Horns

A firm knocking comes from the front door. Catalina practically leaps down the stairs to answer it. It’s Angus.

“I came as soon as I could." Angus breathes heavily.

“Did you find us a place to stay in the capital?”

“Hold on, dear.” Angus holds out her hand. Catalina stops abruptly at the bottom of the stairs.

“My maids informed me… you had a meeting with the King?”

Catalina nods.

“Did you happen to meet the queen?”

“No. Why?”

“Never mind that. Here.” Angus hands Catalina a key. “The key to my cottage near the capital. You said this was urgent, so I’ve prepared a carriage and horses for you already.”

He gestures down the yard, where one of his purple and gold-trimmed carriages waits. Cinder sits at the front, reins in hand.

***

“Do you need something?” Osric asks, scooting his chair away from her.

The blonde-haired girl stares at him through her sunglasses.

“Does the name Veronica Estania mean anything to you? Maybe she called herself Lady Veronica?” 

“Why would you ask?” Osric stares at her, wide-eyed.

“I’m sure you’re aware, but there’s a revolution happening in Aurelith.” Her head pans down, sunglasses sliding down her nose.

“Yes, I am,” Osric replies. “Are you perhaps one of those refugees?”

“Technically, yes, but… never mind.”

“But what—”

“I happen to know Miss Estania personally.” She interrupts. “One day she came to me, saying she needed to start a revolution. Claiming that someone calling himself a sage told her to… Was that you?” She pushes her glasses back into position.

“If that was me, would that be a problem?” Osric asks hesitantly.

“Hmm. Not… yet. But it does make me wonder — are you planning for something big?” She leans in.

She opens her mouth to speak again, but the professor abruptly interrupts.

“If you excuse me, class, I’ll be right back.” He speedwalks out of the classroom.

Osric and the girl look at each other, confused.

“Is he supposed to leave during class?” Osric asks.

The girl shakes her head.

“I want you to understand what’s—”

Boom!

A deafening rumble shakes the entire classroom, cutting her off. Students gasp and scream.

The girl with sunglasses bolts, sprinting down the steps to the front door.

“What’s going on?” Osric mutters, watching as other students follow her lead, panicked.

Boom!

Another violent rumble shakes the ground.

Osric moves with the crowd, pushing past panicked students. He makes it out the door and into the hallway. Suddenly, they all stop.

A row of armored soldiers, marching toward them. Shoulder to shoulder in dark silver armor, they block the entire hallway. Each soldier carries a long spear, and holes at the tops of their helmets reveal goat-like horns — some pointed, some curling.

Goat horns… Are these demons? Osric thinks, heart racing.

One soldier steps forward, pointing directly at Osric and shouting something unintelligible to the row behind him, in a guttural, harsh language.

They keep marching.

Are they after me? Osric realizes.

“Everyone run! They’re after me!” he shouts, extending his hand to the crowd.

Startled murmurs erupt, followed by shrill screams. The students turn and sprint in the opposite direction.

Osric leaps backward. The soldiers keep advancing. He begins chanting:

“Drown thy enemies, Aqua Pila!”

A giant ball of water forms in his palm and shoots toward the first soldier, just as the spear tip strikes it.

A crashing wave fills the hallway, washing the soldiers backward. The water sloshes briefly before dissipating into mana. The soldiers rise to their feet, unscathed.

Osric bites his lip. Damn! If I’d used fire, I might have taken some of them down — but I didn’t want to burn down the school.

He raises his palm again. A small orb of water appears.

“Drown thy enemies, Aqua Pila!”

The orb vanishes into mana.

"What gives?" Osric mutters, staring at his hand.

“Drown thy enemies, Aqua—”

Again, the water disappears. Why isn’t my spell working?

A guttural screech halts the soldiers. A black-robed figure steps out from behind the line. Osric notices immediately that the figure is also a demon — two points at the top of his hood.

The figure holds an old book, a magic circle intricately detailed upon the page.

“D—drown—thy…” Osric stammers, legs shaking, arm trembling. Come on! Not now! Stop fumbling your words like you're doing a school presentation.

“Drown thy enemies, aq—”

A small orb forms at his palm once more. The magic circle on the page erupts in a blinding white glow, and the water orb vanishes.

No, no, no. Nobody told me there were silence skills! Osric thinks, panic rising.

He grabs a pouch of coins from his belt and tosses it in the air. Coins scatter over the soldiers. As they look up, Osric dashes to a giant window, shattering it, and tumbles onto the grass. Shards cut his arms, but he staggers to his feet and keeps running.