Knight Rising

by T. Mikita

  That was something, thought Asher. Everything he had read so far in the journals treated Otherworlders as something to be exterminated. Like bugs.

  “That’s true, Dorren,” said Professor Palmer. “You would have some experience with that living in the UK, but those classified as the dark fae still feed on humans.”

  “It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?” Joel muttered.

  Kenny shushed them as he tried to take notes.

  “Although some of them can control their urges, dark fae still take sustenance from humans in various ways: flesh, blood, even human emotions… “

  “Like Vampires?” Asher asked before he could censure his mouth. He didn’t even know if vampires existed and he didn’t want to look stupid.

  “What the mundanes call vampires are a particular classification of dark fae, yes,” Professor Palmer explained. “They feed on blood and quite often, human emotions as well. They are not however undead.”

  The class twittered with mirth at Asher’s expense.

  “But there are…” Asher started and then paused. He had begun his question thinking of the thing that rose from the dead to attack him and Jules, but he could hear Lacey sniggering in the back of the room and he hesitated to ask his question. Years of ridicule in mundane school had trained him to keep his mouth shut, but this was something he had to know. He blushed in embarrassment, but pushed on with his question. He saw the thing rise from the dead. He saw it. They fought it. If it wasn’t some sort of vampire, what was it? He gestured helplessly. “I know, there are some sorts of undead creatures. If they aren’t vampiric, what are they?”

  Professor Palmer frowned for a moment. “There are certain spells which could make something like that,” he said carefully. “But the creation of such…animations is a dark art. I hesitate to call any such manifestations, creatures, because they are not truly alive. They are constructs or puppets. Golems for example, are the simplest of such things. Made up from a part of the deceased, they require an infusion of human blood, and a sorcerer to continuously control them.”

  “How?” Asher asked.

  “Usually with necromantic magic,” Professor Palmer said nervously. “Which is complicated, dark and most strictly forbidden by the Guardian’s Charter, as you can expect, Mr. Pendragon.” Palmer’s voice was firm and uncharacteristically unyielding. “It is not something to be tampered with, even if you have aspirations to be the next Guardian of Whitegate.”

  Asher blushed. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean…” He floundered.

  Galina interrupted, “He was asking for a friend,” she said, and the class tittered with laughter.

  Asher didn’t feel like laughing. He felt sick. What Professor Palmer said made perfect sense, but it meant that the dead thing that had attacked him at the house was not mindlessly attracted to his Pendragon blood. It was controlled. That meant there was still someone out there that wanted him dead. Someone powerful.

  “But we are far off topic,” Professor Palmer said. He opened another of the Sentinel diaries.

  “Let’s look at what Marjorie Cook, has to tell us about protective amulets.” He once again began reciting information exactly as written although he was not looking at the pages.

  Asher was wide awake now, but he had no attention for the lesson. What Professor Palmer had already said was too disturbing.

  18

  Basilisk

  What Asher had learned about undead constructs in Professor Palmer’s class was still bothering him when classes were over for the day. He was walking back to the dorm with his friends when he saw his aunt across the frozen lawn. She was with Sir Merrick Niles again. Asher thought they looked awful chummy with their heads together discussing something in hushed tones.

  Asher didn’t care. He ran to catch up with them, leaving Joel and the others behind.

  “Aunt Evelyn,” He called, purposely using the familial title rather than headmistress. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

  “Certainly,” she said. “What’s on your mind, Asher?”

  “It’s about golems,” he said.

  “What class is this for?” she asked immediately, making him think that this was certainly not a topic that was currently on the curriculum. Professor Palmer had implied as much.

  “No. Not for class,” he said. “But they’re evil right?”

  “The method of making them is,” Evelyn said immediately.

  At the same time, Niles answered, “Not necessarily.”

  His aunt gave Sir Merrick a raised eyebrow.

  Niles raised a corresponding finger to her, presumably to stop her censure. “It is not a pleasant process certainly, but if I, for example, made a golem to do some repetitive task, such as washing the dinner dishes, and I used my own blood within the spell. I don’t think that’s at all evil. In fact, it is a much better choice than letting those dirty dishes pile up in unsanitary places for weeks on end.”

  Aunt Evelyn scowled at him and Niles chuckled in his raspy voice as if they were sharing a private joke.

  Why did that make Asher nervous? Perhaps it was because his aunt was also at ease. Niles struck Asher as a person to be wary of.

  The fact that Niles then launched into the various ways to make a golem, including hair, grave dirt and animation spells, was most disturbing. That was reason enough to distrust him. Especially since both Professor Palmer and his own aunt were firmly against the practice or at least hesitant.

  It didn’t take Asher long to realize that the spell Niles explained was clearly different than the spell which would have had to be enacted upon the corpse that had attacked him and Jules.

  “I don’t understand,” Asher began, but instead of allowing him to finish, his aunt waved a hand stopping him like waving away an annoying bug.

  “You cannot expect to understand all of the intricacies of magic in a week, Asher,” she said retreating immediately into her headmistress persona.

  Asher felt Sir Merrick’s eyes on the back of his neck and shifted to keep the man in his line of sight. He didn’t like having him at his back. The man made his skin itch. At least he hadn’t thrown any knives at him today.

  “You will learn about the more complex workings in due time,” his aunt said. “But such spells are questionable at best.” She offered no further explanation.

  “I know. I just…” Asher glanced at Niles again. He did not want to share his concerns in front of the man. He didn’t want to let him know anything that bothered him.

  “Would you like to have dinner with us today?” his aunt offered, inviting him to the teacher’s dining hall. Asher glanced back at Joel who had lingered behind his other friends and then back at Merrick Niles. His dark gaze pressed at Asher like a weight. No. No way he was eating with this man.

  “No,” Asher said. “I’ll eat with my friends, but I would like to talk about Jules and what happened… Perhaps after dinner?” His aunt seemed to never have time, and he wanted to nail her down to an appointment.

  “This evening is not convenient,” she said.

  “Tomorrow then?”

  His aunt sighed. “We have had this conversation, Asher.”

  He gritted his teeth at her stubbornness. They had not. His aunt had dictated, and he wasn’t ready to obey.

  He turned away from her and with clenched fists headed back to Joel and the student dining hall.

  “Take care, Young Pendragon,” Sir Merrick called after him. How was it that even the man’s good wishes seemed like a threat? Goosebumps crawled up his neck. In the next moment, a knife flew past the side of his head, so close it brushed the hair.

  Asher tackled Joel, taking them to the floor as they dodged the blade.

  “Good instincts,” Niles said calmly.

  Asher glared at him from his place on the floor.

  “My knife, please,” Sir Merrick said holding out his hand.

  “Get it yourself,” Asher snapped, rising from the floor with Joel, and heading towards the student dining room
, but not before he noticed the same thin row of blade marks along this door jamb as well.

  “That man is completely fucking crazy,” Joel said as they joined the others.

  “Certifiable,” Asher agreed.

  At dinner, Asher stirred his food around his plate and his morose mood stretched into the evening. He couldn’t get the monsters that attacked his parents off of his mind. He sat in one of the student lounges with his Creatures of the Otherworld text open on his lap, but he hadn’t looked at it in a while. He had leafed through the pages, but couldn’t find an entry for the creature that had risen from the dead in his parents’ bedroom. Did that mean the thing that tried to kill him was some sort of undead construct? Did a mad sorcerer make it? Or a necromancer? What did the sorcerer know about Asher now? Where was he? Or she? Asher felt helpless. He still knew next to nothing about magic or about this sorcerer, except that it had killed his father and Sharon. It was concerning that Sir Merrick Niles knew how to make constructs. Asher didn’t know why he was surprised. It seemed like something Niles would know.

  “Hey,” Galina said sitting beside him on the sofa in the common room. The others were across the room doing homework at the table. Homework that Asher still had piling up, barely started.

  “Hey,” he said back.

  Galina sat beside him for a moment while he stared unseeing at the book in his lap.

  “So how do you kill a rugaru?” She asked

  “Um. Head?” Asher said automatically parroting Phoenix.

  “Thus, proving you are not just sitting here reading,” Galina said gesturing to his open book. “The only certified way to kill a rugaru is fire,” she said.

  “Vampires too,” said Asher.

  “No. Vampires die with fire, beheading or a stake through the heart. It doesn’t have to be any particular metal, or wood. Unless they are a greater fae, anything sharp works.”

  “So, Mister Pointy,” said Asher, thinking of Jules.

  Galina didn’t laugh, but she did seem concerned. “Are you okay?” she asked. “I know, that’s a tough question. Is it about your parents?”

  Asher nodded.

  “I do understand, you know,” she said.

  Asher knew she did. “I just thought that the thing that killed my father was one of the mindless Otherworlders, but now, I’m not so sure.”

  “Your father was a Knight, right? Your mom too?”

  “No. Just my dad,” Asher corrected. “I mean, my mom was too, I think,” he said thinking of Vanessa. “But I never knew her. My dad remarried after my mother died. Sharon, my step-mom; she was mundane. I think whatever came for my dad, came for me too.”

  “That’s unfortunately, kind of normal,” Galina said. “I mean, if you are there, the creatures aren’t going to ignore you. They smell…or sense the Guardian blood.”

  “But we weren’t together,” Asher explained. He found himself spilling out the story of the creatures at the convention center and then how the thing that he thought was dead, rose up to fight him when he came home.

  “If your father truly was a battle-mage,” Galina said. “Only something very powerful could have killed him, not some undead thing. That sort of creature would not have even proven to be a challenge to a full Knight, at least not on its own.”

  That was true, Asher thought. Even though he and Jules didn’t have a clue, they had still managed to kill it, or rather Jules managed to kill it.

  The others had put aside their homework to listen and offer their advice. Asher didn’t want to share his nightmares, but he did have a nagging worry that would not go away. He told his new friends some of the details of the attack that night, and his concern about Jules.

  Dorren tried to calm his concerns. “Even without powers, you just have to be aware. It’s easy to let your guard down, and think there are no things that go bump in the night. She knows now and that counts for something.”

  Kenny nodded. “Forewarned is forearmed.”

  “And if she has silver bullets,” Joel offered. “Those will shred most Otherworlders.”

  Asher knew that. He had seen it firsthand.

  Asher told them about his aunt’s concern about Arthur’s sword. How she thought that his father was attacked for the blade and how she seemed disappointed he had not transferred ownership to Asher. Everyone was suitably awed by the revelation.

  “Your father was not only a Knight,” said Kenny. “He was a Pendragon. Armed with Excalibur, only a powerful sorcerer would have had any hope of taking him down.”

  “So what happened to the sword?” asked Phoenix.

  “I don’t know,” Asher said, “It disappeared, but if this sorcerer thinks I have it…”

  He let the sentence hang ominously, but they all agreed that someone who went to so much trouble to find the blade, was unlikely to just give up.

  “We’ve got your back,” Joel promised. “We are a team.”

  The others all nodded.

  “So at the house, the creature you saw was clearly an undead construct of some sort,” said Galina. “Let’s try to figure out what the things at the convention center were.”

  Homework forgotten; they dove in with renewed vigor to solve the mystery.

  “I will see if I can find out more. But honestly Asher, it sounds like the Order of Basilisk.” Kenny said.

  “Who are they?” Asher asked.

  “A specialized type of were-animal,” said Galina. “You’ve heard of basilisks, haven’t you? Or naga?”

  Asher nodded. “So they are like were-snakes?” He shrugged.

  “Sort of,” Galina said. “Mostly reptilian, with claws and they have a very nasty venom.”

  “They’re thugs,” said Joel.

  “A praetorian guard corps that used to work for Mordred.” Kenny added.

  “But why would they come after me?” Asher wondered.

  “Someone must have hired them.” Dorren said with reluctance. “They are assassins and mercenaries. Some of the dark fae still use their services.”

  Galina blew out her breath and shook her head. She threw Asher a sympathetic glance. “Dorren’s right,” she said. “My grandmother wrote about them. I think they have venom sacs under their claws, which is only one of the things that makes them dangerous.”

  “I’d like to see what she wrote,” Asher said a hand going to the now healed scar on his abdomen.

  Galina nodded, and looked at the pile of books on the table. “I have her grimoire in my room,” she said. “It’s probably at the bottom of my trunk.”

  “It’s okay,” Asher said. “You can get it tomorrow. I’m exhausted. I’m just going to go to bed.”

  “Make sure you set an alarm,” said Joel.

  The last few days Asher had been late waking up, barely pulling himself out of bed in time for class. He still wasn’t sleeping well. He hoped he didn’t have any more nightmares tonight. He needed the rest, but he doubted he would get it.

  Putting the pieces together, Asher realized that it couldn’t be a coincidence that someone tried to kill him twice in one day. This was all part of something far larger than he had first thought. Asher and his father were attacked almost simultaneously. When the basilisks at the convention center, failed to kill Asher. The sorcerer must have raised a creature from the dead to finish him off when he came home. The prospect was chilling.

  19

  Talent

  Professor Stellanovich was smiling as Asher entered her classroom. He was less winded running from one side of the campus to the other now, than he was at the beginning of the term.

  “Today, we will discuss what makes up the magic of the Guardians themselves,” she began. “I know this is basic for some of you, but we will progress quickly. Please feel free to ask questions.”

  That was one of the things Asher liked about Professor Stellanovich. She didn’t mind stupid questions, and the class usually turned into a discussion rather than a boring lecture. Asher thought she was one of the nicer teachers, and she seeme
d to like him. Professor Stellanovich reminded him of his father in some ways. Maybe because they were both history teachers.

  The other students settled into their seats, and Asher dug through his satchel for his text book. He always did well in mundane subjects like English or math, but after the day he had in the fighting field, as well as what he learned in Professor Palmer’s class about undead constructs, he was a bit hesitant about everything.

  He rubbed his sore shoulder as he considered. What subbed for Phys. Ed. at this school was another thing altogether. His arm ached from holding a sword. A blunt practice blade, but still a fucking broad sword! The weight along with the blows he had failed to block made his whole-body sore. At least nothing in this class was trying to hurt him, or kill him. At least, not at the moment. It seemed rather certain that some necromantic sorcerer killed his father to gain Excalibur. But since he didn’t get it, that meant the sorcerer was now gunning for Asher. But for the moment, in this particular class, Asher felt pretty safe.

  Aside from the obvious strangeness of discussing magic like it was some scientific principle, he could not really complain about the magical theory classes. They were pretty straightforward rote. Application might be more problematic, but right now, it was just learning from the teacher and the book. That at least was something he understood. Although the subject matter was different, the class itself was similar to what he had been doing all of his life. He tried to relax. It was just a class. He shook his head in amazement and opened his Basics of Magical Theory textbook.

  “All Guardians have at least a touch of the Gift,” Professor Stellanovich said. “Most of you have used some measure of magic before you were even brought here. If you had not, you would most likely be dead.” She paused a moment.

  Asher and a few others in the class gave a nervous chuckle before he realized that she was probably right. He did end up in the hospital after his tangle with the things at the convention center and he had to have some of his stitches redone later that night. He shoved the thought away. He would not dwell on it.