The Fearful Void - Part 2
Professor Colbert's warning went unheard, and his knuckles whitened around his staff at the sight of the unnatural rift. The glow cast the world in blood-splattered light, and the cloaks and capes of his students were blown in the sudden strange circular movements of the air. He was in the best place to see the pale hand emerge, and that was reassuring in the strangeness, because at least some summoning was occurring. Louise de La Vallière had her oddities, yes, the sickness and her problems with controlling her magic, but at least this was a sign of some kind of success. And this morbid glow was a colour he had seen with her various magical mishaps before.
It was therefore with more equanimity than others might have managed that he watched as the second hand emerged, to be followed by a dark-haired head wearing some sort of mesh-tiara. Through tumbled a small girl-child, perhaps six or seven years of age, dressed in some sort of white gown which was certainly thin and unseasonable for this rain. Strange black strands which did not look like hair came from fleshy growths on her forehead and... no, the man realised, blinking, they were not flesh, they were some kind of thing stuck onto her, which was made more clear when she scrabbled at the skin and tore them off, casting them aside along with the tiara. Where the tiara had sat, there were patches of white skin, where there was no hair.
It was only at that point that he noticed that Louise had crumpled and fallen. Another one of her fainting spells, he realised; she would be fine once she had been taken to the infirmary. Well, this was a problem with the summoning; she certainly wasn't in a condition to bind her familiar. If it was right for her to do so at all; small girls were not meant to be familiars. And honestly... well, honestly wouldn't be much use anyway.
"Hello?" he said, stepping forwards. "Little girl... class, please be quiet... little girl, are you all right?"
Two reddish-orange eyes met his. She was terrified, he could tell that much. Softly, she was whispering something, a repetitive pattern of six or so words, but he could make neither head nor tail of them. The assonance of them, the pattern and beat of them was unfamiliar to him. This was fascinating! He was at least conversant with how all the known languages sounded - all save Elvish - and this sounded neither Tristainian, Gallian, Albionese, Germani, Otmani, Iberian, Romanian nor any of the dialects and variants he had encountered. Perhaps she was from even further afield!
She couldn't be warm, dressed in just a thin gown in the chill, rainy spring air. Carefully, he removed his outer cloak, making sure not to make any sudden movements. "It's all right," he said, gently, as if he would to a shy horse, holding the garment out in one hand. "Class, please, be quiet!" he added over his shoulder. "This will keep the rain away from you. Rain bad, yes?"
He looked down again at Louise. She was not having a nosebleed, which indicated that this was a mild one. He knew some of her classmates made jokes about her illness and about her unseen-in-public older sister, jokes about bad blood and inbreeding in the family, but he happened to know that this was not from her father's side. He should probably call the school nurse out, though, he decided - for one, the little girl was bleeding too from where she had torn away the strange things attached to her head - and gripping his staff, he muttered the short magic which would send a flame bird - he shaped his like sparrows - to bring the message to the healer.
The little girl's eyes went even wider, and she shrieked, pointing her finger at the little bolt of fire which shot out of the staff to fly back towards the castle.
"No, no, it's all right!" he hastily explained. Founder, what if she thought he had been threatening her? It was fire, after all. Perhaps her people did not do that, or perhaps she was simply too young to understand. Moving forwards, he draped the cloak over her, and reached down to take the little girl's hand and
heavy fireproof leathers and tinted glass goggles, breath rasps under the hood.
him and his men are stalking monsters, killers, freaks, like faceless scarecrows
the hood doesn't stop the smell.
you killed them.
you killed them all.
fire.
fire everywhere. the village burned and the scent of roasting meat filled his nostrils.
pork.
how?
why did you find it easy?
flesh blackened in the heat, charring.
so many times.
each time the screaming got louder, then went quiet.
no!
get away!
don't burn me!
sobbing.
cooking meat.
heat tight against his skin, the skin drawn over his flesh as his sweat evaporated.
i'll be good.
don't do that to me too!
please! please!
sweating, shaking, skin flushed red and blood trickling in a crimson drizzle from his nostrils, Professor Colbert wrenched away. Unseen in the rain, tears ran from his eyes, blending seamlessly into the downpour. The little girl shrieked, shaking like a leaf as she madly tried to escape from his presence. Her white gown rode up as she scrambled in the mud shrugging off his cloak, streaking her with green and brown.
"Professor," asked one of the children, advancing on the little girl, "let me. I have younger..."
"No!" he yelled, voice crow-harsh. "No! No," he repeated, growing softer. "You... you'll scare her. Don't try to tou... to grab her. Just..." he paused for breath. "Leave her be."
Straightening his staff, he muttered the 'Detect Magic' cantrip, pointing it at the girl who was curled up rocking backwards and forwards by a tree away the half-circle of mages, away from the fainted form of Louise. What had just happened had been... he had no words. The girl. She was magical, certainly, which meant... he looked up at the sky. A vampire? Possible, given it was certainly overcast enough, and she looked pale. But the response of fear, the terror at... at what she had felt in him - yes, he knew in his heart that it had been that - a bloodsucking monster would not have responded like that, surely? Which suggested she was probably a mage, possibly from some foreign country from her strange tongue - which would imply that she also knew strange magics. Even an elf... he had not see her ears under that long, straggly hair.
He licked his lips and tasted copper, leaning heavily on his staff. Whatever was the case, this was a problem. Perhaps the nurse would do better at persuading her to trust her. Either way, he was certainly not going to touch her again.