Faculty of Fire (24 page)

“You know,” Master Romius said quietly, but everyone heard him, “your philosophy of making life hard is very similar to the philosophy of the vampires. Are you not afraid of the comparison with them?”

“Not at all,” laughed Master Revel. “There are many things for which vampires deserve respect, for instance, their ability to make use of any means to attain the goal that they have set themselves. But then, Master Romius, is it really for you talk about comparisons with vampires? After all, you are the first person in the entire history of the Academy to have brought a vampire here, even if it is under the pretext of researching links with another world – what is it you call it?”

“Earth,” Romius replied peevishly.

He didn’t like the subject to be mentioned, because in the last few months his research in this area had not advanced a single step.

“That’s it!” said Master Revel, casting a sarcastic glance at Romius. “By the way, is your friend the vampire still not feeling very well? After all, ‘bloody Velkheor’ is one of the oldest vampires alive, and he could probably break down any hypnosis program in a few minutes. Am I right?”

“In principle, yes,” Master Romius replied evasively. “But not in his present condition.”

“And how long will he remain in this condition?” Master Revel enquired.

“Maybe a day, maybe a year,” Master Romius said with a shrug. “What can I say about a phenomenon that we encountered so recently? It requires years ...”

“All right, all right,” Master Revel interrupted him. “That’s not what we’re talking about at the moment. Although, if you have no objections, I would still like to use your guest as a consultant on ‘making life hard’. I think he will be glad to be asked and derive genuine pleasure from our collaboration.”

Master Romius ignored what the head of the security service said, because he thought it was a joke. But Master Revel thought otherwise, and he seriously intended to have a talk with the vampire about this subject, now that a suitable pretext had turned up.

“Excuse me,” an impatient voice said from the top row. It was the young man who had been so keen to make a very important announcement at the beginning of the session. “Since you have decided to ignore your own rules of procedure, let me tell you what I wanted to say right at the start.”

“Very well, young man, have your say, but be quick,” the chairman sighed.

“On the new pupils’ first day, something happened while I was on duty at one of the portals. First, the vampiress was several minutes late, and I think she climbed over the wall. I believe that is already suspicious enough.”

Master Revel raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“I know she was late, but we have no right to expel her for that. The rules only state that all pupils must be in the Academy before sunrise. Anyone who was really late would not be able to get through the barrier that appears after the tower is sealed off. And the fact that she scaled a twenty-feet-high wall is really rather amusing.”

“But isn’t it suspicious?” the young man asked in surprise.

“Suspicious?” Master Revel echoed, looking closely at the speaker. “Natan, if I am not mistaken. Has nobody ever told you that it’s impossible to hypnotise a vampire? They have an inborn immunity to that kind of thing. And certainly no vampire would ever help Tabernacle voluntarily.” Master Revel scratched his head and admitted: “Actually, we are working on that possibility, but it’s certainly not likely.”

“All right,” Natan agreed. “But that’s not all. Apart from the vampiress being late, I saw something else, or rather, someone else.”

“And?” asked Master Revel, trying hard not to yawn.

“This someone else bore clear signs of hypnosis.”

“Then why didn’t you say so earlier?” roared Master Revel. “Let’s hear the whole story from start to finish, and make sure you don’t leave out a single detail.”

Scene 1

“Look out!”

I just managed to dodge a huge fireball that went flying past only a quarter of an inch away from my shoulder.

“You look out!” I shouted and shot a fireball back. Not as big, but still big enough to leave a good scorch mark on someone’s skin.

“Yes, I will,” Neville agreed, and he turned an elegant backward somersault.

That was really something. It was obvious that the man had studied the Art for many years. Fantastic reactions, incredible stamina ... and those cartwheels and tumbles that Neville performed during a duel – not many circus acrobats could have managed those.

Naturally, my little fireball flew past underneath him, buzzing and sparking.

So, what else did I have that I could use against him? Maybe I should try the famous firebird?

No, too late.

Neville made a movement of his open hands that resembled the flapping of a small bird’s wings, and a fiery imitation of a bird appeared just in front of him. Actually, this streamlined bundle of fire didn’t really look all that much like a bird, it was more like a flat triangle with edges that trembled slightly as it hung in the air.

“Oh, shit,” was all I had time to say before this marvel came dashing straight for me.

This was no fireball, oh no. A firebird couldn’t be dodged that easily. It wouldn’t stop coming after me until it singed my backside ... more drastic measures were required here than simple acrobatics. But on the other hand, while Neville was recovering after creating the bird, I had a real chance of winning a training duel ... for the first time since I had been studying in the Academy (and this was after two whole months had gone by!).

I hurriedly shot a fireball at the bird. It only delayed it for a split second, of course; it was a bit too feeble to do anything much, to be quite honest. But what could I do, if my energy potential was so low?

The bird was getting closer ... what could I do? My arsenal wasn’t very large. I’d have to rely on an energy shield. But would it hold?

Shield.

The firebird crashed into my shield and shattered into tiny sparks without doing me any harm. But Neville had already recovered his strength, and I’d spent a lot of mine on the shield ... hello, fireball.

The medium-sized firebird (thank the gods it wasn’t bigger) exploded with a loud bang as it slammed into my chest, and I was thrown back several yards. Apparently the fight was over.

The energy dome was switched off, and we heard the sound of laughing voices – a very familiar sound to me at this stage.

“Right, you have just seen a typical example of the way you should never fight a duel, demonstrated by Zach, and an example of the correct strategy for victory, which was demonstrated for us by Neville.”

Shins was mocking me again. He did that at the end of every duel. In his opinion, the tactics I chose were always fundamentally incorrect, In general I could never do anything right. But that wasn’t true! It’s hard to select the correct tactics when you only have as much power as I do. The correct tactics are the ones that bring victory, our teacher said, and I agreed completely with that statement, but I still couldn’t win. Not against anyone! And I knew that from the most reliable source possible – from Chas.

That was the disappointing conclusion he reached after wasting several hours on me in the Hall of Low Power. We spent the whole time fighting fiercely under the supervision of an experienced specialist from one of the senior classes (who blatantly slept through the entire duel). Basically, if not for our renowned fire-proof livery, I would have been reduced to a heap of ashes ... about three hundred times. The other thousand or so times, I would have got away with burns ... but I can’t say how serious they would have been ...

I was simply too weak. So what could be done about it? There was nothing that could be done. Even Higher Craftsman Romius simply raised his hands helplessly in an apologetic shrug.

“What mistakes did our Zach make?” Shins asked.

Oh great, thanks, I was really going to enjoy hearing my classmates tell me all about the idiotic errors I’d committed. These terrible teaching methods ...

“He shouldn’t have shown off his acrobatics so much,” a fat pupil suggested

Of course I shouldn’t have. Any normal person would have put up a shield and replied with a firebird of his own. But that was a normal person. With my level of power there was nothing I could do but twist and turn and skip about like some crazy grasshopper. And by the way, Neville had outdone me with his fancy acrobatics, but he’d still won, hadn’t he?

“He should have just put up a mirror shield,” a pretty girl suggested.

Ah, pretty girl, if you only knew how many buckets I’d sweat before I could put that shield up ... and when I put it up, it would only hold for a few seconds. And you had to remember the basic rule of a mirror shield – it only reflected spells with less energy than had been used to create it. That is, if one of Neville’s fireballs smashed into my mirror shield, it would demolish it instantly, before I could even say “mama”.

“That’s right,” Shins agreed. “And what was the biggest mistake that Zach made?”

“He didn’t surrender right away,” some joker suggested.

“He didn’t attack enough.”

“He didn’t put enough power into his spells.”

“No, no and no again,” said Shins, shaking his head, and then, very slowly and deliberately, he said: “He thought too much.”

When we finally left the Hall of Low Power, it was already evening. Well ... according to our internal time it was. Outside the Academy it had been night for two weeks. A night that lasted weeks for us. Who could have guessed what a depressing effect that darkness would have on me and all the others? You woke up in the morning, and outside the window it was dark; you had lunch, and it was dark; you went to bed, and it was still dark. But then, the sun shining day and night for a month and a half had been just as hard to take ...

Anyway, according to the timetable, we were due for evening meditation now, and no one was planning to skip the class. Least of all me.

“I feel like a squeezed lemon,” Chas complained with a zesty yawn that should have dislocated his jaw.

“That’s right,” Naive said. “About ten hours’ sleep would be just great now.”

“All you ever think about is eating and sleeping,” Neville sniped at his brother. “You already missed the morning meditation.”

Naive shrugged guiltily.

To be quite honest, we simply hadn’t bothered to wake him up, so there was no real basis for Neville’s jibes.

“I didn’t do it on purpose ...”

“If you’d missed it on purpose, your brother would soon beat all the nonsense out of you for playing tricks. I’m just afraid that if all the nonsense was beaten out of you, there wouldn’t be anything left.”

Vickers junior gave an offended sniff, but he didn’t say anything. Even he had realised long ago that it was better not to argue with Chas. It just wasn’t worth it.

“Shins really had a go at you today,” said Alice, who hadn’t spoken so far.

“Oh, tell me about it,” I agreed wearily. “How could I ever have imagined that someday someone would tell me I think too much!”

“You know,” Chas said with real feeling, “I entirely agree with you there.”

“I don’t really think too much, do I?” I muttered under my breath, but somehow Chas managed to hear me.

“Come on now,” he said with a very honest expression on his face. “Believe me when I say, as someone who has known you for a very long time, the phrase ‘he thinks too much’ – is not about you.”

“Thanks, Chas,” I growled, showing him my fist.

“Anything for you,” said Chas, ignoring my gesture.

We reached the right floor immediately. Two trips by teleport, and there in front of us was the familiar inscription: “Small meditation Hall No. 13”

“Listen, what are we going to do with our fiery boy?” Chas asked in whisper, holding me back by the sleeve. “Sooner or later he’s bound to reduce us all to cinders.”

Alice, who had remarkably keen hearing, nodded and joined us. Neville slowed down too, so that he could join in our discussion. And so Naive reached the door of the Meditation Hall entirely alone.

“What’s up, guys?” he asked, looking round at us in surprise.

I think I’d better explain why we were feeling so apprehensive. About two weeks earlier Naive had made his break-through and finally lit a candle. If you remember, lighting a candle was the basic exercise for focusing power, and we worked on it for six weeks after we started at the Academy. Or rather, Naive worked on it for six weeks, the rest of us moved on to more difficult tasks once we had a positive result at the first stage. The first to light her candle was Alice, but she was an exception. A break-through that quick was only achieved by about one pupil in every two hundred, which was exactly what happened this time (who would have thought statistics was a such precise science?). Her candle lit up with a steady flame, and our teacher’s face lit up for a moment in a joyful smile. As for the rest of us ... my candle was the next to light up, two weeks later. Then came Chas’s and Neville’s candles. The very last candle to light up (by this stage Craftsman Tyrel was considering strangling Vickers junior with his bare hands) belonged to Naive, and it lit up with a real bang. Alice, who happened to be sitting closest to the candle, was thrown several yards by the blast of hot air, and a miniature volcano appeared where the candle had been. That day the happy smile remained on Craftsman Tyrel’s face right through to the end of the class – and the angry scowl remained on the half-stunned vampiress’s face all evening.