control of the birds around me and attacked them,” he said in a defeated tone. The hush in the classroom was palpable, until it was broken by Everand snorting with laughter. Several students followed his lead.
The teacher looked around in confusion, before turning his attention back to Gaspi.
“I’m sure you had a good reason,” he said, looking at Gaspi intently for a long second. “A Nature Mage, eh?” he said, evidently fascinated by the prospect of having such a student under his tutelage. Gaspi squirmed uncomfortably under the teacher’s scrutiny.
“Well, fair is fair,” he said, briskly. “I should introduce myself too. I am Professor Worrick, teacher of all things arcane, and specifically matter manipulation - though none of you are ready for that, yet. I am also the Dean of students, and responsible for your care.”
He continued to direct his attention to the three newcomers. “You must have many questions. Most of them will have to wait, but is there anything you’re burning to know before we begin our class today?”
Lydia’s hand shot in the air. “Yes, Lydia?”
“I was wondering where we fit into this class?” she asked. “I mean, how can we catch up with the other students? Shouldn’t we be in a beginner’s class, or something?”
“Ah, I see you are labouring under a misconception,” said the professor, with a smile. “None of your classmates here are experienced magicians.” Some of the students puffed themselves up defensively, feeling their prowess was being underrated. “They only embarked on their studies within the last few months. The truth is that magical ability always manifests itself around your age, a year after at the latest. All your fellow students in this class have only just started touching their talent. If anyone else arrives in the next few months, we will allow them to join the class. After that, they will have to wait until we have enough new students to start a new class. We call this the first year for simplicity’s sake, but in reality we’ll teach you as a group until you’re ready to move on to the next stage of your studies, and the class will be disbanded. That normally takes between a year and eighteen months. You’ll all be assigned special tutors according to your abilities, so you’ll find it easy to catch up with anything you’ve missed.”
Gaspi was relieved that they were not so far behind; he felt like Everand and his friends had less of an advantage over him. He inwardly determined to develop his powers as quickly as possible, so he’d be able to hold his own against the other boys if necessary.
“Any more questions?” Lydia’s hand went up again. “Yes, my dear?”
“If we all have different talents, then why do we study together? Shouldn’t we learn on our own, from someone with our talent?”
“Ah, I see,” responded the professor. “No-one has explained how this all works to you yet. Well, permit me to enlighten you. Your talent is how magic has found its first manifestation in you, but it is not the only magic you can do. Studying magic is like exploring a broad and complex landscape. There are endless varieties of power, and each is expressed uniquely through an individual, as each individual is unique! The fact that you started with healing or prophecy, or even nature magic, means that is the most natural form for arcane power to find its outlet in you, and your talent, will be most strongly expressed in that way. But you can learn something of other forms of magic. Some you’ll have success with and some will be like wrestling a bear, but no-one practices a single branch of magic on its own.”
A thoughtful look stole across Professor Worrick’s face. “There are some who seem to be able to practice almost any branch of magic, but they are few and far between, and here at the college we teach you to focus on your strengths and to learn the basics of other disciplines. Does that answer your question?”
Lydia looked a little confused, but nodded anyway. Obviously feeling he had explained the essence of magical talent, the professor began the class, which was on imbuing physical objects with magical properties.
“The most notable example of this is surrounding us at this very moment,” said Professor Worrick, at the end of a lengthy explanation of which kind of materials take an enchantment most effectively, and something of the theory of how it is done. He pirouetted slowly in a full circle with his arms turned outwards. When he was facing the class again he asked, “Does anyone know what I’m talking about?”
“The wall,” answered the girl who’d smiled at Emea earlier.
“Exactly, Temalia,” said the professor. “The wall! It is not made of naturally magical stone - there is no such thing, of course. It’s actually constructed from a mineral found not fifty miles away that takes enchantment extremely well. In the distant past we mined, shaped and enchanted it, imbuing it with the properties that make it the effective barrier it is. The enchantment shows itself in the glow, which no doubt you have noticed.”
Gaspi’s hand went up. “What exactly does it do?” he asked.
“It forms a barrier against certain forces. When a creature is driven by a destructive intent they exude a kind of energy, which we can identify if we know what to look for. Anything trying to cross that threshold exuding that energy would be resisted, and if they continued to force their way through they would be consumed.”
“Consumed?” asked Ferast, with a kind of curious intensity.
“Burned to a crisp,” said Professor Worrick lightly.
A small, curly-haired boy raised his hand. “But professor, what if one of us was really angry at someone, wouldn’t it…get us too?”
“Angry at someone in particular, are we, Matthius?” he asked, with a smile. “I’m only pulling your leg,” he said, when Matthius protested. “It’s a good question. There’s a vast difference between anger and murderous intent. All emo
tions cause us to emit an energy signature. Have you ever walked into a room and found it taut with tension you could cut with a knife, but nobody has spoken?” Several students grunted in assent.
“The wall is enchanted to detect and resist only the kind of murderous hate a truly evil person could feel,” Professor Worrick continued. “Even if one of you were to hate someone enough to want to harm them, you would still be conflicted in your conscience, feeling guilt and uncertainty, maybe fear, and these counter-feelings would muddle the energy signature. The only creatures that would be detected by the barrier are those who have a single, destructive thought in mind with no balancing emotional signatures. In fact, the barrier was not designed to resist human evil, which is complex in nature, but the kind of evil you find in summoned creatures such as demons, who carry nothing but darkness and know nothing of warmth or love. If the barrier ever resists you, Matthius, you would have travelled so far down the road to evil as to be irredeemable."
The professor’s explanation left a palpable silence in the room; the air seemed heavier, and the light gloomy and oppressive. Gaspi shook his head to clear it, as the professor spoke again. “I think it’s time for a demonstration.”
Indicating that the students should follow, the professor picked up something that was not much larger than Gaspi’s schoolbag from the shelf behind him. It was cylindrical and covered with a red velvet cloth. He led the students out of the room and all the way to the main gate at the entrance to the campus.
“Line up just inside the gate, if you will,” he said, indicating a spot some yards inside the arching span of glowing stone. Gaspi wondered what he could be doing, as he had a quick discussion with the gatekeeper. What was under that cloth? Professor Worrick placed the covered item on the ground just outside the wall, and walked back to stand with the class.
“This,” he announced, gesticulating in the direction of the covered object, “is a dJin,” - and with a purposeful flourish of his hand the cloth flew off what revealed itself to be a cage, landing on the ground beside it. The second the cloth was off the cage, a bundle of fury ripped into the silver bars, hissing and growling with unrelenting venom. It was hard to see what the creature was beyond an impression of blazing eyes and flashing teeth and claws. Its hard little arms banged noisily against the cage, its feet scrabbling at the floor. What was not hard to identify was a single-minded will to destroy. It was filled with hate - not a tempered, steel-edged anger, but a slavering, mindless intent to rend limb from limb - and the focus of its hate was them.
Professor Worrick kept his eyes on the cage while addressing the class. “Whatever happens, don’t move through the gate!”
Before anyone had a chance to ask any questions, a flick of his wrist released the catch on the cage door, which sprung open, and the dJin spilled out onto the ground. Not even stopping to right itself, it lurched forward into a headlong sprint, using its hands as much as its feet to gain purchase, sharp claws digging jagged furrows in the dirt. Most of the class uniformly leapt back in horror, recoiling from the ferocity of the aggressive dJin, which clearly wanted nothing more than to tear them apart. Emea grabbed Gaspi’s arm and half-hid behind him.
The dJin veered towards Professor Worrick, letting out a grating snarl that sounded like it was tearing its own throat apart. When it reached the gate and tried to pass under the arch, its frantic movements were suddenly arrested as if it was caught in thick treacle, affording the class a clear view of its form. It had a small, potato-like head, lumpy and ill-formed, with flashing little black eyes that were flitting back and forth angrily, trying to find the source of its sudden restriction. Its mouth was a narrow gash crowded with sharp, pointed brown teeth, below the slightest hint of a nose, barely a bump in its face. It was hard and hairless, rippling with chorded muscle so rigid the rough grey skin was pulled tight almost to splitting.
This creature seemed built for killing alone, each muscular limb ending in thick, wicked black claws. Heavy veins bulged on its neck as it strained against the invisible barrier, its feet digging into the ground again and again as it surged fruitlessly forward.
“Now, watch!” said Professor Worrick. “It has nothing but hate. It won’t stop, even though it will destroy it to keep going. The enchantment held in the stone is designed to resist evil, not to kill indiscriminately, but if something continues to push against it, unrelenting in its hate, then the barrier will begin to cause them pain, burning the invader with increasing heat, and if that doesn’t stop them, they will burn up.” He said nothing more, but stared at the dJin, waiting for the inevitable to happen.
The dJin’s snarl turned to a hiss of pain when smoke began to curl from its skin. As the pain increased, the creature spat and roared alarmingly, its fevered gaze flicking from person to person as its anger swelled, stimulated to new heights by escalating pain levels. The hiss of pain turned to frightful cries as tiny flames flickered along its arms and torso, and then its legs and shoulders. Emea hid her face in Gaspi’s shoulder at the horrible sight, but Gaspi couldn’t feel sorry for the dJin. Even in the face of its own death its only feeling was hate, its only thoughts of killing them. Its cries turned into screeches of torturous agony as its head went up in a ball of flame, and all they could see was a writhing ball of fire flailing with dying strength against the barrier. The sound stopped as its lungs finally gave out, and it collapsed in a ball of smoking dust, utterly consumed by the magic of the barrier.
The class stood in shocked silence. Gaspi glanced around, and saw Ferast staring at him, or more precisely at the way Emea leaned into him. No-one had known until this moment that there was something between them, but the lank-haired boy had clearly taken notice. Gaspi could have sworn that Ferast’s gaze had a calculating edge, but then Professor Worrick was speaking again and he looked away.
“Could you manage that level of hate, Matthius?” Professor Worrick asked. Matthius shook his head mutely. “Then you don’t need to worry about the barrier.” As he led them back to the classroom, whispering broke out in small groups, excitement replacing the shock of witnessing the horrid creature’s painful death:
“Did you see it burn? Whoosh!”
“Never seen anything like it...”
“I thought it was going to get through for a moment!”
Professor Worrick had to calm them down when they were all back in their seats.
“I’ve been teaching long enough to know that you won’t listen now if I bore you about enchantments. What would you like to know about the dJin?”
“Where does it come from?” a slim, dark-haired girl at the back asked. Professor Worrick looked thoughtful, and was silent for so long that they began to think he wasn’t going to answer. He stood staring out of the small window by his desk, hands clasped behind his back.
“The dJin is from Hades,” he answered at last. “It is a demon.” Lydia gasped, hand clapped over her mouth. Everand looked incredulous, Ferast almost eager. Gaspi didn’t understand the reactions of their classmates. He’d heard of demons, but not in any way that made him believe they were real. They were the subject of fireside tales told by old folks to scare youngsters.
“Demons are very real,” Professor Worrick said, as if reading Gaspi’s mind. “They inhabit a plane far harsher than this one, where it is kill or be killed, where the mighty crush the weak without a thought. They are summoned to our realm to do our bidding by those with the skill, bound with powerful spells so they cannot attack their summoner. The dJin is the lowest of all demonic forms. It has no magical power and is not physically strong, though in our realm it is a ferocious killer despite its small stature. In the demonic realm, they are no more than ants. They live in giant underground complexes, finding safety in numbers, but are no more than a nuisance to the real forces of that plane.”
Faced with the fact that demons were real, Gaspi started to wonder about the creature that had attacked them at the gypsy camp. Was it a demon too? Something else niggled at Gaspi, something that didn
’t add up about what Professor Worrick had said, but it remained just out of reach.
“Any more questions?” Professor Worrick asked.
“Did you summon it, sir?” asked Emea. And then Gaspi understood what was bothering him. If the dJin couldn’t get past the wall of the college, then how did it get in?
“Me?” exclaimed the Professor with dark amusement. “No, my dear. Summoning is forbidden. It is a dark art punishable by Severing.” Professor Worrick must have spotted Gaspi’s confused expression. “Severing is the ultimate punishment for a magician,” he explained. “It’s the full and final severing of your magical power.”
A heavy silence reigned in the classroom for several seconds, before Professor Worrick continued with his lesson. “To summon and control an evil creature, a demon of any type, takes the kind of magic you would not want to be involved in. And besides,” he added, “I wouldn’t have the power. It takes extraordinary talent to be able to summon even the smallest demon, and my skills lie elsewhere.” He lapsed into silence.
Gaspi put his hand up. “So, how did it get here?” he asked.
“And that is where I cannot go any further,” the professor answered. “It’s an important question, but it takes us into areas Hephistole would not have you study yet. Please accept my apologies, young Mage, but for now you must suspend your curiosity.” Professor Worrick clapped his hands together. “And now it is time to return to the topic of enchantment,” he said, accompanied by the disappointed groans of the students.
Chapter 12
Gaspi listened intently as the lesson continued, eager to learn as much as he possibly could as quickly as possible.