She halted. “Do that, and you die with us. Isn’t suicide a grave sin?”
“I doubt this counts. I’m taking out criminals who are threatening me and preventing them from harming others later.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose. One day, he would come up with a spell to make them stay in place.
“Bane!” Lisa shouted, just now coming back to consciousness.
Hector and Sue staggered, trying to keep their weapons on Grant. Their dog was unaffected.
Grant cast, “Summon Monster I, Celestial Dog.” A shining hound appeared and attacked Cafall.
“Patron’s Favor!” Lisa said, asking her matrons to bless the battle. She ran towards Sue.
“Lightning Bolt!” Grant cast towards Hector, knocking him backwards. The mage glanced at the other combatants.
Sue and Lisa were locked in combat. Lisa had managed to cast blindness on Sue but was still outclassed in hand-to-hand combat.
Grant’s heart hammered in his chest. He had to finish this quickly, or he would tire out. Angered at the betrayal, he shouted, “Blindness!” He pointed at Hector and watched him crumble, hands over his sightless eyes. Grant punched Hector in the jaw to knock him out. All that remained was Sue.
He didn’t have to worry, though. Lisa used inflict critical wounds to defeat her opponent.
The former couple looked down on their opponents. Hector, Sue, and Cafall lay unconscious on the stone floor. The sound of Grant’s labored breathing filled the cavern.
“Nice bit of necromancy, there!” Lisa said.
Grant winced. Blindness was an evil spell, and the damage it did was permanent. He was going to spend some time in prayer after this. He had resorted more than once to magic Chrissy would cast. He was neutral, so it was allowed, but he still didn’t like it.
Lisa grabbed Grant’s hand and squeezed. “We did it! The gold is ours!”
The red robe shook off her hand. “Remember, I have a girlfriend.”
The cleric’s smile did not reach her eyes. “She’s not here, but I am.”
Now he stepped away from her. “You know I don’t two-time.” As she tried to step close to him, he changed the subject. “Are you going to tell me that you’re a Mystic Theurge now?”
“What? How did you figure that out?” Her voice was high and shrill.
“You cast Fingers of Flame last night, then tried to distract me so I wouldn’t realize the mistake. Fingers is an arcane spell, not divine. If you had the Fire Domain, it would be available to you, but you told me you have Chaos Domain and Animal. Since you aren’t cloistered, you can’t have three domains.”
Lisa took three steps back from him. “Very good. I’ll give you one more chance to become a Mystic Theurge. You’ll do very well among us.”
“It’d still be sometime before I could take it. I’m a level eight mage. If I take levels in cleric the next two times I level...”
The theurge interrupted him, shaking her head so fiercely her hair flung back and forth. “You may have figured out some things, but you’re still clueless on others. These are your Trials. This room is an illusion in the basement of the Tower of the Moons. You’re only level three in reality.”
The information hit Grant in the gut. He wasn’t so far along that taking levels in cleric would slow him down considerably. Mystic Theurge would be a great mix for him. Janey and Karen had done nothing but run down the theurges, but maybe the two women were biased.
Lisa held out her hand and medallion. “Touch my medallion. We’re both Neutral, so you’ll get the medallion for a Lawful Neutral cleric. This is your destiny, Grant!”
Grant reached out for his red-haired ex. Arcane spells and divine prayers at his finger tips. The thought made him light-headed.
Before their hands met, he pulled back. “What of Karen?”
“What of her? She’s just a moon mage, limited in magic and beholden to those who sit far away from everything. You’ll have more spell slots than you know what to do with!”
“The moon mages hunt renegades.”
“We’re not renegades. That’s why the Dark One could ask me to join the Trials. He’d never ask a gray robe. Look at it this way: you wouldn’t be leaving the moon mages. You’d just be adding to your power. I know a theurge who started as a moon mage.”
Grant wanted this. Two sets of powers at his disposal. He could do a lot of good that way. He’d never get any more bonus feats from the moon mage class, but he’d still get the spell slots and abilities to cast higher and higher spells. He stretched for Lisa’s medallion.
However, as he looked at Lisa, he could imagine Karen instead. He’d always thought God had used the Veil to bring them back together. He knew that Karen would not make such a change, and that would leave him too close to Lisa for his taste. There were still things she hadn’t told him.
Grant let his arm hang down at his side. “I won’t. I came here as a mage, I will remain a mage.” I won’t let Karen down, either.
Lisa’s eyes flashed and her cheeks burned with anger. “So be it!” She rose into the air, hovering about a foot off the ground. “The final part of every Trial is a magical duel! The Dark One asked me to fight you! Fireball!”
Grant dove to the side as the tiny ball of fire exploded where his chest had been. The heat burned the back of his robes.
Okay, he thought.This was unexpected. He needed to delay her. “Can you at least tell me who you really serve?” Remembering last night’s conversation about rendering unto Caesar, he asked one more question. “Whose image is on you?”
Lisa’s smile was feral. “You figured out I no longer serve the Matronae. Impressive. Most impressive. I serve the Dragon Queen of Chaos!” The medallion against her chest shimmered, and the obverse image changed to a dragon with five heads!
Grant bit his tongue on purpose as he dove behind a pile of rocks. If he said the things that were on his heart, he would get kicked out of seminary.
“Just surrender, Grant. I don’t have to kill you, but I will if you put up a fight.” She threw another fireball at him. It exploded against the rocks.
“How many of those did you prepare this morning?” he asked, trying to think of a high-level counterattack.
“Oh, dear boy! I use more spell slots before breakfast than you do all day! But my arcane class is neither wizard nor mage. It’s sorcerer. I don’t have to prepare a single spell!” Her next spell caused his rock pile to explode.
Sorcerer, he thought, his body stinging from the rock pellets. Spontaneous casting based on charisma. Just as wizards and mages got bonuses based on their intelligence, sorcerers got bonuses on how they could inspire others to follow them. By her looks, she had many bonuses. He saw another pile of rocks and said, “Blink.” He disappeared and reappeared behind the other pile.
From the new new pile, he pointed two fingers at her and shouted, “Rays of Fire!”
Two, orange rays of fire lanced out from his fingers, one striking her and the other being a near miss.
Spinning from the impact, Lisa steadied herself in midair and shook her head to clear it. Moderately wounded, Lisa patted out the fire on her dress.
Singed from the fire, she said, “Tell me, Grant. Why the guardian skull? I felt its presence but couldn’t deactivate it. Did you think I was going to accost you in the night?” Her hollow laughter haunted him.
“No. By then, I had already figured out you three weren’t to be trusted. It was for physical protection.” Winded, he thought hard. What did he still have? He closed his eyes and let the prepared spells in his mind present themselves. He couldn’t overpower her; he’d have to outsmart her and then use magic.
“Hey, Lisa. I figured out your little dilemma.” He could see her floating through a crack in the rocks.
“The one about God and good actions? Oh, do tell. I’m all ears.”
“Wear a sorcerer’s robe with hood, and no one will notice,” he said. Then when the shock registered on her face, he continued. “What God wills is good beca
use He is good. It is his nature. An action is good because it conforms to His nature or evil because it does not.”
Lisa fumed and screamed in rage.
While she screamed, Grant extended his hand palm down to her and cast the spell he had holding. “Enhanced Lightning!”
Electrical current shot from his hand and flowed through her body. Her head whipped back, and she fell to the cave floor, out cold.
Panting hard, Grant looked at his unconscious foes. The last had been very close. To his surprise, his phone beeped. Looking at the notifications, he had two new ones from PCMe. “You and Lisa have left the party of Hector and Sue.” Then, “You and Lisa are no longer questing together.”
Grant rolled his eyes. The app was amazing at stating the obvious.
He checked Hector, Sue, and Lisa, quickly. None of them had life-threatening injuries. He frowned, both glad they would survive and irritated that for all the danger to his life, they would be fine in a short order.
The red robe looked down at Lisa. She looked relaxed and merely asleep but in an uncomfortable position. He thought of rearranging her to a more natural pose but decided against it. He bid her farewell with a quote from the Bible. “I have many things to say to you but you cannot bear them at this time.”
Grant looked at the bags of treasure he and Lisa had filled. Under the rules of Legends and Lore, Grant was entitled to take all of it. He hefted both bags easily. That was the great thing about bags of holding—they never got heavier no matter how much you put in them.
However, before he could take even one more breath, the room around him warbled out, showing the thick, stone-walled basement of the Tower of the Moons. Memories rushed into his head. Lisa had told the truth. He was not a level eight mage; he was undergoing the Trials to progress from third to fourth level. He smiled. That he was still alive meant he had passed.
The bags of treasure and cave disappeared. Grant frowned at losing the loot but a light bulb went off over his head. Oh, well, you can’t hold on to an illusion. Like the memories of my relationship with Lisa.
His former companions and their dog still lay on the basement floor. Grant raised an eyebrow. Surprisingly, they had not been illusions. He stared at Lisa and narrowed his eyes. How much had she been acting?
Looking at his other companions, he trembled. Hector would be blind until he found a cleric to heal him.
Before him, a magical portal opened.
Grinning and wiping the blood off his cheek, Grant stepped through, leaving his former companions behind.
The other side of the portal revealed the pinnacle room of the Tower of the Moons. Tapestries of predominately red, white, and black hung on all the gray stone walls. All the tapestries were in groups of three, always with red between the white and black. An oriental rug of gold and silver stretched across the floor, a Chinese dragon woven in the pattern. The smell of a heavy incense hung in the air. The heads of the three orders sat on their thrones.
Grant limped forward a few steps, the rug cushioning his boot steps, until a pale blue-robed cleric wearing the medallion of St. Jude the Healer came forward and prayed over him.
“Divine Healing.”
Grant’s wounds closed, his breathing eased, and he straightened up. Renewed strength ran through his body. He took a deep breath.
Beside the three thrones stood Karen and Chrissy. Karen looked relieved and magnificent. Chrissy gave him a big smile.
“Welcome, Mage,” boomed the voice of Linas Arpa. The head of the white robes grinned inside his hood. “You have succeeded where many have failed.”
The Dark One spoke next. “Today, you proved your devotion to magecraft even when tempted with the desires of your heart. You could have become a Mystic Theurge, but you choose to stay with us. Congratulations on reaching the fourth level.”
Usually, leveling happened when a Beyonder next woke up; but a bell chimed, and Grant saw in his mind new spell slots open. His stats and skills likewise improved based on how well and often he had used them. When he had a moment after the ceremony, he would open PCMe and assign a few points to endurance.
Grant’s mentor, Mistress Janey, finished. She could not help but grin. “For your actions in the Trials, we have determined that you will continue to wear the red robes of neutrality. Grant Von Wold, preserve the balance!”
Preserve the balance. The words every red-robed mage lived by. Bound to neither good magic nor evil, but able to use either as the occasion required. Grant nodded to her. He knew that one day the balance they sought would finally be obtained when evil was completely banished from creation. Until then, he would use their tools against them.
Grant took the skull from his robes and placed it in front of the thrones, glad to be rid of the evil artifact. “The skull came in handy, my teachers.”
The deep, oily voice of the Dark One came next. “The item was meant to be used, and you used it well. As a reward for passing, please keep the guardian skull. It will come in handy on future quests.” The leader of the black robes grinned without humor.
Grant winced. Using that gruesome skull made him shiver.
“One last thing, Grant,” his mentor said. “Present your bare arm.”
When he did, the three spoke, “Magical Tattoo!” and pointed at the limb. Glowing balls of energy fluttered from their fingers and crawled over his exposed flesh like beetles. When the energy balls winked out, Grant let the sleeve fall.
A gong sounded. The ceremony was over.
Grant relaxed then steeled himself as Karen ran swiftly across the room and threw her arms around him. He flexed his knees to steady himself like Sir Carl had taught him in self-defense.
She kissed him soundly. “I was so worried for you!”
“I made it. I’m good, better than yesterday,” he replied between kisses.
Chrissy trod slowly across the rug to him. “We were a little worried there, red robe. The temptation of Lisa the Mystic Theurge was almost too much for you.”
“Yeah, I came close to...” He trailed off, and the blood drained from his face. “You could see?”
“There’s a scrying room,” Karen said. Anger flashed prettily in her eyes. “We’ll fight later. Right now, I’m just so happy you made it.”
Grant gaped at her. She had watched his whole time being tempted by Lisa to become a Mystic Theurge. Even worse, she had seen how Lisa tempted him to a relationship. Yet, he had done the right thing with the theurge and turned her down flat. His heart rate calmed. Karen would have to take the outcome into account. He had done everything right, in the end.
Linas spoke again. “We bid you farewell, Grant and friends. Serve the magic.” He clapped his hands, shouted, “Teleport!” and the trio found themselves standing in the courtyard of the tower.
“A good day,” Grant said as the breeze rustled his robes.
“Two very good days,” Karen replied. “I kept my boyfriend and made peace with an opponent.”
Chrissy smiled crookedly. “Peace, truce, ceasefire. Call it what you will. We’re not trying to claw each other’s eyes out right now.”
He started to say, “If you decide to fight later, let me know. I bet I can make a mint selling tickets.” Then, he bit back the words, he was Neutral not stupid.
Grant thought for a moment. They would make a formidable trio of magic. “What would you ladies say about starting a little questing party?”
Karen elbowed him. “Not any time soon. We’ve got a quest, remember? You’re to find a cleric, and I’m to find a rogue. No room for another arcane caster, no matter how talented she is. Sorry, Chrissy.”
“No worries,” the black robe said, “I’ve got a party of my own, and believe me, no white robe would want to join in. Probably no room for red, either. Certainly, no room for a paladin like Sir Carl the Brave.” She rolled her eyes.
Karen shivered as Grant put his arm around her. “Can I see your Scar from the Trials?”
Grant stopped and pulled up his sleeve. On his fore
arm where the three in the tower had cast their spell was a tattoo of an old-fashioned beam scale. On one plate was a prayer book while the other held a spell book. The two sides were in perfect balance.
Frank B. Luke grew up in Oklahoma, met his future wife at seminary in Missouri, and now resides in Iowa with her. They have two young boys who keep them busy. They are associate pastors at a small church outside Knoxville, Iowa. While he earns a living as a web developer, she takes care of the house and boys. He writes fantasy and science fiction to explore God's truth in fantastic ways. He finds such story-theology connects with readers on both cognitive and emotional levels.
Other stories in Night Candle setting are forthcoming. More about Frank B. Luke's writing can be found at https://frankluke.wordpress.com/published-in/
The Last Academy
G. Scott Huggins
This is a story I've wanted to write for a long time. It's about the kids missing from Hogwarts. We're never told where they went, but it's strongly implied what happened to them. We know that people with incurable magical maladies were kept in a hospital. We know that only Remus Lupin was ever admitted to Hogwarts. But what about the other kids, who DIDN'T have Albus Dumbledore for a patron? Who fell afoul of a curse that couldn't be reversed, and were written off? What school were THEY sent to?
This is a story of that school, when it becomes the last hope of humanity.
The Last Academy
“What in the name of the ninth circle of hell is going on in here?” Ardmoor demanded, after appearing in Calarzat’s foyer.
“Quiet, please,” said the pale sorcerer, waving his free hand intensely. “This sending is but an echo, and a weak one at that.” Neither of the other people in the room said a word.
Trailing after him, Edric watched the greenish image beneath the sorcerer’s hand: a woman’s disturbingly slack face.
Fantastic Schools: Volume One (Fantastic Schools Anthologies Book 1) Page 19
