The Reach Between Worlds (The Arclight Saga, Book 1) (7 page)

Bernard

Ven was the best kind of friend. Bright-eyed, energetic, and able to sum up an entire person in a single quip. Were it not for him, the first few days in the Magisterium would’ve been hell on earth.

Taro stared down at his course schedule as he followed Ven up a ladder and across a tilted hallway.

“Not much farther,” Ven said. He moved so quickly Taro kept losing him just past the next bend in the hall.

Magister Veldheim’s classroom took up the entire eighteenth floor. The air was thick with hot steam, the tiled floor was soaking wet, and in the center of leaking valves and pipes was an enormous aquarium. Veldheim was nowhere in sight.

Nima was sitting on a copper pipe near the aquarium and waved to him. She looked like she’d just ran a marathon, and beads of sweat ran down her neck. Beside her were other younger recruits, including Sikes, all in similar states.

“Tough class?” Taro asked Nima.

Nima breathed hard. “I feel like I’m gonna die. Why didn’t you come?”

Taro shrugged. “Woodcroft said I didn’t need it.”

Not far from the tank was a workstation covered in glass beakers bubbling with black ink. Beside these were log books with names listed in one column and a quantity listed in the next.

While Taro leafed through the lists, Sikes approached the tank and pressed his face to the glass.

“Get away from it,” Taro whispered.

“Piss off,” Sikes said, and continued to stare into the murky water.

“You should listen to him. It ate Veldheim, it might eat you too,” Ven said.

“What’s in there?” Taro asked.

Ven shrugged. “Could be anything.”

“Haven’t you done this two years in a row?”

“Veldheim’s a kook. He doesn’t plan out lessons, he just takes you along on whatever crazy project he happens to be working on. He’s mostly harmless, none of his students have died in a long time.”

The tank rattled and water splashed out from the open top. A giant tentacle swung up, clutching a tiny man in a diving suit. It slammed him onto the tiles, but not only was he uninjured, he was laughing as he rubbed his bruised body.

It was Magister Veldheim. The recruits tried to help him, but he shooed them away. “I’m quite all right.” Veldheim lifted the goggles off his eyes and cracked his back. In his left hand he clutched a long tube with a point at the end of it. It was filled with the same ink that was on the table.

He emptied the tube into one of the beakers. “When did class start?” he said absentmindedly.

“Ten minutes ago,” Pipes said with a mote of irritation.

Veldheim touched his fingers to the bottom of one of the beakers and the contents began to boil. “We’ll just let that sit for an hour or two.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be teaching us something?” Ven said.

“Oh, you’re back again,” Veldheim hung onto the word ‘again’ for a long moment. “What a pleasure. You’ll make a perfect volunteer for this. Let’s see, who else.” Veldheim pointed to Taro. “You.”

Taro glanced at the tank. “What are we going to do?”

“You’re going fishing.” He pointed to two doors across the deck. “Boys left, girls right. Inside you’ll find appropriate diving suits. No running though, remember: safety first.”

The diving suits were steel-gray and made of tight stretchy fabric. Along the seams were metal loops, and on the back was a large hook. Half the suits had chunks taken out of the arms and chest, tears in the fabric, and had been re-stitched several times.

When they returned to the deck, Veldheim called them to his workstation. “Gather ‘round.” He stuck his finger into the hot ink a smeared it onto a piece of parchment. “Inscription is a magister’s most powerful tool. It’s the lynchpin that holds magistry together. And the ink you use matters a great deal. For example, most magistry lanterns, such as the ones used to light the tower—” He pointed towards the red orbs on the ceiling. “—are most effective with a specific type of ink. One-third black carbon, which we will provide, one third Dionaea acid, which you’ll acquire in your next lesson, and one third ink from an Architeuthos Magnus.” He pointed a thumb to the tank. “His name’s Bernard.”

The aquarium rumbled and a tentacle pressed against the glass. Each of the hundred suckers on the ends were the size of a fist.

“Don’t be afraid, you’re perfectly safe so long as I’m around. Bernard’s provided thousands of gallons in ink in his time. Now, Ven and Taro will go first to show you that it’s perfectly safe.”

“And if they get killed we’ll clean out the tank and pick two new test dummies,” Pipes snickered under his breath.

“Each of you choose a ladder.” They did so, and Veldheim attached a cable to the loops on their backs. “Suri, could you bring me that case?”

Inside the case were more ink collectors, and ceramic ‘U’ shaped devices with runes across the top. When Veldheim touched them, they glowed.

“These are of my own design. It uses an ink composed of augwerd seeds and gryphon bone marrow. They will allow you to breathe underwater for seven minutes.” He walked to the slate chalkboard and scribbled out a diagram of the creature. Ten tentacles, two bulging eyes, and a bird-like beak. “Ven, you’ll distract Bernard while Taro sticks him right here.”

Taro and Ven hesitantly climbed the ladders on opposite sides of the tank and put their goggles on. When they got to the top, the water went completely still.

Ven took a deep breath and plunged head-first into the tank. Taro tried his best to follow him in, but couldn’t bring himself to move. It was like his legs were frozen solid.

“Now,” Veldheim shouted up. “Hello? Go ahead, hop on in.”

The ladder shook, and a hand press against Taro’s back. “In you go,” Veldheim said, pushing him in.

The water was thick as soup. Every few seconds he caught a glimpse of the giant squid moving sluggishly across the tank. It seemed like Ven was doing his job trying to distract it, so Taro had to do his.

He saw an opening in the flailing tentacles and swam towards it. Two eyes stared back from the enormous creature, and beneath them was a black beak that could’ve taken an arm off. Taro saw his target, an ink-sac not far from the snapping beak. When he pricked it, the glass cylinder filled within seconds.

From the corner of his eye, Taro saw that the squid had caught Ven. He thrashed and shoved against the tentacles, until one managed to wrap around him and knocked the breather from of his mouth. Ven was quickly running out of air, and it looked as though he was only seconds from passing out.

Taro stabbed Bernard with his ink collector and the squid released Ven. Taro grabbed him under the arm and swam like a madman to the surface.

The boys climbed down the aquarium ladder and sprawled out onto the tiles, gasping for air and coughing out a pint of water.

Taro chucked the ink collector at Veldeim’s feet. “Screw you.”

Veldheim picked it up and wiped the blood off it. “You were never in any danger.”

“Sure didn’t feel that way,” Taro said.

“If you can’t take a little bloody nose, run back home and crawl under your bed.” He turned to the other students. “That goes for the rest of you. Bernard’s a goldfish compared to what I’ve got in store for you.”

Veldheim glanced down at his ledger. “Edrin and Suri, you’re up next.”

Flesh-eating Flowers

Veldheim made it clear that he nobody was leaving without collecting their ink. By the time they were done, three recruits had sprained their wrists and one had to have Veldheim restart their hearts. They each received a vial of ink and were instructed to continue to their next lesson on the fortieth floor.

Entering the classroom was like stepping into a vast woodland. Trees and bright green grass went on for miles over rolling hills and forests. A gentle breeze caressed the foliage, and a stream of crystal-clear water trickled from a mountainside into a bright lake.

The doorway stood in the middle of the air and disappeared when all of the students were through. The ceiling and walls look like a summer sky, and it was impossible to tell where the room ended and the magic began.

“It’s an enchantment.” Ven picked a stone up off the ground and tossed it at where the wall should’ve been. The stone struck the sides and sent ripples throughout the room.

“Where’s the instructor?” Taro asked.

“Antherion shouldn’t be hard to find,” Suri said.

The group walked through the forest close together. Leaves crunched underfoot, birds chirped overhead, and for a moment Taro forgot where he really was. At the end was a clearing with tilled land and various plants sprouting in rows. Gardening tools, clay pots, and wheelbarrows lay in a pile beside the soil.

Taro laid in the grass and stared up at the clouds rolling overhead. It felt like a lifetime since he’d seen a day like this. In Ashwick every day was a different shade of gray and the rain never ended.

When he closed his eyes he felt the earth rumble beneath him, and realized it was footfalls. When he opened his eyes, his heart felt like it would jump out of his chest.

Towering over him was a verifiable, true-to-life, dragon. When he was younger, his father told him stories of dragons and their flying brood-city. He even claimed to have seen one once, but even at the age of five Taro suspected this was a lie.

This dragon’s scales were slick and silvery-orange, its green eyes were like fist-sized emeralds with black slits for eyes. Hot, moist breath exploded from it when it opened its mouth and reared its thousand razor-sharp teeth. Then it spoke.

“Sleeping in my class will not be tolerated,” it said calmly.

Taro stammered. “Y-your c-class?”

The dragon slumped beside the tilled land onto its belly. “Magister Veldheim kept you late?”

“Yes, sir,” Ven said. He looked like a tiny spec staring up at the gigantic creature. Taro still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This was Antherion. “He wouldn’t let us leave until everyone had finished.”

“He simply has no respect for my class,” Antherion bellowed. “We’ll have to make do with the time we have. I’ve prepared a special lesson for you today, children.” He pointed his tail towards a rack of shovels and gardening gloves. “Grab a pair and we’ll begin.”

Ven, Suri, and some of the older students went for the gloves without hesitation, but Taro and the newer recruits were stunned still. Antherion seemed annoyed that his polite requests were met with fear.

He sighed so hard it felt like a hurricane. The trees rustled and he stood on his hind legs. “Every year, I swear.”

Antherion stretched his wings their full span. Each was as long as his body from head to tail, and as he did his scales shimmered and glowed until the light enveloped his entire body. He grew smaller and morphed into something resembling a human: two legs, two arms, and he stood upright, but his wings remained, as did his glowing eyes and booming voice.

“Can we please proceed with the lesson?” His wings tucked neatly behind him, and he cracked his knuckles. “Yes, I’m a dragon. No, I’m not going to eat you.” He was much less intimidating when he wasn’t four stories tall, and the recruits did as they were told.

Antherion picked up a handful of moist soil and rubbed it between his long, scaly claws. “Do you know what this is?”

“Dirt,” Sikes said.

Antherion motioned for Sikes to hold out his hand and dropped the scoop of soil into it. “This is the most precious resource in the kingdom. This soil is what made Endra the envy of the world. Even the Dragonkin don’t have this.”

“You don’t have dirt where you’re from?” Sikes said.

“Endran soil was exposed to the Arclight for thousands of years. It’s got properties that cannot be found elsewhere. Plants used to spring-up overnight. Regrettably, the soil outside is frozen solid. Here in the Conservatorium we use it to grow many required herbs.”

Antherion retrieved a leather sack beside a tree; inside were peach-sized bulbs. He handed one to each of the recruits and had them plant it, apply fertilizer, and bring it water from the stream.

“What you’ve just planted is called Dionaea Maltris. It’s a carnivorous plant from the jungles of Kadrek.”

“Carnivorous?” Taro said.

“No need to worry. These will take a week to grow large enough to even take off a finger. Now, that’s a fair big better than their normal year-long growing time. Once they sprout, we’ll re-plant them in the shade — that’s where they enjoy hunting.” Antherion waved the recruits along. “This way, don’t fall behind.”

Taro whispered to Ven as they marched deep into the woods. “Did he say hunting?”

“Hands in your pockets,” Ven said.

The trail from the farmland through the woodland was well-traveled. There were many plants and fungi along the path, each of them with a tiny label pegged into the ground nearby indicating what they were, along with notes and warnings ranging from ‘DANGER: SEVERLY POIOSONOUS’ to ‘DO NOT EXPOSE TO DIRECT SUNLIGHT’ and ‘DO NOT CULL ON TUESDAYS.’

At the end of the trail was a moss-covered cave. A stream trickled from the top, and the inside was moist and teaming with mushrooms. Antherion stopped the group a few yards into the cave.

When he took another step forward, what had before looked like vines on the cave floor sprang up. Antherion seized the vine by the ends and followed up the length with his other claw until he found the flower. The petals snapped at him with long, purple teeth. Antherion yanked the petals open and ushered the recruits closer.

“It’s quite safe,” he said. The recruits peered at the plant from different distances, with the most experienced (or curious) at the front of the pack. After fighting a giant squid, this was a cakewalk, and Taro was right at the front with Ven.

“The Dionaea Maltis likes to hide in caves. It waits for prey — lions, primates, humans, anything big enough. The flesh is sent down here and is dissolved in this acidic solution at the base of the flower.”

Antherion broke the flower off its vine, and it continued to chomp for a few seconds after it was severed. They hauled it to the clearing. When they were back, Antherion had Suri chop it up while he passed out mortars and pestles. The recruits spent the next few minutes grinding the flower into a paste and adding it to their vials of ink. When Taro did so, the ink turned a deep purple and fizzled.

“Perfect,” Antherion said, peering over Taro’s shoulder. “That’s exactly the reaction we want. It’ll make a fine illumination enchantment.”

Eventually everyone had their ink prepared, and Antherion looked very pleased.

“Before I hand you off to Magister Briego,” he said, “I want you to take a look at the bulbs you planted.”

Taro didn’t see anything in the field at first, but when he got closer he saw the tiniest, thinnest spec of green creeping from the soil.

“The soil built this kingdom,” Antherion said. “The airships in the sky, the magistry in this very room, is all possible because of a handful of soil. It’s creation, production. If you take nothing else from my class, take this: a magister’s duty is to create, not destroy.”

It seemed like a peculiar statement. While in peacetime magisters focused on scientific pursuits, engineering projects, and municipal work, during wartime magisters were frequently used as human weapons. Part of Taro wanted point this out, but he didn’t want be rude. Antherion was, after all, a very polite dragon.