The Crystal College

by Nathaniel Sullivan

  Reluctantly, she looked to where he was pointing. He was right. A man leaned against an abandoned building, he had a hood pulled over his head, and he dwelled in the shadows, but something about him was oddly familiar. A glimmer of blue caught her eye. “I think it’s someone from the college.”

  Her companion tilted his head, confused, “No one from the college would be out on the streets. Only we’re dumb enough for that.”

  “Unless they were following us,” Nix said, her hand going to the dagger on her belt. Headmaster’s Sagger’s threats came to mind immediately.

  “Do we have to go up to him?” Dobry asked, “Couldn’t we just go around?”

  She shook her head, “The aura goes straight down through the street, I believe it’s going out of the city, but I can’t risk leaving it. If we lose the trail, our only lead is gone. Whoever is in our path, we’ll just have to deal with him.”

  They cautiously continued their walk down the street, and then the figure stood to meet them mid-way. A voice came from underneath the hood, and Nix recognized it as Gevor’s. “Little Nixie and Dobry, walking down the streets alone and defenseless—now isn’t this a sight?” He removed his hood, and she saw gleaming teeth.

  Dobry tilted his head and whispered quickly in Nix’s ear, “Who is he?”

  “Gevor. A classmate of mine. Mystic. A good duelist and a major dick,” she whispered back.

  Gevor seemed to hear her words, even though he was still several paces away. “I am a champion of the college, not a traitor like you two,” he clarified, clicking his tongue as he halted in the middle of the street.

  A shiver shot down Nix’s spine. She recalled Gevor manhandling her at the college, and gazing at her with lustful eyes. “I-I can’t fight him. I’ve seen him duel before. He’s dangerous,” she murmured, terrified to admit it. What kind of leader am I if I can’t even fight my own battles?

  But Dobry did not appear to judge. He held Nix’s shoulder, and gave a reassuring squeeze, then he stepped in front of her.

  He wasn’t much larger than Nix, but his stance was confident. When the scholar spoke, his voice was steady, and his words sure, “And so what are you doing here, self-proclaimed champion of the college?” Despite his youthful face, there was authority in his tone. If his words had fallen on wiser ears, a threat might have been perceived, but Gevor, standing in the distance, only scoffed as he glared at the smaller man.

  “I’m righting wrongs,” there was a slow hiss as the blade at his side was pulled from its sheath. “Two fools wasting college resources seeking a dead man who should have never have been made headmaster in the first place. You’ll not be bringing Nandor back, dead, or alive. Not so long as there are those at the college who still hold on to their standards and dignity.”

  “Sagger,” Dobry spat the name as if it were a foul taste. “You’re attacking us on his orders, aren’t you?”

  Gevor’s smile grew, “I am loyal to my headmaster.”

  “Your first loyalty should be to the grandmaster. And it is with his blessing that we are seeking Nandor. If you attack us, he’ll be the first to hear of it.”

  Gevor took a step forward, and shook his head, “He won’t need to know. These are dangerous times… two weaklings walking the streets of a falling city, why, anyone could be responsible for your deaths, don’t you think?”

  Dobry’s rapier leapt into his right hand. “You think I’m weak? I’ve dueled before, Gevor. Men larger than you. How do you think I became an administrator so quickly?”

  “Administrator,” Gevor shook his head, as if it was a pathetic word. “You are the college bitch-boy, Dobry, nothing more. You clean up, you scamper about and do as your masters say, even if it’s standing at the gates, pretending to be a guard. Ha! If I were you, I wouldn’t be bragging about kissing boots so eagerly. My ambitions are far more than that.”

  Dobry met him in the middle of the street, his face glowing red. “So it’s a duel you wish?”

  “To the death,” Gevor nodded, and then pointed at Nix, “and I’ll deal with her afterwards. She is so pretty, don’t you think? Might take my time…” He winked.

  Suddenly, there was a clash of steel. Nix had never seen a man move so quickly before.

  The moment Gevor had finished his sentence, Dobry unleashed a volley of attacks both high and low, his rapier dancing and waving as if a shimmering slice of silver rope. Stumbling, Gevor managed to deflect and avoid each swing, but his threats and poise had faded in an instant.

  “You don’t threaten me! You don’t threaten girls! You maggot!” Dobry roared as he pressed the attack, but it was not a true roar. His high-pitched voice made it more of a threatening squelch, but even if Gevor had noticed the squeak, he was in no position to counter.

  Dobry leapt forward and forward again, poking and thrusting with unsurmountable speed. Gevor’s eyes were wide with panic, and he retreated rapidly down the street, barely parrying each blow. He had made a grave mistake by underestimating Dobry, and the desperation in his defense was obvious even to Nix.

  Yeah! Get him Dobry! Nix wanted to scream her encouragement, but her heart was still racing too fast for words. She knew how wild and dangerous a duel could be. She had witnessed several in her years at the college. The glitter of steel could cut and slice swiftly, and the tides could turn at any moment.

  But while Gevor was fast, and previously self-assured, he was not nearly as elegant or refined as Dobry. He fought as a man facing his grave. He made desperate, rough swings of his own, but Dobry was too sure-footed for any of the blows to land.

  Dobry made a defining attack low, causing Gevor to leap with both his feet backwards, then, while his opponent was unbalanced, he swiped upwards and cut into Gevor’s shoulder. In an instant, the victor was obvious. If Dobry had wished it, he could have ended the duel there, but instead, he disengaged, and took several swift steps backwards.

  Gevor stood clutching his wounded shoulder, cursing.

  The duelist scholar, gave his opponent a firm look. “If you really want, we can end it now, Gevor. But I don’t wish to kill you. We can be more civil than that. Admit defeat, and go home, and we need never speak of this again.”

  Surprisingly, Gevor did not immediately decline. He paced back an fourth, still clutching his shoulder. “You attacked without warning. You cheated,” he muttered.

  “Outside of the college walls, there is no cheating, Gevor. A lesson you have just learned, no doubt. Now admit defeat or die. Those are your options.” Dobry kept his distance, speaking loudly.

  “I-I-” Gevor fumbled for words, seemingly too prideful and vain to declare Dobry his better. But then, unexpectedly, he dropped his small sword, and growled. “Fine. I admit defeat. You win,” he walked forward, his eyes watering from pain, “Now please… help me with my shoulder. I think it is wounded deeper than I can tend.”

  Dobry looked momentarily stunned. Perhaps, like Nix, he had expected Gevor to fight to the bitter, bloody end. But now, Gevor did not look spiteful, nor angry. He held his bleeding shoulder and fell to his knees. He was vulnerable. Maybe Dobry had struck him harder than he thought. “I’m no healer,” Dobry said, slowly approaching the kneeling figure, “but I suppose I can help you bandage it.” He glanced over at Nix. “You have any spare cloth?”

  Nix kept her gaze leveled on Gevor. He doesn’t deserve any mercy. If she had it her way, they would leave him bleeding on the streets. Why is Dobry being so damned noble?

  Apparently, Dobry was able to read her eyes. “Look, I don’t like him either, but he’s still a fellow of the college. Even if he threatened and attacked us, he deserves another chance. People grow, they change—Nandor taught me that.”

  She still felt uneasy, but Dobry was right. It’s what Nandor would have done. Reluctantly, she shouldered off her pack and shuffled through her supplies for some bandages, but she never fully removed her hateful gaze from Gevor.

  Dobry crouched down, and examined Gevor’s wound. “It doesn’t look to
o bad. I think you’ll be okay,” he held his arm. “Can you move it at all?”

  Gevor nodded, his eyes tightened. “Y-yes. I can move it. You really think it will be okay?”

  “I do.”

  “Good.” From the corner of her eyes, Nix saw a flicker of red and instantly knew that something was wrong. Gevor’s hand suddenly latched onto Dobry, and his eyes darted from the ground up, facing him with a fire. “You fool! I will not admit defeat, scholar,” he spat, his eyes glowing red.

  It took a half second before Nix could fully understand what was happening. A maddened look overcame Dobry, but then, instead of attacking, he clutched his head, and collapsed on the ground, his rapier clattering uselessly against the stone streets.

  Gevor panted heavily, and slowly stood to his feet. He seized Dobry’s sword, and lowered it down to the scholars limp body. “That’s the thing about scholars… such vulnerable minds…” he coughed out a laugh, looming over Dobry.

  “What have you done?” Nix rushed over to his side.

  “It’s as Dobry said—” Gevor grinned, looking down at them both, “—there is no cheating outside the college walls. I implanted a mental connection to him the moment he touched me. Made a few… adjustments to his mind. Wasn’t even that hard to do. Seems our little friend here is filled with self-doubt.”

  Without thinking, Nix lunged with her dagger. Gevor gasped out in surprise, but side-stepped the thrust at the last moment. Then he spun around and backhanded her to the ground. She hit the street hard, and cried out in pain. “Stay down, girl. It will all be over quickly.” He made a flick with his wrist, and his sword cut deep into Dobry’s throat.

  Deep, eager red blood poured from Dobry. He gulped and wheezed as he squirmed on the ground, his mind was broken and his throat was cut. Unable to get a breath, he instinctively choked as blood gargled to his lips.

  “Oh!” Gevor grinned as he watched the scholar wriggle against the ground. “Looks like I struck a nerve!”

  Dobry! Blind hatred overcame Nix. Such hatred as she had only known once before. Lady Mikja’s longsword found its way into her hands, and she stood up, “You… you killed him…” she could hardly believe her own words. Dobry was her protector. He was a good man. It wasn’t even his fault—he had wanted to avoid the fight… he couldn’t be dead… but he was. Dead at the hands of a degenerate mystic.

  Consciously, she knew she could not beat Gevor. But it didn’t matter. She faced him with her steel, ready to die. Nandor, now Dobry… would it be so bad to join them?

  “Girl—please don’t be brash. I understand. You’re angry. But I strongly advise you put down your sword before you get yourself hurt. I could make use of you. You don’t have to die like him.”

  “I’d rather join the dead than live in a world with someone like you!” She charged in blind rage, her sword held up.

  Gevor danced to the side, and kicked her as she stumbled. A flicker of glimmering steel cut her once, and then twice. She cried out in pain, and thoughtlessly swung her sword backwards. It met empty air, and she was greeted with another slice across her hand.

  Mikja’s sword fell from her grip.

  Then she collapsed, as the weight of Gevor’s body fell upon her. He had discarded his sword in favor of his fists, and he swung swift strikes into her torso and midsection until she was nearly limp underneath his hold. But still she struggled. She fought for all she was worth, kicking, scratching, biting, even, if the chance arose.

  “Stupid twit! Stop making this so difficult!” He struck her again, this time harder.

  She lost vision, and the world turned cloudy. When she could open her eyes again, she saw Gevor panting over her, struggling to regain his breath. Why doesn’t he just kill me?

  She did not wish to know. All she knew was she had to fight, but her arms wouldn’t move. He had them both in a firm grip, and he was too strong. “Now,” he panted, “now, finally, we get some alone time, you and I. Sagger wished for me to kill you both, see—so that Nandor’s ways would be entirely forgotten. However, I am no slave. Someday, I plan to replace Sagger. But today, I think I can indulge myself in a bit of fun…” He glanced over at Dobry’s body. “I think I’ve earned it, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Just kill me! Get it over with!” She managed to spit.

  “But I think you are so much more fun alive!” Gevor laughed, “If you’ll just let me bind and tie you, I think this will be much easier for the both of us.”

  In a surge of panic, she further squirmed underneath his grip. Her struggle was met with another dizzying hit to the waist. She lost her breath, and choked for air. Tears rushed to her eyes and the world became blurry. Gevor was fussing with a rope around his belt, eager to restrain her.

  Her thoughts went to Dobry, the college, and the hopelessness of her task. The healer had been right. She was being a fool with a death wish. Dobry should have never joined her.

  “There you go—good girl! Relax. This will all be over soon…” She felt a rope go over one of her wrists, and then the other.

  A dark shadow blotched out the sun, and she managed to look upwards. A grizzled man stood above them both. He was large, shaggy, and powerful looking.

  Nandor… it can’t be!

  Sensing something was wrong, Gevor glanced over his shoulder. His eyes widened. “Wai—”

  WAM!

  A wooden object slammed into Gevor and broke across his head. He was tossed hard and landed several feet away. A large hand reached downwards, and Nix took it.

  “Come, girl. We must get away from this place,” the voice from the grizzled man boomed. It sounded almost like Nandor, but it was… different.

  “Who are you?”

  “A friend. Let’s get moving.”

  She didn’t have to be told twice.

  Chapter 12: The Aspiring Electrician

  Even the most foolish of people can blindly stumble upon golden nuggets of truth. Discard nothing. Listen to everyone. There is always something to learn. Even from the evil. Dissect the lies and the wrongdoings from the good, sift out the bad, and extract what remains. The best mindset is built upon not only those who are holy and successful, but the unsuccessful as well, and the murders, and the thieves. All paths of life have lessons to learn from. Some more than others, but still, ignore nothing.

  —The Book of Marr

  The first thing Nix did was retrieve Lady Mikja’s longsword. “I have to kill him,” she hissed.

  “No time, the streets aren’t safe!” the large man protested.

  “He killed Dobry! He deserves to die!” She knew she would never set things right, but the least she could do was avenge her friend. She rushed over to Gevor, but he had already started to rise. Before she could swing, he stumbled to his feet, glanced over at her, and ran. “Damn you, Gevor!” she screamed.

  She began to run after him, but the large man seized her hand. “Let him go. We can deal with him later. You’re too wounded to catch him anyway.”

  She looked down, and realized he was right. Her hand, leg, and arm were cut, and she had taken so many blows to the midsection that even standing was painful. She felt like she was going to hurl.

  “You are seeking Nandor, aren’t you?” the large man asked as he began to pull her down the street.

  “I was… I mean I am. Yes,” she fumbled out her reply. “Why do you care?”

  “Nandor was a friend of mine at the college. One of the few good people there. I heard he was missing, and that a girl was asking questions. I was cleaning a room when I overheard the Mystic Headmaster Sagger giving Gevor his mission to stop you and Dobry, and then I set out to confront him when he left the college. I’m sorry I was too late to save your friend.”

  Cleaning a room… Too much had happened too fast. She glanced at the man again. He looked familiar for more than one reason. It was more than just his grizzled appearance that was eerily reminiscent of Nandor. “You’re the janitor, aren’t you?”

  “Janitor Barhall,” he nodded.
“But I’m training to be an electrician.”

  “Where are you taking me?” She fumbled around her pack to make sure she still had the aura detecting goggles.

  “To a safe place. My apartment. It’s not too far.”

  “But I can’t lose Nandor’s trail!”

  Barhall turned and gave her a strange look. “What trail?”

  “I was following his aura!”

  He paused in the middle of the street, and released her hand. “Wait. So Nandor is truly still alive?”

  She either shook her head or nodded. She was not sure which. “It’s possible. His body disappeared from the healer’s home, but he was still alive before he vanished. Dobry and I… we were following his aura in the hopes that he might still be alive.”

  The janitor seemed to dwell on this news for some time. His brows furrowed considerably, and then he looked to Nix. “Are your cuts deep?”

  She felt a stinging sensation on her hand—it was the most painful wound, but she found that she could still open and close her hand. The cut had been a quick, sudden strike, and it had caused her to drop her weapon in surprise, but it was not debilitating. She felt her leg and arm and found the same. Swift cuts, but shallow. The rapier Gevor had used was far better designed for piercing than slicing. Perhaps the shallow cuts had even been intentional. Her blind swings with Lady Mikja’s sword were likely easy for a skilled duelist to avoid.

  “Not too deep,” she replied.

  “Do you have bandages?”

  “A few.”

  He grabbed her hand again and pulled her into a side alley. Steam shot from unstructured pipes, obscuring their vision. “Should be safe here. Let’s bandage what we can.”

  It was not a cold day in the city. The steam-powered gears from below the underworks made it almost warm enough to milt snow, but she still felt the cold when she discarded her upper layers of clothes to properly tend her wounds. Barhall did not appear the slightest bit uncomfortable to see her bared skin, and he helped as best as he could, particularly with her leg, which was cut on the back and hard for her to see. When they were finished, she dressed quickly, and regained her breath.