The Dragel’s Song
Neilson Hewitt, Episode Two
by
Chera Carmichael
The Dragel’s Song
Neilson Hewitt, Episode Two
Copyright © 2014 Chera Carmichael
#1 Neilson Hewitt : Episode One
#2 Neilson Hewitt : Episode Two
#3 Neilson Hewitt : Episode Three
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to real life individuals, places or situations are purely coincidental. All images used to create the cover were taken from the public domain under the creative commons license.
Acknowledgements: Special thanks to my fans, Betas, Proofreaders and everyone who made my dragel story into the success that it is. You made a writer’s dream come true and this is my thanks to you. Enjoy the read!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The odd feeling started on the next day.
Neil let Elyenka talk him into calling it an early night again—and allowed her to take his Healer’s appointment card and get it rescheduled. Of course, Elyenka’s idea of having it rescheduled meant that Kendall would simply walk over and do it for her, while she made sure that Neil was actually resting.
He couldn’t think of a single way to keep her from invading his dorm room, but for once, luck was on his side and she was called away by a teacher’s page to tend to one of her science experiments that had apparently developed at a rather alarming rate than expected.
“You will rest, won’t you?” Elyenka asked for the third time, hovering in the doorway, halfway in the hall, but not quite in his room yet. Her soft green eyes had taken on a lighter, paler shade again, a hint of her Silvertongue nature coming to the forefront.
“You worry too much,” Neil said, simply. “I’ll be fine, aren’t I always?”
“Your definition of fine is quite different from mine,” Elyenka grumbled. She scowled at her comm. bracelet. “Ugh. I’ve got to take care of this; I’ll tell Kendall to leave the card in your drop box, alright?”
“Alright. Have fun.”
Elyenka snorted. “Fun? I told those idiotic interns not to add Solution 23h-b to the feeding until precisely three hours after noon. What do you think they did?”
Neil bit back a smile, seeing the familiar frustrated expression replacing her earlier curiosity. Her curiosity was a thing to be feared and while he didn’t mind it most of the time, today he did.
Keeping a secret of this magnitude was far more difficult than he’d ever considered. He knew she would work it out eventually or at least make a very close guess; she was not a genius for nothing. But by that point, he hoped to at least have made up his mind on what he could or could not do with the very troublesome reality of his dragel inheritance.
It had been something of a relief to spend the entire day how he’d liked, even if most of it had passed in a daze of some sort. He locked the door behind him, keying in the special code that meant no one could interrupt—save for one of the school security heads.
Stripping off his clothes, he flopped face-first onto the bed and burrowed awkwardly into the blankets and sheets. His back had begun to itch and burn, hinting that something was wrong and required his attention.
The moment he’d fallen into bed, every ounce of spare energy had melted away and he could have sworn he felt the strength ebb from his arms. A few failed attempts to sit up produced a frustrated growl that was both disturbing and embarrassing.
With that new understanding in mind, Neil turned his face to the side and waited for sleep to come. He didn’t have to wait very long at all.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Kendall had stopped by at some point before curfew and deposited the renewed appointment card in the drop box. Neil fished it out first thing, when he woke the next morning. Thankfully, he didn’t have to step outside to do that, because his wings had come out during the night and he had yet to figure out how to coax them back in.
Heavy, stiff and painful, he moved slowly, trying not to stretch or pull them in anyway. There was a little bit of blood this time, but no bits of skin and that was something of a relief.
After a brief contemplation, Neil decided to try and squeeze his way into the refresher as he’d done the day before. Maybe the warm water would help. It took some maneuvering, because they didn’t want to fold back as they had the day before.
Soon enough, he stood in the shower stall, facing the wall with his wings sticking out the back. Grumbling to himself, Neil fiddled with the digital controls until his preferred temperature-heated water came sprinkling through the overhead system.
His guess was correct.
The warm water helped tremendously. Within a matter of minutes, the stiffness had vanished and only the sore feeling remained. He attempted to wash the right wing, only for the stabbing spikes of pain to discourage that idea.
Curving the left wing around him in front, Neil gingerly held it steady underneath the warm water spray. It trembled in his grasp and he bit his lip to weather the sensations. The taste blood flooded his mouth a moment later and he released his wing, shocked to find that he’d bitten clear through his lip.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Neil muttered, stumbling out from the shower and over to the sink, to look in the anti-fog mirror. He couldn’t make out a single thing from the fogged surface and scowled, turning on the taps to throw a handful of water at the mirror.
That cleared it up briefly, even though it made a mess that he’d have to clean up later. The image that stared back at him showed his shocked expression, no trace of any cut or split in his lip—and delicately pointed fangs set in his mouth.
Neil swore
~*~*~*~*~*~
Unfortunately, Neil didn’t have much time to spend puzzling, brooding or fuming over his latest changes. He scrambled to get dressed—after hastily cleaning up the refresher—the moment his wings had folded in on their own.
Like the day before, he chose his loosest, free-fitting student uniform and shoveled his textbooks and tablet into the standard-issue bookbag. Slinging it over one shoulder, he checked the time projected onto the wall beside the door.
There was enough time to grab breakfast from the cafeteria, if he was quick. His stomach agreed with that, so Neil hurried to leave. The door locked automatically behind him as he stepped out into the empty hallway.
Relief lurked in the back of his mind as he headed for the cafeteria, noting that most students were either in class or latecomers such as himself, scrambling to get things together for the morning classes.
The cafeteria was mostly empty and Neil was grateful for that. It meant there were fewer faces for him to worry about and that he could enjoy his privacy for a bit longer before the day truly began.
Taking a seat in the far corner of the seating area, Neil made sure he could see the entry and exit points—standard procedure, according to Elyenka—and then settled down to enjoy his breakfast of fresh fruit and oatmeal.
Fruit was more appealing than any other breakfast foods, so he indulged the craving and made quick work of the large fruit salad he’d selected. Only when the ache in his stomach had eased halfway through the meal, he finally took a closer look at the late students seated around him.
There were some general students and a few Elite students as well, but they were all engrossed in their own schedules and projects. Some of the Elite students took courses with independent study, allowing them to roam as they pleased, as long as their work was turned in on time.
Thinking of Elite students made him remember Derek Marsten, which prompted a careful check of the present students once more to make sure that none of them were faces that he knew. While Marsten typically didn’t stalk him for longer than a week or so ev
ery other month, Neil had quickly learned when and how to look after himself.
He couldn’t always hide—not that he really wanted to, but losing his scholarship was not an option, thank you very much—so that meant using his head to plan when and where he went.
None of the faces were familiar, so he relaxed enough to finish off the rest of the fruit salad. Thinking about Marsten reminded him of Benjamin Carson and that started a whole new slew of thoughts that Neil hadn’t quite wanted to sort through.
Carson was well known for his excellent grades, wealthy roots and neutral social position, as far as the Federation was concerned. His parents had been famous diplomats and they’d built an impressive empire for their only child to inherit.
While Marsten’s own roots were fairly respectable in high society, the Marsten family had only recently come into their wealth, while the Carsons had been established for decades before.
Neil shook his head to clear it and stared down at his meal tray to discover that the only remaining food item was oatmeal. His stomach protested rather pitifully and with a grimace, he pushed it to the side. He knew better than to fill it with something that it didn’t want.
Picking up his tray, he headed for the recycling counter. Scraping the oatmeal into the compost bin, he placed the empty dish back on the tray and pushed it through the slot that would take it down to the sterilization section.
He was still on time for the most part and there was a lovely twenty minute block before the actual appointment. Smiling to himself, Neil slipped out of the cafeteria and trotted down the hall.
~*~*~*~*~*~
He took his time heading for the upper wings of Noir Academy where the Medbay head office was located. There were stations on each floor, but most of the official testing and necessary operations took place on the top floor.
Taking the walkways to avoid using the automatic platform elevators, Neil took his time making his way to the upper floors. He was used to walking in a circuitous route to get to his final destination, so it simply gave him more time to turn things over in his head.
As he passed through the hallways where some of the upper tier classes were in session, an odd, pulling sensation began to grow stronger, compelling him to draw nearer.
Neil frowned, but continued on. The feeling was the strongest outside of one classroom that required an attendance card for admittance. Looking over at the name plate, Neil was surprised to find himself standing in front of the Magical Arts classroom.
Normally, they had their lessons a few levels down, but someone had blown up the classroom with an unsupervised spell several weeks ago and as punishment, was forced to rebuild it by hand. Due to their slow progress, Magical Arts had been moved to an upper tier classroom.
While sometimes a controversial class, Neil had always enjoyed Magical Arts. It allowed him to learn about the history of different magics and their various conceptions throughout time. Of course, the class was half theory and half practical, so he learned a few useful spells without having to pay for a higher level course with a training lab.
A vague memory niggled in the back of his mind and Neil tried to remember what it was. He felt his tiny flicker of magic stretch inside of him, as if trying to reach out to whatever it was that had drawn him to the classroom door.
His shoulders hunched forward and a slight prickling sensation washed over him. Neil grimaced as Marsten’s remarks about being a chosen volunteer resurfaced in his mind, sending a few threads of unease through him.
He stood awkwardly outside of the classroom for a moment longer, unable to convince himself to walk away. He’d just made up his mind that if he didn’t leave soon, he’d be late for the Healers’ appointment, when a large hand clamped down on his shoulder.
A slight hiss left his mouth, right before he jerked forward—or tried to—whirling around to see who had dared sneak up on him. His defensive reaction was tempered only by the hand that did not release him.
Neil found himself staring into cold, blue-grey eyes with one bushy eyebrow arched in silent question. He stared at the man for a long moment, and then followed the reach of the stranger’s hand to his shoulder. He jerked backwards again, scowling. The grip was surprisingly strong and the man’s magical aura was rather potent. Simply standing next to him was nearly overwhelming.
“If you are late, then you are late,” the man said, matter-of-factly. “You can either wait until I enter or you can skip today’s class and take a demerit as penalty for your tardiness. The day’s assignment will be posted live on the network, five minutes after midnight and it due at the same time, the following morning, as your fellow classmates.”
“I’m not here for class,” Neil said, finding his voice. “And would you please let go of me?” The thick magical aura had been comforting at first, most likely on account of his own depleted magic, but something about the man’s narrowed gaze didn’t quite sit well with him and Neil decided to leave as soon as he possibly could.
“If I do, you look as if you’d run.” The man wore a teacher’s sash draped over the front of his uniformed jacket, denoting him as an instructor at Noir Academy. He dropped his hand anyway and turned towards the door, his fingers dancing over the keypad to input the correct alphanumerical sequence to identify his person.
Neil glared at him, his gaze straying to the left side of the uniform where the teacher’s name was usually emblazoned. There was no name there and before he could make his escape, the classroom door slid open.
The classroom was filled with chattering students; all who immediately quieted when the door slid open. Neil caught sight of a few familiar faces, right before he was propelled into the classroom. He nearly tripped over his own feet, panic coursing through them when the shove was effective enough to move him into the classroom and out of the hall.
The door slid shut behind them.
Neil whirled around, having a sinking feeling that the door was locked and he was now stuck inside. He was about to protest, only to find the man making his way up to the platform at the head of the room. He stretched a hand towards the door and heard a whispered voice call out to him, “Neil!”
He turned to see a worried Kendall sitting cross-legged on one of the benches in the back, waving him over. After a moment’s hesitation, Neil made his way over. He was pulled down to sit on the newly created space on the bench, after Kendall had nudged a few of his seatmates over.
“I thought you had a Healers’ appointment. What are you doing here?”
“I thought so too,” Neil muttered, slipping his bookbag off of one shoulder to rest on the ground. “What’s with that door?”
“It’s got a gateway seal on it, once you’re in, you don’t get out,” Kendall said, grimly. “It’s to make an example of all the students who are late.”
Neil frowned. “Sometimes you can’t help being late.” He looked around the room, checking to see if there were any other familiar faces. “Is that the-?”
“Teacher Terius? Yeah. That’s him. Don’t forget it and don’t call him, ‘sir’ he’ll flip.”
Neil’s frown deepened. He felt the appointment card in his pocket beginning to warm, a warning that his turn was coming up quite soon. He glanced back at the platform where Terius was now setting up a few props. “What’s he doing?”
“It’s supposed to be a test day,” Kendall began.
“Test?” Neil hissed. “I’m not prepared for a test, Kendall! You couldn’t have mentioned this yesterday?”
Kendall winced. “It kind of slipped my mind—it’s not a real test, Neil! Chill.” He grabbed Neil’s arm to keep him from jerking up out of his seat. “It’s not a real test! He’s just checking what levels our magic has.”
Neil didn’t bother to correct him on the point of his lack of magic. He’d struggled with whether he ought to tell them or not, but in the end, Elyenka’s sharp eyes had caught him out. He’d told them then, realizing that they could help in the meantime, until he kne
w what was wrong.
Kendall’s jaw dropped a moment later. “Shit. Sorry, Neil. You should’ve-” he stopped when Neil gave him a look. “Right. Uh. You can’t-” he looked back to the locked door. There was no way that anyone could leave now.
Neil gave him a look and settled himself more comfortably on the bench. Personally, he preferred traditional classrooms with desks and chairs, but Noir Academy prided itself on the variety of instructors and teaching methods.
“I don’t think that I’m going to like this class very much,” Kendall muttered.
“That really is a pity, Norton—was it?”
Kendall jumped, turning to see the teacher standing directly behind him, a bland smile on his face. “Er,”
“Wasn’t it?”
“Yes sir—I mean, yes teacher.”
“Sit up straight. Slouching is bad posture,” Terius said, lightly. His attention shifted to Neil. “You. The hallway loiterer. I don’t recognize you at all, which means you were one of those absent yesterday. Have you an excuse?”
Neil looked at him, unable to quell the urge of rebellion sprouting inside of him. He shook his head, not trusting his mouth to speak for him. Terius’ magic stretched out to him again and a dizzy feeling washed over Neil.
“Verbal answer please,” Terius said.
“No excuse,” Neil muttered. His eyelids grew heavy and his hands shook.
“Neil?” Kendall grabbed his shoulder and gave him a slight shake. “Hey, Neil—focus.”
The gentle pressure on his shoulder was like flipping a switch. Neil jerked back to the present so quickly that he choked on the sudden breath of air. He coughed and gasped for a moment. One hand reached out to hold onto the bench to steady himself and the other grabbed Kendall’s arm.
Terius frowned. “What is your name?”
“His name is Neilson Hewitt,” Kendall snapped. “And he’s not feeling well, can’t you-”
“Hewitt?” Terius repeated. There was a vaguely irritated look on his face as he studied Neil for a moment, and then seemed to decide that he was alright.
Kendall rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He looked at his arm where Neil’s hand had fisted in the give of the fabric, hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. “Neil—talk to me, buddy.”
The Dragel's Song II Page 1
