Preston slowly traced his gaze from the book to me, taking especial care to stare at me as fiercely as he could. “Don’t do it Jacob. That thing looks ridiculously dangerous!” He proclaimed, standing up suddenly.
“I am more than capable of handling this,” I assured the both of us in a hollow voice. Preston bit his lower lip and scrunched his entire brow.
“Whatever was in the Winston classroom put up enough of a fight to the point where you needed medical attention. What makes you think a Penelopis is honestly going to be any easier?”
“I don’t think fighting this creature is going to be any easier,” I admitted wearily. “And I don’t blame you for being worried.” I straightened myself up slightly and took another tentative sip of the medicine. “But I made a promise to professor Wenchenberg, and I can’t break it.”
“There are dreams yeah, but this is impossible!” Preston grabbed a fistful of his hair and shook it viciously. “Everyone wants to leave Jacob. Everyone wants to live normal lives. But you just can’t stop tthe tools needed to stop the Grimlars!”
“Preston listen to me,” I growled through clenched teeth. “You said it yourself in the forest, you remember that?” I let loose with a wheezy chuckle and slumped back in my seat. “You said that one day, there would be someone who would be able to stop all this death and blood and war and mage killing. Remember that?”
Preston’s lips withered on the spot as he puckered his mouth. “Well, maybe this guy isn’t even alive yet,” Preston suggested carefully. “Maybe it’s just not the time for the.”
For a while all I could do was drink in deep sobering breaths. “You don’t think I can do it,” I choked, feeling pins and needles prick my entire face. A single laugh, indistinguishable from a sob escaped into the air.
Preston put a hand on my shoulder but I swatted it away almost immediately. “That’s wrong,” he insisted.
“Then why are you scared?”
Preston sighed and looked up to the ceiling as if it could rain. “I’m scared cause I know you’ll do anything to make this dream happen. You’re going to hurt yourself Jacob, I just know it.
I peered into his deep eyes and lifted my lips into a heavy smile. “Please let me do this Preston. I need help. This isn’t something I can face on my own.”
Preston said nothing, and just looked down at his boots in deep thought. Almost unconsciously, he jutted his head forward in a quick nod, before quietly strolling out of the building and carefully closing the door behind him.
“He’s right you know,” Umber called out from behind me. “The fights will only get harder from here on out.”
“Well at least I’ll have you to help me,” I replied, blandly finishing the remainder of the medicine. Umber leered at me.
“Trust me, It’s just as fun for me as it is for you,” he countered sarcastically. “Now when is dinner? I don’t know if you know this mortal, but you are absolutely famished.
Chapter eleven
The Professor’s Plan
Brainthink, Legrun,
Toungetaste,
Heartspeak,
Bodiesdie,
and
Eyecry.
“What did you want me for sir?”
The Professor had cleaned himself up quite a bit within the last few days. His clothes were fresh, his facial hair was trimmed and his smile was beginning to warm. He still had a cold distracted look in his eyes, however today it was hardly visible.
“Keep quiet, and close the door,” he commanded in a soft voice. Moving swiftly within the room, he shut all of the blinds, and pulled out a thick platter, carrying a couple of empty mugs and a bowl of sugar.
“Tea Jacob?” he asked, carefully removing a stunted kettle from the fireplace.
“Yes please.” I sat myself down, accepted a lukewarm mug of flavourless liquid and found myself staring directly into the eyes of professor Wenchenberg. I imagined that I could have gazed at them for hours without being able to properly tell anyone what colour they were. Not quite green but not quite blue, and certainly not brown. It was like they were once colorful ponds that slowly evaporated away, leaving an indescribable shade of who-knows-what.
“Now as you know, we have two days until you compete in semi-finals. What happens during this spare two day gap is the next part of my plan.” The professor quivered slightly and took a small sip of his tea through the small of his teeth. “I will not exaggerate Jacob; this is likely be one of the more dangerous aspects of my little project. So for the sake of your safety we must be prepared.”
“Umber claims he has complete confidence in our abilities,” I murmured without a great deal of enthusiasm. The professor’s face split into a wide smile. He nodded in agreement, before producing a large scroll of parchment from his inner coat pocket.
“I am about to confide seven years worth of heavy research with you. I do this in the hope that you will one day free us both from this place. All I ask of you is that you tell no one.” The yellowed musty paper in his hand was trembling slightly. I could see the wrinkled hand struggling to keep the secret, whatever it was, safeguarded any longer.
“I swear.” I whispered under my breath. The Professor’s grip eased and the paper unrolled into a detailed map of the entire concentration camp. Various illegible notes and shapes were scribbled here and there in dark black ink, however the most prominent of these was a large circle around the entire elder quarters. Castle Lambalatrate was the formal name given to the massive structure which housed the highest members of Grimlar society. Nearly eight stories tall, all of the castle was contained within a large reinforced wall, which obscured about a quarter of the lavish palace. Aside from an occasional whiff from within the kitchens, I knew nothing of what could possible be inside.
“Jacob this camp has been around for a little under a thousand years. Has it ever crossed your mind that these grounds could be hiding something?” Professor Wenchenberg asked while drumming his fingers along the side of the table.
“How do you mean sir?”
“Consider for a moment, what makes a good hiding spot,” the professor said, drawing a small golden coin from his pocket. “You want a spot that is not easily seen.” As he said this, the coin turned translucent before vanishing altogether. The professor clicked his fingers loudly and suddenly, the coin resumed its original state. “And you want a spot that is not easily accessible.” Another finger click, and suddenly a multitude of sharp spikes protruded from the table, enveloping the coin into a small cage.”
Professor Wenchenberg shrugged slightly before lowering the spikes he made and gripping the coin between his thumb and pointer finger. “The concentration camp has both of these qualities. A place that exists on no map, seems to have no entrance or exit, and is guarded by an entire army would make a fantastic safe house would it not?”
“So you’re suggesting something valuable is hidden here?” I asked with wide eyes.
“I wouldn’t be suggesting seeing as I know that it exists.” The professor's breathing suddenly pulsed. His fingers began to stroke the table with an irritation I had never seen in him before. “An object people have only deemed as a mere legend exists within this camp Jacob. Having it in your possession will be the next step in ensuring your survival.”
“What is this object?” I asked, breathlessly bringing myself closer.
“For, now, you only need to know that the object you’re looking for is a necklace with the distortion insignia engraved on it.” The professor retrieved a quill from the far side of his desk, and quickly scribbled a circular shape that looked almost like a ring of sharp teeth.“This is the symbol of distortion abilities. I imagine you might have seen it around in various locations such as the distortion quarters, or on the door for the Montrose.”
“Oh,” I mumbled weakly, feeling utterly ridiculous that I wasn’t able to piece that together myself. “What does this necklace even do?” The professor brought his fingers to his forehead and sighed deeply.
“According to my research, the pendant is capable of distorting one’s sense of fatigue. Many warriors have dreamed of never growing weary in battle and I believe that this artifact is capable of doing just that.”
I spasmed as the leafy tea I was drinking suddenly shot into my lungs. Professor Wenchenberg calmly patted me on the back as I convulsed on the spot for a minute or two.
“No fatigue in battle? Is that even possible?” I asked, wiping away the thick drool from my lower lip.
The features of the professor seemed grow slightly, as his face was submerged into shadow.
“I don’t believe that description is entirely accurate,” he replied carefully. “Basic principles of magic and anti-magic say it’s simply not possible to make or create energy without energy being taken from elsewhere. It’s entirely possible there are traits this necklace has that may be very dangerous. Should you ever find the artifact, under no circumstance are you allowed to put it on.
I nodded quickly. “Does this artifact only work for people with distortion abilities?”
“I don’t believe so,” the professor replied quickly. “Nor do I think that it should affect you any more because you can use distortion anti-magic. Even if I’m wrong, the object I’m asking you to retrieve will still be very dangerous.”
“So this object is hidden in...?”
“The dungeons of Castle Lambalitrate,” The professor responded, causing the ends of my hairs prickled uncomfortably on my arms and face. Professor Wenchenberg cleared his throat, and began to explain in a hurried voice.
“I’m going to be sneaking you into the castle to do three things in no particular order. Firstly, I would like you to sneak into the dungeons to retrieve the artifact I have mentioned. The second thing I request, is for you go examine the office of Caterwaul Lozenge to try to find out why he has agreed to host this competition.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, cutting him off quickly. The professor grimaced.
“I told you awhile ago that the Caterwaul was reluctant to start this competition because he was convinced Orthonus wasn’t even alive. Therefore he must now have definite proof he exists. Why then, doesn’t he send the other elders out to kill him? Why has he agreed with the king’s plan to send out a single Grimlar trainee to do this?”
“You think he has evidence in his office explaining why he’s decided to hold this competition?” I asked dubiously.
“That I do.”
“Why can’t you do these things yourself? Why do you need my help in doing them?” The professor carefully placed his mug on the counter and responded almost instantaneously.
“The Caterwaul has powerful enchantments that will activate if his elders go where he does not want them to go. His dungeons for example. He doesn’t have these enchantments set for the Grimlar trainees. Unlike me, your presence will not set off his alarms.”
“I understand.” I mumbled quietly. “What’s the last thing you want me to do in the castle?” The professor sniffed, and uncertainly fumbled with his moustache whiskers.
“I do not mean this last task as an order, but rather an invitation. Castle Lambalatrate does have quite an extensive library filled with many books that may or may not be of great service to you.” The Professor shrugged slightly. “Entirely up to you to pay a visit though.”
The professor was asking me to search for the last book he had recommended, I realized wearily. I would have laughed, had the occasion not been so somber.
“And this is taking place when?” I asked with a sneaking suspicion I already knew the answer.
“Tonight.”
As the professor answered, I cursed silently under my breath.
Professor Wenchenberg reached into his coat pocket and withdrew two violet silk sacks. He opened both of them and let me examine what looked like indigo coloured bath beads. “These are objects of my own creation. I call them ‘Bearing Bombs.’ Don’t ask how I made them, but I will tell you that they required a large amount of dilladum leaves.
“What do they do?” I asked, bringing one of them up to sniff. The repulsive smell of rancid lavender and rotten eggs caused me to throw the bomb back into the back and gag.
“You need two bath sized bodies of water for these to work. Say I have a tub of water in here, and I drop a bomb. The bearing bomb would then dissolve, and turn the water purple.” The professor chuckled. “That by itself is not very impressive. But say I had another body of water, and I again dropped a bearing bomb into the other tub. This time, both baths would turn bright green. When this happens, you can put an object into one bath, and have it emerge from the other. The water from both tubs will evaporate as soon as this phenomenon occurs, leaving no trace the transportation ever took place.” The professor paused to catch his breath.
I offered him another cup of tea but he waved me off.
“I will drop one of these bearing bombs into the bath in my private quarters. Likewise, you will go to the trainee baths and use a bearing bomb as well. You will jump in when the liquid goes green, and appear shortly after inside Castle Lambalatrate. From there, we will talk about our next course of action. Do you understand?”
“Yeah... Yeah I think so.” I said breathlessly. Leave it to the professor to think of something completely ingenious. “What happens if I get caught?”
The professor scratched his moustache whiskers in careful consideration. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” he began. “But if you ever need to talk to me, I'll give you this.” From a drawer on his desk, he produced a ring of a poorly cut obsidian, similar to the one on his left hand. “Another one of my creations,” he explained bashfully. “I call these rings ‘fingalinks.’ They allow for communication over great distance to take place. You address the ring as if you were addressing the other person wearing the ring, and you can communicate. Put it on and we’ll try.
The ring felt slightly cold against my finger as if the professor had left it outside for a while. He cleared his throat and raised his hand to his mouth.
“Jacob! Hello! How do you fancy these rings?” A few moments went by before the obsidian mass on my finger suddenly cooled to an unnatural temperature.
“Hello! How do you fancy these rings?” The voice that rang out was exactly like the professor’s, except it sounded maybe a little bit more strained. It was almost as if two of him were talking at once.
“Did it work then?” the professor inquired. I looked up, startled by this question. “Didn't you hear?” He shook his head.
“You were the only one to hear what I was saying. Unless a kinetic Grimlar was directly examining your thoughts, they would never know what was ever going on. If you get into any trouble at any time I’ll ask that you contact me. I will do everything in my power to help you. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.” I said before quickly looking elsewhere.
“Then we had both better be off,” he responded solemnly.
***
Walk-running through the dark musty grounds, I eased my way over to the trainee baths. Much to my surprise they seemed particularly quiet and dark on this day. Perhaps no one wanted to take a bath this cold twilight evening? Cheap wood and shabby tile cluttered the surroundings as I approached the entrance. I rattled the handle, however much to my dismay the door wouldn’t budge. I glanced up, and fixed my gaze onto a quickly written notice posted outside:
“Baths closed due to maintenance”
I peeked around the corner and examined each of the boarded up windows. Entry that way seemed highly unlikely, but I advanced despite myself. With some help from the boulders surrounding the baths, I clambered onto the roof and began looking for any possible opening. Everything appeared sealed up. I brought the fingalink ring to my mouth. “Professor Wenchenberg, the baths are locked, what should I do?” Nearly a minute had passed before I heard a response.
“Jacob you have two options at this point,” the professor’s voice echoed through my head. “You can either try to break into the baths, or sne
ak into the prefect baths. Either way, you must hurry. We don’t have a great deal of time on our hands.” Umber glanced up at me with unconcerned eyes.
“The bath doors are locked from the outside Mortal. Use your distortion anti-magic to unlock the door.” I glared at him suspiciously.
“What makes you think it will be that easy?” Meeting Umber’s demanding gaze, I sighed, and brought my hands to the handle of the door. A small click rang out through the night air as I concentrated my anti-magic onto the lock. I tentatively reached out for the door and slowly opened it. “Oh.” I replied in answer to my own question. Umber chortled loudly as I patiently waited for my embarrassment to die down.
The fifty or so porcelain baths built into the floor were covered in a thick layer of dust. Tucked away to one side of the enclosure were a great number of wooden buckets, as well as a single water pump. I threw one of the pails underneath the faucet and furiously began to siphon. Only three large droplets of water landed into the canister. I tried again many times, however nothing but a pathetic gurgling sound emanated came from the tap. I scrunched my nose, and fixed an irate look at Umber. “Any more bright ideas?”
Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) Page 20
