CHAPTER ELEVEN - The Test of Power
I suddenly felt very strange. It seemed like that teeny little half drop I drank was oozing its way down through my body, all the way to my toes. It didn’t feel like power at all. It felt more like I had an overpowering urge to throw up–but couldn’t!
All three of the wizards were looking curiously at Poindexter and me. And then they did a strange thing. Rather, Hornsby and Skinpeeler did a strange thing. They started to laugh! It wasn’t a pleasant laugh, like when you’ve heard a good joke. It was a cruel laugh, like when you’ve just done something horrible and are proud of it. And standing behind them, I saw Mr. Marlin hang his head down in shame and sorrow! What was going on now?
“Thank you, Mr. Drywater,” said Hornsby with a flourish. “And you too, Mr. Poindexter. You see, we had a little problem. We had the potion ready to use, and we had found you two as our possible missing ingredient, since you both have a flair for wizardry if given wizard power. But the potion will only truly work if the human who drinks it does so willingly, rather than being forced. So, if we had forced you to drink the potion, it would have had no effect on you at all!” He smiled jubilantly as if he had just told the funniest joke in the world.
“You mean,” said Poindexter slowly, “that this whole duel thing was—“
“Another trick?” said Hornsby. “Yes, that’s exactly right. We had to find a way to induce you to drink the potion willingly, knowing what it was, and knowing how we intended to use it. Only in that way does the potion give you a full measure of its power!”
“You deceived us?” I said, looking piercingly at Mr. Marlin. “Again?” He still hung his head in shame, and wouldn’t look me in the eye. The fire below him and shark mouth above were gone. “This whole thing was just a big trick, to get me to drink the potion out of pity for you, because I thought it would save you?” He continued to stare dismally at the floor.
“Ah, but don’t forget,” said Mr. Hornsby, “your decision to drink it helped you too, my boy. I suspect that what made you finally decide to drink it was the thought that, even though you no longer fully trusted Mr. Marlin, you’d still rather be controlled by him than by Skinpeeler. Am I right?”
I nodded in agreement, unable to speak.
“Then you can hardly blame Mr. Marlin,” Hornsby said. “The key thing is, that you drank it willingly, in spite of everything else. But unfortunately, your notion about who would control you is not correct.” Mr. Hornsby’s ridiculous smile broadened even more. “Neither one of them will control you, or ever could control you. That was only another little lie we told you. Indeed, only I can control you!”
“NO!” cried Poindexter, rising to his feet. He was seething with rage so much that it looked like the blood vessels would pop out of his neck.
“Oh, yes, I’m afraid it’s true,” said Hornsby with a self-satisfied laugh. “They’re only junior wizards, after all. Why give control of the most powerful potion in the wizarding world to one of them? It needs to be controlled by a master—someone with millennia of experience, who knows how to use it!” He suddenly looked frenzied and wild eyed. Mary Ellen Paul was wrong. He was not a very good teacher.
“I don’t have any power,” I said suddenly, surprised that I was so calm. “None at all. You couldn’t use me if you wanted to!”
“Oh, you don’t think so, eh?” he said with a gleam in his eye. Suddenly, he pointed at the clock. “Look at the clock!” he commanded. Against our wills, both Poindexter and I looked. “Mr. Drywater, please turn the clock into a pepperoni pizza with anchovies and mushrooms.”
I hate anchovies. But suddenly, where the clock used to be, was the accursed pizza that Hornsby had asked for! Since the pizza was on its side on the wall, the cheese and pepperoni all started to ooze down toward the floor, leaving a yucky looking red streak on the wall.
“The only amusing and unexpected development in all this,” said Hornsby, pacing back and forth before us, “is that I didn’t expect both of you to drink the potion. Now I have two of you rather than just one. I had thought of splitting up the formula, of course, to increase the number of humans under my control, but I decided not to because I thought that would weaken the result. Better to have one all-powerful human that I could control, rather than two or more weaker ones. Now however, I have no choice in the matter. We’ll have to do a little testing, to see the extent of your powers—to see which of you is stronger, and therefore which of you I will use the most.”
“You mongrel!” cried Poindexter. “You won’t get away with this!”
Hornsby looked at him with interest. “If I didn’t need you so much, I wouldn’t bother with you. And perhaps I won’t. If Mr. Drywater proves himself to have enough of the power, I may simply dispose of you as being of no further use.”
“If we’ve got so much power, what makes you think we won’t use it to destroy YOU?” cried Poindexter.
“Try it,” said Hornsby with a yawn. Poindexter glared at him. He flung his hands in the air and danced around. He made weird faces at Hornsby, and called him a few more names, some of which are not polite to repeat in public. Anywhere else and at any other time I would have laughed, he was so comical. Nothing happened.
“You see,” said Hornsby calmly, “you have no personal power at all. The only power you can exercise is if I tell you to do something. So I have absolutely nothing to worry about. You aren’t dangerous to me in the least!”
“Mr. Hornsby, please!” said Mr. Marlin, stepping forward. I was surprised that his voice was shaking and he looked profoundly worried. “I beg of you, don’t do this! I’ve played along and done what you required of me, but unwillingly. Let Drywater go! This is too much for him.”
Mr. Hornsby just scoffed at him in return. “Don’t try acting all self-righteous to me!” he cried. “Coming to this school was your idea, remember? We originally were going to start at a mall and just kidnap a few of the more capable looking goons we found there. But you insisted on going to a school of young people, telling us that their powers would be greater because of their youth!”
“But I tell you, he’s not ready!” cried Marlin, wringing his hands. “He’s still too fragile! You could kill him! Then what good would the potion do you?”
My hands were shaking uncontrollably. I had long since passed the point where I could handle what was going on. I found myself staring blankly at the wall beneath the pizza/clock, counting the number of pepperonis that were still clinging to the goo.
Mr. Hornsby looked at me curiously. “Why don’t we go and have a little test of Mr. Drywater’s powers, then?” he said calmly. “We’ll see if your fears are well founded.” He paused. “After all,” he added slyly, “if he proves too weak as you say, and is destroyed by his new power, I still have Poindexter …”
Before Poindexter could scream another insult at him, he waved his wand. And in that instant the world seemed to turn upside down. The breath was crushed out of me as I felt myself traveling at tremendous speed—so fast that everything around me was just a meaningless blur.
And then we stopped. I fell instantly to my hands and knees. I was so weak! It felt like someone had reached in with a pair of pliers and pulled all the strength right out of me.
“Are you o.k.?” said a shaky voice next to me. It was Poindexter. He was down on the ground too, and his face looked white as paste. But in spite of his weakness, he looked at me with uncharacteristic concern in his bulging eyes.
I merely nodded. I couldn’t say anything, since my tongue felt thicker than a dirty old sweatsock.
“Well, Marlin, your doomsday prediction is absolutely wrong so far,” said Hornsby’s voice above me, cheerfully. “There isn’t a human on earth that could have made such a long trip, and still have anything other than mush in their brains. They didn't have the protection this time that your jump rope gave them when they went to England. But our two little specimens seem to be just fine, although slightly shaken …”
I could sense him peering down at
me. Suddenly I felt something cold and clammy on my chin, pulling my head up. It was his hand! He looked deep into my eyes. Then he laughed.
Turning to Marlin, he said joyously, “You young cad, you! His eyes show that he’s stronger for the journey, not weaker! What sort of nonsense are you trying to spread, about his not being ready!”
I sure didn’t feel stronger. I felt like I was about to gag in my own saliva.
“I’m telling you, it’s still too much for him,” said Mr. Marlin worriedly. “Look at how he still can’t get up!”
“Could you, the first time you traveled that fast without a protection?” said Hornsby with a sneer. “Come off it, Marlin. Stop playing games! He’s ready! And we’re going to test him right now!”
“Stop!” cried Mr. Marlin desperately. “If the Steward of Light were here, you wouldn’t do this. You wouldn’t dare!”
I looked at Mr. Marlin groggily. Who in the blazes was the Steward of Light?
Hornsby sneered at him. “The Steward of Light is dead!” he said with contempt. “Everybody knows that!” Roughly, he pulled me to my feet. For the first time, I took notice of my surroundings. We seemed to be on a barren mountain side, partially covered in snow. Not far away was what looked like a small castle, constructed in a strange oriental style.
“My boy,” said Hornsby blandly, “we are now in North Korea. We traveled here in just under two seconds. That castle yonder belongs to a certain band of wizards who have shut themselves off from the rest of the wizarding world, and who threaten death to any wizard who comes near them. They are said to be developing some new weapon that will give them greater power than any other group of wizards on earth.”
I didn’t say anything. This was ridiculous and impossible. I closed my eyes tightly. Maybe if I kept them shut, this whole bizarre nightmare would go away.
“Open your eyes!” commanded Hornsby. My eyes popped open against their will. “I command you to go to the castle and knock it down! Kill any wizard who opposes you!”
“NO!” cried Marlin. “You’re asking too much of him! Stop, before it’s too late!” Hornsby just sneered at him.
I could feel a strange sensation rising up within me. It felt like a fire was shooting through me with bolts of energy so powerful that nothing on earth could contain them. It seemed suddenly as if sparks must be shooting out of my eyes. This was unreal! The pocket watch I still held in my hand was glowing like a neon sign.
“My boy,” said Mr. Marlin, who had suddenly come over and put his hands on my shoulders. “Before you do this, I just want you to remember one thing.” He looked deep into my eyes, almost as if he were looking into my soul. My whole body still felt like it was shooting sparks. His eyes looked bloodshot, droopy, watery and yet strangely intense. And then he said unexpectedly, “Remember our second lesson. It’s only a textbook.”
He let go of me and I felt a wave of confusion and disappointment wash over me. What kind of nonsense advice was that? I looked down at him—and then realized that I wasn’t supposed to be looking down on him because he was taller than me! I was floating up in the air! This was bizarre.
Suddenly my body shot toward the castle like a streak of lightning. I tried to pull back, but found that I couldn’t. I looked down, and sparks were flying out of my hands—real sparks! I felt like Phillip Booth who was hit by lightning—only the lightning was inside me, fighting like crazy to get out!
My finger pointed involuntarily toward the castle. “NO!” I cried, trying to stop my own actions. But it was no use. A bolt of green light shot from my finger and demolished a wall of the castle. My finger pointed to the left, toward the front entrance. Another bolt of light disintegrated it in a shattering mass of sparks.
Funny looking monk-like wizards started streaming out of the castle. They started waving their wands at me and throwing spells my way. I felt my body being buffeted at the impact of their spells—all of which just bounced harmlessly off of me.
This could not be happening! How could I, Blake Drywater, a mere 5th grader, be destroying a wizard castle with my fingers? How could I be floating in the air 100 feet over everyone’s head, and take hit after hit of every wizard spell those monk guys down there could throw at me, and not feel a thing!
My finger slowly turned toward the monk guys. NO! I wasn’t a killer! I couldn’t do it! NO!
Yet I couldn’t seem to stop myself. My finger moved on its own. I was being totally controlled.
I closed my eyes. The little part of me that I still could control retreated into the darkest corner of my mind, just as it had that day I was on the moon about to be hit by an asteroid. And once more I found myself intensely repeating over and over and over, “It’s only a textbook! It’s only a textbook! It’s only a textbook!”
And then the words changed. I don’t know how or why. But suddenly I was saying over and over and over, “It’s only a bad dream! It’s only a bad dream! It’s only a bad dream! It’s not real at all!”
And then I fell into blackness so deep that it felt like I had been swallowed by the middle of the earth.
My Science Teacher is a Wizard Page 11