by T. H. Hunter
We spent the rest of the lesson learning to move as silently as possible. Rather anti-climactic, I thought. But I suppose you had to start somewhere.
***
“Pretty impressive, don’t you think? Strange guy, though.”
It was Jayden, who had caught up with us after class on our way to the West Tower. A red colour immediately flushed Lynn’s face, though she made a valiant effort at pretending to be indifferent to his approach.
“Yeah, I guess,” she said.
Jayden gave me a toothy grin – the sort that told me he was a little too cocky. He wasn’t going to give up this easily, anyway.
“Hey, are you guys game for a beer later in MCE South?” he asked.
Seeing my puzzled look, he added: “The Middle Common Room in the South Tower. The guys at South Tower’ve got some barrels of beer from the kitchens. Should be fun.”
“D’you guys want to come?” Jayden asked a little too quickly, revealing his nervousness.
With the briefest of glances, Lynn told me that there was nothing in the world she wanted to do more. She really had the hots for him.
“Sure, Jayden,” I said. “What time?”
“Eight-thirty,” he said. ”Nice, I’ll see you there!”
***
The next lecture was Engineering with Master Gorgos. It turned out that the massive West Tower was no ordinary tower but the gargoyles’ living quarters. Only the outer walls were left stand because all the floors in between had been removed, so that we could see right through to the roof. Staircases at the side allowed the students access to further seats on galleries.
Master Gorgos looked just as mean as the rest of the gargoyles. He flapped down to class as his introduction, which certainly won him the best entrance of any teacher so far. From what I could tell, though, he certainly knew what he was doing. There wouldn’t be any messing around in his class, so much was clear. Unlike the previous class, students were exceptionally silent.
After the introduction, it was hard to follow his deep tones on 14th century architecture for long. My mind kept wandering to the last moment I had seen Doctor Wiley. Now that I thought about it, he had been extremely stressed, even anxious. It was probably innocent enough, probably some urgent family matter or so. Perhaps too delicate to share with the staff. A nagging feeling remained within me nonetheless.
Our next class was Vampiric History with Doctor Yurasov, whom I hadn’t been looking forward to meeting again. It turned out, however, that he didn’t seem to holding any grudges against me at all. Quite the contrary, in fact, he lauded my attempts at escape in front of the class, stating that he hadn’t seen such an elaborate escape [delete if not changed above] in years.
“I do hope we’ll be able to convince you to stay from now on, Miss Flynn. Despite the final exams.”
He gave us the course outline for the semester, which covered the basics of Vampiric History from its prehistoric origins to the modern age. I wasn’t really that into history usually, though some of the lesson titles, such as “The First Vampiric-Ursinian War”, promised to be a definite change from memorising the usual dates and people.
***
“Only Martial Arts with Matei left for today,” Lynn said, looking at her schedule. “Dungeons.”
I could tell that Lynn was secretly counting the hours until the party in the evening when she would see Jayden again.
Doctor Matei turned out to be an extremely fit woman of about 30. Unsurprisingly, this made her by far the most popular teacher with the boys. Vanessa and her clique, I could tell from afar, were less than impressed. She had spent the time waiting talking about how skilled she was with various swords and much she had practiced with her uncle [he must be some sort of big wig].
“You’ll learn to fight in my class,” Dr. Matei told us as soon as she arrived, placing a long white bag on the grass, “and use your abilities to aid your blows. Weapons of choice vary for vampires as it is both a matter of style and aptitude. Today, we will begin with a few basic moves with the rapier.”
She beckoned us forward.
“I need one volunteer,” she said.
A tall, blond-haired student from the back raised his hand.
“Yes, come to the front please. What’s your name?”
“Roger,” he said, winking at his friends.
“Have you got any experience, Roger?” she asked.
“No, Dr. Matei,” he said, still unable to take the proceedings with a straight face.
Dr. Matei took out two rapiers from the bag and handed one of them to Roger. She spent the next minutes explaining the intricate traditions of preparing for combat.
“These are practice weapons in order to keep wounds to a minimum. Keep in mind that real weapons will inflict far worse – even fatal – injuries. And now, Roger, defend yourself,” she said.
He looked rather dumbstruck, clumsily raising his rapier. As quick as a flash, Dr. Matei had circumvented his defences and landed an expert blow on his chest.
We were each handed a rapier and spent the next hour learning how to grip our weapon and how to position our feet, moving on to parrying techniques. The weapon felt light and natural in my hand. The more I practiced with the rapier, the more I got the impression that I was recovering some lost and long-forgotten skill. This was impossible, of course, since I’d never so much as held a sword in my life. Lynn, on the other hand, was having much more trouble, especially when Dr. Matei stopped to watch us practice the moves we had learnt.
“What is your name?” she asked me.
“Rebecca,” I answered.
“Good work. Keep it up.”
“Thanks,” I said.
After a while, Dr. Matei addressed us again:
“For the last 15 minutes, we will have some more practice duels. How about two volunteers.”
Nobody seemed willing. I put up my hand, more to break the awkward silence than anything else.
“Yes, Rebecca, excellent,” she said. “And one more. How about you, Vanessa?” Dr. Matei said.
“Of course, Dr. Matei.”
My blood froze. I turned around to see Vanessa’s sly grin. Those cold blue eyes were full of spitefulness and arrogance. We raised our rapiers immediately.
“Now, now, girls,” came Dr. Matei’s voice from what seemed to be a very far away place. “Protocol, please.”
Reluctantly, both Vanessa and I mechanically bowed, weapons raised with the hilt facing downward as Dr. Matei had previously demonstrated.
“And fight,” Dr. Matei said
We circled around each other slowly at first. Then, out of nowhere, Vanessa lunged at me with a quick stab, aimed straight at my face. With trouble, I parried, though her message got through alright: she wasn’t messing around. But neither was I.
She hadn’t been exaggerating, she really was good at this. Vanessa launched another attack, which I managed to dodge only by mere inches and started a counter-attack of my own. She was obviously taken by surprise but managed to fend off the blade.
The people around us moved in to get a closer look. After another violent exchange, we hadn’t been able to penetrate each others’ defences, though I was steadily getting more confident with the weapon in my hand. Vanessa, however, was getting flustered. Her manoeuvers were also getting far more risky, too, I noticed.
“You can’t beat me, Flynn,” she said, just loud enough for only me to hear.
“We’ll see,” I said.
At that precise moment, she moved in and stabbed, though I was ready this time. I stepped to the side and landed a heavy blow on her shoulder.
“Well done, Rebecca,” Dr. Matei said. “A little wild in style perhaps, but an excellent demonstration of how to punish overly aggressive attackers.”
Vanessa was red in the face with supressed rage.
“That will be all for this week. Please return your weapons in an orderly fashion, and we’ll pick up from here next week. Make sure you to practice in your tutorials,” Dr. Matei
said.
I was about to join Lynn and the others when Dr. Matei put her hand on my shoulder.
“Wait a moment, please, Rebecca.”
“Sure,” I said.
She waited for the class to leave and closed the door.
“Where on earth did you learn to fight like that?”
“I didn’t – I mean, this was my first time,” I said.
She mustered me incredulously.
“Well done, indeed. You’re extremely talented. In fact, you might be good material for the Knights.”
“The Knights?”
“The Scarlet Knights. A team of elite fighters and doctors,” she said, “dedicated to protecting our community.”
“Like a police force?” I asked.
“Well, not exactly. The gargoyles would come closer to that function, amongst their many other roles. The Knights take orders only from the Council. Our missions are quite diverse, ranging from rescuing prospective Initiates, like yourself,” she said, smiling approvingly at me, “to operations against the Outlaws. Whatever is required of us, we will do. Within certain ethical boundaries, of course.”
I didn’t know what to say, but luckily Dr. Matei continued.
“I will not promise you anything. Far from it. But if you train hard, hone your skills, and perform well during the upcoming tournament, I will see that you get your chance on the team. You really are a natural.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” I said, “for everything.”
10
“You should’ve seen her face after class, Beccs,” Lynn said, taking another sandwich from the table. “She was mad, really mad. I thinks she’s planning your murder any day now.”
“Serves her right,” Jayden said lazily.
The Middle Common Room in the South Tower was packed with people, drinking and laughing, talking and kissing. News of the rapier duel with Vanessa had spread like wildfire throughout the castle. I couldn’t remember being this happy in a long time, surrounded by people I liked and respected and who in turn liked me.
Lynn was sitting next to Jayden. Jayden looked rather pleased with himself, sporting a smile stretching from ear to ear.
“Hey, Beccs,” a voice came from my left.
I turned my head. It was Steve.
“Hey, Steve,” I said, “come and join us.”
“Thanks for rescuing me from that witch,” he said, sitting down on the comfortable sofa.
“Any time,” I said.
“What witch?” Jayden asked.
“I think they mean Dr. Criswell,” Lynn said.
“Oh, I’ve heard of her… Damn, no drinks left. Who’s turn is it to go downstairs?” he said.
“I’ll go,” Lynn said, adding: “With Beccs.”
I looked rather bewildered, but noticing Lynn’s pressing yet telling stare, I agreed.
“Yeah, ok,” I said, taking the key to the wine cellar from the table. One of the guys had stolen it to from the janitor, or so they told us at least.
“Wait, you’d better take some matches, too,” Jayden said. “For light.”
“Thanks,” I said, pocketing the matches.
On the stairs, when we were safely out of earshot, I turned to Lynn.
“What’s the matter, Lynn?”
“What do you think of Jayden, Beccs?”
“An upstanding young man, ready for dinner parties at your parents’ place anytime.”
“No, I mean seriously, Beccs.”
“Well. He’s cute, sporty type. What’s wrong with him?”
“I – we just don’t seem to have that much in common. He hates reading. All he ever talks about is getting into the Task Force.”
We had reached the end of the stairs and found ourselves in a circular corridor, with doors leading off it all-around. Most of them seemed to be for storage of one kind or another. Finally, we found the door that read “Wine Cellar”.
Fumbling for the key in my pocket, I took them out and placed them in the lock.
The wine cellar was much larger than I had expected, though quite dark as the only source of light was a single torch burning in the corridor behind us. I lit one of the matches Jayden had given me. It wasn’t really a cellar, as there were several very narrow windows at the back, but the night was so dark it didn’t matter. From what I could make out, the room not only had a lot of wine but was also stacked with all sorts of foods and other drinks.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Lynn said.
I didn’t like to admit it, but the place gave me the creeps, too.
“Come on,” I said, pretending to be unperturbed. “Let’s grab the wine and get back upstairs. Damn, I dropped the match.”
Suddenly, there was a sound like breaking glass.
“Did you hear that?” I whispered, stopping in my tracks.
“Maybe somebody’s here?” Lynn said.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
“It came from the direction over there,” she said. “Beccs, wait, what are you doing?”
I lit another match and walked over to where the sound had come from. Lynn, more out of terror than out of adventure, followed close behind me.
“There’s another door over here!” I said.
I tried to it, but it was locked. Squinting hard at the faded letters imprinted on the door, I held the match higher to read the dusty description, but the light was too dark and the letters too faded to read anything.
“Oh, look,” Lynn said in a relieved voice. “It’s just a broken bottle of wine. It must have fallen from the rack.”
She was right. Lighting another match, I side-stepped the puddle and looked at the wines. I was no expert, but the collection certainly looked impressive, with old vintages from all over the world. We passed along them in awe.
“It’s too dark, I can’t read any of the labels properly,” Lynn said, squinting at one of the wines.
She leant over to me to get some light.
“Careful, Lynn,” I said.
But too late, Lynn, had stepped right into the puddle.
“Yuck,” she said, moving back. “My trainers are all sticky.”
I lowered the flame to see. From close up, I could see Lynn’s shoe pattern imprinted in the dark red liquid on the floor. Then, with a rush of fear, I saw that there was another print, of a much larger foot, right next to it. I gripped her by the arm.
“There’s somebody else here,” I whispered.
“What,” Lynn said, panicking fast. “What do you mean?”
“Look,” I said, pointing at the other print.
Lynn’s face went white.
“We’ve got to get out of here, I –”
We froze. There was another sound, a very faint tinkling. It was coming from the other room.
“There’s something behind that door,” I said.
“Beccs, let’s get out of here. I’m scared.”
But before we could so much as move, the door suddenly burst open, and a figure of a large man appeared in the doorway. Lynn gave a bloodcurdling cry as he rushed at us with such force that we were both knocked off of our feet, hurling us back into the rack of wines. Amidst the shower of glass and liquid, the figure jumped to the door, slamming it violently behind him.
“What on earth was that?” Lynn said.
“No idea,” I said, gingerly massaging my head, which was bleeding slightly. “I was distracted by bottles pounding my skull.”
“Very funny, Beccs.”
We heard voices outside.
“Who’s that?” Lynn asked, her panic returning.
This time, however, it was unfounded. It turned out to be some late-comers, two second years, who had been on their way upstairs to the party and had overheard the commotion. Unluckily for us, they hadn’t seen who it was either.
“Woah, what happened, did you fall into the wine rack?”
“No, we didn’t, we were pushed,” I said with some irritation. Our would-be rescuers were a little too amused at the scene for my
liking.
I got up painfully. My head was still buzzing as I helped Lynn get back on her feet. The room looked like a total mess. There was wine and glass everywhere, as the entire rack had collapsed on us.
The door to the adjacent room stood wide open now. Holding my still buzzing head in one hand and a match in my other, I huddled over. What had he been after in there?
“What is the meaning of this?”
The sound of Mrs. Prill’s voice, shrill but not quite authoritative, was unmistakable. We were in deep trouble now.
I pulled out the key. If they found out we had it, there’d be even more to pay for. Looking around, I quickly stuffed it into a large wooden box on the nearest shelf.
I slipped back into the wine room as smoothly as I could. A bad-tempered Mrs. Prill had arrived in a nightgown and was in the process of berating Lynn.
“But it wasn’t us!” she said.
“Us?” Mrs. Prill said, glancing around. Her eyes focussed on me in her usual hawkish manner. “Miss Flynn, what on earth have you been up to in here?”
There was no use denying it. At least, not the whole thing.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Prill. We were having a party upstairs and…”
“…and you thought you’d help yourself to Castle property, did you?”
“I mean…”
“And then you decided to vandalise the entire room!” she said, almost in a fit now.
“We were attacked! You didn’t think we did that, do you?” I said, now also angry.
“Of course I do. I will write my report first thing in the morning. Student vandalism is punished very severely at this institution, I can assure you, Miss Flynn.”
“But Beccs is right, we were attacked. A man…” Lynn said.
This just seemed to irritate her further.
“Please, Miss Adams, I do not want to listen to your rehearsed stories. You’ve been caught stealing from the wine cellar, and you will have to bear the consequences.”
“He was in there,” I said, pointing to the room in which the attacker had hidden.
