It spoke. “…sanctum destroyed completely before any of the White Council could escape. With the Academies in ruins after the Chosen’s treachery, we are left with nothing…” the figure faded, and the pale sorcerer’s shoulders slumped.
“Her spirit is gone,” he whispered. “She was the only soul we could contact. The White Council is no more.”
Edric felt his flesh begin to creep. He looked up at Ardmoor. “Sir…?”
Ardmoor put a firm hand on Edric’s shoulder. “Concentrate, boy,” he said, not unkindly. To the pale wizard, he said sharply, “Who are you?”
The man seemed to see him for the first time and frowned. “Professor Urbanis. Dean of Calarzat.”
And so it was said. Calarzat. The School for Monsters. This was Edric’s fate.
“And who are you?” its Dean continued.
“Albion Ardmoor, Agent of the Council. I must speak with Headmaster Plumbgood immediately.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Urbanis said, “unless you can converse with souls farther gone than Lady Carnadine’s.” He gestured to where the apparition had vanished. “Headmaster Plumbgood is dead.”
Ardmoor rocked back. “Plumbgood dead? Was it the Dark Lord?”
“No,” spoke up the squarishly-build sorceress at Urbanis’s side. “He was handling an Expulsion.” Something about the way she said that word made Edric’s stomach lurch. He felt his control slipping. No, hold it together. “Some sort of thaumaturgical surge passed through our defenses; we all felt it,” the sorceress was saying. “At exactly the wrong time. He lost control. There was nothing we could do.”
“The Dark Lord’s strike, no doubt,” said Ardmoor.
“What was it?” asked Urbanis.
“I was on a mission when the Council contacted me,” said Ardmoor. “The Dark Lord obtained the locations and incantations of the Academies from the Chosen One. He nullified their wards and released a living Baleful Transformation in their halls.”
“Oh, no.” The sorceress with the gray hair put her hands to her mouth. “The Dark Lord captured the Chosen? Henry Mason?”
“A livingBaleful Transform? How is that even possible?” asked Urbanis, who had gone white.
“There is only one way,” Ardmoor said. “They had to have spliced their souls together. Voluntarily.”
“No!”
“Yes. Mason wasn’t captured. He turned. Betrayed us all.”
“Any survivors?” asked the third man, a plump wizard who hadn’t spoken yet.
“None to speak of. Porcinoma. Goodbrand. Stunderthress. All three gone. Staff and students killed. Or worse.”
Worse, thought Edric. It was much worse. Today was the first day of school at Porcinoma. The Baleful Transform would have raced through the halls, a carpet of gray death, hunting down students and faculty alike, twisting their bodies into agonizing shapes of flesh, stone and wood. Destroying their minds with the sheer horror they had become.
“And you bring us another student? Now?” The plump wizard looked straight at Edric as if he knew. Edric felt like a bug on the wrong end of a crystal ball. Don’t lose control!
“Edric and I were on the way when I got the Council’s message,” Ardmoor said. “The Council gave me a last order for Professor Plumbgood. He is released from the Council’s authority and restrictions. He was to fight the Darkness with all possible resources according to his own judgment.”
“Heh,” said Urbanis. “A dead Council sends orders to a dead headmaster. Very symmetrical.”
“Professor Urbanis, I may not have been clear. Your orders from the Council are to fight the Darkness.”
“With what?” Urbanis said.
Ardmoor’s eyes blazed. “Very well, Professor, if I must teach you your own job: At Calarzat Institute are collected the most unusual magical abilities that the Council has ever seen, even if you and your students may view them as curses. They are now the only magical capabilities left to anyone not under the Dark Lord’s sway. What have you been doing with them?”
“We have been educating them,” Tallmadge’s voice suddenly rang with something resembling determination. “In spite of their… disabilities, so that they will be no danger to themselves or others.”
Ardmoor turned to her. “But have you been training them in their abilities, Professor?”
“Since you know such a great deal about educating our charges, Mister Ardmoor,” Urbanis sneered, “would you be so kind as to explain to us what great abilities this young man you have brought along with you possesses? Do tell us how you intend to shape his, ah—unique talents—into a warrior against the Dark Lord.”
Ardmoor speared Urbanis with a glance. “How many of your charges have been to Porcinoma?” He nodded to Edric. “Edric has. He’s a 4th year. And has studied with Harmony Farmwell.”
“Henry Mason’s friend?” asked Tallmadge.
“No, the otherHarmony Farmwell that goes to Porcinoma,” said the plump wizard disdainfully. “And what did the most gifted young sorceress in a generation teach you, my boy?” His tone was smoother. Oily. Edric didn’t like it.
“Later,” Ardmoor said, “Since we must establish authority: Urbanis, I believe yours derives from the Ministry of Magical Education?”
“Yes, and?” Urbanis said.
“Mine comes directly from the White Council. My orders supersede yours. Please see Edric to a safe place and then attend me. We have a lot to get straight.”
Professor Tallmadge said little to Edric as she showed him his room. It looked like a cell. “Will I have roommates?” he asked. He could only see the one bed, a mattress in a plain, varnished wooden box.
“It might not be safe,” said Professor Tallmadge. She looked down at him. “For you or them. Whatever Agent-of-the-Council Ardmoor thinks, I have to know now, before I place you near my other students. What is it that has brought you to Calarzat?”
Edric couldn’t meet her eyes. “Theriomorphosis. It went wrong.”
Tallmadge hissed between her teeth. “At your age, you tried...?”
“My neighbor’s daughter was missing!” Edric shouted. “A little mundane girl, and their police couldn’t find her. I knew her! I thought, if I could turn myself into a dog that could think,I’d be able to track her scent!” He was very close to losing control, now, but he didn’t care.
“How badly did it go wrong?”
Edric took three deep breaths before answering. “My morphic field is gone.”
Tallmadge winced. “How often do you lose control? When you sleep?”
Edric nodded.
“Other times?”
“I have to concentrate. To hold my shape.”
Tallmadge sighed. “Dr. Gleeman will have a lot of questions for you.”
“When do I meet him?”
“You already did. Upstairs.”
The plump wizard who had asked about Harmony.
“Would you like to join the rest of the students in the dining hall?” asked Tallmadge.
“I’m not hungry,” Edric whispered.
“Ever?”
“Not now.”
“Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to get over that. It’s best to keep up your strength. Follow me.”
Calarzat’s dining hall was nothing like Porcinoma’s. Porcinoma had had a dungeon. Calarzat was a dungeon, and now he was deeper inside of it. Like the floor above, it was walled with stone, but the low ceiling was plastered in a warm orange. A single wooden table extended the length of the room, which was shaped like a wedge with the tip snipped off. There was a small dais at the narrower end, but no table sat on it.
Professor Tallmadge ascended the dais. “I would like to introduce our new student, Edric. He has come to us from Porcinoma. While I should like to stay and explain matters, I am afraid I am urgently needed in conference.”
No sooner had she spoken these words than she gave a wave of her hands and teleported.
Edric was alone in the room.
The table was lit b
y a single, long candelabrum, apparently powered by gas. Each seat had before it not a plate and a bowl, but plate- and bowl-shaped depressions that were molded into it. Students sat around each end of the table with a wide space between them that was entirely unoccupied. There were about a half-dozen at each end.
Near the dais, a blindfolded girl sat across from a normal-looking boy who had his left hand stuck under the table. Next to him sat an older girl, who had to be in her final year, in a wheelchair. Her legs were strapped down, feet encased in surprisingly bright, shining red shoes. Across from her…
Was a sphere of absolute darkness. It lapped over the table. It nearly touched the chairs on either side. No one seemed to notice.
At the opposite end of the table sat six boys and girls who looked absolutely normal. They chatted quietly among themselves.
Edric decided to join them.
He got about two seats away when every eye locked onto him. The biggest of them, a boy of about seventeen, held up a hand.
“Are you a wolf?”
“A what?” asked Edric.
All of the six grinned without smiling.
“Thought not,” said the boy. “Begone.”
“Look,” said Edric, “I don’t know what you…”
“Sit with us,” said the boy, looking Edric dead in the eyes, “And we will rip your throat out.” He said this without the slightest hint of threat. He might have been telling Edric his plans for the weekend.
Edric pivoted and walked away.
There was already a chair pushed back next to the boy who was eating with one hand. Edric began to sit.
“Excuse me, but this seat is taken,” said an exasperated voice.
Edric jumped. He almost lost form. “What?”
The boy next to him was looking up with an amused expression on his face, but Edric would swear he hadn’t spoken.
“Yes, I know, you weren’t to know,” said the voice, which sounded like a young boy’s. “But I promise you that I am here, even though you can’t see me. Although honestly, the food might have been a clue.”
Edric blinked. There was indeed about a third of a meal on the plate in front of the seat. And the seat-cushion was flattened.
“Look, you can sit opposite me if you like.”
“Um, thank you.”
That meant that Edric had to walk around the girl in the wheelchair, the head of the table, and then the sphere of darkness, which was uncomfortably close to the wall.
“Um,” Edric said, trying not to address anyone in particular, “Is that dangerous?”
“No,” said a girl’s voice from inside the sphere. “Just don’t stick your head inside it.”
Edging around so as not to touch it, Edric sat down next to the blindfolded girl with grayish skin. As he did so, his plate filled. There was a steaming portion of shepherd’s pie, some white bread, and a cherry tart. The food looked decent enough, but it didn’t appear he was going to get any choice.
“Are you Edric?” the girl asked, without turning to face him.
“Yes,” he said.
“I’m Gwen.” She faced him and smiled, offering her hand in his general direction. He took it. Her hand felt unusually dry and cold. “Thanks for sitting with us.”
“It wasn’t his first choice,” said the girl in the wheelchair, sourly.
“Oh, come off it, Karen,” said the boy across from Gwen with a smile. “Half the people at the table tried to sit down there. It’s a shock finding yourself at Calarzat with the monsters. Can’t blame people for wanting to latch on to what looks normal.” He nodded to Edric. “Hi, I’m Callahan.”
Edric extended his hand. Callahan gave a wry smile. “Thanks, but you don’t want to do that.” He pushed himself back and withdrew his hand. Instantly, the candles guttered out, and he held up a hand that was alive from wrist to fingertips in incandescent flames.
“Ah… I see,” said Edric. “I could shake the other hand?”
“Not unless you like second-degree burns,” Callahan said.
“Oi! Kindling! Lights!” yelled the biggest wolf, from down the table.
Callahan slid his hand back under the table, and the candles sprang to life. “It’s useful.” He gestured to the chair beside him. “That’s Ian.”
“Sorry I tried to sit on you.”
“Oh, it’s all right, I suppose.”
Edric turned to Gwen. Might as well get the awkward parts over with. “Why are your eyes bandaged? Did you hurt them?”
“Not exactly. Are you afraid of snakes?”
Edric blinked. “Not particularly. Why?”
For an answer, her hair parted, and a thin snake peered out at him brightly. His mouth dried up as he realized what he was sitting next to. “You’re a… gorgon?”
“In a way. The Dark Lord cursed me when I was four. An attempt to blackmail my family. But I started out as a human. Calarzat is for human monsters.”
“Is that what happened to you?” Edric asked Callahan.
“Um, no,” said Callahan. “I’m afraid we had a bit of a house fire when I was seven years old. My Dad panicked and tried to cast a spell so the fire wouldn’t hurt me. It worked. Sort of. You see, the fire became my best friend. And it never wants to go away.”
“Can you control it?”
“Can you control your friends?” asked Callahan. “It gets… upset if I do that too much. You don’t want to see it angry. Ian’s dad tried to keep him safe, too. From the Dark Lord. Turned him invisible. Permanently.”
“Callahan!” snapped Karen. “You don’t talk about other people’s conditions. You know the rules.”
“I don’t mind,” said Ian. “S’true.”
“That’s not the point,” Karen said.
“What about them?” asked Edric, jerking a nod toward the group at the other end of the table. “They look normal enough.”
“It’s not full moon,” said Ian.
“Werewolves? ”Callahan nodded. “Don’t like anyone else much, do they?”
“If you’re not a wolf, you’re not worth anything to them,” Callahan said.
Even Karen didn’t bother to dispute this. “And you’re here because… you can’t walk?”
Karen frowned. “No one at Calarzat is compelled to talk about why they are here unless they want to. And I don’t.”
“What about you?” Callahan asked. “What brings you here?”
“It’s hard to explain,” Edric said. I don’t want to explain it.
Karen scoffed. “Wants to know our secrets but keep his own.”
“Can you show us?” asked Callahan.
“Uh… not if you want to keep eating,” Edric said, staring down at his plate.
“And you’ve been to Porcinoma?” asked Gwen.
“Yes,” Edric muttered. He wished he was back there, with his friends. Except he’d be dead. With his friends. Hold it together!“Haven’t any of you?”
“Are you kidding? What’s it like?” asked Callahan.
“Almost none of the students here have ever been accepted. What year did you make it to?” asked Gwen. Even Karen was giving him an appraising, half-bitter look.
“Third year,” said Edric.
“Go on,” said Ian.
“Well…” and suddenly he was telling them about Porcinoma. The lake, the shifting staircases, the houses (“What house were you?” asked Callahan. “Owltalon.”) and the Great Hall with its holiday feasts.
“At Porcinoma, teachers usually eat with the students. Don’t they ever do that, here? I mean, they wouldn’t now, of course.”
“They don’t spend more time with the monsters than they have to.”
“And what do you mean, ‘they wouldn’t now?’” asked Karen, spearing him with a glance.
Edric told them. There was a silence.
“You mean, the Dark Lord’s won?” asked Ian.
“Looks that way,” said Edric.
Three horrified faces looked at him. All right, probably five, assuming the vo
ice in the dark sphere had a face. But he couldn’t see two of them. “They’re not talking about fighting any more. They’re talking about hiding.”
The door to the dining hall swung open. Ardmoor strode in, and his face was a thundercloud. Tallmadge, Urbanis and Gleeman followed him in, looking cowed and ashamed. Ardmoor leaped onto the dais and waited impatiently for the rest of them to join him.
“I’m not going to shout or repeat myself, so I would like all of you to join us as near as possible to this end of the table,” he said in an even voice.
The werewolf students at the back of the room stared at him coldly.
“I said, get up and move down here. Now.”
Slowly, the six young men and women pushed themselves up out of their chairs and, taking their time, slouched over beside Edric and Ian and threw themselves down into their seats.
“Oh, thank you,” Ardmoor said. “I will keep this as brief as possible. Your instructors here, under Dr. Plumbgood, were given charge of you. To teach you to be capable and well-adjusted young sorcerers and sorceresses, overcoming your challenges as best you could. In this charge, they have failed, choosing instead to treat you as monsters, who could neither be trusted nor taught to use the powers that are your birthright. Instead, they have taught you to hide yourselves and conform. Dr. Plumbgood, who is most responsible for this sad state of affairs, is dead. And justice for his foolishness has been served as far as that is possible.”
Karen raised her hand.
“Yes?”
“Sir, is it true what Edric has told us?”
“I am going to assume that because Edric is a responsible young man, he has told you the truth: that the Dark Lord has corrupted Henry Mason, the Chosen of Prophecy. It is all true. The White Council is dead. And the Dark Lord will soon be coming here with all of his strength.”
Edric very nearly lost control at that. Karen swayed in her chair. Callahan looked sick.
“How could they possibly know where to find us?” asked Tallmadge.
“The White Council was raising Henry Mason up to fight the Dark Lord,” said Ardmoor. “They kept few secrets from him. He learned the location and importance of Calarzat. Better than you, it would seem.”
“But why would he come here?” Urbanis demanded. “You still haven’t explained that.”
Fantastic Schools: Volume One (Fantastic Schools Anthologies Book 1) Page 20
