Copyright Ⓒ 2018 by B. Bailey All Rights Reserved       

Chapter Twelve - Murphy's Law

Sera

They've all been lying to me. That knowledge races back and forth across my mind amid a roar as the rest of my brain short circuits, re-running every late night session that left me bloody and bruised every time I was running for my life in Niflheim to scavenge supplies, freezing cold as I ran amidst the mist.

The whole time they let me believe I had a chance, pushing me non-stop when they knew!

I run a hand across my eyes as the hallway blurs, hating that it comes away wet. I always cry when I get really, really angry and it is so stupid! People see me and think that I'm upset and sad, but I'm not sad - I'm furious!

"UGH!" I run past the doors of our rooms, hating every single hinge and knob, every stone and crevice, for lying to me, making my life a living Hel.

For literally sending me into the Underworld.

I finally make it to the entrance for our Years Dormitory, running as if the Hounds of Hel are coming after me again, but this is worse then those Hounds. I can outrun them. My mind is something I can never get away from.

I failed. All of that time and effort wasted. Did they even care, watching me struggle and standing back, saying nothing?

Skadi. Why did she make me suffer so much if it was pointless?!

A Prime Guardian is supposed to guide a Hero, teaching them the skills necessary to survive and arranging the curriculum to suit the specific needs of their ward. She chooses me, ages ago! She's been arranging my electives around the mandatory courses for millennia!

The last 600 years has been the absolute worst! I struggle in the flames of Muspelheim just to get sent into Niflheim to freeze, failing in both Realms!

Curse the Tournament! It's made my life miserable! Forcing me to train, making me get up time after time until I was too weak to stand. Making me work under Skadi, who keeps making me go in the field on my own.

I can't even remember all of the places she's dropped me off when she felt I had studied enough, making me apply the knowledge practically.

I accepted it when it was legitimate, enhancing my education. But sending me into the most dangerous Realms on my own? She was granted special permission from the Headmaster Tyr and the Second-in-Command Healani, fulfilling the requirement of a Lead Guardian and Mortal Hero granting that it was necessary and not completely cruel, otherwise, it would have been against the rules.

My parents had to sign off on it too! I still think that it is against the rules, even with all of the "official clearance".

Any other student from the older Years could have gone instead, gathering materials, or one of the Guardians since its part of their job! Students only go to gather material as part of a curriculum, teaching us how to identify the useable items of a terrain for lessons or as punishment.

Somehow she managed to get just the two of us in Niflheim, alone, breaking so many rules as she sat back and had me go off on my own for a week at a time.

I could have died!

Was death a risk they were willing to take if it got them a Lif to parade before the Realms, keeping everyone in line? Is this why so many older students die?

And my parents were okay with it?!

Is the tradition and honor of Midgard more important to them than me?

A hiccup interrupts my stride, hurting my lungs as I continue to run ahead, wanting out of this place and off of this wretched island as all of the fears I denied surge forward.

The nearest Warp Gate is a few corners away, I recall, my feet following the path before I realize that's where I want to go. It can take me to any place in Midgard. Anywhere at all.

Where do I want to go? Certainly not back to the Festival below. Home is filled with annoying family right now. So...where?

Staring at the Tellus Spere glowing in my hand, I make up my mind.

Lower Midgard, to a beach in the countryside where there are no people around. Earth would be better, but I can't go there without permission.

The familiar silver glow of a Warp Gate shimmers at the edge of the hallway to my right, drawing my mind forward towards my escape.

Running up to the niche, I jump at the Gate, stopping only after the Guide Sphere jabs into my leg, the pedestal sending a painful shock that rattles my bones. Ignoring the pain, my left-hand moves ahead like lightning, flashing up to Sphere, dancing over the screen after it loads into the air.

The map shifts into proportion, zooming in on my selected area, bringing up the region in 3D form. I brush my hand across it, making it swerve to the left until I see a shoreline standing against vast waters as I pass over some mountaintops, pressing the middle of the screen to pause it when I find a place that looks good.

"There," I command, touching the space I want to Warp too, right on top of the cliffside where I can sit and watch the waves in peace.

A small green circle encloses the area, locking in the coordinates. I wait for the doors to slide back, giving me access to go.

"Invalid Entry." The gate states, flashing red across the screen as the words echo in the small crevice in that annoying preset female voice.

What?! I know I entered the coordinates correctly.

I swipe the screen, clearing the entry, starting over as the migraine morphs, throbbing violently behind both of my eyes now.

"Invalid Entry."

My eye twitches as I hold the side of my head, wincing at the pain. It's impossible - there's no way I had an invalid entry twice.

Even with the semester over the Warp Gates are still active in the Academy. The Guardians use them to go in and out and many older kids come back for summer sessions to get ahead or catch up.

I open the mainframe, skimming over the coding to see if there could be an override instated, restricting the system beyond the normal parameters.

Nothing.

Nothing is limiting the codes. There's no just no way it can be invalid if the system is operational!

Unless...isn't this the same code that shows up when I jam the Warp Gate at the individual training grounds when I want to keep people away, especially that one person who kept hacking her way past the locks to harass me when I was in a private session on my own private field?

The only way to keep the gate from opening without fail is by placing a stationary item it that has a spell locking it to the Academy grounds! It's an end-around I exploited when I got really ticked off at Donalda. What makes it brilliant is the fact that it locks the Warp Gate without sending an official error code back to the Guardians' Office.

Only the person trying to access that particular Warp Gate would get a message, showing "Invalid Entry", a message that has left Donalda steaming because she can't override it. It's only fair considering how crazy she's made me with her impossible tracer.

Even if she figures it out, which she probably has by now, the only way to stop it is by removing any stationary items from my reach that aren't allowed to leave a particular room or wing of the Academy. There aren't very many of them, to begin with but those that exist are not always easy to identify.

Some are obvious, like the Museum pieces that can't leave the Academy, but others are small, nondescript. You could pass by them a thousand times and not even think about it.

Ugh. Some wise-guy must have realized that little glitch and decided to make a last-day prank, irritating the Guardians by blocking off a quick re-entry into the Academy. Glaring at the screen, I press the sphere, ending the program as it shrinks into a small line, disappearing from sight.

Placing both hands over the middle of the Gateway I push with my power, prying the doors apart until my fingers slip through the crack, no easy feat considering that these were made to be ultra-secure.

Errk!

Each silver panel slides back slowly as I wrestle the locking mechanism, hating the grinding noises it's bouncing around the hallway, knowing that someone, a Guardian or the two people I just ran away from, will hear it.

"Come on," I growl, pushing harder, watching as the Warp Platform expands under the archway.

Ding!

The Archway and platform light up, filling the niche with bright silver light as the system recognizes that the doors are open.

"Eek!" I squeek just above a whisper, my lungs seizing as my mind gets knocked out of its angry haze by the terrible sight revealed in the light before me.

What in the Worlds is the Red Kings' Blazing Spear of Blood doing in the Warp Gate?!

That's one of the highest rated artifacts from the Founders' Museum! It never leaves the Vault. It can't even pass beyond the edge of the Museums mosaic floor, one of the barriers sealing the magic in.

It can't be here...

Yet the red etched spear before me can be nothing else and nowhere else. Those swirls and jagged lines mark the language of the Fire Jotuns, the creators and original owners of the weapon up until Xerxes, the first leader of the original Lifs, stole it from them right under their King and his Generals noses during a war meeting in Muspel, earning him the title Red King since he was forever scarred by the flames within that volatile Realm.

He locked it up here after creating Midgard with the other Heroes and Lifthrasirs, forming Albiones as his home where he could practice all of the magic he wanted without worrying about hurting anyone and setting forth the Four Watchtowers to keep an eye over anyone looking to travel through Midgard to reach Earth.

The Vault was created within the Watchtower to the North, closest to the suns so that it could be alight as often as possible to make theft rather difficult as Asgard, more specifically Heimdall and the Guardians, can an eye on it and the other powerful artifacts that they choose to seal away.

The Guardians built the Academy around the Vault after the Armistice was signed but the Vault is still its own self-governing space.

"Ehhh..." I wheeze, stepping back in horror as I clutch my chest, feeling my heart palpitate before kicking into overdrive.

Oh, my stars!

I so do not want to deal with this right now. There will be major interrogations by the Guardians! This was the single most heavily guarded artifact, the one that only ever left the Vault once and was quickly sealed away again with a whole new layer of fortifications added to make sure it absolutely never ever made it out again.

The one terrible, grizzly time that is was removed leaving a bloody mar on the Lifs' history which stands above the others, including Willoughby, who was driven to insanity or went evil.

Vivrinec, the Red Kings' short-lived successor, took it out of the Vault after witnessing a massacre centuries into a war in Svartalheim, losing his patience as the bloodshed rose, drawing innocents into the escalating violence.

He lost his head.

As soon as he brought it to into battle he went totally psycho, cutting down everyone in front of him on the battlefield, even the ones who had the good sense to flee. His bloodlust was so insatiable that, after the whole of the Fire Jotun Army that had risen up was dead or so far into Muspel that no one could follow, he turned on his own allies.

The Lifs and Lifthrasirs who had gone there as long-standing comrades had to fight him to save the others. They tried to save him, but...

His powers were the death of him.

A Lif has a very high endurance, capable of withstanding great damage with minimal harm. When we do get hurt we have the ability to rapidly healing ourselves. When confronted with severe trauma our bodies take on supernatural effects that scare beings from the other Realms, including the Aesir.

Like the fact that our limbs can re-attach themselves or, if horribly damaged or knocked very far away, completely regenerate.

So, each time that they tried to separate him from the weapon by cutting off his hands, they just re-attached to his body before they could begin to fall towards the ground. Over and over and over again.

That was how the ability that made him survive beyond the Red King Xerxes himself aided in his own demise, even as it allowed him to wield the weapon while it burned his body. (Unlike Xerxes, Vivrinec was unable to completely control the flames)

In the end, there was only one way to stop him since no logic or magic could break through to his true mind and they found themselves unable to separate him from the Spear.

Working together, the 6 Heroes left with the energy and ability to fight united, coming together with a shared goal. It took all of their power to cut of Vivrinecs' head, using his own body to shield the Lifthrasir Unn, who was supercharged with the power the 6 Lifs' channeled to him. All while the Lifs' used their own bodies as a distraction.

Only Vivrinec perished in that merciless battle but his death takes the cake out off all the Generations.

I shiver as the unbidden image of my head rolling across the stone floor flashes through my mind, backing up blindly on jelly limbs that are wobbling uncontrollably.

Calm down, I repeat, over and over, immediately stepping into the mantra routine of focussing my will, bringing my mind to a central point of focus so that it stops careening in a free fall of terror.

As much as I hate the Academy right now, I have to admit that not all of the lessons were useless. The life and death situations have honed in my instincts and trained me to have knee-jerk reactions to stress and terror.

I focus on breathing in and out slowly, repeating the mantra to slow my heart rate down and calm my raw nerves.

Except my heart doesn't slow down. My nerves stay raw, flickering hotly as if lightning is racing along my brain, setting fire to every nerve ending, making my body twitch and spasm.

I gasp in pain as my body starts to burn, igniting as the flames spread out from my stomach, bending over as the world tilts, shifting as uneasily as my mind. My arms cross over my stomach as the hallway lurches beneath me, knocking me onto my knees.

Closing my eyes, I try to overcome the sudden disorientation, succeeding only in getting motion sickness, feeling my stomach cramp and twist in the raging inferno rising inside as memories cut through the mantra, stabbing my mind.

Jutons tormenting me as Hel Hounds bite at my feet overhanging the icy ledge in the wilds of Nifleheim, struggling to re-string my bow with one hand while my left arm is throbbing in a sling after I accidentally ran off of a cliff and fell into a canyon, breaking my arm in a fight with the hounds that I fell on top off.

I had no choice but to climb up and fix my bow, which had been sliced by the razor sharp jaws of a Hound before I could put up a higher level shield, taking a whole day to sluggishly ascend to the higher plain I fell from.

Coming across Skadi just to have her ask "All you have are Hound Claws? Where are the other items listed?", like my injuries didn't matter at all, sending me back out until I had gathered every item on the list in the full quantities stated. I ended up healing fully by the time I got to the next item : Will-O-The-Wisps (or as the Lidthrasirs refer to them, Ignis Fatuus, but I don't like the langauge they made for themselves so I refuse to call them by their 'Latin' nickname).

It took me another week to gather those deceptive green fairies as I wondered aimlessly through the fog.

Coming back to the Academy two weeks later looking like I had wrestled bare handed with a pack of Hel Hounds, which I did, and wandered through a blizzard, which I did, just to see learn that Caer, from the 9th Year, had already refilled the Laboratories inventory for those very items.

The instructor told me that my additions were "useful", just a little too late to be used immediately. Then listening to Hemming and Aisling talk about how, after training with them, Caer and one of her classmates went to their science room, saw the low inventory, and volunteered to re-stock, coming back within 3 nights with everything that it took me 2 weeks to find.

Their supplies looked better too.

Then Donlda complained loudly at lunch the next day that her advanced potion study group, which required a lot of the Will-O-The-Wisps' wispy green aura that day, had to wait because the extra items not assigned for the regular course distribution were "shoddy" and that whoever gathered them needed to be docked a few points for getting useless supplies and that she was going to have to go down and get some herself, thank you very much, for wasting her time.

Hemming and Aisling admitting that the student on that run must have had detention, not spending time to get good material or taking proper care to "enhance" the essence, a step many skip when they are rushed, making the material lower rate, only useful for the weaker potions.

An essence that I couldn't enhance and the best material I was able to gather.

Telling my friends that I was so beat up because Skadi went hard-core during training. I couldn't when she sent me out again, saying that I had to do better the this time.

A terrible weekend where Donalda stood in the center of the commons room entrance, laughing at the fact that I was assigned extra work (thankfully not knowing it was Combat training in Muspel, plainly classified as Combat by Skadi), making it clear to whole common room that she trained by choice on any subject of her choosing while I wasn't.

Everyone looking at me in surprise as she took my schedule to see if I had fallen behind elsewhere, breaking through my protective seals, reading it aloud for everyone to hear. The embarrassment as they realized I was getting help Muspel Transfiguration because the samples kept exploding due to unstable molecular bonds that I should have been able to stabilize.

My Prime Guardian sighing as I went through a Training, evading flaming rocks erupting from fissures, looking at her messages instead of watching me when she through I wasn't paying attention, an act that left me with a bruised ego and forearm as a large rock slammed into me.

Two Dwarves from the Judges Court, sneering at my exhibition showcasing the gemstones I had enhanced last Festival, removing the minutest of atomic flaws, strengthening the central traits so that they could contain mana safely in the controlled manner I directed just like the Trolls and Dwarves taught me (since Dwarves are better at accessing the stones innate energy for spellcraft than Trolls are yet Trolls are better at purifying and enhancing the stones).

Them saying that a humans work would never be as good as theirs after they crossed the room, thinking that I couldn't bypass their privacy shield to catch the conversation.

Me laughing with my friends as we played through an Infinity Duel, placing the weirdest teams out, trying crazy tactics for the fun of it until a winner emerged from the chaos. Seeing those smiles now and realizing that they knew I was having a hard time and kept the truth of it being a wasted effort from me.

My mind reels, spinning in circles as more memories emerge, dragging at the hole in my heart those friends just made.