Just before impact, Anne hauled Penelope behind a tree. The fireball exploded in the middle of the clearing and sent a cloud of smoke and dust rolling past them. Anne snatched a knobby stick off the ground and held it in her gauntlet-hand; any weapon was better protection than none. A woman stepped forth from the thick smoke, spotted Anne, and walked over.
Anne blinked, disbelieving she was really seeing what her eyes told her she was seeing.
“Wherever have you been, my dear?” said Jocelyn, sounding somewhat annoyed. “This delay has put everything behind schedule.” She flipped open a small notebook. “We’ve missed the opening ceremonies, the Getting to Know You luncheon, the academy tour, everything.”
Anne needed two or three tries before she was able to speak actual words. “Y-you’re alive.”
Jocelyn frowned. “That’s a rather odd thing to say.”
Anne shook her head. “But—but this morning. That dragon torched you with a fireball.”
Jocelyn laughed. “Well, of course she did. I believe you’ve been referring to her as Dog, yes? Nana, come out now, don’t be shy. Come and say hello.”
Anne looked around. “You found Dog?”
A black form emerged from the smoke—a large black “something” that was all too familiar.
“Dragon!” yelled Anne, throwing her stick with all her might. It soared through the air in a perfect arc, struck the dragon’s thick scales, and bounced harmlessly away over the edge of the tier.
The dragon lowered its head until its large reptilian eyes stared directly into Anne’s. “You’re new at this,” it rumbled in a deep, gravelly voice, “so I’m going to overlook that.”
“Wow,” said Penelope. “Dog got real big.”
Anne shook her head vigorously. “You can’t be Dog. That’s impossible.”
“Nana is a Phantom dragon,” Jocelyn explained. “They can change their size and appearance. She only disguised herself as your fire lizard so she could assess the situation prior to my arrival.”
“You—you were spying on us?”
“Assessing, dear. Nana is the academy’s dragon. She’s here to help.”
Anne stepped back, not taking her eyes off the dragon. “But she attacked me with a fireball.”
“And you’d be a lot easier to hit if you stood still,” grumbled Nana. “It’s hard to mount a rescue when you run away like that.”
“That was a rescue?”
“Naturally. You want to leave the orphanage, don’t you?”
“But you nearly incinerated me!”
“Nonsense,” said Nana. “At most you would have gotten a little singed around the edges. Or maybe a nice tan.”
“Fireballs are a common form of transportation,” Jocelyn explained. “Green ones, that is. Not the red.”
“What’s wrong with red fireballs?” asked Anne.
“Red means dead,” said Nana.
“It’s the best way to reach these more outlying areas without it taking forever,” said Jocelyn. “Saint Lupin’s is not exactly on the central tiers, you know. Still, personally I only use them when absolutely necessary. It takes me days to clean the sulfur smell out of my clothes. No offense,” she added to Nana.
“None taken,” growled Nana. “I make them smell that way on purpose. Consider it payback for forcing me to wear a dog collar.”
“But if you’re not Dog, then where is he?” asked Anne. “You… you didn’t eat him, did you?”
Nana grinned, and her giant teeth glistened in the moonlight. “Maybe I did. Goodness knows I get paid little enough for everything I do around here. A tasty fire lizard steak would really hit the spot.”
Anne gasped.
“Now stop that,” Jocelyn scolded Nana. “I assure you, Anne, your fire lizard is perfectly safe back at the academy. We’ll return him as soon as possible.”
A distant crashing echoed through the forest, accompanied by the sound of approaching footsteps. Very heavy footsteps.
“Were you expecting company?” asked Jocelyn.
Anne gripped Penelope’s arm. “It must be the Matron and her iron knights. We’re, ah, sort of in the middle of escaping.”
“Understood,” said Jocelyn. She turned to Nana. “Three fireballs, if you please.”
“Wait a minute,” said Anne, “by fireballs do you mean—”
But it was too late. Nana reared back, opened her mouth wide, and belched flame.
FROM THE FIREBALL TRAVEL INCORPORATED FAQ:
While the concept of traveling by fireball understandably raises a lot of eyebrows (or at least those that haven’t been scorched off), it has been certified by Fireball Travel Incorporated as being “absolutely safe.” The fact that Fireball Travel Incorporated also has a monopoly on the dictionary industry and has redefined the word safe to mean “extremely dangerous and in fact likely to cause grievous and lasting bodily harm” should in no way be considered a conflict of interest (conflict of interest having been redefined to mean “giant potato”).
Welcome to Death Mountain
Anne couldn’t be certain whether she screamed the entire trip. Granted, it is extremely difficult to hear anything above the deafening roar inside a fireball, even the sound of your own voice shrieking in horror.
The last flames dissipated, and Anne found herself staring at a mountain—staring down at a mountain, that is, which is an unsettling feeling even if you haven’t just traveled an unknown distance inside a blazing sphere of destruction. Dozens of buildings dotted the mountainside, connected via winding paths and steep staircases, all sitting in the shadow of a large shelf of overhanging rock at the mountain peak. When Anne examined her immediate surroundings, she discovered she was standing atop a small floating island roughly a hundred feet in diameter. At the center of this island, a giant metal ring stuck out of the ground with a giant metal chain attached to it. The chain extended over the side and disappeared into the mists below, presumably tethering the tiny tier in place.
Two more fireballs landed next to Anne, depositing Penelope and Jocelyn.
Penelope pumped her fist in the air. “That. Was. Awesome!”
Anne touched the spot on Penelope’s forehead where she had struck the bridge. There wasn’t even so much as a bruise showing. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Great,” said Penelope. “Although I don’t know how. A moment ago I was still seeing two of everything.”
“Fireballs have healing properties,” said Nana behind them.
Anne jumped in surprise. She hadn’t seen Nana arrive. “How did you get here?”
“I flew here right after I sent you on your way. Eight hours ago.”
“Eight hours?” For the first time Anne took note of the early-morning sun; they had left Saint Lupin’s not long after midnight. “But it only felt like a minute or two.”
“That’s due to the time-compression feature,” said Jocelyn. “Because honestly, who wants to experience that amount of time inside a fireball? Premium fireballs are nearly instantaneous, of course, and dragons themselves can travel at supersonic speeds, but the travel time for all regular fireballs is set at eight hours.”
“All fireballs?” said Penelope. “That seems a bit arbitrary.”
“Oh, it is. Completely. It’s even in the dragons’ contract under the section titled All the Arbitrary Things Dragons Get to Do That Annoy People.”
Nana yawned. “As interesting as all of this isn’t, I’m long overdue for a break. So if you’ll pardon me, not that I would care if you didn’t, I’m off to eat a herd of sheep and nap for a month. Enjoy your studies.” With that, she dropped off the edge of the tethered tier and swooped away.
Penelope looked at Anne and grinned. “Well, we made it.”
Anne took a big breath and exhaled. It was true. Despite the perilous circumstances of their escape, they were finally free of Saint Lupin’s and of the Matron as well. Not only had they avoided the Pit, but they had made it to an honest-to-goodness academy. She could go on adventur
es. She could search for home. A wide grin spread across her face.
Jocelyn gestured to the mountain with a sweep of her arm. “Welcome to the Death Mountain Quest Academy.”
“Thank you,” said Anne. “But, erm, it’s called Death Mountain?”
“Oh, did I not mention that?” Jocelyn gave an embarrassed cough. “It’s a tradition of sorts. Each academy is named after the nearest landmark of note. It could be worse, though. Before it moved here it was the Stinky Gas Swamp Academy. In any case, after some breakfast, I’ll give you the grand tour. This small tier we’re currently standing on, incidentally, is the designated fireball landing zone.”
As she took it all in, Anne held up her arm to shield her eyes from the morning sun. It was strange and intriguing and beautiful all at once.
Jocelyn gasped. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” asked Anne, looking around.
“That light on your gauntlet.”
Anne lowered her arm. The medallion was pulsing. “That’s weird. It wasn’t doing that before.”
Jocelyn grabbed the gauntlet and yanked it forward, nearly pulling Anne off her feet. “But where… where did you… how did you get this medallion?”
“Th-the gauntlet took it,” said Anne.
Jocelyn shook the gauntlet. “Took it? I don’t understand.”
“In the Matron’s office. When the clock struck midnight. All the medallions started vibrating and then this one attached itself.”
“You mean you picked up this medallion and inserted it into the slot?”
“No, it flew across the room on its own.”
Jocelyn released Anne’s arm and began pacing while muttering to herself. “Unbelievable… never heard of… who leaves one out in the open like that anyway… need to consult with…”
“I’m sorry if I’ve caused any trouble,” said Anne. “I didn’t know that would happen.”
Jocelyn shook her head. “It’s not your fault, dear. It’s mine. I never should have left you unsupervised with that gauntlet.” She stopped pacing. “What has the GPS told you so far?”
Anne raised an eyebrow. “Er, GPS?”
“It stands for General Pathfinder Sparrow,” Jocelyn explained.
“I did see a little rainbow sparrow, just for a few seconds,” said Anne, recalling the brightly colored bird.
“Yes, that’s it. Each gauntlet contains a sparrow who interprets the prophecy medallions.”
Anne stared at the medallion. “Did you say prophecy?”
“Of course. Anyone may go on a run-of-the-mill quest,” said Jocelyn. “All you need is a one-year Adventurer’s Certificate. But only a gauntlet-wearer can trigger a prophecy quest.”
“Wait. Are you saying this medallion might have triggered something?” said Anne.
“That’s what we’re trying to determine. Now, please try the sparrow. Just say ‘Activate GPS.’”
Anne held up her gauntlet-hand. “Activate GPS.”
Nothing happened.
“Activate GPS,” Anne said again, this time a little louder.
Still nothing.
Jocelyn shook her head. “I’m not sure what the problem is. If the quest has been activated, the sparrow should appear. But I’m not going to attempt repairs here, and in any case, medallion maintenance is hardly my area of expertise. Follow me.”
A narrow suspension bridge hung precariously between the tiny tethered tier and the mountain. The bridge consisted of two thick ropes holding up a bunch of planks and other smaller ropes all knotted together and pretending to be a real bridge and not the inevitable death trap it looked like. Each end was anchored to a pair of rectangular stone pillars. Jocelyn led the girls quickly down the bridge (granted, given the steep angle, there was really no way to go down other than quickly), and once the group reached solid ground again, they hurried past a large warehouse-looking structure and descended the steep winding paths and twisting staircases of the academy. Most of the buildings were single story, each with a gently curving peaked roof that extended over a veranda.
As they passed one of the few two-story buildings, Jocelyn said, “This is the main administration building. Typically, all newcomers to the academy are brought here first to register, but given your special circumstances we’ll head straight for—”
“Professor Daisywheel.”
The man who spoke stood in the doorway of the administration building. His dark, wavy hair contained a hint of gray at the sideburns, his white skin was evenly tanned, and he had just the right amount of freckles. He wore crisp gray trousers, a charcoal tunic, and a midnight black cape, which was slung over one shoulder. Curiously, a crow was perched on the other shoulder. The crow stared at Anne without blinking.
“Oh dear,” Jocelyn murmured. She ushered Anne and Penelope back over to stand before the man. “Minister, such an unexpected pleasure to see you,” she said with forced cheerfulness.
The man smiled the smile of someone who didn’t much care for smiling, felt smiling generally to be a nuisance, and whose facial muscles were so out of practice they seemed to have forgotten most of the required movements.
“I’ve been waiting here for over an hour, Professor,” he said. “I do have other matters that require my attention, you know.”
“My apologies. I had no idea you were coming in person.” She turned to Anne and Penelope. “This is Lord Greystone from the Wizards’ Council. He’s the current Minister of Questing and oversees everything related to academies and quests.” Jocelyn turned back to Greystone. “Speaking of which, Minister, please meet Anne, our newest Keeper.”
Greystone gave a startled look. “Keeper? Your note only mentioned new students. Who gives a gauntlet to an untrained child?”
“She’s thirteen, which is hardly a child. And in any case, you know full well there is no age restriction. She was the first to wear the gauntlet, meaning it has now bonded itself to her, which makes her a Keeper. On that point, the rules are extremely clear.”
“What’s a Keeper?” asked Penelope.
“That’s what we call anyone who wears one of the gauntlets, dear,” Jocelyn explained. “Anne is a Keeper of the Sparrow now.”
Greystone’s expression darkened as he tried to come up with an argument against this but failed. “I presume you have the paperwork?” he said finally through gritted teeth.
“Right this way,” said Jocelyn, pointing inside.
Greystone turned on his heel and entered, but Jocelyn momentarily held back Anne and Penelope. “Say nothing unless spoken to,” she whispered. “And no matter what, do not allow that medallion to be seen.”
“How?” asked Anne. “It’s still blinking.”
Instead of answering, Jocelyn merely held a finger to her lips and continued into the building without another word, leaving Anne confused. Why were they hiding the medallion from the one person who would likely most want to see it? Wouldn’t a Minister of Questing want to know about a potential quest? Nevertheless, Anne did as Jocelyn had instructed and pressed the gauntlet to her side to hide the pulsing light. They proceeded through a sliding door, down a short corridor, and into a large room where several tables were covered in stacks of paper.
Jocelyn retrieved a small pile of documents and handed them to Greystone.
He examined the top page. “It doesn’t list her official status.”
“She’s an orphan,” said Jocelyn.
Another flicker of irritation crossed his face. “Yes, but from which preparatory school?”
“None. She’s been a resident of Saint Lupin’s Institute almost since birth. The parents and place of origin are unknown. She’s a genuine orphan.”
Greystone gave a look of triumph. “If she cannot provide proof of her home tier, she cannot enroll.”
Jocelyn pointed to the gauntlet. “She can if she has that, along with the permission of the head of an academy willing to take her. Which she most certainly does.”
Greystone scowled and went back to flipping thro
ugh the documents, pausing every now and then to study a page more closely.
“I assure you, everything is in order,” said Jocelyn.
“What about the gauntlet?” he asked without looking up.
Jocelyn motioned for Anne to step forward. “Place the gauntlet here, dear,” she said, indicating a spot on the table. Anne placed her gauntlet-hand palm-down so as to hide the medallion from view, but she couldn’t prevent a faint glow from reflecting off the surface of the table. The crow hopped down and peered curiously at the flickering light. Anne wanted to shoo it away, but she couldn’t do so without attracting attention.
Greystone stared at the gauntlet with an expression of shock. “Dear gods above and below, where did you find that antique?”
“It’s a castoff,” said Jocelyn. “From one of your new council-run academies, no doubt. The paperwork for it is there in the documents I gave you.”
Greystone sniffed, as though the gauntlet were omitting a bad odor. “Well, no wonder they got rid of it. It’s not even fit for a museum.”
“Yes, pieces of it will probably begin dropping off before she makes it through her first year,” said Jocelyn. “I’m afraid it’s the best we could do under the circumstances.”
Anne’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Jocelyn clamped her hand firmly over it. “Yes, dear, I know. It’s deeply upsetting.”
“This is precisely why I wish to see all the quest academies brought under the direct oversight of the Wizards’ Council,” Greystone said. “We could standardize testing, provide access to proper, well-maintained equipment, and ensure a minimum level of quality control. You do your students a disservice by equipping them so poorly.”
“I expect we have somewhat differing views on what counts as a disservice to our students,” said Jocelyn.
The Adventurer's Guide to Successful Escapes Page 5
