The problem, I realized when walking down the halls, was that if I was recognized by even one person, they’d shout and let everyone know that I was going to explode. That wasn’t going to happen, especially on my first day. But reasonable and rational thoughts did not mix with fear.
As I walked back up the upside down staircase and entered a main corridor, I could hear the panic and shuffling of dozens of students. It was somewhat entertaining, but I could tell this was going to grow old quickly. I was isolated. At the very least, the other students were too scared of setting me off to risk flinging a spell or two my way. For now.
The school map, carved into a stone wall, showed all the official corridors that intertwined classrooms. To my dismay, the upper level courses were separated from the lower level classes, with only a long narrow bridge as a way to get to them. Without room to avoid me, I wasn’t sure what the other students would do. I needed to get to the makeup class that Rose worked at before it was entirely dismissed. I had plenty of time since my class lasted minutes, but the journey to upper divs was a long treacherous journey, for even the most faint of heart first years.
The journey started out easy enough. The large open spaces and well maintained flooring was something I enjoyed. It made it easy for me to reach the pavilion of study. However, just as I thought the journey couldn’t go smoother, a rock pelted my back.
“Get away from our classes, bomb!” shouted an older looking student, although his uniform suggested he was a first year.
“If you keep pelting me with rocks, you might set me off,” I warned him. It was a bluff.
“Like you’d explode on day one. I figure if we kill you now, you won’t kill all of us later. We’ll just have to take a ranged approach.”
“That’s against the student code of conduct,” I retorted.
“It’s not against the student code to defend yourself.”
“I haven’t done anything to you.”
“You’re an existential threat. Your very existence is something I need to defend myself from.”
As I looked around, I could see students coming around to the idea. While no one had yet stepped up to tear me limb from limb with telekinesis or sling spells at me, it was only a matter of time. Luckily, most new students had yet to learn to throw a fireball or vex me with a curse. I knew that I would have to act fast, if I was going to survive.
So I barreled towards the student, lept, unsheathed my knife, and pressed it against his neck.The student paled and began to nervously shake. A warm liquid dribbled from the lower half of his robes. Hopefully just water, I thought, as it pooled underneath my shoes.
“You can’t kill a fellow student. That’s, uh, against the code of conduct,” the student backtracked.
“I’m defending myself.”
“Er, well, I’m not going to kill you, so you can put down your knife.”
“You’re an existential threat to my life. The moment I let you go, I know you’ll try to throw more rocks at me.”
“Of course I will. But it’s unlikely that’ll be the one to take you out. Every student must rise up and play a part for the greater good!”
A crowd had formed and were jeering at me.
A short student with long blonde hair spoke up. There was malice in her eyes, as if she was looking at true evil. I was not that, but it was a hard thing for me to disprove when I had a knife pointed at a student's throat. However, if I wanted to grow my knife skills, eventually I’d have to learn knife diplomacy. First hand experience always leads to the best learning .
“Let Merkel's sacrifice not be in vain! Let's stone both of them!” said the short student.
“Now, hold on Freya. I don’t really want to die. Let's hear the Mana Battery out.” reasoned Merkel, who was persuaded by the knife I held to his throat.
“Do you not see, Merkel? Your life was forfeit the moment the Mana Battery touched you. Nice people don’t become Mana Batteries. Only serial killers do. What Mana Battery hasn’t chosen to explode, killing countless lives?”
The crowd murmured in agreement.
“What about innocence before proof of guilt?” I asked.
“That archaic form of belief isn't used in the Isles. Too many lives are lost catching the perpetrator after the fact. Catching them early is the best plan of action.” yelled someone else in the crowd.
“Now, hold on. What if I were to save more lives in my life than those I kill.”
“A fair defense, but we all know what you are, Mana Battery. Destruction incarnate.”
“Just hear me out. Maybe you haven't been putting mana batteries to their fullest potential. Why not drop me off in an old mine, and let my explosion clear away some rubble and unearth emeralds! You’d all get your stake of course, but I’d have to live for now.”
“Lies and Deceit!” shouted Freya.
“Lies and Deceit!” shouted the crowd.
“My life matters!” shouted Merkel.
I leaned in to whisper into Merkel’s ear.
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“Try and convince them that your life is worth more than my immediate death. We’ll back away slowly.”
Merkel gulped but gave the faintest of nods.
“Obviously this mana battery can’t be as bad as the last one. He’ll maybe kill one or two people max. I’m the grandson of Archmagus Magnus BrightStorm who saved countless lives by killing countless Markathian Pirates. With his heritage, I’m sure to do great things.”
“Yeah, but killing Markathian Pirates does little for us. The number one victim to a mana battery student aide is other students and student aides.” remarked someone from the crowd, as they shuffled to keep a constant distance that was not too close as to die in an explosion but close enough to maybe hurl rocks. None had dared hurl rocks yet.
“Look, I know in the short run, it may seem like Markathian Pirates are a distant threat. But think about it like this. You’re only a student for what? Four years give or take. Markathian Pirates are a constant threat that never goes away.”
“But what if I decide to become a professor? They’re the second highest likelihood of being exploded. They’ll have this threat well into their lifetime,” someone else from the crowd murmured.
“Ah, but think about all the bad professors who’ve gone up in smoke. I know a few good ones like Perior Pestorfoot and Drill Drillbeak were unfortunate victims, but imagine having to learn under the tutelage of Drox. Good riddance he got blown up.”
“Hey, Drox was a fine professor! Or so my parents say. It’s Drill Drillbeak who would cause maximum suffering!”
“Stands to reason that his death was worth something, then.”
“I, I suppose.”
“And if not all death is bad, some of it even being a force of good, then who are we to say that this mana battery doesn’t save the world.”
“From who? The other deserving students on this campus?” yelled another.
“Look, you don’t need to come to a conclusive decision today. Go back to your classes, back to your studies and when you feel wiser and older come back to make a decision.”
The crowd shuffled around looking at each other. They were conflicted, the fear of me warred with the guilt they felt for potentially killing Merkel. His arguments made sense. I sensed Merkel’s unease, though.
“Nonsense! Look at yourselves, fellow students. Clearly, Merkel has sided with evil and is now trying to lead you into your deaths. Do you have no regards for your own safety! Let's kill them both!” shouted Freya.
“Yes! For the good of the academy!” the students reverberated.
“I’m going to drop the knife and we’re going to run to the upper div bridge. Looks like they’ll kill both of us in their frenzy, I don’t want any funny business. Also, what does that Freya girl have against you?”
“My older brother married her sister. Now they don’t spend as much time together.”
I raised my eyebrows and sheathed the knife. I sprinted down the hallway. Merkel was faster than me, and seemed just as motivated to avoid the mob. Zigzagging through the unsuspecting students, we made our way to the large cavernous opening. It was the closest thing you’d get to being outside when you were deep within the underground.
The glass roof emitting light was nearly clear. Without color, it provided sun rays to the grass that shouldn’t have existed below the surface. Or maybe magic was used to keep the grass alive. Magic was definitely used to keep the large tree near the bridge alive. I could not remember a type of tree whose branches swung around without wind, picking up unsuspecting first years who attempted to cross the bridge to the upper divs. The tree gargled a sound that was reminiscent of a meaty muscle headed barbarian, rather than a being of sticks and twigs.
It was a seemingly narrow bridge, with anorexically thin stone support beams that traveled far below into the dark crevice. The bottomless void was a certain death for those who slipped over the edge. Or those who were pushed over the edge. Accidents did happen from time to time. ‘Accidents’ happened more frequently though.
I had no time to reason with the tree, so I bolted for the bridge. Maybe if I was fast enough, maybe I could outrun the moving branches reaching out to grasp me.
I was wrong. Something grabbed my shoe and pulled me upward, and flung me back towards the entrance of the bridge. As I picked myself up, I looked around. Merkel was gone.
“Shit.” I muttered, there was no way to get another hostage without Merkel here. The crowd had wisened up and wielded rocks, like pro rock wielders. Maybe this wasn’t the first time they’d stoned someone. At the very least, the guy third from the back had, with such a perfect stance and grip of the stone.
“Back up. I’ve still got my knife.”
“Didn’t they ever tell you, Mana Battery. Never bring a knife against a rock brigade.”
“Actually, no, I’ve never heard that.”
“Get into position!” shouted the short blonde, magic user, Freya.
“Wait! Can I get my final words?”
The crowd paused.
“Yes, but be quick about it. We only get fifteen minutes for our break period, and we’ve probably been chasing you for ten. Try to be more considerate the next time in your next life you interrupt our studies.” someone else from the crowd shouted.
“Well, thanks for this opportunity,” I said.
I paused to clear my throat, before I began to speak.
“First of all, I want to thank all of you for coming out here today. I know we’ve had our differences in the short time we’ve known each other. All ten minutes of our time. But in those ten minutes, I’ve gotten to know so much more about who you are as pe-“
“He's stalling so we’ll be late to class,” Freya interrupted me.
She was partially right. I was stalling, but the reason had less to do with making the other students late for class and more to do with wanting to maximize my life.
“At least let me thank my family, my friends and my mentors. You only die once so, I want to make sure I do it right.”
Freya harrumphed, while the crowd chattered their agreement. They weren’t monsters.
“Hurry it up,” said Freya.
“Ok. Well, I want to thank my family for raising someone who was as cool and deserving as me. I’d like to thank my friends for seeing me for who I am, a very great and generous person that shouldn’t be killed. And my mentors for leaving me to my own devices, so they don’t interfere with how smart and resourceful I am.”
“You’re just complementing yourself. That’s no way to thank people before your death.”
“Then how’d you do it? since you’re such an expert on last speeches. Have you died before?”
“Well, no, but I’ve heard some speeches down at the gallows. I can at least tell if someone has put in a bit of effort and remorse into their words.”
“Remorse for what? Existing? I didn't even get to wear the sorting shoe. Don’t the student aides in the crowd feel my plight, since your destiny was plucked away through the feet of another.”
“That’s ridiculous, they don’t mind.” Said Freya.
“You don’t mind?” Freya asked her student aide, a shorter thin girl with raven black hair.
“Well… I always wanted to be an alchemist.”
“Well, we don’t always get what we want. Do you think that I wanted to become a witch? It's not like the sorting shoe gave me what I wanted either.”
I noted that it was ironic that a witch was leading a witch hunt against me.
The student aides in the crowd were strangely silent. Maybe it was just my imagination, but their stones looked heavier in their palms. It was the weight of guilt. I was sure of that.
“Well, we’ve run out of time. Raise your stones!” ordered Freya, the students and student aides complying.
As I closed my eyes, and waited to be pelted, I hoped that maybe some of the students would have a weak arm. Maybe they hadn’t grown up picking and putting down boxes, arm wrestling in their down time, or being born somewhat similar to Azog.
“Stop right there! If you throw those rocks at this student aide, all of you will be expelled from the academy.” a voice boomed.
I took a leap of faith and peeked. It was the dwarf! The one who I owed a great debt to. Beside him, stood Merkel.