The Lightning Knight

QUESTS

QUESTS

Magic. Po. I was stunned.

These words had stuck in my head and I knew there was more to it; however, I was due to follow Professor Lortho. The mystery of my new young friend would have to wait.

The professor stared at me from behind his desk. “Arithmetic, highest marks. Sorayian Language, highest marks. Apothecary, highest marks. Law, highest marks. Highest marks, highest marks... highest marks,” Professor Lortho repeated as he slapped a report from each of my classes down onto his oak desk. “Even the dead language, Elvish, highest marks.” He peered over the rim of his eyeglasses, his judgment all but palpable. “Tell me, Mr. Quartermaine. Why are you here?”

“You told me to follow you, Professor.”

“No, no. I meant, why are you at the Institute? You clearly not only have an aptitude for these studies but are far beyond anything you’ll learn in your fifth year. So, I ask you once more”—he paused, leaning over his desk, hands folded over the scattered reports—“why are you here?”

I inhaled slowly, taking the time to study the rotund professor, searching for a glimpse at his agenda. This was the first time I’d received grief for high marks in anything. I decided to hold close to my truth, lacking inventiveness at the moment, and gave him the answer that came easiest.

“I suppose, Professor, that I’m here because this is what is expected of me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You always follow expectations, do you?”

“As well as I can,” I replied, the small burdens of my life falling into line within the Institute’s prescribed structure.

The professor let out a small sigh, sitting back into his large study chair. “Disappointing, Mr. Quartermaine. Disappointing indeed.” He stared at me for longer than I was comfortable with, until finally, our conversation took a turn I never would have expected.

“Mr. Quartermaine, what do you know of magic?”

Was this a trap? Did he work for the High Queen? Could he read my thoughts?

“Magic isn’t real, Professor,” I answered. Suddenly my defenses were up, and this was no longer a professor who lorded over me with the power of this Institution. He was now an opponent in a ring, and I had to treat him as such. Any slipup of thought or my tongue would surely be disastrous for me.

Professor Lortho looked at me once again with disappointment. “What if it were?”

“Children’s stories, Professor.” I’d had this conversation before, be it in a tent a world away with Yokel, except in reverse.

Magic. Po. A dark room. A door.

Images flashed through my mind as if a locked door in my mind temple had briefly cracked open. My expression gave away my cards, and the professor noticed.

“Are you sure about that, Oliver?”

In four years at the Institute, Professor Lortho had never once called me by my first name. I felt the energies flow through me once more, and the smell of fire tickled my nose.

I had but two choices. Trust the professor, who had given me countless detentions in the past, or lie to him and lose the chance to learn more.

What would my brother tell me in a time like this?

“Honestly, Professor, I’m not sure.”

A large smile appeared underneath his bushy mustache and the professor clapped his hands together before moving to the front of his desk. He took a small black obelisk out of his pocket and placed it on the desk, spinning it. A dullness emanated around us both, and all sound from beyond the room evaporated.

“I was hoping you would say that. Listen carefully, Oliver. Magic is real,” the professor said. “It is lost, locked away, hidden from us. But we’ve come to the moment where it must be found. Your talents are wasted here at the Institute, and I very much doubt you will learn anything of importance that you do not already know. Therefore, I have a special assignment for you, the only one you will have all year. Complete it, and you may graduate. Don’t, and I fear there will be worse things to consider.”

If I had thought my shock from this morning’s kerfuffle was intense, the professor’s words promptly took the breath out of my lungs. I was lucky to even form words in response.

“What is the assignment, Professor?”

Professor Lortho checked his obelisk once more. “To find and save magic.”

“Save it? Save it from who?”

“Whom,” he deftly corrected. “The High Queen. She intends to destroy magic for good.”

“Magic is already gone, I thought.”

“Yes and no. But it lingers just so in magical objects throughout our world. Once those are all destroyed, I’m afraid we may never see magic again. But if you can find real magic, apart from relics and the like, then I believe we may have hope yet.”

This was well beyond anything I had expected, but it intrigued me.

“Hope for what?”

“Hope that we may save this world from what is to come.”

I had hundreds of questions running through my mind. “What of my other professors? They’ll want me to—”

“I have taken care of that. This is your assignment, so take great care, and trust no one. There is more to this world than you realize, Mr. Quartermaine.” The obelisk disintegrated into dust, sounds from outside the room resumed, and a loud bell rang. The professor pinched the dust between his fingers, sighed, and quickly left.

I sat alone in an empty room with my thoughts. Magic was real? Or wasn’t anymore? I was utterly confused and also excited. The professor was correct in that I was floating by at the Institute. Everything being taught I had already learned. This new assignment had not only a complicated quality to it but also an air of danger.

Danger. Whiskey Danger.

The professor had said to trust no one, but surely I could trust Whiskey Danger. Yokel and Roc were my best friends, and if I was going on a quest, I would need their help.

Nine Gods, I had a quest!

This was like every fairytale and children’s book I had ever read. The hero was given a quest, and the adventure began. I had spent the entire summer and even this entire morning begrudgingly contemplating my future, and here I was with it spelled out for me. I was to be a hero and go on a quest to save magic.

Nine Hells, where should I begin?

The image of two chairs and two figures flashed in my mind.

Magic. Po.

Protect Po.

Did the kid have something to do with this? Why was I to protect him? Was I on two quests? If I had to protect Po and save magic, I thought, I was going to need help. Sorry, Professor, but where there’s danger, there’s Whiskey Danger.

The rest of the morning’s sessions came and went without much fanfare, and my mind occupied itself with my two new quests. A third thought kept impeding my progress, however. Suddenly Iris was all I could think about. Ridhan simply could not be courting her. Could it be for political reasons? Could her family have pushed her to do so? Why would a family as high as the Shipwights court a family as low as the Kentaros? As progressive as Starfall may have been within the South or even Soraya, there was still a good amount of joining of families through marriage. But that wasn’t the Iris I knew.

Maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought.

The rest of the day passed without notice, the only thing on my mind being Iris. Even with the allure of my magical quest, she was all I could think about. As I sat in our study session, a beam of light shone through the colored glass in the study hall. The light softened to a color reminiscent of this morning’s walk through Starfall. That seemed so long ago, and yet only hours had passed. Everything was different now. Iris was different.

Or was she? Maybe I could save her.

“So, the Second Elven War is what ultimately led to...” Roc fished while I stared absentmindedly at the wall.

“The Uprising,” I stated, uninterested.

“Well, yeah of course,” Roc retorted. “Then the Battle of the Blood-Red Moon was...”

“Between the vampires and the werewolves.”

“I knew that,” Roc replied, scribbling furiously onto his parchment.

“Don’t forget about the Giant Riot, you’ll get higher marks,” I added as Roc continued to scribble away.

“How do you remember all this?” I smiled and he rolled his eyes. “Never mind. Why is it again you’re not doing this?” Roc sighed, admiring his shoddy but complete coursework.

“I was given a special assignment by Lortho. I’ll tell you about it later,” I replied. A large bell from the center of the Institute rang once more, signaling the end of the day.

Roc hurriedly shoved his parchment into my pack. “See you at practice? I need to pick something up from the armory.”

I grabbed my belongings, joining the sea of students as I navigated the hallways, dreaming of a world where Iris and I could be together... and the Nine once again heard my thoughts.

“Oliver! Oliver! Wait up!” a voice yelled at me, snapping me out of my daydream. I turned to see Iris approaching quickly, books in hand, words flooding from her mouth as if they must leave or forever be held captive. “Oliver, hi, I’m sorry about this morning and everything. I’d been meaning to tell you about Ridhan but you were away and I was here and... I’m sorry.” She dropped her gaze to the floor when I tried to answer her, but my words caught as my throat seized, my breath frozen tight.

She continued softly. “I was wondering if you could stop by the Shears on your way home today. I have a book I think you’d like. Honestly, I know I shouldn’t bother you with it, but you’re the only person who I think can help...”

I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the conversation. She was asking me for help. She needed help. I could help her. By the Nine, I wasn’t crazy. I could save her! This would be my third quest! Protect Po, save magic, rescue Iris. If they didn’t write books about me in the future, it would be a shame. I felt blood rushing to my cheeks.

She continued, almost apologetically. “It’s been a long time. It’s just... Well, anyway. I know how much you like to read. Well, insomuch that the rumor is that you’ve read almost half the books and scrolls in the Shears. Which I find hard to believe, by the way, given the amount of time that would take.” She giggled, music to my hopeful ears, but stopped suddenly. The pause was enough for my mind to react, and I wasn’t quick enough to hide my sadness.

“But I’m rambling. Am I rambling? Oh Nine, I feel like this used to be easier. This used to be easier, didn’t it?”

With my throat still seized, I stood in awestruck silence, absolutely no help to the conversation. She gently touched my shoulder and then pulled away. The entire exchange was more awkward than anything I had ever experienced.

What was wrong with me?!

“Is this weird? Sorry. Ah. Okay. Well... anyway. If you’re free, do you think you could stop by?”

My mouth opened but the only words I could muster were, “To help you...”

“Right, to help me, with a book.”

“Oh, right, the book,” I replied sheepishly, all the while running through every possible scenario leading to her dumping Ridhan and running off with me. Iris looked around, embarrassment washing over her beautiful face.

“If you’re busy, I suppose I could—”

“No!” I yelled, forgetting normal human speech at that moment. An orc would have addressed her like that, and in all my swirling emotion that’s what I was, an orc: loud, dumb, and obnoxious, just as Steward Balon described them in his histories. Iris was giving me the opportunity I had dreamt of; all I needed was to take hold.

“I’m sorry, Iris, I meant no, you’re not rambling. You’re fine, in fact, you’re great! I mean... Okay, stop.” I fought to control my breath and catch my tongue. “I have practice now, with Whiskey Danger.” I struggled with my conflicting thoughts, desperate to communicate. “I can absolutely stop by after... around dusk? I missed you...”

She stared blankly at me. “Sounds... good, it’s a date!” she said apprehensively, awkwardly patting my shoulder. Her brow furrowed, and I felt her hand leave my shoulder as she turned to walk away.

A date?!

She quickly escaped from sight as I stood, hopeful for the future. I was gazing longingly down the hall after her when my thoughts were rudely interrupted by a hand on my shoulder and a swift fist to my stomach. I groaned, folding over in pain, not too surprised to hear Ridhan’s voice address me coldly.

“Tck-tck-tck, hello, Q.”

I quickly ran through my options, the urge to run out of the building prevailing. But I didn’t run. Instead, the internal voice from that morning stopped me. It was as if every courageous fiber in my soul was forcing me to confront this challenge head-on.

Ridhan stood not an inch from my face. He was handsome enough, but his true disposition had grown into his expression, souring his overall appearance. We had known each other all our lives, and I had seen him grow from a kind and caring child to the bully he was today. At one point, I would have even counted us as friends, but those days were long ago. Maybe my friend was still inside, deep within the mask he now wore. A mask of terror and power and privilege. I would have been lying if I didn’t say I missed him.

Was this another quest? Redeem Ridhan? How many quests could I take on in one day?

He paced around me, measuring my defiance with his eyes as I gained my composure. Few people ever stood up to Ridhan, his family name and innumerable lackeys affording him his boorish, self-serving attitude. The bully sauntered back around to face me, his cackling laugh echoed by his encircling Sharks.

With the characteristic clicking of his tongue, Ridhan continued his heavy-handed torment. “Tck-tck-tck. It’s funny, you know, my Q? You and I, we are so much the same. The prospects of our names, stations, our futures, all wrapped up in tiny little boxes, sitting in wait under our childhood beds as we fly high above those who do not understand.”

Apparently when Reagan had said people had changed, she must have meant Ridhan as well. He had developed his “ticking” sound a few years back, but this nonsense he was rambling on about was a new development. I leave for a few months and all of a sudden everything has turned upside down. But what game was he trying to play, and how could I gain the upper hand? I let him continue, trying to anticipate where the conversation was going.

“Tck-tck-tck... but alas, my earthbound friend, you once again disappoint me. I should string you up and let you bake in the sun for how you touched me this morning!” His voice curdled in rage but just as quickly settled into a hint of glee. “Such a curious thing I saw.”

“You spat on my friend.”

“Ah yes, the gutter rabbit. He deserved it, no? Imagine retaining that pitiful existence when you could actually be useful as... fish food.”

At his final hiss, three of the Sharks moved swiftly, pushing me onto my knees and pinning me motionless. Ridhan bent slightly, looking me directly in the eyes.

“I could kill you now, you know. As easy as an accident...”

This was new. I had never known Ridhan to talk like this, let alone act like this. His eyes were wide and soulless, a dark husk of the boy he used to be. Yet maybe, just maybe there was a hint of light still inside him. If I could appeal to that, maybe I could get out of this situation unscathed. Ridhan may have been lost, but that didn’t have to mean forever. He snapped his fingers and I was released.

He laughed heartily and his Sharks followed suit. “I jest, my love, I jest. Or do I? Who is to say? Minds are so easily changed these days.”

Was he rhyming now?

The situation was getting away from me. He was winning his game, and if I kept playing, I was afraid of what the outcome might be. I needed to change the rules of engagement.

My eyes closed briefly; something in my chest burned hot and bright as if to counter the cold abyss that had taken hold of Ridhan’s soul. Without warning, my world stood still and my mind entered the familiar patterns of my Carpenter fighter training as I took a survey of my environment.

Four Sharks, Ridhan, three students passing by... Target Makolio first, sweep the leg and throw him into Baskin, neutralizing them both. Dodge under Lemond’s haymaker punch, his forward stumble revealing Porbea, and throw him into the passersby. Head kick to Lemond, use Baskin’s momentum to snap his wrist out of a grapple, relieve Makolio of the knife on his back, target Ridhan.

In one swift blur of motion, I was holding the tip of Makolio’s knife to the point of Ridhan’s nose as a sinister grin of amusement grew over his face.

“You might want to rethink who you threaten, Shipwight,” I hissed, watching as Ridhan brought a single finger to the blade, drawing it across the well-honed edge until he drew blood. He pulled his left heel backward, stepping away slightly as he licked the blood from his finger.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you, my Q. I promised my Iris I wouldn’t hurt you, my sweet. However, that promise does not extend to any of your little friends.”

“Ridhan, if you lay a finger on—”

“You’ll what? Accidents happen all the time. This city is a dangerous place, after all. The Narrows are full of all sorts of unsavory types.”

My heart fell from my ribs and, ceding my pride, I strove to safeguard Whiskey Danger’s future. “What do you want?”

“Your Shield of Kandaheart,” he said coolly and quickly, sending my mind into scrambles. The shield was a simple family heirloom, generations old. It was as much a part of my family as the Forge or Anvil, treasured by my family as little more than an ornament; it didn’t even technically work as a shield. Yet, what cost was too great to assure the safety of my friends, my brothers?

I sighed in defeat. “You’ll leave them alone?”

“Well,” Ridhan replied, a sickening smile overtaking his pale features, “I will not go out of my way to hurt them, which you know I so badly want to do. I cannot, however, guarantee that upon meeting your destitute friend in the joust, he will leave the field of his own accord.” Every word Ridhan spat struck me as if laced with poison, but his arrogance had left me the opening I was waiting for.

Maybe I could win this game.

“I hadn’t realized you were competing at Homecoming this year, Ridhan. Let’s raise the stakes.” Never one to falter in the face of a challenge, Ridhan seemed enticed, but I needed to assure his contemptible cooperation. “If you win, I’ll hand over my family’s shield and your family’s Staff of the Seas. You know, the one that currently resides in my father’s armory. If Roc wins, you leave them alone. And Iris. Unless you don’t think you can beat him. He is the reigning champion, after all.”

“Goading me, Q? Tck-tck-tck. I expected more than that from you, but I have to admit, I am intrigued. That staff hasn’t seen my house since...” He looked me over, clearly questioning my motives. Curiously, he seemed not to care about the second part of the wager, the one concerning Iris. Maybe their relationship wasn’t that strong, and I could figure out a way to her.

“You have yourself a deal. I will not touch your little friends until the Homecoming Tournament. When I win—and I will win, my dear, sweet Q—I expect the Shield of Kandaheart and my family’s staff.” As if an afterthought, he added with a hiss, “Oh, and when I win, I think I’ll be killing all your friends as well, including the little one my Iris is so fond of. And I will finally have you all to myself.”

The terror in my stomach was palpable, but I saw no solution. Was he joking as before, or was this threat serious? Should I trust this madman? At this point, I had no choice. I had to trust him.

“And what of Iris?” I demanded.

He looked at me, calculating. “She is mine.” He was clearly relishing the moment. “But if I lose, she is yours.” He walked closer, looking me up and down before resting his hand on my shoulder. “Sweet, simple Q. I doubt you’ll want her though...” His last words were punctuated by a sharp pinch of my cheek. He smiled, drawing his tongue across his lips. Immediate nausea took me over. Nine Hells, what did I just agree to?

As Ridhan and his faithful peons walked out of sight, I struggled to understand all that had transpired, thinking about what would happen to all of us if Roc didn’t win this autumn. Then I heard his telltale shuffling footsteps behind me.

“What are you still doing here?” Roc asked, oblivious to the stakes we were now playing for. My newest quest wasn’t that of redeeming Ridhan but rather saving my friends. Not wanting to read him into the current circumstances, I deflected.

“Nice helmet!” He had donned his newly feathered jousting helmet, and inspired by his focus, I spared him the turmoil eating away at my mind.

Protect Po. Save Magic. Rescue Iris. Save my friends.

“Let’s get to practice, Roc. You’re going to need it.”