Faculty of Fire

by Alex Kosh

  Consequently, once having dealt with the Craftsmens’ stronghold, the Academy, Tabernacle could quite easily have moved its army of thousands into the golden city with practically no fighting at all. Not all the Craftsmen would be in the tower at the same moment, and there were still the Schools of the Arts, but the Inquisition was highly skilled in exterminating Magicians one at a time, and it could easily deal with those hindrances, for it was only the Academy and its Assembly, consisting of the finest Craftsmen, that was capable of coordinating the actions of all forces and destroying any enemy without difficulty.

  This was the way it had been for centuries. The way it had been ...

  Scene 1

  Everyone gathered in the Main Hall of the Academy, except for those who were on duty as teleport workmen and other unfortunates who were forced to work during the day of competition. The numerous stands located around the huge Academy Competitive Dome were full.

  The tower shook in the midst of a fight between the Houses of Water and Air. At first no one realized that something out of the ordinary happened. Surprised spectators looked around and competitors were too involved to pay attention to the strange earthquake.

  “What was that?” swept languid murmurs of the audience sitting in the stands.

  Only the High Craftsmen knew something out of the ordinary had occurred. “The Storage area,” said Master Revell after a moment to his colleague.

  “Probably,” Master Rominus agreed.

  Both Craftsmen quickly and quietly got up from their seats and headed to the tower. Following their example, several men in red livery also left, but before they could get halfway to the teleports, one of the platforms started working and a portly stone figure appeared atop the barrel in the bright glow.

  “Troll!” cried the stunned Craftsman.

  All the Craftsmen immediately put on their air-shields and feverishly began weaving a network of complex attack spells. They knew that their magic did not work on the trolls but they had a certain set of spells with enough strength to damage skin made of stone.

  Meanwhile, the rest of the open teleports released more stone trolls.

  “This is an attack!” cried Master Revell in disbelief. “But how, and who would dare?”

  He slipped a deadly spell from his hands that transformed one of the assailants into a pile of stones.

  “And what do they expect to accomplish?” echoed Romius.

  Spectators sitting in the stands, knew that something was wrong and jumped from their seats, unable to understand what was happening in the teleports. Now even the competitors realized that the impossible had happened. Those who quickly reacted to the situation tried with all haste to join the defending Craftsmen. But no one paid any attention to the dark hooded figure in the student’s livery darting between the teleports directing the trolls as they appeared.

  The Higher Craftsmen immediately noticed a new development: “The energy level has lowered!” Cried Master Revell.

  “They’ve done something to our Storage!” Romius added, “It is urgent that we stop wasting our magic on combat spells!”

  The other Craftsmen in the room turned and realized at the same time that it was too late. They ran to help other people, spending their last bits of energy on protective spells.

  Despite their efforts it was difficult to save energy on spells. Roaring in pain, trolls rushed forward until their crumbling stone bodies smashed into the Craftsmen’s shields and broke into small pieces under a volley of combat spells. Whoever directed this attack had planned wisely: the first wave of attackers forced the Craftsmen to spend virtually all their energy in the Main Hall. Once their spells had weakened the trolls successfully broke through the air-shields. The first defensive line of Craftsman were swatted by stone fists, hit the great wall and collapsed like a handful of shapeless rags. Trolls roared in triumph and rushed to the attack with renewed vigor while the Craftsmen began to retreat, gathering their remaining bits of energy in an attempt to guard themselves from the advancing stone giants.

  “Any ideas?” I asked in a slightly trembling voice when I got back up on my feet.

  The fall was the least of my worries. I suddenly felt such an acute sense of danger that I wanted to run off to my room and hide under the bed. But the others’ response was more optimistic, maybe because they didn’t have the kind of prophetic dreams that I did.

  “We’ll fight!” Alice declared with a flash of fangs and an excited smile.

  “Who are we going to fight?” Naive exclaimed. “What are you talking about anyway?”

  Chas looked at him in amazement.

  “You were told already, the Tabernaclian invaders. What’s so hard to understand?”

  Neville laughed in Chas’s face.

  Well, if even the imperturbable Neville was acting like that, things had to be really serious.

  “Who told us? You? And just what gives you the idea that someone’s attacked the Academy? Maybe it’s just ... just ...”

  “Just that suddenly, right out of the blue, the tower swayed like a stalk of wheat in the wind. But that’s nothing! That happens every day!” Chas said sarcastically. “Next you’ll tell me it was just the lads in the team duel getting carried away with their spells.”

  “Boys, don’t waste time,” said Alice, stopping our argument dead. “All we need to do is get back to the Main Hall, and we’ll find out what happened.”

  “Then why are you just standing there like stuffed dummies?” asked Chas, and darted off at a run towards the teleports. There was nothing left to do but follow him.

  “Just to be on the safe side, why don’t I go first and check things out,” Chas suggested when we caught up with him. “If everything’s okay, I’ll come back and tell you.”

  We nodded in agreement. If Chas wanted to be a hero so badly, why not let him go ahead?

  Chas stepped onto the platform of the teleport ... and nothing happened. He shrugged in bewilderment and stood on the next teleport ...

  The same thing again.

  “After two months you still haven’t learned to use the teleports,” Neville joked nervously.

  Chas looked at him angrily, but he didn’t say anything and moved to the next round platform ...

  After a final failure on the thirteenth platform, Chas gave up.

  “Now are you still going to tell me everything’s all right?”

  “So what if the teleports aren’t working,” Neville said uncertainly. “They forgot to renew them, so they stopped working.”

  Suddenly one of the teleports lit up with a bright flash.

  “There, now they’ll renew them, and everything will be ...” Neville began, but he never reached the end of his reassuring statement.

  “I’d say we’re the ones about to be renewed!” Chas croaked in a flabbergasted voice.

  The rest of us were struck dumb. We just stood there and stared at what had emerged from the teleport.

  “Rrrr,” said the seven-feet-tall stone troll by way of greeting.

  Yes, an absolutely genuine troll. I’d never seen a real one before, but I knew these endearing stone creatures very well from the history books.

  “I have a suggestion,” Chas said in a whisper.

  “What is it?” Neville asked just as quietly.

  “Run!” Chas yelled in a strange-sounding voice and went sprinting away along the corridor.

  Panic is an infectious kind of thing.

  We didn’t recover our wits until we were all in my room.

  “Did you see that?” Naive asked in a trembling voice.

  “No, we didn’t see any seven-feet-tall stone troll. You imagined it,” said Chas, unable to resist a jibe.

  “But what is it doing here?” asked Alice, glancing anxiously at the door

  “Go and ask him,” Chas suggested obligingly.

  If sarcasm was pouring out of him in double portions, it meant he was badly frightened too. And there was nothing really surprising about that ...

  “L
et’s barricade the door, just to be on the safe side,” suggested Neville, as prudent as ever.

  My long-suffering bed and only cupboard were immediately pressed into service.

  “So what are we going to do?” I ventured to ask.

  “Sit here as quiet as mice and pray to all the gods that stone monster doesn’t find us,” Alice suggested.

  So where was all her fighting spirit now?

  “Better pray that he’s not even looking for us,” Chas corrected her.

  We heard a polite knock at the door.

  “Yikes!” squealed Naive, starting in surprise. He had just leaned against the cupboard, which was leaning against the bed, which was pressed up against the door.

  “Who is it?” I asked warily.

  “I beg your pardon, but would you mind coming out of the room and following me?” someone enquired politely in a deep, booming voice. “And there was absolutely no need to run away screaming, that was stupid at the very least, because there’s nowhere for you to go.”

  “Is that really a troll?” Alice asked in a low voice, sounding amazed. “My goodness, how very cultured ...”

  “We know what these cultured types are like,” Chas hissed. “First they draw you into idle conversation, and then ... Bang! You get a stone fist on the head, and that’s the end of you ...”

  “We beg your pardon too,” Alice said in a loud voice, “but could you possibly please explain to us exactly why we ought to follow you?”

  “Now, there’s fancy talking for you,” Chas whispered.

  “Well you see, dear lady, it’s like this” the troll boomed in reply. “If you don’t come out in a minute, I shall be obliged to come in, take all five of you by the scruff of the neck and drag you out into the corridor. As you no doubt already realise, it’s absolutely pointless to resist, none of your magic will work on me, so better come out yourselves, while I’m still feeling well-disposed.” The troll thought for a moment and added. “With all due respect.”

  “Rea-lly cultured,” said Chas, mimicking Alice. “Just wait until this cultured troll smears you across the wall, that’ll teach you.”

  “What are our options? Should we surrender?” sober-minded Neville enquired.

  “I’ll give you surrender,” said Chas, waving his fist at Neville. “We have to think of how to get out of this place.”

  We glanced round the room and our eyes came to rest on the only window.

  “Why don’t we leap out?” Chas suggested. “We’ll fly for a while ... and then we’ll be smashed to smithereens.”

  “Our vampiress should be able to fly, she won’t be smashed to smithereens,” Neville remarked. “Alice, what’s your carrying capacity?”

  “Zero,” the vampiress snarled. “And as it happens, I haven’t been taught to levitate yet, just like you.”

  “So maybe you could learn?” Chas suggested kind-heartedly. “You know the way little birdies are taught? They just boot them out of the nest, and they fly ...”

  “I’ll give you a boot up the backside in a moment,” Alice said menacingly, taking a step towards Chas. “And you’ll fly all the way to Tabernacle!”

  “Wait, what if we tie the curtains together and climb down to the next floor?” Neville suggested.

  “I’m not climbing anywhere at this height!” Naive immediately protested. “And anyway, there aren’t any windows on the floor below us ...”

  “You’re right, but I have an idea,” I said

  “Well, get on with it!”

  “I’m not absolutely certain, but I think I still remember the spell that lad gave me, the one I used to climb up the wall ...” – I faltered for a moment.

  “When you shaved that lousy squirt’s head,” Alice interrupted. “We understand. Do it!”

  “I’ll need time,” I said, reckoning up the numbers in my head. “At least fifteen minutes.”

  “I doubt if the troll will wait that long.”

  The troll spoke again, as if he was replying to what Chas had said.

  “How long are you going to go on thinking in there? I’m warning you, my patience is running out.”

  “We’re coming out!” Alice shouted, gesturing for me to start weaving the spell. “Tell me, what do you want us for anyway?”

  “I don’t what you,” the troll laughed. “You’re not really my type.”

  “Why not?” asked Alice, suddenly taking offence.

  I don’t know why she was offended, she ought to have been delighted.

  “Because I prefer roasted rabbits,” said the troll, with a dreamy note in his voice. “You know, all crispy on the outside ...”

  “He’s playing with us!” howled Naive, who had been dreaming of nothing but meat for ages.

  I listened to this conversation with half an ear while I prepared to work my spell.

  “Then what do you want us for?” Neville asked and went into the bathroom.

  I could understand him, I was feeling pretty badly scared myself.

  But a few seconds later, Neville came leaping out of the bathroom with a bucket in his hand.

  “It’s not me who wants you, but the one who sent me,” the troll obligingly explained.

  “He sent you a long way,” Chas remarked under his breath. “It takes a very sick imagination to send a troll to the Academy.”

  Meanwhile in my mind I was patiently working through the weaving of the spell known in the vernacular as “the weed” – a kind of climbing plant that grew very quickly, but only in the direction that was set for it.

  I leaned rather warily out of the window and gazed into the darkness – it had a particularly depressing effect on me right now ...

  Just as I’d gathered my strength together and readied myself to complete the spell, Chas nudged me on the shoulder. I couldn’t tell if it was accidental or deliberate ... but the spell was instantly knocked completely out of my head.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I exploded. “You’ve ruined the entire spell.”

  “Aha, that’s right, put the blame someone else,” Chas exclaimed indignantly. “Why not just say you forgot how to weave it?”

  “I forgot?”

  “Yes, you.”

  “I’ve never forgotten anything in my life!”

  Chas opened his mouth to utter another of his sarcastic remarks, but then ...

  “I’m coming in!” the deep rumbling voice said outside the door, and our barricade suddenly flew apart.

  “Scram!” Chas shouted and started dashing round the room.

  The troll stopped in the entrance and stared in bewilderment at Chas tearing around my room.

  “Sick in the head, is he?” the troll asked thoughtfully.

  We answered with philosophical shrugs.

  “Everybody out, while I’m still feeling well-disposed,” the troll told us. “You still have a chance to walk out on your own two feet.”

  Chas suddenly stopped dashing around, turned to face the troll and shot a fireball at him.

  “Pah!” said the troll, brushing it aside with his hand. “What sort of nonsense is that? You oblige me to take action ...”

  “No, you oblige us to take action,” Neville laughed and poured the water from his bucket under the troll’s feet.

  “Another sick one?” the troll asked in surprise.

  “You great fool,” Neville said resentfully, and he wove the ice spell that we’ve already seen.

  The troll took a step towards us, intending to enlighten us further concerning the futility and undesirability of employing magic in his presence, and he slipped on the ice. Attaboy, Neville!

  “Don’t just stand there!” Neville roared. “Run for it!”

  Somehow we managed to dash round the troll who had collapsed on the floor and dart out into the corridor.

  “Now where to?” screamed Chas.

  “Stop yelling, you idiot!” Neville retorted furiously.

  “I’m an idiot?” exclaimed Chas, offended. “It was me who distracted him, by
the way!”

  “You’re both idiots!” said Alice, cuffing both of them in the back of the head. “Shut up and run ... follow Naive.”

  “Why me all of a sudden?” our naive friend asked indignantly.