Chapter Six: Illusions

The first order of business once released from the infirmary was to check out the courtyard. It was out of his way but he had to check it out. He stopped at the entrance; the entire area was roped off and the circle he drew last night was still there. The whispers in his ears had been growing the closer he came to the courtyard and now they were clear enough to distinguish words, though the language was foreign to him. He ignored the voices and focused on the area outside the circle. Long, narrow marks were gouged into the marble floor… almost like claw marks.

"I don't hear anything," he stated loudly, turning his back on the sight and walking away. He couldn't ignore what he had seen, and knew his failed attempt at calling forth a demon was the cause. For now he had to push that out of his mind and focused on his schoolwork. He did not, however, make a detour to visit the Necromantic Theory class.

The day wore on slowly. He gained his strength back a little at a time but he still seemed to look unwell, because all of his teachers asked if he was feeling all right. The demonic voices persisted in whispering to him however hard he tried silencing them with study. He had no doubt that these voices came from his failed gate; most likely they were trapped between worlds and were calling him to fix the problem. The voices made it difficult for him to take notes, overriding his teacher's words so everything was scrambled.

He felt relieved when the lunch break arrived, if only to drown the demon voices out with human voices. He sat alone this time and poked his food listlessly. As if all the other distressing events of the day weren't enough, his magical powers were also suffering. The demon summoning had drained him much more than he thought. He would have to double his study efforts to gain more power.

"Hey there, bookworm," Mystina greeted him, choosing a seat across the table. "Goodness, you look awful! I heard you were in the infirmary but I didn't think it was anything serious!"

"Mystina, if you sat here to tell me how awful I look, please spare me," Lezard said dully. "All of my teachers have told me as much and I'm getting tired of hearing it." He gave another listless poke to his meal but didn't eat any of it. His friend watched him thoughtfully for a moment before reaching over and touching his forehead.

"You feel like a block of ice!" she cried. "Lezard, honestly! If you're sick you should be in bed! Don't waste an illness by going to class!"

"I'm not sick," he snapped, batting her hand away impatiently. "I had a long night, that's all. If you would all just leave me alone I would be fine!" He spoke this last part a bit loudly but the demons either didn't understand or didn't care. He sighed, rubbing his temple wearily and rising to his feet. "I'm going to the library."

"Lezard!" Mystina tried calling after him but he was already gone. She snorted and tossed her hair. "Didn't even eat his lunch. That little bookworm is going to kill himself one of these days."

Lezard spent the rest of his lunch break in the library figuring out what had gone wrong last night. He did all of the appropriate steps and yet somehow he failed. He refused to admit that he was too young to master such spells. Even achieving a failed summoning had to be better than anything his fellow classmates could do. He would simply continue working until he mastered it.

Aside from the continual whispers in his ears, the day turned out like any other. He gained enough strength to call his familiar back to him but still felt he needed more recovery before attempting the summoning again. For once in his academic career he made little progress in his assignments and personal projects. The demons were not leaving him alone and now that it was drawing closer to evening, they were becoming more insistent. He fell into bed hoping tomorrow would be better.

The morning arrived, and he climbed out of bed only to see writing on the wall over his headboard. It was his writing but it was unlike the usual precise scrawl; instead it looked like a different language though he still knew what it meant. "Blood sacrifice to appease the angered demons" one section read, and the rest looked like calculations. Lezard hurried to wash the writing off before his roommate saw.

"You will not frighten me away, demons," he muttered. "I will conquer this and every other spell. In fact, my chief study from now on shall be the art of necromancy."

------

With the use of rabbit's blood, Lezard was able to close the gate and avoid retribution from the trapped demons. It drained most of his strength to perform the magic but he was not discouraged. However small, it was at least a step in the right direction. He set about learning difficult magic spells outside of necromancy while also managing to finish every school assignment. The calculations he wrote on the wall helped in mastering the more difficult spells.

He visited the infirmary twice more attempting to open the gate. He had the foresight to call of his familiar before focusing his magical energy into the circle and yet still expelled too much energy on his second attempt. Much more study brought him back for a third attempt. This time he actually witnessed a demon clawing its way out of the gate as it began to open. The clawed hand groped forward and grabbed Lezard's leg. In the moment of panic Lezard accidentally closed the gate again and sustained a serious injury for it.

While all of this was going on he attended his usual classes and returned to Necromantic Theory. He still endured worried comments from his teachers that he looked tired all the time, and his roommate grew increasingly cautious as he noticed Lezard talking to himself. As for Mystina, she saw Lezard as being more distracted than usual and his eating habits had changed. Before he was a very picky eater but now it seemed he barely noticed what he put in his mouth.

"Lezard, would you be a dear and share your notes on the elves?" Mystina requested during one evening meal. "I know you've been studying it in class recently." Lezard slid the corresponding notebook over without a word and returned to his food. He was roused by a cry of dismay from his friend. "What on earth is all of this? Is this some kind of joke? These look like chicken scratches!!"

"Let me see." Lezard took his notes back, glancing over them thoughtfully. He understood what was written perfectly, though in truth the writing looked like some unknown language. "I apologize, Mystina," he said with a shrug. "You shall have to get your information some other way."

"What's with you lately?" his friend demanded. "Ever since that day you were in the infirmary you've been acting different, and now your handwriting is suffering! What are you up to, bookworm?" He sighed heavily and decided to be honest with his friend.

"I am studying necromancy." She gave a gasp of shock but he talked over it. "I have been doing so for several weeks now along with my normal studies. I have so far attempted to summon a demon three times, and would have been successful the last time if not for an unforeseen accident. I trust you will tell no one about this."

"Of course not," she assured him, "but why didn't you tell me sooner? I could've helped you!"

"No!" he snapped, anger suddenly sparking in his features. "I must do this alone! I will not allow even you to get in my way!" The anger passed and he rubbed his aching head. "What I mean to say is that you shouldn't get involved in this. In fact, I must implore you not to dabble in necromancy. Please trust me when I say it is a dangerous art."

Mystina had nothing to say. Lezard's anger had frightened her slightly and she couldn't help but wonder what else he was hiding from her. She sighed and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I won't if it bothers you that much, but Lezard… I hope you know what you're doing." He gave her a bland smile for assurance and the two friends ate their meal in uneasy silence.

Lezard momentarily forgot why it was important to speak with the demon once it was summoned and focused wholly on the summoning itself. He read every book he could find on the subject, and spent all of his free evening hours to figuring out what had gone wrong the previous three times. The notes he wrote unconsciously on the wall turned out most helpful in his quest, though the writing only appeared when the gate was left partially open.

It was drawing much too close to Winternights to attempt another summoning. The spirit world would be at its strongest and he wouldn't be able to control the creature once it passed through the gate. He delved deeper into the study of it so that when Winternights was over, he would at last have success. One last time he went to the courtyard to purposefully do an incomplete summoning so the demonic voices would guide him. They were helping him so much already; he was eager to see how much more helpful they became once he faced them.

It became an obsession of his to master this art, and all other things were pushed aside.