Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) (16 page)

A startled silence passed, until eventually my weariness overcame me. I released the grip of my anti-magic and quietly fixed my gaze on the plate as it resumed its original shape. My grip on the platter faltered. It clattered to the stone floor and flung yellow bits of lamplight everywhere around the tunnel. I threw myself to one side and began to dry heave. Nothing came out except for a nasty smell which brought tears to my eyes.

“What is the meaning of this?” Caterwaul Lorenzo mumbled as if his tongue had frozen on the spot. He slowly forced both hands through his spotted oily scalp and reevaluated me as if I were an animal who just got very sick. “Do you have an explanation for this professor?” the Caterwaul asked with a trace of desperation in his voice. The professor shook his head solemnly.

“I don’t know any more than you my Caterwaul,” Wenchenberg admitted, plucking at his eyebrows. If I had to issue a statement, I would simply say that Jacob is talented boy who would be an excellent addition for the ranks of the Grimlars.

The Caterwaul stepped away from the bed and seemed to shrink slightly as he considered all that had just happened. Moving very quickly, he stomped up to me and jammed one of his bony fingers onto my nose.

“I very well hope that Professor Wenchenberg is right about your capabilities boy,” he whistled through his clenched teeth. “Because if he’s wrong, I will not hesitate to make your future days the grandest nightmare you have ever experienced.” The Caterwaul’s left eyelid twitched slightly. “You have until tonight to be out of this medical center and you have three days from now to move into the school and begin your training as a tier one Pronounced trainee.”

              My heart leapt out of my chest as the news reached my ears. Jacob Ofpacis! A tier one trainee!

Giving one last ferocious growl like a dying flame, Caterwaul Lorenzo pulled his cloak over his body as if to shield himself from the little light that was there. He walked away briskly and as he did so, the other elders followed in three perfectly straight lines.

Professor Wenchenberg propped himself against the nearest bed frame while running his thin fingers through his grey speckled hair. “We... are in a lot of trouble,” He said as he looked at me sadly.

              “Sir,” I began weakly. There was so much to talk about. Where to begin? What things to ask? What comments to make?

              “I imagine you’d like to talk about the vial you found in your pocket.” Professor Wenchenberg noted.

I nodded quickly, now rendered completely speechless.

“Hopefully by now you know that I gave it to you. Do you know what it was?” Wenchenberg asked, lacing his fingers over his left knee.

I took a deep intake of breath and stared directly at him. “You gave me the soul of a dragon,” I replied, intently looking into his eyes for any indication that I was wrong.

The old professor gave a loud shaky sniff before erupting into a mad coughing fit that lasted a few seconds. “Correct,” he said and I nearly died on the spot.

It took me a few moments for me to regain my breathing and when I did, the breaths I took were much too quick. I felt terribly lightheaded and for a second thought I must be dreaming. “No no that can’t be right,” I wanted to say. “This can’t be real. This was all just pretend in my head until now.”

“May I continue?” the professor asked softly. I must have absentmindedly nodded because he kept on talking.

“To an extent, you drank everything that made a dragon. His magic, his memories and his life.”

Suddenly finding my voice again, I quickly cut the professor off. “Why would you give something that powerful to me!? Weren’t you scared I was going to hurt myself? Why didn’t you tell me about this before? Where on earth did you get--”

              “Calm Jacob... Calm,” The professor interjected before bringing a finger to his cracked lips. “I’ll try my best to answer all of your questions eventually but from now on, you should let me do the talking. Understand?”

I nodded, clamped my mouth shut and tried to keep it that way.

The professor carefully sat himself at the foot of my bed which sighed comfortably under his weight. “You wonder why I gave you this potion when I could have easily sold it or drunk it myself. The professor paused to collect his thoughts while he stroked his precisely cut whiskers. “I’ve been an elder of the concentration camp for ten years, and for all ten of those years I felt that all of these deaths are unjustified. It may seem silly of me to say this, but I want to stop the Grimlars.”

              Although both of my arms were bandaged, I could feel gooseflesh prickle my skin. My mouth caved into a toothless smile as I looked up at the professor with new eyes. “
He understands
,” I realized suddenly. “
He knows this is all wrong
.
I’m not alone
.”

              “Sadly, putting the Grimlars away is not a one man job,” the professor conceded. “I decided I needed an accomplice who the Grimlars wouldn’t ever suspect of treason. Someone unlike me,”  he admitted humbly. “For my accomplice I wanted someone selfless and persistent. Five years ago, I chose you to help me Jacob.”

I shook my head and held up a hand up in protest. “Of all the people in the concentration camp, I’m probably the least useful. I couldn’t even use anti-magic until a few days ago. Why in the world would you pick me?”

Professor Wenchenberg cocked his head to one side. “I chose you because you’re very clever, very sincere, and because you never ever give up. Strength can be learned easily but it’s a lot harder to learn compassion and determination.” The professor paused to clear his throat before straightening up and looking fondly off into the distance. When I first met you, I saw these things in you, and I decided I would teach you how to read. Do you remember that day Jacob?
              I nodded slowly and half smiled. Five years ago felt like a lifetime away yet nothing about the professor nor his office had changed during this time.

“By teaching you to read I planted the seed for your survival.” The professor said, moving his hands as if he had rehearsed this many times. “Next, I had get you to pass the King’s exams. To do that, I slipped you the dragon soul just as you were leaving my office.”

“Why couldn’t you have told me this before? Why keep it a secret?” I hissed, looking left and right to make sure no people were coming.

“Had any of the other Grimlars caught on to what was going on, they would have examined your memory, just like Gregor. I kept this from you to keep you safe. I wanted to teach you how to survive but I couldn’t have you so involved that I would attract unwanted attention.”

“Okay fine,” I replied impatiently. “But why on earth did you think I was going to survive drinking the dragon soul!?” I whispered furiously. “Is my life honestly that expendable?” The professor’s face suddenly darkened as he lowered his head. He looked more like an old man than I ever remembered seeing him.

“Your safety was never in question Jacob. I took certain precautions to make sure that you would always survive the drink.”

“Such as?” I asked, both curious and suspicious.

              “Preston,” The professor answered quickly. “When you first told me about your friend, I was genuinely curious. Blood anti-magic is the hardest to find out of the five variations, and some argue that it’s the most dangerous.”

              “Why?” I asked, now taken aback.

              “It’s dangerous because it’s so versatile. It can heal, it can hurt and sometimes it can mindlessly destroy. The reason why the Grimlars were made in the first place was because a long time ago, a group of blood mages from the Dezbrit desert were attacking the non magic settlements.”

              “But why do Grimlars hunt all mages if only the blood mages were a threat?” I asked, trying to sit up even further.

The professor smiled warmly. “You ask good questions,” he told me. “I don’t know the specifics, however I believe that there were four main groups at the time: The blood mages, the woodland mages the mountain mages, and the normal folk. The woodland mages teamed up with the blood mages after being promised power and the normal folk paired up with the mountain mages, promising them riches.”

“Shouldn’t the blood mages have won though?” I asked tentatively. “After all, they had two groups of mages to fight with.” The professor shook his head.

“I believe the mountain mages won because they discovered anti-magic. Somehow, they found a different way to channel their sorcery so as a result, they began to call themselves as warlocks. The most elite of these warlocks were hired to by the normal men to fight these mages.

“Grimlars,” I growled in conclusion.

“Yes,” Professor Wenchenberg said, now looking at the ceiling. “But we’ve gotten off track. You wanted to know how I knew you’d survive and I said Preston.”

“What does Preston have to do with it though?” I wondered, rubbing the sleep from both of my eyes.

“Preston healed your sickness didn’t he?” The professor asked in response. “I knew his touch would help you, so I gently nudged him in the right direction. I had him find you.”

“You can do that?” I exclaimed in awe. The professor bashfully brushed this question off with a flick of his wrist.

“
Well I’m not completely inept you know.” he said under his breath. “Anyway, now that I’ve explained all of that, I bet you’d like to know where I found this dragon soul?”

I nodded nervously and rubbed my head, trying hard to remember everything that I was being told.

“Dragons are among the most magical beings in the world. When they die, their energy doesn’t disperse as easily as ours do, because of their high concentration of magic. Because of this, we can take a dead dragon, and squeeze its energy into a drinkable liquid. There’s only one condition: The dragon has to be fully willing.

              “So... you knew this dragon?” I asked skeptically

Professor Wenchenburg tuned and gave another rib-shattering cough.

              “No.”

              “Well how did you get it then?”

Professor Wenchenberg slouched a little and brought a finger to his temple as if remembering something fondly. “Before I became a professor, I worked for many years as a Grimlar.” He almost seemed to smile. “We were excavating old mage hideouts outside of the kingdom in a place called Lythia, when suddenly I felt the presence of a strong spirit nearby. I told my companions that I would be back and walked warily into the woods. I came to a very large tree and found the spirit resting underneath. I had found a dead dragon.” The professor’s voice quivered unexpectedly at the mention of a dragon. “I asked it about itself, but it didn't respond with its name. It said it only wanted to be reborn and without hesitation the dragon offered me its soul. Now you have to understand that this was an incredible offer for me, so without considering otherwise, I took his soul.”

              “What happened then? Why did you never drink it?”

              “Paranoia.” Professor Wenchenberg replied sharply. “I had no idea where this dragon came from, nor did I trust myself to survive drinking it. With the soul in my possession, I researched year after year to find as much about this dragon as possible, so I knew what I would be getting myself into. My main worry was that this dragon was evil beyond rational intent and would corrupt me by drinking it.” Noticing my expression of alarm, the professor calmly patted me on the back and continued to speak. “Many years of my study passed and I became an elder Grimlar during this time. Because of that, it seemed worthless to drink something I would not require later in life. I had done the research I needed and I was now sure that no malicious dragon had ever died in Lythia. Even though I still don’t know the specifics of the spirit within you. I knew it would be safe to consume.”

“So, let me see if I understand,” I said, wiping the bubbled sweat off of my forehead. “You wanted someone to help you. Someone determined and selfless. You would teach them how to read and think critically, however on top of everything else you wanted someone who could survive drinking the dragon soul,”