The pages of the spellbook trembled in Denryn's hands. He couldn't tell if it was the power of the spell trying to burst free of the inscription or if it was because of his nerves. While he'd like to think it was a little of both, he knew that it was mostly his fault. It always was. That was why he stood here now, in the dusty, moldy, creepy backroom of the Director's Office, holding the thieved spellbook, and trying to convince himself that it was okay, that though it might be wrong to steal, break into the Director's Office, open forbidden spellwork, and invoke dark powers he scarcely understood, it was also wrong to be picked on by the boys, sneered at by the girls, ignored by the teachers, and blamed by the rest of the staff for behaving in a "Manner Unbecoming a Spellist--Novice Class." So far as Denryn was concerned, the two more than balanced each other out.
Thinking of those ills led him to consider what he held in his hands now: A way of balancing the scales, of forcing his shoes onto others' feet so that they could walk that obligatory mile. It was justice, that's what it was. No doubt about it.
He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth. He could hardly think for the pounding in his head, to say nothing of the tempest in his chest.
"It's all right," he said aloud to himself, his voice disturbing the dust and the spiderwebs but little else. "It'll be worth it."
Summoning his courage--one attribute that, in his storied opinion, he regularly failed at--he drew in a breath and read the incantation aloud. Once he stumbled--almost stumbled, rather--on a tricky diphthong, but he recovered soon enough that it (probably) wouldn't affect the strength of the binding on the Evanescence he was now invoking.
He read the last words and urged his essence into the inscription--the fundamental action of a Spellist, regardless of whether or not one was Novice Class or Master-Adept--and held his breath.
The spell resolved almost instantly. Dark smoke billowed out from the script, spilling over the edges and pouring through his fingers. An icy chill formed in the air, as sharp and furious as any winter's wind. He could hold his breath no longer; a white plume streamed from his mouth as he fought against the urge to shiver.
He also fought against the urge to shriek when a taloned, skeletal hand burst out from the center of the spellbook, reaching upwards and curling toward him like an anxious cat's paw in a mousehole. Just before the sharp tip could connect with him, a burst of light, centered on the talon, stopped the finger's descent.
His binding held.
It took all of his resolution not to let out a sigh of relief. Bindings were the next step--first, transferring one's essence; second, how to prevent the invoked being from going on a rampage through the physical brane by consistent use of bindings--and he had always been pretty good at those.
The light seemed to hurt the talon, as it retracted as though burned. The hand stretched upwards, and silvery filaments began drifting toward the ceiling. They coalesced in a bunch, then went taut as the Evanescence used the filamental light to pull itself up and out of the spellbook.
Denryn swallowed hard as the Evanescence emerged. Skeletal was the best term, as it had no skin, no organs…just wisps of hair on a head that was not human, fangs that were bestial, and sharpness at every edge, from the tips of its spine to the points of its elbows. Saliva--at least, it looked like saliva--dripped from the fanged mouth in long strands that connected to those which held it up, almost like a marionette's strings.
The air contracted with an even colder twinge. Denryn resisted the urge to shudder.
When the Evanescence spoke, he could not keep it in any longer, and his body convulsed with fear at the sound. "Why have you brought me here, youngling?" To say that nails on slate, shrieking children, and scrapped glass combined compared to its voice, it would drastically under-explain its unpleasantness. It was all Denryn could do to keep his bladder under control. He stared in wide-eyed disbelief and terror.
"You summoned me," hissed the Evanescence. "Explain."
Denryn tried to talk, but it came out as a moan.
The Evanescence laughed, which was--somehow--even worse than when it spoke. "You are a youngling, aren't you? Yes, I suppose that makes sense. Where are we?"
Denryn shook but managed to squeak out, "I shan't tell."
"Oh, shan't you?" The Evanescence looked about, its empty sockets somehow conveying the impression that it was carefully analyzing each corner of the cramped backroom. "Well, I have to say that it has been some time since I was in the Director's Office. Tell me, has Director Kensington resigned?"
"I've never heard of him."
"Her. And that tells me a great deal, Novice Class, whether you meant it to or not."
Denryn swallowed again. Already he'd given the Evanescence more information than he'd intended, which was the third step--"Don't tell them anything"--cleanly violated.
He was starting to regret his decision.
"But, tell me, Novice Class--"
"I'm not." It surprised the Evanescence that he interrupted; it surprised him even more. Clearing his throat, he said, "I'm not. A Novice Class, I mean."
The laughter returned. He kept a grip on the spellbook, but he wished that he could have clapped his hands over his ears instead. (Dropping the spellbook would have ruined the fifth step, Maintain contact with the Source.)
"You may not have known Director Kensington, youngling, but I know human fashion. You wear the same colors as every Novice Classman has since, oh, I don't know, the reign of Augustus. Yes, the cut has changed--one must have some variety, I allow--but the colors? They are as unchanged as human hubris." It traced a talon against the binding, causing streams of light to eject out of it. The smell of burning and flashes of heat cut through the cold.
"S-stop that!"
"Oh? Does it bother you?" The Evanescence tapped its talons in a grating sort of rhythm against the binding. "I'm so sorry. Terribly rude of me."
"I said stop it!"
"Tell me why you summoned me, Novice Class, and I shall."
"I want ven…justice."
If the Evanescence had had eyebrows, one would have quirked at this. Another glob of saliva dribbled from its fanged-but-otherwise-empty mouth. "Venjustice? Is that a new dance move?"
Denryn blinked. Had an Evanescence just told a joke? His instructors had pulled a handful of entities into the classroom since he'd arrived at the Academy five months ago, so he knew that they came in all shapes, forms, and levels of power. But did they come with a sense of humor?
"Look, kid," said the Evanescence, propping itself up on an elbow with one clawed hand and setting the other on its hip, which was scarcely formed just above the book. "I can see that you're in way over your head. And while it is the inherent nature of an Evanescence to attempt to escape from whatever binding has them fastened in the physical brane, I'll cut you a touch of slack and give you a chance to back down now."
Denryn shuddered, as much from the cold as the sudden change in attitude of the Evanescence. Even the voice was different--no longer grating and unsettling, it was instead raspy and tired, like an actor who'd done too many hours playing a villain and now just wanted to rest at the pub and kick his feet up.
"You want, what was it…vengeance?"
"Justice," Denryn whispered.
"Right." The Evanescence drew in a deep breath (strange, as it had no lungs), then blew it out. A scent of death and rot tickled Denryn's nose and he suppressed a sneeze. "Justice." The Evanescence shook its head, sending the spectral saliva swinging this way and that. "Heard that one before. I don't want to sound arrogant or anything, but this is rather embarrassing for both of us. You are in way over your head, I'm actually in the middle of something in my own brane and would very much like to get back to it. So, if you'd be so kind, could you just…you know…dismiss me? We'll forget this whole episode happened--you'll go back to your Novice Classmates and pretend that you hadn't almost introduced the Evanescence of Death into their midst and I'll return to my own business. How does that sound?"
Denryn shook his head. None of the Evanescences that his professors had shown him had been quite this cocky, but they all were crafty. Being a Spellist was as much about being clever as knowing how to correctly pronounce pusillanimous. No Evanescence wanted to be on the physical brane--it was unpleasant for all and for some it was agonizing--so they were highly motivated to trick their way out of a binding. The trick, of course, was to get them to do the Spellist's bidding before they were released. Doing that, Denryn had always thought, ought to be rather simple. Now that he was faced with the Evanescence of Death--perhaps the most powerful of all entities--he felt the dizzying slip of uncertainty in the back of his mind.
The Evanescence of Death idly drummed its fingers against its arm. "Here's the thing: I already know about all I need to know to get out of your bindings. It's not just your colors that told me you barely know what you're doing." It flicked the binding--not a tentative scratch, as it had done before, but an aggressive gesture--and Denryn's binding crackled. "A couple more of those and I'd be out. Not only that, you brought me back to a place that I'm familiar with. All I needed was to conjure your name out of you or get you to say your forbidden word and I would be free that way, too. Brute force or trickery, either would have worked."
Denryn gritted his teeth as a flash of irritation crashed over him. How dare the Evanescence speak in such a cavalier way? It was like how his classmates treated him: A fool and an embarrassment. "You would not have gotten either of those things from me?"
"I bet I would have."
"Never!" He could feel the heat on his cheeks rising. He had been careful not to bring in any of his school books that contained his name in them, as Evanescences could peer through layers of physical matter, if they cared to.
"Certainly."
"No!"
"I bet I still could, if I wanted to."
"I'd never let it happen." Now his blood was coursing through him, anger pushing away the cold and the fear.
"Well, we can place a bet. Give me your forbidden word and let's see if I can get you to say it."
Denryn smirked. "Nice try. I'm not going to say it."
The Evanescence of Death waved an airy hand. "You already did."
Denryn froze. Had he? He mentally scrambled through their conversation. Had he let it slip on accident? "N-no I didn't."
"Just now."
"What?"
The Evanescence gestured at him. "'Happen'."
"What? That's not my word!"
"Oh?" it said with the condescending tone of a smug, doubting professor.
In a burst of irritation, he shouted, "It's conveyance, you twit!"
The Evanescence made an apologetic gesture. "My apologies, Novice Class Denryn, I meant no dishonor. You are correct: You did not tell me your forbidden word…what was it again? Disheveled?"
Denryn laughed. At first, he'd been worried about having actually made the mistake of saying it. Indeed, it had slipped out, but the foolish Evanescence had missed it. Lucky, he knew; perhaps this brane was painful enough that the Evanescence of Death couldn't concentrate whilst here? "No, not quite. Good try though."
"Well, you know, it was worth a shot, eh Denryn?"
Denryn chuckled again, only to have the laughter go sour on his tongue. "H-h-how did you…?"
The Evanescence of Death smirked--a movement that should have been impossible, considering the fact that it didn't have any skin or muscles--and reached out with a talon. "I have some advice for you, Novice Class." The air where the binding should have stopped its claw crinkled, then snapped. "Conveyance. Denryn. Drawnlin Academy. Director's Office." The icy coldness of the room somehow amplified as the binding unraveled like a twist of silk.
Nerveless fingers dropped the spellbook, which thumped to the floor as the Evanescence of Death fully extricated itself and took a step toward him. Denryn stared, his body paralyzed by the cold and the fear. The Evanescence had stated everything it needed to break free of all but the most powerful bindings--and Denryn's talent at binding wasn't sufficient to satisfy that criterion--and was now standing in front of him, the tendrils of light that looked like strings attaching themselves to its arms and head. Wisps of hair floated about its sharp jaws.
"Here's the advice--" and it leaned in closer to Denryn's ear. When it spoke, Denryn saw flashes of the coldness of the grave, of the insanity-making void, his insignificance and the vastness of reality that mattered without him crashing into his mind like the enormousness of an ocean swell over a schooner.
A tear traced down his frigid face.
"Don't write your name on your underwear."
Heat--the only heat he'd felt in what must have been a few minutes but felt like days--bloomed inside of his stomach. He tried to gasp, but a lightning strike of pain kept his breath at bay. He glanced down at the ephemeral talons buried in his guts.
"You know, since you've been so kind, I think I may stay a bit. My business in another brane can stand to wait."
The Evanescence of Death removed its claws with a wet, rending sound to accompany it. Denryn dropped to the ground, his vision dimming as his blood poured from the massive gashes. The pain receded as the Evanescence walked over him.
"Thanks again, Denryn," said the Evanescence of Death, stopping at the door and looking over its shoulder at the dying boy. "I'll be sure to visit justice on those who hurt you. And, since I don't know who that may be, I'll assume that it's everyone in the world."
Denryn's last thought as the grinding sound of the Evanescence's departing laughter tore into the final vestiges of his consciousness was this: I shouldn't have made such a rookie mistake.
Thinking of those ills led him to consider what he held in his hands now: A way of balancing the scales, of forcing his shoes onto others' feet so that they could walk that obligatory mile. It was justice, that's what it was. No doubt about it.
He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth. He could hardly think for the pounding in his head, to say nothing of the tempest in his chest.
"It's all right," he said aloud to himself, his voice disturbing the dust and the spiderwebs but little else. "It'll be worth it."
Summoning his courage--one attribute that, in his storied opinion, he regularly failed at--he drew in a breath and read the incantation aloud. Once he stumbled--almost stumbled, rather--on a tricky diphthong, but he recovered soon enough that it (probably) wouldn't affect the strength of the binding on the Evanescence he was now invoking.
He read the last words and urged his essence into the inscription--the fundamental action of a Spellist, regardless of whether or not one was Novice Class or Master-Adept--and held his breath.
The spell resolved almost instantly. Dark smoke billowed out from the script, spilling over the edges and pouring through his fingers. An icy chill formed in the air, as sharp and furious as any winter's wind. He could hold his breath no longer; a white plume streamed from his mouth as he fought against the urge to shiver.
He also fought against the urge to shriek when a taloned, skeletal hand burst out from the center of the spellbook, reaching upwards and curling toward him like an anxious cat's paw in a mousehole. Just before the sharp tip could connect with him, a burst of light, centered on the talon, stopped the finger's descent.
His binding held.
It took all of his resolution not to let out a sigh of relief. Bindings were the next step--first, transferring one's essence; second, how to prevent the invoked being from going on a rampage through the physical brane by consistent use of bindings--and he had always been pretty good at those.
The light seemed to hurt the talon, as it retracted as though burned. The hand stretched upwards, and silvery filaments began drifting toward the ceiling. They coalesced in a bunch, then went taut as the Evanescence used the filamental light to pull itself up and out of the spellbook.
Denryn swallowed hard as the Evanescence emerged. Skeletal was the best term, as it had no skin, no organs…just wisps of hair on a head that was not human, fangs that were bestial, and sharpness at every edge, from the tips of its spine to the points of its elbows. Saliva--at least, it looked like saliva--dripped from the fanged mouth in long strands that connected to those which held it up, almost like a marionette's strings.
The air contracted with an even colder twinge. Denryn resisted the urge to shudder.
When the Evanescence spoke, he could not keep it in any longer, and his body convulsed with fear at the sound. "Why have you brought me here, youngling?" To say that nails on slate, shrieking children, and scrapped glass combined compared to its voice, it would drastically under-explain its unpleasantness. It was all Denryn could do to keep his bladder under control. He stared in wide-eyed disbelief and terror.
"You summoned me," hissed the Evanescence. "Explain."
Denryn tried to talk, but it came out as a moan.
The Evanescence laughed, which was--somehow--even worse than when it spoke. "You are a youngling, aren't you? Yes, I suppose that makes sense. Where are we?"
Denryn shook but managed to squeak out, "I shan't tell."
"Oh, shan't you?" The Evanescence looked about, its empty sockets somehow conveying the impression that it was carefully analyzing each corner of the cramped backroom. "Well, I have to say that it has been some time since I was in the Director's Office. Tell me, has Director Kensington resigned?"
"I've never heard of him."
"Her. And that tells me a great deal, Novice Class, whether you meant it to or not."
Denryn swallowed again. Already he'd given the Evanescence more information than he'd intended, which was the third step--"Don't tell them anything"--cleanly violated.
He was starting to regret his decision.
"But, tell me, Novice Class--"
"I'm not." It surprised the Evanescence that he interrupted; it surprised him even more. Clearing his throat, he said, "I'm not. A Novice Class, I mean."
The laughter returned. He kept a grip on the spellbook, but he wished that he could have clapped his hands over his ears instead. (Dropping the spellbook would have ruined the fifth step, Maintain contact with the Source.)
"You may not have known Director Kensington, youngling, but I know human fashion. You wear the same colors as every Novice Classman has since, oh, I don't know, the reign of Augustus. Yes, the cut has changed--one must have some variety, I allow--but the colors? They are as unchanged as human hubris." It traced a talon against the binding, causing streams of light to eject out of it. The smell of burning and flashes of heat cut through the cold.
"S-stop that!"
"Oh? Does it bother you?" The Evanescence tapped its talons in a grating sort of rhythm against the binding. "I'm so sorry. Terribly rude of me."
"I said stop it!"
"Tell me why you summoned me, Novice Class, and I shall."
"I want ven…justice."
If the Evanescence had had eyebrows, one would have quirked at this. Another glob of saliva dribbled from its fanged-but-otherwise-empty mouth. "Venjustice? Is that a new dance move?"
Denryn blinked. Had an Evanescence just told a joke? His instructors had pulled a handful of entities into the classroom since he'd arrived at the Academy five months ago, so he knew that they came in all shapes, forms, and levels of power. But did they come with a sense of humor?
"Look, kid," said the Evanescence, propping itself up on an elbow with one clawed hand and setting the other on its hip, which was scarcely formed just above the book. "I can see that you're in way over your head. And while it is the inherent nature of an Evanescence to attempt to escape from whatever binding has them fastened in the physical brane, I'll cut you a touch of slack and give you a chance to back down now."
Denryn shuddered, as much from the cold as the sudden change in attitude of the Evanescence. Even the voice was different--no longer grating and unsettling, it was instead raspy and tired, like an actor who'd done too many hours playing a villain and now just wanted to rest at the pub and kick his feet up.
"You want, what was it…vengeance?"
"Justice," Denryn whispered.
"Right." The Evanescence drew in a deep breath (strange, as it had no lungs), then blew it out. A scent of death and rot tickled Denryn's nose and he suppressed a sneeze. "Justice." The Evanescence shook its head, sending the spectral saliva swinging this way and that. "Heard that one before. I don't want to sound arrogant or anything, but this is rather embarrassing for both of us. You are in way over your head, I'm actually in the middle of something in my own brane and would very much like to get back to it. So, if you'd be so kind, could you just…you know…dismiss me? We'll forget this whole episode happened--you'll go back to your Novice Classmates and pretend that you hadn't almost introduced the Evanescence of Death into their midst and I'll return to my own business. How does that sound?"
Denryn shook his head. None of the Evanescences that his professors had shown him had been quite this cocky, but they all were crafty. Being a Spellist was as much about being clever as knowing how to correctly pronounce pusillanimous. No Evanescence wanted to be on the physical brane--it was unpleasant for all and for some it was agonizing--so they were highly motivated to trick their way out of a binding. The trick, of course, was to get them to do the Spellist's bidding before they were released. Doing that, Denryn had always thought, ought to be rather simple. Now that he was faced with the Evanescence of Death--perhaps the most powerful of all entities--he felt the dizzying slip of uncertainty in the back of his mind.
The Evanescence of Death idly drummed its fingers against its arm. "Here's the thing: I already know about all I need to know to get out of your bindings. It's not just your colors that told me you barely know what you're doing." It flicked the binding--not a tentative scratch, as it had done before, but an aggressive gesture--and Denryn's binding crackled. "A couple more of those and I'd be out. Not only that, you brought me back to a place that I'm familiar with. All I needed was to conjure your name out of you or get you to say your forbidden word and I would be free that way, too. Brute force or trickery, either would have worked."
Denryn gritted his teeth as a flash of irritation crashed over him. How dare the Evanescence speak in such a cavalier way? It was like how his classmates treated him: A fool and an embarrassment. "You would not have gotten either of those things from me?"
"I bet I would have."
"Never!" He could feel the heat on his cheeks rising. He had been careful not to bring in any of his school books that contained his name in them, as Evanescences could peer through layers of physical matter, if they cared to.
"Certainly."
"No!"
"I bet I still could, if I wanted to."
"I'd never let it happen." Now his blood was coursing through him, anger pushing away the cold and the fear.
"Well, we can place a bet. Give me your forbidden word and let's see if I can get you to say it."
Denryn smirked. "Nice try. I'm not going to say it."
The Evanescence of Death waved an airy hand. "You already did."
Denryn froze. Had he? He mentally scrambled through their conversation. Had he let it slip on accident? "N-no I didn't."
"Just now."
"What?"
The Evanescence gestured at him. "'Happen'."
"What? That's not my word!"
"Oh?" it said with the condescending tone of a smug, doubting professor.
In a burst of irritation, he shouted, "It's conveyance, you twit!"
The Evanescence made an apologetic gesture. "My apologies, Novice Class Denryn, I meant no dishonor. You are correct: You did not tell me your forbidden word…what was it again? Disheveled?"
Denryn laughed. At first, he'd been worried about having actually made the mistake of saying it. Indeed, it had slipped out, but the foolish Evanescence had missed it. Lucky, he knew; perhaps this brane was painful enough that the Evanescence of Death couldn't concentrate whilst here? "No, not quite. Good try though."
"Well, you know, it was worth a shot, eh Denryn?"
Denryn chuckled again, only to have the laughter go sour on his tongue. "H-h-how did you…?"
The Evanescence of Death smirked--a movement that should have been impossible, considering the fact that it didn't have any skin or muscles--and reached out with a talon. "I have some advice for you, Novice Class." The air where the binding should have stopped its claw crinkled, then snapped. "Conveyance. Denryn. Drawnlin Academy. Director's Office." The icy coldness of the room somehow amplified as the binding unraveled like a twist of silk.
Nerveless fingers dropped the spellbook, which thumped to the floor as the Evanescence of Death fully extricated itself and took a step toward him. Denryn stared, his body paralyzed by the cold and the fear. The Evanescence had stated everything it needed to break free of all but the most powerful bindings--and Denryn's talent at binding wasn't sufficient to satisfy that criterion--and was now standing in front of him, the tendrils of light that looked like strings attaching themselves to its arms and head. Wisps of hair floated about its sharp jaws.
"Here's the advice--" and it leaned in closer to Denryn's ear. When it spoke, Denryn saw flashes of the coldness of the grave, of the insanity-making void, his insignificance and the vastness of reality that mattered without him crashing into his mind like the enormousness of an ocean swell over a schooner.
A tear traced down his frigid face.
"Don't write your name on your underwear."
Heat--the only heat he'd felt in what must have been a few minutes but felt like days--bloomed inside of his stomach. He tried to gasp, but a lightning strike of pain kept his breath at bay. He glanced down at the ephemeral talons buried in his guts.
"You know, since you've been so kind, I think I may stay a bit. My business in another brane can stand to wait."
The Evanescence of Death removed its claws with a wet, rending sound to accompany it. Denryn dropped to the ground, his vision dimming as his blood poured from the massive gashes. The pain receded as the Evanescence walked over him.
"Thanks again, Denryn," said the Evanescence of Death, stopping at the door and looking over its shoulder at the dying boy. "I'll be sure to visit justice on those who hurt you. And, since I don't know who that may be, I'll assume that it's everyone in the world."
Denryn's last thought as the grinding sound of the Evanescence's departing laughter tore into the final vestiges of his consciousness was this: I shouldn't have made such a rookie mistake.