Chapter 20

 

Rhys flew through the Immaterium, holding the spirit of Ansharedan the Nightbringer in front of him.

You know this is a one way trip, don’t you? Ansharedan whispered to him. I may just be an incorporeal spirit, but you have come through bodily.

I don’t care. I had to make sure you left.

You can let me go now if you like. You’ve done what you set out to do. You drove me from my body.

No, this is not your realm. I will escort you right through the gates of Hell itself and place you in your father’s arms if I have to. Just to make sure that you get home safely.

Ansharedan laughed inside his mind, but it sounded forced.

You could destroy me. Did you think of that? I put so much of myself in this soul form that back in the Pit, my comatose body would die. You could set me free.

No. I’m not a killer. You know that. And besides, this isn’t how it ends.

You don’t believe in destiny.

It doesn’t matter what I believe in. You’re going home and that’s that.

Rhys didn’t need to see paths to travel through the Immaterium. His unique ability to pass through alternate dimensions enabled him to fly right up to where Vladrakov and his demon minions were camped within a matter of minutes. He lifted a hand, concentrated and unzipped a small tear in the Wall of Fire directly in front of him. Immediately the dark gravity of the Pit of Dark Flame started pulling him and Ansharedan towards it.

Rhys considered carrying Ansharedan through himself. Perhaps, if he ventured into the mouth of Hell itself, he would get to see Matina again. No. the idea was sheer lunacy. He released his hold on the Nightbringer. Ansharedan tried to grab him, struggled to stay, but his ethereal fingers passed right through him. Rhys had been holding him not with his hands, but with his mind.

Ansharedan vanished back into the Pit of Dark Flame with a howl of despair.

Rhys grabbed the sides of the hole and pulled it closed. Then he floated down to the melee of demons assembled below. The giant toad Vladrakov glared down at him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he snarled.

“Just returning something that didn’t belong here. No need to get your tentacles in a tangle.” He turned to walk away, and then something occurred to him. “Your palace is coming along nicely. You should thank Professor Abbacus when he brings it. It’s pretty impressive.”

“Excellent!” the Demon Lord beamed a truly horrific smile of far too many pointy fangs and clapped his froglike hands.

Rhys grimaced and headed off to a safe distance. He lifted his hands to reopen the portal back to the Nocturnal Academy. He tried his hardest to focus on the school, making sure he had a clear picture in his mind so there would be no mistakes. But a different image still appeared on the other side of the membrane.

Time to go home, my son, a deep, resonant voice whispered inside his mind.

It looked like Ansharedan was right. This really was a one-way trip.

He sighed in resignation. “Alright.” He stepped through the portal.

Thank you, the deep voice told him.

On the other side of the hole Rhys paused and blinked. Suddenly he felt a little fuzzy and disorientated, as though he couldn’t remember what he’d been doing. The portal vanished behind him. Then it all came rushing back. He recalled going out for a walk to clear his head and eating a decent meal for once. “Well, if that’s lunch I’ve had it,” he said, feeling better than he had for a long time. “Time to get back to work.”

But then he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. “What? More grey hairs?” He paused to check the new streaks at his temples. “They weren’t there yesterday!”

 

Professor Longenfang carried the limp, bloody form of Marcel Sauvage up to the infirmary, which at this time of morning was still quiet and deserted. But his arrival activated a silent alarm, which soon had Matron Stein up out of bed in a fluffy pink dressing-gown. She appeared, hastily tying a cord around her ample waist, as Longenfang was stretching Marcel out on a bed. The worst of the werelion’s wounds had healed, but he still looked terrible, his clothes shredded and covered in blood.

“Oh dear, what’s happened?” asked Matron as she bustled to Sauvage’s side.

“There was a fight down at the Oval Jungle,” Longenfang explained. “Ansharedan, the son of Necronis, took over Marcel and attacked Rhys. He would have succeeded in killing him had I not jumped on him and given Rhys the chance to banish him from his mind.”

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Matron Stein. “I’d better call Madam Nocturna right away!”

“Yes, she’ll want to examine Sauvage – make sure there aren’t any more Necronitic influences lingering in there.”

Matron made the call, and then turned back to Longenfang. “And Rhys? What happened to him?”

Longenfang gulped. “He … he went see-through and pushed the spirit of Ansharedan through some sort of a portal. I could see only grey through it, so I assume it was to the Immaterium.”

Just then Madam Nocturna appeared, dressed in a silky red dressing gown. Professor Abbacus came racing up behind her.

“What’s going on here?” Abbacus demanded.

Professor Longenfang explained what he had witnessed.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Madam Nocturna. She immediately hurried to Sauvage’s side to check his mind. Professor Abbacus swore.

“Damn sneaky Necronites! Always have some nasty trick up their sleeves or another! And Mr Kelly? Where is he?”

Longenfang described the portal he had seen Rhys push Ansharedan through. “That’s the last I saw of him.”

Abbacus swore again and turned away. “In that case I suggest we call Marco and Father Lost to check Sauvage as well.”

“Yes, of course,” said Madam Nocturna.

“I’d better get back to work. Call me if any more poop decides to hit the fan.” Professor Abbacus spun in a swirl of his coat and charged off.

“Wait, Icarus! I want to talk to you!” Longenfang called as he hurried after Abbacus.

“I’m really busy,” growled Abbacus without turning around. “I’m still working on Vladrakov’s castle.”

“My request won’t take long, I promise.”

Professor Abbacus stopped and turned to face Longenfang in the main hallway. “Oh alright. You have my ear for a few minutes. What?”

Professor Longenfang pointed at the security door. “Not here, Icarus. Down in your office.”

“Alright.” Abbacus headed for the door and it slid open.

In his laboratory, Professor Abbacus slammed the door and turned to face Professor Longenfang. He sniffed disdainfully. “You stink.”

“I know. I had about five bottles of whiskey. But after some exercise and that fight with Sauvage I’m perfectly sober. And I’ve started thinking.”

“Oh here we go!”

“Don’t be so sarcastic, Icarus. I’ve figured out a way to get Vulpina back.”

Abbacus folded his arms and leant against his computer desk. “You’ve found a cleric powerful enough to resurrect the dead?”

Longenfang rolled his eyes at Abbacus. “No. I want to go where she still lives.”

“You … you want to travel back in time?”

“No, I want to go to the Magick Earth. Vulpina might be dead here, but on that other Earth, her counterpart is still alive.”

Abbacus could only stare. “Obviously all those bottles of whiskey completely dissolved what was left of your brain, Albrecht,” he said eventually. “I mightn’t have been here when that woman and her cohorts invaded the Nocturnal Academy, but I read the full report! She was an evil, scheming, manipulative witch who nearly ruined several relationships and helped to kidnap Milly! She was also a follower of that Mad God of Mirrors - absolutely nothing like our Vulpina!”

Longenfang clasped his hands together. “She is Vulpina’s counterpart, Icarus. She contains the exact-same genetic makeup. The woman I love is inside her somewhere, and I intend to find her.”

Abbacus stared again. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m deadly serious,” Longenfang growled, looking a little bigger and hairier as his anger rose. Then he reined it in.

“She’s also an item with the Magick Earth’s Toby.”

“A boy. I’m sure that won’t last.”

“So let me get this straight … you want me to send you to the Magick Earth – a one-way trip – so you can find the alternate version of Vulpina Vixen and convince her to fall madly in love with you?”

“Basically.”

“But that’s insane!”

“And you’ve never done anything insane?” Longenfang insisted.

Abbacus lifted a finger, about to unleash a whole stream of retorts when he remembered that he’d had his bags packed to follow Rhys Kelly back to Eridon. A journey that probably wouldn’t be happening now.

“Icarus,” Longenfang stepped forward, taking Abbacus by his human arm, “if we were ever friends, you’d do this for me.”

Abbacus yanked his arm free and glared up at him. “Don’t throw that back in my face.”

“I really was your friend. I still am, you know.”

“No you weren’t. I can’t believe how many secrets you managed to weasel out of me before I discovered you were reporting everything I told you back to Madam Nocturna.” He turned away.

Longenfang sighed heavily. “Icarus, please let that go. It was such a long time ago. So much has happened since then. We’re all friends here now. And besides, everyone knows your secrets now.”

Abbacus sighed again. That much was true.

Longenfang spread his hands. “No-one cares that you’re an undead necromancer! No-one cares about your habit of building extremely powerful and dangerous Magick artefacts – unless you start using them to try and take over the Earth, of course. No-one cares that you used to run a flying circus with an alien Necronite. And no-one cares that you used to be in love with both-”

Professor Abbacus flicked up a hand. “Enough. I’ll send you through if you just stop talking.”

Longenfang grinned, looking hopeful. “Thank you!”

“I’ll set up the Mirror of Albiroth for you. I just ask one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Go and take a blasted shower.”

 

The End

 

A very, very special thanks to Max Kenny!

 

Now, if you haven’t done so already, read Nocturnal University 2 – Course of Destruction – it explains why the Nocturnal University appeared when it did, and the adventure Malcolm, Kim, Dr Ashe and Dr Primus had with the Lonely House.

 

Coming soon! Nocturnal Academy 14 – Infinite Times