by David Meyer
“Is it? Because you can’t just expect people to go on hating themselves for something they didn’t do.”
“Fair point.” He rubbed his jaw. “Perhaps we can make an alternative arrangement.”
“Like what?”
“We skin them. Without magic, they’d no longer be subjected to the whims of Womigia.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean your whims?”
“Call it whatever you like.”
“Absolutely not.” Tad rose to unsteady footing. “No way we’re giving up our magic.”
As I looked his way, Leandra and Piper hopped off the bridge. Chairs sailed upward, grabbing both of them. Right away, Galison opened fire. Another section of bridge exploded, sending metal and stone to all ends of Torso. Meanwhile, my friends zipped across the Grille, dodging havoc magic the entire way.
“Be skinned or suffer the consequences.” Boltstar clasped his hands behind his back. Tilting his chair upward, he rode it toward the ceiling. “It’s your choice.”
Tad gritted his teeth. “If I still had magic …”
“I take it you’d prefer the latter option.” His eyes glittered with a strange kind of darkness. Tilting his chair, he rode it around the window side of Torso. With casual flicks, he sent a series of spells flying in all directions. “Drodiate. Drodiate. Drodiate.”
I directed my chair out of the way, narrowly dodging the ensuing wave of cyan bolts.
Tad leapt out into the open. A chair caught him and he flew after Boltstar. Meanwhile, Galison continued to aim spells at Leandra and Piper.
The library door burst open and Chaotics flooded out into Torso. Now organized, they hopped onto chairs and split up into groups. Within seconds, the entire area was a web of spells.
Dodging magic on all sides, I rode my chair down to the Lower-Torso bridge. As I watched the battle rage all around me, I had a sudden realization.
We were going to lose.
Although fast-paced, the battle had a long and drawn-out feel to it. This was a war of attrition. Which was a problem, seeing as how our side was outnumbered by the faculty and alumni.
I exhaled. Unfortunately, good didn’t always win nor did evil always get its comeuppance. Reality was messier than that. Sometimes, good people died. Sometimes, bad people were hailed as heroes.
Fury and helplessness churned up within me as I watched the Chaotics fall one-by-one to Boltstar’s army. I couldn’t just stay on the sidelines. Skinned or not, I had to help.
Riding my chair into the fray, I tried to formulate a plan. But my head was a jumble of newfound emotions.
“Drodiate, Drodiate, Drodiate.”
Boltstar heaved spells at Piper. She flew like mad to get away from him but the cyan bolts were getting closer and closer. Finally, one of them struck her back. She froze and her chair paused in mid-air.
My heart slowed to a near-stop. My veins iced over.
No.
Boltstar didn’t waste any time. Turning his wand toward a zigzagging Leandra, he took careful aim.
Emotions surged within me. They bubbled up, filling that horrible emptiness I’d felt since the skinning ceremony. The emotions brought something else with them. A familiar, longing sensation. I found myself reaching toward it, straining for even a touch.
Without thinking, I lifted Norch’s wand. I didn’t know what was happening. All I knew that was that for a single moment in time, I felt utterly and completely whole.
“Dissolate,” I said. The word just came out of my mouth. I hadn’t planned it or anything.
Brilliant auburn light exploded out of the wand. The force was so powerful, it sent me and my chair soaring backward a couple of feet.
Twirling and shimmering, the light raced across Torso. At the exact same instant, Boltstar cast his spell.
“Drodiate,” he said.
A blaze of cyan left his wand and raced toward Leandra.
The auburn light gained speed. Faster and faster it flew, crackling like lightning. It caught up with Boltstar’s spell in the blink of an eye. Auburn swept over cyan, swallowing it up before blinking out of existence.
I’d seen it with my own eyes. But it barely registered in my brain. Boltstar had skinned me. I’d felt it happen. I’d seen the magic leave my body. And yet, I’d managed to perform a spell anyway. Right out in the open, for all to see. Somehow, despite his best efforts, I still had magic.
And now, it was time to use it.
Chapter 55
Boltstar twisted at the waist. His bulging eyes met mine. For the first time, I noticed a trace of uncertainty within them. Adjusting his derby, he stared at me again. And just like that, the uncertainty was gone.
His wand moved in a very precise fashion. “Drodiate.”
A burst of cyan raced toward me. There was no time to think, to plan. And so, my instincts took over. My emotions solidified. My wand shifted, duplicating its previous movements. “Dissolate,” I said.
I hadn’t planned to do the same spell again. It had just sort of happened. But I was grateful nonetheless. For a split-second later, my wand exploded just like before. An auburn streak soared straight and true. It swallowed up Boltstar’s spell, then vanished.
Cocking his head, he studied me from afar. Meanwhile, spells flew back and forth, overhead and beneath our chairs. We were smack dab in the middle of a havoc magic war. And yet, it felt like we were the only two people in existence.
Racking my brain, I tried to understand how this had happened. Either something had gone wrong with the skinning ceremony or it simply hadn’t worked on me.
While I contemplated this, fury and disbelief started to swirl inside of me. Boltstar had drodiated Piper and tried to do the same to Leandra. He’d drodiated a generation of Chaotics and caused the next generation to hate itself for crimes it had never committed.
My wand shifted, flowing with my emotions. My lips opened wide and I knew just what to say.
“Pulverize.”
An auburn spell raced out of my wand. Immediately, Boltstar went to work. Little orbs of cyan light appeared, darting this way and that, constantly shifting positions. It was a veritable minefield of magic and I saw no way for my spell to penetrate it.
Abruptly, the auburn light began to stretch and unfold. It grew longer and wider, forming something akin to a flying blanket. Then it careened into the minefield and the orbs detonated all at once. They shredded the blanket.
But they didn’t destroy it.
Bits of auburn sailed onward. Boltstar lifted his arm and braced himself. The little bits stuck fast to his clothes for a split-second. Then they exploded.
The impact sent him hurtling off of his chair. Spinning sideways, he slammed into the back wall. Then he dropped to the Mid-Torso bridge.
For the briefest of moments, the room fell still. There were no spells, no shouts, no movement at all. Every head in Torso, save none, swiveled my way.
I blinked, utterly and completely shocked by this turn of events. I had stood toe-to-toe with the greatest magician of all time. And with a few unplanned, unknown spells, I’d driven him to his knees. How could that be possible? How was it even possible that I was doing magic in the first place?
Maybe magic can’t really be skinned, I thought. Maybe it exists in an endless, inner well.
That actually made a lot of sense. A skinning ceremony might drain one of magic. But maybe one could generate more magic under certain circumstances.
Grunts rang out and the fighting resumed. Meanwhile, Boltstar was quick to his feet. His gaze fell on me and I saw no fear in his visage. My knees began to quake just a bit.
Climbing over the railing, he leapt toward the Grille. His chair grabbed him and he rode it straight up until he was level with me.
Magic flowed inside of me like a restless ocean. I felt strong and powerful. Like a great wizard, one capable of tearing down all of Madkey with a simple wave of the wand. But that strength was tempered by sheer terror.
I was a dropout. And
Boltstar was, well, Boltstar. The greatest magician of all time. The memory of our first duel flooded my mind. I recalled racing around the HMQ, desperately trying to escape his power. And I recalled the exact moment he’d vanquished me. I’d used Chaotic magic back then and he’d defeated me with ease.
So, how had I gotten the upper hand this time? It must’ve been a fluke. Yes, that was it. I’d gotten lucky.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t count on luck to bail me out again. And so, I racked my brain, trying to recall the exact emotions that had led to the Pulverize spell. I’d experienced tremendous fury for what he’d done to Piper, for what he’d tried to do to Leandra. I’d also felt disbelief over how far he’d gone in his pursuit to destroy the Chaotics. Yes, that was it … fury and disbelief, in just the right amounts.
“It appears you’re fairly adept with Chaotic magic,” Boltstar said, his wand at his side. “But tell me something, Mr. Wolf. Can you control it?”
My fingers twitched nervously. “Control it?”
He nodded. “For all you know, your next spell might turn someone into an amputee. Or perhaps you’ll bring this entire building down upon us.” He gave me a keen look. “So, can you control it, Mr. Wolf?”
His words hit me hard, even as I tried to ignore them.
“The simple answer, Mr. Wolf, is no. You can’t control it. That’s not your fault, by the way. It’s a fundamental flaw of Chaotic magic.”
Panicking, I tried to recall the Pulverize emotions all over again. I’d felt fury, right? But how much? And what was that other emotion again?
“In my youth, decent witches and wizards couldn’t walk down the street without looking over their shoulders, lest they fall victim to some errant spell.” He gave me an appraising look. “Is that what you want your legacy to be, Mr. Wolf? The wizard who brought the magic community back to the Dark Ages?”
As much as I tried to resist, his words were getting to me. I’d always taken my safety for granted. Oh sure, rogue witches and wizards existed. And they sometimes used the Capsudra to cast the forbidden spells. But such magicians were few and far between.
Did I really want to live in a world where anyone could cast any spell at any time? A world where witches and wizards might not even know what spell they were casting until it had already left their wands? It sounded frightening. But the more I thought about it, the more it intrigued me as well.
Structuralist magic was so dull, so boring. So … contained. Every spell, save the forbidden ones, was known by everyone. That was what made Chaotics so interesting. Yes, it could cause problems. But it also held the promise of newness, of invention.
“Chaotics might be dangerous,” I replied. “But it could be good, too. Someone might come up with a spell to cure Hickets. Or to solve hunger. Or maybe to just sprout some lapsas and brighten everyone’s day.”
He stared at me, unmoving and unemotional. “I can see we’re at a philosophical stalemate, Mr. Wolf, the same one I reached with Mr. Hynor many years ago. Since debate won’t settle our differences, I’m afraid wands will have to do.”
The emotions I’d used for the Pulverize spell popped into my head. I steeled my heart, letting my anxiety and everything else melt away. Disbelief and fear began to rise up inside of me. The amounts of each varied as I sought to find just the right balance.
“Drodiate,” Boltstar said, his voice tinged with sadness and regret.
A flash of cyan caught my eye and I knew I was in trouble. My brain shifted into defensive mode and I recalled the spell I’d used to save Leandra from drodiation.
New emotions stirred inside of me. With quick, arcing movements, I shifted my wand. “Dissolate,” I said.
To my surprise, there was no sudden explosion of auburn magic. In fact, there was no magic at all.
Panicking, I lunged to the right. The chair tilted just enough and Boltstar’s spell flew past me. It struck one of the Chaotics, a bearded, heavyset man, in mid-spell. He gurgled and froze solid in his chair.
“How very interesting,” Boltstar said. “It appears you haven’t mastered Chaotics magic quite yet, Mr. Wolf.”
Goosebumps sprang up on my arms and legs. I felt like the proverbial emperor, exposed for my nakedness. With my options dwindling, I took the only choice I had left.
I fled.
Chapter 56
Cyan jets, bright and sizzling, flew past me. They were so close I could feel their heat, their dangerous energy.
I directed my chair to the right, then climbed toward the ceiling. A cyan streak just missed me, crashing into a thin witch with wide hips and big eyes. As I hurtled by, I caught a brief glimpse of her going rigid.
I kept the chair moving, zigzagging across the Grille, shifting up and down. The cyan streaks kept coming, getting ever closer to my body.
All around me, the war continued without pause. Galison, perched on the Mid-Torso bridge, fired a spell at a tall guy with glasses. The spell hit home and the guy dropped his wand. Screaming, he raked his fingers across his skin, clawing away imaginary terrors. Another spell put him out of his misery and he slumped in his chair.
On Lower-Torso, an elderly woman with a stooped posture and silver hair fired a spell at Whitlock. It found its mark and the professor shrieked in pain.
It was like that all around me. Sometimes a faculty member or alumnus took out a Chaotic, sometimes it was the other way around.
I heard a soft bump, followed by a grunt. Chancing a look over my shoulder, I saw a Chaotic tackle Boltstar right off his chair. The two of them started to fall before being caught by their respective chairs. Boltstar fired off a quick spell and the Chaotic went stiff.
I looked for Leandra and Piper. While I didn’t see them, I did notice Tad. He was on an undamaged section of the Upper-Torso bridge, the part connected to Left Arm. MacPherson was there as well. There wasn’t a wand to be seen and instead, the two of them were fighting the old-fashioned way.
Riding my chair to the bridge, I dove over the railing. My shoulder smacked into MacPherson’s back. The impact drove him forward and he hit his head on the wall. Eyes glazed over, he slumped to the ground.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Fine, now that my strings are cut.” He gave me a curious look. “Were you doing magic out there?”
I nodded.
“But you were skinned.”
“Yeah, well, I—” A cyan blast struck the railing. Swiveling around, I saw Boltstar on his chair, racing toward us. “We need to go.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere but here.”
Keeping low, we dove into the nearest hoist.
“Don’t leave, Mr. Wolf.” Boltstar’s voice thundered through Torso. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
As the gate slid up, the headmaster vaulted off of his chair. Landing squarely on the bridge, he stalked toward us.
“Where are we going?” Tad asked frantically.
“Lower-Torso,” I whispered to the hoist. “And hurry.”
Spells flew our way and I ducked down. They struck the gate and the hoist emitted an angry squeak.
It descended abruptly, leaving my stomach behind. Wind whistled in my ears. Then, just as abruptly, it slid to a screaming halt.
“Lower-Torso,” it snarled. “Everyone out. And hey, who hit me with that spell up there?”
“Boltstar,” I said as I followed Tad off of the hoist.
“Really?” The hoist’s tune changed instantly. “Well, sheesh. What’d you two idiots do to piss him off?”
We didn’t answer. Grumbling loudly, the hoist closed its gate and took off again, presumably to pick up the headmaster.
Tad gave me a look. “What now?”
I scanned Torso. The Chaotics were still putting up a good fight, but their numbers were definitely dwindling. “We need help.”
He snapped his fingers. “How about the archive? All of the old Chaotic magicians are in there.”
I considered that for a moment. “Didn’t you already try to
free them?”
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“Even if it works, who says they’ll help us?” I added. “I mean, they’ve been frozen for decades. They could be insane for all we know.”
“True.” He eyed me. “Do you have a better plan?”
I racked my brain. “We could try to fix Womigia.”
“What good will that do?”
“It’ll stop your people from hating themselves, for one thing. That might empower them to fight harder. And it’ll strip away the faculty’s and alumni’s blind loyalty toward Boltstar. That could weaken their resolve.”
He thought about it, then shook his head. “Even if we did fix it, Boltstar would just mess it all up again.”
“Then we’ll have to find a way to stop him.”
We broke out into a sprint. Using another hoist, we descended to Right Foot. Then we darted toward the archive’s secret entrance, passing trash and broken furniture along the way.
We halted just shy of the old plaque. Without a word, we shifted it to one side, exposing the conveyance portal.
Tad cocked his ear. “I don’t hear him,” he said between light gasps.
“Me neither.”
“Do you think he knows what we’re doing?”
“Undoubtedly.” My brow furrowed into a ridge. “There’s something I don’t understand.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Boltstar wanted to keep Womigia a secret, right? So, why didn’t he destroy this portal?”
“I don’t think he could.” He shrugged. “Boltstar’s a great magician, but much of Chaotic magic is beyond even his grasp.”
We touched the portal at roughly the same time. The bundled magic buzzed softly and then I found myself in complete darkness, twisting and turning and sliding at a million miles per hour.
Wind rushed against my face. Air vacated my lungs and I could no longer breathe. I started to panic. And that’s when I spilled out onto a concrete platform.
There was no garden this time. Instead, we found ourselves in a vast room, dimly lit with cool-lights. Mirrors were positioned across the floor. Not memory mirrors. Not even regular mirrors. No, these mirrors were something else. When I stared into them, I saw different versions of myself. In one mirror, I was sobbing on a dingy floor, a cold body lying next to me. Another mirror showed me dumping a bowl of soup over a humiliated Porter’s head. Still another mirror depicted me sitting in class, taking a test with a confident expression etched upon my face.
