The Revenge of Magic

by James Riley

  The monster’s hand bashed into the wall once more, and this time Fort lost his grip completely. He frantically grabbed for whatever he could as he fell into nothingness, barely managing to grab onto the scales on the back of the creature’s hand to avoid tumbling into the depths below.

  The monster lifted its hand for another hit, and Fort tumbled off the side of the hand, crashing into the creature’s thumb. He slammed into it hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, and spots began exploding in her vision. Even woozy, though, he managed to wrap his weak arms and legs around the thumb and hold on tight.

  Not that he’d be able to hold on much longer. One more hit, maybe two, and that would be it. If the creature didn’t eat him first.

  Why couldn’t Cause Heavy Wounds have been one of the spells he took from Jia? One instance of the magic just wasn’t enough! And it wasn’t like he could work out the words on his own. . . .

  . . . Could he?

  A memory of studying with Rachel floated through his mind, and something about how the words to a spell and its opposite were really close, only one word apart. Could he use that with the Heal Heavy Wounds spell he did have?

  The creature slammed its hand into the wall again, and the hit sent a shock wave through Fort’s body. That was it, he wouldn’t last another one.

  Fortunately, the monster seemed done with smashing its hand against the wall.

  Instead, it brought its thumb straight up to its mouth, ready to pick Fort off with its teeth.

  - FORTY-THREE -

  FORT’S MIND RACED FRANTICALLY AS he neared the monster’s gaping mouth. Remove Fear had run its course now, and he could barely think, now that he was about to be eaten. He took a deep breath as he tried to think of other spells he knew. “Utri cor” were the words to Cause Disease, and “nenutri cor” was Cure Disease. Did that word “nen” negate the spell somehow?

  “Nen mon d’rexe cor,” he shouted, adding the word to the Heal Heavy Wounds spell. But no magic filled his hands, and now he’d reached the monster’s mouth.

  “Monnen d’rexe cor! Mon d’nen rexe cor!” he shouted in a panic, trying anything.

  But nothing happened, and the creature brought its giant razor-sharp teeth down toward him. He screamed and dove away, landing back in the palm as the teeth scraped against the scales on its thumb, then moved down toward him.

  Covering his head with his hands, Fort curled up on the palm, squeezing his eyes shut.

  He had to try, just once more.

  “Mon d’rexenen cor,” he whispered.

  And there it was. The same white-hot pain filled his arms, and he immediately threw both arms above him, almost in defense. His hands struck the monster’s teeth, and the magic passed right into the creature.

  This time, its shriek lasted for almost a minute.

  Wrapping one arm around a finger, Fort watched triumphantly as the creature wailed in agony, its head slamming back and forth against the cavern walls. Fort wanted to laugh, to shout, to celebrate at the top of his lungs as it threw its hand far away from its face, like it didn’t want him anywhere near it.

  And for good reason. But that wasn’t going to save the monster. Not anymore. Because Fort had figured out the language of the magic instead of reading it in the book. And somehow, he could still remember the words he’d used. There they were, still in his memory, fresh and ready for another casting.

  Above him, the creature writhed in pain, roaring in anger and now fear. “You deserve this!” Fort shouted up at it from its hand. “You’re going to suffer for what you did to my father!”

  With that, he brought his own hands down onto the scales and cast the spell again, then again, and again.

  Each time, the pain radiated over Fort, making him scream, but the effect on the creature was exponentially greater. With each new spell, the magical energy passed farther up the monster’s arm and into its chest. From there, it spread out over the entire massive body, withering away its muscles and sending scales dropping from its skin like rain.

  “Are you enjoying this?” he shouted as the monster shuddered, its body wasting away to the point that it couldn’t even lift its hand anymore. “This is for my father! I hope you feel every ounce of pain he did!”

  The monster quaked, and the motion almost buckled Fort right off, but he managed to latch onto another of the withered fingers, and he attacked again.

  “Come on!” he shouted as the magic filled the beast. “Is that all you can take? I’ve got enough for hours of this!”

  The monster roared again, but instead of attacking him further, it began to descend again, back into the ground, using its still-healthy opposite hand.

  “That’s it?” he shouted as the creature lowered them both down toward the glowing purplish portal. “You’re running away? You coward! Face me!”

  WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY MINION? came the Old One’s voice in Fort’s head, and he winced at the force of it. IT HAS BROKEN MY CONTROL. YOU ONCE AGAIN CAUSE US PAIN!

  As the voice subsided, Fort readied another spell but paused for a moment. The Old One controlled the monster? So had the magic Fort cast been somehow channeled back up into the Old One too?

  Somehow, that made his revenge even sweeter.

  The monster was now actually digging itself back down toward the portal, the hand Fort held on to hanging uselessly at its side. It whimpered as it increased its speed, sounding almost like a wounded animal, and the sound nearly tugged at Fort’s heart.

  But it wasn’t an animal. This was a bloodthirsty, raging monster that had killed his father! Sneering, he cast another Cause Heavy Wounds spell into it, and the creature squealed, hastening its descent once again. They were getting close to the portal now, and its light reflected up on the cavern walls.

  But with each new terrified squeal, Fort’s rage seemed to lessen. Even trying to remind himself of his father didn’t seem to help—it was hard to even think over the creature’s loud whines. As the light of the portal intensified, the rage disappeared entirely, leaving Fort feeling both empty and nauseous.

  He’d been dreaming about getting revenge for so long, and now that he had the power, it somehow felt . . . wrong.

  But no! He couldn’t stop now. This was for his father. This was justice!

  Is it? his father’s voice said in his head as Fort watched the portal get closer. Why are you doing this, Fort? This isn’t the boy I know, the one who’s going to grow up to be the first astronaut president. You’re just torturing this creature. What does that accomplish?

  The monster’s lower body passed through the portal, just seconds ahead of its hand holding Fort. If he didn’t escape now, he’d be taken through to the creature’s dimension.

  But if he let go, the creature would escape. He might never have another chance to face it.

  “It deserves this,” Fort whispered, staring at the approaching purple light. “It . . . it hurt you! It took you from me!” He whispered the words of the Cause Heavy Wounds spell, cringing against the white heat, then moved his hand over to the now-charred flesh of the creature’s finger he was wrapped around.

  But this won’t bring me back, said the voice in his head. That thing wasn’t even in control. The Old One was making it do this!

  Fort winced, knowing the imagined voice of his father was right. The creature wasn’t here by choice. All its actions had been under the control of the monster in Damian’s body.

  Just like when it had stolen his father.

  “I can’t just let this go!” he shouted to no one. “This is all I have left!”

  And soon you won’t even have that, because you’ll be taken to the monster’s dimension, the voice said to him. Just like I was.

  Fort growled in frustration, feeling both shame at the pleasure he’d taken in the creature’s pain a moment before as well as a primal need not to let this go, not to let his father down again.

  You could never let me down, Forsythe, he heard his father’s voice say in his head.


  Something wet fell on his cheeks, and Fort shuddered, releasing the spell he’d been holding in. The white pain disappeared into nothingness, and he quickly cast another spell.

  This time, his hands glowed a cold blue, and he healed the creature, allowing the muscles, scales, and bone beneath his arms and legs to begin to grow back, replacing what he’d taken so horribly moments before.

  That’s my boy, his father’s voice came to him.

  Again and again, Fort cast his Healing magic into the creature, and as its muscles and sinew re-formed in its arm, it slowed its descent, right as Fort approached the portal. On the other side, he could just make out more of the monsters, all equally as horrific as the one he’d been torturing, but somehow, at this moment, he could only feel sorry for them.

  They weren’t to blame here. This was the Old One’s fault. The Old One and Damian, who’d unleashed it on the world.

  “I’m sorry for what I did,” Fort whispered to the creature, who seemed to be shaking less now. “I, um, don’t suppose you’d let me jump off before you go home?”

  The creature looked down at Fort with its red eyes, and he wondered if it actually understood a single word he said.

  “Maybe not,” he whispered. “Either way, I really am sor—”

  The air around him started to shimmer, and he froze, not sure what was happening. Had the monster pulled him through the portal?

  But no. There were no giant creatures surrounding him now. Instead, he floated above what looked like the ruins of a battlefield.

  The ruins that had once been the Oppenheimer School.

  - FORTY-FOUR -

  BELOW HIM, THE OPPENHEIMER SCHOOL lay in ruins. The boys’ and girls’ dorms were rubble, and the Training Hall had half collapsed. Here and there, a few soldiers lay unconscious on the ground, but the vast majority of guards had lined up in formation directly beneath Fort, looking straight ahead without moving.

  Beside him in the air, the Old One floated, Sierra at its side.

  YOU CAUSED US PAIN AND DESTROYED OUR CONTROL OF OUR MINION, the creature’s voice pounded in Fort’s head. Some sort of invisible force slowly turned Fort around to face it, then pulled him closer. Fort flinched away, but the thing didn’t seem to notice.

  WE HAD THOUGHT CORPOREAL MAGIC TO BE GONE, the creature continued, each word like a spike in Fort’s brain. NOW IT SHALL BE.

  The creature’s tentacles reached out to surround Fort’s head, but this time, they pushed into his ears, nose, and mouth. He tried to scream but couldn’t get any air. He felt like he was drowning as one by one, all the spells in his head disappeared, leaving just darkness behind, the Old One’s shadows, the same terror he’d felt in Sierra’s room earlier from the inescapable fact that humanity had lived to serve these ancient creatures, and there was nothing he could do, nothing—

  And then the connection broke, and Fort almost fainted from relief as the tentacles pulled away, letting him breathe again. He looked up at the Old One, who floated silently at his side.

  “You . . . haven’t won,” Fort said, barely able to speak. “I’m not . . . the only . . . healer.”

  The magic holding Fort slowly rotated him to look down below, and he almost cried out in despair.

  There, lined up behind the soldiers, were his classmates from Dr. Ambrose’s Healing class, as well as the rest of the students from the Oppenheimer School. All of them were under the Old One’s control, just like the soldiers.

  Now that he was being forced to stare, Fort also found the teachers at their students’ sides. Dr. Opps was there, and Colonel Charles. Even Dr. Ambrose stood next to Bryce, who looked much less evil now that his mind was being controlled.

  Fort looked down at everyone he’d met in the last three days, wanting to scream, to fight back, anything. It was his fault the Old One had escaped, after all. Everything he’d done had led right to this moment. He’d woken up Sierra, and that in turn had brought Damian back.

  All because he couldn’t let his desire for revenge go.

  “Please, don’t do this,” he whispered, knowing the Old One wouldn’t listen.

  HUMANS NEVER UNDERSTOOD WHAT EACH TYPE OF MAGIC TRULY MEANT, the Old One said, waving its tentacles out over the assembled crowd below. WHAT YOU CALL DESTRUCTION IS BUT A FRACTION OF THE POWER OF THE TRUE ELEMENTAL MAGIC. YOU USE MAGIC OF THE BODY TO HEAL WOUNDS, WHEN YOU COULD USE IT TO RESHAPE YOURSELVES AS WE DID.

  Reshape themselves? Fort gasped, remembering the glove he’d seen in the storage warehouse beneath the Training Hall. It’d been made from the same type of armor the Old One wore now, but shaped as if for a human.

  Maybe he’d been right before, that the Old Ones had once been human? Or at least something closer in appearance.

  THREE OF US REMAIN OF THE SEVEN THAT ONCE RULED, the Old One continued, and his tentacles formed multiple patterns in the air, a complex weaving dance that Fort could barely follow. As it maneuvered its tentacles, a tear formed in the sky before them, like a rip in the fabric of space and time. AND NOW, THE THREE OF US SHALL RULE YET AGAIN.

  The tear widened, then solidified, forming a shimmering green portal. And on the other side . . .

  Fort dry heaved, barely able to comprehend what he was seeing but unable to look away.

  Colors screamed in madness, and time wept with sorrow. Mountains of incomprehensible anger raged against a cracked and broken sky, while sinister rain fell in multiple directions at once. And standing before it all were two human-sized creatures, both wearing the same crystal armor as the Old One within Damian.

  But that was where the similarities stopped.

  One of the Old Ones was covered in shrieking human faces, as if its body was filled with terrified souls. The second looked to be formed from pure flame, though it burned black at the edges and white at the center.

  OUR TIME HAS COME TO RETURN TO OUR WORLD, MY BROTHER AND SISTER, the Old One said to the figures on the other side of the portal. COME. RETURN HERE TO OUR HOME, AND LET US MAKE IT OUR OWN ONCE MORE.

  Fort frantically tried to free himself, struggling against the magical force holding him in the air, but it was like pushing against a mountain. He yelled in frustration, unable to imagine what was next to come.

  If one Old One could so easily take control of an entire army base, three of them could surely take over the world.

  But what could Fort do? He had no magic, not even Healing spells. Sierra was just as broken, controlled as she was by the Old One.

  But maybe she was still conscious, somewhere within her mind? Could she hear him, through whatever connection they shared?

  Sierra? Are you . . . still in there?

  The Old Ones approached the portal, and Fort could almost feel the magic radiating off them. The one made of flame gestured, and a geyser of lava shot into the air just outside the school’s walls, setting the nearby forest ablaze.

  The one with the shrieking faces gestured toward the soldiers, and they all turned toward the creature, gazing up at it lovingly.

  THE SEVEN FORMS OF MAGIC TOGETHER HOLD THE POWER OF ALL REALITY, the Old One said to Fort. YOU WILL WITNESS THAT POWER IN MOMENTS. AND THEN, FOR THE PAIN YOU HAVE CAUSED US, WE SHALL UNCREATE YOU FROM EXISTENCE.

  Fort started hyperventilating again, not even sure what “uncreate” could mean. This time he had no Remove Fear spell to stop himself, but that worry paled before whatever was about to come.

  Just like when his father had died, feelings of helplessness washed over him, but the memory of his dad woke something in him, and he pushed back against the despair with what remained of his will.

  He wouldn’t let this happen, not when it was all his fault. He couldn’t!

  A familiar voice in his mind seemed to groan. You know, whenever you . . . you push back like that, it gives me . . . such a massive headache.

  Sierra? Fort thought, suddenly feeling the slightest bit of hope. You’re still there?

  Barely, she said. It’s all I can do to . . . just talk to you. I don’t . .
. I don’t have the power to . . . fight those things.

  And just like that, the hope slipped away as quickly as it came. Fort watched as the students below now joined the soldiers in turning toward the screaming-faces Old One, like it had taken over not their minds, but their spirits.

  But then Fort noticed something odd. Not all the students turned at the same time, like the soldiers had. Instead, four of them seemed almost surprised by the movement and had to hurry to catch up.

  And they were four students that he recognized. Cyrus, Rachel, Jia, and Sebastian.

  Fort’s eyes widened. Sierra? I need you to tell Cyrus something. He has to know!

  I can try, she said. He’s close by, so I should . . . be able to reach him. But what good will that—

  Trust me, Fort thought back at her. Tell him that I said healing magic can hurt the thing inside Damian. Maybe even send it away. And that he’s going to need something to protect him and a few others against mind magic. Whoever he thinks he needs to save us.

  What? What are you . . . it’s too late. He’s already here . . . with the rest of them.

  Just, please, tell him! Fort thought back at her.

  Sierra didn’t respond, and Fort hoped she’d heard and hadn’t just been overcome by the Old One.

  The two Old Ones had reached the portal, and the fiery one was starting to step through.

  And then from somewhere down below, someone . . . clapped.

  “HEY!” a voice yelled. “Hold on one minute. We got you something. A welcome-home present!”

  Fort looked down, a smile growing over his face as Rachel turned back around to face the Old One within Damian.

  HOW DO YOU RESIST OUR CONTROL? The Old One’s voice hit Rachel hard enough to almost knock her over, but she quickly stood back up and grinned.

  “You have no idea how powerful I am,” she said to him. “But let me educate you a bit.”