Prologue

Two young sorcerers, students of the university magicae, commit a terrible act that ends in dire consequences for at least one of them

“One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though ... betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope.”

~Steven Deitz �" American playwright and dramatist, born 1958

 

 

Two men walking down a corridor. They were chatting happily, like two friends catching up after a while apart. There was an air of the end of the day to the way they strode, as if they were leaving the office after a long hard day, just waiting to get home. They were both in their early twenties, perhaps university age. One was slightly podgy, with an erratic mop of light brown hair that hung down into sharp blue eyes that looked both pleasant and intelligent. His mouth seemed to be permanently upturned at the corners, creating two small dimples in his cheeks. He wore a simple ensemble of stripy shirt, sleeves rolled up, and jeans. The only unusual thing about him was the deep purple robe that he wore around his neck. The other man was slightly older, with long blonde hair and bright green eyes that stared out of shadowy sockets. His nose was slightly pointed, and his lips were thin and pale. He wore a black jumper and jeans, and a robe like his friends, only his was a frosty white. He had a much less pleasant air than his younger companion, but he seemed friendly enough as he walked along chatting to his friend.

The corridor had brown stone walls, and the floor was made of a similar material, but was covered with a very aged rug that ran the length from the corner at one end to the stairs at the other. Along the length were several doors, each of a rich, dark oak, and labelled with a bronze plaque displaying a name and title. In the spaces between these doors, the walls were decorated with large portraits and decaying tapestries, displaying various important people or events.

The older man stopped suddenly as they reached another of the doors. The other man stopped with him, looking at the door.

“What?” he asked, looking up at his friend.

“Er...I just have to check something.” the older man reached out and turned the handle on the door. It was unlocked.

“Ah, I'm not sure you should go in there, Melvin,” said the other man.

“Oh, stop being such as wuss, Jonny.” The blonde-haired man, Melvin, stepped through the door into the room beyond.

The younger man, “Jonny”, hesitated. He looked again at the plaque on the door. It read

Fernando Karp

46^th Elite Sorcerer

Chancellor of University Magicae

He sighed, and followed Melvin in through the door. The room was a office, with cushy furnishings. There was a large, surprisingly modern, pine desk, and a deep couch on the opposite wall, by a big bookcase. On the wall behind the desk was a big portrait, showing a man with wispy white shoulder-length hair and a long beard. The artist had clearly marked a bright glint in the man's almond eyes. Jonny looked at the plaque underneath the portrait, although he already knew who it was. Every sorcerer knew this man. His name was Huang Everid, and was the founder of the Council of Worldwide Combined Magicians and Sorcerers, as well as the University Magicae. He managed to bring together the different zones of magic, East, West and South, three continents of seperate knowledge and power, and make them work together under his rule. He was one of the most incredible people in the history of magic, and his knowledge and skill alone was greater than all the biggest minds since put together, so it was said. He was also the longest living sorcerer in history, living to 199, and the story went that he died a week before his 200^th birthday. Even Fernando Karp, the current Elite Sorcerer, had a long way to go. Mind you, he refused to let anyone know his age, but everyone agreed it was somewhere around 100.

Jonny tore his eyes away from the painting, to see Melvin going through the drawers in Karp's desk.

“Melvin, what're you doing?” he exclaimed.

“Don't worry about it, Jonny.” Mevlin held out a wad of papers to Jonny. “Here, hold these.”

Jonny looked round at the door, sighed, and took the papers. Then the door opened.

Jonny whipped round, to see a tall man, with a face covered in crags and wrinkles, and a thick white goatee style beard. Fernando Karp was the sort of man who looked like he was born to be a wise old man. Something about the twinkle in his eyes and the lines around his mouth suggested a mild pleasantness, like a kindly grandfather, but as he looked at the papers in Jonny's hand this pleasantness turned suddenly to anger.

“Jonathan Snowbright, to what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked in a voice that made no attempt to seem friendly.

Jonny gaped, lost for words. “Ah..I..er..Melvin..” He turned desperately to his friend, to find that his friend was gone. “Melvin?” Jonny stared around fearfully. Where had Melvin gone? How could he abandon him like that?

Fernando Karp shook his head disappointedly, and sat down behind his desk. He gestured for Jonny to sit opposite. Trapped, without any other options, Jonny sat. Karp held out his hand for the papers that Jonny still clutched like a talisman. He handed them over.

“Snowbright, snowbright,” Karp, took off his hat, a tall, pointed majesty in a rainbow of colours. He placed it carefully on the desk, between him and Jonny. “Snowbright, why are you in my office, going through my papers?”

Jonny glanced around again, looking desperately for Melvin. As he did so, he went through his options. The circumstances made Jonny look very guilty, and if he were to persuade Karp that Melvin was the one going through the papers, that would not do very well for his friendship with Melvin. Jonny had been in trouble plenty of times during his school years, and even though Karp was much more frightening than any of his old teachers, what harm could it do to take the blame? What was the worst Karp could do?

Karp sighed. “You do realise that this is among the worst offences you can make? It's right up there with killing a fellow student and cheating in exams.” He raised his eyebrows at Jonny. “And do you know what the punishment for this is?”

Jonny shook his head slowly.

Karp smiled wryly. “Expulsion from the university.”

Jonny chewed his lip. “Really?” He really hoped Melvin would pop out of the Elite Sorcerer's en suite and tell Karp it was all his fault. But that didn't happen.

“And, inevitably you will be sacked from the council as well.”

Jonny felt like someone had grabbed his heart and was squishing it with all their might. “No, sir, I swear, I wasn't trying to steal anything.”

Karp raised his eyebrows. “Really? So what were you doing?”

“Me and Melvin were just leaving, and he said he wanted to check something, then he came in here, and that's when you came in.”

“Oh,” Karp seemed amused. “So where is Melvin now?”

Jonny looked around again. “I don't know. He was right here...” his voice petered away into a vain murmur.

Karp stood up. “I'm sorry Jonathan Snowbright. You were a good council member, and it will be hard to replace you. But rules are rules.”

“What about my degree?”

“Again, rules are rules, Snowbright. But we have good links with the university of Cambridge, and I'm sure I can get you a place so you can finish off your degree there. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I have a lot to do. I suggest you go see Mrs Wainwright tomorrow morning.”

“Oh...Er...Bye then, sir...” Jonathan Snowbright stood up, hesitantly, and went for the door.

“Goodbye, Snowbright,” Karp was already engrossed in the papers spread out over his desk. “Oh, and would you ask dear Mary-Lou to make me a cup of Earl Grey on your way out, please? Thank you very much.”

Reviews

[Misted Eyes]

I liked the beginning, the quotation paragraph-- very classy! Most people just quote meaningless pop songs, but you went above and beyond, and for that I applaud to you, ser.
There are a few-- one or two--paragraphs that seem too-long to me, and there are places in which they could be broken down easily into smaller paragraphs.
I don't believe that the narrative character, Jonathan Snowbright, is angry/outraged/[enter emotion here] enough. Seeing as his friend ditched him and he was just sacked from the council-thing and expelled from the university, I'd expect him to be more distraught and outraged. But, then again, he might be just shocked that he was abandoned.

I hope you'll find this helpful,
Courteously,
The Misted Eyes that Gaze from beyond the Veil of Frost