Rise of the Retics

by T J Lantz

  “I am a Svartálfar, a dark elf. You do not need to fear asking simple questions.”

  “How did you know I was . . . .?”

  “No, I cannot read your mind, but I see you staring at me like I have twelve heads. I can make viable assumptions from that point. You should work on making yourself less transparent.”

  “Yeah,” Jaxon responded. “I’ll make sure to do that right away.”

  Several minutes went by as Jaxon and Rigby followed Lord Malverne North, away from the heart of the city, without either party speaking.

  “I saw you in the arena a few weeks ago,” said Malverne, finally breaking the awkward silence between them.

  “Thank you,” said Jaxon, beaming with pride that he already had admirers. Perhaps this guy wasn’t going to be as difficult as he seemed. He obviously had a keen eye for talent.

  “There is no need to thank me, Jaxon. I never said you were good. You got very lucky against a superior opponent who underestimated you. If you were to have another match, the young Florensian would almost certainly end your life and no one would weep for you.”

  Jaxon was taken back by Malverne’s words. He had thought that he was supposed to be here to teach him to be the most powerful sorcerer in Rosehaven, not to insult him. Jaxon could feel his annoyance begin to bubble up inside him. Sensing his anger, Rigby began to let out a low rumbling growl. He put his hand out flat to let her know it was ok.

  “I could have beaten her anytime I wanted. I was just playing with her. You know, for the crowd and all.” Jaxon spoke with his usual confidence, but even he was starting to wonder. Sure Samantha was just a girl, but wow was she fast. He barely knew what direction she was coming from most of the match. Not to mention, had he not managed to create the fireball, that final sword thrust might have gone right through his chest, as it was perfectly placed around the side of the breastplate. Jaxon still had absolutely no idea how he did that, but he was positive he deserved full credit for the action.

  “Your arrogance will be your downfall, Demon. As it has been for your people for millennia.”

  “Downfall! What are you talking about? Everyone knows demons are the most powerful beings in the world.” Jaxon wasn’t exactly sure where he had learned that bit of information, but he was confident that his facts were indisputable.

  “Powerful? Yes, they are powerful. The most powerful? Well that’s up for debate. But one thing that I do know is that simply having power does not make one a good leader or even a decent creature. Knowing when and how to use your power are far more important skills. I have not agreed to train you to make you powerful Jaxon. That would be quite easy based on what I’ve already seen. No, I agreed to train you so that one day you may be proud of who you are, instead of just being proud of what you are. Well, half of what you are I should say. Whether you like it or not, any abilities you are able to harness in life will be just as much attributed to your human half, as they are to your demon side. A retic is not two halves but a whole being, and no power in the world can change that.”

  The more Malverne spoke the less Jaxon understood him. He already was proud of who he was! He was a powerful demon sorcerer, or at least he would be one day soon. He had made fire appear from thin air. He had scorched his enemies to near death, and though he might have felt a bit of guilt afterward he was sure there were no more than a handful of other people in the world that could do that. And soon, he was going to be able to control it better than any of them.

  No one spoke again until they arrived at Thales Academy. The building was one of the oldest on the island, built hundreds of years ago from simple gray stones. It was huge—three stories tall, with its walls covered in lush green ivy, and windows filled with actual glass. It was magnificent.

  A set of aged stone steps led to a great archway over a heavy oak door. On each side, a large stone gryphon statue stood vigil, its lion body and eagle head and wings blended into a single beautiful creature.

  “The statues are of Quicktalon and Strongbeak, two gryphons who fought with Lord Laszlo at the Battle of Jaca. It was one of the final battles in the Great War, not long before Rosehaven was founded. You may look at them as little more than beasts, but they were great heroes as well, Jaxon. When the battle had already been lost and Lord Laszlo had sounded the retreat, both these brave creatures made the decision to ignore their training. They dove from the safety of the skies headfirst into the pursuing human soldiers, causing widespread chaos and buying the retics enough time to regroup and make it to safety. They both died that day protecting the retic army as it escaped to safety. They saved hundreds of lives with their valiant act, including an ancestor of mine. That, Jaxon, is true power.”

  Jaxon stared at the statues. He appreciated the incredible look of the two beasts, but he couldn’t understand why someone would create a statue honoring two creatures that helped lose a battle? He just didn’t see this power that Lord Malverne spoke of. He had to remember that when he became lord protector to make sure to have them removed and replaced with a more appropriate symbol. Perhaps an image of Savnock would work? Or maybe even one of himself?

  Malverne walked up to the doorway and knocked three times. With a small shhhkk a peep hole slid open and Jaxon could see two dark green eyes peering out at him from inside the building. After a few moments the peephole slammed shut and Jaxon could hear a series of loud noises as the locks were being opened. He wasn’t sure why they would need locks on a school to keep people out, as he figured just being a school did that already.

  After a minute, the door began to open. Standing behind it was the doorkeeper, a small green-skinned goblin as old and feeble as any creature Jaxon had ever seen. He sat on a small wooden stool just behind the great doors and greeted each of them with a nod, including Rigby. He wore tattered clothing and smelled of strong wine.

  “Good day, Master Flehm. May I present to you our newest student? This is Jaxon Miniheart.”

  “Master Flehm,” said Jaxon to Rigby, but loud enough for Lord Malverne to hear. “Master of what? He looks like the only thing he could be master of is his own grave.”

  “Shut your mouth, Miniheart,” Malverne whispered angrily through clenched teeth. “One, I will not tolerate disrespect toward any retic from any of my charges, let alone you. Second, your comments are going to get you killed one day. Master Flehm was the survivor of a litter of seventeen.[21] He could slit your throat before you knew he was there.”

  “What did you say? Speak louder, will ya!” Flehm cupped his ear and turned it toward them, assuming it would help him hear better. Jaxon nearly gagged at the grape sized wax ball that sat entwined in Flehm’s ear hair.

  “He might be able to slit my throat, Instructor, but I can guarantee you he wouldn’t hear me complaining about it.” Jaxon snickered as Flehm continued to demand a reintroduction.

  Malverne ignored Jaxon’s humor.

  “I SAID, I PRESENT JAXON MINIHEART, OUR NEW STUDENT!”

  A mucus filled Cough! Cough! erupted through Flehm’s lips before he could find the air to speak. “Well, you don’t need to scream you know. I’m right in front of you. Miniheart? Miniheart? That name sounds very familiar . . . wait one second.” Flehm tapped his finger to his temple, as if it would magically restore the memory that time destroyed. “Wait! I remember now . . . are you the boy that hid a tomato in the beefeater’s steak tartar?”

  “Yeah, that was me.” Jaxon loved knowing that one of his pranks had gained him such far spread fame. He had always been particularly proud of that one.

  “That was great,” Flehm continued. “I heard those lumbering oafs spent two weeks visiting Dr. Kelda every hour because they thought they were going to die from vegetable poisoning! I loved it! My wife and I laughed for hours over that one.”

  “Flehm!” interrupted Malverne, “Perhaps we can avoid reinforcing such inappropriate behavior. Mr. Miniheart is here to learn better outlets for his energy. If you have nothing worthwhile to add to the conversation please do us
all a favor and add nothing.”

  “Oh! Of course, sir. My apologies.” Jaxon gave Malverne a dirty look. He hoped he wasn’t going to put a stop to every interesting thing Jaxon ran into just because he didn’t feel it was appropriate.

  Malverne nodded his acceptance and began walking down the dark stone corridor located to Flehm’s right. As Jaxon and Rigby followed, Flehm gave them one last grin of approval. Maybe everything here wasn’t going to be completely terrible.

  They didn’t walk far before turning right and entering a small stone stairwell. They headed up one flight of winding stairs and turned left into another similar corridor. After about twenty yards Malverne stopped in front of a wooden door.

  “This is your room. You will live here for the next five years, provided you don’t get expelled or your classmates don’t murder you while you sleep. You have an hour to get settled and cleaned before you need to be in the great room for the welcome assembly and feast. Stay in this section of the building, please. The other students might not look kindly to your intruding into their areas.” With that final piece of advice, Malverne was gone and Jaxon and Rigby were alone.

  “Welcome home, girl,” Jaxon said to Rigby, not nearly as excited about the new accommodations as she was. He walked around the large stone room taking it all in, as his canine companion bounded from one bed to the other trying to figure out which one she liked best.

  The room was quite spacious, much bigger than Jaxon had enjoyed back at the Hoofstomps’ house. There was a bed on each side, with a large window on the back wall separating the room into two halves. The walls and floor were both cold, gray stone, but while the walls were bare, the floor was covered in a fine red rug, with several repeating gold patterns.

  Jaxon walked to the window and surveyed the land below him. His room was on the interior side of the building and faced down into an open courtyard. There was a handful of benches surrounding a nicely kept grassy area, with several large plants and small trees dotted throughout. On one side a small running creek traveled along the building, trapped by a small stone wall. Jaxon could see little fish swimming happily in the little waterway, completely unaware of how insignificant their lives were. Even though he knew he was well on his way to be the most powerful creature on the island, it was hard not to feel like an insignificant fish sometimes.

  This was the first time he had ever had to leave a home without purposely trying. While he may have hated living with the Hoofstomps for the past few years, it had still been his home. It had been the only place out of the many that he had stayed in that deserved to be called that word—home. Jaxon couldn’t help wondering if he would ever truly have one again.

  Turning to the bed Rigby had chosen, Jaxon flopped down face first into the pillow. He noticed that his strange new allergy must have returned as water began to well up in his eyes again and his nose began to sniffle. And with that, Jaxon Miniheart, the self-proclaimed highly-powerful demon sorcerer, cried himself to sleep as the only constant still left in his life tried desperately to lick his buried face.

  Chapter 14

  Gnomes and Other Things that Go Boom in the Night

  Tyranna

  Rosehaven: The Alabater Tower

  October 27, 1503

  “Please, step forward, young lady,” said the silver haired older gentleman. Gnemo nodded at her indicating it was time to present herself.

  “I am Tyranna Wolfskin, my lord. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Tyranna bowed as gracefully as she could. She moved her cloak to try to cover the slash marks the gargoyles had left in her pants.

  “The pleasure is mine, young one, as it is whenever one of our lost sheep is able to rejoin our flock. I trust your trip went well? I know I always get horribly air sick whenever I fly on Melvin. Much prefer gryphons, much smoother ride.

  “Yes sir, the ride was fantastic.” She decided to leave out the part about the gargoyles. She figured it was Gnemo’s place to tell him about that, not hers.

  “Excellent,” he replied. “Now that you have arrived, we need to discuss this business of what is to be done with you. As I’m sure you heard I have decided that you will be part of Thales Academy’s incoming class this year. I hope that pleases you.”

  “It does my lord, very much so. I enjoy learning.” Tyranna’s smile showed her sincerity.

  “As all children should. You are lucky in a way, as your early arrival has brought you here in time for the opening day festivities. They begin this afternoon. As a small gift to welcome you to your new home, I have placed a few dragon-marks in the treasury under your name. It is not much, but should be enough to provide you with some new clothing and a small bit of spending money should you require it. You do, my dear, need to replace those torn pants.”

  Tyranna blushed. Apparently she had not hid them well enough.

  “I have faith that you will do well at Thales.” Laszlo paused before he continued, his voice lowering and gaining an edge. “Before you leave though, I must inform you that living at Thales will be trying at the best times. There are those who disagree with breeding with humans, and will make their opinions known. As such I’ve taken the liberty of assigning you a guardian at Thales, another student beginning today. I assume, Captain Bushytail, that Samantha will accept the task?”

  “She will be honored, my lord. Though she is many years from taking the oath of the Guard, her loyalty and dedication to you rivals my own.”

  “Then I shall have no reason to worry about this young lady. She is in good paws. I shall personally send a runner to deliver the request immediately. Is she at home today, Alastar?”

  “No, my lord. She was spending the day at a friend’s home.”

  “The little gnome with the . . .?”

  “Yes.”

  “The one who always . . .?”

  “Yes. My lord, that one.”

  “But I thought . . . .”

  “I lost that fight, my lord. She is Samantha’s closest friend. As I mentioned, she is very loyal.”

  “I understand.”

  Gnemo smiled. “My lord,” he politely interrupted. “I believe from the tone of your conversation that the gnome you speak of is my cousin, Gnipper. We’re on our way there after this for a visit. I can bring over any message that you care to send.”

  “Thank you Gnemo, I will prepare it immediately.”

  #

  A half hour walk, a quick stop for some new clothing, and a fabulous dragon-roasted lunch later Tyranna and Gnemo reached a small stone cottage. It stood out from its neighbors in the fact that it had none. On all sides it looked like the foundations for homes had been built but nothing else. It was the only truly sparse area that Tyranna had noticed inside the city walls.

  Looking at the thatched roof, Tyranna saw that it looked brand new, as if it were just put on that morning. In comparison, the rest of the house looked like it was the remnants of an ancient fort. The stonework was scorched repeatedly, with ashy blacks marks scattered across the façade in no particular pattern. The building had just one window with a heavy brown wooden shutter hanging off, threatening to fall to the ground at any moment. But it wasn’t the run down nature of the place that caught Tyranna’s attention. It was the plants.

  To each side of the front entrance was a small rectangular flower garden with the largest tulips Tyranna had ever seen. They were at least four feet from ground to petal, each bulb the size of her head. But that was far from the part that caught Tyranna’s eye. Instead, it was the fact that they were continuously changing color every few seconds, from red to yellow, then orange, before turning back to red. Tyranna had never seen anything remotely like it.

  “How can the flowers do that?” she asked in amazement as she moved in for a closer inspection.

  “Oh that? Gnipper’s father invented that. Something with chemicals and light absorption. He earned an inch for it.”

  “Earned an inch?” she asked, confused.

  “Yeah. Most gnomes are scientists of some sor
t, including myself,” he responded proudly. “When a gnome invents something worthy of respect he can earn himself a pileus, the cone shaped hat like the one I’m wearing on my head right now. Every invention after the first earns you a slightly taller hat, one inch at a time.” He pointed at his own headpiece as an example.

  “Does every gnome get one?” Tyranna asked, intrigued by the idea.

  “Most, but not all. They have to earn it. Gnipper doesn’t have hers yet, but don’t say anything about it. It can be a sensitive subject. Some gnomes can be very mean to those who haven’t earned theirs yet. She keeps trying though, and that’s the most important part.”

  “I understand.”

  Gnemo knocked on the front door.

  “Come in!” came a soft, fluttery voice.

  Gnemo entered and Tyranna followed. Her initial reaction was to scream, turn, and run but she managed to wrestle that feeling down into controllable shock and awe. Everywhere she looked it appeared that a battle had just been fought. Wooden furniture was destroyed and laying everywhere, as if people fell through it from a great height. Dirty dishes and piles of very old fruit were piled up in the middle of the room, insects scurrying to and from the smorgasbord of long forgotten meals. The walls were smeared with strange words and math problems written in what was either red ink or blood, Tyranna couldn’t tell.

  “We’re down in the lab!” yelled the same soft voice.

  Gnemo headed toward a closed door on the right side of the room. He opened it, revealing a dark stone staircase. He headed down. Not wanting to be alone in the disaster area, Tyranna followed closely behind.

  The room she entered took her breath away. Everywhere she looked tables were filled with glass vials, each filled with different colored liquids. Some of those liquids were producing small clouds emanating above them. On another table was a planting station filled with very dead vegetables.