The Crystal College

by Nathaniel Sullivan

  Nix took an extra moment. “Oh. I think I do.” She nodded so that Nandor could see, “But Dorin’s right. It’s like he’s trying to stay hidden. It’s the hooded figure, just off to the side. You see him?”

  At last, he did, “Yes.”

  “What should we do?” the girl asked.

  “Go confront him of course!” Dorin nearly burst from its chair. “Is that not what we’re here for?”

  Nandor waited a second, observing, but not speaking. While he did, Nix replied, “But I thought the plan was to have him confront us!”

  “Plans change!”

  “Quiet,” Nandor suddenly bade them both. “Something is clearly wrong. See the way he walks?”

  Dorin and Nix glanced back to the hooded figure. The bot saw what Nandor was saying—there was a slight limp as Gevor moved, and he crouched low, as if his back was too hurt to stand up straight.

  “There’s nothing wrong—he’s just a fearful coward—or trying to spy on us!” Nix said.

  Inwardly, Dorin disagreed. There was clearly something physically wrong with the figure’s movements, but it didn’t want to be the one to burst their bubble. “I say we go and face him—continue on with the plan! If he is wounded than that will only make our kill all the easier!”

  “What if he runs?”

  “Then we chase him!”

  Nandor sighed, and took a long swig from his mug of water. “Fine,” he stood from his chair. “Stay close.”

  Nix and Dorin flanked him at either side as they walked, whispering nervously. “Should we keep up the act?” The girl looked upwards. “Try to get him to attack?”

  Dorin was about to say that she should, but Nandor muttered back first, “No, no point. If he’s trying to hide, then I doubt if we’ll be able to provoke him into an attack.”

  “So what are we going to do then?”

  “Play it by ear,” Nandor offered with a shrug. “If I have to be the one to initiate the duel, then I’ll do what I must.”

  “But i-if you can’t fight with small swords…” her words broke apart. “I-I just don’t want to see you fighting against the odds. Not again.”

  “It’ll be okay, Nix,” he reassured her. “I may not be the best at fencing weapons, but I can still hold my own. One way or another we’ll get our vengeance. Dobry deserves that much.”

  They walked swiftly to the edge of the crowd, and the hooded figure kept to himself, his face still covered as he ate alone. He barely had time to look up as Nandor descended upon him, and slapped the sandwich from his hand. “You. You murdered Dobry.”

  A few paces behind, Dorin chuckled, and muttered under its breath, “So we’re not going for subtlety, eh?”

  The man gasped as the sandwich fell from him, then he looked up at Nandor with anger. “What? Who are you?”

  “Who I am is of little importance, fool. It is your own life that has become forfeit. Reveal yourself!” Nandor demanded, looming over him with clenched fists.

  The figure glanced to the side of Nandor, and saw Nix. “Wait—you’re with her? Oh—oh no!” He turned to run, but Nandor was ready. He grabbed the backside of Gevor’s tunic, and tossed him to the ground with a mighty grunt.

  “You’ll pay for what you did to Dobry!” he yelled.

  The man cried out, and the hood fell from his face as his back struck the ground. He lay sprawled at their mercy.

  Nix gasped, and even Dorin became a little unsettled. The man was Gevor, all right, but it wasn’t the Gevor Nix had described. This Gevor was bruised, bloodied, and tortured. His lips were split from where he had received a terrible blow, he was missing at least a tooth or two, and his brow was deformed, as if it had been crumbled from too much pressure. His left eye was darkened from bruises, and his right was inflated so badly it could scarcely open. His ears were reddened, his nose twisted and broken, and his hairline had several splits in it where skin had been forced to part. Dorin could only see Gevor’s face, but the rest of him, presumably, was just as bad. The way he lay on the ground suggested that he could not find a place to lie without feeling sharp twinges of pain, and he clutched his ribs as if they had all been broken or cracked.

  Nandor’s eyes widened. “I-I don’t understand. You are Gevor?”

  The man at their feet did not speak, he was in too much pain. Nix scarcely nodded, “That is Gevor, but I have no idea what happened to him.”

  At their back, a crowd was forming. Dorin tugged at Nandor’s sleeve. “Perhaps we should take him somewhere a little more… discrete, sir?” It gestured from the onlookers to the damaged man.

  He grunted, and bent down. Gevor tried to fight, but was far too damaged, and his hands only flopped about uselessly as Nandor threw him over his shoulder. “Nix, Dorin, stay with me.” He turned to the crowd. “This man killed my friend.” He bumped Gevor, “It appears someone has tortured him. I go to find out who did it, and end this madness. While I am around, I’ll tolerate no more senseless killings and secret schemes.” He spun around, and carried his foe out of the tent.

  “Where is the nearest shelter?” he roared.

  “The lower library—come,” Nix led the way.

  The storm was in full blow. Wind blew so loudly that it was hard to hear, and snow streaked from the sky in heavy sheets. Lightning struck from cloud to cloud, erupting in roars that echoed down the mountain. The college streets were growing white with snow, and not a single soul was foolish enough to stand in the open.

  Nandor carried Gevor easily—the wounded man had clearly given up all desire to struggle, either mentally, or physically, and so he simply lay limp over his shoulder. The companions weaved along the sides of the crystal buildings, and Nix nudged open the first door that came into view.

  Wind hissed as it swept into the opening, and Nandor tossed Gevor inside, then closed the door behind them. The man cried out in pain as he landed hard on the stone floor, but Nandor ignored him, and looked to his companions. “Any idea what happened to him?”

  Nix shrugged, her puzzlement plain on her face. Dorin did not have an answer either. It scanned the empty hallway, trying to imagine the person who had done such a thing. “My masters used to shock me as punishment,” it said, then pointed downward at Gevor. “Perhaps this is the same?”

  Nandor frowned. “You said he was working on Sagger’s orders, right?”

  “Well—” She hesitated as she kept her head lowered on the bloody figure. “Yes—Barhall said he overheard Sagger give Gevor his orders, but that doesn’t make him innocent!” She threw her hand down. “Don’t tell me you’re actually feeling sorry for this terrible man!”

  “No, I’m not,” Nandor said. “But, at the same time… I can hardly duel him either. He’s not fit to even hold a sword, let alone swing one.”

  Gevor grunted, and slowly climbed to his feet, using the wall to support himself.

  “What happened to you, boy?” Nandor asked. “Nix tells me you killed Dobry and tried to rape her. My instinct is to kill you, but something tells me you have a story of your own to tell. What happened? Why are you so wounded?”

  Gevor panted as he stood, and his face looked even worse in the moonstone-lit hallway. “S-S-Sagger…” he managed to mutter. “Sagger…”

  “Your master did this to you?”

  Dorin wasn’t surprised. If I was made of flesh and blood, my masters would have likely done far worse to me, at times.

  “Y-yes…” he leaned heavily on his knees. “Wh-when you returned…” He nodded faintly towards Nix. “He knew I failed my mission. He knew I did not kill you, and that angered him. But when he heard that you were back…” it was clear now that he meant Nandor, “My master became enraged. He attacked without warning. Striking me with his staff… over… and over…” He shuddered, and collapsed in a ball at their feet.

  “Pitiful creature,” Dorin spat, and gave him a light kick.

  Nandor pushed Dorin back, and gave a disapproving glare. “Don’t strike a man when he’s down, Dorin. You should
know better.”

  “It’s clearly just a sob story, sir!” it protested.

  Nix nodded, “He killed Dobry—it doesn’t matter what things his master did to him, he’s still a terrible man! He deserves everything he got and more!”

  Nandor appeared to ponder this for a while, gazing over the bloody figure. The beating Gevor had received looked so bad that he would never fully recover. He might have once been a handsome man, but no more. Sagger’s work was thorough. “Your master did all this to you, just because he was angry?” The bafflement in Nandor’s tone was apparent. “Why would you serve such a man? Why become his apprentice?”

  Gevor slowly uncurled from his knees, and whimpered, “I h-had no choice, sir. I am poor. W-without someone to endorse me, and support me, I wouldn’t even be able to stay at the college. I need him.”

  “Liar!” Nix growled. “He’s trying to make you think he’s the victim—he’s not! He’s a foul man! He’s tormented me endlessly! He would have raped me if Barhall had not shown up!”

  “Is this true?”

  Gevor quickly shook his head. “I wasn’t going to rape her. No—no sir. You may think me a foul man, but I would never rape a woman.” A flicker of a smile appeared on his damaged lips, showing a shade of his former self. “Where would the fun be in that? Any man can rape. I never wished to have you against your will. I might have wanted to persuade you a little…” His eyes darted briefly to Nix, then back to Nandor. “But in that moment, I only wished to bind and capture you, so that Sagger would not know that you were still alive.”

  “Little difference,” Nix said.

  “But it is a difference,” Gevor muttered hastily crawling upwards and pleading with his eyes, “I only killed on Sagger’s orders. I never had any problems with Dobry—why would I want to kill him? And you—I only wanted to persuade you to my side. Remember what I said in the common grounds? I thought that if I had enough alone time with you I could make you see that we have to stick together. Especially with Froj in chaos, and food shortages soon to follow. I wanted us to be a couple, yes, but not unwilling. I thought you would see that Nandor was a lost cause, and that we have to turn to other methods to survive—even if it means sucking up to men like Headmaster Sagger.”

  “You killed Dobry and thought that I would learn to love you? What kind of twisted brain do you have?” She demanded, and tossed her hands up into the air.

  “It’s not my brain that’s twisted—it’s just what I’ve had to do. You think I like working for Sagger? You think I would have chosen to be his apprentice? Not all of us have earned the favor of the Grandmaster as easily as you have. The rest of us without money have to do what we have to do. We’re not afforded the luxury of an easy choice.”

  As they spoke, Dorin watched Nandor’s head turn from Gevor to Nix, deep in doubt. This is not what the heroic nomad expected to encounter, Dorin realized. He wanted to find a foul, prideful man who he could kill without hesitation. Now that he sees Gevor as a poor boy, wounded and desperate, he’s unsure. Dorin sighed, why does Nandor persist on such petty moral dilemmas? I thought he would have learned by now! Have all my efforts been for naught? Will he always be the same fool that tried to stop a war, or will he ever learn that some men need to die for the better of all?

  “Just kill him, Nandor. He is clearly beyond any hope of redemption.” Dorin finally voiced his opinion out loud.

  Gevor’s eyes widened in terror, but Nandor shook his head. “What honor is there in killing a man who’s defenseless and suffering?”

  “Since when did you care about honor?”

  Nandor shrugged, “Without Marr, I have to have something to guide me. I say honor—perhaps I mean conscious—I don’t know. All I know is I cannot kill this man.”

  “But what about revenge? Justice? He deserves to die!”

  “If you kill the puppet, but not the puppet master, then what good have you truly done? Will not the puppet master simply grab another puppet to do its bidding?”

  “What?”

  “I’m saying that this man—” he pointed downwards, “isn’t our true foe. Sagger is the man who ordered Dobry’s death, and so Sagger is the man that needs to pay. This poor fool simply served the wrong master. I certainly wish him no joy for what he’s done, but I can’t kill him either.”

  “Root cause,” Nix huffed, shaking her head as if trying to fling away a stray memory. “I see what you mean, but that doesn’t mean I agree with you. They’re both monsters. Gevor and Sagger—nothing will change that but death.”

  “You want him dead?” Nandor spun on her, his eyebrows intense, as if daring her to make good on her words. “You’ve got a longsword on your back. I doubt he’ll put up much of a fight.” He waved an indifferent hand over Gevor. “Go ahead. I’ll not stop you. Do as you think you must.” A tear formed as Nix faced Nandor, then, she slowly shouldered off Lady Mikja’s longsword and pulled it from its scabbard. At their feet Gevor scampered into a ball, huddled against the wall and bumbling pleads for mercy.

  “Fine. I am capable of handling my own revenge,” She lowered her blade, leveling it with Gevor. “How was it you killed Dobry?” she demanded.

  Gevor cried out as the blade poked him. “P-p-please! I-I was only doing what I was told!”

  “You don’t remember? Then let me remind you: You had lost the duel. You were pleading for mercy, just like you are now. You begged him to help you. Then, when he was tending to your shallow wound, you attacked like a coward. You assaulted his mind with twisted magic and then you cut his throat. You are the most cowardly liar that has ever graced the college. And now you expect me to suddenly believe you? Because you have a sad story to tell? Dorin is right. I know better by now.”

  Nix drew up Mikja’s sword, and held it over her head with both hands. “Please!” Gevor cried once more. “I had no choice! No choice! You see what Sagger’s done to me! It would have been worse if I had failed completely. If I hadn’t killed Dobry, I would have been beaten to death! I had to lie! I had to fight dirty! I had no choice!” Nixie hesitated, holding the deadly sword in a death grip. That moment of reluctance was all Gevor needed.

  He crawled back to his knees, and clasped his hands together. “Please. I know I have done terrible things. I know it. I know I’ve treated you poorly. Sagger is the only man I’ve ever been able to follow. His words are all I know. But I can change. I swear it. I swear it upon my dead mother’s soul—the only person who’s ever shown me any kindness. Grant me one more chance, and I swear I will never bother you again. I know I can never fix what I’ve done, but please, just give me a chance to try.”

  Mikja’s sword wavered uncertainly in the air. More tears formed in Nixie’s eyes. Won’t someone just kill him already? Dorin disinterestedly thought, pressing its metallic hand to the side of its head in boredom. But, unfortunately, killing seemed to be the last thing on its companion’s minds. Nix barely kept her sword from falling to the ground, and suddenly, Nandor stood between them.

  “Girl,” he pushed the blade away from her with his hands. “Don’t force yourself to do something your uncertain of.”

  “B-but he deserves it. He deserves to die.” Water fell from her cheeks, and Nandor brushed the tears away.

  “He may deserve to die, sweet girl. He may even be lying to us right now. But if your heart is not ready to take a life—to take on the burden that maybe, just maybe he’s telling the truth, then you should not kill him. Not now.”

  “I thought—I thought that you had changed, after we brought you back. That you would kill him for me. Avenge Dobry, and spare me this terrible decision…” She sniffed as she looked up at Nandor. “But I’m glad you haven’t.” Her sword clattered to the ground, and she embraced him in a hug.

  Dorin sighed, and picked up the sword while they embraced. It looked downward at Gevor. “If it were up to me, you would be dead,” it whispered just low enough for him to hear.

  Gevor whimpered again, and huddled tighter. It raised an eyebrow.
Perhaps he wasn’t lying. Perhaps he was just a man serving the wrong master due to bad circumstances. But in reality, that didn’t change much. If a terrible monster raises an innocent babe and turns it into another terrible monster as result, then shouldn’t they both be killed?

  The bot darkly shook its head. “Mark my words, you are going to regret sparing him.”

  “Maybe,” Nandor did not bother to argue. “But that is a risk we are just going to have to take.”

  “Just remember—I warned you. When the day comes that you regret your kindness, don’t be saying that I didn’t tell you better. One of these days you’re going to have to embrace the truth, Nandor. I’m just trying to help.”

  “And I appreciate your advice.” The large man gently pushed Nix away, then he crouched low to face Gevor. “You,” he growled. “Do you know where your master is?”

  The maimed boy managed a faint mumble. “Y-yes sir. He will be in his tower. The mystic tower, that is. His room is at the top.”

  “Do you think he will accept a challenge to a duel?”

  “N-no sir. I don’t. He knows you are back, and he knows you hold a grudge against him. I think he will be preparing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Spells. Traps. Enchantments. Headmaster Sagger isn’t the only one who dreaded your return to the college. Headmistress Lareja is angered as well, and I believe they intend on coaxing you into Sagger’s tower, where they will spring their attack.”

  Dorin exchanged a glance with its companions. “Magical traps?”

  Nandor ignored its gaze, and remained level with Gevor. “Do you know how they intend on luring me?”

  Gevor glanced aside, perhaps in shame? “Your jeweled skis. They’ve tasked me with stealing them, and leaving a note saying that they wish to meet with you. Then, when you arrive, they would attack.”

  “Why would they steal skis to trick him?” Dorin whispered at Nix’s side. “They’re not that expensive.”

  “His are,” she softly replied. “They have powered crystals in them, one-of-a-kind. Men have killed over less before.”