The Channeler

by William Kline

  After a long moment, Micah’s face lost its serious cast, and he turned and clapped Tommy companionably on the shoulder. “Tommy!” he exclaimed. “I trust you are finding your accommodations acceptable?”

  Tommy smiled up at Micah, pleased to see a familiar face. He was still fairly worried about the long school days with no weekend breaks, and although he didn’t want to seem like a cry baby in front of Micah, he couldn’t feel particularly enthusiastic about it, either, so he replied “It’s okay... I guess.”

  “You guess?” Micah frowned. “What’s the problem, Tommy?”

  “Well, I dunno. The room is kind of small, but I don’t really mind. I guess I’m just a little scared about so much school work.”

  It was then that Tommy noticed the two other boys and the chancellor. James was staring at Tommy with complete and total amazement on his face, as if Tommy had suddenly sprouted a second head. Ryan’s face, however, was a mask of fury. The smaller boy was glaring at Tommy with pure, unadulterated rage, and Tommy almost wanted to take a step back from him. Even Chancellor Duvey was scowling at Tommy, a thoroughly scandalized look on his face.

  Micah appeared to not notice any of it, however, and instead he gave a chuckle. “Yes, Tommy, I understand. Every new initiate coming in has the same concerns, I assure you. However, we’ve found that a tight schedule is necessary, at least in the beginning, in order to teach you things quickly enough in order to avoid accidents. Plus, it helps keep you out of trouble while you are still adapting to our lifestyle.” Micah gave Tommy a knowing wink.

  “Accidents?” was all Tommy could think to say.

  The lighthearted smile never left Micah’s face, and his tone remained carefree, as well, but the topic was serious. “I won’t lie to you boys. Starting out is a dangerous time for you. It’s very easy to slip up and hurt yourself or others. At times, it may feel like trying to hold a slippery eel that is trying to bite you. But it gets easier, I promise you, and I think you’ll find that you are having so much fun that you don’t mind the tough schedule.” His tone suddenly got more serious, then, and he continued, “But I must caution you, all of you, to be careful about following our rules. It can be tempting to take the easy route and delve into forbidden areas. I’d sooner destroy you myself than have you fall into that sort of thing.” He favored all of them with a significant look. James was still gawking at Tommy, and Ryan was still glowering, so Tommy nodded as if he understood. Micah apparently took that as the confirmation he was waiting for, and he smiled again. “Good luck, then and welcome to you all.”

  With that, Micah walked over to the giant crystal, pausing only to exchange a few quiet words with a man who was getting up from one of the benches. Micah seated himself cross-legged on one of the mats, stared into the crystal for a moment, and then closed his eyes.

  The chancellor motioned for the boys to leave the room, so they did. Once outside, he glowered at them. “Mister Nelson, you’ve got a lot of nerve talking to the High Archmage like... like he was one of your schoolyard pals. Next time you speak to him, you will address him as ‘Sir’ or ‘My Lord’.” He turned on James. “And you, Mister Thorton. I’d like to assure you again that you’ll receive no special treatment during what will more than likely be your very short stay with us. Is that understood? By ALL of you?” The boys looked at the ground, abashed, and nodded their assent. “Very well, then. Come along, we have more to see. We’ll finish up here, you’ll have dinner, and then you’ll return to your rooms to place your things in order before lights out.” With that, he set off again and left the boys to trail behind.

  The rest of the trip was fairly mundane. They saw a laundry where they could drop of their clothes for cleaning (a convenience for which Tommy was extremely grateful – his parents had made him help with the laundry, and Tommy had always hated it), a medical clinic they could visit if they got injured or were feeling sick, a quiet room that smelled of incense for peaceful meditation (Tommy couldn’t see why he would ever need to use that, but there were several people in the room when they visited), and even a barber where they could obtain a haircut should they have a need. The final stop on the tour was a brief visit to the lavatory facilities, which were just down the hall from Tommy’s room; there were showers and toilets and the usual sorts of things Tommy had come to expect.

  After the tour, the chancellor took them back to the dining hall for dinner. They all got trays of food, and the chancellor sat to eat with them. The food was splendid – Tommy had expected disgusting food, like in his school cafeteria, but it was way better than even the meals his mother had made. He ate fried chicken with mashed potatoes, green beans, and even a small piece of pumpkin pie for dessert. Although Tommy had normally been a diffident eater, he found himself gobbling the food. Although the hall was fairly crowded, it was very subdued and quiet – totally unlike the cafeteria at Tommy’s school. At first, it was nice to have a bit of quiet for eating, but after awhile the persistent silence started to unnerve him. By the end of the meal, James was shifting in his seat and looking around nervously, as well, but just sat and sullenly picked at his food, while the chancellor ate methodically and in total silence.

  As Tommy looked around, he had expected the room to be full of other kids his age. He was very wrong, however. Some of the children were his age, and a few were even younger, but many of the other people eating in the room were full grown adults. Tommy even saw a couple men who looked old enough to be his grandfather! He made a mental note to ask about that should the opportunity arise. As the other people in the room finished eating, they rose one by one, returned their dishes to the kitchen, and silently filed out of the room.

  Finally, the chancellor finished, gazed at each of them in turn, and stood, motioning for them to follow. He led them back to their room, told them he would be there to guide them to their morning classes, bid them good night, and left.

  The boys went to their respective bed. James and Ryan began unpacking. Tommy found a stack of new clothes on his bed. A note on the top simply said, “Enjoy, M.”, so Tommy figured it was a gift from Micah. Mostly, it was jeans and t-shirts, but there were a few fashionable button-down shirts, as well as underwear, pajamas, and other assorted clothes. Everything was clean, new, and neatly folded. Tommy was relieved – he’d been wearing the same clothes for several days, and he had been wondering what he was going to do when it came time to wash them. He picked the clothes up and put them in his wardrobe, arranging them so he could find what he wanted. Tommy took off his old clothes, which were admittedly a little stinky, and put on a pair of the pajamas. In doing so, Tommy discovered a sealed envelope at the bottom of the stack. The pajamas fit well, so Tommy laid down on his bed and inspected the envelope. It was addressed to him, so he cracked the seal and opened it.

  Before he could review the contents, however, James spoke up. “So you really DID know the High Archmage, then?”

  Tommy had to look up to be sure James was talking to him. “You mean Micah? He’s the one who brought me here.”

  James shook his head and grinned. “That is so cool, man. I’m jealous. So what’s he like? He seems pretty mean to me.” James was clearly still smarting from the lecture he’d gotten earlier.

  “He’s nice. He was very kind to me. He saved my life” was all Tommy could think to respond. Although he had spent a couple days with Micah, he didn’t really feel like he knew the man at all.

  Tommy was saved from further response by Ryan, who interjected with an angry “Great. I’m stuck with TWO spoiled, pretentious jerks.” With that, Ryan flopped down on his bed and made a show of opening his own envelope. James shook his head and went back to unpacking, leaving Tommy to investigate his envelope.

  Inside was a weekly schedule, showing Tommy where he was expected to be and what classes he’d be having at what times. As he looked it over, Tommy couldn’t suppress a groan.

  His first class of the day, every day, was Mathematics.

  Chapter Seven

 
Tommy’s face hit the ground a fraction of a second before the rest of his body, and his breath went out with an “Oooof” sound. Tommy knew he should get up, but his body refused to obey, so he decided to just lay there for a moment. The mat he’d landed on was somewhat soft, at least, but it had that old sweat and antiseptic smell that gym mats always get, and Tommy couldn’t help but wonder briefly if he really wanted to have his face pressed against it. It reminded Tommy of the time they’d done wrestling in gym class at school, when he’d spend the entire period with his face pressed against either the stinky gym mats or the even smellier bodies of his classmates.

  “Get up,” Ryan taunted him.

  Tommy groaned and wished fervently and not for the first time that he was back in Math class, but he began picking himself up off the floor. His whole body felt bruised, and he moved like an old man, slowly and with great stiffness. His wish to be back in math class wasn’t facetious, either – he had had a genuinely interesting time in Math that morning, and was looking forward to the next day’s class. It wasn’t all “lecture and homework” here. Tommy worked at his own pace, investigated things that were interesting to him, and spent time with the instructors one-on-one. He’d left the class feeling like the intense school schedule might be positively tolerable.

  Until it came time for his current class, that is. Listed on his schedule as physical fitness, the class was something more akin to physical defense than anything else. The instructor, a tall, thin man who introduced himself as Lord Kalish and who wore loose robes that reminded Tommy of an Arab, had told the class that he was going to assess their skills. He had taken pairs of padded wooden swords off the walls and passed them out, and then paired them up two by two. Some heavy padded gloves, shin and elbow pads, and a heavy foam helmet came out of a large box in the corner of the room and rounded out the equipment. Lord Kalish had then instructed them to try to hit each other with the swords. Tommy had gotten paired with Ryan, given that they were of an age and a fairly similar build, although Tommy was taller and heavier than the lithe Ryan. Tommy had expected that this would give him an advantage over the smaller boy, but he had quickly been disabused of this notion. Not only had he not managed to hit Ryan even once, but he had never even gotten close. Every time he swung the sword, Ryan seemed to anticipate the stroke and either blocked it or moved out of the way to strike Tommy soundly on the head or chest. Tommy had lost count of the number of times he’d been hit, and this last one had been a particularly heavy blow to the head that had sent him reeling to the ground.

  Tommy had finally gained his feet and was about to raise his weapon against another of Ryan’s brutal attacks when Lord Kalish clapped his hands twice loudly. “Gather here, everyone,” the man called in an accent Tommy couldn’t quite place – it seemed to be a cross between several different accents, and made Lord Kalish sound foreign and exotic. Tommy was incredibly grateful for the interlude, but Ryan just shot him an angry scowl and turned away. Both boys headed over to the gathering, Ryan walking with his back stiff and Tommy limping slightly and dragging his padded weapon on the ground.

  When all the boys had gathered around Lord Kalish, the instructor asked, “Do you know why is it that we study to learn the sword?”

  Several of the boys shrugged and glanced at one another, but Ryan’s hand shot into the air. Lord Kalish acknowledged him with a polite nod.

  “So that we can defend ourselves in close combat, when there isn’t time to use magic,” Ryan said with pride and confidence in his voice.

  “Hrm. Well, perhaps that is one reason. Perhaps. But a mage of any significant skill does not have such a problem. With practice, it will take you no time at all to use your magic, and you will find that a short distance will make things easier, not harder.” This made Tommy remember Micah’s encounter with the greasy man – both men had used magic at a very short range, and seemed to have no problem with it.

  One of the other student’s spoke up. “So if magic is easier closer, why use a sword? Why not use a gun? We should be learning guns.”

  Tommy had to nod with respect at that. It hadn’t occurred to him previously, but having it pointed out, he couldn’t help but wonder why they would learn a weapon that became obsolete hundreds of years ago. Tommy half-expected Lord Kalish to be angry at being so questioned, but the man simply smiled and spread his hands in a gesture of wonder, saying “Why indeed! That is the question I ask you. Very well, you do not know. Lord Kalish will tell you. The answer is that, as you learn to use magic, you will learn to protect yourself, protect your body. A weapon that is held in your hand is as easy to protect as the rest of your body. True, a gun is held in your hand, and if you wish to strike an opponent with the gun, then it is a fine choice.” Several students chuckled at that, but Lord Kalish did not pause. “To be effective as a weapon, the gun must shoot a bullet, yes? And when the bullet leaves the gun, it leaves your hand. Now, the bullet is in the air between you and your opponent. It is as easy for him to work his magic on the bullet as it is for you to try to stop him. He could stop the bullet, perhaps turn it aside, or perhaps even turn it against you. Lord Kalish would be very embarrassed to be required to tell your parents that you were killed with your own bullet, yes?” Again the class chuckled, and Lord Kalish paused for a moment to let the laughter subside before continuing. “It is also true that policemen and soldiers will use guns, so many mages spend much practice in defeating them. In fact, there is a saying among my people; ‘Do not hurl the arrow which will return against you’. You should remember this always.” Lord Kalish hefted his own practice sword and held it up for the class to see. “But a sword... an opponent will find it very difficult to use against you. He will find this as difficult as he would find using your own body against you, simply because you hold the sword in your hand. So! You require a weapon to use when your magic is not available or is busy with other things, yes? “ Lord Kalish raised the blade of his sword, and then briefly but quickly spun it around his body. “The sword is the perfect weapon. It is elegant. It is useful. And when Lord Kalish is done training you, it will be deadly.”

  The man paused for a moment to give his words time to sink in. “You know that those who master the use of magic are named as mages. Those few mages who master the sword as well are named ‘Knights’. An elegant title for mastery of an elegant weapon, yes? Any of you might be called knight some day, if you have the fire in your belly for it. But listen to Lord Kalish - talent does not matter. The strength of your arm does not matter. The age of your body does not matter. No man gains the title of knight except for one path – practice. If you wish to be named knight, you must practice, practice, and practice.”

  Lord Kalish stopped and looked around at the eager young eyes staring up at him. He could see the wonder in their eyes, and the desire, yet he suppressed a sigh. Most, if not all, of the boys would quickly give up their pursuit of titles when they learned how much work was required. Lord Kalish had seen it many times before in many other classes, but he did not want to discourage the boys on their first day, so he simply stated, “Now is the time for bathing. You are stinky boys and Lord Kalish will teach you no more today.”

  Tommy hurried off with the rest of the boys. In school he had always been wary of showering with the other boys in gym class, but today he quickly stripped off his clothes as he listened to the other boys chatter about how they were going to practice every day and become knights. Ryan was among the loudest of the bragging boys, and he commented often that women were attracted to men who were called ‘Sir’. Tommy didn’t know if he had the dedication to practice with the sword every day, particularly if it was going to be anything like today. What he did know was that a nice, hot shower would feel wonderful on his aching body. In this, at least, Tommy was very, very right.

  Chapter Eight

  After physical fitness, Tommy’s schedule said it was time for lunch. Although he was ravenous, he had lingered overlong in the shower, letting the warm water cascade over his aching ba
ck and limbs. As he stepped into the lunch hall, Tommy quickly realized the error of his ways. Most of the large tables were already filled with other students, and there was no room for him to join the few classmates that he knew – Ryan, James, and several other boys from his classes were all gathered around a single table, and it was obvious that there wasn’t even enough room for the boys that were already there, much less one more. There was also a steady stream of other students flowing into the room. Tommy shook his head to clear it and hurried over to the line at the kitchen.

  The food seemed well made, if simple. There were slices of meatloaf with a mushroom gravy over them, some macaroni and cheese, and a mixture of peas and carrots that Tommy tried to refuse and was told in no uncertain terms that he was required to eat, all served on a sectioned plate that Tommy carried on a tray, just like he had in the cafeteria back at his regular school. Tommy was frustrated by the peas and carrots, since he hated vegetables and always refused to eat them, but when Tommy went to get a drink, his heart sunk further still – his choice in beverages seemed to be limited to either milk or water. A cafeteria worker walked by and Tommy stopped her to ask where he might get a soda pop.

  The worker gave him a sympathetic smile. “Nowhere, honey. The school doesn’t think pop is healthy for children, so you won’t find it anywhere.” She patted him on the head and then walked away. Tommy was simply too flabbergasted to take umbrage at the pat. No soda? Tommy shook his head and wondered again at what he’d gotten himself into. He contented himself with taking a glass of milk and settled down at one of the few remaining empty tables.