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What about happiness? What if somebody has the mind of a child? I wanted to ask so many questions, but Maister Calum's sharp and furrowing brow was on full display. The hairs on my skin were rising by the second, so I couldn't help but pause before raising my hand. When Maister Calum saw me this time, his serious expression turned to pity. He decided to let me speak.
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"Maister, how do you stop a demon that spawns from pure fear?"
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The resentment in the Maister’s eyes spoke on his behalf. I should not have asked that. Nevertheless, I could hear everybody lean forward in their seats, as curious about the answer as I. It’s probably why, folding his calloused hands behind his back, Calum answered in one word.
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"Sacrifice."
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Do I even want to know what that means?
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"If you're curious," he resumed, casually ambling down the steps, "you can ask Magister Elrik. I've been around the world, fought in two wars, and have met none more fitting to impart a lesson of sacrifice. Not that he would do so of his own accord."
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Wow, you wouldn't think that just by talking to Professor Elrik.
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"But enough! Demons are not indigenous to the imperium, thankfully, and, therefore, make for rare encounters. Very few mandates lead a men face to face with a demon in the hot flesh, be they imperial magisters, Hierophants, or Seraphs. If you suffer the terminal misfortune of a demonic encounter, then I advise you run and pray to Heodr that it’s quick."
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Maister Calum's morbid sense of humor suddenly rattled through in his laugh. I didn't understand. I know what it's like to be chased, to stare death in the face. The fear still works in my veins and reignites old wounds. But I couldn’t tell if the pain came from the wound or my head. And yet, I am sure the thing that had me in its maw that night would pale in comparison to a real-life demon.
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Our dauntless instructor, standing at the bottom of the marble steps, recommenced his lecture when his expression turned to stone. "Ideally, you would all seek high marks on the magister’s path, to build fulfilling lives as scholars. Some of you will succeed. Those found wanting shall find humble but fulfilling trades, arcane or otherwise, in the imperium. The greater your aptitude, the brighter your path. Artificers, emissaries, maisters, no more than sprites without mara. Would you believe, without mara and miners, we Maisters would be impotent menaces in caves? A little worse than the classroom wretches we are now.”
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The classroom swelled with laughter.
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I caught his meaning! Mara is raw magic, a substance that forms volatile crystals. Once refined, they provide the energy to power spells. The more skilled the Magister, the more they can do with a single drop. And it’s not just a mineral you find in caves. It’s in the very air we breathe.
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To be an emissary, that was my dream… To be an artisan, a mercenary, or tradesman, I’m not sure how I felt about that. Maybe nothing. There was no other option. How naïve. But what the hell is a Seraph? I thought.
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Before I knew it, class was over. Reviewing, reviewing, I thought about the veil between our dreams and the real world. Basically, a sorcerer can hurt that boundary by... introducing fear? Into a victim? It's worse when a child is involved. By the end of Calum’s lesson, I wanted to stay and ask a question that had been burning in the back of my head.
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Like a distorted march, their cuffed heels clamored over the stairs. By the glass window, I could tell the sun paralleled the horizon. Daylight, the capricious resource. Though it was the final lecture of the day, I had every intention of continuing this lesson in the library. It wasn’t over.
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The last flood fled the hall of judgment and anxiety. I was alone. Who else was disturbed by the reality of demons? Just me? When everyone is so eager to leave, it seems as if their mind has already moved from the lesson. To me, knowledge isn’t something that should port into a recess of your brain. It should sit at the forefront for a moment.
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Then I froze. I saw Warren seated. A casual and pensive, handsom fance had no intention of leaving. What does this mean? I thought. Did we share a curiosity? Is this destiny? Turning my head, I realized, no, it wasn't meant to be. Blonde madame Goireman was still situated in the row behind me. So, I took a guess and deduced that she might not be smarter than me. What was she waiting for?
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When I turned my head, I noticed another one, another two. Four. There were four other students who had stayed behind at the end of class. And they were waiting patiently. Did they need help, or did something stoke their curiosity? Was everyone present present for the same reason?
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A loud clamp made me flinch out of my thoughts. I saw Maister Calum below, behind his desk of magical ornaments, tome in hand. What an ominous countenance, a face so mysterious it was all I could think about. Those dark and silvery eyes steered expectantly.
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"So..." he began huskily. "I can tell that I have piqued your interest." A demonic expression deepened his features, sinister even for a teacher. He absorbed all five of us with his steely gaze. "Well, let us not beat the stray. Come, sit closer. I shan’t hex you, but I cannot promise anything else."
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Did he expect this turnout? I wasted no time. Just as I stood up and approached, so too did Warren reach the end of his aisle. How nervous I felt, lamely stepping down. He was on the precipice of the aisle, and so was I. And as soon as emerald jewels rolled my way, I froze. What followed was a fantastically awkward stare that didn't feel so bad since I could see the beautiful forest in his eyes.
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"Are you just going to stand there?" he asked.
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Dammit. "Lady's first,” I said. Now, I intended that as jest, but he stared for a few seconds after that. Then a sly smirk curved his cheek.
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"Indeed.”
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I stepped right past him, attempting to look as lively as I may. He waited while I withheld the urge to glance at his beautiful locks.
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Two free seats waited for us in front of Maister Calum; neither would place me next to Warren. One was next to her. Accepting my lot, I sat next to her, lest she and Warren become rump buddies. Nope. I refused. When I finally took my seat, she spared a glance before looking down at my cast. Not today, I told her in my mind. From her eyes, down to her little, pointy nose, I sensed her urge to scoff. Was she going to do it? Do it! I dare you!
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Nope, she whisked her attention back to Maister Calum. And as soon as Warren too his seat, our scary instructor lowered his venerable gaze unto us. Us five students. I could hardly look at his face for fear of looking into his eyes. Yet I did. In them, there was an echo of horror from past, and that’s when I blinked away. I had only meant to stay and ask a single question, so why did we all have to gather in front of his accursed desk? I think it was literally cursed.
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"You are here because you seek extra-curricular lessons. Demons, dragons, seraphs..." Maister Calum had much to say, and his words underpinned a grim reality that kept you too sober to sleep. But I never grasped the full impact of that evening lesson until much, much later.
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