Chapter the Sixth of Part the Fifth
In which the narrative recounts acts from the life of Malcoomb Nordrench in World Drakkenfleiss.
Student Magus Malcoomb Nordrench sat cross-legged with his back wedged into the corner of his room. He relaxed himself as best he could before beginning the most difficult and riskiest spell he had ever cast in his life. If he had found any other way to enter Merithwell without the help of Dunsland Dilworth, he would have done it, but all other attempts had failed and he was left with his last resort.
Malcoomb carefully inserted his mind’s force into his voice box and then gently lifted his voice out of his throat. This was the riskiest part of the operation. If anything went wrong while his voice was empty, then he might never regain the powers of verbal speech or singing. He would much rather have subjected Dunsland Dilworth to that risk but every scroll that Malcoomb consulted stressed the danger of leaving an emptiness in the person a magus was acting upon. In that case, Dunsland might become aware that his voice had been stolen and try to reclaim it. With Dunsland, the risk of being thwarted was very small, but Malcoomb decided not to count on that. If he managed his own work properly, Dunsland would have no chance to thwart him.
With the essence of his own voice extracted from himself, Malcoomb sent his voice to a position half an arm’s length above Dunsland’s face. Every indication was that Dunsland was sleeping, which would leave him defenseless, since Dunsland was incapable of casting a defense spell. Next came the hard part. Malcoomb carefully lifted Dunsland’s voice out of his throat and slowly dropped his own voice into Dunsland’s larynx. Dunsland’s throat absorbed Malcoomb’s voice perfectly. Malcoomb quickly reeled Dunsland’s voice to himself and dropped it into his larynx. He felt the voice settle in and fall into place perfectly. Total success.
Malcoomb surrounded himself with a short term soundproofing spell and then sang a few notes. There was no question that he had Dunsland’s sweet-sounding singing voice. Now he should have no trouble entering into Merithwell on his own and shaping the place to his own private needs. Malcoomb sprang from his bed, ready to run to the secret room he had created for the Merithwell entrance, but before Malcoomb could even open his door, a purple coyote leaped in front of him.
“Assemble immediately in the Drakkenfleiss Academy Assembly Hall,” announced the coyote, before it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
“May Donanskorall’s snot turn into burning salt!” Malcoomb cursed under his breath.
Malcoomb thought briefly of disobeying the summons and going straight to the entrance to Merithwell. If he succeeded in getting in, he would have no need to worry about the wrath of the master magi. But if anything went wrong, he would be in deeper trouble than he could possibly get out of. Since the delay should not hurt his plans in any way, Malcoomb decided to teleport himself to the Assembly Hall.
The dark clouds swirling in the assembly hall were darker than they had ever been, a sign that the crisis of the errant magi was becoming urgent and dangerous. Rather than contrasting shades of gray and black, the clouds seemed only to show contrasts between lighter and darker shades of black. Malcoomb waited eagerly for Dunsland’s appearance. He didn’t have to wait long. Dunsland appeared ahead of many students with Raissa and Gwendarin, who apparently had assisted the incompetent student in his movement.
“Did you get a good breakfast?” Morrass asked Dunsland.
“Yes, a nice orange was—“
Dunsland stopped. An odd expression came over his face. Malcoomb heaved a secret sigh of satisfaction. Dunsland had his voice for sure.
“What’s wrong?”asked Raissa.
“I don’t know.”
“Your voice sounds different,” said Gwendarin.
“I know.”
“Do you think you can still sing?” asked Morrass.
“I hope so.”
Dunsland sang the first two lines of the song “The Western Wind.” The girls and Morrass and Dunsland shared puzzled looks.
“You can still sing,” said Gwendarin tentatively, “but it’s different.”
“You still have a good voice,” said Raissa, “but it’s different.”
“I think somebody exchanged voices with you,” said Morrass.
Malcoomb looked away when the four student magi began to turn their heads in his direction. He was spared an awkward moment because Premiere Master Magus Donanskorall shimmered into view and eyedthe boys, Dunsland in particular, with a dark look. All conversation stopped. Theory Master Magus Raspoortek, Conjuring Master Magus Daylanna, Music Master Magus Hilfersdorner, Healing Master Magus Mandora and Combat Master Magus Mossritch all materialized alongside of the Premiere Master Magus.
“This is a most important gathering,” said Premiere Master Magus Donanskorall in his long drawn out bass voice. “The first thing I must say to you is that the fortress built by the errant magi—and we now know there are many of them—has reached alarming proportions, and that in an incredibly short time. They must be very powerful and dangerous to accomplish such a thing. We fear that an attack on the Academy could happen at any time and therefore, we must attack them with no further delay. If we do not, their fortress could easily become twice the enormous size it is faster than we can wield our honorary flares.”
Malcoomb surveyed the fearful faces of the students shrouded in the dark clouds and imagined himself as the savior of Drakkenfleiss by attacking the errant magi from Merithwell just when they had their faces turned towards the Academy of Drakkenfleiss.
“As we face this emergency,” Premiere Master Magus Donanskorall continued, “we must make use of every bit of power and energy that all of the master magi and all of the student magi can produce. We are stretching the limits of magic to develop new spells that will confound these errant magi. You are already learning new combat spells with impressive results. However, we are convinced that the keystone of our attack must be a reverse music spell. It happens that we have a rare opportunity in the magical voice of our otherwise totally incompetent student magus Dunsland Dilworth. Unfortunately, Student Magus Dusland Dilworth has not seen fit to cooperate and, as if that was not enough, I have received a most disquieting report of his behavior in two recent classes. Student Dunsland Dilworth, step forward.”
Malcoomb sucked in his breath when Dunsland took two steps forward and looked the Arch Premiere Master Magus much more squarely in the eye than Malcoomb would have dared to do.
“Music Master Magus Hilfersdorner and Theory Master Magus Raspoortek tell me that they have discovered that a voice of your quality is indeed capable of working a reverse music spell. All the spell requires on your part is a true and sincere concentration. I now order you to sing, first, the forward notes of the healing spell that needs to be reversed, and then I order you to sing the reverse pattern to teach the spell to the other boys among the student magi.”
Dunsland opened his mouth and sang the spell, his voice sounding much louder and more metallic than it had ever sounded. The master magi opened their mouths in amazement.
“Student Dunsland Dilworth!” yelled Music Master Magus Hilfersdorner, “what have you done with your voice?”
“Nothing,” said Dunsland, making an odd look as he spoke the word.
“That is not your voice with which you are speaking and singing,” said Arch Premiere Master Magus Donanskorall. “Where—is—your—voice?”
“I do not know. IF YOU WANT MY VOICE, FIND IT YOURSELF!”
Malcoomb could not believe that Dunsland did not melt in the fiery glare that the Premiere Master Magus shot at him.
“Is that the proper way to speak to me?” Premier Master Magus Donanskorall asked.
“Yes, that is the proper way to speak to you.”
“In that case,” said Arch Premiere Master Magus Donanskorall, “I will show you the proper way to treat a student magus who defies the Premiere Master Magus during a time of great emergency.”
Malcoomb held his breaths as Premiere Master Magus Donanskorall produced a few wisps of silvery clouds with small undulating motions with his hands. The clouds floated above Dunsland and slowly increased in density until a sudden thrust of Premiere Master Magus Donanskorall’s left arm turned the cloud into a pillar of lightning that encapsulated Dunsland. Every student magus in the Assembly Hall froze. Dunsland was visible through the frozen cloud as a distorted image, his face twisted both by the cloud itself and the pain it was inflicting on him.
“This is a sorcerous shaft,” Premiere Master Magus Donanskorall explained, “Student Magus Dunsland Dilworth will survive indefinitely in this shaft, but he will not survive comfortably. I suggest that none of you encourage him further or follow his example if you to not wish to share his fate. It will be necessary for us to have an emergency Master Magi Moot to rework our strategy. Be ready to reassemble here at any time, even a time earlier than the current present. We will not be long. We can think very fast when we have to.”
Even Malcoomb was shaken by what had happened although he had not the slightest sympathy for Dunsland. He thanked his great timing in doing the voice exchange spell when he did as he now had no further need of Dunsland’s help for entering into Merithwell. Better still, Dunsland was out of the way and so could not interfere with his plans. Malcoomb teleported himself to the place where he had created the secret room before the entry into Merithwell. He steadied his nerves and sang the spell that Dunsland had sung many times, singing it in Dunsland voice.
Nothing happened. Malcoomb could not believe it. He was sure that he had the spell right. He had the right voice. He had the right words. Nothing could possibly have gone wrong. Malcoomb sang the spell a second time, using the sweetness of Dunsland’s voice to make the spell sound more appealing. Nothing happened. Malcoomb was locked out of Merithwell unless he could find a way to free Dunsland from the prison pillar created by the Premiere Master Magus.
“Yes, that’s the voice,” said Raissa.
“I think we know what happened,” said Morrass.
Suddenly, Malcoomb was surrounded by four angry students.
“What do you want?” he asked defiantly.
“Why did you steal Dunsland’s voice?” asked Forsikt.
Malcoomb opened his mouth to deny it.
“Don’t deny it,” said Raissa. “There is no question about it. Why did you do it?”
“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe it,” said Malcoomb.
“Try me,” said Gwendarin.
“How come all of you are so concerned about Dunsland all of a sudden?” Malcoomb asked. “He’s still the most incompetent student in the Academy.”
“Why do you hate Dunsland so deeply?” asked Morrass.
“What business is that of yours?” Malcoomb asked.
“Should we give him a few shots?” asked Forsikt.
“Yea.” “Yea.”
Seeing an attack coming, Malcoomb tried to put up a protective shield but he could stop the spurts of fire coming from all directions at once. The other students had turned on him, a fate he had tried to engineer for Dunsland. Malcoomb kept telling himself to keep calm and work himself out of the situation but he could not stifle a wild terror running rampant through his bloodstream. When the attacks stopped, Malcoomb quickly administered healing spells to himself.
“Now, why did you steal Dunsland’s voice?” asked Forsikt.
Malcoomb decided to tell the truth and see what that led to. Perhaps he could still use the situation to his advantage.
“I thought I could sing my way into Merithwell if I had Dunsland’s voice,” Malcoomb admitted.
“You pulled off that voice-stealing spell very well,” said Forsikt with some admiration, “but it doesn’t seem to have worked the way you wanted it to.”
“I should be able to get it right as soon as I get used to Dunsland’s voice,” said Malcoomb.
“Try it one more time,” Raissa challenged him.
Malcoomb sang the spell, hoping it would work this time, but it didn’t.
“Let me try it,” said Morrass.
“No!”
“Yes,” said Gwendarin. “You do not own Merithwell.”
“Getting into Merithwell might be the only way we can save Dunsland,” said Raissa.
Morrass sang the spell and immediately the wall opened in to Merithwell. Malcoomb’s mouth flipped open and shut. He still had no idea of how he could have failed when Morrass could open the way so easily. The girls poured into Merithwell. Malcoomb followed quickly. Malcoomb turned the wheels furiously in his head, working out a spell that could neutralize his fellow student magi. Just as he decided on the proper spell and the way to cast it, two groups of boys came bursting in to Merithwell from different directions and ran into each other. Among them were Luke and Brendan and Tel Arman and Pir Min and Mark Streeter and Tormo Redhand. Immediately, a different plan sprang into Malcoomb’s head. He waved his honorary flair, creating with it a long streak of fire that made the boys scream.
Proceed to Chapter the Seventh of Part the Fifth