Story #225 - Tony W

Tony W

“The storm,” Professor Albrecht said, snapping his fingers and calling up a small, swirling tornado on his desk. “The flame,” he went on, banishing the swirling winds and lighting each of the tips of his fingers with fire, “the earth – Mr. Wessler!”

Tony Wessler's head came up from his chest, where he'd nearly been able to drift off while old Albrecht was droning on. Why couldn't the old man just leave him alone?

“Yes, Prof?” Tony said with as little interest as he could manage. Being fifteen, that interest was beyond minimal – most days, Tony approached a comatose state.

“Prof?” Albrecht's voice rose sharply. Everyone in the Academy knew that calling any of the instructors anything but “professor so-and-so” was a recipe for disaster, and Albrecht especially. The man had a chip on his shoulder a mile wide, and many suspected it was because he never got the chance to use his considerable talents in the field, but was instead stuck in a classroom, teaching lumps like Tony.

The class-bell rang before Albrecht could get out another word, but he motioned to Tony to approach his desk.

“After school, Wessler. Here. As soon as the bell rings.” Albrecht's eyebrows were drawn together, and his face was set in a scowl. Tony had never cared for the old man, a feeling he was sure the professor returned. He wished the man would just leave him alone - the school year was almost over.

Tony slogged through the rest of his classes, and considered ignoring Albrecht's request when the final bell of the day came. With less than a month to go in the current school year, Tony knew his marks were high enough to push him into a new bracket and away from fools like Albrecht. Even disobeying the balding man's order wouldn't be enough to keep him back a year, and most of the other professors in the Academy were just as eager to see him go. It wasn't that he didn't like the Arcane, or the Arts, but that tiny tornadoes and guttering bits of fire weren't worth a damn, as far as he was concerned. When he was ten, he'd summoned up a hurricane that had nearly destroyed his parent's farm and three others, and once he had a better grip on what he was doing, he was able to snuff out a fire that had threatened his home town. A few minor accolades followed, but once the Academy got word of what he'd done, he was bundled up and shipped off on a full scholarship. Excitement had flared until he realized he was going to be spending six years doing almost nothing while doddering old fussy-pants told him he had to be “safe”, told him he had to be “careful”.

Tony hated safe; he loathed careful.

Albrecht saw him in the hallway before he had a chance to make good on his escape, and hauled him into the classroom by one arm. Sitting him down in front of the massive oak desk that served as a shield from fiery spitballs and other forms of student abuse, the Professor stared hard at Tony for several minutes, not speaking a word.

“What?” Tony asked finally, slumping in his seat and letting his jaw hang open. Some days, it was almost too much effort to even get out of bed. His parents told him it was just a part of growing up, but he was fairly certain he was going to feel like crap for the rest of his life.

Albrecht bristled for a moment, then let his shoulders sag and began to laugh.

“You have no idea, do you, Wessler? No idea what the world out there is really like.”

Tony sat up straighter in his chair. He had lots of ideas. He knew what was going on outside the walls of the Academy better than most of the trumped-up fools that worked behind closed doors.. Snapping his fingers, he created a ball of hovering flame in his right hand. It was far above the level he was supposed to be casting at, but he was tired of always pretending to be less than he was. He could feel a drain on his “mana reserves”, as the Profs liked to call them, which was really just code for how determined you were to make something work.

Albrecht smiled at him – a strange smile, one that had none of the doddering professor in it.

“What a cheery fire, Mr. Wessler, but you know our policy about unapproved use.” The Professor stretched his arms out lazily, cracking his knuckles, then stared hard at Tony. “We wouldn't want that fire getting away from you and causing any damage – let me help you put it out.”

There was no warning, but suddenly a powerful gust of wind slammed into Tony, snuffing out his flame and sending him flying across the room and pinning him against the back chalkboard. Albrecht smiled at him for a moment, and then opened a book on his desk, unconcerned that Tony hung six feet off of the ground.

“Help!” Tony demanded. “Get me down from here!”

“That hardly sounds convincing, Mr. Wessler, or polite,” Albrecht did not look up, “try again.”

“Please,” Tony said from between clenched teeth, “let me down.”

“Of course!” Albrecht said brightly, and Tony felt the localized wind holding him lessen and then stop. The floor came up before he was ready, and he hit the tiles with a crash.

“What the hell, Prof?” He came to his feet, eyes angry and hands out in front of him.

Albrecht was already standing, a sheath of fire covering his body and two earth-spirits at his side. “It's 'Agent', actually, Mr. Wessler, and I've seen enough from you to know where your future will lie. I've applied to the Academy and been granted permission to remove you after the semester is over. You're the Ministry's problem now, and we're going to make damn sure you don't waste what you've been given.”

“But -” Tony started, eyes wide. He'd never wanted to be an Agent.

“It's us or arcane castration. Pick, Wessler.”

“Uh,” he hesitated for a moment, “you, I guess.”

“Excellent!” Albrecht said brightly. “Speak of this to no one.”

Tony stood for a moment, unsure of what to do.

“Now,” Albrecht pointed to the door, “get out.”

Tony bolted.

- D