Low Times

The walls of Gillmoore Academy towered over Owen, a foreboding aura hung over it which stopped most normal residents of the city getting near.

The Academy was rather new as the headmaster, the famed Fane Gillmoore, had founded it to counter the magical illiteracy that plagued the country. What that meant was forcing everyone with talent to go through his training and those that were successful helped enforce and bolster his political position.

On the other hand there were people like Owen who had never quite fit into his ideals so here he was a bit too light on cash and the academy looked like the perfect spot to heavy his coffers.

Having been one the less successful students he had been made to do a lot of the chores and maintenance that was 'below' the top students. On the other hand he knew a few back entrances and the one the chef's used would probably be empty as there was no cooking at this time at night.

He took out his wand or as is more accurate his magic channelling device. This was something he had improved from what was traditional. The stick was metal in a sleek design that held a pen nib for writing but also intricate engravings he had spent years perfecting in some misguided attempt to keep up with his fellow mages at the academy.

This very 'pen' was what had got him expelled when it malfunctioned causing a substantial magic resonance wave that incapacitated a few students. Fane himself declared it was not appropriate for the academy's walls.

Skirting the wall round the stable he got to the door leading to the kitchen. The door had a lock, not one of steel but an enchantment that only the designated few could open. 

Taking a breath he listened. The magic always spoke to him in hushed whispers, some sort of language but not one any human could decipher. It was all hums, whistling, rumblings or on occasion shrieking. There never seemed to be any intelligence in it but it always meant something.

The enchantment had some humming centralised at the hinges, putting the butt of his pen there he could feel the magic leak out of the enchantment through the pen, in a few seconds the enchantment was nothing but hushed tones being carried away in the wind.

Going down the hallway old memories sprung back. He wasn't much of a cook but the chefs seemed to like him enough to help him get some materials for his studies. At the start he had tried chicken feathers to make his pen but that had never had a chance of working, the feather just couldn't withstand the magic.

The chefs had found this intriguing as Owen had proclaimed that anyone could use magic with his device which while true it turned out hearing the magic benefitted him more than he realized. His younger sister had never managed to use the pen however much she had tried.

The kitchen had a stew in the corner staying warm on the embers of a fire, some produce on some shelves in the corner but it was fairly bare apart from the fridge and freezer which were one of Fane's innovations.

Fane had many such devices that ran on magic, this didn't really help those that couldn't produce magic as magic batteries were far too expensive for the average household. While there had been a magic revolution because of him the poor had been left in the dust.

A few recent inventions had let some of the lower class succeed without magic but they always seemed to disappear or get beaten down later.

Going up the stairs he was careful, always listening for some indication of guard or something. It was quiet though, the magic seemed to be still.

Then there was a roar of magic, almost deafening Owen. It spoke of something dark, it sounded awful, vile. This was something new, something he hadn't heard before. The sound dripped with evil, something unnatural. 

There was another sound, it seemed harmonious, balanced. It seemed to be fighting off the other noise, it sounded like the magic of Fane himself. 

Owen turned on his heels, this was not the right place to be at this moment. There was something dangerous here and he wasn't about to find out what it was. 

When he turned he saw face almost right up to his. It had managed to sneak up when he was distracted by the other magics. It felt wrong.

"I have something to show you," it said. The mouth opened up and a sharp tongue took a lash at Owen.

He jumped up a few steps, flailing as he did so. The tongue left a large gash on the steps.

"Most people don't have whip tongues. I don't suppose we can talk it out?" Owen asked half-heartedly.

Looking more closely it was humanoid, maybe it was once human but the surgery scars over it's body made it clear it was no longer human. That and the extendable tongue.

"There's so much you need to learn, I can show you." The hands darted forwards, extending far further than they should have.

Owen made another jump but this tame he didn't come out unscathed as one of the fingernails left a cut on his cheek. Those fingernails seemed as sharp as scalpels. 

The most disconcerting thing for Owen was the utter lack of magic within this beast. Every living being should have some, mages had a lot so they could wield it but everyone had some. 

Yet there was magic leading off it, it seemed to be somewhere. Somewhere further up.

"Yeah, I don't think I want you to teach me anything," he said scrambling up the stairs. 

The thing seemed to stop confused for a second before it tried bounding up after him. Luckily it just seemed to launch itself at the walls of the spiral staircase as it seemed unable to control it's speed like some infant.

Taking the first door out he took out the pen and jammed the nib into the wall. It replicated the enchantment on the lock outside almost instantly locking the door from the beast. 

Prying the pen from the door he inspected the damage, the nib had held up well. It seemed the new design was working well enough.

The door shook launching Owen from it but it stood firm against the monster. The enchantment seemed to strengthen the door, something he hadn't considered before yet Fane had. Fane's enchantments always seemed to be a step above everyone else's.

The corridor was long, the magic was quiet but Owen kept his other senses heightened, there was something very wrong here. A beast like that should never have made it to the academy, and the vile magic still seemed to be coming from up in the school.

Then there was a burst of magic from the courtyard, Owen ran down the corridor, after a few turns he looked down to see something odd. A tree had broken through the brick flooring of the courtyard, two professors hung pierced by the branches. Their gowns looked new but their bodies looked mummified.

Three other professors seemed to be scrambling away from roots chasing them. One pupil held a sword slicing through the impeding roots but it looked like a losing battle especially when she was protecting a group of three students behind her.

Listening the magic was singing a beautiful song of nature but he could hear something more sinister underneath. The magic seemed hungry, it was odd. Magic had never been so expressive in his life yet this magic was.

Taking a breath he paused and weighed his options, could he intervene. If he did could he even do anything or just be another corpse for the tree to feed on, even now it grew further into the sky.

"Always try," he groaned under his breath. That very mantra had led him into the academy and it seemed to be leading him further into danger. 

Holding his scarf (a colourful piece with little dots all over it) he thought to his sister, lying in her bed. She was far too kind, though it was always a family trait, they always seemed to get taken advantage of.

Action struck, first he ran to the stairs leading down to the courtyard. Breaking his legs would do no one any good.

Running past one of the running professors he made it into the courtyard.

The last two professors had gathered their wits and had started fighting off the veins. The older women seemed to just look and the roots just turned to stone, the roots seemed to be overwhelming what she could manage.

The younger professor held her ground with some fire magic which the tree did not like, it seemed almost scared of the fire. The girl was tiring, the three students looked petrified of there situation. 

Taking his pen he pulled the butt of the pen feeling the resistance of the spring. Then let go, it struck a magic stone hidden in the pen causing a shriek of magic from it. Feeling that particular magic he could feel everything around him at that point.

The magic from the tree seemed to shudder from some pain from this.

Owen launched himself forward, using this pseudo-echolocation to guide him forward. He only had a few seconds before the pens shrieking stopped but it would be enough to reach the students.

The tree didn't seem that interested in Owen but he was able to avoid the few roots and branches that tried to pierce him.

"Always stay one step ahead," he muttered.

The students looked at this new interloper with some hope and also confusion as he closed in. One of the students was on the floor, his leg bent unnaturally.

"You guys okay," he said as he got up to them.

"Yeah, do you have news of any other parts of the school?" the girl with the sword said taking charge as she sliced another root down.

"There are other things in the school, now do you guys have a plan to get out of here?" 

The girl paused, her voice breaking, "the teachers were my plan but... that doesn't look hopeful."

He looked at his pen and felt a faint hissing.

"Can you buy me a minute?" Owen asked.

She looked hesitant, "I don't know how long I have left in me."

"Just try to last as long as possible," he said digging his hands in his pockets.